Annihilation Head of the Snake: BotM Annihilation of Csilla

[Julian Qar]

Allies: Halketh , DECEASED Erskine Barran
Location: First Trench with Undead and Moon Children
Open For Interaction + Medical Care​

• d r o w n •​

[prologue]

+ + + +
​

Tiny slivers of light pushed through the cracks in the curtains, casting lines of gentle neon through the penthouse room. It was peaceful there for once now that things seem to nestle into some sense of balance and order. But even then the man stirred, feeling the walls around him tighten, collapsing in on him and restricting his breathing. It was all a metaphor for what turmoil wracked his mind at all hours of the night. It was a nightmare.

Without hesitation, Julian pulled himself from his dreams, forcing the golden optic to focus on the makeshift sheep that dance along the ceiling. He shook his head, wiping down his face only to catch his breath.

The ticking timepiece struck four in the morning, only a few hours shy of a deployment schedule they kept. Julian was prepared now, yet this mission was not one he would be invited to.

Calculated hands lifted the medic off the bed, stretching or rather recalibrating tightened limbs before he wandered over to the closest to grab his things. He didn’t have to go. The Vulture made mention that no one aside from him and The Perished would be going on the mission - it was suicide.

The doctor understood its purpose and yet all the good in his life couldn't rid him of a feeling that had burrowed itself deep within. It was a burning force that hid away in the back of his metallic skull, lifting its heads and sinking its claws into his throat whenever it had a chance. It wore no face, no name to claim its own but a feeling - Insignificance.

This was a deadly infection even the skilled surgeon couldn’t excise the rot that burrowed deep within the core of his heart.

He cupped his holo tags, slipping them over his head after he’d finally suiting up in attire that wasn’t his own. Snow trooper garb, drenched in all white, his trusted rifle slung over his shoulder and his hip pack pinned to his side. He was ready.

There would be a brief moment of hesitation as he finished the note and slipped it beside her on the nightstand. She would understand…

A promise is a promise, I’ll be back.


• E P I N E P H R I N E •
+ + + +
​

Haste forced the rifle against the snow, frantically replacing its emptied magazine. There would be a split second in which he granted himself a breath, sucking what air he could through the fog-filled mask of his helmet. His vision tricked his thoughts to replay the flash of crimson light in the sky, teasing the end for a split second before it dissipated into the atmosphere. There was no time to dwell on it, but perhaps this was the reminder he needed to push forth, despite what pain he felt plucking at every living nerve in his body.

Steady, he propped the rifle on the lip of the trench, shoving its stationary arm into the spaces he’d dug prior. One. Two. Three shots were fired at the horde. The force pushed deeply into the groove in his shoulder created by the impact of his weapon. The pain was magnificent, peeling away at his inhibitions and forcing him to teeter that line where he’d no longer had any control over himself or his thoughts. He had zeroed out, not seeing nothing but red outlines of enemies with skulls lining the tops of their heads. One by one he’d pull away their skulls from their necks, watched as their sternums burst into flames, exploding outward and leaving holes within their cavities exposing their tainted hearts to the end of the world.

Click. Click. Click

The sound caused him to groan, forcing his hands to search his pack, he didn’t much else left on him but two magazines. The adjudicator was already depleted, what else did he have? Without thinking the medic thrust himself into the pile of Moon Children, plucking a blade from his boot to conserve what ammo was left. The impact of the blade to flesh was a symphony of sizzles and drips of ichor as it pulled apart tissue, spewing bits of marrow and blood onto the tainted soil beneath his boot. Each cut was precise, calculated - surgical in nature.

The whites of his eyes seemed to illuminate with fire, he was on another plane altogether, grunting and shoving his body into the thrall like a ravenous animal after his first meal. The doctor’s dance earned him a heavy strike against his chest, pinching the plate of his chest guard against the soft tissue underneath. Julian fell to his knees, panting, winded from the intense hit but he wouldn’t falter.

“COME ON!!”

“S’that all you fucken got?!”

For the first time, his voice rang out with rage, digging his heels deep into the ground, finding his footing while he lunged forward. The oath was thrown to the wayside, his nature of healing challenged by his will to survive. At that moment he was not standing as a doctor amongst those men he was just like them, a soldier, fighting to scorch their ranks with the wrath of the iron sun.



█ █ █

 

[CETCOM]

Maw Irregular Fleet

• Resurrection-Class Battlecruiser [x1]
  • 8 Starfighter Squadrons [TIE/ENs + TIE Clutches]
• Avenger-Class Star Destroyers [x6]
  • 48 Starfighter Squadrons [TIE Clutches + Nssis-Class Clawcraft]
• Crucifix-Class Star Destroyers [x6]
  • 6 Starfighter Squadrons [TIE Clutches + Nssis-Class Clawcraft]
• Veles-Class Star Destroyers [x3]
  • 12 Starfighter Squadrons [TIE Clutches + Nssis-Class Clawcraft]

Overseer Pryce watched as the Space Battle raged around him. The Maw Irregular Fleet had taken defensive position around the Mercy Superweapon but had yet to engage enemy Forces. The Battle was far more chaotic and destructive then Pryce had expected so a variety of enemy Fleets closing in against the Mawite Naval Forces but still even when surrounded and outnumbered the Brotherhood of the Maw stayed strong and remained defiant after all their main objective was to hold off the Enemy Fleet and protect the Mercy. "Sir , we're receiving instructions from High Regent Tirall. He wants us to engage the First Order's Carrier Division"

Pryce thought about this. The Hand of Purification had never fought the First Order before but then yet again their Fleet posed perhaps the largest threat to them on the Battlefield. "Scan their Ships , that of the First Order Carrier Division. I want to know every bit of information we can get on them , their armament , their defenses , advanced systems and strengths and weaknesses. Then once we get what we want move in to engage them" Pryce ordered. After a few minutes the scan was completed and the Captain of the Purifier informed Pryce of their Progress.

"Sir , we've completed the scan" the Captain said. "And?" Pryce asked seeking results. "The Carrier Division is comprised of 5 Ships , 1 Battlecarrier , 3 Escort Carriers and 1 Corvette the First two equipped with a lesser amount of Weaponry then our Warship and having a combined Starfighter Capacity that is inferior to the Maw Irregular Fleet. Should i continue sir?" the Captain said realizing Pryce had turned his attention elsewhere. "No that would be enough. Alright , begin engagement with the First Imperial Carrier Division and move the Fleet to intercept."

Thus , the Maw Irregular Fleet made their advance headed towards the enemy Carrier Division. The fighters soon made their Attack rushing towards the First Imperial Carrier Division as the Maw Irregular Fleet prepared to prove their worth on the Battlefield.



Tags [Engaging] | Roudac Gannan
Tags [Supporting] | Derix Tirall | Talon Kyber

 

[Khaostra Devoid]

Post: 5
Objective: Raise a little hell
Location: Expeditionary Library
Equipment: Red Midnight Duster | Red Sith Armor | Sith Mask | Grav Boots | CrushGaunts | x2 White lightsabers | Forearm Lanvorak | Wrist Laser | Variety of Explosives | RSKF-44 heavy blaster | X-21 shock glove (Stored in her coat pocket) | ion Shovel | Mining Laser
Auxiliary Equpment: X8 EV-series supervisor droid (EV-4D9 load out) | Mining Rig Exo Skeleton | Hot Mess (Ship)
Allies: The Mongrel | BotM
Enemies: The Defenders
Tags: Open

---

Khaos chuckled to herself as the Bloodsworn arrived and started causing a commotion by pushing over shelves and filing cabinets starting fires and hunting down the security forces. She was also glad to see some back they could take care of this facility quickly. It wasn’t long and one Khaos presumed was their main leader approached her. “Good” She replied quickly as one of her droids commed her.


“We found the main frame access point.”


“Send schematics of the building to the rigs holocumputer. Then begin a search for where a comprehensive list Ascendancy asset’s might be located. Search for location of there star maps of the unknown regions and where they will be located. “ She knew the EV-series would begin work imdiately she then turned to the Bloodsworn.


“We will take the facility level by level placing the explosives on every level. “ She pointed near the borehole where the rest of the EV series droids were preparing the explosives. “On the bottom floor should be and access tunnel that leads to a tram that can take us directly into the city of Csaplar.“ Technically it could take them to Csaplar or Ac'siel but Csaplar would be there next target. First they need to take this building once they had then they would move onto that part of the plan. Though that was the plan take out the Library and then burn the city to the ground.


A data was sent to the mining rigs computer a beeping signifying the information had been found and transmitted to her. She then sent a message back to the EV Series Droids. There Job was to retrieve the information she had asked the main droid to find. She turned back to the Blood sworn. “Keep the droids protected as we good floor to floor, they are getting information that will help us systematically destroy the Chiss after there homeworld is gone.” She nodded and the bloodswarm began the charge for the next floor down taking both stairs and turbo lifts to access the level from several points. The droids followed carrying the explosives while the main droid knew his mission was to get the information needed. Khaos followed behind them all in the exoskeleton rig.

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Csilla, Expeditionary Library
Allies: Kyrel Ren, Maestus , Lirka Ka , UX-0626 , Chimera , Khaostra Devoid
Foes: Major Bennett Hall, Liza, FN-999, DECEASED Erskine Barran , Tyrell Lockhart , Himm'vaun'merek, Aerarii Tithe , Maple Harte, Jabez Melidoru, Halketh

The Expeditionary Library had been maintained for many centuries now, and contained an incredible store of knowledge. It was the pride and joy of the Ascendancy... and that made it a perfect target. Its destruction would demoralize the Chiss, a perfect representation of the fate that the Brotherhood had planned for all of Chiss space. But that would be a moot point if the entire planet was destroyed, as was the plan. The true reason to come here was to seize knowledge.

Khaostra Devoid knew it, even if the merely-destructive Bloodsworn did not. The star charts here, along with the records of the Ascendancy's every battle and scouting encounter throughout centuries of patrolling the Unknown Regions, would allow the Heathen Priests to plot the systematic conquest of the Chiss colonies. They would learn things that mere scouts and spies could not tell them, and they would wield those secrets as weapons. Once Csilla was neutralized, the Chiss houses would fall one by one, their rich agriworlds and military depots fueling the Maw's future conquests.

While the Bloodsworn did not see the big picture, they understood two things: first, that they were now under Khaostra's command, and second, that she was giving them ample opportunity to loot and pillage. The Marauders chanted praises to the Avatars as they descended to the next level, readying their wide array of close-combat weapons: scatterguns, vibroblades, disruptor pistols, and even more brutal tools of death. They would need them. While the security forces on the first level had been quickly butchered, those on the lower levels had been given a little time to dig in and set up defensive positions.

In a howling mass, the tribesmen burst out of the stairwells and onto the next level, moving to protect Khaostra's droids... mostly by killing everything else. The Chiss defenders had overturned tables to serve as cover, and lurked around every corner. Many Bloodsworn dropped in the initial volley of defensive fire, a wave of disciplined attacks by well-trained Ascendancy soldiers. But there were far too many of them, and they were far too fierce, to be held back for long. When they finally pushed their way over their comrades' bodies and reached the Chiss, they tore them apart. It was a quick and grisly spectacle.

Of course, no escape or retreat could be permitted; that might give these guards a chance to warn Cspalar about the tide of blood that was preparing to descend upon the city. So another group of Bloodsworn took the turbolift to the bottom level, the tram station. Their blades made quick work of the Chiss defenders, who had not expected the tribesmen to arrive yet; the look on the faces of the Chiss when the turbolifts opened to reveal screaming marauders, rather than their own retreating forces coming to reinforce them, was one worth savoring. Soon the last of them had been hunted down and thrown onto the rails.

With this bloody work complete, the tribesmen took up defensive positions all around the tram station. Now they would squeeze the remaining defenders between them, like a serpent crushing prey between its coils. The Chiss on the levels between Khaostra's descending droids and the Bloodsworn on the bottom level would be left with nowhere to go. Soon the library would be silent, a makeshift tomb... and then, when the explosives went off, it would be nothing at all. Back on the second sublevel, the marauders cleaned their weapons, checked their injuries and losses, and watched over the droids as they planted the charges.

Soon they would descend to unleash more death.

 

[Maestus]

Arrived was one way to put it. More like, exploded onto the Vice Chancellor's presence with thunderous roars. The Chosen began to lay waste to anything that moved. Or, thought about moving. A truly fearsome sight to behold. Though not her full complement of 40, the 8 with her moved as one. When one would strike, another would deflect incoming blows at his fellow. If, for sake of argument, one would fall, his brother leapt into his place.

As for Maestus, she was in the thick of it. Utterly terrible, the epitome of chaos. With one hand, she knocked back 2 of Aerarii Tithe personal protection team with barely a flick of her wrist. In her other hand blazed the vicious purple lightsaber, cleaving a man in twain as one would a hot knife through butter. Perhaps it was her face that was most terrifying. Her black eyes blazed brightly with red flames surrounding them. Her lips were curled into a smirk.

As his men began to die, Maestus looked to the Vice Chancellor across the field of battle. Her eyes, those of the pure Dark Side, bore into his own. She lifted her lightsaber, and pointed it at him. Her hand steady and firm, no wavering from the cold. Her lips moved slowly, enunciating her short statement with venom.

I come. ​

​

 

[Enedina Tal]

Galidraani Free state
Allies: DECEASED Erskine Barran Tyrell Lockhart FN-999
Enemies: Chimera The Mongrel

"DIE!"

She screamed in abject anger and rage, grabbing the wounded raider by the scuff of his tunic and stopping him from crawling out of the trench she had called home for the past hour or five. Positioning herself behind the man who by now lacked half an arm, Enedina controlled her ragged breathing and brought the shovel crashing down on the back of the man repeatedly with increasing fury before splitting his bald head open. Temporarily distracted in that moment, a rough hand grabbed the Galidraani girl by the arm and threw her back into the trench, causing the Tal girl to land on her back with a cry. Enedina looked up and turned on her side grabbing whatever she could, spotting a jagged piece of metal and snatching it, the sharp edges causing blood to seep out of palm. Wasting no time, she gritted her teeth and jammed the shrapnel in the man's foot, causing him to fall against the crater's side in agony. Enedina moved to finish the man off with her shovel, but another came at her; the other raider tried to slash at Enedina, but she deftly sidestepped and smashed her gloved fist into the man's face. She felt the cheekbones give, and she brought her sharpened shovel down on the man's hip. Her weapon went under the man's defence and pulverised the hip bone. The man screamed as bones were broken, and he toppled to his back. Enedina exhaled sharply and brought her shovel down on both incapacitated men's heads until their bodies went still.


A familiar rough voice called out, but amid the melee, she did not register it; a feeling of anxiety rose in her stomach, something was out there amongst the hordes; someone was watching her. ​

 

[Matma Bernu]

STEALTH TROOP TRANSPORT
OBJECTIVE III:
DUEL OF THE FATES

"We'll see, when this is all over", Matma responded shortly to Juliana as he made his way onto the transport. He didn't mean to be short, but there wasn't much he could do- communications had been blacked out. He only hope his family had made their way to something resembling shelter in the midst of the carnage on Csilla. He and the Knights strapped themselves in, and blasted off to the battlestation.

Clinically, Matma viewed the battle playing out in front of him. There space was filled with all types of crafts- from the X-Wings of the Galactic Alliance, to the TIEs of the First Order to the NIO, and the unmistakeable "uglies" that the Brotherhood had scrounged up in their conquests across the Unknown Regions. Then his vision blacked as the vision of a one-eyed Raven beamed into his mind- a Force User? Matma reeled, then, gathering his fortitutde, expelled the interloper before responding in kind:

WE ARE COMING.
AND WE WILL BATHE THE STARS IN YOUR BLOOD.

As that episode transpired, somehow, the transport had miraculously avoided being inadvertantly rammed into by other craft, and had sidled alongside the Mercy. With a 'thump', the transport had attached itself to the hull, and began boring it's way through. Matma closed his eyes. He could sense the panic of the crewman on the other side- there were already a number of Jedi aboard, causing chaos, reeking havoc. They probably thought they were just another group of them, or some ill-conceived stratagem.

They could only hope.

As soon as the indicators notified the boarding party that the breach had completed, Matma roared and pushed with the Force, sending the hull flying- and crushing anyone who was unfortunate enough to be in the path of destruction. He was first out, lightsaber ablaze as he decapitated a marauder then, with a flourish, cleaved another one from head to navel.

"Keep on the pressure", Matma roared, thoughts of violence and retribution dancing in his head.

Allies: Juliana Alderdice | The Major | Rolf Amsel | Matma Bernu
Enemies: Gren Blidh​

 

[Gallius Orcana]

ALLIES | NIO | GA | NJO |EE | CIS | FO | CA | Captain Herlock | Constantine Oliva | Teica Giraan | Ryv | Thale | Roudac Gannan |
ENEMIES | BotM |TK | SE | WotS | Tu'teggacha | Aldo Garrick | Talon Kyber | CETCOM | Derix Tirall | Subject 54 Havoc


NIV PRIDE OF THE EMPEROR

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
AZURE HAMMER COMMAND

BLACK SKY​

The Azure Hammer Command engaged at speed, accelerating to overpass the Galactic Alliance's fleet and its flagship. The maneuvre was simple, brutal, even. It reflected Gallius's strategic decision: the Mercy would not fire on his own fleet, and if it decided to do so, the superweapon would drag its most powerful battleship to death and damnation whilst destroying an imperial battlegroup.

The Commodore had decided to take the Fatalis to the throat. The dreadnought was supporting the boarding actions against the Galactic Alliance, and if the Brothers of the Maw wanted to come back to their vessels, they would have to do it through the Imperials' fleet. The only thing that could help now was support from the First Order and its massive fleet. Gallius had understood their high-ranking leaders were there, and their might could be sufficient enough to turn the tide.

The Pride of the Emperor hammered through the forward vessels of the Maw, directing its impetuous charge towards the weakened battleship. The eleven vessels followed, pressing forward as the Fatalis faced its first shield failures. The fleet positioned itself in a circular shape, the heavier vessels facing the dreadnought. Hovering slightly under the ecliptic layer, the Imperial vessels would aim for the heavy megacaliber cannons, whilst being protected from the upper weapons of the super star destroyer.

And then it came.

The superweapon striked again, aiming for the now-dispersed fleet. The two last ships of the formation, the Faith of Steel and the Azure Avenger disappeared from radars, and the Revanchist lost its shields in the deflagration.

Gallius howled. The strength rating had been reequilibrated, and four star destroyers were now joining the fray. The Anaxsi had to react quickly before the tide of the battle turned. He rose from his seat and began shouting his orders across the bridge, his fury now entirely awaken.

"Alright soldiers! Time to strike back at these barbarians! Rearrange the Command into a classical Holt's Fist: we lead the charge, the Caçadores escort the cruisers. Deploy the remaining Frigate to cover the Proudheart. The Conqueror and the Donnagers have our right flank. The Inceptus cover our back...

My orders are clear soldiers! The Pride of the Emperor crushes the battleship with the corvettes, the Proudheart assists us in doing so. The rest of the fleet will handle the Crucifix as quickly as possible. Full power on the weapons, aim for their mega-calibre weapons! Deploy Razor Squadron and target the bridge with them. Prepare squadrons 3 to 7 for a bombing run on starboard side's mega-calibre."

Then the Commodore came to the observation pane, watching as the Mercy disappeared from his sight, masked by the Fatalis. Now, the Imperial fleet was shielded, ironically, by the Maw's own warship. If the planet-killer wanted to erase Gallius and his ships from existence, it would have to destroy a significant part of the battleship. In the end, Gallius's death meant nothing if he accomplished what he had intended: destroying the Fatalis to allow the other allied vessels to break through and reach the main target.

The imperial ships acted as best as possible, rushing to their objectives. The powerful broadside weapons of the Cuirassier-class Cruisers unleashed a green death to the enemy, aiming to cause as much destruction as possible, even if their own shields failed. It would not matter for the overly protected Cruisers, as their three meters-thick armour could handle regular turbolasers for a certain time. The other vessels were executing order much more classically, trying to spare their shields whilst striking to their respective targets.

With the combined might of ten Imperial vessels and reinforcements bound to join him, Gallius felt confident. He watched as the Noga and the Pride of Anaxes approached the Maw vessels, obviously up to something. They would be the perfect distraction for the Azure Hammer Command. They needed just that: a diversion in order to last as long as possible, long enough to destroy the Fatalis.

NIV Pride of the Emperor. This is Natasi Fortan of the First Order; please confirm connection to Commodore Orcana. Commodore, Allegiant General Gannan has directed First Order fleets to position themselves above and away from that battlestation's firing arc. Our readings suggest that its firing angle is limited to more or less that what we just witnessed, and it doesn't seem to have the ability to shift its orientation effectively. In other words, if our fleets arrange themselves outside of the reach of that beam array, we can concentrate firepower on that battlestation with minimal risk of being hit by that beam. Thoughts, Commodore? Allegiant General, feel free to elaborate if you have more to add.​

The communication was surprising, and its content was much more surprising. Instead of fighting, the First Order chose to hide, denying him all the support he could have hoped for. The tactical decision made sense, but for Gallius, it was a dangerous course of thoughts. Cowardice was not hiding very far away from tactical withdrawal, and the First Order was giving material to the Commodore, and he could very elaborate an acid answer, prompt to mock his interlocutor's proposal of hiding instead of fighting. But he had not to upset the First Order if he wanted reinforcements. As such, he swallowed his answer and remained as cordial as he could whilst approaching a kilometre-wide battleship.

"The proposal is kind, Grand Moff. However, I am locked in combat with an enemy force multiple times my size and strength. Would you care to send some reinforcements in? The best solution to win this battle remains to create an opening in the Maw's defence to reach the Mercy, which is exactly what I am doing. As you may have noticed, I have drawn the planet-killer's attention and already lost two ships. Many more, including mine, will follow if I cannot destroy the Super Star Destroyer in time."

The tone was sarcastic, ironic, but it reflected Gallius mental state: his perpetual quest for jest had led to this stressed but humourful composure, made of multiple, outside of the box, small references to jokes he had said earlier in his life.

All this humour did not solve Gallius's double problem : destroying the Fatalis and destroying the Mercy.

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

NIV Pride of the Emperor	Cuirassier-class Cruiser	- Fully crewed, Active	Gallius Orcana Gallius Orcana
NIV Proudheart	Valiant-class Star Destroyer	- Fully crewed, Active	Captain Bel Kiez - NPC
NIV Conqueror	Cuirassier-class Cruiser	- Fully crewed, Active	Captain Kir Ralkhone - NPC
NIV Revanchist	Donnager-class Star Destroyer	- Fully crewed, Active	Captain Gar Ventanus - NPC
NIV Faith of Steel	Donnager-class Star Destroyer	- Destroyed	Commander Julius Xanos - NPC - KIA
NIV Shadow of the Emperor	Donnager-class Star Destroyer	- Fully crewed, Active	Commander Ma'nuu'roduo - NPC
NIV Anaxes's Honour	Inceptus-class Assault Ship	- Fully crewed, Active	Commander Viel Haskler - NPC
NIV Iron Fist	Inceptus-class Assault Ship	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant-Commander Jurg Haskler - NPC
NIV Fury of Kraig	Escolta-class Frigate	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant-Commander TK-32097
NIV Azure Avenger	Escolta-class Frigate	- Destroyed	Lieutenant Helbrecht Teshik - NPC - KIA
NIV Imperial Hand	Caçadores-class Corvette	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant Dek Rakad - NPC
NIV Eternal Crusader	Caçadores-class Corvette	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant Fulthius Rax - NPC

​

 

[Ziroka]

Location: Trenches/Local Landing Zone
Interactions: UX-0626 | FN-999 | Kaleleon | The Mongrel
Allies: Chiss and Allies
Enemies: Invaders

​

It was confirmed over comms, artillery support would not come. She understood why, they were busy targeting the mass of enemies rushing forward. It made more sense to target something with a higher hit chance, but she could have at least had some smoke dropped on that location. Still, she was getting snipers, she just had to wait for them to arrive. And thankfully, the NIO commander wasn't lying. They arrived to the landing shuttle platform for shuttle 2AA. Ziroka saw them as she continued to watch the rear, shouting "get down! The Sniper is watching our position!" She waited for them to get into the trenches or into whatever preferred position they felt ideal, before repeating the coordinates of the sniper. If they had a map, she could probably help more clearly to the snipers location. When they started to get their sights on the sniper, Ziroka had other plans.

Then there was the fact her cousin acknowledged her. It wasn't of praise, and it wasn't of anger, it was neutral. Just as a Chiss should treat the situation. She was an officer on the ground and needed support as their trench line was falling apart from an enemy sniper. But she felt it would be personal, since she used his name. It wasn't so much her name, since she wasn't exactly a prodigy of the family. But since she was treated properly, with the appropriate Chiss-like tradition and way, it boosted her confidence to behave more properly. She could do this, this was her home. Every bit counts.

When they were waiting for the snipers, Ziroka told her team to not stick their heads out under any circumstances. Her thoughts were on the Jedi who looked near death, out in the open on the battlefield. Once the Snipers relayed they were in position, Ziroka called to her team over the comms. "When you start hearing the NIO Snipers opening fire on the enemy fire, we're moving out. There's a Jedi out there, and I'm not sure how much more they can take. They are a bit out from the trenches, and I don't think they're in a good condition to retreat by themselves. I know they're not Chiss.... but they are here, helping us fight. We might just be able to survive if we help one another, at least once. I'm only asking you to trust me just once." A few minutes were spent as they waited for the snipers to get ready, giving the soldiers ample time to converse amongst themselves. Ziroka was new at this, and decent speeches weren't part of her forte, especially since she was bad at talking. But like the tests said, she showed promise.

There it went, the sound of NIO snipers firing off, hoping this would give her and her team some cover, she jumped out from the trenches. "Let's go, get up, get out, we're pushing forward!" She pushed forward, almost running, towards the Jedi on the battlefield. "This is Iʀɪᴢɪ'ʀᴏᴋ'ᴀᴍᴍɪ to local Chiss soldiers in the trenches near my location," she chirped up over the comms while her team provided covering fire from oncoming enemy waves as she started to fire at the jedi's opponent ( The Mongrel ), "requesting covering fire to pull a friendly back into the trenches for medical aide, over." She wasn't concerned with actually hitting the enemy, but to disway them from fighting. It was more important to get the Jedi into cover, than to get a kill at this moment. Hopefully the local Chiss soldiers opening up on the enemy's location would also upset their current plans. It was unknown when, or how many, weapons would fire on the Jedi's opponent, but Ziroka couldn't just order such a thing to happen. Chiss had a chain of command, and she would have to wait, probably minutes before a general or commander approved of it. In the mean time, they were still clambering through hordes of enemies, and her team was taking hits. Even though they had trench covering fire in general, they were exposed. Four men down.​

 

[Yula Perl]

Dagon Kaze - TK-818 ​

“Sounds charming.” Yula muttered as they darted through the halls, rounding corners with haste. They knew the rough location of the reactor thanks to some cursory scanning and what they’d receive from the SIA ops—but getting there would be a different matter when each corridor looked the same as the last. “We’d better find it quick then, before he fin—oh fething hell!!”

A palpable rage announced the Ren’s presence a split second before twin doors screeched open. He greeted the pair with a series of ruthless, unyielding attacks, forcing them back and further down the hall. Yula had to duck in order to narrowly avoid the arc of his weapon, nearly being sliced from her chest to her throat in the burst of rapid strikes. She’d leaped back in time for the curve of the blade to shear off a tendril of her hair, the vibro-tension traveling to her scalp.

Irritation soured her face as she cupped her hair back with one hand, cursing her lack of foresight to tie it up beforehand. Oh well.

As Dagon took lead on distracting their opponent in the narrow hall, Yula raised her hands to the ceiling. She’d gotten an idea of how shallows the durasteel alloy panels were once the Ren had burst in, and so she sent the Force from her fingertips to the plating, searching for the electricity behind them. With a kinetic hold wrapped around the wires and a grunt of concentration and exertion, she snapped the waist, smashing her hands to the floor and bringing down several panels. The wires behind them surged like vines, hissing and crackling violently in a shower of live sparks and debris.

Whether or not her target ended up ensnared by the snarl of cables would be up to fate.

 

[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 , Captain Herlock, Constantine Oliva , Ryv, Thale, Roudac Gannan , Natasi Fortan, Gallius Orcana , Adhira Chandra , Auteme, Rahmmon Barkai, Olen Halcorr , Charlotte Reed, Korynn Sol-Syna, Liedran Kathause

Tu'teggacha watched with great satisfaction as concentrated fire from the Fatalis and Sanguine Cruor, supported by the Mercy's batteries, ripped through the NIV Faith of Steel, bringing down the enemy star destroyer. The destruction of one of Gallius Orcana 's capital ships would help break the momentum of his assault... and that was sorely needed. The NIO battlegroup still significantly outnumbered the Maw vessels defending the boarding party, and the continuous fire they were pouring into the Brotherhood flagship was taking its toll. It was clear that they were trying to take down the Fatalis before it could withdraw.

Although the shields and armor of the Super Star Destroyer were mighty, defenses meant to hold back severe punishment, they were rapidly weakening under the intense enemy barrage. While Derix Tirall and Talon Kyber engaged the massive concentration of First Order forces, the Galactic Alliance and New Imperial Order fleets concentrated their fire on the bulge in the Brotherhood lines, trying to cut off and destroy those attacking the Alliance One. To even survive against the fleets of two of the galaxy's greatest powers was an achievement, but it could not last for long. They had to extract the captive Chancellor immediately.

As the Taskmaster watched, one of the massive Megacaliber guns exploded, taken down by focused fire from Orcana's battle group. Another was badly damaged, likely inoperable; if it blew as well, a real hull breach might develop. Though Tu'teggacha relished the terror and suffering that raged all around him, he recognized that far too much of it was coming from his own side. Liedran Kathause 's ships continued to pound them at range while Olen Halcorr and Rogue Squadron flew through the carnage, targeting and destroying boarding transports - and landing hit after hit on the larger Maw ships as well. They could not sustain this.

The attempted charge by the two Crucifix-class ships, in the face of such a vast allied bombardment, had gone badly. The Poisoned Veins, struck by a barrage from all sides, finally crumpled in on itself; its armored front survived, but its center section shattered, leaving the two halves of the ship drifting helplessly as the Imperial craft advanced. They were forming a strong attack pattern, carefully covering their flanks as they moved in for the kill. In a desperate defensive maneuver, the Crimson Offering fell back from its attempted ramming strike, returning to its defensive pattern beside the Fatalis. It might help buy a little time.

Imperial bombers streaked in toward the Fatalis's bridge, pounding its shields relentlessly. They were hunted by the remaining Divine Eagles, their cybernetically-enhanced Knyght pilots doing their utmost to shoot down the interlopers. Only three squadrons of them could focus on defending the bridge against the enemy's seven, but they were ideally suited to the task; the Knyghts were Force-sensitive to a man, and could predict the movements of their foes, making them perfect interceptors. Their blaster cannons and heavy beam cannons combined to take down shield and rip through armor, doing their best to clear the cloud of foes.

They were still no match for the aces of Rogue Squadron, though.

"We must begin the retreat," Tu'teggacha finally decreed. "Prepare to pull back to the defensive screen. We will cover the extraction of the Chancellor as best we can." Fortunately, they had one major advantage: the Alliance would not shoot at any transport that had Adhira Chandra aboard it, and neither would the NIO if they planned to keep on good terms with their allies. As long as that transport could launch, it would have a good chance of making it back to the hangars of the Fatalis. Until then, they would conduct a fighting withdrawal. All four remaining ships powered backwards, toward the safety of the cordon around the Mercy.

As they fell back, all four ships focused all of their remaining guns on disrupting Commodore Orcana's oncoming spear. They poured the full power of all their heavy guns, dozens of turbolaser and missile batteries, into firing on the NIV Conqueror and its support ships, trying to collapse the enemy right flank. It was a simple strategy: "defeat in detail," focusing on one element of the foe's forces at a time. Each enemy ship they could cripple or destroy would reduce the fire streaking in at them, in turn buying them more time to retreat. The three remaining Crucifixes positioned themselves at the rear, taking fire intended for the Fatalis.

The flagship had to survive if the kidnapping plan was to succeed.

Behind them, the defense screen was struggling as well. Laertia Io 's Jester Squadron, supported by First Order capital ships, were managing to reach through the thinning sphere of Maw ships, and their fire was striking the Mercy itself. The surface of the superweapon seemed to ripple in the void as its massive shields struggled against the barrage. Occasional hits slipped through, striking the massive orb in explosions that looked like stormclouds swirling over a planet. It would only get worse the longer it continued. The Brotherhood needed to find a way to delay the enemy a little longer, or their grand plans would come crashing down.

Then they would merely ravage Csilla, rather than blowing it apart.

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

Fatalis, a Fatalis-class Star Dreadnought	Retreating, firing on the NIV Conqueror
Poisoned Veins, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Destroyed
Crimson Offering, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Retreating, firing on the NIV Revanchist
Severing Blade, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Retreating, firing on the NIV Revanchist
Sanguine Cruor, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Retreating, firing on the NIV Conqueror

 

[Constantine Oliva]

Teica Giraan




“Lieutenant Hak, you have the bridge.”

I left the bridge to my aide-de-camp and communications officer, and stumbled out. It’d taken all I had just to keep myself together following that...that devastation. What I’d done in the wake of it. I was running, abandoning my duties and the people of Csilla. Something that’d seemed impossible just a few years before. I’d broken. A young ensign traveling to bring some medical attention to Teica passed me, giving his commander an awkward salute. I returned the gesture, though I could barely lift my hand. The door to my quarters slid open, and I practically fell inside. In just a few moments I was hunched over my toilet, emptying what little was in my stomach.


The Oath I took to protect the Galactic Alliance and uphold its principles felt empty now. Tears began to swell in my eye. They mixed with the vomit, while I continued dry heaving. What’d happened had shaken me to my very core. Everything I’d ever been, ever dreamed, ever tried to be, was gone in an instant. Wiped away by the pitiless fury of the Brotherhood. Constantine Oliva, that ambitious and fiery cadet was gone, replaced by Constantine Oliva the coward. Years of spiteful success had given way to a broken, shaking man. All in a crimson moment. Ego and confidence from a handful of bold moves were shaken at Naamadii and now they were shattered.


Coughing now, I tried to force myself to stand tall, to act the part of an officer, even in the rout. But I couldn’t. I could hardly breathe, let alone face reality. My breath came in shaky waves, while my vision blurred. An unsteady hand managed to grab something to wipe my mouth with. I managed to stand, at last, and took a few wild steps. My vision darkened, a distant buzz filling my thoughts. Moments later, I found myself laying on the floor.


With a groan, I tried to push myself off my right arm. All that really did was roll me on my back. I stayed there, staring at the metallic ceiling of my tiny room. I wasn’t sure how long, nor how many times I passed out from the hyperventilation. Finally, I forced myself to sit up. My breathing was still shaky, but it was steadying. I grabbed onto my bed frame, and dragged myself to my feet, leaning on it to make sure I kept my balance. I began redoing my uniform, focusing on the rough texture of the cloth, the cool edge of my rank plate. Once I was satisfied, I did it again, then again. I refocused myself on this most basic of drills, undressing and redressing at least a dozen times.


At last I exited my quarters. I forced myself to stand tall, chest out and shoulders back. Spine straight as an arrow. My eye was still red, but there was little I could do about that. I was the spitting image of a naval officer of the alliance, prepared to face death among the stars. Deep down, I doubted it. I was little more than a scared boy, bullied and mocked by his family, finding acceptance only within the navy I’d just abandoned. With a final steeling breath, I entered the bridge of the Hawk.

 

[Suri Vullen]

「 All my style, all my grace
All I tried to save my face 」

OBJECTIVE I - HELL FROZEN OVER
ECLIPSE TEAM
76TH PATHFINDER REGIMENT
GALACTIC ALLIANCE ARMED FORCES
Tyrell Paxxus | OPEN TO OPPOSITION​

Suri's gaze fell away from the hologram on the table. Her steady pace resumed once more, the sound of footsteps echoing across the silent room. The men who had watched her anxious stride paid no mind this time. Some stared down the same hologram she had, watching the Alliance symbols disappear one by one. Others hung their heads, whispering silent prayers. They were unlike the captain. Simple soldiers, with no one looking to them as a beacon. They had the right to be fearful, and perhaps, right in feeling so. The reports had sent chills down Suri's spine, but she been forced to keep a poker face. The whispers that had floated through the unit for days left her no room for emotion. Out of her mind. Reckless. Angry. The rumors were right, but her pride hadn't taken the same toll as her mental state.

Just as she went to turn from the wall, a familiar hand touched her shoulder. She shrugged the touch away, just as she had so many times before.

"Captain." The husky voice harbored pity, which only set Suri on edge.

She spun to face him. The man looked so much older than he had on Ziost. The death, and the burden of leadership, had too taken a toll on him.

"Lieutenant." She retorted condescendingly.

Stansy's piercing emerald eyes swept her over as he grimaced. Suri wondered how long he would keep at it. Since Ayana's death, he had reached out at every turn, and Suri swatted the hand away. The spark of fury that never died had grown, a wildfire raging around her. She refused to burn him with it.

"You should sit," He urged in a hushed voice. "The men are nervous enough."

"No." The sheer defiance for defiance's sake was palpable.

"Suri..." He murmured, shaking his head.

"What? You want me to sit, whilst the other regiments are out there facing those monsters? I mean, come on, Stansy! Reserves?! We're skilled, we can help. You know this is a joke- it's just payback for Ziost."

"Well," He started, his expression one of unease. "Yeah, but... We can't really do anything else, now can we? Not with the Ministry still breathing down our necks. It don't sit right with me, either, but there's no changing it."

"Bullshit." The Correllian hissed. "I oughta go down and give that Commander another piece of my min-"

"What you oughta do is sit the hell down before you make this worse for all of us. The Commander is the only one keeping us out of prison. You pis-"

Stansy's words of reason we interrupted by a static that rung from Suri's comms device. Anticipation ran through her as the words began.

"Captain Vullen, Eclipse team is to report to shuttle bay thirteen for launch to surface." Stansy and Suri exchanged a look that spoke volumes. Thirteen. "You are assigned to provide backup to the 72nd."

"Look at that," The golden-haired man stated sarcastically. "You got your wish, and farked us all."

Suri rolled her eyes, but shame swept through her. Thirteen. Looking to her men, she took a hard look at each of them, wondering who she would lose this time.

"Suit up," She called across the quarters. "We're moving out."

As the pathfinders fell out of the shuttle one by one, Suri looked to the field. It was chaos. Smoke, fire, cries of agony. Where once the chaos would have brought comfort, it was only oppressive now. The last time she underestimated it, it had cost her everything.

"Stay close!" She called over the comms. "72nd is to our north! Curahee!"

The pathfinders moved forward, following the Captain. Despite their growing doubts, she had led them through one reckoning; she was determined to get each through another, and they put their trust in her to do so.

 

[Tyrell Lockhart]

1st Dunwall Irregulars (The Devils of Dunwall)

Allies: DECEASED Erskine Barran Enedina Tal FN-999 Major Bennett Hall Konrad Bolter Aerarii Tithe

Engaging: The Mongrel Lirka Ka Chimera UX-0626 Maestus

Personal Loadout: a DC-17m Interchangeable Weapon System, a vibroknife, and a pair of brass knuckles.

Part One: The Cost of War

Never The Heroes​

Tyrell could feel the wave of snow, dirt, and shrapnel fly over the trench as the blast rang out across the first trench. The amount of explosives had proved to work to devastating effect. He could only help that everyone had gotten out on time. As the dust settled, Tyrell immediately popped his head up from the second trench, taking shots at any who managed to survive the blast. Most of those he took down had already been wounded, but the madman himself didn't care. He had seen these beastly individuals continue to strike well after they had sustained enough injury to kill a pack animal, and he wasn't about to take any chances.

As he continued his slaughter of the injured, Tyrell began to realize that his men had been unable to coordinate with the tanks provided to them. His men might not have been proper soldiers, but they knew how to obey orders, and the fact that they fell short left him feeling uneasy. That's when he heard someone call out a phrase often accompanied by dread...

Enemy in the wire.

Shortly after, Tyrell once again found the young Arryn Thatch at his side. He had to admit, he was impressed by the lads hustle. Arryn slammed himself against the wall of the trench, catching his breath.

"Sir, enemies showed at the command bunker. We aren't sure how many. They seemed focused on moving for the bunker, but there's no tellin' if they'll turn to us."

Tyrell took a moment to think on the situation. It seemed like the enemy had been able to pop of everywhere, yet they had to find a way to hold. He quickly collected himself, looking to the rear trench.

"Right, 'ere's what I need ya to do. I 'ope yer takin' notes, cuz it's gonna be a tall order."

Arryn gave a reassuring nod.

"What's your orders, sir?"

Tyrell managed to crack half of a smile.

"Good lad. Now, 'ere's what I need ya to do. Get yer arse back to the rear. Tell the lads that we need eyes on the bunker, in case they try an' come for us. On yer way, make sure we still 'ave eyes on Tal. It is imperative we keep 'er safe. An' lastly, an' this is the most important, I need ya to get through to those tanks. Tell 'em we need 'em to throw everything they got at the enemies ahead of those friendly undead. I wanna get my money's worth outta their presence before they get taken down. If we can maintain, I'll be reachin' out to them soon. Now, ya got all that, lad?"

Arryn simply nodded in return.

"Ol' mum an' dad would be proud of ya, lad. Yer a right proper soldier."

Arryn's face lit up. He had come a long way since they had first touched down. The chaos of battle had proven to bring out his true fighting spirit. He quickly ran for the back trench, following Tyrell's commands to the letter...

A good lad.

Tyrell turned his attention back to the battle before him, trying to locate Enedina. Unfortunately, he had lost eyes on her. He felt as if something were wrong, but he couldn't pick out what it was. Sometimes, you just have a feeling...

That's when he heard it...

"INCOMIIIIING!"

An enemy artillery round had managed to find its way over the heads of those within the second trench, and right into the third behind them. The explosion rang out as dust and smoke filled the air once again. Despite missing the second trench, Tyrell found himself knocked to the ground by the force of the blast. His ears were ringing, and it took him a moment to regain his full faculties. As the dust began to clear, Tyrell took a look to where the bulk of the impact had occurred.

A familiar voice began to fill the air, crying in absolute agony....

His stomach instantly dropped.

Tyrell picked himself up, running as fast as he could to the third trench. Amidst the smoke and chaos, he managed to locate the source of the screams...

Young Arryn Thatch was stuck against the wall of the trench, pinned there by a large chunk of shrapnel that had pierced his torso. Tyrell rushed to his side, calming the screams as he examined the young man's wound.

"It's alright, lad. It's alright. Lemme look at ya."

It didn't take long for him to see that the damage had been done. Even if they had called a medic, they wouldn't make it in time. Arryn was barely able to speak, but managed to mumble just a few words.

"I... did what you asked sir... all of it."

Tyrell gave no reply, he just nodded. The young man had managed to prove himself one last time. Not having any other option, Tyrell simply held the lad's hand to his chest, repeating only one phrase over and over...

"You're a good lad. Good lad..."

Arryn's eyes met Tyrell's gaze, his pain slowly subsiding as he faded away...

Part Two: The Devil Went Down to Csilla​

Tyrell wiped what blood he could from his clothing as he stared at the fallen young Arryn. The longer he stared into the cold, dead eyes of his comrade, the more the rage grew within him. He had seen brutality from the Sith he had spent so much time fighting, but this Brotherhood of the Maw... they were little more than animals. Filth... all of them. He began slapping himself in the face, hyping himself up for his next move. Gathering his strength, Tyrell searched the boy's body. He managed to find the comlink he had so diligently kept with him.

He began a rush back toward the second trench, reaching out to the tank company on loan from Anaxes as he made his way back to his previous position.

"Devil One 'ere. I know yer gonna be havin' yer hands full with the wave of Maw headin' toward us, but I'm gonna need to ask a favor. I'm makin' a move to the front, and I'm gonna need ya to keep those chites off of me. Devil One out!"

He quickly made his way over to a nearby gun emplacement. The crew had been taken out by enemy artillery, but the gun had managed to stay intact. Tyrell took a second to grab a few thermal detonators off of a fallen soldier as he moved toward the gun, stuffing them in various pockets of his jacket. Then, after loading up as many rounds of ammunition as he could comfortably carry, Tyrell grabbed the machine gun and pressed for the edge of the second trench.

As he passed by his men, they looked at him puzzled. Tyrell stood silently, eyeing the mess that had previously been the first trench. He could barely make out a small path for him to move, as long as he was particular about his steps. As he began hyping himself up again, one of the lads reached out to him.

"Sir? What are you doing?"

He gave no answer. He simply turned the the lad, a hellish smirk cast upon his face. He only gave a short response...

"For Galidraan."

With those words, Tyrell leapt up the wall of the trench, immediately making a break for where the first trench had been. Those around him could only watch as he made his way through the snow, unleashing a hail of fire down upon all nearby Maw. Those who didn't know him would likely think him a fool, or that he perhaps had turned mad from the battle itself. But in the end, this wasn't for him. This was for Arryn, for the Chiss, for every soul taken by the Maw on this day. This was for every single person feeling the hopelessness and sorrow of the pandemonium of the fight. But most of all, it was for his home.

The devil had come to Csilla, and for those who wished him and his harm...

There would be Hell to pay.

 

[Chimera]

H E A R T B E A T
C H I M E R A
T E R R O R I N T H E T R E N C H E S

"DIE!"​

Cutting through the clashing chaos, her voice reached him unnaturally through the focus his dead, opalite eyes aimed towards her. The other soldiers churning up the bloodied snow and sludge were mere blurs amidst the tide, though she was tired, she was the beacon of hope in the fragmented, wounded battalion. They rallied to her, looked to her, she was the pedestal they all stood upon to keep their chins above the waters. Thus it was, she was the one he needed to remove from the equation- the legs he needed to break out from beneath the Galidraani forces.

He did not know her name, he did not need to.

He did not know her bloodline, he did not need to.

All the assassin needed to witness to understand the weight of her significance was the strength her men took in her and the way their own wills were bolstered with her undying presence and resolve. Yes, slaying Enedina Tal was a way to crush the heart of the Galidraani people, surely, but if he was to survive the attempted assassination, he would have to be much, much more cunning. With a surging swath of Moon Children charging over the rocky line, the Sith Lord urged his boots forward and he broke into a sprint, moving alongside them.

Rattling chains proceeded the sound of his coming, smothered out by the screeching howls of the psychosomatic rushing with him, barely a note in the soundscape as he unraveled the plain links from his forearm, dragging them across the snow.

"Incomin-" a faceless New Imperial shouted meters away as he charged, swinging the arm gripping his chain back. Fire erupted from his palm and rushed down the metal length, igniting the entire chain into a searing, smoldering heat within a half-second. The latter half saw the weapon lashed forward with impossible speed, leaving a trail of blazing white in its wake, and snapped against the soldier's jaw, splintering the bone and flaying the flesh apart with a gut-wrenching 'CRACK!'. A chasm was opened in the man's skull, one that threatened to spill what grey matter wasn't blended in the cap out through his nose from the sheer impact alone. Blood rushed from his ears and nose as the Galidraani buckled, steam rising while the rubies in his veins pooled in the melting snow.

Chimera pinned the length of his chain beneath his forward foot, causing it to wrap over his plated toe, and it was a graceful twist to his left that saw the deadly whip crack once more, unfurling itself from his boot with a wicked momentum and sundering another soldier's arm clean from its socket with the nasty chorus of ripping sinew and a hissing shower of blood.

He moved through the tide of swarming, frenzied Moon Children, using them as mobile bullet sponges- surfing the tsunami of devastation right towards where the woman was making her stand. Without a word he wrapped his chain back around his forearm and lunged out of the horde with the aid of The Force, drawing the sword sheathed against the small of his back and sailing through the air with the full intention of crashing down right on top of Enedina Tal in a surprise attack.​

There was nothing but a tide of insane cannon-fodder before her one second and the very next-

a Sith Lord covered in the blood of her men.

ENGAGING | Enedina Tal
ALLIES | THE DARK SIDE | WotS | The Mongrel Lirka Ka
FOES | NIO | GA | THE LIGHT | FN-999 DECEASED Erskine Barran Major Bennett Hall Gallius Orcana

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Equipment: Necrosis Sword (To Be Updated Soon) | Necrosis Armor (To Be Subbed Soon) | Axe (To Be Subbed Soon)
Crusade Location: Thrawn's Rest, Csilla | Current Location: Warlord Encampment
Foe: Irveric Tavlar
Foolish Adversaries: Csilla Defenders | Loyal Sycophants: Csilla Attackers
Crusading Forces: The Dread Crusaders

CONFLICT​

The assault went as expected after the monstrosities of metal and engines broke through the energy shields and their limitations against solid matter. Asu Thine, Crusade Master of the Dread Crusaders, watched with a mix of glee and worry when those very same constructs rolled into the conflict like angry gods of industry and unleashed what awaited within their souls. Soldiers of argent and cobalt with blackened hearts, gnashing and gnawing at their bindings to smite the sinners in their very own hovels of the battlefield.

Seething congratulations were in order for those men and women who charged out into Hell for they did as they were set out to do. Most who fell in the initial minutes were lowly conscripts, acting as the barrier between the more elite Helgardi warriors and the soldiers of the Devil's Chapters. With inhuman power, it seemed, the Imperials crushed black helms and snapped hardened bones with their physical strikes, and more than enough of the Conscripts were reduced to smoldering ash by the close-ranged blaster fire.

It was a glorious conquest to bear witness to, even from a distance, and one that most should have been more concerned about. However, Asu Thine had much more pressing matters to be concerned with than the fate of those who knew their lives - as opposed to the elite soldiers stationed there as well - were only meant to perish and stagnate the charge. Such was the unfortunate reality that came with being a Conscript, although it was a reality that cared little for as their minds had been turned into a soup of degeneration, with nothing but adoring loyalty to the Devil coursing through all that remained of their cortices.

Alongside the brain-addled, cult-like Conscripts, the Sith Priests, Helgardi warriors, and the soldiers of the Devil's Chapters did not give in to the despair of being literally rolled over by the titanic machines. Instead, they were rallied instantly by a particularly massive Helgardi named Haalkel the Wolf and Battle Chapter Captain Stinn, the Dread Crusaders of the front lines fought back for all their worth. Haalkel himself showed himself as quite dangerous when he engaged those Imperials in melee combat, slashing through the Conscripts with his vibro-trident with enough power as to slice open the walls of his trench into new mini-trenches. These were immediately filled with half-corpses and piles of gore.

While an impressive sight to say the least, what truly took Thine's more immediate attention was the armada of drop ships unloading even more soldiers into the fray beyond those first few defensive trenches. They were quick, deadly, and their target was made clear quickly as they began to move towards the shield generators that had been placed outside of the encampment's walls to ensure a fuller coverage of the Devil's forces. One such generator was destroyed by the drop ships' weaponry, blasted apart with relative ease before the defensive forces were able to fully catch up, caught off-guard - once again - by the speed at which the Imperials worked.

Placed in a kind of "no man's land" of the Devil's defensive field, the generators were not wholly defended as Thine would have liked, but they were not left entirely unguarded. What anti-air defenses were present came in the form of the armored lines present behind those forward trenches, although the drop ships appeared to utilize electronic countermeasures to prevent automatic targeting. This forced those operating the machines to manually target the ships and fire off their magnetic rail guns and blaster cannons, proving useful within seconds. Simultaneously, the tank crews were more than capable of handling the deployed soldiers to keep them off of both generator and tank, albeit outnumbered. However, with the updated models of the relic Marauder's Battle Suit, which boasted superb defenses in such styles of combat, they would survive much longer than most. This was proven ceremoniously when the Imperial Drop Forces met them and the armored lines head-on, defending against the swaths of airborne troopers with the close-ranged KS-04s and the prototype SC-1As.

Their tactics in this defense and with these weapons were simple, but perhaps effectively simple. They would attempt to encircle the drop troopers, utilizing the micro-jets in their updated suits to conduct quick movements into position. This would then transition into hopeful prevention of the Imperial's ability to move and locate their objectives, allowing the tank crews to close in the distance and finish them off quickly, much like shield walls of the past. How effective they would be at doing this would have to be seen, but in the short-term, they were at least effective enough to stave off the disaster of the energy shields being shut down prematurely.

As Thine watched this, he could only think on words he had overheard several times throughout his missions, often by enemies about to die - ironically enough. The conclusion that he himself could briefly - begrudgingly and hatefully - draw from these words was this: it could be concluded from this instance and some others, that while those in charge of these men and women were not all that skilled at military matters. Some could even say they were downright atrocious and only possessed enough luck to find success when directly leading them, even though the Dread Crusaders as a whole were quite effective. This was perhaps the primary reason the Devil maintained their at least partial deployment even when Crusades themselves were not occurring. Even at a quarter of their numbers in missions, they had a true skill that made it all too apparent that the Sith above them were...idiotic, perhaps, in the art of directly running strategies and missions. The Devil himself was, again perhaps, the most obvious choice to fill this role of idiocy, despite his actual intelligence in lore and cultural matters.

Regardless of this momentary doubt that seeped through his brain, Thine's resolve returned to its fullest measure and his attention once more turned. This time it was to the artillery lines that were now within range of the Imperials' weaponry, in spite of the energy shield. The Imperials had pushed past the first lines of the forward trenches with little issue, now engaged in more. The lives there were likely to be lost, regardless of what tactics they used. Once the Imperials began crossing over that no-man's land, the bulwark trenches would be in trouble. So, with little remorse of his next action, Asu Thine, Crusade Master of the Dread Crusaders, ordered those artillery barrages to siege the forward trenches with a wide-spread firing mission. The predominant targets would have to be the tanks and Siege Walkers, as the infantry would be caught in the crossfire and the artillery lines at the farthest back lines of the Slayer's army could be dealt with at a later time.

Meanwhile, the Sithspawn unleashed to hunt down the barraging and hidden armor continued to charge across the frozen tundra. Their mission was clear, even to the Mornfangs, and their charge was unabated by the frigid elements. Even the Jek Zûtbo itself did not stagger or slow in the frigid winds, laughing grimly all the while as it left charred imprints in the snow and earth, the burning parts of its body blazing with unrestrained hate and fury. Such parts only burst wider and hotter when the sounds of explosives beyond its perception rang out in the wind. Its already quick pace increased as a jovial laugh combined with a shrill yell met the vibrations of shells, blasters, and treads that shook the earth.

Ahead, under a canopy of smoke and hellfire, the Mornfangs screeched as their numbers faced intense damage at the hands of the Cataphracts and invisible gunships. They did not fare well at range even against the standard fare Stormtrooper - although nothing of the Imperials could truly be considered standard fare - and these tanks which were designed to withstand the most grievous of attacks proved to be a foe they could very well have been unable to defeat. Not that they cared in the least. Those Mornfangs that survived proved capable still, dodging what they could, ignoring the injuries they suffered, and quite literally crawling atop the non-command Cataphracts to rend them and those inside apart if possible, although the defenses of the tanks could quite possibly prevent any of this from happening.

The Ofïglë Sĥûjazze, however, fared far better than their feral Sith-kin. With their galloping speed, warrior's intellect, and a keen sense of the environment despite the smoke and first-time deployment, very few of the Centauroid-Leonids fell to the armored lines in the initial engagement. Instead, they spread out into a loose formation, allowing their Sith-kin to not only charge alongside them in their fury to leap atop the Cataphracts, but to also charge in-between the lines and swing their vibro-halberds and angle their vibro-lances in the attempt to slice open the metallic coffins of the Imperials. Meanwhile, the more experienced members of the Ofïglë Sĥûjazze instead utilized their senses during the charge to locate the infernal machines that fired upon them from above. After the general - not exact - location was located, they would stop for moments at a time to throw the vibro-spears strapped across their backs. Once more, the success of the Ofïglë Sĥûjazze was dependent on whether or not the pure, unfiltered mastery of the Imperials could be balked for even a second.

​

The Devil had not, in fact, returned to his tent as he had told Asu Thine that he would. Instead, he had vanished from the encampment entirely after retrieving his weaponry, wandering into the frozen wastes to watch the battle from afar with his gleaning sight of baleful blue fire. It was almost sad, he thought to himself as he scraped a smooth stone across the edge of his Necrosis Sword. The Slayer - a foolish name given to a putrid man by the ever-superstitious Helgardi - had marched into the Devil's frozen hell with one purpose: kill Kascalion Giedfield. Unknown to him, the bastard Kascalion was already dead. Reduced to a...a faint memory in the depths of Malachor V that was to be forgotten entirely with time.

In his place stood God and Devil - Kavar Lok Kas'Oni - whose purpose was far greater than some mere mortal could ever hope to know, let alone perceive on his own merits. It was far greater than the annihilation of a planet. Of the death of a people or an individual. It was even greater than the implementation of his future ruling over the Warlords of the Sith. Irveric Tavlar dying this day under the heel of Kavar was merely a bonus to an already laid out plan. He would be little more than an afterthought when this was all said and done.

"You don't really believe that, do you?" a harsh, dragging voice hissed from behind the Devil's shoulder. He turned in response, his sight now set upon the specter - or at the very least an illusion - of a man long dead. His white hair had since turned brittle and his face was gaunt from decay, his neck barely stitched together to hold his head onto his shoulders. Lorale Farmar. The Wolf of Noxis.

The Devil rose to his feet and glared upon the massive - yet rotted - frame of his false brother. His voice was calm when he spoke, but the words that came from his lips told of a sudden uncertainty as if he was completely baffled by the appearance of the Wolf. "Your soul was eradicated. You are dead, Lorale," he said, turning his eyes back to his blade and the whetstone.

The Wolf laughed somewhat and phased in front of his false brother like a blinking light. "As were you, a hundred times more than I," he chuckled, flicking something black from his right index. "...Why do you think he shall fade when he dies?"

The Devil breathed sharply for a second as a cold wind passed over him. The blade itself shook in his grip as his bones and muscles strained to remain mobile in the chilled environment. The cold had never liked Kavar, and he never liked it, but this is where the battle was to take place. So was it written in his Narrative. "All things fade in the end. Except me. I shall be forever on the tongue and in the mind. Irveric Tavlar-"

"-Is practically a legend. More than a legend," Lorale interrupted, clasping a bony hand down onto his false brother's pauldron. He breathed a black-lunged breath that smelled of stale cigarettes and fallen trees.

"He will be forgotten as you have," Kavar countered with a calm tone laced with a light surge of irritation, dragging the whetstone harder across the edge of his blade and refusing to look at the Wolf. "A footnote at best in my epic. Spoken of only in contempt and degradation for his vacuous abominations to all respectable forms of government and politics. All who worship me will spit upon his precious Imperialistic idolization and power dogma."

"Power dogma...interesting choice of words. Are you not the same as him, then? Just...Sith?" the Wolf asked with a toothless smile.

The Devil snorted, still refusing to look at his deceased brother. He was silent for a moment longer, tossing the whetstone away into the snow, and then said: "I am not the same as him, you loathsome apparition. He is temporary. Mortal. Human. I am God. I have risen to a power that you strove for in your alliance with Typhon Dlukav. No...actually...I am that power. I was always that power. Irveric Tavlar is nothing more than a man."

The Wolf clacked his half-rotted tongue. "Then why does his image haunt you so? And why are you now seeking to end his life?" he asked. "If he is just a man...why do you care?"

The Devil grunted and sheathed his blade across his right hip, "Because the chance to kill him is merely a bonus to what I have in store for the Galaxy. It would...ease my plans, so to speak."

"That is not why, but if that is what you choose to believe, then so be it...Kavar."

The Wolf had vanished when the Devil turned to look, bringing a slight hiss of disapproval from underneath the helmet. Irveric Tavlar would die this day, painfully, and the Imperials would be driven back. The Devil inhaled sharply as his eyes set upon the battle on the horizon and then took the first step towards what he hoped - deep inside his black heart - would be the end of this most terrible feud.

OOC:

• Forward Trenches engage in their ferocious defense under the rallying leadership of Haalkel and Stinn
• No-Man's Land Defenses fight back against the Airborne and seek to defend the shield generators from being shut off prematurely
• Artillery Begin to fire upon the forward trenches to stall the Imperial's advance, despite friendly units being in the fire zone.
• Sithspawn First Wave launch into an assault on Spearpoint Aurek.
• Kavar Lok Kas'Oni begins his solitary march towards the Imperial Forces after speaking to the specter of Lorale Farmar.

 

[Molly Armstrong]

Adhira Chandra | Auteme | Darth Solipsis | Tu'teggacha

​

Auteme stepped between the Chancellor and him, just as Kuric wanted. He beamed ear to ear at the thought of cleaving the girl in two, but they were on a crunch for time. He forced himself to realize that his bloodlust could cost them the mission, so he stiffled it the best he could in order to please the upper echelons of the darkness. From the view of any Alliance member in the room, he would look deranged, psychopathic perhaps. Most Sith were perceived that way. Maybe that was how they really were, or perhaps these louts didn’t truly understand the power of being a Sith. Kuric believed it was the latter, not by any rational judgement but because there has never been such power that did not appear natural to those who possess it.

“How could I have expected such resistance?” he remarked with heavy sarcasm, “but of course… your reputation precedes you, Shield of the Jedi.”

He knew her much better than she knew him, which was to say likely not at all. She was one of the Alliances Jedi he’d been warned about. Though not the most powerful, she was certainly the most… gnat-like. The Sith could not shake her presence, and Kuric had more than happily crushed the necks of a few acolytes who dared to watch the insufferable holovids bearing her likeness.

But she wouldn't stand in the way for long. After all her precious Chancellor had surrendered.

He strode forward, looming over her, and dispensing with his theatrics he swung the back of his gauntlet across her face, intent to knock her aside so he could claim the Chancellor for the dark side.

“The Jedi will soon learn their place again... at the feet of the Sith.”

 

[Cedric Grayson]

(Phone post. Excuse typos plz)

Location: Chamber of War | Throne
Tags: Darth Solipsis , Mar'Sika, Ryv
​

The fire that had urged Cedric to break his bonds burned hot, and yet it began to waver. He turned his gaze from the void toward Solipsis, and found himself looking upon the face of Kaigann. The old man was not far from what Cedric recalled from his youth. Age had ravaged him as it did all living things, but little else had changed aside from the look in the man's eyes. Kaigann had always looked upon him with warmth and good humor: this man mimicked that pleasance, but it wrong. Off.

"My father thought as you did," the exile's features hardened. "I suppose you think you're continuing his legacy." Cedric had heard this talk before. At the time he'd been too young to understand the grimness of its purpose, but understood perfectly now. The man that had once been Kaigann was gone, and this thing before him was simply a puppet playing to the strings of Solipsis.

He did not understand what had brought the Jedi Knight so low, perhaps he never would. What he did understand was that he was being manipulated by the voice of the maw. The promise of resurrections was a temping one, and one that had seen many Jedi brought into the depths of abyss in times passed. Cedric understood that much, and yet there was still a temptation: a minuet possibility that Kaigann spoke the truth, and perhaps all this suffering could be wiped away from the history books if only the power to reverse it could be achieved.

He'd pondered on that possibility many times since the fall: more than he would have liked to admit. Death was the greatest sustenance for the Bogan, and with mass murder came options otherwise untenable. Not even the Ashla, lord of his people, guiding beacon of his life, could claim to such influence as to bring back the dead.

And if the Ashla could not, then the Bogan certainly couldn't. All it ever wrought was destruction and pain. You might find what you were looking for at its heights, but you would have to climb a mountain of corpses to reach it. There was no creation in its nature save for the forging of a greater means to murder.

The Jedi stood there fixated, his expression shifting from one of confusion, to momentary hurt, and then quiet resolve. "I looked up to you." He finally uttered, "You were a paragon, a hero. All I ever wanted to do was be as righteous as you and my father were." Disgust intermingled with his monotone. "He betrayed everything he ever stood for. Me, our family, Ession, the Jedi, the Ashla, and you. I've never been able to forgive him for that. I could never let go." The exile's hand tightened around his unlit weapon. "He sought to play God. I thought you'd perished in the fire of his war: another casualty of his arrogance, but this is so much worse." The Jedi almost sneered at the Voice, righteous condescension dripping from his words. "You just became him."

The butcher awaited him, and despite the revelation of Kaigann's betrayal, Cedric wanted nothing more than to take the sword to dark lord. That desire would likely ever remain with him, but now he saw clearly. No Grayson would ever be a pawn of the Bogan again so long as he lived, and if that required casting aside perhaps the only possibility for retribution he might ever have, then so be it.

"Lord guide my hand," Bogan's Lament roared to life as he muttered his prayer. "The only way this cycle ends Kaigann," the name was spoken with naked bitterness, "is when every last one of you abominations have been exterminated. You've turned your back on everything you ever stood for. You didn't betray us, you betrayed yourself." His anger faded away as he spoke the truth freely, replaced by a steadfast resolve. There was no purpose in hunting down the Dark Lord aside from satisfying his own personal feelings, but putting down the architect of the maw might save millions.

It was his responsibility alone to put an end to his father's legacy.

The exile pointed his cerulean blade in Kaigann's face. "Surrender and face judgement as the man you once were. Stand against me and I'll put you down as the animal you've chosen to become."

 

[Dagon Kaze]

NEW JEDI ORDER | GALACTIC ALLIANCE | MERCY
Yula Perl
ew TK-818

Yula seemed to always have something witty to say, no matter what. Dagon was about to retort when the darkness rippled violently, followed by split-second precognition and the Ren's own dramatic entry to the scene. And the duo were on the backfoot, scrapping to mount a coherent defense against the restless onslaught of the polearm. Sparks flashed in static, panels of durasteel split by the blades fell with a resounding ring, ventilation pipes burst out streams of airs raising a faint cloud of white.

"You just don't know when to give up, do you?" Dagon called out at the dark sider as he deliberately lagged in the duo's forced retreat, stepping up to take point on the Ren's furious assault.

He noticed Yula's attention shift and, despite their lack of chemistry, managed to find an almost timely opportunity for a distracting riposte hoping it would be enough for the Knight of Ren to fall into the trap the Zeltron had sprung.

 

[Darth Maleva]

Elpsis Kerrigan-Alcori
​

The willpower the witch showed was impressive. There was a slight admiration in her gaze as the other woman ripped the bolt from her torso, and still managed to go on. The gun was aimed at her, and Maleva's hand raised to redirect the projectile. Understanding flashed in her eyes as the shot fired, but it was too late. The predator's sharp senses were turned against her in an instant. The sound that pierced her ears caused a cry of pain to burst forth from her chest as she reached to cover her ears. Her head rang with the sound of a thousand bells. She shook it back and forth, as if attempting to shake away the pain.

The disorientation was enough to give the witch her opening. The lance hurled through the air, but Maleva did not even see it in her panic. As the light pierced her torso, it sent her flying back, into a steel wall. The thud of her body landing was almost sickening. Pain shot through every inch of her as the fire burned her insides. A groan was all she could muster as she laid against the cool metal. She knew she couldn't stay put, but the hurt was all-encompassing.

"Get up," She hissed to no one but herself.

The urgency reignited her fury. Her leg twitched, followed by her arm moving upwards. The Anzat managed to pull herself into a half-sit before collapsing against the wall again. Her gaze met the witch. Tsusudz ottoi nun. Come to me, little friends, she called out through the force, echoing into the nether. There was no answer from the aid she sought.

Shaking her head, she mustered her strength, attempting to stand. It was wobbly, lacking her normal grace, but still, she rose. Her fingers began to move, dancing in intricate patterns. Another groan came as she focused on the pain, drawing from it. Her nerves screamed, but she forced herself to withstand it. The force began to answer, eagerly rising up the witch's side, nearing her head. Maleva's browed furrowed, sweat trickling down her forehead from the chills of the burn and the exertion of trying to penetrate her foe's mind. Whatever the woman feared, Maleva was intent on finding it, and buying herself a few moments to reach the monsters who had refused her call.​