Annihilation Head of the Snake: BotM Annihilation of Csilla

[UX-0626]

​

Location: BoTM Trenches - Csilla
Allies: TK ( Darth Carnifex ) │ BotM ( Lirka Ka The Mongrel )
Enemies: CA ( Ziroka ) │ NIO ( FN-999 DECEASED Erskine Barran Major Bennett Hall Tyrell Lockhart ) │ GA ( Aerarii Tithe ) │ Independent ( Himm'vaun'merek ) │ CIS ( Maple Harte )
Direct Opposition: Ziroka FN-999

Two shots, two kills.

The sniper continued her gruesome work, sweeping her sights across the Chiss and NIO defensive lines in search for targets of opportunity, officers, and other potential VIP personnel.

In essence, anything that moved and was the enemy.

With a squeeze of the trigger, she sent another large caliber slug down range, cutting down a stormtrooper who had taken the place of one of the machine gunners she had killed earlier, who had presumably known that a sniper was still lurking in the distance, yet chose to fight on nonetheless. The recoil kicked back against her shoulder, but the energized polymers in her armor acted to enhance her strength, allowing her to control it with more ease. Her next shot came a little over a second after the first, her weapon reporting an ear-splitting crack as she fired on the next target in her scope, a stormtrooper commander with a red pauldron. Pieces of betaplast and viscera flew in all directions as the slug punched through his chest, only for the soldier standing next to him to be struck down not a moment later, her next shot having been fired immediately after, at the maximum rate the rifle allowed.

From there, 626 let her breath drop, before sweeping her scope back towards the Chiss defensive lines. It was only a moment, but the sniper saw it nevertheless, a head peeking out from behind cover, Chiss, female, and presumably desperate for revenge. 626 immediately aimed for the target’s head, her breath suspended in her lungs as she squeezed the trigger.

Only for the slug to miss by mere inches as the Chiss ( Ziroka ) ducked back down behind cover, the projectile whistling just over her head.

626 gave a frustrated groan, but she could not waste any time since she had been sighted by an enemy. She was familiar enough with counter-sniper tactics to know that she had to move fast, or else something, whether it be artillery, an airstrike, or even an enemy sniper, would likely be focused on her or her position in only a few moments. Moving quickly, she picked up her rifle, which was longer than she was tall, yet fortunately was not as heavy as it would have been had she not been wearing her armor. Then, she dropped back down into the trench, magnetizing the weapon across her back as she did. As her boots hit the dirt and slush-covered ground, 626 moved in a sprint, intent upon evacuating the area before whatever was meant to hit her, arrived.

All the while, the female Chiss remained in the back of her mind, another target which she intended to pursue and kill, before the Mercy was charged.

Spoiler: Loadout

• "Taral" Sith Trooper Armor - Designation: UX-0626
  • Undersuit
    • UL-14 “Virtus” Class Underlay
  • Left Wrist
    • ACS-207 CryoBan Gun
    • ZX Miniature Flame Projector
    • Universal Gas Launcher
      • Pink Vapor
  • Right Wrist
    • Shatter Beam
    • Wide Beam Sonic Stunner
    • Universal Gas Launcher
      • Nagnol Gas
  • Energy Shield
    • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
  • Boots
    • Whimsy Knife
• M-107 Anti-Material Rifle
• FAE/M-01 “Scherezade” Energized Vibroblade
• Freebirds Industries L-7 Heavy Pistol
  • Carbine Conversion
• Impact Grenade (4)

 

[Atlas Drake]

secrets that could name the future
and saturate the soul with stardust​

---

// CONSTELLATION SALVAGE TEAM
// BROTHERHOOD SUPERWEAPON
// CSILLA SYSTEM, UNKNOWN REGIONS
​

Captain Drake's first few shots flew wide in fury. By the time he'd recovered enough of his wits to take a breath and aim Adaz was already shrouded within some kind of noxious green cloud. Atlas kept firing even when he was no longer certain where to shoot. After blasting the cloud for a few more seconds he paused and listened for any sign of movement.

"Karabast!"

Blaster fire screamed back across the bridge in response forcing Drake back across its far side into a dive for cover. Without aiming he countered with a few blind shots hoping to buy himself some time. It was then that he first noticed the subtle effects of spreading nagnol gas. Atlas began to feel light headed and then soon after started seeing strange things in the mist. Unnatural things. He collapsed on one knee. Desperate hands clawed for his belt.

With a sigh of relief Atlas sealed the EVA helmet still dangling at his side and breathed in clean filtered air. Still a few hours left in his oxygen supply. Instead of a stumbling victim desperate to escape before he lost consciousness, when enough of the gas cleared between them the Nihil raider found himself squaring off against a healthy fighter with a blaster pistol in one hand and a nagai tehk'la blade in the other.

"Party's over, gutterpunk."

Drake activated the jetpack on his enviro suit for a short burst. Just enough to spark a flame which would burn through the toxic mist like a wildfire scorching everything it touched. Klaxons squealed in his ears and warnings flashed across the captain's heads up display. Yet his suit which was rated to withstand the cold depths of space had no problem shielding him from the firestorm's wrath.

---

WEAPONS & EQUIPMENT​

EVA Suit/Utility Belt​	Portable Scanner​
Glie-44 Navy​	Tehk'la Blade​

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Allies: BotM and allies
Enemies: Chiss and allies
Tags: Dimitri Voltura
Gear: Sword, Axe, Armor​

Zachariel had sneered at the mans proclamation. Such a simply statement, yet one so foolish to declare. He suspected the man had survived for some time, otherwise he wouldn't have picked him as his prey. But to so boldly declare it, it simply made Zachariel want to kill the man even more. Thus, he had struck, and the battle could begin. Dimitri dodged behind him, launching another Force push against him, before giving Zachariel his offer. All that met his ears was Zachariel laughing, even as he activated his boots again. This prevented him from stumbling from the Force push, and allowed him to spin about to face Dimitri once more.

Spinning away from the lightsaber strike with the an ease that belied his size, Zachariel lashed out once more. Only for his weapons to bite into empty air, as Dimitri had fled towards the crates, switching places with Zachariel. Snarling at what he perceived as cowardice, Zachariel gave the man a once over, this time more in the Force. The swirling darkness was impressive, but Zachariel simply saw it as presenting a bigger target, or hiding weaknesses. Sneering, Zachariel lashed out with the Force. With a massive Force pull, Zachariel aimed to dislodge Dimitri towards him, and at the same time weaken the balance of the crates.

Without even waiting for the results of that, Zachairel launched himself forward once more, racing to engage Dimitri. And once in range, he'd begin his attacks once again, attacking quickly and without mercy.
"Fight me coward!"

 

[Maestus]

The Chosen she had sent ahead to scout the bunker began crackling over the coms.

Visual acquired. Numerous targets, one appears to be high profile.

The Chosen described Aerarii Tithe best they could, due to limited vision into the bunker. They described him well enough that she could now pick him out once she sees him. But not enough to know his ear hairs need plucked. The rest of the occupants of the bunker did not concern Maestus. They would die, same as everyone else on this iceberg.

Her robes pulled tightly around her, she trudged onwards towards the bunker. She was making no effort to conceal herself, so it came as no surprise when a squadron of Csilla defenders appeared over the top of a trench, blasters first. Shots of pure energy whizzed her way.

Her Chosen returned fire conservatively but effectively. They had no idea if or when they could resupply.

Maestus' lightsaber flew to her hand. She blinked and the purple plasma blade shot to life. Deftly, she deflected the incoming blaster fire. All but one that grazed her just below the left hip. She growled in pain, a deafening sound. Not that it could be heard over all the fighting.

Suddenly a bright light illuminated everything. Then came the word over coms that Mercy had taken out a chunk of the enemy's fleet. Her howl of pain turned to dark and wicked laughter. A successful opening salvo! Maestus was confident then. The first shot had been a smashing success. The second would come to Csilla. She only hoped she could get off world in time.

The blaster bolts she deflected took out the last defender. She and her Chosen crossed the trench, bridging the gap between them and the bunker quickly. Maestus paused, closing her eyes. She commanded the Dark Side to augment her physical abilities. To strengthen her, enhance her stamina and speed.

Then she began towards the bunker once more. Moving even faster than most are ever capable of. ​

​

 

[Matma Bernu]

FIRST ORDER FLEET
OBJECTIVE III:
DUEL OF THE FATES

Matma had been trying to center himself in the Force since the briefing, and throughout the duration of the fleet's journey to Csilla, to join the powers of the galaxy against the Brotherhood of the Maw. But it was difficult for one very, very specific reason.

This was personal.

The Ascendency had been on the knife's edge, as the NIO encroached upon the Redoubt. He had begged- begged- his parents to flee their home, to come to the safety of Dosuun. There was a thriving diaspora, he argued in vain, from the Sith-Jenaari conflict that the Chiss were unfortunately host to. But despite his begging, cajoling, screaming, they firmly refused. 'Csilla had remained largely unaffected from most of the galaxy's problems', his father replied, his mother nodding. 'This will just wash over us.'

That had been a mere 12 hours before the Brotherhood had descended upon with Csilla it's ravenous hordes of butchers and marauders. He couldn't raise them on the comms. He couldn't feel them in the Force.

So, yea. This was personal. This wasn't some backwater, some icey-hell hole, or what have you. This was Csilla. And they'd burn for what they've done to the Chiss, by the Balance.

Matma sighed, accepting that he wasn't going to be centered under the circumstances, and got up, clipping his saber to his belt as he left his temporary quarters and made his way to the hanger. He spotted Brec Gannan , grunting in greeting at the Korun as he made his way to the transport.

He'd usually be more genial, more outgoing...but this was personal.

​

Allies: Juliana Alderdice | The Major | Rolf Amsel | Brec Gannan
Enemies: Gren Blidh

 

[Olen Halcorr]

​

OBJECTIVE II: DARK ALL DAY
ROGUE SQUADRON
PROTECT THE FLEET | DESTROY THE SUPERWEAPON
LOCATION: EDGE OF THE BATTLE, SPACE OVER CSILLA
EQUIPMENT:
X-Wing Starfighter
TAGS:
ALLIES: Albrecht F. Herlock Constantine Oliva Teica Giraan Roudac Gannan Natasi Fortan Ziroka Kaeli Thale Siloh Riain
ENEMIES: Tu'teggacha Aldo Garrick Kyber CETCOM Subject 54 Havoc

​

Olen had missed all the rush, the exhilaration, the stakes. Quite frankly, he himself wasn't quite sure why he'd left. Why he'd left everything behind for home? Lysatra was his birthworld and the place where he'd spent most of his childhood, but he hadn't been there in over a decade. His real home would always be in the cockpit of a X-Wing fighter, and he couldn't ever dispute that fact. The chronometer ticked away as the messy visage of battle was soon displayed behind his glasteel viewports.

From the very short briefing, he'd gotten a taste of the dire situation that faced the Alliance. The Brotherhood of the Maw, another insidious evil that dared to challenge the Galactic Alliance and its allies, yet this one was reported to be different, like nothing they'd ever faced before, and the Admiral had been right. A few klicks away was the superweapon, and large bulbous metallic monstrosity that had already taken out a large chunk of the Allied fleet. Capital ships of all shapes and sizes were dotted around the space of the looming icy ball of Csilla which lay just ahead.


Taking two quick glances to his left side, he saw the visages of the two B-Wings, and turning his head to the right, the nose cone of an E-Wing which had its own set of battle scars, black scorch marks across the nose which also adorned its two aerodynamic s-foils. He himself had opted for the newest iteration of the REC-SS01 X-Wing Starfighter, a new generation X-Wing, which his new squadron, the Rogues, had the pleasure of testing out within their unit. B-Wings, E-Wings, X-Wings, and the venerable A-Wing interceptor were their ships of choice, a mixed starfighter squadron, not all too uncommon within the Starfighter Corps.

With a flick of his finger, he switched on the comm unit, broadcasting to the allied frequency. "Calling all allied ships, this is Rogue Leader, sorry we're late, little bit of a hold up." He joked at the end,attempting to lighten the mood, and focus on the brighter side, which seemed impossible taking into account their current predicament.

He didn't feel that slight jostling motion that he'd usually get from the yaw which was strange to him, as he gradually pitched up the throttle, gliding into the battle. Ferocity was the vibe he was getting from the events transpiring, as it became much clearer to him how far the Brotherhood was going to do to protect their station, and destroy the Chiss, in both mind and body. Preventing that was his aim at the moment.

Reverting back to the squadron comms, he addressed his pilots, with gusto and some pride. "Here we are everyone, set S-foils to attack positions, fan out and follow me, we're taking this slow and steady at the moment, make sure your deflectors are at double front, keep an eye on that Battlestation, make sure your ready for the next energy surge, and follow me. B-Wings, I want you to keep close to us for now, we're not showing out hand just yet. May the Force be with you."

Olen ended the broadcast, satisfied that they would know what they were doing. Hitting a button on the ceiling of his cockpit, he enabled SLAM to direct the juice from his compact fusion reactor to his engines, he was going to scout out the battlefield, he needed to get a better idea of what he was dealing with first of all. Even with the intertial compensator, he felt slightly pushed backwards into his seat as the X-Wing was propelled forward, the squadron close behind him. Another improvement on the older models was the integration of the new, Holographic Interface Terminal. A system that was much smoother than his old unit, and would allow him to analyse his situations much better. Blips that represented the ships began to map out on his HIT as he cruised through the battlefield.

Never before had been quite so worried as he was now.

 

[Charlotte Reed]

​

FIV DILIGENT​

SHIELDS (100%)​	HULL (100%)​
██████████​	██████████​

STATUS TRAVELING THROUGH HYPERSPACE...​

FLEET VESSELS​

BATTLE DIVISION 1​ • Desolator-class Battlecruiser | 100% - 100% • Resurgent-class Star Destroyer | 100% - 100% • Resurgent-class Star Destroyer | 100% - 100% • Matsushima-class Battlecarrier | 100% - 100% • Lancer II-class Defense Frigate | 100% - 100% • Lancer II-class Defense Frigate | 100% - 100% • CR90 Sisa-class Corvette | 100% - 100%

BATTLE DIVISION 2​ • Imperial II-class Star Destroyer | 100% - 100% • Imperial II-class Star Destroyer | 100% - 100% • Imperial II-class Star Destroyer | 100% - 100% • Imperial II-class Star Destroyer | 100% - 100% • Imperial II-class Star Destroyer | 100% - 100% • Imperial II-class Star Destroyer | 100% - 100%​ • Resurgent-class Star Destroyer | 100% - 100% • Matsushima-class Battlecarrier | 100% - 100% • Seawolf Heavy Frigate | 100% - 100% • CR90 Sisa-class Corvette | 100% - 100% • CR90 Sisa-class Corvette | 100% - 100%

ESCORT DIVISION 1​

ESCORT DIVISION 2​

RECONNAISANCE DIVISION​

EN ROUTE TO CSILLA > MID CSILLA SYSTEM
Bridge of the FIV Diligent

The deckplates of the Desolator-class Battlecruiser FIV Diligent thrummed as the ship hurtled through hyperspace. The atmosphere on the bridge was one of quiet resolve tinged with repressed anxiety. They were heading towards what was likely the most deadly battle any of them would likely face. Captain Charlotte Reed stood silently at the command station, observing the reports that were being relayed from the ships already in the system. She glanced at the timer on the strategic display, counting down the time until they'd arrive. Less than a minute now.

On the display table, a map of the system was laid out in three dimensions. The information that they knew for certain -- the position of Csilla and other normal astronomical objects -- was already there in perfect definition. The rest of the map was in various stages of resolution. As Charlotte watched, bits of the map resolved from blank spaces to pixelated colors before finally coming into focus as the sensor data loaded fully in. Her own vessels were penciled in in translucent forms, reflecting where her current orders would place the ships under her command. Based on the sensor data they'd already received, she made a slight adjustment to the orders.

The timer in the corner of the display went from green to yellow to red before reaching zero. There was a slight dip in the pit of her stomach as the ship reverted to realspace. On either side of the Tenacious were the Resurgent-class Star Destroyers Redoubt and Relentless. A Matsushima-class Battlecarrier, a pair of Lancer II-class Defense Frigates, and a CR90 Sisa-class Corvette rounded out the lines of Battle Division 1 of the First Order's 7th Fleet. Battle Division 2, consisting primarily of Imperial II Block IX-class Star Destroyers arrayed behind Battle Division 1 with an aim to using its mid- to long-range capabilities to support First Order objectives in the system. Meanwhile, Escort Division 1 would provide flank and front support for the battle divisions, while Escort Division 2 would support and protect the rear of the Battle Divisions.

"All ships sound action stations. Maintain loose formation. Keep an eye on that battlestation. Shields up at maximum, prepare for enemy contact. Escort Divisions, take positions. Deploy fighter screens." She turned to her communications officer and inclined her head. "Inform Allegiant General Gannan and Vice Admiral Barkai we've arrived and are prepared to take orders as needed." She clasped her hands behind her back and turned back to the display diagram, straightening her back. "Let's work on firing solutions for the most effective targeting, and if the Allegiant General or Vice Admiral request that we target anything in particular, we'll be ready."

First Order: Brec Gannan | Caio | Charlotte Reed | Juliana Alderdice | Karisa | Korynn Sol-Syna | Matma Bernu | Natasi Fortan | Rahmmon Barkai | Rolf Amsel | The Major | Thorne
Allies: Teica Giraan | Constantine Oliva | Albrecht F. Herlock | CETCOM | Defenders
Enemies: Brotherhood of the Maw | Tu'teggacha | | Aldo Garrick | Talon Kyber | Derix Tirall | Attackers

Engaging: N/A​

​

 

[Darth Maleva]

Elpsis Kerrigan
​

Maleva had fallen in step with the barbarians. Though she stuck out like a sore thumb in her obsidian and scarlet armor when contrasted with the brotherhood clad in their furs, leathers, and robes, no one questioned her presence. She allowed them to pass when they came upon the intruders. In the back of the cluster, she hoped to observe what they were made of. The average, feeble Jedi should have been no match for those who claimed to possess the strength to rebirth the galaxy in flames.

A slight smirk, mixed with admiration, crossed the sith lord's face. The flames were yards away, but the heat noticeable. The force came alive as the foes proved themselves more than she initially thought. Witches, and talented at that. Only after the brothers began to fall did Maleva move. Floating forward, she peeled from the heathens, revealing herself to the group. Like the sparks she had just created, one shone brightly above the rest. Maleva looked to her, the cocky smile growing wider.

"Lovely tricks, really." Maleva teased, raising a hand. "Let me show you a few of my own."

With a flick of her wrist, invisible tendrils bloomed at her fingertips. Despite being invisible to the naked eye, their growth could be felt in the force as they reached for the nearest victims. Brothers fell as their will was drained, offering their power to the anzat. The snaky vines moved on, making for the group.

"Fire's a fine choice for an elementalist," She noted, hoping to stall as she collected power. "Giver of life and death, creator of light and dark. The duality is a beautiful thing." ​

 

[Boo Heavenshield]

First Order
FIV DEFIANT
Flagship of Vice Admiral Rahmmon Barkai

[ Kory's War Face ]​

The familiar klaxon running through the ship caused a knot to form in the woman's stomach.

It was a sound she hadn't heard since before many of the men and women around her were born. Before the Clockwork Rebellion. When the fear of the Gulag Plague had made the galaxy a whole lot smaller than it was now.

A white lab coat framed the squat woman, who was dressed simply in a pair of surgical scrubs. She bore no rank insignia, just a code cylinder that was clipped to the pocket of the coat. She stood to one side of the bridge, her attention cast out of the windows of the star destroyer. The view was always inspiring. Space was vast amounts of emptiness, but the abyss was filled with the evidence of life. Each point of light a different star. Each star a chance for life to spring into being. Millions of planets, shrouded in a veil of stars.

It was as poetic as it was cold.

Space was also a harsh environment. Prone to extremes. Of which, there seemed no end to extremists. She knew that better than anyone here. She'd fought them along the Giju Run during the Shadow Wars. Different organizations. Different goals. Different philosophies, but the outcomes were always the same. Pain inflicted on others for no reason.

The Admiral seemed to expect an attack the moment that the fleet dropped out of hyperspace. He didn't relax, but he seemed somewhat less tense as he said, "Comms, now that we have a moment please inform the Allegient General we have arrived and are entering the battlespace."

"If I'm bored on this trip, it wouldn't upset me," Kory noted somberly, speaking up for the first time since she'd slipped onto the bridge. Sickbay was ordinarily a quiet spot on the ship. Until the shooting started, then it got to be quite chaotic. But whether quiet or in the chaos, there was no sense of what was going on around the ship from Sickbay. So, she'd slipped up to the bridge to get an idea for herself of when they arrived.

There was nothing worse than shuffling around sickbay. Waiting for the wounded to show up.

Or for the bodies to arrive.

She'd know when it was time for her to take her leave from the bridge and head to Sickbay. Or head directly to where casualties were called, so that she could help bring them into Sickbay herself.

It was a game for the young, but managing doctors across both fleet and shore requirements was a hell of a task. And this battlegroup had sortied with only a few hours notice. She couldn't gap hospitals of critical skills and there was still the matter of the First Order's contribution to evacuation efforts on Csilla.

So Kory had pitched in where she could. And that meant accompanying the fleet as a medical practitioner. She was old. She was tired. And she was done with this chit, but she was still board certified. And that meant she was qualified. And, right now, the First Order needed every qualified physician who was able to pitch in where they were able. So here she was.

Karisa was handling the herculean task that was the evacuation of Csilla. If it was even possible. That was definitely a crisis management task that was going to require someone with a little more youth and vigor than Kory could muster -- at least for the length of time that such a feat would require.

Triaging medical care for a single starship? She could manage that.

She hoped.

 

[Halketh]

L I V E F O R M E
V U L T U R E
M A R C H O F T H E P E N I T E N T
// HELL FROZEN OVER //
// "THE PERISHED" 5123/5300 \\

He wrapped himself in his vulnerability, wearing it as a bloodied cloak with the urgent rush through the life lines carved into the earth. The stormtrooper he had spoken to had simply thrust a communicator in his hands, rather than take him where it was he wished to go, and thus it became a gambling game to find a place appropriately quiet for him to use such a thing. Chaos rained down in superb colors, churning the air until a bloodied mess of rancid decimation rushed upon the winds. Already, Halketh was exhausted. Now, more than ever perhaps, he wished for the soreness of his feet to come to end and the strain of the galactic noose to be over. He felt the insidious chill seeping into his body, creeping into his bone marrow and piercing at his psyche, his heart. It strummed his wounded heartstrings and wrapped its talons around his throat, choking the breath against his vocal cords so he could only gasp.

It was all in his mind.

It always had been.​

[Let him know that he can come over to the bunker, its entrance code is 4971. In the meantime, also let him know that we can speak through our current comms connection. My Lord, what is it you wish to discuss? Time is of the essence.]

Halketh furrowed his brow heavily as he spoke his urgent message: "You're the commander of this garrison, but my men do not suffer as yours do. The forward line is collapsing inward, even with reinforcement, it's time to fall back. My army will hold the line until the living are clear. Sith Lords encircle us, above and coming around from the flank. They will not be stopped as their cannon-fodder has been and this carnage will do naught but fuel them. Take this time, this reprieve I offer for your men, to make preparations to fall back to the next trench and regroup. The Perished can hold the line, over." He spoke evenly into the communicator, allowing his steadiness to emerge through his resonating voice as he eased his own suffering, coaxing himself to tranquility unknown to stable men in the midst of such madness.

That was all he had. All he needed. His helmeted head turned towards the stormtrooper waiting for issuance, and it was all Halketh did to tuck the communicator into proper place, mounting one where there had been none previously. He had no intention of returning from this world- the voices of the living would not convince him this was anything but inevitable death. He did not wait for a response to thrust himself from the bloody sludge and propel to the edge of the trench. Both gauntleted hands stretched to his sides, turning palms to the sky, and armored digits became hooked claws. Deeply, his brow furrowed with concentration.

Sweat broke out across his body, sticking the bottommost layers of his garb to his flesh. Heat rose in the pit of his stomach, charring the blackened edges of his abyss with newfound flare. If this was to be the end, it would be as he deserved it to be: glorious.

Abruptly, The Warlord's fists clenched with a sparking hiss. Heat exploded before his position, rushing horizontally to form a line far in front of the buckling trench as the other New Imperial forces rushed to reinforce it. It was silent, at first, yet the invisible line had been drawn and would remain drawn so long as the sorcerer could will it to be so. The hellions scrambling over the line would be plagued with rupturing, internal strife, afflicting damage to their already frail psyches, forcing them to stumble and writhe across the ground. The mass was debilitated, those closest over that line, at least- making it far easier for the combined might of the New Imperials to lay waste to the hordes of death raised against them.

Such was it so, the TodHusars had a safe landing upon dropping in. Their arrival was a blessing, one that the Warlord knew they were in desperate need of.

'Hold the line-'

He shuddered, gasping violently at the sudden emergence of a phantasmic voice amongst the battle's discordance.

'-they need you, Master-'

He tumbled backward as he felt pressure crash into his chestguard and toppled back to land into the trench. A disturbance in The Force jerked his eyeless gaze skyward and silence overcame him. The weapon. They had fired the weapon. But not into the planet... there was a shift... the forces of the Light. The Alliance. The Jedi? "No...."

'-they don't understand it-'

His twitching hand pressed against the fresh plasma burn across his chestguard and the scorched, pinkish flesh exposed beneath it.

'-but they will-'

Defiantly, Halketh snarled and thrust himself right back to the edge, shouting in scorned fury as the snap-hiss of plasma resounded from his position. The accursed orange blade glowered at those who dared closer, singing its screaming wrath as he wove it, slicing foes apart with renewed strength bolstering his heels.

'-someday.'​

ALLIES | NIO | GA | FN-999 DECEASED Erskine Barran Aerarii Tithe Major Bennett Hall Tyrell Lockhart Enedina Tal Gallius Orcana
ENEMIES | BotM | WotS | TSE | UX-0626 The Mongrel Lirka Ka
SPECIAL TAG | Khaostra Devoid​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Location: Throne Room
@Interacting with Darth Solipsis , Mar'Sika

​

"How could you ever hope to know the threat you face, when you have never walked in the dark places of the galaxy: faced war and death on such a scale? If you had traveled far enough, rather than waiting for the echo to reach you, perhaps you would have seen it for what it was."


The halls of the monstrous craft were surprisingly elegant for the grim purpose of the machine. There was still that vague rusty smell of blood in the air here, but it was not as prevalent as it had been back in the hanger.

The exile had surrendered himself to the Maw's fleet shortly before the conflict over Csilla had begun, and found himself locked in a cell for the past few hours. To do so had been a foolhardy gambit, but he no longer had fleets to command, nor any armies to lead. He had only himself, but perhaps that would be enough.

It was too late to save Csilla, but if the head of the snake was removed, then the rest of the beast would die shortly thereafter. That was his theory at the very least.

The pale skinned guardsmen led him wordlessly in something that felt eerily like a funeral procession through the vessel's quiet halls. For all the chaos going on aboard and around the ship, the chosen path toward Darth Solipsis was remarkably undisturbed.

The guardsman's voice rattled as a pair of obsidian doors slid open before them. "The prisoner you requested my lord."

The moment the doors opened, the taint of the Bogan weighed upon Cedric as if the very weight of the galaxy had been set upon his shoulders. It was all he could do to maintain his personal peace as he stepped through the portal. That peace was momentarily shattered as the guard shoved him forward with a butt of his rifle. Fighting the urge to spit a curse at the cultist, Cedric opted to draw in a deep breath in order to center himself as he eyed the lord of the maw upon his throne. The old beast wanted him alive for one reason or another, and that desire was the only reason Cedric had not been shot the moment he'd stepped foot aboard the ship. It was what he was counting on now.

"We've got to stop meeting like this my lord," the exile greeted in a mocking tone. He tugged at the force-cuffs bound around his wrists exaggeratedly, "I hope you reinforced the windows properly this time." His gaze drifted from one end of the room to the next. There was conflict in the far end of the room, though of what kind he did not know, and another standing near enough to the Voice. "And you brought friends." The Jedi sighed and adopted a tight frown.

His brief attempt at brevity evaporated as he cast his gaze toward the devastation that resulted from the ship's super laser. In the wake of such destruction, silence was all he could offer.

 

[Juliana Alderdice]

LOCATION INFO

Juliana slung her pack over her shoulder and clipper her lightsaber to her belt. She had a blaster in a shoulder holster, sequestered and hidden under her jacket, and another -- a piece of equipment borrowed from their brothers in the Security Bureau, the FO-SUSPCT -- tucked into the waistband of her pants in a specialized holster. She wore simple, non-descript armor that provided protection without limiting her range of movement. The pack was slim, low profile, containing just a few key items: spare power packs, emergency medical supplies, etc.

In the turbolift on the way down to the hangar, she quickly braided her coppery hair and was tying it into a bun as she walked into the hangar proper, spotting Brec Gannan and Matma Bernu near the transport, the latter with a face like thunderclouds. She approached, tucking the last few strands of her hair into a secure bun, and greeted them both with a nod. "Matma," she said, trying to make the word sound equal parts naming, greeting, comforting, and encouraging. After a beat, she ventured: "Any word?"

She knelt to refasten her boots, casting a gaze around the hangar as Matma answered or didn't. When she had finished her business, she stood again and folded her arms around her midsection, trying to settle the anxiety bubbling within her like a boiling kettle. "Do you need anything from me, Mmm -- uh, Brec? Or should I see if there's something they need from me on board?" She hooked her thumb towards the entrance of the ship.

In a way she was looking forward to this. The sooner they went, the sooner it would be over. Sure, maybe millions would be dead by then, but at least they'd know.

Brec Gannan | Matma Bernu | The Major | Rolf Amsel | Gren Blidh​

 

[Darth Solipsis]

Location: Chamber of War | Throne
Tags: Cedric Grayson | Ryv [SOON TM] | Mar'Sika ​

A stream of crimson flickered before his sulfuric eyes, reflecting off their surface brightly as he watched on in sick amusement. The Dark Voice watched and savored every moment, every second as thousands cries out in horror and were suddenly silenced forever more. He fed on their pain, their hatred, and their suffering as nourishment for his failing body, strength from the Dark Side of the Force.

The trap had been set.

He could hear out of the corner of the chamber the very beginning of what appeared to be battle within the Chamber of War, he paid it little mind knowing full well what dark forces dwelled nearby. The decimation of the Light-sworn had become his focus, only the sudden arrival of Cedric Grayson pried the Dark Voice’s attention away from the spectacular space battle. His chair spun around slowly, right hand resting upon the chosen weapon of the captive Jedi Master. The Sith Master came into full view adorned in black ornate robes, outlined in red detailed linings, and a shielded hood covering him.

The Elder gazed forth upon the prisoner and the Chosen Guardsman as they approached, his dreaded glare washing over them from under the veil with half-exposed yellow eyes bathed in the fires of Hell. Darth Solipsis sat motionless, silent in wait as he studied each of them like thoroughly like a cadaver. He leaned back and let his arms rest against the throne, hand firmly over the lightsaber of Cedric Grayson with a slight tap of his fingers against the smooth metal. After a few moments of silence, his left hand rose and subtly dismissed the guardsman with a casual gesture. The Dark Voice took a momentary glance at the Heathen Priest Mar'Sika beside him and gave a subtle nod before returning his full attention back to the prisoner before him.

"We've got to stop meeting like this my lord," the exile greeted in a mocking tone. He tugged at the force-cuffs bound around his wrists exaggeratedly, "I hope you reinforced the windows properly this time." His gaze drifted from one end of the room to the next. There was conflict in the far end of the room, though of what kind he did not know, and another standing near enough to the Voice. "And you brought friends." The Jedi sighed.

The Master of the Maw chuckled under his breath in laughter, amused greatly by both the continued defiance of the Jedi Master and his attempted humor.

"My boy."

The Dark Voice leaned forward from his throne, eyes fully revealed and cast deeply over that of Cedric Grayson, "I have waited a long time for this moment, this reunion." His left hand rose once more gesturing to the void, "There is no escaping me this time, your reckless behavior has sealed your fate." Fiery eyes drifted off and back over the stationary lightsaber at his disposal, "I admire your craftsmanship, it reminds me of your father's."

A dark grimace hidden under the warmth of a smile, the Elder taunted his prey to pick and pry, "Come closer, god-son."

 

[Elle Mors]

Csilla Ground

WISH YOU WELL​

"Oh." She said, her tone uncertain - realizing how far they'd drifted apart by how little she could read of her former friend. For a moment she was caught in a daze, deaf to the distant sounds of fighting and the voice of Sylvia close by. Snow falling in front of her face drifted out of focus and seemed much closer to droplets of rain, the echo of thunder in her mind sounding as she heard mention of a ship - the implication of what going with her might mean. "I'll see you off," She started to say, catching herself before she could utter a name she didn't have any right using - they were as good as strangers now, and she'd been the one to make that distinction clear the last time they'd met.

Thunder again, a phantom in her thoughts.

"And.. don't apologize, I wasn't.. me. I'm still not." She added as she walked towards the downed speeder, her eyes cast down towards her feet as they shuffled through the snow. "You'll make up for it by getting off of this rock in one piece, so let's get a move on." She said with a forced grin, covering up her discomfort with false bravado. She glanced the vehicle once-over, familiar to some extent with machinery from having to learn to repair her own things since she'd left the Empire behind. "It doesn't look broken?" Elle offered, though she assumed the sort of skill Sylvia had with connecting to technology with the force would have only improved in their time apart and probably gave her much more of a qualification to make that kind of judgment than her.

Glancing away, towards the cluster of conflicting emotions that swirled like a storm at the heart of the battle planetside, she sighed. In truth she was extremely relieved that Sylvia hadn't continued to throw her lot in with the Sith, it just felt.. different than she had expected that kind of news to hit. Burying the thought, she looked back at her for the first real time in a very long time. She'd noticed the strange stare of disbelief she'd been given by Sylvia, but Elle hadn't really let her eyes wander anywhere that wasn't their surroundings or her feet for most of the time she'd been standing there. She still looked like she'd remembered, a little more mature maybe, but different in a way she couldn't place.

Sylvia Virtos

 

[Starlin Rand]

Objective: Duel of the Fates
Location: Saving baby blueberries in the hangar bay
Gear: Armor | Shoto
Tags: Syd Celsius | Tegan Starfall (soon to be engaging… later)

Starlin was blissfully unaware, but the river of time had just seen fit to spontaneously remove his lightsaber from his possession. In fact, he had never brought it onto the battlefield with him in the first place, because he had already given it to Arcturus Dinn as “proof” that they had (sike) fought on Ossus. Ah, the wonders of writing multiple threads simultaneously.

Headed for the refugee ship—what was one doing on the Mercy, anyway?—Starlin broke into a run. With his remaining shoto he sliced through any cultists that got in his way. A Jedi saw him pass, recognized that he was a man on a mission, and helped keep some of the Brotherhood off his back.

He heard Syd’s voice in his head warning him to keep his anger in check. His mind was distracted, assaulted on all sides by darkness. It was enough that he could keep it at bay, was it not? He could control his anger, make it work for him instead of him working for it.

The Chiss refugees panicked at the sight of him, then relaxed as it became clear he was on their side. “There are… nineteen children on this ship,” he said breathlessly. “They’ve had bombs planted in them… we have to disable them immediately. Anyone who knows of a child on board that was injured or operated on recently—”

It was, oddly enough, rather easy to pick them out from among the crowds with such specific parameters in place. Starlin was led through the crowds to blue-skinned, red-eyed kids lying on the floor, or had children brought directly to him, carried in the arms of their parents and relatives. He could detect the ones with bombs in them almost immediately, and like Syd had done, he used Tutaminis to empty their power cells, dispersing the energy harmlessly…

“The Brotherhood! The Brotherhood are aboard!”

Or not so harmlessly. Starlin turned with a snarl and lobbed a ball of energy at the cultists who were charging up the loading ramp. They fell like bowling pins, scattering, and Starlin leaped among them, globs of lava flung from his blade splattering against armor and smoking against clothing. He was angry, but it was a controlled anger. He felt hate for these people who would dare to stop him from completing his task, but he didn’t let it drive him. He was close to the edge of the abyss, but it would take more than a nudge to knock him over into the void.

There were still ten more bombs to go.

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
TASK FORCE 'BLIZZARD'
501st LEGION | 12th ARMORED DIVISION
OPERATION JAWBREAKER
THRAWN'S REST | CSILLA
Kascalion Giedfield

JUST CAUSE
+7:34 Hour
UTM Grid Point 40 Easting
Zone Of Operation Designation 'Thrawn's Rest'
501st Stormtrooper Legion | Imperator Irveric Tavlar 'Enigma Actual'
12th Armored Assault Division | Colonel Konrad Bolter 'Tyrant Actual'​

The artillery rounds willed by Tavlar's command began to rain down in heavy metal thunder over The Devil's position only to be met in kind by the crackling blue sheen of their shield generator. A minor set back as it implied while though they were not inflicting direct damage to the enemy, just about any hit on their hex grids would do in accomplishing something, the observations demanded prolonging of each fire mission queued up, shifting ten rounds to fifteen, twenty, whatever would punch through that shield generator faster. But they could not rely solely on the patient thumping of their guns to pierce the veil. They needed to strike hard and fast. Or rather, in the mantra of the 66th Armored Company, 'Hell's Hammers', strike to kill.

Kascalion was seemingly content to stay and hold, as he should have been. Evidently, Tavlar and his command staff didn't expect any different. The New Imperials held all the initiative now, they would set the pace, they would drop the hammer. As much as Giedfield was the fiery warlord, so too was Irveric eager for the killer. Today was an opportunity too precious to seize. To find, defeat and ideally, kill The Devil once and for all. But unfortunately, this was no battle of individual wills, there was armies at their command, hordes of screamers and mountains of metal willing to lay down their lives in sacrifice. One to their nation...another to their 'god'.

The 501st knew the cost but as per usual...they would seek to make the enemy pay it.

TYRANT ACTUAL
KONRAD BOLTER
66th ARMORED COMPANY 'HELL'S HAMMERS'
THRAWN'S REST
XT-62 'Cataphract' Main Battle Tank

ALL ALONG THE WATCHTOWER​

Received via an encrypted code as all battlefield orders and assignments were, the Hell's Hammers got their first vision of the glimpse of total war they peered into. The shield generator's plasmatic sheen cast over the nucleaus of Kascalion's defensive spot was an immediate and recognizable signal to Tavlar's force. Relying on doctrine of superior firepower, it had to go.

With the Hell's Hammers spearheading Spearpoint Aurek, or otherwise easily distinguishable as the northern armor formation, they advanced forward into the frozen tundra, diverging themselves from the main formation they set out within firing range of the fringe of Kascalion's troop formations along their defensive lines.

Flicking to the channel across his unit, Konrad Bolter spoke up to the cavalry, mostly of XT-62 Cataphracts of various configurations, the workhorse of the New Imperial armored force and perhaps the scale by which all main battle tanks were weighed as counterparts. The Hell's Hammers often equipping their own modifications, creating a homebrew variant featuring more robust pintle weapons and a layer of ERA and Anti-Disruptor packs fastened to the hull on top of an already robust composite armoring. With reliable technology still came exploitable weaknesses that took experience in the field to properly address.

Accompanying them were not only the recon units, accompanying them with fast attack speeders but also HMP-60x platoons. An older design but still ever reliable. There was beauty in simplicity and the HMP-60x offered a hail of rockets where ever the slot needed to be filled. While more advanced vehicles typically had the goalkeeper systems in place to detonate them early, the strategem was to overwhelm and saturate grid points in chaotic fire. HMPs did this immeasurably well.

<"Countermeasures out, jammers on...shroud our spot. Targets are marked but regardless...set down to siege, swap rounds to electromagnetic and begin to rain hell on that shield, until its gone we can't do our job. Fire when ready."> Konrad commanded and soon enough he pulled the preverbal key which willed the transition of the Cataphract's power allocation. The redundant systems in place allowed for this to be a more efficient and power efficient option than the previous variants of Cataphracts, much like the ones the Warlords of the Sith were equipped with which literally had to deploy landing gear to stake themselves into the ground as all repulsive systems completely powered down to siphon more energy to the weapons and shielding systems. In the '62, they continue their advance, albeit slowly but even still, little mobility was better than none at all.

With EMP charged warheads racked unto the autoloader they were quickly siphoned through the mass driver cannon in quick succession with a now irreverent accuracy, as it didn't matter the placement of the shot, only that they were being thrown in the direction of the shield. Regardless, the droid brain and AI assisted scopes did well in acquiring targets and being able to snap between them, once the hail of electrically charged mass driver fire pierced the shield, whatever awaited behind it was on borrowed time.

ENIGMA ACTUAL
SOVEREIGN IMPERATOR IRVERIC TAVLAR
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION 'IMPERATOR'S FIST'
THRAWN'S REST
Pernach-class Turbo Tank

DISSIDENT AGGRESSOR
​

Unbeknownst to Irveric Tavlar, each and every movement was being watched, meticulously. Each and every movement he willed from his place of command within his turbo tank, under observation. With the first tendril of his armored spear advanced forward and set down into position to begin dishing out its heavy metal panoply of firepower unto the The Devil's shield. The southern pincer of Tavlar's formation...approached far more aggressively, the Cataphracts and field anti-tank units making a harsh 'jab' north toward the beginnings of the Sith defensive lines, seeking to make a line drive through teh shielding and engage the entrenched units in the hopes that the counterpart formation would demand a split in Kascalion's focus, meaning the order of target priority was immediately skewered and warped out of combat effectiveness.

The Siege breakers continued their slow, stagger march all the while, volleys of the MegaCaliber Six cut between hulking approaches toward the entrenched positions. Nestled in the central point of the formation, Irveric Tavlar's command formation, a platoon of three Turbo Tanks. Though easily identifiable from the rest of his task force, a trait undesirable of a command position, he wanted to coax The Devil. He knew well the Sith typically had that compulsive desire to aim for the head, the strike at the leader, the grasp of glory. To beat the enemy, one must know how they think.

<"Full acceleration ahead, traverse headed on the designated grid point, activate projection plows.">

<"Sir?">

<"You wanted finesse...he'll get finesse.">

<"A suicidal charge is your attempt at finesse, sir?">

<"Not suicidal, once Giedfield is told our column is headed the charge, he'll demand it destroyed, apprehended. Demanding a shift in his defenses, target priority...lets everything else do their job and move in...demanding another impulsive reaction. These Sith are simple creatures, primal instinct and that. You give them the bait, they take it most every time. Vexen taught me that, for better or worse. Regardless, all forward. Get our gunships moving up to assist the offensive at Spearpoint Besh and cover our charge, target priority on any anti tank weapons."> What Tavlar didn't state, is that he hoped the point of impact of this charge might synch with the breaking point of their shields, giving them the means to bring the hammer down in full.

<"I fail to understand where it isn't suicidal...but...I've heard worse from you...and here I am.">

The engines of the tip of the spear in Tavlar's formation roared to life, the platoon of three turbo tanks all but screaming to life as they sped up to full acceleration concurrent with Spearpoint Besh's movement northward. Each Turbo Tank was full to the brim with 501st troopers, the most hardened, the most radical of the Corps and they sounded that tenacity to life in the troop bay, the sounds and thunderous tremble of the engines roaring to life signalling the advance, the charge.

<"Look alive, 501st! We got Sith to kill!"> An NCO barked out to the symphony of racking slides, loading power backs, sheathing blades and bludgeons. They were ready for a close quarters war, dropping into the trenches and butchering their way through the front most lines of the Sith Warlords. Thy Imperator's will be done. And just as The Devil would always remember the Slayer, his sycophants too would remember the argent and cobalt, the blue and white of the 501st, the Punished, the Imperator's own and now? The helldivers.

(will update map later, placeholder rn)

BATTLE OF THRAWN'S REST
IRVERIC TAVLAR | KASCALION GIEDFIELD
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER | WARLORDS OF THE SITH

STAGE ONE - HEAVY METAL THUNDER
Spearpoint Aurek sets down in 'Siege' mode and begins to lay heavy fire unto the enveloping shield generator
Spearpoint Besh begins to close the gap and assault Kascalion's left most flank.
Spearpoint Iron Continues a slow approach save for Tavlar's turbo tanks which barrel themselves toward Kascalion's lines.
Several 501st Airborne (Gunship mounted) units take up positions to assist the individual assaults and assert air superiority.​

 

[Darth Ananta]

MONSTERS​

When the surrounding world is wreathed in darkness, a proverbial veil cast over any light there might have otherwise been, even the smallest specks of illumination will shine like spotlights in such a void. The arrival of interlopers, Jedi and the like, were given away almost by the lack of darkness in their hearts alone. Pinpointing that arrival in such a massive station, however, was a completely different undertaking - one that Ananta had no desire to take part in. Beady black eyes swept across the room, sight rooted in the force in a manner not dissimilar to a Miraluka's, while the Sith lord meandered about, more than content with the possibility of chance providing her with an opportunity for conflict.

Blood-red lips curled up as something caught her attention from the corner of her eye, a tint of blue in the dark that vanished from her sight the moment she turned her gaze towards it. A small hand slid down her side to her waist, fingers curling around the matte hilt of her lightsaber, while she turned so the weapon was hidden from the perspective nearest the spot she'd lost sight of whatever had caught her eye. In truth Allyson Locke 's talents in stealth had allowed her to evade an immediate confrontation, had she tucked herself away from notice earlier she might not have even been noticed by the wandering Sith lord.

As quickly as it had formed the smile dropped, shifting back into a solemn stare of disinterest and introspection as she pretended to move on - adopting a façade of obliviousness to tempt her prey into boldness - and consider her options for detection if her idea went unrealized. Electromagnetism? The thought was dismissed as soon as it'd came to her. Electricity, however, did linger on her mind, static playing at her fingertips as she adjusted the focus of her senses to her hearing. Either her prey would come to her - or she'd be forced to flush her out.

Time would tell.

 

[Tegan Starfall]

Post: 5
Objective: Our Fate in the Stars
Equipment: Mind Crown | Purple MidNight Duster | Black Ancient Sith armor | Sith Mask | Grav Boots | Eltro Life Gloves (Right one is destroyed) | x4 red lightsabers | Forearm Lanvorak | Wrist Laser (toasted) | FWG-5 Flechette Smart Pistol | Boomer | X10 Hypo-syringes | X4 Daggers | Liquid Delirium | A Variety Explosives hidden in her jacket | Pack of Death sticks | Holopad
Allies: Darth Solipsis | BotM | Csilla go Boom fan Club
Enemies: All the Stars in the Night Sky
Special Tags: Starlin Rand (When he returns) | Syd Celsius

---

Tegan watched as the fools fumbled and mucked about in the chaotic storm, she had created in this hanger bay. This was all a game to her, she played with them to keep them at bay. The Mind of Tegan’s was one of chaos, she was always pulling a thousand strings at once to see what snapped. Even the Maw itself though she had allied herself with them and their cause questioned her loyalties. Tegan did not serve any man or God but herself or at least it seemed on the surface. In truth there was something more at play, something only Tegan seemed to see, and the rest of the Galaxy was blind too. The Jedi and the Sith were too weak to fight what she saw coming but the Maw might be willing to do what it takes to destroy a future coming storm she saw.



She watched as the Starlin Rand escaped the room and then Syd Celsius fight her way to the symbol on the wall. Tegan took it all in from the repulsor lift she stood on. She wondered for a moment if either of them the young Jedi and the Elder mentor could make the true sacrifices needed to save a world. There was ancient Paecian saying “There is always a sacrifice to be made, so the rest may remain, and the future can reign.” Tegan herself had made her sacrifice more than a thousand life times ago.



She just watched as Syd fought against the chaos to the point of suppressing it to some degree. Then the flames began to surround Tegan. It was funny she had mastered many forms of magick but even after all this time she still struggled with fire magick. It was the one thing she envied about her younger sister Ryn who had more then mastered the art of the flame. This was only a passing thought as the flames swirled around her pushing in trying to consume her.



Tegan just took a deep breath and stuck her right hand out into he flames. There were a thousand ways Tegan could have countered the flames after all Cryomancy and Hydromancy were two of the elemental magicks she had first mastered. Her hand in the flame she bit down on her tongue and closed her eyes and let the pain flood in as the forearm of her Jacket and the eltro life glove began to melt to her skin on her right arm and hand. She wanted to scream but held it back as she bit down hard on her tongue drawing blood. The burn slowly crept up her arm the pain was excruciating but as the flame just about reached her elbow a large burst of energy ignited from all around Tegan.



A Massive force blast ignited out from Tegan in every direction as it happened, she screamed finally.

“aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

The pent-up rage and pain from the fire ignited the burst and at the same time her mind crown shut down the force field protecting the hanger from the dead of space. All the heat and air was immediately sucked out of the room a deep cold set in one that couldn’t be countered so easily. The fires were snuffed of oxygen but did go out completely but do to the burst of the force blast all around Tegan scattered it in all direction. Tegan’s grav boots that had helped her counter the gravity fluctuations released their mag hold and she floated upwards free of the repulsor lift. As she drifted upwards the oxygen was sapped from her lungs the rebreather in her helmet hadn’t kicked in yet, she wondered if the jedi who had just saved the chiss child earlier now realized she had just killed them. Her right arm was a burnt and scarred mess and mostly useless now but still she smiled in her oxygen deprived brain at the thought that one of the chiss children was saved just to die.

Soon the emergency systems would kick in and return normal gravity and air to the hanger, but it would be to long of a time for the child or anyone who didn’t have a breathing apparatus or a way through the force to sustain themselves.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

​

Location: High Orbit over Csilla
Commanding: Fatalis-class Star Dreadnought
Allies: Aldo Garrick , Talon Kyber, CETCOM , Derix Tirall, Kuric Taumin, Subject 54 Havoc
Foes: Teica Giraan , Albrecht F. Herlock , Constantine Oliva , Ryv , Thale, Roudac Gannan , Natasi Fortan , Gallius Orcana , Adhira Chandra, Auteme, Rahmmon Barkai , Olen Halcorr , Charlotte Reed, Korynn Sol-Syna

When the Mercy fired, there had been a moment of collective fanaticism, of dark hope renewed. To see the weapon unleashed, sweeping away so many infidel lives in an instant, had been beyond inspiring. To watch as the enemy fleets scrambled to react had been gratifying and amusing as well; uncertain of how soon the weapon would fire again, fearful that it might obliterate another vast swath of them, they had given in to baser instincts. Some had charged, trying to take cover from the superlaser by engaging the Brotherhood fleet at point blank. Others had scattered, trying to spread out so they couldn't all be hit. Some had retreated from the battle entirely.

But the gift of that single, almighty shot was already beginning to fade.

"Our shields are beginning to collapse, Taskmaster," one of the Fatalis's bridge officers reported. Tu'teggacha's tendrils squirmed in a dance of frenetic agitation. Gallius Orcana had committed a significant task force to engaging the Maw flagship, which was still holding position over the Chancellor's vessel as it was boarded. If he had the option, the Ebruchi would have fallen back from their attack position and let the unified defensive screen obliterate the incoming foes... but he could not retreat until the boarding parties had finished their work. If they took much longer, though, they might be left with only drifting debris to retreat to.

Orcana's direct assault wasn't the only problem. Their enemies continued to multiply, fleet after fleet after fleet jumping in from hyperspace, until it seemed that the Csilla system had more warships than Yavin IV had piranha beetles. The First Order in particular seemed to have pulled out all the stops, deploying so many military assets that Tu'teggacha wondered who exactly was left to defend the home front. But then, the Chiss had been their allies in the past; their aid was likely far more welcome than that of the New Imperial Order, which had (temporarily) put aside open war with the Chiss to be here, and might actually have been requested by the Ascendancy.

The Brotherhood's Taskmaster was not a natural admiral. Ordinarily, he was not an admiral at all, keeping to his prison cells and torture chambers in the depths of Holy Gehinnom. As such, his grasp of fleet tactics was not so great as that of a veteran officer, or probably even a recent graduate of a naval academy. Still, two things were evident to him: that the superlaser blast had not swayed the tide of battle for long, and that the sheer size of the forces arrayed against them meant they were almost certainly doomed to defeat. The plan to kidnap the Chancellor might buy them a little time, if they could pull it off, but such tricks could accomplish only so much.

Tu'teggacha was not a zealot. He did not believe in the Avatars, really, or the Final Dawn and the supposed rebirth that would come after. He certainly did not believe that any dark reward awaited him after he died. He had joined the Brotherhood to feast on suffering, and he had fed well since their return to the galaxy. It would be easy for him to abandon this battle, to take the Fatalis and harvest his own misery as a pirate across the lightly-defended systems of the Outer Rim; in fact, that was the only thing that made sense for anyone who believed in self-preservation. But for some reason, Tu'teggacha did not run. Perhaps faith had, in some way, touched him after all.

Behind the Fatalis, the Mercy opened up with all of its defensive batteries, a withering barrage of turbolaser fire that streaked out between the vessels of the defensive screen. A little hope stirred in the Taskmaster's black heart, and he began to issue commands once more. "Call up our support vessels to the attack. If this New Imperial Order battlegroup thinks to decapitate us, we will not permit them without a fight." The four Crucifix I-class destroyers that escorted the Fatalis rushed up beside it, a halo of turbolaser fire erupting around them. If they could not fall back to relative safety yet, they would engage Gallius Orcana here and now.

The Crucifixes were heavily armored at the front, and relied on that armor to close the distance to the enemy. While two took up positions beside the Fatalis, adding their own firepower to the super star destroyer's mighty batteries as they opened up in a general barrage against the NIO battleground, the other two accelerated to ramming speed; one headed straight for the NIV Proudheart while the other targeted the NIV Conqueror, trying to open the fight by snapping some of the largest enemies in two with their ramming prows. They fired on their targets as they advanced, opening up with ion cannon turrets, XX-9 turbolaser batteries, and concussion missiles.

They targeted the enemy's engines, trying to keep them from moving out of the ram's path.

The Fatalis, meanwhile, focused its fire on clearing some of the smaller enemy vessels. Its huge Megacaliber Six turbolaser cannons and mass drivers sent out the heavy ordnance, while its turbolaser batteries laid down a withering hail of acid-green supportive fire around the shots of those big guns. Between the batteries of the Fatalis and the heavy fire that Subject 54 Havoc was directing from the Mercy, a huge lightshow was erupting from the Maw's lines and heading straight for the engaging NIO vessels. The show of force was important; if they couldn't knock out Orcana and his ships quickly, he might soon be reinforced by one of the many recent arrivals.

If that happened, the Fatalis would almost certainly be either forced back or destroyed.

Meanwhile, at the edge of the Maw's defensive line, the Crucifix-class destroyer Charnel Temple received an odd transmission from Korum Krov . "We read you, Noga," the ship's captain replied. "If this prisoner has knowledge of the incoming forces, he should be interrogated immediately. You may bring him aboard." Although the marauder crew was suspicious, they knew a simple truth: they needed every advantage they could get if they were going to survive this battle. Besides, their ship was huge compared to the Noga. If the little vessel tried any funny business, or if this whole thing turned out to be a trick, they would open fire immediately.

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

Fatalis, a Fatalis-class Star Dreadnought	Holding position, firing on the NIV Revanchist and NIV Faith of Steel
Poisoned Veins, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Accelerating to ram the NIV Proudheart
Crimson Offering, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Accelerating to ram the NIV Conqueror
Severing Blade, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Holding position, firing on the NIV Revanchist
Sanguine Cruor, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Holding position, firing on the NIV Faith of Steel

 

[Sylvia Virtos]

Yesterday, you ran away
Elle Mors

---

​

Oh.

How one simple word could cause so much insecurity within a person. While Sylvia still saw Ellie as an irreplaceable friend she'd do anything for, she also felt a great sense of distance created by the blonde. That feeling was summed up in that single word. All this time spent thinking she was dead, yet still looking for her, the spacer never even considered how Ellie would even feel about her anymore. That one oh made her fear the worst, that the friendship they once had was gone.

A fear that was all but confirmed when Ellie spoke again. She really had messed things up beyond repair. A lump formed in her throat as she kept her eyes fixated on the speeder as she knelt down into the snow, placing a hand where the engine was located. From there, she went over all of its systems, which all seemed to still be intact except for the steering mechanism. It wasn't broken entirely, but keeping the thing under control was going to be a lot more difficult now. Focusing on that gave her an excuse to not comment on what Ellie had told her before. She couldn't accept having to say goodbye again yet.

"That makes two of us," Sylvia answered as she got back up to her feet and pulled the speeder upright again. She then quickly shoved off the snow from the seat. "But we're alive. We can learn. We just gotta get out of here, first." She patted on the back of the long seat, inviting Ellie to get on before mounting up in front of the steering mechanism herself. With the inner pain she felt she couldn't bear to show her face to Ellie while it was still etched into her expression, unwilling to show the conflict she felt. She still needed to gather her courage to tell her to come with her. She still had some time before it was too late again.

"I have things I really want to tell you. Need to tell you. I just need time to find the right words. Is... is that okay?"

She felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment, but after years of failing to open up this could've very well been the last chance she never thought she'd get. Maybe she could buy a little more time this way.

"It should still work fine, but the steering's a little busted. Just hold on tight," Sylvia explained as she let the engine roar to life, quickly changing the subject. There wasn't much of anything to actually hold on to other than the spacer herself, though. After taking a deep breath to put a slight smile on her face, hiding the whirlwind of thoughts, she looked over her shoulder. Knowing Ellie, she probably still knew regardless. Habits were hard to break.

"Ready?"