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"Brace for Impact!" The tranquility on the bridge shattered when a piercing shout of alarm erupted from one of the senior flag officers. In an instant, the early warning lights blazed to life, illuminating the imminent danger.
The visual scanners captured a relentless barrage of heavy turbolaser fire (Reiner Ghadi
) descending upon the 175th Naval Task Force from nearby the Ashla Asteroid Field. The impact devastating as searing plasma slammed into several vessels protecting the main battlecruisers, leaving little room for respite.
"We've been caught with our trousers down, ladies and gentlemen! Full Damage Report, Lieutenant Maran." The Vice-Admiral was taken aback by the sight on the tactical screens aboard the ANS Whirlwind, showing the widespread but overall limited damage across the fleet. However, the tactical screens could only display data and practical analysis, lacking the visceral impact of seeing the destruction firsthand. The communications officers were hard at working establishing updates with the fleet commanders, until the full damage report finally came in on the proper monitors.
"The Fleet Commanders have checked in, we've sustained minor damage to our frigate protection line, Vice Admiral. However, we regret to inform that the twoDP40-Heavy Gunship's, the ANS George and ANS Gnarlhave been completely eliminated by the sudden barrage." Lieutenant Maran approached from the communication station with a mix of determination and sorrow in her eyes, a true reflection of a young officer in the Alliance Navy. She passed the data pad over for the Senior Command Staff to review on the holographic table, showcasing two green triangles disappearing from the fleet display on screen.
It was a devastating blow to lose not one, but two ships in battle, especially when they were under his own command. Failing to anticipate the hidden forces of the Imperial Remnants lurking beneath the Alliance Defensive Line was a costly mistake.
There was a small window of time to reflect on his tactical errors and improve on them during the engagement otherwise there would not be much of a fleet left to command, although despite this horrible setback, it only fueled his determination to win the battle using more unorthodox tactics instead of standard naval tactics.
His hand gently grazed the majestic white beard that adorned his face, while his mind raced with countless scenarios, each one presenting its own set of risks and rewards. "EVASIVE ACTION!" As the tactical screen lit up, Ideon couldn't help but shout in excitement.
The display revealed a series of salvos fired by the mighty imperial fleet, their powerful orbital autocannons and heavy ordinance crashing into the task force. Despite their efforts to reposition and retaliate, the task force was still under immense pressure. Amidst the chaos, faint traces of starfighter activity were detected amidst the asteroid field.
Clutching the seat with one hand, as the full impact of the salvo's subsided and the damage once again reported. If they did not respond soon, they would be overpowered quite considerably despite having the superior number advantage. "Unload all fighters from our hanger bays and redirect all bomber squadrons to coordinates NS-3667 and NH-45550 near the Asteroid Field. Unload proton torpedo's at the nearest asteroids, destroying them will create more debris for their pilots to fly into as they approach our flanks." came the assertive voice of the Vice Admiral as the order was relayed to the rest of the fleet, down the chain of command.
Large squadrons of E-Wing Multi-Role Starfighter's andF-29 Fortress Bomber's surged from the hanger bays of the battlecruisers and starfighter cruisers. They rushed towards the debris field in advance of the 175th Task Force, attempting to unload their rounds of torpedo's into the chunks of asteroids to create obstacles. The fleet would reposition itself towards the asteroid field, allowing them the opportunity to respond back to the imperial bombardments.
"Commence Attack Run, on the Asteroid Field. Full Tactical Bombardment of our heavy ordinance weaponry, aim for larger asteroids to create room for our battlecruisers to maneuver into the field." The tranquility of space shattered as a barrage of powerful weapons, including missiles, turbolaser batteries, and flak cannons, unleashed their fury upon the imperial armada of Ignacious Korvan
.
Alliance Task Force maneuvered towards the Asteroid Field
Sent E-Wing Multi-Role Starfighters and F-29 Fortress Bombers to make an attack run on the asteroid field.
Violet blades and crimson light hummed with anticipation, a sudden crescendo that marked the transition from banter to battle. With a swift dash, the Sword of the Jedi closed the distance between herself and the Dark Lord. With a fierce determination born of years of training, from an ancient era long past of never ending war, she charged forward like a force of nature, her every movement calculated and precise. As the shadows rushed in on the Shield, who had readied an attack of his own and dismissed the powerful torrent of shadows with but a flicker of his Zambrano strength - a wave of his hand, Valery would ready herself to strike. Blade at the ready.
But the attack would never come.
As her lightsaber arced through the air towards the Sith'ari, his own prepared and ready to meet her blade, he would find himself thrown off balance as Valery shifted in the Force. With a fluid grace that belied her strength, she phased through him, becoming incorporeal for the briefest of moments. With a roar of frustration, he stumbled forward, caught off guard by her unexpected maneuver. But even as he struggled to regain his footing, his tuned senses peaked, the empyrean guiding his movements with preternatural guile. As Valery corrected her body and adjusted to throw her lightsaber arc through the air towards the Emperor from behind, the Dark Lord's instincts surged with predatory agility. Sensing the imminent danger, Solipsis pivoted with uncanny speed, his body moving in a fluid motion. But instead of evading the strike, he found his legs and torso seized by the arrival of an abominable force.
"Insect."
A unholy union of Sith and Jedi techniques.
With a sinister twist of his wrist, he reached swiftly with a lightning-quick grip. Like a vice, iron-strong and unyielding, the Emperor caught the blade with his bare hand, halting Valery's momentum abruptly. The Sith'ari leaned in close, his voice a low growl.
"You underestimate me, Jedi," he hissed.
With a savage jerk of his hand, the Dark Lord attempted to hurl Valery aside, a move made in hopes of sending her crashing to the ground. With the danger past, the Sith Lord turned his attention back to the chains that bound him. With a snarl of frustration, he strained against the invisible bonds, his muscles tensing with effort as he sought to break free from their grasp as the light seared into his form. He focused letting the shadows and tendrils of darkness made manifest wrap around him, an oubliette that peeled away the layers like an onion.
"You speak of empires as if they held weight to one such as I. Your kin were nothing but a pitiful shadow, crushed beneath the might of the New Sith Order."
The Sith Master outstretched his hand, pulling on the empyrean to try and bring Kahlil closer. He wanted both of his opponents close.
The whistling birds found their target, though were stopped in their tracks as the Jedi produced yet another shield from his gauntlet. Slag and shrapnel dispersed around him, and all Khamul could do was grit his teeth. This Jedi had more tricks up his sleeve than the others Khamul had killed in the past, that much was certain. All the more reason to put him down quickly.
Mandalore's Lament crashed against the shield, holding its own against the black and crimson blade. As the Jedi spoke, Khamul could do little more than scoff.
"There is no greater test than battle, Jedi."
As the words left his mouth, the force push hit the Unchained square in the chest, sending him back several feet. Khamul caught his fall, landing on the bridge as his knee dragged across the duracrete beneath him. Without leaving any time for his opponent to recover, the Unchained ignited his jetpack, launching himself forward with incredible speed. His free hand reached out, his fingertips beginning to produce crimson sparks as red force lightning shot forth, aimed directly at Kale. The red of the Sarrassian Iron embedded within his mask came to life, glowing with a vicious red, allowing him to channel all of his hatred into the crimson storm flowing from his fingers.
Once the gap was closed, Khamul would strike once again for Kale's body, though this time, should he block with the shield, Mandalore's Lament would quickly disengage, allowing the Unchained to bypass the shield. Though unsure of the material his opponent's armor was made of, there would at least be a chance for him to breach the defenses of this stubborn prey.
Combat is a blur. It begins and ends in the blink of an eye. Decisions are made that the mind barely even registers. A million tiny decisions, all infinitesimally small that one might have considered them to be meaningless. And yet, as they accumulated, it was those decisions, made without even realizing, that determined whether a solider lived or died. In the live fire exercises the Stormtroopers had been forced to participate in, they were not always against droids or holograms. Sometimes they were pitted against each other like gladiators so that only the strong survived.
But it was not the strong who survived. It was the lucky. The monstrous. The ones who could prey on the morality and hesitations of their fellows. It was ones like her who put duty over everything else.
The handaxe was a simple dodge. Plenty of time at the range he threw it, an easy shift of the hips and lean to have it pass in front of her. The blaster he carried sent bolts in her direction, she caught a few in the arms, one in the shoulder just above the collar bone. The smell of burnt flesh filled her nostrils, like so many times before. Too much adrenaline in her blood to feel pain, but her body reacted all the same, tensing, stumbling, being pushed to her backfoot. With a grunt, she advanced, finger hard on the trigger, mag dumping her blaster rifle with a grin on her face. Above them, the Mandalorian’s ship did some of the hard work for them, chewing away at supports and load-bearing structures.
She was close enough now. The Mandalorian rushed her at speed, he was quick. Faster than most, closing in on her at a rapid pace.
Her thoughts were simple. She did not have time to speak them aloud. She needed her last breath to do what must be done. Should have aimed for the head, kid. Best of luck Jon. Semper Serve.
A cryobeam caught her in the leg, forcing her down to one knee as the freezing cold gritted her teeth, turning flesh beneath the white armor into bloody ice. Kane was lucky to be wearing the helmet, or the Mandalorian might have seen her smile.
‘Front Towards Enemy’
The blast triggered on her chest, sending out a fireball. The backblast pulped her lungs and heart into jelly, the concussive force even from the wrong side of the shaped charge more than enough to put down the stormtrooper for good.
Cinnegar East Bank, Empress Teta Allies: KN-967 Enemies: Drego Ruus
"Sunuva..." Jon cursed as the Mandalorian carried through the hail of blaster bolts unfazed towards Kane. The rifle's trigger clicked and froze, its gas canister emptied or jammed. The veteran could not afford to figure it out as the Mandalorian closed in on the Corporal. Jon tossed the gun aside and rushed against time to intercept him. He had vowed to protect Kane and her unit from total destruction, to spare them the fate he had endured as a sole survivor of his unit during the Battle of Ziost.
But Kane made her choice before he did.
The vow broke, shattered by the Corporal's choice; a blinding blast engulfed him and sent him flying back, tumbling hard on the ground like a ragged doll. Bloodied, battered and scarred, the former stormtrooper lied on the cold floor, struggling to breath through broken bones and bleeding flesh.
Time, ever ruthless, did not stand still. No respite, no closure, no offer to mourn his fallen comrades, nor his own failure.
...we were already dead...
The words rang through his mind, their voice could've been anyone -- Captain Tanau's, Kane's, Kroeger's.
The muffled sounds of explosions, merely a backdrop to the voice that echoed in his skull, heralded the collapse of the skyscraper. Its massive structure, looming above the Cinnagar's cityscape, whined like a dying animal. It's screech reverberating across the capital before the tower leaned forward and collapsed through streets, alleys, buildings and finally the shield generator itself.
Sacrifice, duty, brotherhood, cause... all turned to dust.
The world came crashing down on Jon Hojkstra.
..
A soft wind picked up in the aftermath, cradling the dust away.
Aris’s offer to drive during their getaway was not the best idea. Zaiya didn’t dare take her eyes off the front of the speeder for fear of missing something and crashing.
“No… I .. I just need to know where to go. Can’t stop here. “ she shook her head quickly right to left, hair tickling her cheeks. He couldn’t hear her, but he could still see her say no. She still was breathing hard, purely driven by adrenaline and the thought of getting Aris and Braze to safety.
“Braze a-are you okay?” She stammered, aware he had been hurt badly but unsure by how much.
Already as they sped off, she could see and hear the sounds of distant battles, blaster fire, and a few plumes of dark smoke rising. Tython was under attack.
Would… would they start orbital bombarding like when my…
Zaiya blanched again, fear truly rushing through her. Her hands flexed on the wheel before gripping again.
It was a few minutes before the roaring sound of a starship drawing near again sent Zaiya into a panic, and she cried out, “Who is that?!”
However things became complicated when the ships loading ramp fell open, the ship matching their speed, and the droid instructed them to jump inside??
Utter bafflement flooded Zaiya’s expression.
“ I can’t— how… but I’m driving!!” She stammered out. Wouldn’t it be better to stop? This was way out of Zaiya’s league, but Pyf was right. For up ahead was another fight ensuing and more ships could be seen in the skies in the distance. They had little time to waste.
Her jaw clenched, and her lips thinned. Knowing Aris was still deafened, Zaiya quickly drew her hand from the wheel and gestured from Braze to the ramp. He’d see her turn to him, her lips forming the word, “Jump!”
Again, a blast from the songsteel broadsword, this time as electricty, washed over the Ren with little effect. It was clear why. The dark rage that fueled the Darksider was palpable through the Force, his fury bent on the sole intent of unleashing upon Jonyna as the two crashed together. Wind and rain and the thunder-like echoes of their clashing weapons reverberated in the air. A moment later, Taam was there as well.
The burly Cathar brought the long, broad blade of the Sword of Light in a mighty swing at the Master of Ren, whose was occupied with the grip on his snarling saber as it held back Jonyna's sword. Taam's momentum, his powerful frame, the might of the Force that course through his every fiber and every grain of the Kta Dom Lya should have driven the great weapon to cleave through the orbalisk carapace.
But before that razor-edged blade could meet his armor, the Ren's saber hand flew about, bringing the angry plasma blade crashing against Taam's sword with such force that it stayed the blow. Taam saw it through the Force, a breath before it happend. He thought they had their enemy now, for how could the Darksider block Jonyna's blade and his as well. What the Force didn't reveal was that the Denik knight's katana remained at bay, held off by the Ren in an impressive exertion of the Force.
The Jedi had the Master of Ren against a rock, trying to hold off two lethal strikes, a momentary stalemate emerged. But Jonyna and that blessed prehensile tail, nudged the scales to their side when her lightsaber suddenly ignited and drove into their foe's foot. So close now to the dread Ren, Taam could see the pain refined into even more rage in the pale yellow gaze of his enemy.
Holding agianst the Ren's saber, Taam added a measure of the Force to help push it back and freed one hand from his sword's hilt. Simultaneously, the wooden-handled lightsaber at his side flew to his grip and ignited. With a strong thrust, the green blade was driven against the orbalisks covering the Ren's body.
The Shopping District Empress Teta - Cinnagar Underground bunker
Interacting with: Makai Dashiell
"Well, I could pretend to apologize for being a thorn in your side, but it seems you're stuck with me," Casteel retorted, though his words were tinged with humor rather than his usual brashness.
"And indeed, I do wish I had gathered the information sooner to share with Danger and Judah about our troublesome acquaintance," he added, referring to Blythe. The satisfaction of the chav having to relive his teenage years brought a mischievous smirk to Casteel's lips.
"Nice touch with the virus, by the way. Efficient and tidy. It certainly drives home the consequences of his actions," Casteel remarked, his demeanor becoming increasingly casual as their conversation progressed, even with the ongoing fight above them. "Although not as immediately satisfying as that punch to the face."
It took Casteel and Makai four days to leave the bunker. Despite the intermittent Darknet connection, they managed to identify the faction responsible for attacking Empress Teta: the imperialistic Sith remnants from the Maw, known as The Dark Empire.
The impact of these events on Empress Teta and the outcome of the battle remained uncertain. However, spending four days together, as frustrating as it was, allowed both men to learn more about each other than a simple dinner ever could.
While it didn't immediately lead to a close friendship, there was now a level of respect and understanding between them.
And as for Makai, well, Casteel could now view him as slightly less of an outer rim nuisance. He just needed some refinement.
A small blastdoor in one of Alliance One’s escape pod chambers dilated. Second later, a lavishly dressed man with greying hair shot out through the opening and was thrown across the room into the opposite bulkhead.
Tithe groaned as he rolled over. He had continued to gain speed as he slid headfirst down the maintenance droid transport chute, and while he was moments from freedom, he could do without the extra injuries. He grabbed onto a railing and heaved himself to his feet as Auteme exited the same chute and landed gracefully on her feed.
He stood with his back to the wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see an escape pod a few short steps away. A few bounding steps, and he would be safely away from Alliance One. But what chance did elderly Aargauun have against an experienced Jedi Knight in one-on-one combat?
Not a chance in Chaos.
Luckily for Tithe, he had no intention of fighting. Words were his weapons.
“Sith. Imperials. Democracies - such trifling ideologies hold little sway over my affections, my dear,” Tithe replied. “Surely, you're well aware by now that my allegiance lies with but one noble cause.”
Capital gains. Indexed funds. Rancor markets. Tithe tried to push his plans for escape out of his mind and focus on credits. If he could cause Auteme to hesitate for just a second, he might stand a chance.
“The ethereal notions of peace and justice you valiantly champion are but ephemeral echoes, akin to the delusional ambitions of Solipsis and Fel. Their fleeting reigns, much like the passing whims of the Alliance, are mere ripples in the vast cosmic ocean of time. Yet amidst the celestial tapestry, where the pendulum swings between darkness and light, there is one immutable truth that shines bright and eternal: the allure of credits.”
Tithe sidestepped toward the escape pod, halting the distance between him and the escape vehicle.
“Credits, my dear, will forever hold sway over the celestial tides, indifferent to the tumultuous battles that rage across the stars. It matters not which faction emerges victorious in this grand saga, for ultimately, their destinies are tethered to the whims of the market. Whether one ascends to the highest throne or presides over grand governments, they remain ever beholden to the influence of bankers and industrialists. The Force, for all its mystique, pales in comparison to the true force that reigns supreme in the galaxy: greed.”
With his monologue concluded Tithe dove for the escape pod.
Dozens of footsteps echoed down the hallway, signalling that the squad of saboteurs had run out of time. Without speaking, five of the Storm Rangers moved out the blastdoor into the hallway to establish a base of fire. The remaining trooper remained behind, inserting various data probes into control consoles.
The Storm Rangers dragged loose furniture into the hallway to improvise cover. Blaster bolts impacted against the bulkheads around them as the Alliance defenders rounded the corner and opened fire on the Dark Empire soldiers. The green-armoured commandos returned fire with their blaster carbines, burning through power packs. The Storm Rangers had signed onto the mission, knowing they may not come home alive. Right now, their only focus was buying time.
The commando inside the control room inserted the last data probe. Having already uploaded a shield frequency profile, the Storm Ranger took control of Alliance One’s forward proton torpedo battery. While the executive cruiser had limited weapons, proton torpedos programmed with a shield frequency profile could bypass the shields of an enemy vessel and inflict maximum damage.
On direct orders from Darth Solipsis
, the Storm Ranger locked the proton torpedo battery onto the INV Tiberius, personnel battlecruiser of Ignacious Korvan
, and fired a full salvo at the bridge of the Imperial flagship.
She had seen the rise and fall of Empires and Democracies, it was the way of things; the nature of the Galaxy to ebb and flow, and the events that were already beginning to unfold above Tython were merely a reinforcement of that. She could not claim that the Galactic Alliance would come out on top, that the Democracy wouldn't find itself shattered and broken, or that it would stand tall and remain a shining city upon the hill. Just as she could not claim that this new iteration of the Dark Side manifest would stretch across the galaxy or fizzle out here and now as nothing more than a flash in the pan. It was these moments for future historians to muse upon and attempt to claim that there was some sign, or series of events that had shown in the opening moments the very outcome of the Conflicts that were to be birthed into the Galaxy. Rather, what she could do, what she would do, was her duty in service to others and that would not change.
Time, time was often the greatest teacher and it had taught her many things over the centuries of her extended life. The most important lesson that she had learned, that she still at times struggled to contain and maintain, was that of patience. Just as there was a moment in which striking fast and hard against an opponent was required, in all situations, patience was the key. She could not begrudge the Vice Admiral for wanting to engage the enemy, nor did she feel the need to chide or discipline the man for taking the moment to seize an initiative to strike against what was very likely a resurgent Empire. Likewise, it was only natural that the two fleets would stare down one another and await for the other to make the first move; it was the arrival of another formation that had seemingly forced the other hand to be played. It was that simple fact that brought a soft smirk to her lips as she watched the Alliance Vanguard of the 175th Chandrila Naval Task Force push forward to engage the main Imperial Fleet.
"Ma'am."
The voice pierced the buzzing noise that was the hive of activity that the bridge had become. The woman's attention was pulled from the large viewscreen before her as she looked to the aide that stood to her side, a datapad in hand that was placed within her own. A simple nod was all that was required to dismiss the aide as she pulled her attention to the information that was now presented. A soft smile tugged at the edges of her lips as she noticed the scene that was unfolding and the disaster that could develop and fall upon the Alliance Vanguard. Not only that, they now had to deal with those that had come bearing a branch of peace only to fire upon the Alliance; it had become tiresome dealing or hearing about those voices within the Alliance that continued to dissent about its direction, the many voices within the Federal Assembly that seemed to drown out reason in favor of secession and crisis.
There were moments when her mind would drift and thoughts of a new Government slipped in; though she understood that it was unlikely that a Jedi Theocracy would come to fruition, the thought remained. Pushing it from the forefront of her mind, she focused on the moment and the situation that continued to unfold. Begrudgingly, respect grew for the resurgent enemy that they had quickly seen and were already moving to capitalize upon the opening that was developing, however, she wasn't about to permit it to unfold without any attempt to correct the situation.
"Open a channel to the Vice Admiral."
The woman's voice was short and sharp, no need to expound upon and waste words needlessly when fewer could speak the volumes that were required. As another aide made their way past, the woman simply held the datapad out and felt the weight relieved from her hand as the device was taken away. Her arms slipped behind her back once more as she clasped her arms together, and for a moment she looked over her shoulder until she was given the confirmation.
"Vice Admiral Ideon, maintain your course and focus on the main Imperial Formation. The enemy is going to attempt to utilize your momentum to cut your Vanguard Force off from the main Battlegroup. Additional forces will be deployed to maintain a defensive line between the Chandrila Naval Task Force and Battlegroup Mothma. I'll see to the Aphran Fleet myself."
What was to unfold was not something that she was going to take lightly, nor was she going to particularly enjoy. She hadn't known much when it came to Senator Ghadi, however, they had made their decision, and now, they had to deal with the consequences that would be visited upon them. A heavy sigh slipped from her lips as she rolled her shoulders, straightening herself out and slowly rolling her shoulders forward and then back as though she were limbering herself up and preparing to take the first swing. Golden-yellow hues fell upon the vastness that lay before her, watching the intricate dance that the two fleets were now engaged in.
"Deploy Theselon Squadron forward, maintain a link between Battlegroup Mothma and the 175th Naval Task Force, hold the line, and don't let Vice Admiral Ideon be overwhelmed."
Her voice pierced the noise of the bridge as the command was given, nearly barked out as she seemed to take a step to her right before settling in place once more. Her attention remained focused on the enemy, her mind closing itself to all other distractions of memories or emotions as she felt the adrenaline and excitement that came with conflict beginning to wash over her; it was like an old comfort blanket that a child would drape themselves in when facing a thunderstorm. The desire, the need for conflict began to boil up from the depths, threatening to take hold and it was all she could do to keep the monster at bay as she focused her mind. Clemency and Compassion the Diathim on her shoulder whispered into her ear; Death and Destruction the Maelibus on her shoulder shouted in the other.
She did not want to strike with a heavy hand, however, she also could not let the actions of the Aphran Senator go unpunished and merely overlooked. Her own decision was forced the moment the individual had made their own and now she would be forced to respond in kind to the unannounced strike that had been levied against them.
"Star Shield Strike Group and Obsidian Skirmish Line, redeploy and engage the Aphran Defense Fleet. Focus your fire on their engines and weapon systems to disable the vessels. I want their lead vessel and the former Senator captured if possible."
The woman would carefully walk the line between the Diathim and Maelibus that sat upon her shoulders, neither leaning one way nor the other, merely permitting the dice to fall where they may too dictate the outcome of the day. And, despite her misgivings, she wasn't about to cheat the Federal Assembly out of activity or the chance to talk in circles when it came to what should happen to the Senator from Aphran. It was time for their maneuvering, and she was more than willing to trust in the Vice Admiral's abilities to maintain a clear and level head when engaging the enemy as she brought her arms forward, crossing them over her chest, the woman swaying for a moment as she felt an errant Turbolaser Bolt strike against the shields of the Flagship.
"All Starfighter formations maintain your original dispositions and orders. Vanguard Division and Citadel Division will move forward. Ascendancy Squadron will redeploy above the remnants of Ashla; get above the debris field and rain fire from above. All Support Craft Squadrons, take this moment to deploy and begin your run towards the planet, if you're unable to return to your home vessel, jump away from Tython the moment you clear orbit."
Amelia kept her attention forward, watching and waiting patiently as the vast ocean of vessels shifted and moved, each Captain and Sub-Commander carrying out the orders that had been disseminated among the Battlegroup. She was more than willing to utilize her vessels as the shield for civilians, and that moment was likely to come soon. Even if they held onto Tython, they could always bring the people back to the planet; however, if they took no action, she risked losing those people and that was not a risk she was willing to take.
Oh I could just feel it. While I may have cursed the idea of being demoted to a Padawan at first, it has given me time and opportunity to hone the skills I have had previously. Even as a Knight, I was not prepared for my previous fights. I had lost to The Mongrel, Losing to another knight who wiped the floor with me. I was not ready to be a Knight in terms of skill. Sure mentality, but not skill. The time the New Jedi Order had given me to continue training on any skills I had not been so great at, produced much better results. Namely, sensing the force so much more easily.
The Mandalorian was angry. Such vitriol that poured from the man's essence. Even before the attack of lighting was being launched at me. I could feel his anger grow much akin to my own self "powering up" to use the force. The Red Lightning arced towards me. Once more, the smile lighting up upon my face as my shield would glow. The slight blue hue would just quite literally, Absorb the energy being thrown at me. Xythan Shielding systems housed within the shield saved my ass. Yet, the closing of distance was worryingly fast. Aided by a jetpack. The saber came for me again. Same strike, same location. There was no way that a man this powerful was just going to go for the strike again. Something else was up.
Punching out with the shield again to meet it, The light of the saber went off. No longer being drowned by crimson light. Trakata. I knew it as soon as it happened. Why? Because I did the same thing to the Mongrel. Because I saw both Romi Jade, and Coren Starchaser use it in combat. I was glad that I had grabbed my saber a moment earlier, as the Azure blade snapped to life. Cutting the air between my body and the crimson saber. Clashing.
I won't deny the strike was impressive. I had to use every ounce of my wrist, forearm, and upper arm strength to hold back the blow, my own saber tip barely tapping into my own helmet by pure accident. If he noticed, it left a slight mark of metal being scorched, but not much more. That's what reinforced duraplast gets you. With the strike so close to my body, I couldn't just use another push to gain distance, I had to create my own.
Pivoting off of my back foot, The loss of resistance on our blades clashing for that moment, as well as flipping my wrist to guide his saber away from me, provided just enough distance for me to get a better hold of the situation. Tucking the shield back towards my body at the same time. Now much like he had done, the azure blade of my own then just suddenly shut off. My armor's system working in unison, a dump of dampener aerosol almost plumed from my armor at this distance. Expelling it into a smoke cloud. My HUD already activating to Ultrasound. Why? Because Dampener Aerosol could hide thermal readings, from others. So good at doing so, blaster shots could dissipate into the smoke to become harmless. The pinging of Echolocation allowed me to still pick up the man in the HUD.
Time for the offensive. I came back into the smoke. The force flowing through me. Increasing my speed, and thus power. My right crossing over towards his faceplate. The saber in my hand acting as extra weight, a tighter clench of my fist, would allow a heavier blow to the helmet, but without missing a beat, the shield would be used as an extension of my hand, and arm. Coming in for a liver shot. Stepping into the punch, twisting with ankles, knees, hip, torso, shoulders, all the way down my arm. Kinetic Linking of throwing your body weight into a punch while not overextending. A third strike was incoming. My right foot, instead of being back, was now thrust forward. Placing it to be directly between his own boots. Closing that distance so the right hook that came at his head for a second shot would have a different angle of attack. Instead of being at the face plate, it was more towards the temple.
"Did that answer your question on the Test?"
Sure, we both wore armor, but armor with a faster speed, can still do concussive damage. Knock him around and daze him. Even if we were now both surrounded in the dense smoke of the dampener. Diversion, obscured vision, fast strikes, and a sudden change from being defensive to going on the offence could push this conflict into my advantage.
The temple was chaos. Fire everywhere. The Sith murdering his fellows.
And always a Stronghold threatening to fall. Or already fallen.
Nathan wondered if he was doomed to this forever. To watch it all burn.
What a fitting Hell, if it was Hell.
The Clone Knights, blue armored warriors inspired by The Senate Commandos, cut into warriors armed with Vibrospears and shields based off weapons he had discovered on Dantooine.
Make no mistake, any of you who read this: The presence of the ancient Clone Army found in Kytrand's system was a massive, massive problem.
See, when you have an army, it's gotta get used. You have to provide for it.
He could have let them all go without offering a job, told them to space off, find their own destiny.
But then they get hired by everyone else. Thankfully none of them knew the coordinates to Kytrand. It was vital it stay that way.
Plus, everyone would have noticed a sudden massive influx of Clones resettling everywhere. Then they would have probably blabbed about him (Because there was no hope of memory wiping all of them.).
He was in a real conundrum. The smartest thing to do would have been to not wake the giant Clone Army (Which, he had realized with interest, was now supplemented by Separatist Battle Droid Models...some body was trying to plug the gaps...) but then he'd be condemning the Clones to an Eternity of Imprisonment. That's something he wouldn't wish on anyone... except Phyre...
If he got rid of the Clone Army, he compromised Kytrand. If he kept it, used it...he was in violation of Alliance Policy. Jedi Policy.
He had said he hadn't cared what happened to him after the Cult was destroyed. But this could very well knock him out of the race before he ever got to lay hands on another Cultist, let alone Elaine.
He would just have to play it by ear. With everyone trying to stay alive against the Sith, witness reports could get confused. Recollections imperfect. Of course, so much chaos was happening right this second, would they really blink at the presence of the Clone Army happily blasting away at the Sith?
Nathan's Dark Blue Lightsaber bashed repeatedly against a heavily armored Sith. Djem So user. Highly trained.
An Ataru leap carried Nathan over the warrior, a swift decapitating move from Nathan following during the leap, barely deflected by the Sith--
--who got a Vibrospear right in the back on his right side, thrown some distance for his trouble by a Clone Knight, who fist pumped as he hit the target. Nathan rushed The Sith without mercy, smashing the enemy's saber from his hand and chopping his opponent's hand off.
Nathan raised the energy sword to cleave through his opponent's head...
DIRECTIVE THREE: UPHOLD THE WILL OF THE FORCE.
He hesitated, the Directives he had been mentally conditioned with since childhood, violable only where the Cult of The Brain Demon was concerned, stayed his raised saber.
He compromised, cut off the Sith's other hand and simply punched the Sith so hard he broke his Jaw and knocked him out cold
"You!" he pointed out to a nearby Clone Knight, who had just finished impaling a Sith Soldier with his own sword. "Get a Neural Disruption Collar on this one! We're taking him for interrogation."
"Big guy..." The Clone Knight remarked. "Might be trouble keeping him in restraints."
Nathan cut off one of the Sith's legs. The Sith woke up screaming and Nathan knocked him the Feth out again...
"He's got bigger problems. I've seen to that." Nathan said, rushing deeper into the temple...
At the apex of the naval conflict, the chorus of turbolasers and photon torpedoes made way for the arrival of the Imperial Despot. The very Right Hand of the Emperor, and figurehead of the Imperial Remnant made Empire-Resurgent. Ignacious Korvan
led the charge, valiantly pushing through the collapsing portal into the fray. His arrival bringing forth the attentions of many from across the battlefield.
It was a sign that the Empire would accept nothing short of victory in the face of overwhelming odds. Even so, it would be only a short time before events would spiral to fruition as the Alliance One Super Star Defender unleashed its relentless barrage upon the critical infrastructure of the flagship as it approached. Tension hung heavy in the air, many of the Predator's crew poised on the brink of uncertainty. Staring out as the Despot led the charge.
Amidst the chaos, Sinestra would feel a shiver run down her spine as a dark presence invaded her thoughts, penetrating the barriers of her mind with once more. The voice of the Sith'ari, echoing through her consciousness like a whisper in the shadows.
"The time has come, Sinestra," Solipsis's voice intoned, its cadence reverberating with an eerie resonance. "You know what to do."
Aris watched her. She shook her head no, but the colors she exuded certainly spoke volumes over the ringing in his head. Again he patted her hand. Tried to give some comfort. If he couldn't do anything else, he would at least help to keep her calm. His gaze back to where the Sith was at least confirmed they weren't being chased. But they needed to get off world.
They needed a plan.
They had a plan. Aris blinked as he watched the ship come down close. Being deaf only filled him with even more worry. He looked to Zaiya, then to Braze. "What's going on? Who is that?" He stood, somewhat, in his seat, looking ahead as he reached for the saber on his hip. Panic. It was amazing how important hearing truly was when it was lost. He didn't know who this could be, if they were friend or foe. He couldn't hear the others to know what they knew.
He only glanced back to Zaiya for confirmation, but she was just as nervous and scared. Jump. He recognized that before he blinked and looked back to Braze. Then to her. There was a lot of uncertainty here, but he did trust her. So his hand fell away from his ligthsaber and he held his hand to her in turn.
If they were going to jump onto the ramp, he knew she would need help.
After relocating into the debris field, and opening a salvo upon the Alliance fleet, the Imperial fleet reels from a return barrage.
Alliance One decimates the bridge of the Tiberius
The Tiberius issues a final command, and enters lightspeed straight at the Allaince line - hoping to take as many ships down with her.
Final Post
“Your overconfidence will be your undoing. You can’t see that only because you choose not to Korvan.” Erskine rarely had ever used Ignacious’ name when addressing him, but when it did happen, it usually garnered attention. Now was no exception.
Whether it was the use of his name itself within the facsimile that was Erskine within Korvan’s mind, or the subtle loosening of Solipsis’ boon as the Dark Lord’s plan began to secretly unfold; the dark grip that had steeled his mind from the pangs of his own conscience began to fade. The clouds within Korvan’s mind began, and the voice of his old mentor began to ring as clear as a fine crystal in his head. For the first time in his life, Korvan felt a sensation he had only associated with lesser, weaker men...
Doubt.
“...What would you have me do...? Why do this here, and now?” His voice was no longer far away nor distorted. He could hear the doubt laced in his voice like a vile poison, punctuated by the flickering flames that cast both men in a poignant mood. “I cannot turn my guns on our own forces in the middle of battle. We’ve come too far and done too much.” ‘I’ve done too much’ Korvan didn’t say, as strange as it was to have an internal monologue in one’s own mental conversation.
Korvan felt a hand on his shoulder, and the regent met his gaze. “It’s never too late to turn back when the alternative is to fall off of a chasm, lad. But you can’t do much now, I’ll grant you that. You can’t sacrifice the fighting spirit of your men. But you can leave the fight to others who might turn the tide. You can stop.”
‘You can stop.’
Those words echoed through his mind as the sounds of cannon fire rocking through his ship began to bleed through his psyche. He stared into Erskine’s eyes as his actual eyes stared through the view station of the bridge unseeingly.
For the first time that no one would see, Korvan’s resolve cracked like a fissure working its way over thousands of years through a sheet of ice. For the first time, Korvan came to the inescapable conclusion that...
He was wrong.
The return salvo rocked through the debris field, fracturing the asteroids and broken hulls of old warships and causing shrapnel and further debris to fly in every direction. The smaller ships were hard pressed to take evasive action, for although the field helped spare some of the return fire from making direct impact, their shields suffered a punishing barrage of the aforementioned debris as impacted.
The larger ships wouldn’t be so lucky, as the majority of the return salvo would ravage their shield arrays and bleed through to their armor plating. Their weapons systems would begin to prime for another return salvo when the unexpected would happen, and the treachery of the Dark Lord himself would be revealed.
“Sir, we’re picking up override codes from... Alliance One. Our shields are modulating, and the engineering deck is not responding We-”
“INCOMING TORPEDOS!”
The bridge crew had mere moments to react as the torpedoes surged through the void. A conflagration of screams and status reports began to erupt through the bridge. The Admiral glanced over at the Despot, who amidst all of the chaos and confusion, stared with a completely oblivious expression through the viewport. The Admiral instinctively tackled the Despot away from the viewport mere moments before the torpedoes impacted. The shields folded as the first few torpedoes impacted against the shield array paneling, then failed completely as the transparisteel viewports were shattered. As the Admiral and Despot landed near the rear of the bridge, those at their stations immediately by the bridge were instantly sucked out into the void. Those who weren’t immediately thrown off of their feet from the explosion gripped their consoles and tried to remain within the ship. The Admiral gripped a railing as his feet lifted from the deck, and his free hand had just barely managed to grip that of the Despot.
Korvan’s eyes shot around with a panic, but his fingers wrapped around the hand of his savior, and a moment later his free hand gripped the Admiral’s forearm. Containment breach alarms blared throughout the bridge as the air was literally sucked from the room. Thankfully, the security measures would kick in and blast doors would seal the bridge from full decompression. Nearly half the crew was vented through the breach, with the other half rising slowly to their feet. The Admiral took in several deep breaths as he settled his nerves, which in turn mirrored that of the Despot. Both men stood up slowly, with emergency crews quickly piling into the bridge to carry away the wounded and replenish what stations were now left empty. Eventually, the tactical officer, who had thankfully not met the same fate as some of his colleagues, would be among the first to provide a status report.
“Shields are at critical levels sir... it appears they were overridden. It will take some time for them to be restored. The shield array is damaged, and we have several breaches throughout the ship.”
He hesitated before he continued: “...Sir, we are detecting firing solutions originating from... our own ships amongst the Imperial Fleet. Not our own contingent, but those under the command... of Admiral Sularen.”
The Admiral quickly responded. “That’s impossible. Hail the Grand Admiral, and Admiral Cott. We need to get to the bottom of this-”
“Belay that order.” Ignacious interjected. He let out a deep, cleansing breath as he felt his mind seemingly ease from... what felt like a fog that had settled in his mind for recent memory. The reality of the situation... the whole situation, began to settle in.
“Your overconfidence will be your undoing. You can’t see that only because you choose not to Korvan.”
How had he been so blind? The question rattled through his mind like a ball within a canister. But the memory of... a dream slowly began to return. Was that... the last time he remembered feeling this way? In the aftermath of the Fall, he had felt a sense of purpose driven by the dishonor of failure. He had to keep some semblance of the Empire that was intact even as it fractured in his hands. But after that dream... which felt so far away, as if completely intangible - he remembered kneeling at the feet of the Dark Lord, who himself spouted promises of grandeur and power.
Of true Order, the likes of which no one else could achieve.
“At last, you see.” Erskine smiled, placing his other hand on Korvan’s shoulder as both shook him like a proud father, relieved that his words had found purchase. “Now, see it through. You can’t fix it now, but you can release yourself from it.”
Ignacious eyes drifted to the blaster on the table. It was then that his mind clicked as to the metaphor his subconscious was trying to impress upon him.
“Abandon ship. All of you.”
Everyone on the bridge fell silent and stared at the Despot. Finally, the Admiral spoke up. “Surely you can’t be serious sir. We have options, we can get out of this-”
“I said, Abandon ship, Admiral.” The same old Korvan returned, devoid of the pall that had seemingly fallen upon him over the preceding months. His eyes met the Admiral’s, and locked with those of the crew. “Remember what’s happened today. Fall in line when you return to Imperial forces, and... avenge me when the time is right. Avenge all of those who have fallen. MOVE!”
Upon his order, the bridge crew began to leave, and Korvan grasped the arm of the Admiral as he leaned in and whispered in the man’s ear. “Tell my son... that he needs to do what I lacked the strength to do.” The two men locked eyes, and the Admiral nodded slowly in acknowledgement. He hesitated, as if to protest, but the Despot shoved him through the turbolift door as it closed and descended to the escape pods.
Evacuation claxons blared through the ship. Korvan, for his part, sat in the command chair and keyed in override commands to transfer full power to his console, which thankfully remained in his disposal to do. His fingers raced upon the display as he keyed in navigation coordinates. Wordlessly, his Death Mask guards stood at attention in front of him. Korvan’s eyes met their visors, and he gave them all a nod without saying a word.
They had protected him for many years since their inception, and he knew it would be pointless to order them to abandon their charge. Without an order having to be given, each of them approached a station, and despite their lack of expertise in the fields of naval operation, stood ready to act as best they could. But given the technology built into the Tiberius with its state of the art equipment, their participation would be minimal.
The Despot finished keying in the commands, and in turn the Tiberius would lurch to align itself appropriately. It pulled free of the debris field, ambling along like a wounded animal as it aligned to face the approaching Alliance battlegroup. Soon thereafter, the hyperdrive would begin to power up. Escape pods would swarm from the hull of the battlecruiser as the drive systems would hum to life, ready for the Despot to execute his final order.
“I... failed.” Korvan said as the reality of the situation washed over him.
“No lad.” Erskine responded. “You did not fail... You fell. But now, you know what must be done. You just need to get back up and do it.” Mentally, which was mirrored in reality, Korvan nodded with renewed resolve. This was not an act of heroism, nor an act of redemption.
Ignacious never had been a hero, nor an idealist. He had always been, above all else; a survivor first, and a sort of megalomaniac second. He cared little for the revolution or the battle between light and dark. But despite his flaws both personal and otherwise, Korvan did prize Order above all else.
And god help anyone who fecked with his brand of Order.
He glanced at the evacuation status, noting that the majority of the pods had managed to discharge from the ship. The hull would lurch as more fire would rake against its hull, and impact sirens would blare as he rocked in his chair. But despite the damage mounting upon the hulking warship, no amount of firepower would stop what was about to happen.
Korvan’s final, and most paramount act of defiance.
“Long live... The Empire.”
His finger would tap the command to execute, and within moments, the Tiberius would surge forward. The stars would begin to stretch and contort as the drive drew to full power. Then, in an instant the Battlecruiser Tiberius would surge forth at the Alliance battleline - intent to puncture through the formation. With how closely packed the battle group was, it would be almost an impossibility for the flagship to avoid her - much less many of the other capital ships.
And so it was, that Ignacious Korvan - Former Grand Moff of the New Order, Grand Admiral of the Imperial Fleet, and Despot of the Dark Empire...
Smoke. A crude, but somewhat effective, yet desperate tactic. If they were facing anyone else, this would have been considerably more effective. The Manda battlenet linking all of them meant that while he couldn't physically see through the smoke, the overlaid enemies on his vision seen through the hull of his tank on his own helmet meant that really he had no need to. Strill's lines didn't falter, they held, and hold they would till they received orders to the contrary or ran out of ammunition, and that wasn't happening any time soon.
His HUD flashed with an incoming comms alert, this one from the Carians. Last time he'd fought alongside them, they did not have the most sophisticated sensor and scanner equipment, but that might have changed in the years that had gone by. Frankly, Ruus was hoping for some good news, the Carians atin fighters he had the pleasure of knowing, he very much doubted that even if the reduced visibility had caused them any real issues, they were just going to sit there and let the enemy exploit that.
“Sir, incoming transmissions from Mandalorian reinforcements,” his comms officer announced and handed him the phone.
Farlorn picked up the radio piece, pleasantly surprised to hear a familiar voice on the other side of the radio. “Been a long time, Colonel. Never got around to buying you a drink for your support on Dorvalla,” he said to Ruus Kote “My men won’t need support. Their goal was to draw the bulk of the enemy force into our defense lines where I have a series of ambushes awaiting them. I just got a report from I'dadr Gargon alleging probing attacks trying to feel our lines out. I can’t risk them triggering my ambush positions early. If we can neutralize their probing attacks here in the Greyzone, and use their smoke against them to isolate these probing forces from each other and headquarters, we can keep them blind to the true composition of our defense lines. I can send about two additional companies of my men to assist in these limited counter-attacks if you agree.”
"Colonel Farlorn. Sadly we haven't. We should remedy that when we get the hell off this world. Though I'd hold, Colonel, if these shabuire are anything like the Maw they're supposed to be the successors of, they'll be hitting us before long," he said, a smile having formed on his face at hearing the voice of one of his old comrades in arms. It was nice to see that not everyone they'd fought alongside in the CIS was either dead or had been lost one way or another. Seeing his HUD inform him of another incoming transmission, this one from I'dadr Gargon
, he stopped transmitting to Colonel Farlorn and let the incoming transmission play.
On his comlink he would then relay information to a Ruus Kote, he had worked with another clansmen with the last name Kote in the past. On his comlink he would speak more commonly, at this point he would be given a tough tactical decision early in the battle. Due to the tactical information that his observation post was spotting.
"Vod, it looks like our front is being probed by several smaller squads in preparation across the eastern front. From what it looks like there will likely be a larger offensive that may take place on the east. However the north is dealing with the brunt of the action right now with a large droid attack, we cant make out what they are armed with but they should be considered very dangerous. Jate Oya'karir!"
"Elek, vod, we'll divert," he snapped off over the comms before switching to the command frequency, "This is Ke'gyce 6 to all Ke'gyce callsigns, we'rre diverting north.Oya shabla manda, vode!" Jintar didn't need to be told twice, Ruus both felt and could see from his own station that his tank was moving as well. Ruus split his HQ company into three, with one platoon following his tank down the main road, and the other two following the Waylon and Ranah's super-heavy command tanks respectively down the two parallel streets.
Ruus' tanks moved quickly across the paved surfaces, and so it was only a few paranoia filled moments before they arrived toward the north. The tanks' powerful sensors were an asset on their own, but networked. properly processed and fused like they were by the Manda battlenet, they were one of the only things keeping the endless stream of varied enemy attackers from picking apart Strill's troops like they might have otherwise. Though optical systems may have been reduced in effectiveness in an extremely significant way, the other sensors had picked out some very large signatures moving not quite like any vehicle.
"It'd be too shabla much to ask them to make it easy on us and fight like normal shabla people, won't it," sighed Walon over the command frequency. Ruus could empathize, the unconventional tactics were clever, he'd have to give them that, but he would give almost anything at this juncture for a good old fashioned straight up modern engagement. Perhaps their enemy realized they couldn't win in such a scenario, perhaps they were too dini'la to fight conventionally. He didn't know, and frankly, he wasn't being paid to shabla care.
"Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur.Tra'cyar mav," almost sighed Ruus in response over comms. Repeating heavy mass-drivers spat HE-Frag-FS rounds that showered the creatures in over thousands of tunqstoid fragments while heavy repeating Class-D disruptor cannons joined in against any that didn't seem content to lay down and die. The smaller main battle tanks picked up the slack at anything else in the grey zone that seemed to resolve itself as a threat. It almost seemed too easy, Ruus wondered if this was the enemy's masterstroke or if the dini'la shabuire had anything else up their sleeves.
Summary
Ruus moves his HQ company to the north and engages the creatures that have been unleashed as well as anything else hostile.
Spindly managed to get a shot at the young Jedi, and was partially successful in her attack. However, just as the twi'lek woman had expected, it would not be enough to kill her opponent. The Jedi did indeed deflect most of the attacks, even redirecting them back at the woman. So now she had to dodge her own shots. Of course, she was not nearly as fast or as skilful as her opponent and neither was the Force. She wasn't even wearing any shield generators, so she couldn't even count on that kind of protection. As she tried to dodge the shot, one grazed her arm and another hit her leg where the armour was.
She groaned softly in pain, but she was not about to give up the fight. Her arms throbbed in pain and her green skin showed a long-burnt streak from the blaster projectile. Because of her helmet, she could not smell the burnt flesh at the moment, and of course she had already sustained worse injuries. Now, because of the adrenaline, she couldn't really feel the pain, apart from the skin pulling, but she knew it was only a matter of minutes before she started to feel the throbbing, constant pain on her arm. The other, which hit the leg, hit the metal plate, so there was no direct hit, but the blaster projectile heated up the metal part, which burned the woman's entire thigh, though not as badly as the arm wound.
Now she was only able to jump to the side because of the adrenaline, which may have saved her life. At the Jedi's words, she laughed hoarsely.
"I love it when a Jedi talks about slaughtering someone! You are no better than the Sith you hate so much!" she chuckled a little. "Come little Jedi, show us what you can do!" she tried to taunt him.
But there was little time for further action, because the next moment she heard rockets roaring in the sky and shots hitting a nearby building near the duel. Moments later, it turned out that it wasn't so close, it was one of the buildings next door, and it started to fall down the narrow street in the direction where she and the Jedi were. Though Spindly would have liked to keep fighting; she knew that if. She would have liked to say they would meet again, but there was no time.
She immediately turned and started running in the opposite direction to the Jedi, then jumped for cover further away so she wouldn't be buried under the rubble of the collapsing building and survive. After the building fell, dust filled the street and she could barely see. And the woman was just beginning to feel painful burns.
<< Khan, I'm heading back to your position! Spindly out! >> she sent the message and headed off in the direction where the other teams were based on the coordinates.
‘Our orders are to maintain our position so as to aid the ground operations and ensure the safe extraction of our troops. I will not jeopardise that, no matter the cost!’
The flurry of communications that was now bombarding his command panel was becoming infuriating to say the least. Ships of his task force were calling for additional orders, the drama unfolding across the debris field. The vast ships of the Galactic alliance and The Imperial Despot skulked and loomed, their enormous bodies casting a defiant wall of mettle against the cool black expanse beyond.
The action was heating up, ships moving position, maneuvering out of the way of each other, battery fire and missiles launching towards the antagonists, two mortal enemies in fierce combat.
A shriek of alarm from the communications array; the Despot’s ship had been dealt a fatal blow. Cott’s eyes felt as if they could bulge no further, his breath held as the information relay poured forth detailed analysis of the situation. No amount of data could convey what he knew to be happening; a desperate panic to regain control of the only thing between you and the empty void, the vacuum of space and unwelcome grave-site for any space mariner to drown in.
It looked from his hollow display as if the enormous capital ship was positioning itself to face the Galactic capital behemoth.
He looked back at the tactical display relay, more information streaming in.
‘Fire ordnance on planetary targets A through C. Answer those calls for assistance. Launch Squadrons 12 through 16 to provide further support to ground operations. Cover this extraction zones for our soldiers.'
He looked up sharply. A violent, almost subsonic boom that radiated through the ship’s communications display.
‘What in Hoth…?’
There was pandemonium amongst the Imperial Line. Cott had been present at Dantooine. He’d seen Imperial ships ram through Confederate battle cruisers before. He’d known the weight of the ships as they sliced through smaller vessels like a laser knife through tough mutton. He knew something terrible had happened.
‘Maintain your order! Defend the ground positions!’
He muttered a quite prayer, to whom he did not know. This action would be decisive. He did not yet know how but he knew this day would change things. His priority was now to ensure the survival of as many Imperial personnel as possible.
Location: Tython, Evac Platform
Allies: NSO, Dark Side Elite, Knights of Ren
Enemies:Jedi: Jasper Kai'el
Equipment: Stygian Codex, Lightsaber
Kaleb would continue to swing ferociously with his blade. His eyes while still blinded, he would use the swirling energies of the Force as his guide. At last would his green blade finally connect. Kaleb could hear the clash of lightsabers once more, the smell of the blades mixing in with the intensity of the storm. It was all unsettling to Kaleb, but he would still press the attack upon the Jedi. He wasn’t here for the innocent, he was here to make a stand against the Order that chased him. He would have his Jedi blood.
The furious scowl was still present on the arrogant Jedi’s face as he found himself pressing into a dance of blue and green. The thunder roared while blades clashed, as Kaleb hoped to press the might of his blade against the man. He hoped to break the lock through strength alone. Kaleb couldn’t see why the man had made the connection with his blade, for in his excitement did Kaleb love the thrill of blade upon blade.
The Jedi pushed back against Kaleb. Kaleb would find himself breaking from the lock, the rain continued to envelop the Jedi while he watched the man jump back. It was as if the man had become one with the rain while he moved. The winds continued to howl furiously and Kaleb would quickly try to launch another series of strikes hoping for the green blade to slash upon flesh through rain.
A flash of light struck Kaleb by his eyes. Just as Kaleb was starting to regain his vision, would he quickly be blinded again. The storm was on top of them, lightning crackled all around and debris would blow on through. Through the rain would Kaleb watch as he would feel chilling ice through the moisture. Before Kaleb could stop in his sprint would he stop to a standstill.
Kaleb couldn’t see the man. His arms swinging wildly, his blade humming as angrily as its wielder. The rain poured, and poured. He could feel stinging ice cling to his legs. The man was visible, albeit barely as Kaleb was trapped from the icy attack. He gritted his teeth in both frustration and bone chilling cold.
Zethran Cott
Marlon Sularen
Arla Rodarch
Vaux Gred
Ari Naldax
Reiner Ghadi
Ignacious Korvan
Darth Ptolemis
Sinestra
