Invasion [GA | DE] Operation Shadow Hand | GA Defense of Tython, Empress Teta, & Prakith

[Ashley Nevermore]

3rd Shocktroopers
Objective: Push them back
Engaging: Janus Cassel Kroeger
Allies: Gress D'ran | Cael Corvax | Kaleleon | Lycus Merita | Alicio Organa | Drego Ruus
Enemies: Jon Hojkstra | TK-818 | Salvor Thul | KN-967 | Sahar | Thomas Barran

​

"We need to get out of the kill box before they rip us apart. Check weapons, we're getting the hell out of here."

His hand motioned toward a nearby building, or rather what was left of it.

"Cover and move."

Tossing a blaster pistol to the ISB agent, Janus' masked gaze stared the man down.

"You're one of us now. Hopefully you've spent some time at the range."​

With phase two-aurek kicking off, it meant Dreadnought, the armored unit originally in support of Iron Will, would push across the wet gap to create a second breach, pushing through the Alliance defenses in the hopes of linking up at a designated rally point deeper into Cinnegar to encircle and kill a large swathe of Alliance trapped within. Using the buildings, alley ways and defensive positions as cover, heavy Imperial walkers and armor continued providing fire support, punching back against the Hellstompers with every pass.

Under the cover, a similar movement jetted across the waterway to join Kroeger and 'Iron Will' on the other side. They had to cut and slice their way out of this trap.

The comms trooper knelt down by Kroeger before he passed on his message the old fashion way.

<"Sir! Dreadnought is passing over the wet gap now to bolster the breach! ISR is reporting that Alliance is putting 'Herd at the top of their HPTL."> The heavy walkers and armor meant to be the fixing piece of the Empire's breach were taking a bulk of the punishment. Kroeger grit his teeth instinctively beneath his helmet, pressing the push-to-talk to his internal comm-link.

<"I need our air clear, if it has barrels up to the sky, it's going first! Make sure the whole damned Legion is aware!"> He barked out at his RTO before he raised his own commlink up to send a message, to Jon's element. Whether it reached the man himself or KN-967 , he hardly cared. He read the callsign identifier, 'Kane' with a narrow of his eyes before he pressed the push-to-talk.

"Womprat to Firebird, eyes on enemy RTO. Taking the shot."

Ashley could only pray as she saw a bolt from her famed marksman's Spot zoomed through the air at the RTO, doming the stormtrooper right in the head. She knew a man was down, but she couldn't worry about who right now. She needed to push on. As she, her PS, and her RTO entered the building, they were met with Janus Cassel and their squad entering as well. Ashley opened fire with her Talon, before unleashing a sticky grenade from her underslung at the squad, hitting one of the stormtroopers in the chest.

This was it. The final push.

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Lord Kalrath Aris Noble Zaiya Ceti

The agonizing shriek of pain that erupted from Braze echoed off the walls. The young Padawan was overwhelmed, his knees buckling under the weight of his anguish as the Sith Lord continued his cruel demonstration of power. The sound of his index and middle fingers being ruthlessly snapped right after his wrist was a horrific sound.

As Requiem, was forcibly wrenched from his grasp, a part of him felt severed, too. The blade, a symbol of his commitment and identity as a Jedi, flickered and died as if mourning its separation from its master. The grip's pressure sensor, designed to respond to the user's touch, recognized the absence of Braze's hand, deactivating the blade and extinguishing the last bit of Barze's hope.

Kneeling, defeated, Braze panted, the pain searing and surging through his hand and up his arm. He had to do something else. This wasn't working... but what could he possibly do to a threat like this? There was a bright light once more as he slunk forwards to the ground. He was overwhelmed with pain... but pain was something he could over come... if he could calm his mind and racing thoughts. He started to gather air about himself it was as if the wind started to pick up around him. He shifted catching the glint of Airis suddenly close by. he shifted to sit up again trying to follow the movement with his eyes. This wasn't good. He shut his eyes trying to reach out to Aris looking to forge a connection to communicate. This was too chaotic.

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

TEARS OF ASHLA
objective 2

Location: Aboard the NIV Predator.
Tags: Marlon Sularen Zethran Cott Ignacious Korvan Sinestra Reiner Ghadi Cessair Ideon Auteme Aerarii Tithe Arla Rodarch Cessair Ideon Vaux Gred Ari Naldax Ordo Amelia von Sorenn

Equipment in bio.
Open for interaction.

​

The shadow of Ptolemis lingered aboard the Alliance One, listening, shifting from alcove to ventilation shaft, from the bridge to the hangar. With each minute passing, the picture becomes clearer for the Sith Lord spying in on the happenings aboard the enemy flagship. Wailing klaxons dominate the mental image, and streaks of laser pave the way toward a sense of… betrayal from within.

Back on the bridge of Marlon Sularen 's NIV Predator, with nothing more to learn, the Blasphemer promptly turns from the viewport and makes his way toward the turbolift. A palpable feeling of crisis is brought back from the Force-fueled espionage as his conjured connection crumbles. His midnight robe slithers behind him as he walks, and from within its folds his pallid hand emerges. Half-way to the lift he stops. With the flick of a finger, a datapad is telekinetically torn from the grasp of a comms-assistant nearby. The object flies across the room, Ptolemis raises his hand and calmly catches it mid-air. As he begins typing, he addresses the officer. – There is some sort of emergency aboard one of the enemy flagships out there… I am not absolutely certain which one. – Jotting down fragments of possible attack angles and proposed positioning patterns of the Alliance fleet he saw on projections through the eyes of the shadow… – Here. – Ptolemis concludes and tosses the datapad back to the communications crew member he took it from, then turns to the elite warrior standing next to him.

He looks into her eyes. – There is no better time. Are you familiar with the ways of battle meditation?
​

Sinestra

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

LINE OF SUCCESSION // ALLIANCE ONE
Auteme

Tithe turned to face Auteme. A showdown between the two had been inevitable since he’d stepped foot on Alliance One. In many ways, the fight was long overdue. While Auteme had saved Tithe from the Sith Empire decades ago, he’d repaid her by corrupting the Alliance senate and leading an inquisition that had seen the Jedi falsely incarcerated. Her administration was undoubtedly trying to clean up the mess Tithe had created.

His thumb rubbed against the alchemised ring he wore. While the small item helped to shroud him from the Force, he’d been told it also created an easy-to-detect void - a necessary risk for the mission the Dark Empire had charged him with.

Tax writedowns. Non-negotiable bond. Unfavourable audit findings. He had to focus on credits to resist her mind probes.

“Ah yes, your persistent shortsightedness continues to sully your Chancellorship,” Tithe replied. He needed to monologue and buy time. “Imagine the vast power of the galactic core within your grasp, yet you squander it on trivialities such as democracy and freedom. The wealth of credits beyond imagination awaits, merely a signature away for one with the foresight to seize them.”

Tithe’s pupils subtly interacted with his data goggles as he spoke. The Trade Federation engineers who had built Alliance One for Tithe had buried hundreds of override codes within the executive cruiser. Tithe just needed to find the most appropriate command code while also monologuing and trying to think about credits rather than the task. All of this, while face to face with a powerful Jedi intent on stopping him.

Cash conversion rates. Tax havens. Margin calls. He struggled to focus on credits as he selected an appropriate override code. Best to keep talking.

“For countless cycles, the Alliance has stewed in the heart of the Core, reigning as the unrivalled titan of cosmic dominion,” he continued. “Absent are worthy adversaries or stimulating contests to capture the collective imagination. The government teeters on the brink of uncertainty, and even the once-vibrant engine of corporate ambition, which once propelled the Alliance to celestial heights, now languishes in a parched desert of innovation. Even now, the vaulted halls of the Senate…”

Tithe’s monologue trailed off as he found a suitable override code and activated it.

Without warning, a mechanical arm swung down from the roof and plucked Tithe from the catwalk. The industrial crane, better suited for repositioning hyperfuel canisters and replacement sublight drive components, wrapped its three high-strength claw arms around the Aargauun as he was hauled to the far side of the engine room. The machine unceremoniously dropped him onto another catwalk with a wet crunch, accompanied by a yelp of pain from the banker.

Four other crane arms descended on Auteme, their clawed fingers snapping at the Jedi and threatening to crush her if she was caught in their grasp.

The squad of green-armoured Storm Rangers moved through the quiet hallways of Alliance One, using detailed schematics of the executive cruiser supplied by the Trade Federation to avoid busy parts of the ship. Three Alliance brewers had crossed paths with the elite sabotage team, and during the after-battle clean-up, three bodies would be found stuffed into lockers.

The commandos paused at a blastdoor. The pointman inserted a slice probe into the data socket and quickly unlocked the compartment. The six soldiers moved in, peeling left and right as they entered and quickly moved to control the room. A quick burst of blasterfire neutralised the Alliance technicians working at their consoles.

The Storm Rangers moved forward, dragging the dead technicians from their consoles as two commandos moved back to cover the blastdoor. A quick search revealed the console they were looking for, into which another data probe was inserted.

A message appeared on the holoscreen - ‘Shield frequency data uploading…’

 

[Janus Cassel]

OPERATION: SHADOW HAND

Allies: TK-818 , KN-967 , Jon Hojkstra , Kroeger , Sahar , Thomas Barran , Salvor Thul

Enemies: Lycus Merita , Gress D'ran , Ashley Nevermore , I'dadr Gargon

T O R M E N T

"Sir, fireteam Xesh is mobile, awaiting further orders."

"Send our coordinates. We'll need their firepower to get out of this."

The ruined building had certainly provided their motley crew with a moment of reprieve, but Janus knew they could not remain here for long. Sooner or later, some Alliance dog would have them zeroed in or call in an air strike, and that would be the end of them. Janus certainly did not plan to remain useless in the fight, and he most certainly did not plan to die today. The only way out is through, he would think to himself. Push until the enemy cannot withstand you anymore.

"Order fireteams Krill and Forn to-"

A shot rang out before Janus could finish his sentence, his comms officer falling dead before the second order could even be spoken. Janus' body slammed against the wall, his eyes darting around.

"Anyone get eyes on the shooter?"

No... of course they didn't. Half of these men weren't even part of his unit, so perhaps he was expecting too much. The Empire was still young, after all. Though many among their ranks had seen their share of battle, there was an equal amount of unbloodied rookies within the ranks.

Moments later... all hell broke loose. Another bolt of plasma ripped through the air, taking out another Imperial soldier. It was followed by a grenade, prompting Janus to duck behind a pile of rubble.

"GRENADE!"

BOOM!

Dust and shrapnel flew through the air, filling the air with smoke and dust as Janus and his men began returning fire. Janus cursed under his breath as he put two shots into the chest of an enemy soldier. Their luck had continued to run out it seemed, yet Janus simply replayed his mantras in his head as they continued to fight for their lives.

In adversity, victory...

Yes... the only way out was through.

 

[Reiner Ghadi]

OPERATION: SHADOW HAND

Tags: Auteme , Aerarii Tithe , Marlon Sularen , Cessair Ideon, Zethran Cott, Darth Ptolemis , Ignacious Korvan

B O U N T Y

In battle, the timing of one's movements was everything. Strike too soon, and you risk showing your hand. That was something that Reiner knew the Vice Admiral understood, and no doubt he shared Reiner's thoughts on the ruse played by the Imperial fleet. Cessair Ideon was a clever tactician, after all, but whether that would end up winning the day was yet to be seen. For all of their strength and influence, the Alliance had grown lazy... complacent...

Weak.

Surely there were those that still held some semblance of the Alliance's old ability to wage war, but the Imperials were born from blood and tibanna. Theirs was a life of eternal struggle. Theirs was a world of fire. Should the Alliance hope to maintain any level of pride in their identity, they would have to ask themselves exactly how far they were willing to go, and just how much they were willing to sacrifice.

Fortunately for Reiner, he had made his own decision long ago.

"Sir, it appears there seems to be some sort of malfunction aboard Alliance One."

There it was.

"You may fire when ready."

A few moments later, plasma ripped through the darkness of space from the Aphran Defense Fleet, unleashing a barrage against the nearest Alliance ships. If the ruse from the Imperials wasn't going to work, then perhaps Reiner could at least divide the Vice Admiral's attention.

"Open an encrypted channel to the Predator. Let them know the game is afoot."

Weakness... stagnation... it was almost enough to make him gag. He had done what he could to correct the trajectory of the Alliance, yet he and his ilk had been spurned for simply holding themselves to a higher standard. No more chaos. No more stagnation. One way or another, the galaxy would move on from the chaos.

There would be order.

Now all that was left was to see where the chips would fall, and with any luck, to find a way to get Tithe off of that ship.

 

[Gnost Zym]

Ko Vuto​

---

Flames reflected in obsidian goggles. Darth Howl drew strength from the Sithspawn's explosive demise. He could feel power flow through him. Bending the Force to his will, to summon the winds of Tython was a trivial matter. Remnants of corrupted willow flung around in a whirlwind. His dark robes billowed with each supernatural gust.

"This is not about good or bad," Howl's outstretched hand curled into a fist, "This is about power and who is allowed to use it."

The acolyte reached for his belt and drew out an elegant black lightsaber hilt. Crimson plasma energy emerged like a coiled vexis. Darth Howl cracked the lightwhip loud enough to be heard over a mournful gale. Its bled kyber crystal radiated a sickening aura.

"I gave you the chance of aiding me willingly, but you have elected the way of pain."

Howl lashed out with unexpected ferocity for a kel dor who until now appeared so calm. He cracked the whip again, this time in an arc aimed at the young padawan's dominant shoulder.

 

[Sinestra]

HARBINGER OF CHANGE // Issue 1​

Allies: Marlon Sularen | Darth Ptolemis
Enemies: The Alliance | Arla Rodarch

"The NIV Predator has been outfitted with state-of-the-art internal security systems designed specifically to counteract the efforts of any boarding party." Sularen explained. "If our security was compromised, we would known about it already." the Grand Admiral added, fully confident in the recent upgrades made to his Flagship "However that is not to say our enemies won't attempt to board my flagship given how overconfident our enemies often are in their abilities. Even then your presence here along with that of Lord Ptolemis, in addition to the security systems and the onboard compliment of soldiers should be enough to keep this ship out of enemy hands"

"Very well, Admiral." the seer acknowledged the Sularen's response, before turning her attention to the viewport ahead leaving the Grand Admiral to his duties. She stared into the dark canvas that stretched to infinite and beyond, her eyes tracing the flickering dots of distant stars as if urging to find a pattern, a sign from the Force of what the future held.

Her focus broke when the black figure of Lord Ptolemis, who had stood ominously idle like a planted totem of darkness, turned heel towards the turbolift. Sinestra's gaze followed the Sith as he spoke to a communications officer nestled in the crew pits, before his crimson masked turned to her.

– There is no better time. Are you familiar with the ways of battle meditation?

She frowned, remaining silent for a moment unsure of her answer, "Vaguely." her only utilization of the ability had been as a support conduit to a Jedi who had mastered it, amplifying their strength, but anything more was beyond her reach.

 

[Thomas Barran]

5th Post

-TERROR PREVAILS-

THE_BLOODHOUND
GREAT KHAN OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
WARLORD OF RHIGAR & MAR'ZAMBUL
DIVINE CHAMPION OF MOTHER REBIRTH

Tags
Friend: Ardana Vorco Kroeger Maestus
Minako Aoki-Barran KN-967 TK-818 Kazian Blackwood
Jon Hojkstra Sahar Rath Nihro Salvor Thul

Foe: Ashley Nevermore Gress D'ran Makai Dashiell
Casteel Mer'taal Lycus Merita Alicio Organa
Silas Westgard Damian Du Couteau I'dadr Gargon Ruus Kote
Vo Pandyn Shev Skirata Anakwor Farlorn

A NEW CENTURY, A NEW TERROR II: ULTRAVIOLENT BEGINNINGS - PART 8

​

GREYZONE OUTPOSTS,
BATTLEFRONT: NORTH,
CINNEGAR, EMPRESS TETA (901 ABY)

-DARKHANS IV-

THUD

<"Second drop complete, Nail. We're not hanging around with this low-visibility - I get it.... Works well enough for everyone else, but its nightmare fuel for air-dropping antics. Logistics Command - returning to base!">​

The fearsome Seeratteri Stonechewers, long had it been since Nail last heard their deep, guttural growls, though it was certainly the greatest of coincidences that their previous implementation would be on none other than the day he met the Shriven One for the first time. Almost as though the Darkhan himself was walking through a history incomplete by then, walking through only a small part of the story, as any such experiences would feel the same way throughout any and all suchlike third iterations; but just as the hulking cyborg began to walk in the right direction, he would find himself understanding that this third battle could very well be the last of it's kind on Empress Teta, as anything otherwise would have been nothing short of accursed for both sides of the struggle.

The Cinnegar chapter was in need of a lasting conclusion, to close the book on all that transpired there. The natural backdrop beyond the city, far and near-unreachable though it might have been - deserved more than this.

'LETS GO!!!! EVERYBODY GET BELOW GROUND!!!! GET THOSE BACKSIDES SHIFTING, YOU BUNCH OF LAZY, USELESS KARKERS!!!!', the hulking cyborg-human roared in reactive anticipation, understanding all the Logistical demands for all that would unfold next, knowing what awaited the city's eastern districts from the moment those cages were unlocked. Even going so far as to shunt the slower runners among them, grabbing and launching whoever lagged behind as obsenities ensued,'GO!!!! GO!!!! GO!!!! YOU'D RUN FASTER IF YOU KNEW WHAT I WAS UNLEASHING, YA DUMB FETHWITS!!!! GO!!!!', leaving no Marauder unchastized on his way to the dropzone.

Time was very much of the essence by then, but in remembering that these beasts weren't to be unleashed until the Bloodhound gave the signal - Nail earnestly switched his Comm-Link frequency to prompt whatever his Great-Khan was planning from the offset.

<"Nail to Bloodhound - standing ready to unleash the Warbeasts. What are your orders?">
<"Bloodhound to Nail - stand by.">

A NEW CENTURY, A NEW TERROR II: ULTRAVIOLENT BEGINNINGS - PART 9

​

MARIMA BOULEVARD,
BATTLEFRONT: NORTH,
CINNEGAR, EMPRESS TETA (901 ABY)

'GREAT-KHAN!!! REQUESTING PERMISSION TO FOLLOW OUR SCOUTS THROUGH THE SEWERS!!!!'
​

The eager ones were likely already dead, or very much in a position to make peace with mortality, and without any inward urge to soften the blow or humour what-ifs, Barran was in no position to cow to the demands of the inexperienced. Thomas knew, and almost as soon as the first ammunition depot was bombed, that this particular fight for dominance over the headquarters compound (from start to finish) would get a little messy before long.

'You'll do no such thing, Beastrider. I have other plans for your tribe, let our Razorghasts handle this.'

As soon as the optimal moment arrived, expected by then by all who were privy to the Bloodhound's plans, Barran knew he would have no issue with sending out,"The Little Horde.", to complement the westward push of Rook Darkhan's contingent, but only if conditions suited following the unleashing of the Ts'Kiza Branchlurkers Thomas had sent for Rook's (with the rest sent for Dreamer's-) part in the strategic implementation of warbeasts. But despite the quickness to act, the Bloodhound remained adherent to the concurrent steps of the plan itself, resigned to wait whilst his Darkhans worked to coordinate the mayhem they intended to unleash together, though it wouldn't take much longer after that.

'Great-Khan.... What about the micro-droids?'

Turning back to the Atrisian, Thomas would pause for a moment before shrugging it off for the sake of streamlining the operation, replying,'Kark the micro-droids, we'll use 'em next time.... Perhaps when there's better opportunities, but for now - we have to ready up. Either to attack, or to bug out.... We'll know soon enough.', as his one-remaining eye turned southward in renewed silence, a stifled impatience. Time was never on their side, ringing true for Scar Hounds and Mawsworn alike, ringing true even since their arrival for the Third Battle of Cinnegar, since their harrying operation commenced - and even in the vital moments when Thomas expected every aspect of his plan to come together.

<"Nail to Bloodhound - standing ready to unleash the Warbeasts. What are your orders?">
<"Bloodhound to Nail - stand by.">​

'Ghoul.... Snatch me some public Comm-Link channels!'

Yet Barran would have no reason to worry, as all his Darkhans were standing more eager than ever to get the second wave underway with lasting finality, more eager than ever to unleash mayhem of which the city had seen too many times already.

'Going live in 5, 4, 3.... Now!'

<"Greetings, my old, dear friends.... Your city knows me well, an' perhaps - my master all the more..... For I am the Bloodhound - heir to the Mongrel's legacy.... HEIR TO THE LEGACY - OF MOTHER REBIRTH!!!!">​

The one-eyed Woad clicked off the receiver, firstly so as not to distract with the cheers and jeers of all those subordinates in close proximity to it's in-built microphone recorder, and secondly in a clean pause for effect; raising one's voice was always taught best as short affairs, for none wished to hear the screaming ramblings of a madman, and the Goidelic part of Barran's soul would never let him forget it. As unlike (the near-death disappointment of-) his previous attempt to lead his own part in an assault on Empress Teta, the Bloodhound knew he would need to acquit himself in an entirely different manner for the second attempt, choosing this time to remain beholden to the battle-doctrines the Khanate knew, and knew better than most others the horde had learned along the way.

Beholden to the impact he intended to make on the Galactic Core, marking his place in the minds of his enemies once and for all.

<"It is time we wiped the Galactic slate clean, for sentience, civilisation in all it's forms, an' every political system therein - has failed the Cosmos..... Thus it falls on a Khan to let nature rule once more, a nature without soulless industry, flora without gangrenous fauna there to hinder the wilderness. This is the only legacy you have to call your own, that which you earned all by yourselves.... NATURE PREVAILS, NATURE - RECLAIMS!!!!">​

With a simple nod in Ghoul Darkhan's direction, the public channels would be gifted back to the defenders once more, left to ponder the Bloodhound's words whilst his Atrisian subordinate dutifully opened a Comm-Link hail to the other three Darkhans. The time for action was well and truly upon them, and in the rushes of excitement, all around the Great-Khan would roar with joyful abandon, feeling every word as if each and every syllable was enough to breathe life into their rage once more. A fitting tribute for all that their leader had suffered, resisted and bled in the long and arduous struggle against the Galaxy, for the imprisonment Thomas had and likely-would embrace again in the future, but most of all - for all their Great-Khan had promised to inflict on gangrenous civilisation.

That which branded them all outlaws, as lowly, common criminals.

<"Your orders, Great-Khan?">
<"Ready and waiting!">
<"Standing by.">

Let the games begin.
<"SIC 'EM, BOYS!!!!">​

First to reach the ears of those holding out on the Mawsworn static-line would be the Stonechewers, crashing through the thick Durasteel plating of the gates that previously held them in place, sending out clattering echoes of inanimate clamour as their deep, bellowed growls followed suit almost an instant later. Crushing everything in the Grey-Zone that stood in their path, the dust kicked up would only further-thicken the murky, dry haze that affected visibility for opposition, thus the Stonechewers would be left alone to their own devices, flattening and destabilising the landscape whilst Nail's contingent watched on in amazement. Yet that would not be all for the echoing reverberations of the Khanate's warbeasts that day, and especially not with the strange, cackle-like shrieks of the Branchlurkers Barran ordered to be sent to the outposts on both flanks, heralding in the addition of their own maddening ferality to the festivities.

'FOR MOTHER REBIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRTH!!!!'

Erupting with echoing reverberations of their own, all the nearest Scar Hounds there to hear Ghoul's proclamation would scream, holler and howl like their own brand of warbeast, unleashing every last reserve of force their lungs had to offer, screaming with an abandon so infectious that even the Onderonians' mounts started braying in unison with their riders. Infectious enough that not even the Bloodhound could keep himself from joining the crescendo within the compound, granting all around him a little more fighting morale before the day was decided, and regardless of whether the Mawsworn fully committed that day or not, the Great-Khan would stand satisfied in the knowledge that their collective statement of intent had been made before the end.

​

 

[Casteel Mer'taal]

The Shopping District
Empress Teta - Cinnagar
Interacting with: Makai Dashiell

Raising his eyes from the holographic display, the Anaxai directed his attention to Makai. A subtle quirk of amusement danced at the corner of his mouth, betraying a mild sense of intrigue.

"You phrase it as though it were a misfortune," he remarked, a dark brow arching in query. Casteel held a favorable opinion of the elder Dashiell; their acquaintance had proven fruitful in matters of business, and he appreciated Judah's commitment to safeguarding Myra's interests. Their understanding was one of mutual respect, founded upon diligent work ethic and equitable business practices.

It was a standard Casteel hoped Makai would strive to embody further.

"Your father is a man of honor and integrity," Casteel continued, diverting his focus back to the holoscreen. According to the reports, the bank staff had adeptly executed the emergency protocols, ensuring the safety of personnel by relocating them to fortified bunkers beneath the tower. While casualties had been incurred during the initial onslaught, medical assistance was promptly administered within the bunkers, mitigating the severity of injuries.

Under the circumstances, it was an optimal outcome.

"His commitment to his word is unwavering, he demonstrates a commendable dedication to his obligations, and his work ethic is above reproach." Casteel praised, his fingers deftly navigating the keys as he resumed his tasks. "In the echelons I frequent, such exemplary integrity is a rarity." He refrained from appending 'for a commoner,' but the sentiment lingered unspoken.

At that time, the connection from the Dark Net flickered, disconnecting momentarily.

"Damn." Casteel cursed, only to go, "Ahh... there we go." once it returned. Odds were, if it was flickering chances were they just might lose it for good.

 

[Kaleleon]

Blood Upon the Snow​

Objective 3, Defend or Blow up bridges
Location: Bridge Defense
Gear: Shieldbreaker Greatsword, Aranrúth, Ward of Dawn, Narma's Talon, Sentinel Defender Class Jedi Armor
Opponent: Khamul Kryze

Like I had called out on this Mandalorian, I didn't quite recognize the different emblems, or the shape of the armor. Yet, even as he came towards me, snapping the soldier easily through the force. As if this was going to intimate me. All I did was shake my head. I called him doom and gloom for a reason. His question was purely to attempt to get into my head. While it didn't quite feel like Dun moch, as I had been under that effect before, It was still a tactic to make one talk, and strike, or to make them doubt themselves. To question when in conflict on many sides. It seemed almost all blasters that had once been aimed at me, now were aimed elsewhere. Did he call for a one on one with his troops?

"whAt iS IT yOu FiGht Fur!"

I responded heavily back at the Sith Mando who held his saber ignited. Bathing himself in a crimson glow. With the shield alive in one hand, I didn't even activate mine. Still upon my belt. Just walked closer to him. Slowly closing the distance with my right hand flicking in the air. The weapons that lie upon the ground in our area, roughly a dozen weapons all swung from the dead hands, and opened fire on him. While it was very likely not going to do much damage, even a stray bolt can kill the most seasoned of warriors. Hell, Older vets from wars years ago could die just by slipping in the tub.

I knew now the construction of this man's armor, but I knew for sure that it likely had Beskar, A staple of Mandalorian Armors. Likely having various technologies with it as well. Sure, I didn't have beskar, but I knew what it was, and had fought it before. Fighting other Mandalorians before. While they were not force sensitive, I just had to find tactics that worked against both Mandalorians, as well as Force users. Find what worked, and fast.

Right now though, I was playing with my food.

"Don't give me bullchit questions. I want a fight, not a philosophical debate."

 

[Jon Hojkstra]

ONCE LOYAL // Issue 2​

Cinnegar East Bank, Empress Teta
Allies: Thomas Barran Salvor Thul Kroeger
Enemies: Ashley Nevermore Gress D'ran Lycus Merita
INTERACTING: KN-967 TK-818 Drego Ruus

"We're stormtroopers, Jon. The moment we stepped onto the shuttles we were already dead."​

Jon paused in the midst of preparing his makeshift last stand, his gaze distant, lost in a void. Whether it was his commanding officer's words as they stepped out on the cursed world of Ziost for one last time, whether it was a story told to children at night, or even a tale echoing through generations since the dawn of existence itself; its familiarity resonated within him far more profoundly than his own name.

It defined him.

...as it defined her.

"We bring down the tower. Take it out, specifically placed charges get it to fall." Kane continued elaborating her plan, issuing orders to be followed. War and orders. A to B.

Life became simple again. Clear.

"Jon. I need you to go upstairs and place charges on the outermost load bearing columns. I'll try to get the ground floor set up. We may have to use the megablaster to weaken some of the supports."

"Roger." he tossed another belt of ammo over his torso, forming a cross on his blood-stained chest. It should carry him through whatever Alliance soldiers were posted upstairs, but before he could take another step a golden laser lit up the lobby with the distinctive sound of a disruptor. The veteran ducked behind cover before the next shots hit their intended target.

Jon shuffled further ahead behind his makeshift cover, then rose up and unleashed suppressive fire at the Mandalorian. Hired gun or Jedi friend, it did not matter. He'd stepped into the ex-storm commando's death trap; his self-made last stand.

 

[Ardana Vorco]

Warden, Magnarra and Marauder of the Scar Hounds Tribe

Information

Objective: Find her way to Tommy
Location: Secret Prison Facility, Coruscant
Equipment: 2x Geysa Hybrid Pistol | Assault Rifle | Armour and weapon (weapon is lightsaber resistant) || OPBC-01m
Direct tag: Silas Westgard
Tags: Thomas Barran | Open

"Galactic Basic" | ~ Telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

When the weapons touched, the woman also looked at her opponent from under her helmet, although her face was not really visible because of the helmet. It wasn't to say it was the nicest or best helmet the woman had worn, but it had always saved her life so far, and she had made it from various parts back when she was a fresh slave-soldier in Mawite times. Now she wore it only as a tradition rather than replacing it with a better-quality helmet. So far this has only brought the woman luck, as Spindly was still alive. The woman laughed at the young Jedi's words, her voice rather scratchy and almost as if she were pleased.

"Are you threatening to kill me? You know nothing, little boy. After death, Paradise awaits us by the Dark Three. I will take my rightful place at their side. And we earn our place by fighting!" said the woman in religious devotion.

The Magnarra was not afraid to die, she believed she had already sent enough souls to the Avatars to earn her place in the Paradise. The reality never occurred to her for a moment that the dead believers would not even get to Paradise, but that the Avatars would eat their souls later.

However, she was unable to carry out her attack when she tried to hit the Jedi on the head, because her opponent was prepared for it. The telekinetic push sent her sliding backwards for metres, although she was able to keep her balance. Spindly turned almost immediately when the man arrived behind her, after all, the woman was Force-attuned, or Sensitive - at least in the sense that the rest of her race was - though that was only proven in good reflexes. But that on her part was little against a skilled knight. So the Jedi was able to kick the woman in the side, and the movement and momentum actually sent her crashing into the crates. However, none of this stopped the woman from trying to get up almost immediately.

"I'll stop when you're dead!" she told him, in an almost cheerful tone.

She wasn't fully up yet, she was only half-kneeling and raised her staff to aim it at the Jedi Knight. She hoped as they were close it would be difficult for her opponent to dodge. She didn't even wait for the Jedi to react as she pulled the trigger and tried to fire several consecutive shots at the Jedi's chest. While she was doing this, Thomas Barran 's message began to come over the speakers.

 

[Eina L'lerim-Vandiir]

The Light of Ashla , Champion and Avatar of Ashla

Information

Objective: Protect the planet
Location: Ground, Tython
Equipment: Sverð Fyrstr (weapons) | Ljósspjót (spear) | Skrúð Engill Fyrstr (armour) || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Direct tag: Onrai | Closed
Tags: Open

"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Eina saw the swirling eddies around Onrai's presence in the Force. Although she didn't really understand emotions, she was now certain that the other woman was angry. I mean, it hadn't been said, so now she could see in her soul what the other was feeling, and that's not usually a lie. The former Valkyrja just didn't understand why the other was angry. She should have been happy that the other woman was probably imagining the things she was saying and that they were not real. A madman can only be relieved to find out that their fear is not real.

And she kept talking and talking, and Eina became more and more convinced that she was really making these things up. Like when parents make up scary stories to tell their children why they should be afraid of something or why they shouldn't do something. Yes, centuries were never important to Eina, time was relative and for a being like she was, it had no meaning. Eina was never a living being, to her things in Realspace were so strange and unusual, always had been. But she didn't speak now, she just listened to Onrai talk, calmly.

The former Valkyrja didn't get upset, she wasn't angry, she didn't feel anything. Only peace and calm despite the battlefield, and as the other woman spoke, the Light of Ashla became more and more certain that Onrai needed help. It was only when Onrai mentioned the Cardinal that the angel-winged woman's face twitched a little and infinite sorrow appeared in her blue eyes.

"You say that you speak with the knowledge of millions of years, yet you behave like a child who cries and tantrums when they don't get what they want. If you really had that much knowledge, the Galaxy would already know what you are talking about and everyone would be united under your banner. When someone has that much knowledge or that much power... they don't act like you." there was only sorrow and sadness in her voice as she spoke. "Only a madman like you, who has lost their sense of reality and their connection to reality, would talk like that. My mother has the power of an ancient Sith Lord, not a goddess or deity."

Eina's voice was still calm, and so was she. The Avatar of Ashla continued to make no hostile movements, just hovering in place with her spear in hand and the angel wings holding herself in place. At Onrai's words, she shook her head again, still not believing the other woman.

"My offer still stands. I can free you from this madness and delusion, just let me help you." she offered her help again to the other woman.

 

[Ellayina L'lerim]

Torture and Interrogation Officer and Agent

Information

Objective: Help to her fellow ISB companions
Location: Cinnegar, Empress Teta
Equipment: 2x Sunfury Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger || Cloaking Device | 5x ASBF Probe Droid || Empyrean gland || OPBC-01m
Direct Tag: Kazian Blackwood | Closed
Tags: Jon Hojkstra | KN-967 | TK-818 | Thomas Barran | Kroeger | Rath Nihro | Open

"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

"Well, everyone has their own rank and position in the Empire." I shrugged quickly, a little.

It wasn't nearly as big and influential title as the Executor or Shadow Hand or anything; in fact, it was also quite a sounding board, but it was still a rank and I wasn't the only interrogating officer in the Empire. Of course, I had ambitions to one day have some unique rank that was just mine and no one else had it, but that took time and action. I was still young, but I did my best to stand out and prove I was the best. But all agents probably have similar ambitions, don't they? And most people, except my sister.

From the way he described his work, I knew what kind of work he did. In fact, I had always wanted to do a similar job, but then they discovered my hidden abilities, I mean the Force and my mental abilities in the Force; so I became the agent I was now. It's funny, because my sister was bad at it, she had mostly healing abilities. It was a case of who's got what. But the man and his team certainly did a good job. I nodded in his direction, appreciatively, although I wasn't sure if the helmet made it obvious, so I said it more verbally.

"Here we are, yes; you did a good job." I told him.

While we were talking, we arrived at the lift, which the man called for us. When we got in and started up there were no problems, however, as we started to ascend and reached the top floor, so did the scanners in the adjacent building, which were showing signs of life. I couldn't tell from the sensor or scanner if they were friends or enemies, but I didn't really think friends were in the buildings. So I thought it was appropriate to treat them as enemies rather than friends.

"At the upstairs, where we're headed... or rather, in the other building on the other side of the passageway, my armour sensors detect six living creatures. I don't know if they're friends or foes, but I like to prepare for the worst." I told him.

Once the lift stopped and we could get out, the corridor where we arrived was empty. The windows were smashed and there was some debris, as an upper or lower floor could have been hit by a missile or a major attack. But there was no blood or bodies here. The passageway was about twenty metres from here, around a corner. The passageway itself was made of transparent glasteel, at least the side walls and the upper part, and the lower part of metal. The clear glass-steel burst in most places, with cables hanging and sparking, but the passage held. Like our side, the other side had a double metal door and it was closed…

"The life signs are behind the door. Shall we go?" I asked him.

If the answer was yes, I took my other pistol in my hand and moved forward carefully so as not to tear up the flooring beneath me.

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Matriarch of the Scar Hounds Tribe

Information

Objective: To try to hunt down Solipsis
Location: Ground, Tython
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Assault Rifle | 2x Sunfury Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger | 2x Riftblades | Promise of Freedom | Ring of Wishes and Dreams || Cloaking Device | 5x ASBF Probe Droid || OPBC-01m
Tags: N/A

"Galactic Basic" | ~ Telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
Keilara Kala'myr | Mercy | Ziare Dyarron | Freedom​

In the end, this plan did not work out as well as I would have liked; MANIAC indicated that I would not be able to get to the central ruins from where I was. At least in the area that the AI had coverage for, because the fighting was too fierce. So for the moment there was little I could do but send out my miniaturised spy droids, which were also good for reconnaissance, to take 360 degree angle shots of the battlefield so that from the data thus recorded, I or MANIAC could find points of easier passage. The AI will probably do these calculations because it worked much faster than I did.

And here, time was of the essence. It's not that I didn't trust my own abilities, as I've had quite a bit of training in this area, including from Asher, but really here the battle changed in a matter of moments. If I'd had to engage the enemy from the flank with a larger number of troops, I could have done it from here. But that was not the case; now I had to navigate my own way across the battlefield. And I could not move and count them out in a tenth of a second. No, unfortunately I needed the droids and MANIAC to guide me. It was much faster that way.

Fortunately, the droids moved, I mean flew quickly despite their small size, and soon the data from them arrived, which MANIAC started to process. Even I was right that there was no way I could get through this part of the battlefield where I was, but perhaps the other side of the battlefield was a possibility. There seemed to be fewer people fighting there, based on the data. I sighed; of course it was the opposite side of the battlefield, why would I be lucky to be here, close to it. Running in full military gear was not that strenuous. I trained on Mar'Zambul, which had a much higher gravity than Tython.

So I came down from the high ground where I'd been, and then I started running in a semicircle away from the battlefield under the cloaking device. I knew that if I ran fast I might be visible for a few moments, but I hoped that everyone would be busy fighting so I wouldn't attract attention. Still, I tried to use the debris, trees, bushes, various rocks, vehicles and landmarks to make it harder to be seen. To be on the safe side, one of the droids continued to watch the battle between Solipsis and the two Nobles, so that I would always know if there was a change there. If the two Nobles killed Solipsis, I would be very angry and very grumpy!

However, in the rush I did not get any change of the fight, and I soon arrived behind two large boulders or ruins, from which I could again see the fighting trio, and from here I could get to them most easily. Here again I was separated by at least two hundred metres from where they were. True, I could see immediately that there were sometimes much wider gaps between the fighting here than where I was originally. Here I might actually have a chance to get there.

I'll find out in no time…

 

[Onrai]

Objective: To fulfill her own agenda (Objective 3)
Location: Above Ground, Tython
Equipment: ???
Direct Tag: Eina L'lerim-Vandiir | Closed
Tags: Raphael Gallustrade

Looking into the eyes of the Valkyrja, Onrai could see it. There, beyond the physical manifestation of her form, beyond the power, was doubt. She had seen it in the eyes of the cardinal, and it had admittedly appealed to the vestige of her base mortal instincts to see that such a comment had impacted the woman who tried her damnedest to remain so ethereally stoic. A revelation had been made to her, and like the one she had cleaved to, she would deny it.

"I mourn for your ignorance, Eina. Your mother had more understanding of the truth than you do. Perhaps it is because she has actually experienced the mortal world instead of being forged into the unliving weapon of a false liege. Ashla is no god - perhaps a Celestial has lied to you, to encourage worship of them as if they were the Father. Such silly nonsense - it wouldn't be the first time an "Ashla" abandons their faithful in the hour of need. As is, if you believe the galaxy would come together and stand against a threat such as what the Father of Shadows threatens, I have a moon to sell you."

In response to her claims of knowing what her mother's power was, Onrai laughed. "The Architects are no deities, but that's no Sith Lord whose power your mother wields. Take it from the one who was there, and who tried to prevent such malevolent power from mingling with her. Thargorograht is half the reason you exist as an ethereal, unliving, unfeeling being."

Once more, Eina rejected the opportunity to so much as witness the Infernal Gate, to see that there was indeed more than enough evidence to suggest that her claims meant something. There was no madness, no delusion - and the only help Onrai needed was to fight back against that which sought to pervert the very texture of reality. Help that Eina had chosen not to offer.

"I suppose I'll just head into the temple and find answers there."

With that, Onrai's form landed and began walking up the steps of the temple of Kaleth. If this was going to break out into violence, she intended to be the second one to strike.

 

[Raphael Gallustrade]

Raphael listened, frustrated, as they seemed to almost be debating philosophy, or...deities? It was uclear, but he was feeling the world strain underneath the powers that were threatenig either to consume the planet or were trying to defend it. The conversation seemed to end as swiftly as it had begun, as Onrai, her darker form floating down andn walking the steps into the Temple. The voices were there. That was what was calling to him.

He hoped that whatever was there wasn't what was calling Onrai, as well.

He glanced up at the woman with the wings, and shrugged, starting up the steps. There was much that didn't make sense. This was a place of learning, of understanding. Now there was a war. Somewhere in here was another font of a nexus... He was calleld here...but why, he didn't know.

He followed behind Onrai, at a slight distance, only hoping that the winged woman followed them... Though he was much stronger he didn't want to get caught up in some huge battle in the midst of this temple... It would soon torn apart, anyways...

Though he'd not seen this form of her, it did not surprise him that she was something not entirely human. That was... basically all that he ran into these days... He'd find what called to him, and figure out what it needed.

Eina L'lerim-Vandiir Onrai

 

[Darth Apophion]

​

OBJECTIVE 3: Clash at Kaleth
Allies: Dark Empire
Enemies: Galactic Alliance, Mya Windu

As the whisper through the Force reached him, a faint echo amidst the din of their duel, Darth Apophion was well aware of the psychological warfare at play. Jedi Master Mya's approach, her feint to the right, was a maneuver he recognized as a ploy to draw him out, to bait him into revealing his intentions. Yet, Apophion, steeped in the art of Makashi and the subtleties of combat, was not so easily misled.

Her subsequent leap over his strike, an attempt to deliver a counter slash with the forceful precision of Djem So, was anticipated. Apophion, utilizing the agility and control central to Makashi, adjusted his stance at the last moment. This adjustment was minimal, yet crucial—a slight pivot that altered the trajectory of his saber arm, turning what would have been a direct hit into a near miss that grazed his armor instead. Sparks flew not from contact with his flesh but from his blade scraping against the ground as he maneuvered to mitigate the impact of her attack.

As Mya landed and their blades met with a loud crash, Apophion felt the push of her Soresu stance. It was a testament to her resilience, her ability to adopt a defensive posture that could weather his onslaught. Yet, as she called upon the Force to shove him backward, he recognized this opportunity. Instead of resisting the force of her push, he used it to his advantage, allowing it to increase the distance between them momentarily, giving him a brief respite to reassess and plan his next move.

Her slashes, aimed at his neck and then his legs, were met with a series of parries. As she backed off, pacing him and gauging his movements, Apophion observed her. He noted the pain that fueled her, the determination in her gaze. It was in this moment, as she leaped onto the table and launched herself towards him with a flurry of kicks and slashes, that Apophion prepared to turn the tide once more.

Utilizing his deep connection to the Force, Apophion enhanced his reflexes, allowing him to dodge and weave through her bicycle kicks with a grace that belied his focus. When she split the command table in two, aiming to use the pieces as weapons against him, he was ready. With a surge of the Force, he not only stabilized himself against the potential impact but also used the Force to manipulate the trajectory of the debris, ensuring that it would not find its mark.

In the final moments of her assault, as she attempted to sandwich him between the pieces of the split architecture, Apophion called upon the Force with a counter of his own. At the perfect moment, he sent a shockwave, redirecting the debris away from him and potentially back toward her, creating a split second of surprise and imbalance in her otherwise flawless technique.

Adopting a stance that signaled a departure from the precise elegance of Makashi, Darth Apophion readied himself for a more ferocious approach. The air around him crackled with dark energy as he prepared to merge the unrestrained ferocity of Juyo, the seventh form of lightsaber combat known for its aggressive and unpredictable attacks, with the martial prowess of Teräs Käsi, a fighting technique that allowed practitioners to channel the Force into their physical strikes for devastating effect.

He launched forward, his body a blur propelled by Force-enhanced speed. The first wave of his assault was a barrage of Juyo-inspired lightsaber strikes, each one more aggressive and unpredictable than the last. His saber moved in rapid, vicious arcs, designed not to probe or feint but to batter and breach. The strikes were varied—overhead chops followed by low sweeps, diagonal slashes that morphed into thrusts—each executed with a speed and ferocity that sought to leave Mya no quarter for a counterattack.

But Apophion's strategy was more nuanced than sheer aggression. Interspersed with his lightsaber onslaught were the hand-to-hand combat techniques of Teräs Käsi. At moments where the saber duel drew them close, he employed Force-enhanced punches and kicks aimed at Mya's body—strikes intended to exploit any lapse in her concentration, to disrupt her stance and rhythm. Teräs Käsi allowed him to use the Force to anticipate and counter her moves, turning her own momentum against her and seeking to exploit the brief moments of vulnerability such aggressive combat could create.

Suddenly he thrust forward with his lightsaber, only to switch momentum mid-attack, dropping the weapon to his off-hand while launching a Force-enhanced strike with his dominant hand, aiming directly at her face. This punch, powered by the dark side and the mastery of Teräs Käsi, was intended to stun or momentarily incapacitate her, creating an opening for a finishing blow.

Apophion knew his opponent would dodge or evade the attack. Which was why his offhand suddenly thrust forward with a lightsaber aimed at her waist just as she finished evading the punch.

 

[Auteme]

Aerarii Tithe ​

One of the strands of Force whipped from her arm after Tithe, but was just a split second too late. Her reaction had been from spotting the crane swinging in from the corner of her eye. Not from Tithe himself -- for whatever reason she couldn't get a read on him. Every time she even skimmed his presence, it felt like he was sitting in some boardroom somewhere yapping to other people who hadn't worked a day in their lives. Nothing but credits on his mind- no, it was deliberate. He felt the same as he had when they'd been sitting on the bridge.

Then the other cranes swung in to grab her. She leapt out of the way of the first, rolled from the second, but the third snapped her off the catwalk, the fourth swinging in to assist. Her armoured shell hardened to stop her from being crushed, and she took a massive breath in, expanding the threads until she was stuck in the middle of a massive balloon.

The mechanical claws impacted all around her, only to find the threads soften -- and become sticky, fastening them all together. The ball of Force-mush spat her back out onto the catwalk; she landed, then began to pull the threads tighter, binding the cranes all together so they couldn't escape.

She spun, then launched a thread up, latching onto the other catwalk to pull herself up in pursuit of Tithe. "Get back here!"

At least there was a break in the monologuing.