Gods of War | CIS Dominion of Rugosa {Golden Crusade}

[Asaraa Vaashe]

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Location: Rugosa

Objective: Save everyone, don't fail this time

Tagging: [member="Kaden Farr"] | [member="Daisy Americus"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

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The Jedi glanced down at her hands, at the trembling limbs that she was holding in place through sheer force of will, she knew she could probably stay back to help with the healing, to triage those that needed it, but if she was honest she wasn't entirely sure how much help she'd really be. Shaking hands were hardly the most conducive to getting the job done, to helping to heal someone, she was more likely to hurt someone than help them and that was the last thing she wanted. Fingers tightened around her blade, the weapon solid, heavy in her grasp, something she could take comfort in, despite everything else the sword was strong and that was all she needed really right? "Well then, lead the way," if she couldn't heal then buying the healers time was the best option, time to get the injured on their feet, to get them out of there.

The Jedi hadn't come here to face an overwhelming battle again, she thought she'd done that once and that was more than enough for her thank you very much. But, the truth of the matter was if there were people in front of her, people who needed her help she couldn't turn her back on them and walk away no matter what state she was in. If she'd been lying on those benches she'd still be getting up, to join in the fight, to help defend those that couldn't defend themselves. A smile curled up her lips as she took a step forward, it seems like it was going to take dying, or almost dying twice for her to realise it, but that was her Jedi path, not to be a sword smiting her opponents, not hte healer or the diplomat. She was the shield that would stand between the innocents and those that would harm them, the shield that wouldn't be broken but would strike back with a vengeance.

Asaraa closed her eyes for a moment, sucking in a deep breath before she opened herself up to the force again, pulling at the energy field that surrounded her, that familiar energy that was a part of her, that energy that she'd been holding off touching and using after Azure. One that she couldn't afford to ignore any longer. Agony seared through her body, the girl's body stiffening for that short moment as the miasma of pain surrounded her, her connection to the force still raw, the flow of energy through it setting her nerves afire as she took a step forward, and then another, spinning around to face the others as she lit up in the force, a beacon of light as the energy she'd sucked in seemed to leak out of her pores, a beacon of light as she smiled at hte others. "So we just have to buy time then, no problem. And another step, "If we stop them all that should do it right?"

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Wearing: Armor | Pathfinder Boots | The Forgemaster's Ring | Ring of Stasis | Sofitor
Wielding: 10 Nozhi Blades | 10 Czerka knives | 2 Nastirci Combat Knives | Copero's Wail | Fire and Smoke (lightsabers) | Combat Gauntlets | Knight Obsidian Sword | 2 TOTT-001 Arc Light Blaster | 2 Dissuader K-30 Pistols with Glitter Bullets
Tags: [member="Kaden Farr"] [member="Asaraa Vaashe"]

As [member="Asaraa Vaashe"] joined them, Scherezade smiled and waved to the pink haired girl. They had met each other a hand full of times when Scherezade had come to Silver space because of Josh, and this was the first time they did so in what may soon become Confederate space. She remembered the Jedi's brief Battle Meditation above Azure, and coupled with the fact that she'd been trained by Josh, meant they had a strong person joining their little group.

The plan was simple. Let other people do the actual evacuating thing while they took care of enemies who tried to break through and make sure they had no one to evacuate. She gave the Jedi a small grin before all three of them turned to head into the danger zone.

But when the Jedi began to light herself up, Scherezade instinctively went sideways, putting distance between the two. Her body wasn't hurting yet, but she knew that if the Jedi decided to pull Force Light off, the Blood Hound would be in agony within moments unless there was enough distance between them. The one dumb weakness that came with her special powers, and she still had to figure out a way to shield from it.

Good thing then that there were enough enemies for both of them to work on without needing to get too close to each other.

Scherezade rushed forward, opening the gap between her and Asaraa on one hand, but leaping straight into a platoon of advancing enemies. They were, she assumed, nothing but grunts, since who the heck would advance so openly. But she didn't care. She didn't even care who they were fighting. She was just there to kill them off and call it a day, and fighting a squad on this planet had merged and blended and was no different from an enemy squad anywhere else. The hundreds of missions she had been on all became a blur of one and she screamed, the first volley of bullets and shots fired at her bouncing off her armor.

She had over a dozen blades on her body, some of them in open view and others completely concealed. While the shots continued to rain on her though, she ignored them all.

Collecting the Force around her and raising it, she began to work; the grunts all smelled warm blooded. Human or close enough to it. And she called them, called their blood. Normally, she preferred to play with it and take her time, but she already knew that time was a borrowed thing. Her armor was great but it would not stand forever like that.

And as quickly as she could, she called the blood. The soldiers around her began to scream, some of them dropping their weapons. They were sufficiently covered, both body and heads; there would no human blood fountain that day. But as they began to drop one by one, the Blood Hound grinned. She knew that endless pints of blood would come gushing out the moment someone attempted to strip them of their armor, whether to loot or to examine.

"How are you two holding up?" she yelled across the battle field as she turned around to look at [member="Kaden Farr"] and [member="Asaraa Vaashe"].

 

[Madalena Antares]

Location: Comm Station #3, FOB Calypso
Wearing: Obsidian Strike Armor
Wielding: Dyntech Power Staff | Yrkaa Sidearm | Meymad
Tags: [member="Razelle Breuner"] | [member="ToKola Bakari"]
Potentially Affected by Battle Meditation: [member="ToKola Bakari"] [member="Voph"] @A'Runda [member="Kaden Farr"] [member="Tiria Reinhart"] [member="Keva"] [member="Asaraa Vaashe"] [member="Faye Malvern"] [member="Safira Varad"] [member="Darth Tacitus"] + Any Force Sensitives I may have missed

She could feel them all. Razelle, who was still in the same room with her. Her sister, calling her blood powers. Her other half, fighting. So many others, even ones that were not Force Sensitive, all popping up on her mental radar, little colored dots inside her mind. It was a choice. She had begun all wrong, looking only for those who could use the Force, but now that she realized she could have had them all, she also knew it was too late. Her power, in that moment, was not anywhere near to infinite. Those of the CDF and others who lacked Force Control would have to do without her being capable of boosting them.

But they were the Confederacy. They would fight, and give it their all, and they would win. There had not been any other choice in years. There would not be any other choice now.

She found [member="Alkor Centaris"], about to touch the ground. Smiling, she channeled more of the Force into the Battle Meditation, hoping he would not deny the boost she was offering.

She found [member="ToKola Bakari"] again and smiled as she heard him thank her, finding the power required to channel even more energy into it. They were going to see this through. And when it was over they were going to rest on either his or her ship and tune the rest of the 'verse out for a few days. He would fight, and she would help, and they would go home together after that.

She found [member="Faye Malvern"], which almost broke her concentration. If she was there… No, she could not think in that direction. She would ask the questions later, when the time was right. But for now, she granted her more as well. She found [member="Voph"], and smiled.

There were others too. She found them – all of them.

Fight, Madalena channeled into the Battle Meditaiton, fight, and live.

There was no other choice.

 

[ToKola Bakari]

Objective: Fight | Tag: [member="Thalliesin Bard"] [member="Voph"] [member="Tiria Reinhart"] [member="Kiff Brayde"]n [member="Madalena Antares"]| Post: IV

The smoke that dusted over the cavern was more than enough to limit To'Kola's vision. It had long since filled his mouth and lungs, to the point where every breath succeeded in shifting his discomfort. He had successfully sealed the Warmasters from his own retreating forces, which meant they would have time, hopefully enough time to escape the FOB. Of course, that meant there was a new reality to face. He was trapped.

The man took a step back, realizing there was only a few meters behind him before he ran into the wall of rubble he had conjured. The War Marshal glanced back for a brief moment before briefly flourishing his War Spear in his hand. The first of the War Masters to step forward may have expected To'Kola to be weakened by now, perhaps by his exertion in The Force or even the wounds he had sustained. Rather than greet a weakened man, he was met with speed and strength. The powers that Madalena had accessed were powerful and filled the man with strength and stamina once again.

He flew forward, his fist was tight and clenched as it slammed into the warrior's neck. To'Kola could feel the man's windpipe shatter underneath the blow. The warrior fell to a knee, just as To'Kola's war spear flew across his neck. A warm spray of blood came across To'Kola's legs as he looked to those warriors still charging for him. They seemed angered, or perhaps they had identified To'Kola as their only true enemy now that he had sealed away his allies. The first man to charge brandished a Vibrosword, aiming to carve off To'Kola's arm. The Sandali warrior shifted to the side, allowing the Vibroblade to fly past his chest while his spear lunged forward. It found home, the tip of the weapon piercing the man's helmet just enough to meet the fleshy eyes beneath.

With a violent twist, the spear burrowed deeper as To'Kola yelled out. The man's body shivered and convulsed violently before To'Kola brought his foot forward in a hard slam. The man flew off of his blade, slamming back in the ground, just as dead as the others.

The sound of blaster fire could be heard, but oddly enough To'Kola never saw a bolt. His eyes flickered, faltering as he looked up. The warriors were falling back from him, retreating. No, regrouping. At the center of their line was a warrior, larger than most of the others. His weapon, some odd slugthrower, was aimed at To'Kola. That was when he felt it.

The warm blood that dripped from his chest fell into his hand, it was slick and shined in the Dom light. He looked down and he could see where the slugthrower round had pierced his chest. He coughed and there was more blood. It fell onto his chin and he felt his energy abandon him. The sound of metal hitting the floor was all that could be heard. His Warspear had been dropped, he couldn't pick it up, he couldn't move.

When he looked up, his eyes befell a frightful sight. The Warmaster had lined up, their rifles aimed at the man with a solemn silence. The soft row of clicks could be heard as To'Kola looked to the men who faced him. The one in the center, the one who had shot him.

"Damn y-"

The fire drowned out his words, the storm of metal and fire ripped through his body, and the Gods claimed his thoughts. Bone and skin was torn from his body as if it had not been his. The pain that ripped through him was quickly replaced with numbness. There was no pain or sound, there was only him. He had fallen to his knees, with a body riddled in wounds and quickly losing its blood. Again, he saw the man before him, this golden warrior who had a thick golden braid of hair hanging from under his helmet. He said nothing, instead he pulled a dagger from his waist, standing over the War Marshal. To'Kola would speak, but his lungs had been shattered and were filling with his own blood. He could not breath, let alone speak.

Still, he could do one final thing.

His mind reached out through the Force, a single, miniscule pulse that only one person would feel. It would go to her as a final goodbye, and perhaps a final reality.

'I'm sorry, my Yua.'

No sooner than the words were thought, his chest caved in from the pressure of the golden dagger that slammed into it. He gasped, pain and anguish overtook him.

It was so dark and cold. It was over.

 

[Thalliesin Bard]

Thalliesin felt like someone had thrown him into a wall...Oh yeah, that happened.​

"Ow...that did not go to plan."​

Thalliesin squinted at the light...the light? wait a minute this isn't right there wasn't this much light before.​

He jumped up only to be pushed back down by a hairy arm. "Arrarrgghg.​

His eyes cleared.​

"Wait...Gorgona, Lotto! are you here? Where am I? What's going on?​

Lotto was in fact there, along with everyone else in the vanguard...most of whom were worse for wear.​

"Well I certainly hope I'm here...As for where we are...I'm not sure. I believe we're to the north of the FOB.​

Thalliesin looked to Theron who was missing several fingers on his left hand.​

"Sir...Things fell apart after you were taken down If it hadn't been for Rekon we wouldn't have made it out alive.​

Rekon gave a unintentionally cute bow "Yub nubba gunga"​

"He found a way out of the FOB we owe him a debt"​

"Well then, he shall be thrown a feast in honor of this great service when we get home"​

Thalliesin looked around at his Vanguard they survived, For now. who knew what awaited them.​

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[Alkor Centaris]

All the world is connected. The Galaxy, near and far, present, past, and future: the Force binds it together and tethers people, places, and events. For some people, this is simply accepted as knowledge and given no further thought. For someone who could feel those connections, the events unfolding on Rugosa were horrific.

Alkor could feel the tide of battle crushing down on them. All around, the Warmasters choked an inferior force, applying their weight until the very foundation of the Confederates was cracked. He felt the impending dread- the helplessness that came with knowing what was about to happen, and the knowledge he was not fast enough, nor was he powerful enough, to stop it.

His eyes were wider than his lips for only an instant, but no sound escaped. [member="ToKola Bakari"] was a brilliant beacon around which the Confederate men had rallied. As with many leaders, he inspired hope, courage, and valor. Alkor saw the man who had placed him along the Knights Obsidian for only an instant before he was nothing more than dust and echoes.

Others lost a leader, a friend, a lover.

He looked on as the firmly tied knot that held everything together came undone.

In that moment, Alkor lost himself.

Hope. Horror. Loss. Victory. Defeat. All things that could have been, that now were, or would never be had turned to ash. They rained down like black tears around the Jen'jidai, who felt the Warmarshal's spirit quit the battlefield. His arm trembled, wreathed in blackness like spilled ink. It moved unbidden toward the blade at his back, and Alkor let loose a howl of rage, anguish, and devoid of all hope.

Sparks danced across his body, starting from the right. They crackled and hissed, but most sinister of all, they burned a bloody crimson. The blade creaked and hissed for a moment as it extended to its true form, and with his spear now in hand, Alkor responded the only way he had left.

The seal... is broken.

...and darkness falls.

 

[Kaden Farr]

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w. [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Asaraa Vaashe"] | [member="Daisy Americus"]​

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Kaden advanced the position attempting to create a fair amount of distance between the evacuees and the assailants. His pistols led with a volley of slugs toward the armored troopers which were advancing their position. They did not need to kill the enemy, yes some were going to have to die, but not all of them had to. The Jedi was correct. they only needed to stop the enemy from advancing, or to delay them long enough that the able bodied civilians could be evacuated. Those in triage, they would be evacuated as they could be, so they would have to buy them extra time.

That was when Kaden heard the screams. His head turned and looked on as Scherezade seemed to be doing something to the troopers which was unnatural. The dark side seemed to be thick around him as she did whatever it was she was doing. The mandalorian finally turned away and concentrated his efforts on the forces which were coming his way. Kaden fired on them with everything he had hoping the Jedi would not be upset with the sheer amount of death which was occurring around all of them.

The first three ships were full and taking off. Kaden celebrated with a quick fist pump and looked over to the Jedi, and the Scherezade.

"That's the first three, let's keep going."

 

[Bedrovelse Hevn]

Objective: Save the stragglers, Live to fight another day.

The poor bastards. Every one of these forsaken souls was left unprepared and ill equipped for the hammer to fall on Rugosa. The fortress gave them that false sense of safety that Hevn had threw to the wind long ago. For every sword, there is a shield, but for every shield, there is an armor piercing bullet. This was the hollow point that brought the fortress to its knees. The Warmasters rained hell from above as their gilded soldiers marched through the rocks, ready to rumble with the Confederacy.

Hevn thought little of most adversaries he encountered in the universe. Some strange band of mercenaries or crusaders weren’t going to convince him otherwise. With a head full of pride and a heart full of power he rushed to the walls. His foresight was sorely lacking as the soldiers began to annihilate the ones surrounding him. Slowly but surely the hopelessness spread like a virus until men were outright turning tail to flee. The Warmasters were no match for Bedrovelse man to man, but the flanks around Hevn began to break down, vanishing under golden boots tromping their corpses into mulch.

“To the caverns! Funnel them in!.” He shouted desperately over the screams of the dying, and the pound of the war machine closing fast around them. His heavy blasters punched armor over and over, singing for blood with each squeeze of the trigger. A few stray shots found an eye ball or two, but many of them landed without any effect whatsoever. They did not halt as they were punched by the strongest pistol in the armory. They did not stall for their dead or wounded. They pushed forward relentlessly.

Rallying at the mouth of the tunnels was about as much Order as he could manage before the terrified fled aimlessly into them. It was all he could do to focus on deterring the Warmasters advance. As the gas canisters on his blasters empty, he hurls them into the face of a charging, golden giant, making him blink long enough for Hevn to draw his slug throwers.

A series of loud cracks echo against the tunnel walls as he empties every chamber on the hand cannons. The slugs tried with all their might to dig into the Warmasters and eat their insides, but folded like paper against their armor and clanked to the ground as uselessly as his blasters. Hevn grew angry with the futility, and whipped the pair into another face, dropping the creature with a well place shot to the eye.

A few blaster shots ring over his shoulders, causing his attention to snap back. Fear was etched on the dead man’s face. Desperation fills his voice, “FLY YOU FOOLS! RUN!” His warning echoed, gaining in severity with each time in banked off the tunnel walls. The Warmasters were flooding the tunnel. Shoulder to shoulder strangling the way ahead. Darkness was the only hope they had. The few seconds Hevn spent refusing assistance, was the first moment his guard had been down.

He skids toward the brave few who tried to stand behind him. All three hundred pounds of Hevn launched by a boot to the lower back. A hailstorm or blaster fire follows. The terror of their fallen Knight would be painted on their faces forever. Something about their vacant eyes, mouths frozen in a gasp, and the blood pooling around their shattered bodies awakened him.

Soldiers knew the cost of war. That didn’t make their lives mean any less when taken. They stood by his side, despite all odds, despite all logic, even ignoring his command to buy him another breath. Hevn would give every cursed breath bestowed upon him to raise them from the dead. To send them home to their families to love and be loved. Hevn was meant to rot with the worms to the galaxy. He deserved nothing, took everything, and yet the price of it all dispersed around him. This was how it was meant to end. Just as he lived. Alone.

Hevn’s armor plating was falling into ruin. In the time it took him to rise they had swallowed him up, and surrounded him. They had forsaken their blasters in lieu of beating him with swords and strikes of fist and foot. As he was lifted by the throat, he felt his form rattle off the cavern wall like a broken toy as the shattered remains of his metal husk fell to pieces around him.

His weary fingers wrap around Kraytos. The dragons mouth snaps open and his white blade screams to life. He activates a secondary function, employed by Alkor. A burst of would be lightning races around the blade. With every flailing wave of the pearly white another Warmaster fell, reeling from electrocution. At first the enemy leaped full force into the fray, before an officer among them held the line back. It was clear everything the saber touched was dying, and Hevn charges into them. Frantically he heaves for breath, swinging at anything in arms reach, until his seconds ran out. His blade overheats with a crispy sizzle, and he throws it along with the Tears of Hevn into the feet of the golden warriors.

There was pain still coursing through the men seizing on the ground. Hevn draws on it, drinking it in, and he wanted MORE. What he can steal from the dying bodies is focused on the lightsaber hilts. He compresses and compounds the energy until each of the three hilts is glowing. Hevn reaches out and closes his fist quickly as they peak in energy, causing them to explode with Force Combustion. The make shift grenades throw golden men away, into walls, into the ceiling, and throw scrap in every direction. Some of it found gaps in Warmaster armor. Some of it lodged itself into Hevn’s body. Smoke and debris paint his face black as blood weeps from wounds where fractured metal punched into him.

Hevn’s staggers backward down the tunnel, tripping over a fallen Warmaster. His plan failed. The tunnel did not collapse and destroy those fool enough to walk into his trap. It had failed completely.

Total failure had only ever encompassed him once. The battle for Harnaiden against Lahash de Fortia. Sure Hevn had won the battle, but at a toll to this day he hadn’t yet let go of. Rhea. Seeing Rhea’s mutilated body scarred him forever as the cost of failure. I’m not fighting harder, faster, stronger than he ever had. His intellect could carry this fight no longer. It was time to turn loose.

Hevn steps into his little room of monsters. It was time for the red door. Throwing it open, an ocean of blood swallows him in, drowning him in wrath. It’s venom strikes his heart, and begins to bleed out. Every muscle tenses with its exposure. Every fiber of his mind adapting until all functions were directed towards murder.

Phantasmagoria may as well have jumped into his hand, it’s excitement is so palpable. A longing for blood and death consumes Hevn as he draws it into a two handed guard. There was so much blood to spill. So many souls to claim.....or.....convert. Hevn chooses control over madness, and converts his boundless fury into absolute dominion.

With Plaga’s Gauntlet in his left hand, and Phantasmagoria in his right, he summons every ounce of his power. Every lurking dreg scrapes and summoned for the final effort. Hevn’s eyes pool with darkness that bleeds down his face and neck as his veins flex with an inky bile filling them.

‘Fanged God, if you can hear me, I need you now.’

Hevn didn’t believe in Gods other than himself. He made a living of bringing them low enough to grovel and fade beneath the heel of his boot. So when something answered, he hardly knew what to do. It was like a planet fell on him, and his knees buckled at the imaginary weight. His force senses opened and expanded into the infinite. When he opened his eyes, he saw far beyond death, he saw and heard all things across every planet in every galaxy. It did not overwhelm him. Surprisingly he was still very much present despite the growing expanse of his reach and power.

The sword and qixoni gem on the gauntlet glow blood red bright. His command booms across the realm of death, ripping the Warmaster souls back from every scattered corner of the realms beyond. All dead within his sight were Hevn’s to command. “RISE MY DEMONS!”

Shadows darker than the black of the tunnel swarmed around Hevn, and began to occupy the corpses of the Warmasters. They dove into the downed bodies, squeezing into whatever open wound they could slide through. The Warmasters were conscious, agonized at being brought back, and compelled by a force beyond their will. “ATTACK!” Hevn’s roar booms through the tunnel as the smoky golden warriors rise. They turn their backs to him, and the soul of ringing steel told him they had begun to combat their own. “THE NIGHTFATHER WILL HAVE THIS DAY! FOR THE FANGED GOD!”

With the raising of his hand, Spears of Midnight Black hover over each finger of the Gauntlet. An entire volley of them. A feat beyond anything he’d every accomplished on top of raising the squadron of undead Warmasters. The Fanged God had heeded his call. The spears found the hearts of his living enemies with each flick of his wrist, toppling over impaled in the heart by his will. Hevn emerges from the tunnel possessed by a greater power than he’d ever known. That power was pushing his minions to war. Ignoring death with every stroke brought down upon them, terrorizing and claiming the lives of their kin. Every one that fell fed Hevn’s power, and raised them back up to be his sinister puppets.

Battered and bloody Bedrovelse Hevn emerges triumphant. This is his masterpiece.

 

[Asaraa Vaashe]

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Location: Rugosa

Objective: Save everyone, don't fail this time

Tagging: [member="Kaden Farr"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

She'd always known that the CIS were different from the SJO in how they approached a situation, that her fellow defenders were at their core Sith, with all the attendant differences that entailed. But this was just wrong. The pink-haired Jedi could only stare in horror as the Sithling did something with the force, reaching out to those opponents who surrounded her and pulled and twisted at them, taking that natural energy and twist it into something that should never have existed. She could feel the taint in the force here, the darkness she'd buried within her raising it's head, the serpent's whisper of the memories weaving around her mind. It would be so easy to replicate that power, to dance through the crowd of figures charging at them. It would be so easy to take them all, she just had to reach for it...but it was wrong.

Asaraa knew that sometimes you had to kill, sometimes there was no choice but to kill or be killed, Amon had made that clear when he'd saved her from being brained by a crowd and almost torn to pieces. But there was a world of difference between facing a crowd and what the Sithling was doing to her opponents. She could hear the shots of Kaden Farr's blasters as he engaged the enemies closing on them. That was fair, different, a fair fight. But...her eyes danced back to the brunette, this though....this was wrong. Crystal blue eyes flicked over to the oncoming crowd, it was like a premonition, she could see them dancing in agony, falling still, statues painted in blood and agony.

"No."

The word was quiet, barely a whisper, the single word cutting through the sounds of blasters and combat, carried on the wings of the force. She took a step forward, weapons forgotten as she reached for the well of the force she'd gathered within herself, reaching out through the force, the energy dancing at her fingertips. Surging out away from her, a wave that seemed to grow in strength, in intensity as it travelled, picking up the detritus and debris around them into a maelstrom of force that cut through the oncoming crowd, throwing them around, leaving them battered and bruised as the girl slumped down to her knees, sucking a pained breath into her body as she stared up at them. If they were down, on the ground then maybe, maybe no-one else had to die.

 

[Tiria Reinhart]

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FOB Calypso | Defend, Hunt, & Survive​

[member="ToKola Bakari"] | [member="Voph"] | @A'Runda | [member="Kiff Brayde"] | [member="Keva"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"] | Open​

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Commando Reinhart had been whipped aside, cast into a wall as the heart of their offensive drove itself toward the War Marshall himself. Droplets of blood burst from Tiria's lips before she crumpled to the ground. Even with the Battle Meditation there were too many of the vile Crusaders to contend with alone. Or even with one other. In truth, as the Commando forced her upper body up, back against the wall with the choking smoke all around, the only reason she was probably still alive was because they were after ToKola. Had she known it was him trapped on the front line Tiria wouldn't have come alone; but all she'd senses was someone still lingered and her plan had been to move swiftly through the field. It could hardly be said to have gone according to plan.

The crack of a slugthrower drew the burnt golden gaze of the Commando cast to one side. It was difficult to see through the haze, but Tiria could make out more than enough.

Enough to know there wasn't anything she could do as the Golden Crusade advanced on the grievously wounded warrior; a man that wouldn't just sit there waiting for death if it was still physically possible for him to take his enemy with him. Watching them slaughter such a valiant fighter and commander did not draw forth a cry of rage or disbelief, the Hive had felt all this many times before in many different bodies. It was, however, a terrible loss. Not only for the Knights Obsidian, but for Tiria and the Hive personally. Such immense potential cut short because of some nameless horde driven toward some unspeakable purpose.

Teeth clenched, the Commando rolled out into the opposing hallway than the one she'd entered through. As she forced herself to her feet with pain shooting through her body from the battered and bruised condition, she cast her arm up toward the ceiling. A crack followed a cylinder impaling itself into the rock overhead. With a sharp inhale, Tiria began to move faster down the hall with nothing left in the atrium to keep her any longer.

Suddenly a fountain of pain erupted in her side as a slug pinged out from behind. Crusaders had apparently remembered the less important or interesting creature that had relocated itself. Tiria clenched her teeth anew before giving the detonator a good tug. Explosions echoed from both sides of the execution site as shaped charges collapsed the side tunnels to further impair movement the movement of the beasts.

As she hobbled up on a duct overhead that'd been shoved open, a hand reached down from above. Tiria crouched, and gathered all the strength still in her to launch upward and catch the extended limb. A grunt followed the jerk from gravity trying to pull her back to the floor below.

The soldier that barely fit in the duct slowly helped haul the woman within. "The War Marshal?" It was difficult to miss the man hadn't accompanied her to one of the escape routes.

Tiria's golden eyes lifted to stare at the man without uttering a word. Large pieces of her armor had been splintered or broken clean of her body with numerous cuts and bruises scattered over what flesh had been exposed to the elements. Blood still covered her face and a good amount of her torso. Did it really need said what had happened?

After a moment his eyes fell back to the tunnel below. "We need to get back to the group." With that he balled up to turn around and begin the crawl back the way they'd come.

The sealing charge planted in the duct would help seal it after them, not that the Crusaders would fit. Better safe than sorry if they had some strange beast they'd yet to release.

After a few minutes the two of them dropped out on the other side of the barrier the War Marshal had erected. A new spattering of blood followed her feet hitting the ground. One of the soldiers she'd enlisted for the foolish rescue of 'one' of their own took up the Commando's arm allowing her to cradle the slug-wound with her other hand. "Blow the tunnels," Tiria ordered those left behind. "Then let's join the rest. Time we got out here, and began planning how to repay the favor."

She'd left the survivors she'd found behind so they didn't get themselves killed. In the meantime they'd grabbed whatever they could to rig up an unwelcome party for their visitors. Let them dig their way through the rubble to find an empty base. The Crusaders might have slain the War Marshal, but they'd fallen far short of ending the Confederacy, the Defense Force, or the Dauntless. And they would pay for every drop of blood this day.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Wearing: Armor | Pathfinder Boots | The Forgemaster's Ring | Ring of Stasis | Sofitor
Wielding: 10 Nozhi Blades | 10 Czerka knives | 2 Nastirci Combat Knives | Copero's Wail | Fire and Smoke (lightsabers) | Combat Gauntlets | Knight Obsidian Sword | 2 TOTT-001 Arc Light Blaster | 2 Dissuader K-30 Pistols with Glitter Bullets
Tags: [member="Kaden Farr"] [member="Asaraa Vaashe"]

Three evacuation ships were safe and off the planet. Scherezade nodded, cursing internally that this was what their focus was supposed to be on. Not the killing. The letting others escape. It was maddening. Had it not been for the fact that she knew she would be going into Sith territory soon to give them aid, she would have raged. But the upcoming opportunity to make an entire bleed served enough to calm her thirst for blood down… slightly.

Seeing the Jedi flatten their enemies to the ground brought a smirk to her face though. It was sweet, how the genuine care for life protected even that which deserved to be put out. She knew what they were taught at the Rest, had attempted to convince Josh more than once that there was no shame in letting them know that there was sometimes nothing to have qualms about when using brutality. They had not found a common ground over that though. Sometimes Scherezade wandered, if every Jedi had a mental break down written into their future because of that. No one could remain compassionate towards those who tried to kill them forever without having at least one savagely brutal event. No one. Not even Jedi.

Turning back to more upcoming opposing forces, the Blood Hound smiled again. This time, the endless amount of blades that were upon her body slid out, over a dozen of them hanging in the air, each controlled individually as the pointy ends spun around before finally directing themselves at the enemy. Almost every one of them had different abilities, different things they could do. It didn't even matter that some of them couldn't pierce through decent armor at all – they had other ways of causing damage.

She ran forward again, her knives with her. In her hands were her lightsaber, the green light of them springing to life, making the glow of her eyes even more noticeable in the darkness that she brought with her. Her knives danced, slashing and stabbing, poking and cutting. The enemy did not stand a chance. The only thing that brought her to a stop was when one of them, and by the Force she did not know how he had done it, managed to push her hard enough so that she flew back twenty feet before landing on the ground, the control of her knives ending as they all dropped to the floor.

Scherezade laughed, laying on the ground for a moment before realizing that her lightsabers had fallen a few feet earlier as well.

From the corner of her eye, she could see another evacuation ship departing. Good. They were doing their job. But there was no time to think it more before the same enemy stepped forward and punched her again, sending her flying a few more feet backwards, landing between [member="Kaden Farr"] and [member="Asaraa Vaashe"].

"Do it again, do it again!" she encouraged him as she folded her arms behind her head, lying there as though they were on a beach resort on Spira, smiling at her two combat partners.

 

[Madalena Antares]

Location: Comm Station #3, FOB Calypso
Wearing: Obsidian Strike Armor
Wielding: Dyntech Power Staff | Yrkaa Sidearm | Meymad
Tags: [member="Razelle Breuner"] | [member="ToKola Bakari"]
Potentially Affected by Battle Meditation: [member="ToKola Bakari"] Voph @A'Runda [member="Kaden Farr"] [member="Tiria Reinhart"] [member="Keva"] [member="Asaraa Vaashe"] [member="Faye Malvern"] [member="Safira Varad"] [member="Darth Tacitus"] [member="Bedrovelse Hevn"] + Any Force Sensitives I may have missed

Wrong. Everything was wrong. She was still there, still connected to the web that made up the entire force of the Confederacy, but things were not going according to plan. She could feel them, many of them, retreating. In all her time with the Confederacy, not once could she remember such a giant retreat, such genuine fear for lives. It was almost unnatural. And yet retreat was the lesser evil. It was a fight, a fight for survival. Retreat, live to see another day in which you could fight. It was better than losing their people for nothing.

But one of them… "No…" Madalena whispered, her eyes still closed, still clinging to the bonds that connected her to everyone. Why?! Why was he still there when his men retreated?! She wanted to reach out to him, to yell at him to go join his troops, to not stay there, but she could not – while Madalena had not the ability to see everything through his eyes there and then, she felt it.

"No!" she said a little louder, knowing, feeling the pain that that was coursing through ToKola's body though his own mind had not yet registered it. He had to get out! He had to leave!

In a complete and utter state of panic, Madalena fought, fought to channel more, to give him a stronger push, to find even the smallest of things that would give him an edge, that would make sure he came back alive! But he… His body…

The sounds that were coming out of Madalena in that room right there and then were those of a wounded animal. Nothing of this was normal. Even without the Battle Meld, ToKola and Madalena were connected, bonded even, in more ways than one; he was her other half, and she was his. She couldn't feel his pain directly, though she could feel that it was happening, though she could even feel that he was not feeling it. Their bond, their link, it worked in so many different ways that she could not even put half of it into specific words.

And then came the final words.

I'm sorry, my Yua.

She felt it. She felt it, through the Force. Through the Battle Meditation. Through every single bond. Like the flame of a candle, ToKola's life was snuffed out. One moment he was there, and the other gone. For half a moment she pondered, expecting that – no, there it was. Comprehension began to set in. Not just of the mind, but of the soul.

Madalena screamed. The pain shot through her body, yanking on her inner organs, on her heart, on her very soul. There was nothing human about her screams, nothing that resembled a living, breathing, thinking person at all. She fell to the ground as the pain coursed through her, taking over her limbs bit by bit.

To all those that were connected to her through the Battle Meditation, she knew, they would feel it too. The pain that now danced inside of her, that took her over, would shoot out to them as well. This was not pain that could be contained within the chest of one woman.

This was… This was…

Madalena fell to the ground as the final scream erupted from her. This one was aided by the Force, causing the very walls of the Fob to shake and threaten to shatter. There was no torture greater than this, no pain that would ever harm her more. She could not keep it in. For once, her emotions ran raw, uncontrolled, unmanageable, and they would all know it, they would all feel it. Every last ounce of breath, of passion, of creation, of existence, snuffed out in that one single moment. I'm sorry, my Yua.

Her eyes closed as the scream silenced. My Lochem…

A moment later, there was nothing on the floor but a mess of a woman, curled into a fetus position, knocked coldly unconscious.

 

[Kaden Farr]

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w. [member="Daisy Americus"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Asaraa Vaashe"]​

​

Four ships now, but not without cost. They were being overwhelmed, and the toll it was taking on all their abilities was something Kaden had never experienced before. This was not crushing defeat the CIS was to dishing out to their enemies. They were losing. LOSING. Kaden found himself worried that for the first time since he returned from the Netherworld that he might end up going back. The thought did not use to scare him. For a time after returning, Kaden had nothing to lose, but now, Kaden had everything to lose. Kaden had friends, but most important he had [member="Daisy Americus"]. He was not supposed to have fallen in love again. Selene had given him life to take revenge, and every time an opportunity for revenge was presented, Kaden seemed to fail to capitalize. Where Kaden had succeeded was the one area he had not looked to. Kaden found love, and quite by accident.

Kaden refused to die, and he refused to allow their position to be overrun.

His eyes fell to the Jedi with pink hair. She was over extending herself to stop the enemy.

"I know you want to avoid killing as much as possible, but you also must preserve your energy. We cannot fall until every one of these ships is back in the air, and even then I forbid you from falling. Do what you must to be alive and back on the drop ship with this is over."

Scherezade came landing almost between them, Kaden clearly startled by the strength which came from the man that had sent her flying. Peering through his helmet, Kaden knew this was going to be a difficult enemy to take out in hand to hand combat. Concentrating through the force, Kaden released a wave of force energy as the man drew closer. It was time for him to see what it felt like to be sent flying. Scherezade seemed to be enjoying this, almost as though she was playing. The battlefield was no place to play, it was a place for efficiency.

The sound of two more engines charging up caused Kaden to turn his head. That made six in the air now, with three more left to go.

"Stop playing with him," Kaden said as he turned his head to Scherezade. "Three more to go. Finish him and fall back to protect the remaining ships."

Kaden sighed as it appeared the enemy seemed to just keep coming. It only took the briefest of moments, but Kaden used the HUD in his helmet to send a recorded message to [member="Daisy Americus"].

"I need to be with you when this is over... I... need..."

The message was cut short as the enemy continued their attack.

 

[Kyyrk]

LOCATION: FOB Calypso​

STATUS: Alive​

OBJECTIVE: Hold out for Reinforcements​

Tags: @To'Kola Bakari | [member="Kiff Brayde"] | [member="Tiria Reinhart"] | @A'Runda | [member="Madalena Antares"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"]​

​

It had worked, for all that such a thing was worth now. The incantation had made Voph an enticing target, and the Force was shimmering around him in a protective ward. The fight was grueling. But the line held. Barely. Voph was using every skill, every trick he knew, letting his anger fuel him. Voph called upon the Force as much as he did his blade, unleashing withering miasmas and crushing assaults. But the soldiers around him were beginning to fall. He was the only one left. He felt fear, for the slightest second. Fear that this was the end. Fear that he'd not done enough. Fear that he'd never see his friend again.

But then, as from a distance, he felt it. The web of the Battle Meditation shifted. To'Kola had fallen. And from a distance, Voph could feel the rage building. Madalena echoed the same feeling that Voph himself had felt many times. Too many times. He reeled under the headache caused by Madalena's outburst, but he could feel it calling to the burning pit within him. And as Madalena cried out, Voph cried too. An inhuman scream, like a caged beast finally loosed. The crusade paused as the walls began to tremble before Voph's scream. Lightning began to arc from him, as he succumbed to the one darkness he vowed only to call on in the most desperate of times.

Rage.

Rage like the galaxy had not seen. The Crusade redoubled their assault. But Voph was gone. He moved, faster than the Crusade could track, flinging his lightsaber before unleashing a barrage of lightning, spinning back to reclaim his fallen weapon, and crushing the armor of another Crusader with naught but the Force and sheer will. Voph's assault had changed. No longer was he holding the line. He was seeking vengeance. But the numbers were too great. As the rage slowly began to subside as the fighting continued, Voph began to fall back. He was the only one left. It was time for him to leave...

 

[Luca Donskoi]

[SIZE=12pt]

[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12pt]Location:[/SIZE][SIZE=12pt] Rugosa (FOB)[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12pt]Objective:[/SIZE][SIZE=12pt] Evacuate the Civilians[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12pt]Equipment:[/SIZE][SIZE=12pt] [/SIZE]Asheran Armorweave[SIZE=12pt] | [/SIZE]VT-Kinetic Impact Gel[SIZE=12pt] | [/SIZE]KC-95 "Ace of Spades" Blaster Pistol[SIZE=12pt] | [/SIZE]Lightsaber (purple blade) | Flight Suit (with Helmet and Gloves)​

[SIZE=12pt]Post:[/SIZE][SIZE=12pt] 1[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12pt]Tag(s): [/SIZE][SIZE=12pt]Anyone[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12pt]

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[/SIZE]​

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[SIZE=12pt]The moon had been blighted by war and death. A tide of malevolence threatening to take all who stood in its wake, but such circumstances were not new to those who march beneath the Confederacy’s banner. The men and women that bled loyalty to a cause in the face of utter and unrelenting peril. And even as they’d dug into their various footholds here, they’d not turned a shoulder from one of their greatest objectives upon their arrival here.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]The iconic blue hue of ion engines loomed overhead as transport after transport made their rounds, evacuating the denizens that had been unfortunate enough to be caught up within the unfolding travesty of war that had stricken them here. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]And there was a question that was being tested here. ‘What happens when an unstoppable force collides with an immovable object?’ Well so farm, nothing of note nor grandeur. Just the unruly bought of power against powering like the festering of an infected wound that defiantly stood against that which aimed to abolish it. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Alden had positioned himself at the lead of the next wave of transports to descend to the scarred surface below. Radiating beams of energized plasma streaked out around them in a chaotic spectacle or untamed brilliance. A living tapestry of art ever evolving in the limelight of death and destruction. A concerto of rhythmic crescendos accompanied by the darkest and gravest of minor keys. An eerie tune being composed by some kind of misogynistic being that reveled in the onslaught and pain of others. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]But that’s all life ever was, was it not? [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Alden’s lead transport touched down effortlessly, accompanied by the purring hiss of pistons as the landing gears absorbed any and all of the impact. Almost immediately the ramp descended from the main bay revealing a sanctuary of reprieve they had so desperately longed for.[/SIZE]

 

[Tiria Reinhart]

​

FOB Calypso | Defend, Hunt, & Survive​

[member="ToKola Bakari"] | [member="Voph"] | [member="Kiff Brayde"] | [member="Keva"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Madalena Antares"] | [member="Bedrovelse Hevn"] | [member="Alden Akaran"]​

​

"Fire."

A hail of six blaster fell upon golden heads. Three at a time with two blasters trained on the spot cried out over the radio earlier. Every shot a headshot from where the six men and women stood with rifles in hand. Their brows were pinched over the bridge of their noses. Each fixated on bringing a sudden and merciless end to the monsters that had come to take their base, killed their friends, and murdered their War Marshal. While their number was not enough to seek vengeance that day, it was more than enough to save whoever still lived and make sure they got to the extraction point.

Tiria propped herself up against the wall in the corridor outside of the room where the dead lay and the dying followed. At least the blood wasn't flowing freely down her leg any longer. Unfortunate the miraculous healing from earlier hadn't continued. More than likely it came from the same source as the soul-wrenching cry only Tiria had felt. Soldiers she'd rounded up likely had not any need for Madalena's blessing turned curse. How fortunate for them. ToKola would not have found peace in what lay beyond if those he'd sacrificed himself for got themselves killed thrown into a blind, murderous rage.

As for herself... It had been some time she last that disbelief and outrage had been felt. Maddening is what it was. What it had been. So long since they had all perished. The world had gone silent that day and only it had survived. Alone. Forgotten. Only ashen memories and ringing echoes of life that never faded. The pain had become... familiar now and did not claw at its heart and soul as it had. But it knew what this strange, unnamed source felt. The Overmind knew.

Unable to spare any unnecessary movement, especially unaided, Tiria tapped into the channel Voph had used before. "Time to go, High Marshal. There's much work to do."

With a pained sigh, she relaxed back against the wall waiting for him to emerge if the Crusaders could be so kind as to die. How many others would they find on their way out? Not enough. Not nearly enough.

 

[Kiff Brayde]

​

Tags: [member="To'Kola Bakari"] | [member="Voph"] [member="A'Runda"] | [member="Tiria Reinhart"] | [member="Keva"]​

​

The War Marshal was dead.

There was no other explanation. The sudden fury. The wordless cries echoing throughout the tunnels. The silent looks.

The War Marshal was dead.

Kiff had not known much of the man, but he had been a warrior, Kiff knew. Someone who knew how to fight, who actually stood a chance against the chitspawn that was the Crusaders.

The War Marshal was dead.

If a man like that had been vanquished, what chance did Kiff have?

Swallowing his fear, Kiff checked his heavy blaster pistol for scratches or any other indication of damage. As small as the High Marshal was, Kiff knew that whether or not his weapon was working properly meant life or death in these tunnels. For someone who took little part in actual combat, Kiff could feel his blood coursing red-hot through his veins. his pulse quicken, his vision tunnel in vengeance. Kiff had been lenient with those Crusaders at first, but if those bastards wanted to try and spite the Confederacy, Kiff was about to show them what it meant to serve in the Confederate Defense Force.

As he slowly walked towards the tunnels, a few soldiers looked at him wordlessly, but he could see their doubt, the fear in their eyes. They had every right to it, but that would not help them; only make them little more than free meals for the bastards awaiting them in the tunnels. But Kiff was determined not to let that happen. A righteous rage coursed through him, and Kiff found himself on top of an overturned crate, facing the rag tagged crowd of defense force soldiers. Some were bleeding from open wounds, some lacked pieces of armor, some lacked entire appendages. They were of all races, all sizes, all colors and from all backgrounds, but they had one thing in common; they had sworn their lives to the protection of the Confederacy.

"Ladies, Gentlemen," Kiff said uncertaintly. He was not one to make some rousing speech before battle. Such tactics were not his style; he much preferred to quip and make light-hearted jokes to lighten the tension. But as he looked at the dirty and worn faces of the soldiers that faced him, Kiff knew that he needed something more. And so he gave them something more. "Today we face an enemy like none before. They have powers beyond our comprehension, armor that seems impervious, physical capabilities that are literally otherworldly. This chitspawn has murdered our brothers and sisters, gloried in the carnage of our comrades, and seeks the destruction of everything we stand for, everything we fight for. They murdered our War Marshal, and dozens besides him. You have every cause to be afraid."

"But today is not the day for fear. There may come a time when the galaxy is dark and cold, where the light of the last star is fainter than a whisper. There may come a time when filth sweeps across the galaxy, purging worlds of life, love, and beauty. There may come a time when the courage of those sworn to protect their homes fails. But now is not that time. Now is not that time! " Kiff found himself shouting, and shouting for what he did not know. Such energy, such passion, such devotion; these things were strangers to the High Marshal, but as his speech filled the walls of the small hangar, he found his spirits lifted, the fire within rekindled. "Rise now, Confederates! Rise from the ashes and become legends! Fight for your homes, fight for your loved ones, fight for your freedom, for you shall never have a second chance. And if you need lay your life down, do so gladly. Glory to the victorious dead!"

The cry was taken up by the men and women who still remained, a cry that grew louder as more voices joined.

"Glory to the victorious dead!"

"Glory to the victorious dead!"

"GLORY TO THE VICTORIOUS DEAD!"

The cry turned from the rallying words into a wordless fury, a lash of emotion, vengeance, passion, and patriotism. Those same men and women who had been snivelling cravens were now emboldened to the point that they did not fear death. They welcomed it. The noise of the rallying Confederates shook the walls of the dusty channels as they began one last final charge, for life, for home for country. There might be a day when the courage of the Confederacy would fail. But today would not be dead. Kiff was with them, leading them, rallying them. They tore through the tunnels, rallying those that were falling back, those that had thought all hope was lost. Blasterfire echoed throughout the earthen chambers, and as the Confederates continued Kiff found more Crusader corpses than those of the Defense Force.

As they charged, his eye caught the broken frame of a woman, blood dribbling from wounds as she sat propped up against an earthen wall. She had the look of a Dauntless Commando, and for a second Kiff thought to leave her for dead. But he cast that notion from his head, approaching the woman as he did so. Bending down on one knee, he slid off of one of his gloves and offered [member="Tiria Reinhart"] his hand. "Up, soldier. This is no place to die."

 

[Adron Malvern]

The Golden Crusade has begun with success. That was what the Golden Warrior's believed, the moment they penetrated the enemy base, called FOB Calypso. The siege of the base had not taken long, and what should have taken days was completed in hours. Rugosa had been broken. Of course, there was still one thing that the Golden Army had not accounted for. The Confederate Defense Force.

Not long after FOB Calypso fell, the fleet emerged from Hyperspace. Hundreds of Confederate ships had rallied together to come to Rugosa's aid. With the full force of the Confederacy bearing down on them, the Golden Warriors seemed intent on breaking the conflict. Many of the warriors on the planet's surface continued to fight to the death, however the Starfleet that the warriors had brought with them turned to flee. The crude vessels turned from Rugosa, launching themselves into hyperspace to escape the wrath of the Confederacy.

The Golden Crusade had been halted. The Golden Warriors, what remained of them, were now pressed to the back foot. However, there was no mistaking what had occured on Rugosa. It had been a blow to the Confederacy's pride.

With the wounded in care and the dead to tend to, many were asking the same question.

Would the Golden Warriors ever return?



OOC: As always, great job guys. I really hope you all enjoyed this storyline and the introduction of this new, mysterious enemy. As the Golden Army is pulling back, feel free to continue the RP and go further into detail on what would occur next.