Invasion Gates of Dawn | GA Invasion of BOTM held Shihon and Oyokal

[Auteme]

Kyrel Ren | Selvaris | Vong War Camp​

"3, 2..."

Auteme didn't quite strike a pose, but she did shift her posture slightly. She couldn't see the shot they were taking, but she imagined it looked like something out of a holo. The hero stands as the shuttle doors open, observing the battlefield.

How vain.

She stretched -- for show, she'd warmed up a half hour ago -- as the shuttle descended towards the battlefield's edge. The military reporter chatted, but she couldn't quite hear him over the wind. Instead she found herself studying the battlefield.

They were coming down close to the Vong War Camp; GADF Pathfinders had set up a FOB early. Combined with some peppering of artillery blasts, the massive camp's edges looked soft, ready to be taken. As they got closer, though, she saw the maze of trenches that criss-crossed the field; she heard the blaster fire, saw the bodies, felt the pain.

Even for all her resolve in coming here, she still felt her stomach twist. This would never be her place. So many Jedi before her -- so many of her peers -- had almost relished the battle, even if they couldn't quite admit it. For Auteme it was never anything but a place of agony and death.

She wondered if this was a mistake; her mind shot back to Coruscant, where the news of her actions here was bound to provoke a response. And, of course, being here, she wondered for a moment if she would survive the battlefield.

Too late now. Was it stubbornness keeping her here, or duty?

The shuttle slowed and started to land; Auteme, seeming almost impatient, jumped down from the ramp and began to move forward. The special forces and Senate Guard assigned as her escort followed quickly, but with enough distance to let her work.

The first of the trenches had been secured, but the tight corridors had led to brutal fighting with the Maw fanatics. The wounded were lined up neatly, awaiting treatment from the few medics still moving. As her group jumped into the trenches, she paused a moment, before raising her hands. The coiled mass of Force-strands that she'd gathered around herself began to dissolve. A sparkling mist spread out from her, swirling around the soldiers; suddenly their pain lessened, their wounds healed, and they realized who had joined them in the battle. Auteme walked through the ranks of the Alliance's finest to a parade of cheers.

When the cheers dissipated, she found herself in hostile territory. Her senses flooded outwards. Quickly she learned that this was more than just trenches -- tight holes in the ground, underground tunnels, foxholes and false walls, all hid Maw attackers. The first managed to surprise her; they jumped out of a hole in the ground, grabbed her arm, swung a knife at her face. There was a wild look in their eyes; their body had been mutilated, almost devoid of form, even species, save for scars, a few brandings, and a tattoo. The rest was dirt, dust, and burnt skin.

She slammed a hand into their face, coating it instantly in a mush of Force-strands and sending them into the wall. Before she could act again, though, four blaster bolts struck their chest, and by the time she'd pulled the strands back, the wild fire in their eyes had dissipated. Suddenly she felt cold, but she forced it down, and pushed onward.

A careful Jedi could pick out the smallest things; with every step forward she became quicker when dealing with the Maw warriors. After a few minutes she was striking them before they even emerged from their hiding places. She drove a hole through the center of the Maw's trenches, and the GADF flooded forward.

"Okay. We're close enough. Showtime." She motioned quickly with her hand, and her escort fanned out into defensive positions. She gave a thumbs up to the camera, then leapt out of the trench onto the ground above.

They were about a hundred meters from the camp; a few watchtowers spotted her, but she slammed her hands together, instantly materializing a large translucent barrier, against which the Maw's weapons bounced harmlessly off.

"COME OUT," her voice boomed, traveling further than any human's could. "THE AVATARS CAN'T KILL ME. WHO ARE YOU TO TRY?" A crude challenge, maybe -- something that would surely be edited out, given the ten minute delay on the coverage. But her duty to draw the Maw's forces was just as important as her duty to inspire the Alliance. If that was what she was doing, anyways.

 

[Ishida Ashina]

SELVARIS | YUUZAN VONG WARCAMP | TUNNELS
LEADER OF THE COMPANIONS | BEARER OF THE RING OF JUDGEMENT

​

Indignant disgust, bordering on hatred, roiled beneath her skin. Even the sight of the foul Sith rekindled the crabby taste in her mouth. The only thing that kept her tempered was the balance from Sardun’s ring. That, and the astute awareness that things were not as they had been on Coruscant.

She’d felt Mercy like an itch around the snack table, but here, on Selvaris, she was like a shadowy void. All-consuming and wicked.

Briefly, Ishida’s eyes widened at the cavalier treatment of knuckles to plasma. Her weapon wasn’t entirely ineffective, but it was less so than intended. She was repositioning herself for a defensive block when Mercy made eye contact. The shimmering along her skin drew Ishida’s darting observation.

The wall was crippled by Mercy, and it groaned before it burst.

"You can do better."

Like on Coruscant, The redhead appealed to the notion of Ishida having to prove herself. To respond to provocation. Here, at least, she could rise to the challenge — the reason and restraint that had held her back before didn’t exist here. Only her pride.

Still, she defacto’d back to her reliance on her tools. The weapons in her hands rather than The Light, or The Force itself. Her saber cleaved through the initial few debris in bright, white arcs. Normally, she’d not have been strong enough, but the ring bolstered her physical aptitude. In equally swift motions, her katana was resheathed to free up a second hand that stretched out. Not as a barrier, but as something that paused the falling stones. She clenched her fist, popping the stones into smaller versions of themselves until they were little more than pebbles and dust, then she disengaged her saber, and released the cloud of debris at Mercy, kicking up additional tornadoes of dust and grit before she moved.

“Trakata is a technique for younglings and fools,”

Maybe she was a fool, time would tell, but for now she was an invisible fool. Between the remnant smoke from the reactor, the dust she’d created, and the general vision obscurity that came with their situation, Ishida was hard to see until she wanted to be.

Smaller than Mercy, she was more nimble, and able to zig-zag more like a cat between the walls until she was in a spot where she could leap, and jab forward with her blade’s edge toward the Sith’s neck. Halfway through her pounce did she reactivate her saber’s warning glow. If the Sith’s neck was like her knuckles, she’d change her approach to be less reliant on her blades; and exploit that horrible wicked feeling that came with all darksiders.

---

ALLIES | NEW JEDI ORDER | GALACTIC ALLIANCE |
FOES | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | Mercy

​

 

[Tarish Galland]

LOCATION: Station Over Jakku, Secret Meeting
WEARING: Burial Raiment, Force Talisman
WIELDING: Artifice & Probity
TAGS: Annasari Tiresh Kobitana-Draellix Ruto Tane Damian Du Couteau Alicio Organa Caulder Dune

The full face helmet helped him remain quiet during the speaking portions of the whole scene before him. His silence purchased with ease given his reluctance to use what was available to him. Aside from that he was largely unknown to those present.

Save for one face that would recognize him without the blank helmet covering his own.

The Taozin Nodule keeping his force presence muted for any capable of sensing such things. The Talisman kept in place to mitigate potential harm in the spot he had found himself.

The cloak hid the choice of weapons tucked close to his armored form, as well as most of the armor plating. A silent thanks to the force to have foresight in not wielding a lightsaber with this council.

His arms kept behind his back at parade rest for the time being to seem at ease.

He blinked behind the visor, already feeling a strange sense of exhaustion with all of the proceedings. The annunciator and speaker system switched off in his helmet for the time being as he did his best to ignore the prattling. It was one thing to be scared in a warzone. Life and death merely a matter of seconds at a time.

The wrong time and place being one's worst enemy there.

In here though, a different beast rumbled, sharpened its claws, and made its own time to strike. A beast that he dared not garner the attention of with a stray gesture.

The senate and its members a bunch that he had never even bothered to think twice about until he had been paid a handsome, and rather exorbitant amount of credits, to play guard dog in a sudden shift of plans.

An unsuspecting meeting that had found him and his gear in transit to this station.

"In for a credit, in for a kath hound." The muttered words nothing more than a sigh outside of the helmet as he watched those gathered. His heads up display keeping track of everyone present from his position.

Keeping track of anything that moved more than a few centimeters with a silent alert and highlights around the shifting being in question.

Enough to draw his attention to the fact.

The door was kept well in view, the HUD showing it as a point of interest that always dominated the left side of his gaze.

 

[Cordé Sabo]

______________________________________________________________
D U L C E T
HYPERLANE BETWEEN SHIHON AND OYOKAL | EN ROUTE TO OYOKAL
______________________________________________________________

Surprisingly, Cordé took Frea’s advice. And she tried to calm down.

Maybe not calm down, but not..say anything that would further distract her driver anyway. The bright white tunnel around them brightened, and then turned into a burst of orangey yellow flames and black. Red and blue lights within the cockpit started to flash, and Cordé felt her hand cover her mouth as a wave of disorientation ran through her. Did she yell into her palm?

Maybe.

Did they just ram into an enemy fighter? Definitely.

"Is this why you were fired?!" Cordé snapped, touching the glasteel viewport that was the lone layer between the pair in the cockpit and the all-consuming ways to die out in the space. What were those red and blue lights? Did that orange one mean something dangerous?

Frea asked a question of her own, the kind of question that could only happen when someone was addicted to the thrill and didn't ask enough questions before saying yes to the offer that got them closer to speed and the release it enabled.

“Just four of your standard torpedoes.” The answer was easy to give, and helped steady her adrenaline-riddled heart rate. “Maybe one shadow bomb.

And..me.” She winced out a crooked grin that didn’t reach her eyes. She was too busy glaring at the radar that beeped out warnings of their pursuers. "So I'd like to stay in one piece."

______________________________________________________________

F O E S | THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | OPEN
F R I E N D S | GA | NJO | SIA | Frea Sheplin
______________________________________________________________​

 

[Osarla Ridor]

GENERAL RIDOR
222ND NOVA CORPS | 512TH LEGION | 312 ATTACK BATALLION
OYOKAL | ENEMY TERRITORY

​

Shihon had been their first wave of resistance. Some of the fleet were still entangled there, and from what Osarla was picking up across the channels, the atmosphere was proving as hostile as the enemy ships. They'd listened to the updates through the tunnel of stars — but once they reached Oyokal, luxuries like listening were gone.

Some of the other ships meant to drop marines had been consumed by enemy fire — husks of metal turned into fiery blossoms of ash and bone.

When the door flung open above the agricultural world, it was little more than a streak of green.

Her marines were ready, if not eager. Her Padawan? He was becoming harder to read. He was an earnest thing, and tried wholeheartedly to persevere but he was just so...soft. And while Osarla could think of instances where that might be useful, by her side on the battlefield was not one of them.

Regardless, he was her student. She'd chosen him.

Her hand clasped over his shoulder as they stood at the brink of the ship's ramp where two other marines had gone ahead and tumbled down, disappearing into the mists of Oyokal and swallowed out of visibility. "Remain steady and focused. Centre yourself. You know what to do and where to go."

She took a step forward, double-checking her pack, and then braced her knees to launch from the side of the transport.

"I will find you down there." Her grip turned into an encouraging pat, which turned into a shove. And they were out of the ship, falling, falling, falling.

It was a last minute decision she made not to use her chute. Something in the Force tingled warningly, and isntead, she cushioned her landing with a roll and a counterblast of telekinetic cushioning. Okay, two rolls. Three.

Osarla groaned and rubbed one of her montrals that felt so aching she half-thought it was bent. She was out of practice on her drop landings. And she was going to have the bruises to prove it.

Immediately, she was alone. No member of her team was within visible proximity.

With the Force, she reached out. Sion was her first priority to find.

"Flower progressing toward rendezvous one. Nova Actual, do you read?"

<Copy, Flower. This is Nova Actual, I read you. I'm recovering Brush and we will advance to the rendezvous with you.> She felt her Padawan easily, and moved in his direction. He'd landed the nearest to her than any of the other Nova Corps — less than twenty feet away.

The rest, Flower especially with her static, were a little further.

"We have company. A forward scout... and they have their war monsters."

Which turned out not to be a good thing.

The General stood near to her Padawan, and stretched to see if she could perceive any movement that was friendly. In the distance, she saw the shape Major Ocano had reported. Shapes, actually. More than one.

Osarla hoped that her comms would get her instructions through: <Do not engage alone, Flower. Not if you're outnumbered.>

---

ALLIES | GA | NJO | Teshi Ocano | Sion Lorray
FOES | THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | nah dog

 

[Vesta]

FEEL NOTHING​

Location	Selvaris
Enemies	Galactic Alliance - Valery Noble Corazona von Ascania BB-610
Allies	Brotherhood of the Maw
Equipment	Needle of Fate

It was the same.

She watched the fighters piloted by Maw slaves and soldiers alike slam their ships into Alliance vessels to break an opening for more of the Brotherhood's forces to advance, felt the terrified screams as honorable or perhaps merely non-suicidal Jedi and Alliance whelps realized they were experiencing their final moments without even the time to savor their sacrifice. Gone, in an instant, only to be replaced by dozens more minutes later. She had been on the losing side of war before, one which had shattered her entire world and broke the bonds she had with the only people that had ever mattered to her, and now she was here out of choice and obligation rather than an a powerless pawn thrust into the death spiral of some failing empire.

It still felt the same.

The powerlessness of knowing that she was bound to failure if it meant ultimate success, different only in the end that this charade was justified by. She didn't relish the flavor of death, the taste for which she had nearly grown accustomed to since the moment she had sealed her fate on Rhand, and here she was being bombarded by it - by the hundreds on either side that simply didn't understand how close they were coming to the end of their lives until it was wiped away like the pink mist they had become in the vacuum of space. Standing here, on the ghost ship that had haunted the galaxy after its return from Tython with its new master, felt just as pointless as the unlimited power that other Sith in the galaxy dreamed of obtaining. All of it was for nothing except a glorified tribute of her own life for the freedom of a galaxy's worth of people from the enslavement of a fickle master in the way of the force.

It was only the threat of her own network of support, of the very Maw she led as its Voice, that she descended from the Fatalis to the vongformed world of Selvaris below.

She grit her teeth in frustration at the pointless posturing she was forced to endure in order to keep the ill-tempered tribal warlords and conniving Sith under her thumb, like some glorified politician that had to coerce her supporters through empty promises and an endless grift to ensure the train she was driving wouldn't be derailed before it could arrive at its destination. Simpletons that desired conquest of the stars and a sprawling network of things to take and repurpose in order to waylay their enemies - never interested in discovering the very means that forced them into these cruel roles and solve those problems at their roots, or hoping to rid themselves of her when they no longer needed her to destroy the enemies they could not. She was glad for their blatant disregard for the implications of her very open desire to reshape the galaxy, one that would see their disappearance along with both the Jedi and her own, as otherwise their added hostility would have prevented her from ever being given the opportunity to lead the Alliance and all the rest of the Maw's opposition directly into the furnace itself.

"Exegol."

She whispered the word as she stepped out of the small, sleek, black vessel that had ferried her to the surface of Selvaris. It was where this all was supposed to lead to - where it all needed to end. Her role was, by her own design, intended to double as the guide for the greater galaxy to arrive there and for her to personally see the dismantling of the Jedi order and the Sith alike. A reality that never acquired either party and lacked the need or even practicality for either to exist; an ideal stretch of stars and space where the mundane was commonality and the rest little more than fragments of a forgotten reality, one that seeped back into their hearts and minds like memories they never could have experienced themselves much like dreams.

Her red saber sprang to life in the very same moment that the life around her fell into decay, a light that seemed to project itself without shine with twice the iniquity and thrice the menace. She was never one for jungle life, preferring the volcanic misery of Maena any day, especially given the predilection for forestry to whither and die in her adult presence. Her open disdain grew as she felt the presence of another that she'd the displeasure of meeting before - Valery Noble - who shared a similar tie to life through the light side of the force. With little regard for the steady loss of life around her, or the casual drain of the very color and sound that echoed nearby, she moved towards it like a terentatek towards food.

 

[Damian Du Couteau]

Damian Du Couteau, Senator of Empress Teta
Objective: BYOO
Outfit

The other Senators began to voice their concerns, and Damian in turn kept his focus on his hands sitting on top of the table. It was clear that while words like ‘treasonous’ weren’t spoken, it was certainly an issue that such discussions were being had under such conditions. For the most part the questions that followed were clear that this proposal could potentially cause more worry than it would ease. For the young Du Couteau Heir's own part, he hoped his fingers fidgeting wouldn’t be noticed by others through the slight movements beneath his sleeves. Damian’s ease was not something that could be eased by others, that was a job for himself to which he unfortunately was currently unable to accomplish.

Not an unjustified concern though for that wanted assurances of stability in the aftermath, but with proper planning and coordination the Senate shouldn’t be any worse for wear than how it would normally react for any other proposal. Senator Stark and Kobitana could offer a stabilizing hand, of course if Senator Organa were to weigh in the optics would improve dramatically. Despite Representative Dune’s rejection there were ways to find support among the other Corporatists, even turbulence in the market could bring profits to those given particular guarantees. There are always angles to play and maneuver. He learned that it was possible to spin a single story a thousand different ways to suit any required narrative.

Damian stopped his fidgeting as he listened to Senator Bao’s words, she spoke rather matter of fact and wasn’t shy about making a subtle jab with her remarks. Though subtle might be too soft of a word. The young Du Couteau Heir listened and considered the real possibility that they could all miss the forest for the trees. The possibilities were endless, and to properly conclude a logical proposal required an understanding of nearly all such possibilities. In which when emergencies arise and time wasn’t available to consider everything, then it was up to the Senate to fall back on procedure to find time and answers. The safest way to navigate a forest was of course with a map and a compass.

“I concur with the Senator of Humbarine, that in a situation of which time is of the essence, the Senate can find itself flat-footed. In which case this proposal is to act as a failsafe, one that will grant us the time needed to find the correct solution.” Damian spoke, his voice growing softer, his anxiety rose but slowly he placed his hands beneath the table.

He turned his attention to Senator Bao, “-Though I would argue that the apparent lack of attention to the Imperials on our eastern borders should not be conflated here in our discussion.” Damian’s eyes failed to meet the Senator’s own, instead he subtly changed his gaze else-where.

“We are a democratically elected Republic and the people’s primary concern is the threat to the North. The Maw had delivered a near devastating blow, and inflicted a deep wound. One that must be healed through ven-” Damian blinked as he quickly corrected himself, “-retribution. The reports that the people of Alliance should see is the North secured, not one of waging two brutal wars.” Damian wanted to rewind time, but his slip up would be his to correct later.
​

|| Annasari | Tiresh Kobitana-Draellix | Ruto Tane | Alicio Organa | Caulder Dune | Arage Bao | Tarish Galland ||​

 

[Holly Starstorm]

BYOO: GOLDEN OPPORTUNITIES // STARBIRD CLEARANCE SENATOR INVITE // PROPOSAL
((With permission of Annesari. Will edit if others wish))

When the ship finally stopped moving Holly couldn't help but notice the atmosphere was extremely quiet for a full scale military invasion. Jimmy was still young and inexperienced as a member of the press and at first he didn't seem to realize anything was wrong. They waited, letting crew members go before them so they could blend in, and walked down the exit ramp. What they found was not a planet at all but instead some type of station.

"I thought we were going to the battle?" Jimmy spoke up as he finally realized something was amiss.

"I thought we were. Where else would this supply ship be going? It's listed as supplies for the battle."

"Jakku apparently."

He pointed out the view and Holly did a double take. They were nowhere near where they thought. Not only that, but there wasn't a lot of staff around. It was almost like the place was a secret and only a few people got the invitation. For all she knew they were in enemy hands.

As If to heighten that fear a set of footsteps announced that someone was coming. Holly grabbed Jimmy and together they hurried through the closest unlocked door they could find.

Jimmy crouched down behind the door and put his ear to it, listening to the hallway.

"Oh man… what if we are on another secret death star. Oh no.. oh no… Holly?"

When he realized the reporter wasn't listening he turned away from the door and found Holly with her back to him. "You okay?"

She was absolutely fantastic. They had hurtled right into a large viewing room that overlooked a giant conference room. Below, seated at a fancy table were several Senators, all with an air of secrecy. It was like Life Day came early.

"Jimmy see if you can find a speaker system so we can hear them. Make sure not to turn on the lights! I don't want them to know we are up here."

"Are you crazy? We cant spy on the Galactic Senate! That's got to be a prison sentence. We … we.."

But it was all too much for the kid. He passed out with a soft plop on the floor.

"Good grief… I will do it myself."

Luckily Holly had enough nerve for both of them and she really wanted to know why a group of senators was meeting when all eyes were distracted with a major invasion.

 

[Jack Versio]

Objective: Engage enemy space forces
Location: Selvaris Space
Equipment: TIE Advanced X-1, squadron of mixed TIE variants
Alongside: Don Don Dono
Engaging : Kaine Hamilton

Jack's opinion of his new CO, Captain Delvardus, went up a notch when she waited only a few moments for orders before making her own decision. If Command had no urgent tasking for her squadron, she would not have them sit idle. Jack began to think he might enjoy being part of such a decisive organization as the GADF was proving itself to be. Slipstream Leader came over the squadron-only frequency, her voice clipped as if she was slightly irritated. "Seven, Nine, Eleven, break by wingpairs and attack, everybody else, stay with me." With that order, she threw her fighter to full thrust and took her combat power into the battle on her own initiative, and that included Jack and his wingman, a Karkaradon named Heccudon. The three wingpairs would hunt together, as Slipstream Squadron's doctrine demanded, Jack had learned, the CO did not like her fighters to go solo.

As their fighters approached the action at high speed, Jack commed quickly along with the other wingpair leads. "Slip Seven, breaking left." "Slip Nine, breaking right." "Slip Eleven, going up." Six fighters split from their squadron formation in three directions, Jack's TIE Advanced X-1 and Heccudon's TIE Defender going to the left. He brought his fighter around in a tight S-curve, Heccudon sticking to his wing cold and determined like the predator he was. The result was that instead of approaching in one group, the craft had split into one smaller main group of six, with three pairs above and to either side.

Ahead of them, the fleets of both sides had already begun to engage one another, the flashes of light from energy weapons and from explosions lit space. The Maw fleet was holding its position while the GADF fleet did its maneuver and engaged. "Ria, find me a target." Jack called to his astromech, who quickly flashed up data on to his cockpit monitors, and a target was highlighted in his HUD. One of the enemy ships, a menacing and huge Star Destroyer, was bracketed in the HUD with a bright red wireframe on a side display showing details the scanners could pick out. Surface targets were their best bet.

The enemy Star Destroyer quickly filled Jack's forward viewport as he pushed his fightercraft's acceleration to full, the inertial compensator almost but not quite mitigating all of the G forces. His and Heccudon's two fighters leaped across space, closing the distance to the furball very quickly, approaching at high speed. As they got close, Jack bled off speed slowly, allowing Heccudon to do the same, and the two craft returned to attack speed, as they approached firing range of the enemy. There were a hell of a lot of enemy, and so far they'd ignored the approach of one pitiful squadron of mixed TIE variants. If it was bait, it was cheap, expendable bait. Twelve TIEs against a flotilla of Star Destroyers was pitiful odds.

"Eight, before we..." His comm was a moment too slow. "..Firing!" Heccudon's voice cutting him off was joined by two concussion missiles flashing past Jack's fighter and toward the enemy fleet which they were racing right into the middle of. One of the Star Destroyers (Dread Omen) was the target of all twelve TIEs of Slipstream squadron, as others fired their own cannons and missiles, blasting the huge ship like a cloud of mosquitoes on a rancor.

His bastard wingman had fired before notifying him, Jack recognized, irritated by his wingmate doing the same sort of thing he would do, before he could do it. He put the irritation aside as his target came through his crosshairs, and tightened his grip on the dual triggers. Green laser blasts arced out from his TIE and towards the enemy ship's main tower, rewarding him with a blast of flame and gas and debris. Heccudon's missiles exploded a second later, adding to the damage from the cannon fire. The rest of their one single squadron engaged the ship around them, but Jack kept his mind limited to his own and his wingman's duties. The enemy hadn't yet launched their own fighters, but that had to change soon, didn't it?

 

[Frea Sheplin]

Cordé Sabo

Was this why Frea had been fired? No, but she had most certainly always wanted to try that. As long as moral implications weren't considered for having essentially delta-zero'd not just the vessel but body and soul of a once living being, what they had done wasn't exactly illegal. And besides that, provided that they took care of their pursuers, nobody would ever know about it unless Cordé was the one to squeal. She didn't seem like the kind of person to squeal.

"A few torpedoes and a SHADOW BOMB?!" Frea shook her head and looked back at the path ahead of them. "You only count if you want me to hurl you at them, cupcake." Frea half-shouted over the obnoxious turmoil in the cockpit — and she wasn't just talking about the nervewreck next to her. "Strap in, again. We're about to get creative."

Frea reached for the hyperdrive throttle yet again. A turbolaser that had just barely missed them seemed to slow down before it just as equally slowly began to fall back and out of sight. Not too soon after that they were back to seeing the streaks of a thousand suns passing them by again. Given how fast the fighters had located them this time it was fair to assume they had some sort of tech to trace the ship, which meant that for all intents and purposes this was a clearly one-sided fight. Agility won over strength, and it wasn't Frea's little box that had the agility they needed.

The star streaks disappeared, as did the empty void of space. This was a planet that had seen this before. Not necessarily the maneuvers being pulled but the war. A very palpable sense of gravity began to pull at the two pilots on their journey as the mist of its oceans began to rip and roar against the metallic underbelly of their cattle of war. Getting this close to the surface and breaching all known rules against piercing mass shadows was a gamble, but Cordé didn't have to know that. Not that Frea had to conceal it, something in the way Cordé seemed to crampedly hold onto her seat would almost imply that she was all too aware.

"Hope this works!" Frea shouted and took a hard left towards a set of nearby mountain formations. "For both of our sake."

The mountain was approaching at an alarming rate and the ship began to tilt to fit within a ravine barely twice the size of their vessel. Death seemed imminent, and yet there was not a single trace of fear or even hesitation in the pilot's already manic demeanor. The crush of winds impacting against a bottleneck of stone pushed against the ship and began to shake it.

They just needed a straight line. The computer ran its calculations and Frea rolled through the pursuing fighters' punches. She needed a slip-up, something to get them off of her tail. A frustrated growl rumbled in her throat. This wasn't working.

"This ain't working." She groaned and whacked the controls for a moment before she turned to face the cliffs dead ahead. "Hope that computer is as good as you said it was, Cordé."

"Grab the throttle." Her eyes darted over to the medic and then back outside. "I can't do this alone, Cordé. Grab the damn throttle!"

"When I tell you to pull; you pull with all your might and cross your fingers we survive."

"Got it? Good."

They were now heading right for the cliffside. There was no denying just how hard Frea's heart was thumping against her ribcage at that very moment. This rush was beginning to get more troublesome than it was worth. Well, she hadn't lost her rank over nothing. With a push she began to dive for the waters before promptly pulling the controls back to point their nose at the sky. The drag of the winds were enough to push them back and firmly into their seats.

The computer struggled for a moment.

"Come on, sweetheart, come on…"

The cliffs grew bigger and bigger on their sensors. Alarm bells were ringing as the navcomputer struggled to calculate the exit route. Red, red, red, red… The diode kept blinking until finally,

Green.

"CORDÉ, NOW!"

 

[Valery Noble]

Selvaris

​

Outfit: Factory Link | Necklace
Appearance: Link
Weapons: Double-Bladed Lightsaber
Ally Tag: BB-610 Corazona von Ascania
Enemy Tag: Darth Mori

They weren't good.

Valery could sense every emotion that flowed from her Padawan into the Force, and while she couldn't feel the same from Bee, she still knew that this wasn't easy for him. But a Jedi's life was all about confronting and overcoming fears and obstacles, and she was here to guide them through it all. Looking over her shoulder, Valery then watched as Cora encouraged Bee, and for the first time since their departure, she managed a soft smile.

As long as they kept an eye on each other, worked together, and stayed closer to her, they'd be alright.

"I can sense her approaching," Valery told Cora with a dip of her head. "This isn't any ordinary sith either — she's the Maw's Dark Lord." With a frown, memories of her clash with Darth Mori on Empress Teta resurfaced. It had been the most intense fight of her life but it had also provided her with important knowledge about the enemy.

Knowledge she needed to share.

"This won't affect you much, Bee, but when you focus on her aura, you'll find a bottomless pit. It's like a black hole or void that siphons in almost anything. Be aware of it and fight hard to resist her drain." She placed her hand encouragingly on Cora's shoulder for a moment and looked her in the eyes. "During my fight with her, she also shapeshifted to twist her body into unnatural, and highly unexpected angles. So even if you think you're flanking her, be extremely careful."

There was so much more she could say, but those were the most immediate threats that could be hard to adapt to. Overlook either aspect of Mori's fighting once, and there wouldn't ever be a second time.

"Alright, she's coming. Be ready." Valery's fiery gaze shifted into the jungle and her hand reached for the hilt of her double-bladed weapon. Two violet blades ignited once her thumb had found the ignition switch, and once the others were ready, she moved to meet the Dark Voice.

 

[Alicio Organa]

BYOO: GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY
ORBITAL SPACE STATION JAKKU
- Annasari - Tiresh Kobitana-Draellix - Ruto Tane - Damian Du Couteau - Caulder Dune - Arage Bao - Tarish Galland - OPEN
​

Asked and answered.

Although it wasn't hard to read the dissatisfaction on the Count's face from Senator Vahl's response. He simply nodded, lips tightening with unknowable tension, as he strangled any hastily-conceived follow ups. Being overly-difficult wouldn't serve the Alliance, and would only result in fueling the age-ist fire that had begun in the meeting.

Senator Dune was quick to condemn the meeting entirely, which only served to feed the conflict in the young man. He stared into his datapad, reviewing the wording of the motion, the specifics, the process. Alicio reflexively found his shoulders relaxing, his mouth softening, as Tiresh endorsed the new committee, with a rather important caveat.

Tiresh Kobitana, he trusted implicitly. If she supported the motion, if she defended Auteme, then he would as well. He simply nodded once to her as she finished, tension ebbing away as if he could finally see the road clearly.

Though, Senator Stark with yet another comment on age, and Senator Bao poised with a bottle of poison over Auteme's well, had comments between them that creased the Count's brow. Senator Du Coteau's concern over the wars the Alliance fought was noted, though well out of Alicio's area of expertise. He felt he had to speak, if only for a breath. "While I believe that a leader should be judged by what they have done, and not by the mistakes they have yet to make, our democracy has gone too long with only one center voice. I believe a diversity of thought in the Chancellery could be beneficial to the Alliance as a whole."

"If this motion were to hit the floor, and Chancellor Denko-Durren still hasn't chosen a second, I would support it." He hated deals behind closed doors. The sooner it was out in the open, the better.

 

[Tren Chaar]

B - W I N G _ D O W N

SHIHON
B-WING HEAVY STARFIGHTER​

---

---

Galactic Alliance CDRE Cynthia Alucard COL Tren Chaar COL Bané Zirbils Jasper Kai'el Iris Arani Brotherhood of the Maw Khione

A combination of skill, experience and luck found a bypass to reroute power from the secondary solar ionisation conversion module to the rest of the B-wing. Dim lighting returned to the cabin as several emergency alerts on the control console disappeared. While the control stick was still loose, Chaar managed to reign in the heavy starfighter. Now he was spinning end over end consistently as opposed to the dead spiral he’d been in moments before.

His fingers danced across the control surfaces as he tried to get a message out. His comm system was slagged, with both his primary and secondary antennas severed in the collision. He tasked the repair remote to fix the link as a matter of priority, though the small droid chambering across his hull had a dozen other critical repairs to effect first. Chaar tried to establish a comm laser with the fleet up in orbit but couldn’t keep the B-wing steady enough to get a message off.

His hand hovered over the squadron comm control for a moment.

The close-range link had kept the pilots of Revenant Squadron in touch during hundreds of missions. Engaging marauding Brotherhood fleets, placing listening beacons along the NIO border, anti-privacy missions in the Galactic south. Revenant had done it all, covering each other's backs no matter what the mission entailed. The twelve pilots - some originals, some recent recruits - had been orphans and washouts, brought together to form a ragtag squadron that had gone on to become to most elite in the Galactic Alliance. While not everyone always came home, they'd always known they could count on each other no matter the odds.

And now, when he needed them the most, despite all the times he’d cursed and derided his pilots, Tren Chaar was alone, in a B-wing plummeting toward the surface of Shihon.

 

[Mercy]

Ishida Ashina
​

Dueling Ishida ended up being exactly the sort of pain in the arse that Mercy expected.

Nimble, agile, small, she was like a ping pong ball shooting from one wall to the other. It was almost as if gravity had no purchase on her. In fact, Mercy wouldn't have been surprised to see her using the rock slide as a stepping stone or makeshift ladder. Like in those mystical Atrisian pulp holo-shows that she loved to devour.

All of this was to say that Mercy knew she couldn't react to it all.

Right as Ish leaped towards her the Sith took advantage of a lesson taught to her by the illustrious Ashin 'Conqueror of a Thousand Worlds' Varanin. The former Empress had turned out to be a bit of a disappointment.

But.

She had taught her something useful.

Right as Ishida's trap sprung and her dual swords (katana and lightsabre) was due to impale Mercy? Her skin gained a blue shine. It was almost imperceptible with the overwhelming copper burnish on her skin. Instead of impaling her, the sabers deflected off her skin, as if it was made out of stony rock.

"Nice try."

Mercy growled and took advantage of the sudden close proximity between the two of them. With quick alarming speed, Mercy moved faster than someone of her size ought to be capable of, to grab Ishida by the wrist. If successful she'd try and throw her through the wall. Already weakened by her earlier actions it ought to hurt properly and cause her to smash through several inches of stone.

"My turn."

This was presumably petty, but Mercy wasn't in the mood today. She was hungry and something was bothering her. A sense of danger. Something larger than Ishida by several measures.

She didn't like to feel threatened.

 

[Mrir'ik'amorn]

"Don't move."

The whisper came out not as an order, but an almost desperate request. Almost desperate. The Pathfinder slipped out of the moss weed, rifle in her hands, red eyes staring ahead. She was crouched low, walking carefully, slowly. Always slowly. It was a trick her squad picked up in their scouting here. Already the others were spreading out to help warn the Marines and get them organized.

"They see movement on the algae. Stay low, don't move too fast. If you think you Marine's can be careful for once." Rika finally cast a glance towards Teshi, giving her a brief, if cheeky, grin.

"Welcome to Oyakol."

Teshi Ocano | Sion Lorray | Osarla Ridor

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Hehe: Valery Noble BB-610
Not Hehe: Darth Mori

Even when informing them of their opponent's horrific capabilities, Valery was steady as always. She didn't seem shaken one bit, very much unlike her Padawan and astromech.

The hand she placed on Cora's shoulder was a cooling measure of reassurance, and the blonde held her Master's gaze as she spoke. Face sober but eyes still reflecting the trepidation shared she shared with Bee, Cora nodded dutifully. More than anything, she wanted Valery to be proud of her. Aside from making it out of this alive, of course.

Despite not being attuned to Mori's specific presence, the Padawan could feel her approach. A towering tsunami of darkness rising from inky tides, threatening to swallow them whole.

She's just a shapeshifting Sith Lord who can rip your very soul apart like a black hole with her presence. Nothing to be overly concerned about.

As they turned to venture further into the jungle, Cora felt her stomach lurch in a familiar, foreboding way. A frantic grimace flashed across her face.

Turning to the side sharply, the Padawan promptly vomited over their droid companion.

"S-sorry Bee," She stammered, wiping the remains of a nervous habit from her lips. "I'm good, I'm ready. I'm good." Cora confirmed, sucking a swell of humid air into her lungs in an attempt to clear the taste of bile from her mouth.

 

[Silas Westgard]

Location: Yuuzhan Vong Prison Camp Ruins
Objective: Survive the battle
Tag: Thelma Goth / Anja Doreva

With Thelma by his side, they prevented the woman from moving any further, instead turning her attention to them in the same egotistical fashion she did with the fallen Jedi. Silas did not know who she was, nor did he want to know. By the time they had finished that didn't even need to matter anymore "I do not care who you think you are, "darling" he shot back at her, gripping his saber more tightly than before "No matter what, we will not back down from the likes of you" Silas replied with determination, shooting a quick reassuring glance to Thelma.

Within moments of him doing that, the woman used her power to send him flying back with force. Silas flew through the air and rolled across the floor a few times, grunting loudly from the rough ground below. Getting up as fast as he could he didn't hesitate to run right back at his foe with immense speed, looking to rejoin Thelma in helping her get rid of this dangerous individual. At the same time, he used the force to throw pieces of debris that were scattered along the floor in order to strike from a distance.

Once he was close enough, he'd thrust his saber forwards to try and catch her while she was busy with Thelma "You're not getting rid of me that easily!"
​

 

[Xashe Tistya]

Objective I // Selvaris Wilds // No Quarter
Allies: Rhis Fisto || Enemies: OPEN
eyes on fire, your spines ablaze

Anguish could not be wiped away by her master's comforting words - the wounds were far too deep then that. She had played her part, and the blood would not be washed away except for by the waves of time. His lecture, though, did ease the burden. Trying to imagine a time where the staunch crusader shared in ideals of bleeding hearts everywhere was almost comical. That knowledge, and the steadfast rock he stood today, brought a small measure of comfort.

"There is peace, but not for them."

The mantra was the last thing uttered in their trek. Xashe pushed on through the wilds, filled with new resolve. She would meet their foe without fear. Born a sheep, she had been molded into a sword which welcomed it's victim. Rhis's presence behind her stood a steady oak against the growing tension in the atmosphere. Their intelligence had been right.

"There."

Voice low, Xashe pointed out their targets. Cultists dressed in black robes, painting the forests around them in shades of crimson. Groans seemed to rise from nowhere. Focusing on the force, the padawan probed for feeling and life. Despair hit her like a cruiser. It was similar to what she had sensed in the slaves camps, but far greater, far angrier.

"Nonono," Her free hand reached to clutch Rhis's arm. "They're raising the dead."

Horror dripped from the words. Nothing was more perverse than twisting the force to violate the laws of life itself. Xashe rose, blue iridescence coming to life in her hand.

 

[BB-610]

| LOCATION: Selvaris |
| FRIEND: Valery Noble | Corazona von Ascania |
| FOE: Darth Mori |


Their trek had, unsurprisingly, been devoid of the light he'd grown accustomed to associating with Valery. No snark, no wit, no bright smiles to ward off the rising anxieties that bubbled at the surface of a heaving chest and skittish servos. The Jedi had provided a great deal of insight, and tactically speaking, it was the right move to warn of imminent demons and justified fears. That didn't mean it was any smaller a pill to swallow, of course, as the prospect of a Sith so vile that their mere presence could rot and corrode the world around them was anything but reassuring. Without any lifeforce to steal, BB-610 found solace, but the same could hardly be said for his companion.

Glancing up at the young Padawan walking beside him, it wasn't a hard assumption. Sweat beading at her brow, face pale with nausea.; it wasn't any easier on Cora just because she had a lightsaber and the training of a Jedi Master— there existed a first for everything, and much like the stress of a first exam or the uncertainty of a first date, one's very first Sith hunt was bound to turn stomachs.

Beginning to bweep, the astromech had wanted to provide some words of encouragement. Cora, however—

HURK.

...had decided otherwise. Recoiling from the froth and bile that had splashed along the upper casing of his flat head, BB-610 paused, a metallic grunt leaving his voicebox as a tool-bay disk swiftly slid a compartment open, internal nozzle promptly rising to spray a healthy dose of cleaning fluid over his chassis.

As embarrassing and - quite honestly - disgusting as the act was for a droid that prided himself on routine upkeep and sparkling perfection, he could hardly hold it against her. It was nerve-wracking, to know you were going against someone that wouldn't hesitate to slaughter you. Valery was incredible; talented, compassionate, she embodied the light just as much as her adversary embodied the dark that rooted itself in the evil of all living things. But it was clear that her allies were less than prepared for what she had planned.

But BB-610 needed to do this. He needed to be reminded of what the Sith represented after having grown so desensitized to their cause after years of servitude. It was a necessary evil to face his fears, so he could finally get the closure he craved to completely sever his ties with the people he had once called his friends.

Even as a droid, he could feel the lush grass dying around him. Diseased, wilting, crumbling to dust faster and faster as they awaited their monster. Lifeform scanner retracted, his array of photoreceptors kept clear vigilance on all sides.

As he slowly inched closer behind Cora's legs, he whined, trying to keep his trembling to a minimum.

 

[Thelma Goth]

Tags: Anja Doreva Silas Westgard​

"But you know, don't you?"

Thelma stayed quiet, watching the woman warily. The last time she had been in a duel, she had lost a hand. Hopefully she wouldn't lose any more limbs here.

A blast of energy sent Silas flying. Thelma reached out with the Force to try and cushion the impact, but the woman was upon her, striking with an amethyst blade. It was obvious that the woman was testing her defenses, trying to find a weakness or a vulnerability she might exploit.

Thelma didn't stay on the defensive for long. With a few powerful blows meant to throw the woman off her, the little vampiress launched into an aggressive Ataru assault, full of flexibility and acrobatics. At the same time, her movements were overly-cautious. It was clear that she lacked experience and was trying to hide her faults.

Silas came shortly afterward, flinging debris at the woman to distract her as he rejoined the duel. With him fighting at her side Thelma grew more confident, lashing out with greater ferocity.