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Tallara fastened the straps on her gauntlet. The Maw's equipment surprised her with how functional it was, but she had to fit it over another layer of armor hidden underneath. All in all, it felt more unwieldy than she was used to. She found herself a little jealous of Sable -- pretending to be a Final Dawn operative had meant little change in uniform for him.
At least she didn't need to hide all her weapons. The Alliance's attack meant she could hold out her blaster and vibrosword openly. The Maw wouldn't question her, and so far from the front lines, she wasn't at risk of friendly fire.
They'd been let into the spire not far from the Sith citadel where high-value prisoners were being held, but the second layer of defense stood down the hall they were walking down. A pair of guards -- Bloodsworn, if she had to guess -- flanked the door into the cell block. She signalled silently to Sable to follow her lead. Moving at a brisk pace, she approached the guards.
"Oi. Why are you here?" The one on the left took a step forward, sizing up their new arrivals.
"I'd rather be fighting right now," she snapped, feigning frustration. "But those... you know- the Final Dawn want to clear out the cell block. I'm bringing this one in, he's going to clear out all the prisoners. The high-value ones, anyways. Orders straight from Ren to allow it."
"...ain't Ren fighting?"
"Well, yeah. I got told by someone else, but Ren told him. I mean- he's powerful. He can give orders and fight at the same time."
"Huh. Yeah."
"And who're you? Never seen a Final Dawn goon in armor like that." The guard on the right stepped forward to touch Sable.
Sion Lorray , Thank you for sending this message through.
Do you have a transport of your own in the case of evacuation? If not, share your location immediately and the fleet will coordinate. None of that ‘Won’t leave you’ chit if worse comes to worse. You get on a ship and get out.
It was keyed to the tune he assigned for his m- Master.
A quick scan brought a smile to his lips as Sion feverishly worked to get attuned to the reactor. He wasn't an engineer. Didn't know feth from cog when it comes to these things. But Sion could explore the fault lines in the machinery. It was still operating on emergency mode, which told him that it was somehow necessary for the protocol sound.
Maybe... maybe if he interrupted it? A restart of the station could potentially reverse the program.
As Sion worked, he tapped the comm and linked it back to Osarla's relay.
Master Ridor, I ordered your men to take the wounded I encountered and evacuate. We are located two clicks north from that evac zone, your Sergeant will have the concrete coordinates. Don't... don't worry about me. We will do what we can to slow down whatever the Maw has done.
The Alliance will be able to complete their mission, I have to guarantee it. If I can't make it back to you... thank you for adop- thank you for taking me under your wing. I don't know what I would have done without you.
No sooner had he smashed the first Chakram that he was confronted by the second, and was forced to deflect.
But the Chakram was only partially deflected, glancing off one emitter and shutting off the blade on one end slicing into his shoulder...just as the short statured Sith (Say that three times fast!) came in fast with strikes for his legs.
Only a last second teleport, which heavily taxed him, prevented a limb from being severed. But he was at the absolute limits of his endurance.
The first rule was survival, not Victory.
Nathan saw her grow weakened by the presence of the Light washing over the planet. Nathan didn't join in it. The first reason was because he was much too injured to properly focus and he would likely kill himself from the stress on his mind and body. The second being even if he hadn't been so injured, there was a void in him emotionally. A numbness to taking strength in others, or finding connection. Nathan was not awed by the power of the Light as he began watching other Sith scream. Some even caught fire due to how polluted their bodies were by The Dark Side. There was little room left in his heart for awe or wonderment, or even inspiration in anything.
It all blurred together for him, this day or the last, or the one that followed it.
It was just one big long, massive running battle with Sith Lords needing to get cut as far as he was concerned. They'd be all doing this again in two to three years anyway.
Nathan was as close to being without fear as an organic could possibly get. But it also left him unable to feel anything resembling hope at all in a perverse counterbalance. He would have been no good to the Wall of Light.
He didn't even really feel them all joined in the Force to strike down the Sith as he teleported an armed, thrown grenade from someone else to the space between him and Quintessa
, diving back as it exploded, bringing down the ceiling between them. A friendly GA soldier found him and injected a Hyper Battle Stimulant into him to keep him up and fighting, even though he was bleeding. He struggled back up, watching as more Sith began to catch fire and flay about, screaming...
ATTENTION ALL GALACTIC ALLIANCE PERSONNEL. . ."This is Sion - - Graveyard - - May The Force be with you all." The General listened to the Jedi Padawan's words scarcely, supposedly the Maw installed a self-destruction mechanism in the Planet as a fail safe for the potential situation in which the Brotherhood is pushed back to their throneworld.
"Men of the frontlines, heed the Jedi's words, destruction is inevitable. The Chaotic alliance of autocrats are being crushed one by one; do not falter in this moment, keep pushing, secure the shipyards, secure the district and dispatch the rest of the remnant forces. As for those who I don't address, fall back to your transports for evacuations" He said sending a broadcast out to forces under his command, addressing the primary attack force & reinforcement groups who were beginning to evacuate. The General was given advice to retreat from the world though he knew it'd be too chaotic, his staging point was too far from his main-forces, the only way off this world for those on the frontlines was forward.
"You hear the Major-General, Officers' of Alpha Group, secure the area." The Colonel said addressing his Officers from the inside of urban-infrastructure, the Officers nodding before running out of the room back to the frontline. Alpha Brigade had lost over 785 Units during their first waves of offense leaving them some over 3,000 and 200 from the original 4K. Miniature versions of Shock & A w e warfare was put on display by Alpha Brigade with the de-centralized attack halting before reconfiguration back into a centralized arc of aim, the Heavy-Weapon Platoons & Fire-Support Teams of their various companies acting as a bulwark of a 1st line as they pushed forward from behind enemy lines to slam the local mawites units in their rear whilst the Light-Infantry Groups continued their seemingly endless waves of attrition to wear the enemy down.
Whilst Alpha-Group served as a secondary nuisance, 'Zulu' & 'Tango' brigade in their primary-attack started to lose morale unlike A-Group at abnormal rates, about 800 Units killed during the first couple of waves & high-command still continued to send them out in human-wave style warfare with the goal of wear and tear instead of a decisive strike. The Command of the duo even went as far as to discontinue the moving-barrage artillery tactic has the artillery groups and alike were put in the rear, they were fighting a brutal battle and the Commanding Officers were worried about 'Logistical-Cost-to-Manufacturing' Fees. "Men of ZA-Group. You are, uh, doing great. Your sacrifices will not fall on idle ears. Continue to the frontlines, fight, fight! Fight for the Glory of the Alliance!" A officer said addressing wounded units & units who were about to be sent out to the frontlines, his words being dull in short of his assumed enthusiasm; nobody paid attention, crying, artillery shells, dethatched limbs, it engulfed the depth of the attack-force. Unlike the Jedi-Generals who valued their men's lives, the Alliance Officer who was bred for Doctrinal Warfare saw these causalities as simply 'normal'.
In summarization, the forces under Blavier's Command were doing their job; they were finishing off the remaining defensive units of the Forbidden-District though they were suffering losses beyond nightmarish. The Shipyards would fall under GA hands soon enough and this wasn't even accounting General Osarla Ridor
& the 222nd Corps alongside other forces who were swooping in to deal the final blow. As for casualties, horrid though less then the first group of waves, so many mothers, wives, husbands, children, would be told one close to them was lost in the fight. The Irregular division would squeeze any mawites caught in its trap to death, so brutal yet efficient..
As Final Dawn Forces on the surface began to retreat within the Shipyards for their evacuation, they soon found themselves under heavy assault from GADF Forces that began to close in on their forces from all sides. With Alliance Close-Air Support swooping in to support their ground forces against the Final Dawn's own Gunships and GADF Units moving forth to encircle Final Dawn Forces it was clear that they sought to take the now empty shipyards with the intent of demolishing it once and for all. However despite their Human-Wave Assaults, the combined firepower of the Gunships and the ISVs were enough to hold off the countless waves of Alliance Soldiers as they fell in droves in an almost desperate attempt to overrun the Final Dawn
Back onboard the bridge Final Dawn Flagship, Marlon Sularen took note of the sudden GADF Offensive on the surface half-surprised at the speed in which Alliance Forces were advancing although he was giving up ground to begin with. "Interesting. It would seem that they are using Mawite-style Human Wave Tactics. In an attempt to overrun us." Rackham noted. "Quite unorthodox for them" he added. "Unorthodox indeed" Sularen responded. "But just like their earlier attack against my flagship, it will be paid with the blood of hundreds if not thousands of their own. In the end they will lose more then we will, especially considering how we already emptied the shipyards. All they will find is an empty husk that we have already cleared hours ago." Sularen proclaimed. "It's quite hilarious actually if you think about it. Telling familly members that their loved ones died to seize control of a useless asset" Sularen added while chuckling a bit.
Before the galaxy used to mock the Maw about their constant suicide tactics always seeking to draw as much blood as possible regardless of the cost, and yet here was the Galactic Alliance, the Maw's greatest foe using those same tactics. But then again it was unsurprising considering the Alliance's hypocrisy. Returning his focus on the battle within the Shipyards, the High Regent proceeded to issue new orders. "Anyways, Have the remaining Gunships form a double layered perimeter around our remaining forces, the exterior layer consisting of our close-air support gunships and the interior one consisting of the gunships assigned to carry our remaining soldiers and vehicles out of there." Sularen ordered. "As they hold off the encroaching Alliance Forces i want half of our entire air wing to clear the skies of any enemy starfighters to ensure the safe evacuation of our forces." the High Regent added.
"The sooner we get our men out of there, the sooner we can reduce what's left of those shipyards to rubble, taking whatever remaining Alliance forces are down there with it. A perfect reminder that even in defeat, that Final Dawn will always emerge victorious." Sularen proclaimed. As soon as he gave the order, the thirty-one remaining Gunships began arranging themselves into two ring-like formations around the soldiers, the exterior ring holding off the Alliance Forces as they unleashed their heavy Anti-Personnel Weaponry upon Alliance Soldiers while the remaining Final Dawn Soldiers rushed to the gunships within the interior ring in order to quickly board them so that they could quickly get out of there. At the same time twenty-two squadrons of Final Dawn TIE Interceptors began progressively rushing out of the hangars of the Prophet as they quickly moved forth to engage both enemy starfighters in the skies and Alliance Forces on the surface to further support the evacuation, ensuring that the advance of the GADF would be further delayed as the Final Dawn completed their evacuation.
Amanda quickly disposed of the sith Lord who had showed up she let herself be linked up to the rest of the Jedi due to the meld to help power it she wanted nothing in return as she continued fighting. Swinging her lightsabers and blocking attacks at herself she continued fighting maw troops and sith on the battlefield drawing attention away from others that could be in truoble.
Malum had drawn first blood, for all that was worth, the man sported a bloody broken nose, but their distance was still rapidly closed, his blade quickly repositioned itself to block the repertoire of his double blades, taking a step back indeed, to prepare for a withdrawal.
That was until... the attack never came.
The Jedi named Jand Talo instead rushed away, a desperation in his movement that had to make Malum wonder a very intrusive, and very inappropriate thought to have at that very moment.
"Was the girlfriend comment more apt than I realised?"
Malum simply allowed the man to withdraw, though not exactly due to his desires, caught in shock as he was, he likely could have still made an attack on his now exposed back.
Well that was if two different stimuli had not struck at that very moment to stop him.
Pressing forward to chase Jand, he had to leap back just as quickly, as an explosion erupted in front of him, dust and dirt thrown in his face, as he grunted. The soldier still stood alive.
How unacceptable.
Malum might have signaled for his Guards to move into engagement with him, to seize back the lightsaber stolen from the corpse, while he himself went forward to keep his word to Talo. That he would be his executioner. If it was not for the other stimulus that was more harmful than being at risk of being blown up.
His mind certainly felt it was a similar sensation though.
His legs failed him as he fell onto the floor, his mind a searing pain as if a knife was continuing to stab into it over and over, the darkness in his fingers, in his body, in his soul, sucked away as vapours of smoke contained in a vacuum. Lightning sprayed out of him as if he was a conduit, striking up at the sky, and meeting with its brethren, punishing the clouds for some unknown ills. While flames evoked around him as if he was a candle, a campfire, A house burning down, lost forever as it desired nothing more than to destroy everything in its path.
He clutched his head, indeed, pulling on his hair for that pain distracted from the much darker pain in his mind. In his mind's eyes visions assaulted and plagued him, an inhuman world was his view, as it felt that his skull was to break and spill miasma and Greymatter across the ground. Darkness clouded his vision, fuzzied views of slime and water, of spindly legs, of growling creatures beyond mortal kin, beyond mortal comprehension. His hands gripped the cold floors, as his breathing failed him, huge, fast breaths expanding through his lungs, as he found copper on his tongue.
His nails broke as they gripped onto the floor, and though he would not know until far after the battle, Lightpoint Station had arrived and struck onto the darkened, the icy cold embrace of the ground gave some vague relief from the continued mental strains, the attacks, and stabbing sensations he felt striking at his mind over and over.
"Malum you need to fight this." The voice... his mind for a moment was given relief, normalcy, before being struck again, with visions that he could not understand, Malum saw a golden city turned to ash, saw a realm of green sickness, his eyes scrunched tight as a tick took over him, every limb losing control as the mind closed itself off, spasms, painful, unnatural took over him. Floating rocks, existing without gravity, portals towards unknown places, the miasma of sickness, of disgust, of death.
Than it all stopped.
For but a moment.
Malum gave out an unearthly shriek.
And then it was truly over.
Malum rose from the ground.
His lightsaber was raising, as his other hand found the other deep in his robes.
Another violent hiss broke the scene as his second lightsaber activated, its red plasma kissing the air with all the violence that the Sith could exude.
A dull ache was felt at the side of his head.
But Malum had taken far more than a dull ache in the past.
He found himself surrounded by the Guard, all looking at him peculiarly, around him stood the carnage of his flames and lightning, the ground was destroyed, the air warm, and the Mawite and Jedi still fighting. The soldier was still evidently in the area if the still and broken corpses of the few guards where a massive crater now stood, was any indication, the massive crater where Malum was sure the grenades had emerged from, thus where the Soldier had been.
A pity, but Malum had no desire to fight him.
Indeed, his first inclination was to withdraw.
He could not feel the Force within his fingers, within his body, he could not feel anything.
They needed to leave this planet immediately, and indeed may even have an easy time doing so, the Soldier could not stop them, and the Jedi were caught in the Mawite's web. It was not as if the Mawite was a friend either, and even if she was.
What was friendship to the mission objective?
Still.
He supposed he was here to gain Marr assets, and that lightsaber certainly counted as one, to court Marr allies, and this Mawite before him could certainly be courted further. Whatever this Jedi ability was, to remove his sensitivity to the Force, how could he know none of those before him had used it? How did he know he would not need to kill them all for it to be undone?
"Lieutenant," Malum said, his voice serious and resolute, the earlier madness having apparently withered away.
"Yes, Scion Marr." The Lieutenant spoke, in a similar voice, as his eyes continued to dart around cautiously looking for any threat, Malum would not know, but he had been taken aback by the death of his two subordinates, even more, taken aback when he had lost sight of the Soldier.
"Call for Custos and Venerandus to retreat." There was no need for them to stay here, and it would be good to rid himself of this ache in his heart, that could only be a weakness.
"But Sci-" The Lieutenant spoke up, knowing that their forces could greatly augment his own.
"Do it." Malum stated without hesitation, utterly confident of his grand design.
"It shall be done." The Lieutenant said solemnly.
"Hunt down the soldier, execute him, regain the lightsaber," Malum spoke with no emotion, the gears in his brain grinding as if to rid himself of weaknesses both external and internal, preparing for victory and defeat in equal measure, as the madness continued to soak away. Content to watch the Mawite and the Jedi kill each other, it had been that way for years after all. Both the Maw and the Alliance would fall, and make way for the Sith.
In his peripherals, he saw the Soldier come out of the darkness, which meant the Guard had as well, it was almost in slow motion as their blasters raised, and then all at once, a cacophony of lasers shot in one direction.
Malum held his lightsabers at defensive, ready to deflect any shot that made his way, as he was content to watch as the Guard did what they best, rapidly deploying out of their position to defend him, finding cover, as they fired as a wall, something insurmountable, something undefeatable.
His eyes had shined so brilliantly, dulled to something far less vibrant, far less normal.
Surea didn't move far. She brought her arm down, letting the metal of it catch the lethal edge that'd been brought up for her. It was as she assumed, as what Amani said. The Rot wasn't working on her. So many just weren't. She'd seen it firsthand, all her life, just what her Rot could do to people. What it did to herself. It cost parts. Body, soul, it consumed everything without care of who or what it touched.
Yet here she was. Immune.
It just pissed Surea off.
The mechanical wrist spun, aiming to bring her blade around to knock aside the spear, force it away as she brought her hand up. Gripped the specs of Rot that had entered around them. give them form, give them life. Then bring them down as a hail of spikes for them both.
"But your body will rot like all the others, when you perish. Not even your light can save you, Jedi."
Kahlil settled where he sat. Took in a breath himself before exhaling slowly. The pain from his wounds had faded. It wasn't gone, but here, in this chamber, with the Force all around him. All around them.
"We can feel them all from here. Everyone fighting. Our friends. Our students. Rivals, acquaintances. Even strangers. We're not alone. You're not alone. So breath, and share the burden. The Force is here, and it will always be our ally."
Where the Light of the Force rained down across Exegol's surface summoned by some of the New Jedi Order's finest Masters and practitioners, Caedyn Arenais struggled to protect himself and the Sith Warrior Xiveros standing close behind him. It would be a decision likely questioned by some of the Knight's peers and colleagues, to save the life of the Sith who in the mind of some, could be defined by the evil he had done.
In Caedyn's eyes, the decision was set in stone the moment that the warrior relinquished his weapon, in doing so opening himself up to the possibility of a better future. One not manipulated by the Brotherhood of the Maw, or the Sith Order. Xiveros had shown that he could make his own decisions, and Caedyn hoped those decisions could be put to a greater purpose. Simply put, to live a better life.
There was a fine line between being a Jedi, and playing the role of a Soldier. Caedyn believed that to respect all life as created by the living Force, one must be able to show mercy even to those who would think themselves his enemy.
The explosive wall of light rolled over them, a kinetic force reaching them first before a brilliant light blinded their eyes as Caedyn maintained the Force Barrier around the pair. He could hear the cries of others, yet saw nothing in those few precious seconds where his concentration pooled solely on their defence, to survive. After what felt longer than the mere moments it had taken to come and go, the roar and light subsided, leaving Caedyn's eyes to take time to readjust.
"You alright?" Caedyn asked the warrior, though not looking directly at Xiveros as he tried to blink back the blur from his vision. The Wall of Light had ravaged the surface, yet succeeded in eradicating the residual Darkness from their nearby vicinity whilst still spreading out across the surface to cleanse the world.
Your team, prepping for a low orbit drop onto a hostile planet. Before the hammer can stoke the flames, the tip of the spear would drive forth from the shadow to lead forth the invasion. The usual chatter of who would get dusted by colliding into some orbital debris or having their pod burn up in atmosphere, which followed with the small fit of chuckles all around before the mission brief and directives to follow. It was as if it were only just then that they were standing there, waiting for your order.
Expecting to turn and see your Dark Operators, to see your Kill Team Doomsday. You only find a pair of marines. Typical roughnecks and hull busters kitted out and ready for war. They were nothing like your team. Not even close, from the armor, the gear they carried. Even in the way they looked oddly at you. Though whether or not they noticed that pang in your gut wasn't really your concern.
Not that they could see past the crimson visor to your jaded eyes staring out, hoping that it might just be some mirage. Nor they had the time. Klaxons roared throughout the bay for combat drops to commence onto the planet's surface in short order. Don't get lost looking for some semblance of your past in the far present. Your team isn't here. They may as well never be.
All that's left is the war you've been summoned to fight in. So, as you've been trained to do in low orbit pod drops, drop feet first into hell, and thrive.
Sable, indeed, hardly had any need to change out of his armor. The general appearance of the Dark Operator was no doubt the appeal of some Death Trooper, unique enough to be of some special unit no one had ever known of and were only seen when times were desperate. The carbon black, sleek look had a level of authority and perhaps professionalism while the few red marks across his armor and the crimson visor put forth intimidation. If there was anything one needed to pass off as anyone in the Final Dawn, then DO was ahead of the game millenniums ago.
This went with the rest of his equipment. He still carried the C-14 suppressed carbine, no doubt an old weapon platform being reutilized in a special operations application. The grip of his hand cannon protruded from the thigh holster, the only thing visible of the heavy duty weapon being the singular angry skull emboldened in the hand grip. Aside from that the man as equipped for war with gear attached all over his webbing, even a bandolier of grenades and charge packs strewn across his front. The warzone of the planet made it pretty easy for the 'enforcer' of sorts to virtually slip past undetected without scrutiny.
That is until now.
When in war, fight with what you have. Not what you wanted.
The Dark Operator remembered that old proverb following Tallara's lead. She wasn't his Kill Team or a Dark Operator, but she was trustworthy. Just by operating with her the past few missions alone had done well for them to coordinate beyond verbal indicators. Especially now, when they were both deep into enemy lines that things went downhill once your disguise wore off, with blaster fire following soon after. Of which now was put into question how much longer it would last with the approach of the guards of the spire's holding cells.
There wasn't a word uttered from him in the short conversation thus far. Already when approaching and standing before the guards, Sable stood in a professional stance that exuded not only confidence, but that he knew what he was about. What they should know what he was about. A lethal killer that took no task, no matter how dull or boring as his compatriot feigned, without due diligent perfection. One that for every person he came across he had three different ways to kill them right there on the spot. Which, no doubt, wasn't part of the charade.
It was only when one of the guards reached out to point a finger into his chestplate that he restrained himself from waxing the two. What stopped the guard in his tracks was a perfectly delivered knife hand, directed towards him that it almost threatened to cut through plastoid if you let him try. So sharp that it filled one with apprehension, the same kind when you were caught doing something stupid that shouldn't have been done in the first place.
{ You're not cleared for that information. }
His voice came out in that familiar spectral-like mechanical tone, for Tallara anyway. Though he became more authoritative and in command by this point, cutting out the nonsense and getting right to the point with the two guards. If there was any time to revel in the clear image an ancient Dark Operator put forth, it was here and now. In the heart of enemy territory under the long shadow of the Maw, or in an entirely new era. Nothing seemed to shatter his determination one bit at all.
{ Our assignment is of top priority. We are to complete our tasking with no delay. Period. }
Nice and sweet. Say too much or too little and they might catch on. However by now anything could go awry, and he was fully aware.
The pair had gotten far to be where they are now. At the end of the day, it was only a matter of time whether they would make it far or break it short. And if it would be the latter, the guards would be the first ones to be broken. While still holding the rifle in his hands in the professional manner of his, Sable quickly flipped a tongue toggle in his bucket for the internal comms, speaking softly directly into Tallara's earpiece. Even if no one could hear him outside his bucket.
< < { If this goes karked, closest guard to us is all yours. I'm dusting the other. } > >
Dominik was crouched low far out into the rain, movement covered by the sound of the rain as he crept closer. Darth Malum of House Marr
was clutching his head. Seems the Lightwall Imperative was working its magic. He watched, obscured by the rain and debris in the air, as two soldiers ran up to his now abandoned cover. He stepped up next to a guard who was more to the side and back than the others and, at the time of the explosion he had rigged, grabbed the man in a chokehold as he pushed his alchemized sword through a crack in his armor. Dominik dropped him and moved on. Other soldiers were standing agape as their leader shrieked in pain, lightning and fire erupting from him. Another of their number dropped and was dragged further into the obscurement. Their armor may have had 360-degree vision, but they were still sentients that could only focus in one area at a time.
Dominik was on his way back when Malum, now identified by his Eye and the SIA database, called for a retreat. Well, maybe he didn't have to waste time keeping them busy then. The Lightwall must have scared him. He was about to slink back away and head for the padawans when Malum gave his next order.
Dammit. And the lightsaber? Was that a friend of his who launched himself at their group earlier? Either way, that was what he was after. If that was the price to get him to leave faster, that was an easy price to pay.
He stepped forward out of the darkness, ready to talk. He was opening his mouth to when every guard, using the eyes in the backs of their heads, turned and fired on him. Aggressive Negotiations, then.
There was no cover, nowhere to run and hide. But his armor would protect him. The soldiers had surrounded their master when he had fallen, and now they were fanning out and advancing on him. If they had stayed in one spot it would have been game over for him.
Apostasy
Dominik surged to the left, his Eye tracking and displaying where the blaster bolts would hit him. He couldn't get them all but his sword slashed and bobbed to deflect what it could, the others bouncing off his armor. He fired two shots of his slugthrowing sidearm at Malum, the projectiles, if he was accurate with his shots and he almost was, would go through those blades and strike him. He adjusted and readjusted his steps as the blasts pushed him, but it was only a few moments before he was on one of them.
8...
The soldier swung his rifle at Dominik, but his sword cleaved it in half in an upwards slash. His gun followed, pushing up beneath the soldier's helmet. 'CLAGCLAG' was the sound of slugs finding wet flesh.
6...
Dominik pushed the corpse to the ground, leaping over it to slash his sword at the next soldier. His gun was damaged but he backed away out of the strike, pulling out his own short blade and going for the cracks in Dominik's armor. He spun, knocking the knife away with his gun hand and putting his back to the solider, turning and thrusting the blade into the man's side and up into his lungs and organs. His armor blocked the blaster shots from his comrades. One of them moved, getting around the meatshield, but he was too close. Dominik heard him coming and put the barrel of his gun against the joints in his kneecap and pulled the trigger. A blaster bolt still dinged off his helmet, disorienting and annoying but non-fatal. The soldier screamed as his leg gave out. Dominik put the barrel under his helmet and pull the trigger again. His screams stopped.
4...
A rain of blaster fire erupted onto his helmeted head. One of the soldiers had come up his other side. He managed to pull his sword free but not before the rifle was swung against his head. Beskar may protect from blasters and sabers but doesn't do much for blunt-force trauma. Dominik was knocked to the ground. He turned and slashed the sword through the air backhand, but the soldier had seen that coming. He pounced on top of Dominik and put the barrel of his gun underneath Dominik's helmet. He pulled the trigger.
Dark splatter when over both of their visors. The mud next to Dominik's head had exploded with the force of the blaster. His left robotic arm had come inside and knocked the gun and arm away just in time. He thrust his hips up hard, knocking the soldier off balance. Reflexively he reached out to catch himself, and Dominik knocked one of those arms out of the way, spinning that way and reversing their roles. He was ontop now. He flipped the sword around in his grasp and pushed it up into the guard's chest. At the same time he pointed his gun in the air.
"Stop!" He called. The soldier beneath of him was lightly convulsing inside his armor, shaking involuntarily. The sword hadn't bit too deep. "I stopped just short of cutting his celiac artery." He announced. "You twitch, you fire, and he dies." He counted six other guards left, plus Malum. He had been knocked around, broke a rib, his head was spinning and he wasn't sure he could make it through all these guys in his condition. "You want the saber and this man? Fine, but you leave now. I don't have the time to kill the rest of you, as much as I want to." He holstered his weapon and unclipped Val Drutin 's saber, tossing it towards the Sith. "Deal, Sith?" He put his hand back on his sidearm, waiting for the treacherous Sith to order his men to shoot. He hoped he didn't.
"I will not." Obviously, he recognized the potential validity of her assessment no matter how absurd it might have initially appeared. He knew—And he knew that she knew. That was more than enough. The fact that it came to him so swiftly, that he had spoken first, was more telling than anything else. The Sith before her had already claimed aspects of his existence that were the bane of the Darkside. Cybelle was sure that Sith came in many shades, however, sacrifice and selflessness were not traits found commonly among them.
They were currently surrounded by a Sith Order that believed in the scorch-and-burn method for the entirety of the galaxy. A twisted and brutal extremist warrior-cult that had evolved to produce literal sociopaths. It was not so different than the Bryn'adûl or the Sith Empire that had ruled the Eastern Reaches of the Unknown Regions with an iron fist. As a little girl—She had not understood the horror. How could she? How could anyone? But then…Countless refugees began to pass through Naboo that had lost everything. From their livelihood to entire family lines in one blow. Cybelle was full of hope because her heart yearned for a peaceful future…But she knew, loss.
She had been made an orphan at a young age. Not quietly. Not blindly.
This Sith would never know that she had been tasked, for years, with taking families back to the ruins of their homes on Naboo after a great cataclysm. He would never know that when the sky fell and corrosive darkness melted and liquified all it came in contact with, she was trapped with a group of younglings that...Hadn't all survived. He would never know that she had witnessed her Master give everything she had, and everything she didn't, to save as many as they could.
But—That was okay. His lack of knowledge wasn't his fault.
Cybelle knew pain as only a Jedi could.It was unique. Because it wasn't just her own pain that she recognized but the anguish that existed in others. She used her knowledge of the Light to fill the gaping wounds left behind by the world being unpredictable. To offer relief. Some chance, some way, to live a life that would bring fulfillment and extinguish regret. So that when they passed back into the Force as all things were destined to do…Those they left behind would remember and celebrate them.
Not mourn them.
It was a cycle of joy, of life, that she sought to perpetuate. Not hatred.
With that in the forefront of her mind, she couldn't find it in her heart to resent the statements made by the shadowed warrior. He seemed to have renewed fervor for this battle when his blade came around once more. Perhaps, it was the kick that sent him stumbling back or the fact that a little girl could stand before him without fear—But every strike came in rapid succession from then on. Every block, every deflection, was made in the nick of time. Whether it was deliberate or because she was slowly becoming overwhelmed by a barrage of swiping slashes…It would be hard to tell.
Cybelle got caught in a Force Pull and her body lurched forward for a moment before her armor compensated to increase her weight and lock her in place. The emerald green light of her blade flared when she drew it up to parry the strike that would have run her through regardless of the fact that she stopped her momentum. Pain. It was sudden and breathtaking, enough, that Cybelle released a small sound of surprise while her vision momentarily slurred. She released a pained gasp that was not quite a yelp—But the sudden stench of singed fabric and torched flesh would immediately lend clarity.
The shadowed warrior had gotten a little too close with the last thrust of his blade and it raked across her side, long enough, that the nanites could no longer compensate for the intense heat their weapons generated. The smart technology fractured and focused on the point of contact but it was too late. Her jaw set tight as agony wailed from the wound to her side even as she put distance between them. He hadn't even run her through and it felt like a blast wave electrifying her veins while it atomized the first few layers of skin. It was a form of blinding torment while her tissue suffered massive trauma until the feeling dulled as nerve endings were obliterated. The strip of ruined flesh was visibly charred through a hole in armored robes and she had to fight to keep her hand from covering it.
That would only make it worse.
Instead—Cybelle fell back into the defensive position that Djem So offered while breathing strictly through her mouth to avoid choking on the stench. Her shoulders heaved while she pushed through it and eventually, he would see the nanites begin to do their work and knit over the cindered edges of her robe to conceal the injury. It was by no means handled, but her armor repaired itself without thought. Blending through ash and soot to make it whole…While the burn festered.
It was a fair hit.
The young woman didn't have a single moment to acclimate before being pressed to defend herself again. She held the handle of her saber with one hand above and in front of her head, arm stretched out, with the blade horizontal to block any vertical slashes that might come from above. The man who didn't exist kept striking again, and again, while his strength reverberated down through her arm. He chose different angles that caused her to compensate immediately—Shifting from a high parry to a diagonal.
Cybelle was biding time.
It was true that Djem So tended to focus a lot on attack. The techniques were simple, but devastating when mastered to perfection as this Sith had surely done. However, it could be incredibly draining. Such strong attacks hammering down against her over and over would eventually take their toll while she had done her best to conserve energy. Many forgot, truly, about defense in this form. Cybelle leaned into it hard. Her focus had slipped into purely acknowledging combat simply because her opponent left her no other option. She could scarcely afford the time to breathe, let alone speak.
Tawny amber orbs followed the path of his saber and she was wary every time that he would take a burst of speed, a moment where she slowed, to attack her core. It was now her weakest point. Cybelle let the Force flow through her entire physicality to allow her to push through and overcome the wound that bit into the soft flesh of her side. The green of her saber slowly became a blur while she sliced down vertically toward her opponent, before jumping, to avoid a red blur from cutting her at the knees. The helmeted Sith continued to apply pressure with a telekinetic shove that pushed her back, before following through by raising his weapon high, in line with his spine, and then cutting down at an angle. Cybelle spun around clockwise, bringing her saber behind her back, arcing the blade around while her arms crossed over her head, to finally end in a slash where green collided with crimson once more.
The fight continued without a word. Nothing, but the sounds of lightsabers clashing and booted feet skittering and stomping across the floor. Cybelle, for the most part, was able to keep up. That was a feat in itself because lightsaber-related injuries were notoriously crippling. She fought with skill, all the while, creatively finding ways to do no harm. Moments, when she could have had the advantage, were released. Points, where she could have had an eye for an eye, were left to the wayside. At one point the masked entity caught her off guard with a clever mix of Teräs Käsi and swordplay that left her saber clattering to the floor when a pressure point was struck. She called for it wordlessly, an extension of herself, and it returned as if it had never left. Too quick, when he was already in motion.
Cybelle stood before the Sith Knight with an obvious opening that had not presented itself before. It would pass in the blink of an eye but time seemed to slow for the young Hapani. His arms were raised to strike her down, but it left his body vulnerable. She could have thrust her blade forward and let searing light burst swiftly into his chest cavity but again—she did not.
It was not hesitation that stilled her hand but determination. She was firm in her faith regardless of his desire to duel to the death. The slender woman fought not only for those that could be negatively affected by Project Jareth...But for his life as well. It was her duty. If she didn't do all that she could, all that she promised, all that she hoped, her own existence would be worth...Nothing.
Instead of achieving victory, she brought her saber across her torso to block once more but the numbing sensation of having a pressure point struck weakened her. She needed two hands now, if only, to keep standing beneath the weight of such decisively powerful blows.
Each strike pushed her backward. Each strike, left her with nowhere to move.
Nowhere to run.
Not without breaking her word. And that…Even for her own life…
"All things end. Even blackholes. Time comes to all Sith, you should know this by now." Wallgof growled. He was not there to trade barbs with the Sith, he was here for Brandyn and she was a mere distraction, aiding the enemy.
He laughed deeply, "the Maw suddenly caring about the sanity of their allies? I think not. No, all they care for is the death and destruction of the Jedi and the Galactic Alliance. It is a pitiful goal. Short term, when there is the bigger goal of ruling the galaxy, turning all those weaker into our slaves." Wallgof growled deeply, he was not pleased that this Sith was attempting to call him crazy, she knew nothing of him, of the pain he suffered or how he rose through the muck and craze to stand stronger. To be the prophet of Naga Sadow.
SHOW HER YOUR STRENGTH, STRIKE HER DOWN WHILE WE HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY THEN FOOL! Naga roared at the back of Wallgof's mind.
The Sith Lord shook his head, "No... No, I came for the Jedi, she can wait." He mumbled through gritted teeth.
"Ha. Love is weakness. Only a fool would allow such weaknesses in. Love will always betray and abuse." Wallgof growled back, he was not there to discuss the matters of the heart, this other Sith did not seem to pounce on him straight away. Ideal, it meant he was allowed to focus on Brandyn once more, this boy had become more resilient than before. He had demonstrated his skills were pass what Wallgof encountered before. However, Brandyn seemed horrified at the idea of some Sith would love him. It was amusing how judgemental these Jedi, warriors of justice and peace, could be so prejudice and cruel when someone didn't conform to their ways.
Pressing deeper into the mind, the visions of his sister weren't working, so Wallgof focused on the third, the unknown. It was a gamble but he could sense some connection between the two. Even in his crazed mind, he could see what was clear attraction and admiration. Wallgof worked hard, forcing vision after vision of Cybelle being tortured, crying and screaming out for Brandyn but Brandyn never helping. Watching the woman turn crazed and evil as Wallgof.
"People under pain, torture, cruelty. Boy, they will change and believe anything you tell them. How do you think your friend would react if I told her that you ran off with some pretty Sith lady instead of saving her. Do you think loyalty will keep her sane? Do you think love would save her? Or do you think she would crumble, all because you were too weak to save her?" Wallgof snarled darkly as he laughed deeply.
The crimson Lightsaber flashed swiftly as he sliced at the extended hand of Brandyn, aiming to slice it off and disarm the boy. He would make him more machine than man by the end of this duel if he had his way. If only to drive Brandyn more and more insane.
Objective: Strike Team Tano
Equipment: Lightsaber
Tag: Adeline Noctua
Dreidi didn't observe the eyes missing from the dead corpses around them. It was a distraction but the riddles that this Sith being was speaking was curious. It seemed as if that there was something more going on with this event or that this was not going to be as simple as demanding answers. It seemed to Dreidi that this being was insane, driven crazy and obsessed with eyes and seeing visions through them. It was concerning to her since it might be that the Jedi would rather kill her than detain her.
"Well, you'll never get the chance to find out." As she said this, she felt a hand grab her leg. Not even noticing the Sith had teleported herself, Dreidi focused on her Magick and the training, vanishing into green puffs of smoke. Demonstrating her own abilities with Magick and her ability to teleport as Dreidi reappeared high in the air. Holding her Lightsaber ready, she gracefully fell back down to the ground. "You aren't the only one to use Magick, Sith, I will say. Do not underestimate an opponent you have no knowledge on."
The fires caused by the war were perfect for Dreidi, she couldn't conjure her own from thin air at the moment, but she could use what was around her and utilise that to the best of her ability. Manipulating the flames, she sent a large blast of fire at the corpses. Attempting to deny this Sith minions to throw at Dreidi. She took a defensive stance and smirked. "Well, if you refuse to surrender politely, I will have to defeat you and take you in the harder way."
While she did not hold herself in cockiness or overly confident, Dreidi was attempting to give an air of being self-assured and ready to win. The winning mindset was half the battle in fights like this, at least that was what she had been told.
Keilara had many, many things to tell Asher. The man simply listened patiently, taking in her words, turning them over in his mind. It saddened him to think of all the suffering that Mercy - and the others who shared a body with her - had gone through in the galaxy since his death. For him, there had been no more suffering. Death was a release; it had set him free from the body that had been stolen from him, free from the hateful ideology of the Maw, free from the war that had consumed his life and turned him into an engine of destruction. He had returned to a simple existence here in the beyond, an existence without pain, a final peace.
When Keilara finished speaking, Asher rose from where he had been crouching. He set down his tools and took off his welding mask. All of the scars and maiming injuries that had consumed his physical body were long gone, washed away by the light - here he appeared as he wanted to imagine himself, healthy and strong, untouched by war. He approached Keilara and took Mercy's hand - and he felt his other half, Kallan, beneath the surface of this body. Asher closed his eyes. The energies of the Netherworld swirled as two parts of the same soul connected, sharing their memories and knowledge. Asher now knew all that Kallan had seen.
"You've all been through so much," Asher said, releasing Mercy's hand and stepping back to give them a little space. "I've seen it from Kallan's perspective now. You've struggled and suffered... but in the end, you made it. You arrived here, in a place where you don't have to struggle or suffer ever again." He smiled gently, reassuringly. He still remembered the pain and the grief and the guilt, the weight of all the awful things he had done while under the Maw's control, but they were distant now. The gift of the Netherworld was letting go. It was accepting what had happened and coming to terms with it, finding peace at last.
Asher hugged the twins close, feeling strange emotions well up inside him. He had never met them before; it was only through his death, the transition of his soul, that Mercy's strange pregnancy had occurred. But though they were technically strangers, he felt the bonds of family when he looked at them. He knew they were his, in a strange way - and they were also Kallan and Keilara's, for they had taken care of these two, had gone to the edge of the galaxy and the very heart of evil in order to protect them. "My kids," Asher said, and there was wonder in his voice. He had never expected to have the chance to be a father. "Our kids."
Supporting a twin with each arm, the man who had once been The Mongrel looked back up at Keilara. "This is a place of healing," he said, his voice even and reassuring. "It can't make everything better instantly, but over time it will help the old wounds to close. I will help Mercy. I will be there for her, in the way she was there for me." Without her, without the love she had shown to The Mongrel, none of them would have ever gotten this far. He would still be a soldier consumed by loyalty to the Brotherhood... or his soul consumed by the lurking entities of the Beyond, the parasites that feasted on the false faith of the Mawites.
"It's also a place of spirits. You and Kallan can step out of that body, you know. You can take on your own forms, the way you want to be. Then I can speak with Mercy, begin to help her." From behind Mercy's eyes, Kallan swallowed hard. He had been in this form so long now, making Mercy's mind his shelter. He found himself frightened of what it would like to be independent again, to be only himself, beyond the mind palace. But if he could share that life with Keilara, if he could step out and live beside her in a form all his own, it would be worth it. So he did. He emerged, swirling with Netherworld energy, forming a new body.
He looked a little different from Asher, different eyes and hair.
But it was still clear that they were two halves of the same whole.
"... Keilara?" Kallan asked, in a voice that belonged only to him.
"Mercy," Asher said gently, waiting for her to wake.
Location: Ritual Citadel
Objective: Bring forth the Avatars into the Galaxy.
Allies: Maw
Enemies: Jedi, Sith, any and all that stand against the Maw.
One by one the Mawite leadership would collapse in on itself. Kyrel Ren, Darth Mori, the Taskmaster all of them faded into oblivion, and only one could speculate who was left within the Brotherhood to take command. On the other hand this is what Kyrel, what the entirety of the Maw had hoped for since its very inception. The galaxy had to learn through the excruciating crucible that was death in order to learn the joys of rebirth such was the Mawite way. There was an ominous feeling, a sense of foreboding dread as the combined might of the Jedi from Lightpoint station as those below on the barren surface fed into the Light Side. The purpose was to finally rid this great evil of the Unknown Regions with a burning light of cataclysmic proportions. Any that touched the dark side at all on the surface would be instantly turned to ash.
Death could be felt en mass through the Force, some of it no matter how dark seemed almost unbearable to feel through the Force. The combined deaths of the Mawite leaders such as the Wounds Kyrel and Mori was a driving catalyst of dark energy that would feed back into the ritual citadel, inside the grand work of the Mawite Wrath would come to fruiting, for even when they died they didn’t die in vain as they would add fuel to bring the Avatars home. In one way or another all would experience the Mawite way, all would meet the Avatars the Maw held in highest regard, and was the basis for such extreme religious fervor, now it would all come to bear fruit in this moment.
Upon the mass death, and the light side of the force exterminating all in their path the temple started to shake. Many of the Mawite cultists and Heathen Priests around the ritual circle would chant, and soon the markers around them would glow blood red. All the death and destruction would feed the catalyst and trigger the opening rites from releasing the Avatars out of the Netherworld and bringing them into corporal space. The entire ruined floor would only continue to spread with these blood red markings, many of the symbols were taken from the Hidden Maw, and were all over the citadel.
The black, rectangular monoliths that were at the ritual center would glow brightly in blood red. The monolith markings were a mixture of the Sith language and the inscriptions from the Hidden Maw. When all four monoliths began to glow in blood red they released a thick red line that led towards the consuming energy provided by the red forked spear known as the Hunger, which stood at the very center of the ritual. Its forked tipped blades pointed up at the darkened sky. When all the energy of the monoliths started to converge on the dreaded spear the chants from the cultists and the Heathen Priests grew louder. All of it came to a violent crescendo as the spear would let out an ear splitting screech that only seemed to echo across the entire planet as if a trumpet was being sounded.
The loud screeching of the spear would stop, and what followed next was a brief moment of silence. That silence quickly came to an end as it was followed by a bright crimson glow of energy. The crimson beam would shoot violently into the sky. The blackened sky turned into a mix of blood red, lightning bolts would shoot out in the same bloody hue across the planet. The sky was no longer dark but a dreadful crimson, as the ground started to shake all around, and no matter where one stood on this hellscape of a world one could clearly see the crimson beam that had shot into the darkened sky. What came next following the shaking was a scream that echoed throughout the entire planet. It was clear to those who knew that the Avatars would be coming, to those who didn’t only would find out soon enough that Apocalypse was on its way.
- {Alpha Brigade: 3,037 | 0 | 180 _ KIA/WIA Via Ground & Aerial Units. | Misc. GADF Equipment & Units} - {Zulu Brigade: 3,363 | 0 | 107 _ KIA/WIA Via Aerial Units | Misc. GADF Equipment & Units} - {Tango Brigade: 3,260 | 0 | 145 _ KIA/WIA Via Aerial Units | Misc. GADF Equipment & Units} - {9,228 Units IA} - {2,860 Reserves. . . _ 40 Evacuated.} [Zulu Brigade Tank Units : 10/10 | X ]
[Tango Brigade Tank Units: 9/9 | X ]
As the 187th Irregular-Division & Its Strike Forces committed to an onslaught of hefty attacks against the last lines of mawite defenses for the local shipyards in the Forbidden District, Final Dawn AF distributing their Aerial-Forces who conducted a dual circular-arc defense/360-ring rotation defense around their ground forces; the 1st line acting as Fire-Support whilst the interior served as transports. The Tactic was efficient, it allowed GADF personnel to walk into a pure deathtrap.
"Intriguing; the Warlord isn't abandoning his forces. My laissez-faire stylized format of leadership has proven itself inefficient, we've gave them enough losses, enough, override any commands from Brigade-Officers, my word is order now. Defense-in-depth, the enemy is utilizing aerial-fire support and my tactical error to buy time; end the wave-tactics. I want those gunships shot out of the goddamn air, now!" Give someone power and they'll show the inner-shell of his character, the officers under Blavier's command were given tactical autonomy to do as they wished in some part and in some parts, limitation, and they failed.
The Alpha Brigade would halt the wave-tactics they were currently conducting, the respective would then utilize their infantry-companies in a secondary position, the GADF now would use the Mortar-Section of their Infantry-Companies to maximize heavy-damage, the Mortar-Units employing the use of Maneuver Tactics & Shoot-and-Scoot movements throughout the designated vicinity to deal damage to the Low Atmosphere Aerial-Units[Gunships, etc, EXCL: Starfighters] and Ground-Vehicle Groups, weapons in use being the REC-PWL-01 Warhead Launcher which was capable of hitting ground and air-targets from miles away alongside other Misc. Anti-Air/Anti-Aerial Weaponry. The goal of this being to reduce personnel losses whilst wearing the gunships down from afar, forcing either the relocation or a fastening in evacuation speed so the shipyards could be took. As for the Infantry-Units, their target was completing the mission of using Mawite-Controlled Anti-Air defenses against their owners. The main targets being the Interior group though assuming on the basis of Mortars if fired into the air would arc into the center-mass of the rings where the mawite units were hopefully.
As for 'Zulu' & 'Tango', the main Infantry Platoons were discontinuing endless wave warfare in way of a more effective Heavy-Weaponry Doctrine, unlike Alpha, the duo wasn't built for fast moving warfare, instead of mortar sections majority of those arrays being dedicated to Artillery & Tank Units. The REC-01 Battle Tank was the primary tank unit for both brigades, a behemoth of an attack vehicle, General Blavier stylizing the tanks to be in a dedicated-doctrine, Zulu Brigade using Variant Three or an Ion-Cannon as the primary Cannon on their vehicle while Tango used Variant-Two which was a Turbo-Laser Variant; bam bam warfare, the shields of the aircraft/gunships would be hit by the Zulu's Ion Cannons before the hulls itself would be pummeled by the Laser Cannons, the Exterior-Circular Gunship group being most effected. The Light-Infantry Units themselves were recovering while the heavy attacks groups met the gunships.
Even though this tactics would prove beneficial for the division, they needed to turn those Anti-Air Guns on with the goal of targeting the the DAWN Tie Interceptors who were being deployed, committing attacks against alliance ground forces. Defensive Units would need to stop the GADF Light Infantry who were blitzing infrastructure with the goal of capturing. The General sending a distress signal out for aerial-support aswell alongside a covert signal out to FD-Officers to negotiate.
Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr | Mercy | Freedom Mongrel's Shadow and his widow; Matriarch of the Scar Hounds Tribe; Guardian of Mongrel's armour and sword
FINAL ECLIPSE The Galactic Alliance will annihilate Exegol. // START: FEBUARY 1ST - END: MARCH 1ST // IT ENDS HERE. Valiens Nantaris "How vast a resolve must these people have, time and time again, to face hardship and horror and tragedy and terror, and still take up the mantle of freedom?" -...
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"Multiple hostile forces detected in orbit!" "The High Regent has engaged with the Alliance fleet!" "Jedi are attempting to breach the upper atmosphere. Do not let them break through to the shipyards or the Citadel. The ritual must succeed at all costs!" Orders, warnings, commands. They rang...
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Engaging: Sisserith Nearby Allies: Jasper Kai'el BB-610 Minerva Fhirdiad Tren Chaar Shar Sieu [ armor ] [ lightsaber ] [ blaster pistol ] [ drengr of the ragnarok ] Kahlil Noble had told him to be aware of his emotions. With the adrenaline feeding into his blood, it was hard to be aware of...
Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud, Archon of the Primyn Group Empress of Terraris, Supreme Commander of the Terraris Command, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium Objective: Survive (?)...
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Cordé Sabo It should have hurt. It didn't. Even as the sharp edge cleaved into her wrist Verin couldn't feel anything. Not over the waves of pain roiling through her. That was bad news, but Verin didn't say anything about it. There was no need to worry Cordé even more. The poor girl seemed...
______________________________________________________________ D U L C E T TASK FORCE NULL | EXEGOL | ????? ______________________________________________________________ fa-play fa-pause “I'm not worried." Cordé argued. Her words were tense and hard, but her voice was soft. " Because...
Location: Sith Citadel Objective: Escort the Dark Lord │ Salvage Artifacts Direct Engagement: Nathan Bloodscrawl What he could hit, she could catch. Quintessa’s chakrams came back fast, but it was nothing that the Aspiring Sith couldn’t react to, not only through her attunement to the weapons...
Location: Sith Citadel Objective: Escort the Dark Lord │ Salvage Artifacts Direct Engagement: Nathan Bloodscrawl What he could hit, she could catch. Quintessa’s chakrams came back fast, but it was nothing that the Aspiring Sith couldn’t react to, not only through her attunement to the weapons...
Location: Sith Citadel Objective: Escort the Dark Lord │ Salvage Artifacts Direct Engagement: Nathan Bloodscrawl What he could hit, she could catch. Quintessa’s chakrams came back fast, but it was nothing that the Aspiring Sith couldn’t react to, not only through her attunement to the weapons...
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5TH POST -AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY- CAIRN_ONE RINGLEADER OF THE PELLAEONIST CLIQUE WARDEN OF THE IMPERIAL KNIGHTS DRUID-GRANDMASTER OF THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD Tags (Friendlies): Siyndacha Aerin Aoki Mira Sahar Simon Meinrad Tags (OPFOR): Khaostra Devoid Marlon Sularen Erion Justeene...
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Jaqu'n Boiv | Alicio Organa Damian Du Couteau Tallara fastened the straps on her gauntlet. The Maw's equipment surprised her with how functional it was, but she had to fit it over another layer of armor hidden underneath. All in all, it felt more unwieldy than she was used to. She found...
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~ Keilara ~
I knew, I remembered from Mercy's memories that Asher was sad several times when something happened to Mercy or she was sad. Now that I had to tell him all the pain and suffering Mercy had been through. I wouldn't have been surprised if he was sad. But he knew it would be Mercy, seeing how she reacted when he told her he had come to Tython to die. When Mercy realised this, it broke her and this fact nearly killed and destroyed me forever. She was never exactly the cheerful person, born of revenge, anger, fear and hatred like Asher, but they made each other happier, made each other better. They looked after each other, protected each other. I know they killed for each other. But they were happy and when their minds were one for so long, they were already soul mates.
That's why I knew Mercy felt like she was being ripped apart when Asher died. She was disappointed and angry. She felt that it was not enough, not enough to keep Asher by her side, that he had always disappointed her and so he chose to die rather than be with her. But it wasn't true, even though I knew that.
"I remember details from the sixty years of life together what you and she spent together… from the alternate world that Mercy built for you when you were dying. In the mind palace, you can see that the twins looked exactly the same there in that life as they will here. I know you remember what it's like to be a father, because you once were. You might think of those sixty years as just a dream, but for Mercy it was very real. That time, those memories gave her strength. What hurt her the most was that you might never see the twins, that you might never be a father again, because she thought you were a great parent.." I smiled at him.
I watched with a smile as he held the children in his arms. It was one of Mercy's strongest and fondest memories from that alternate life.
"She liked this the most. Seeing your smile as you look at the twins. The first time it happened in that life, the first time you really realised that you created a life and didn't take it. Mercy said, and I think she was right, that in that life you were able to truly heal and let go of the past in that moment when they were born… the past that she was never able to let go, not even in that life." I said the last part sadly.
I glanced gratefully at Asher when he said he would take care of Mercy. Although I didn't really like her because she reminded me of all the bad things and that she was me in some way and she was me. But maybe that's why I cared about her and wanted her to get better. And of course, since we shared the same body. The next words scared not only Kallan, but me as well. Sure, we talked about our own body and our own life, but that was more of a fantasy and a dream than reality. It was the source of our hope.
Unlike Kallan, I had no memory of what it was like to live in a body. I have only just started to learn this astral projection. I watched as Kallan finally created a new body for himself after Asher's words. This was my original body, I was born into it, but I lost it around the age of three when I split into Ziare and Mercy. I didn't even exist for a very, very long time. The reality, even if it was the Netherworld, was not the safe mind palace. This corner of the Netherworld might be like heaven, as Asher says, but I knew through Freedom that there were countless horrible places here too.
I looked at Kallan after his words. I just had to cut the "thread" to get rid of the body that was mine. The two of them were like identical twins, like we were with Mercy.
"You also have to deal with Mercy's wound, the pain will no longer spread in three directions." I warned Asher, as I pointed to the injury on Mercy's side caused by the lightsaber.
I looked at Kallan again and did what I had to do. I left my original body and stepped out into the unknown. There were more differences between Mercy and me, not only our hair and eyes, but that body was full of marks of injuries, of torture, and she was terribly emaciated. I was in my usual form which I also used in the mind palace. I was still looking at my husband and moved closer to him. Even though we were in separate bodies and no longer shared the same mind, our minds and souls were still shared, that non-Force dyad still connected us; no matter what happens we were forever one. As are Mercy and Asher.
"Kallan!" I whispered and reached for his hand.
~ Mercy ~
Something was wrong; I was just in the phase where I was just starting to build the dream around me to dream what I wanted when I heard his voice. For a moment my heart beat faster. Asher's voice saying my name. This was not possible at this stage. It shouldn't have been, as I had it all under control perfectly. This never happened. Only darkness surrounded me, parts of the dream were vaguely visible, but nothing concrete yet. And yet his voice…
It made my soul even more painful to know that he was not with me, that I still knew how long I had to wait for us to be together. It might be days, weeks, or months before I get to the part where he lived. Maybe years. The Netherworld was very large, at least as large as Realspace, if not larger. After all, there were many other smaller dimensions in it. It might take eternity to find him.
The mental pain was accompanied by physical pain, my side. As if Keilara and Kallan were no longer trying to suppress the pain. Returning to a slightly more alert form, I looked around the mind palace. The place felt so strangely empty. It was like there was no one else in my mind but me. Fear began to surround me, maybe I didn't win? I did not defeat Tu'teggacha and it was all just an illusion on his part? All I could hear was Asher's echoing voice, but otherwise the place was empty.
~ KALLAN?! KEILARA?! ~ I shouted in the mind palace.
There was no answer, I groaned in pain, which grew even stronger as the fear grew more and more entrenched in my consciousness. I groaned again, this time in real life I think, where I was gasping for air faster and faster as I almost had a panic attack. Tu'teggacha swore to rip Kallan from my mind to make a new Mongrel. No, no, that can't happen. He couldn't! He couldn't have done it without me noticing. I tried to regain control of my body and open my eyes.
"NOOOO!" I screamed in fear and panic.
As soon as I opened my eyes, I saw dimly at first, but it was immediately certain that I was not in that dark and cold place. I clutched my hand to my side, the cut from the lightsaber hurt a lot. Someone was standing in front of me. I instinctively moved into a defensive position and moaned again. My heart was still beating violently from the previous panic and I was gasping for air, my chest also hurt from the panic attack that was starting. And of course there was the mental pain, and emptiness, and fatigue. I looked up at the person in front of me…
… in my current state, I looked so small and fragile in front of him. The way I looked at him, I knew it wasn't Kallan, but…
"Asher?" my voice was shaky and hoarse.
This… for a moment I felt infinite joy, and then even more pain. I was sure it was Tu'teggacha's torture. Confused and panicked, I stepped back, trying to break out of this torture, but I couldn't. A few metres away I saw Kallan and Keilara… I didn't understand what was happening. Could this be reality?
"Are you real? Is that really you?" I asked hoarsely as tears streamed down my face.
I tried to reach out to him with my mind to find out if it was really him, that I wasn't imagining things. That I really have the love of my life and the other half of my soul in front of me. If so, our minds had to merge again on their own, since we were one. If he said in words that he really is and our minds are connected, then I would cry and move closer to him, both in reality and in the mind palace, and then I would hug him. I didn't kiss him anywhere, I just hugged him without saying a word, tightly, I buried my face in his chest and sobbed loudly, trembling, both in our safe minds and in reality.
"Asher!" I sobbed.
I wanted to apologise because I let him down again and again... that I couldn't live without him and I couldn't even continue and finish the movie we watched before Tython without him.
"Asher…" I continued to sob uncontrollably.
Because of the pain and grief I've felt over the last year and a half and maybe the relief that this is real and he's here…
TRIBULATIONS OF THE WILDCATS V: A DEATHLY POGROM - PART 8
SOLIPSIS BEACON-SQUARE, DISTRICT OF THE TITAN, THE SITH CITADEL, EXEGOL (SUMMER 878ABY)
'AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA!!!! I LOVE IMPERIAL SALVOS, SO I DO!!!!'
With every barrel firing at will, all the Goidels who slipped through the portal in time were unleashing vicious concentrated fire on the silent horde in the distance, feeling no need to set the line for a fighting-retreat with all the aggression they had to offer the Avatars' deathly denizens by then. Resupplied, replenished and recalibrated for the one last fight for survival, all armed to the teeth with nasty melee-tools to make it even more difficult for the monsters to assail them - the Wildcats were ready.
For death or for glory, everyone was exactly where they wanted to be.
'Just look at it, lads! They expected fear an' hesitation, now look at 'em! READJUSTING - FOR US!!!!'
But opening salvos were only exactly that, and in their misfortunately-primitive levels of comprehension of the Galaxy around them, it was clear that they would need to readjust in the real fight that followed, rendering their first big barrage little more than an explosive greeting until the real winning strategy presented itself. However, despite the minor setback to ammunition reserves, Lord Aron was confident they had enough reserves left to that effect, and more than enough for effective targeted fire to turn the tide. The hordes beyond were also fortunately patient, though it was clear they all retained unnatural levels of quickness and ferocity, even from as far a distance as that enjoyed by the Wildcats at the time.
'The big one, i.e. the brain, is what controls the drones. But I think the big one has shields and other physical and mental protection. Thus, the drones should be destroyed first, because they can cause problems if only the brain remains. I'm going to do everything from here so that the brain can control the drones as little as possible while you attack.'
Surprised by the comprehensive breakdown of an otherwise-celestial foe, the scarred Tuath smiled in appreciation for the good fortune of working with such a useful Valkyrie, and on such a fateful night to make the approval all the more welcoming to express as the Kellas listened on in silence; and with the Raging Stag on hand to take on every piece of information as well, the Saint would be safe in her assumptions of proper coordination on the Wildcats' part, as every single angle of this strategy counted on their ability to keep the drones off the most-vital element in the plan itself. So when Eina finally prompted,'You can start!', all it took was one look from Lord Aron to Lord Byron to set everything into motion, silently setting their tasks without so much as a nod of confirmation needed.
<"Forward operators, this is Scott- some will read, some won't. Just be sure to instruct to follow your lead.... Quick orders this time, defensive strat just like before. So we'll be needing those IFVs to shield the Valkyrie's flanks, infantry and such to push farther forward and set into two defensive crescents - outward curving for better concentrated effect. Make it happen, lads.">
Moments later, all were in place, aiming to the gathering masses beyond as they waited for the final command from Guard-Captain Scott, and as soon as Lord Byron stepped forth to hold in coordinating centrality between both crescents, the drones began to move again - pushing out wider in a clear attempt to draw Imperial fire away from the entities controlling them.
All the approaching drone-creatures then began to slow down, behaving more predictable and sluggish before long, making it all the easier for the Imperials by the time the approaching masses began to stumble and stutter in their movements. It was enough, even if only for a time before the swarm picked up steam again, there was more than enough breathing-room offered to adjust and intensify the next salvo; so in seeing the moment for opportunity, Lord Byron looked back and forth between both defensive formations as his thumb readied to prime for comm-link orders, confident in the Valkyrie's plan as a sly grin flashed across his lips in anticipation.
<"Launchers, IFVs, aim for the brain! Rifles, shotguns and the like should focus on the drones! Headshots if you can, though anything debilitating will be acceptable here, so do not shy away from your grenades! SO LISTEN UP!!!! WEAPONS FREE, MARK YOUR TARGETS - FIRE AT WILL!!!!">
'It would be for the best if you drew that Fragarach of yours, Kellas! Look lively now, lest I end up saving your hide for a fourth outing!'
As soon as the Heavy-Disruptor pistol was drawn from his right side with the left hand, (still according to Free-State doctrines at the apex of his prominence) Lord Aron looked to Eina as she admitted,'This creature is very powerful!', understanding what she meant for the most part, but only insofar as his ability to comprehend the celestial aspects of the happenings throughout his military career. Then in silent reply, Gowrie's shoulder politely bumped against L'lerim-Vandiir's to get her attention for a moment, smiling to ease any concerns at the last hurdle as all mayhem broke out around them, and in clear understanding of what the Valkyrie was implying.
'Aye, you might be right about that.... But so are you, an' I'm confident you have what it takes.... Also, feel free to use telepathy if it helps - its just that the Goidels are jus' a wee bit too primitive to respond in the same way. A generational thing, though when you come back to Galidraan with us, you'll see what I mean.'
<"INCOMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!!">
All Hell was breaking loose, with all guns blazing from both crescents in all their defensive glory, and as soon as the warning was given on all barely-functional comm-link channels, this would serve to herald in the Major-General's moment to shine with a fanfare like none he had ever known before. It was enough to roar with gleeful abandon, but the Kellas was wise to bottle it up and channel it instead, pacing out ahead of the Saint as his first disruptor trails hit their marks, moving as far forward as possible so as not to obstruct Eina's view in their fright for survival. All working to the Major-General's benefit, as in his stationary position, Lord Aron was easy enough to spot by any breakthroughs between the two crescents, which was perfect for his intent to bait any otherwise-lucky drones towards his blade and away from the Saint he was protecting specifically.
'ASHLAAAAAA!!!! IN YOUR GOOD NAME, WE CONQUER ALL DARKNESS, ALL EVIL AN' ALL FEAR - AS ALL THINGS WONDROUS SHOULD BE!!!!'
As he roared his faithful declaration of steadfast commitment to the deathly struggle, the Kellas had raised Sting o' Frost above his head and pointed it to the skies above, letting the drones and the controlling entities see the bright glow as Gowrie held his ground, brazenly committing to his great leap of faith as the planet cracked, rumbled and coughed it's death-knell beneath him. Then just as two giant, hulking drones pushed through towards the glow of the sword, soaking up blaster-fire and slugs from the moment their beeline began, Lord Aron inhaled through his nostrils, threw his head back and roared with all his might.
