Annihilation Head of the Snake: BotM Annihilation of Csilla

[Jerec Yularen]

ALLIES | NIO | GA | NJO |EE | CIS | FO | CA | Halketh | DECEASED Erskine Barran | FN-999 | Tyrell Lockhart | Aerarii Tithe | Major Bennett Hall | Enedina Tal | Kaleleon | Liza | Himm'vaun'merek | Maple Harte | Jabez Melidoru | Ziroka
ENEMIES | BotM |TK | SE | WotS | The Mongrel | Kyrel Ren | Maestus | Khaostra Devoid | UX-0626 | Chimera


FIRST TODHUSARS REGIMENT

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
FIRST ANAXSI FREE BRIGADE

A THOUSAND MEN IN THE FACE OF DEATH​

The battle was raging. Jerec read its flux, watching the waves of opponents crashing on each other. The TodHusars had charged, shouting to the sky old Anaxsi batteries. The initial rush had seen men fall down, mutilated by plasma wounds, their chests and helms torn open by repeated fire. Many men were left dying in the wake of the Anaxsi charge. No one cared for the fallen, and they were trampled on by the following lines.

It felt like madness. Two regiments had burst onto the 409th's lines, but it was not to reinforce the Stormtroopers, or even reequip the Galidraani. The only objective was to destroy the walkers. And so the officers had raised their weapons and ordered the charge. Tens of thousands of men had raised their weapons in echo and charged. The black wave of the TodHusars would soon meet the horde of barbarians advancing, and the two opposing sides would tear themselves apart.

The paratroopers knew their job. This kind of battle was their speciality and the noble art of the shock and melee was the paragon of their art. The essence of the fight for the TodHusars was to meet the enemy head-on, shoulder against shoulder, and press forward until one side disbanded. Discipline and courage were the only things required, and even range weapons were discarded during a melee fight. It was man against man, sword against sword.

Once the line of TodHusars would have crashed onto the ranks of the Brothers of the Maw, only the stronger, the most disciplined would remain. The rear ranks would push, trying to join the fight. The phalanx of soldiers would be thrown forward, and the confusion of battle would reign. Chaos would be the true victor of this encounter.

THE ANGELS​

Jerec led his troops to the fight. The exchange of fire took a heavy toll on both sides, the Imperials' repeating weapons reaping the first enemy ranks. However, their own armour did not protect sufficiently from the Maw volleys. Most of the first rank fell face down and was crushed by its charging comrades. It didn't matter. The numbers didn't matter for the moment, and would surely never matter. The only moment where numbers were important was the continuation of the campaign. But in the face of imminent Armageddon, there was no such thing as a campaign. Only bloody strikes and violent clashes could determine the fate of the planet.

The maddened rush was ended by a sudden crash. The TodHusars had reached the enemy ranks and the battle was taking all its sense now. Jerec pushed forward, his shoulder pressing against the first thing he could find. It was an enemy warrior. With one hand, Yularen holstered his rifle and unsheathed his sword. Vibrating to life, the weapon slashed and striked through armour and flesh.

With one collective effort, the phalanx started pressing forward. Every soldier was trying to reach the front line to fight himself. The first ranks were almost crushed between the enemy and the rear ranks. But the soldiers held and gained whatever ground they could. Each armed with a sword, a pistol or another kind of melee weapon, they advanced step by step.

Jerec had slain already two surprised enemies when the real challenge appeared. A hulking brute wielding an axe was his next opponent. The two warriors lunged forward, parried, strikes and tried to kill their enemy. The duel was violent: it was the basic expression of survival among a sea of enemies and friends. No one bothered if Jerec was killed, and no one was concerned about his victory.

And what had to happen happened. The brief duel made Jerec lose his momentum, and his rear comrades pressed forward, eager to get to the fight. And when the Captain took a moment to evaluate his next strike, his soldiers resumed their advance. Hit from behind by a shoulder, the officer fell. He was for a moment blinded by the snow, blood and mud getting on his helmet. Trying to get up, he was trampled upon by an armoured boot that hit him in the middle of the back.

If he wanted to live, he had to get up. Otherwise, he would be marched upon by thousands of soldiers of his own unit. He had to rise. One hand after another, he cleared the debris obstructing his visor, and on all fours, reached his sword. He held it firmly in hand and used it as a cane to get on his knees. Half-risen, he would be avoided by his fellow soldiers, he hoped. But he still needed to take back a place in the waves of paratroopers.

Even with his helm approximatively cleaned, he was lost in a sea of soldiers. Black backs and muddy boots were all he could see. Despair shook his heart. Could he really die as an anonymous combatant, lost among the fallen warriors?

This could not happen.

With a final effort, he rose up and took back his place in the phalanx.

"For Anaxes !" he heard everywhere as the TodHusars pressed forward again.
"For Anaxes" he echoed.

The fight was not over for him.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Wrath beat inside her chest, pumping like a heart about to burst. Her body pulsating with unbound rage, they would try their best: plasma seared exposed flesh and heated the armor that remained, but she cared not anymore. Pain was a reminder of life, but it was nothing but a trick of the mind: and she had conquered such puny notions long ago. Launching herself to the air with that same unnatural grace, the beastial Maw warrior landed into the trenchline. A wolf among sheep, the predator freely hunting it's prey. Despite her fury, boundless and all consuming, the Dance of Death continued on with it's same beauty. Her strikes were cruel and precise, lacking none of the mindless savagery her unbound figure exude so readily. Her blade, burning with plasma, sliced through men like a knife through butter: their limbs flew to the sky, their heads rolled around in the muck of this place.

But the worst was her hand, five fingers as sharp as razors: her sadism boundless, they launched out in quick lightning strikes at her unfortunate foes: piercing through the gap between helmet and head, stabbing through the meat beneath and leaving them to die in slow, wet, agony. But these were nothing but rabble, the faceless gears of greater powers that Lirka had become all too familiar with in her long life. No. Greater opponents awaited, a true fight, rather than a meager snack to hopelessly try and appetize her endless hunger for violence. Another sound rung as the rifle of Maple Harte blared out, burning against the beast's dark armored plate.

Lirka rose in response, dashing forward only to be met with the blast of a particle cannon to throw her back: the beskar of her chestplate tanked the blast, but she could still feel the sharp pain of broken ribs beneath. A low, mechanical, hum droned out from the beast, she savored the pain. Easily landing on her feet once again after the blast, before she darted forward again. A savage blur of churning machinery, a fine trail of crimson dripping from her fingers as she moved. She could see the various defenders beginning to sound their retreat, it was so pathetic it was nigh offensive. The cowardice served only to leave Lirka's rage pulsating greater, her cold, hateful, eyes falling dead upon the woman and her mechanical friend. She would have her dance.

DECEASED Erskine Barran FN-999 Tyrell Lockhart Halketh

 

[Tegan Starfall]

Post: 8
Objective: Fates Gonna Cut You Down
Equipment: Mind Crown | Purple MidNight Duster | Black Ancient Sith armor | Sith Mask | Grav Boots | Eltro Life Gloves | x4 red lightsabers | Forearm Lanvorak | Wrist Laser (toasted) | FWG-5 Flechette Smart Pistol | Boomer | X10 Hypo-syringes | X4 Daggers | Liquid Delirium | A Variety Explosives | 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 | Syd Celsius

---

Tegan waited did move or flinch as Rand’s fist came for her chest, she embraced it was ready for it. She knew full well it would be a killing blow on this frail body. Yet at the last second, he was pulled away by Syd, spared for a few more moments at least. Still the seething hatred poured off Rand like perspiration from the sweat glands. Yet his hatred was a mixed chaotic mess, Tegan couldn’t be sure if it was more for her or Syd. She coughed some more heavier her lungs burned, as she coughed some blood came out of her mouth. She just had to hold together a few moments longer she thought to herself.


She eyed Syd, who was probably full of more hatred then even Rand in this moment but seemed to delusional to realize it and accept it. “I’m not a sith.” She quipped when Syd called her one and she chuckled lightly which turned into a cough with more blood. She didn’t refute the monster part though neither of them really knew her or so she assumed. “By your logic the slave who aids his master because he doesn’t want to get a beating, should suffer the same punishment as the master because he did what he was told.” Just because Tegan was aiding the those who ran this station Syd had no way know weather Tegan did it by choice or if she had no choice but to aid them.


“You make all these assumptions about me just to justify your own actions Master Jedi. You tried to kill me and in turn the child died because of your action and choice.” Tegan was about to go one dispense some more truth, but she stopped as Syd had called her by name. That was odd Tegan did not expect that, early in the fight she had been masked and never once had she revealed her name. Sure she new Rands Aura from Ossus but she didn’t know him beyond that and she had no idea who Syd was beyond the fact she had to be a master Jedi. “So you do know me….interesting?” Though interesting it really didn’t change the game even if Tegan wanted to know where they had met before, living as long as Tegan had it was hard to remember faces.


She listened and there it was not the answer to how Syd knew her name but the truth, Syd had been a vile monster too. Tegan latched onto it and wouldn’t let it go as her burning orange eyes turned to Rand. “If I am an Evil monster so deserving of death?” She left the question hang for a moment her eyes looked at Syd’s disengaged light saber for a second she hadn’t noticed it earlier, but it didn’t matter Tegan had every weapon she needed to kill them in words, the hypocrisy and treachery had all been revealed left there to be used. “Then by your Masters own admission, whom seems to know me, she was something vile and darker then me. Yet she lives and commands my death because she is right, and I am wrong? She gets forgiveness for being a monster and I get death? I too can fake an aura of shame and regret and change my eye color to disguise why wickedness it’s a fairly simple spell. I think you are being played and it is not by me Starlin.” Tegan said his name as Syd had openly said it, moments later and Tegan was coughing again.

 

[Darth Imperius]

Tag(s): Amra Sar Azrael , open

---

High Imperator of the Rim-Guard

Location: Far side of Csilla, engaging Calgars Fleet and ground forces
Forces: The Phalanx, two Munificent-class cruisers, ten Rim-Guard Cadres, Horizon Protocol forces​

---

​

Several of the Armored Assault Tanks were destroyed in front of Markus, smoke rising from their wrecks and the skeletal bodies of their droids drivers could be seen all over the place. The field in front of the entrance was filled with destroyed droids and tanks, thousands of them freezing on the ground. They were destroyed in their effort to distract from the actual attack. And those tech-barbarians took the bait.

As the contingents of the droids and tanks marched forward on a broad front, unleashing a dense net of blaser and lasercannon fire, they were slowly getting closer to the swiftly set up fortifications of the Vandemarians. Their war engines were causing havoc in the ranks, explosions and blaster fire destroying dozens of battledroids, the surface breaking open in fountains of dirt, water and ice with every grenade which hit it. The air was dirty with melted snow and mud as the Socii marched ever on.

Meanwhile the Skytroopers had positioned themselves, just as the cadres and were ready to strike. The Zakuulan droids were in the mountains directly above and next to the enemy, their scanners and sensors too busy with the massive battle in front. Grenade and missile launchers were readied by the heavy troopers as the infantry slowly made their way further down to use their jetpacks to jump between the tech-warriors.

The Rim-Guard Cadres were deployed within their assault landers, only their commander watching the battle from afar on his HUD. They would wait for the moment the Skytroopers would attack to swiftly move in and get into close quarters with the defenders. Risky, but if successful, devastating. Their close quarters skill would overwhelm even these cybernetic monkeys.

* * *​

The Skytroopers aboard The Phalanx were defending against the fourht assault on the gallery bulkheads now. The tech-warriors which had boarded the flagship were trying again and again to leave the corridors of the outer hull, but the flamers and grenade launchers of the Skytroopers have so far prevailed. There was only one Cadre left on the ship and it was scattered along the defense positions.

It was the personal Cadre of Aiglos and he was himself at the front. His blue lightsaber-pike was cutting through the frontline of the attacking savages. The tall man in gold was a god, war-made manifest. The enemy was cybernetically enhanced, better senses, a lot more strength and linked weapons, but the Exarch was from a different era, from a different level of technology. He was kicking, punching, smashing, striking and stabbing with his pike and shield faster than any eye could see, a scheme of a gilded shadow. His shieldbearer was always behind him and trying to defend his masters back.

The enemies retreated once more, leaving behind some dozen of their dead, forming up for another attack. Breathing heavily Aiglos looked beyond the bulkhead and saw an individual clad in a black plate armour, taller than himself, bulkier and with a large warhammer.

 

[Darth Solipsis]

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

The Dark Voice stood in silent contemplation, his warmth filled smile had long since wavered and in it's place a look of genuine disappointment as he listened to the Jedi Master. Comparisons to his long dead mentor, his greatest friend and ally were not far from the truth, after all it had been he who taught him everything, yet the boy understood nothing. There was far more at work here than he could fathom, the strings of fate were being pulled and his misguided belief in the Ashla was preventing him from fulfilling his true destiny. It was all so..

"Unfortunate."

The word came out smoothly as he stood face to face with the cerulean blade unafraid. The Sith Master remained calm, cool, and collected despite a barely contained bubble of anger building beneath the surface, a wave of contempt peeking forth from his forming dark glare over the Essionian as it washed over him. "Your understanding of your father and myself is misguided to say the least, you bleed arrogance and ignorance like any blind slave of the Light. Look where it's gotten you, your people are scattered and broken.."

A voice echoed in from behind the Lord of Ession,

"... Ession is dead..."

Another came crawling forth with a higher pitch and a whisper,

"... your armies disbanded.."

The third voice rattled in quicker than the last and resounded through his mind deeply,

"... your faith shaken..."

A vile glare cast over the Essionian as a wicked grin spread from ear to ear as Kaigann’s own voice came forth bellowed and distorted,

"... your legacy is failure.”

The Sith Master began to pace around his opponent at the razor’s edge like a predator ready to pounce. The Force Illusion slowly fading away, features of Kaigann’s restored appearance washed away with the seconds that passed them in revelation of the horror that was truly Darth Solipsis. A crackle of red sparks rolled off his fingertips as he came to a halt,

“If you will not turn to the Dark Side.. then perhaps your nephew will.”

With swift movement came two outstretched hands from his very robes, a twisted volley of hatred was unleashed as red sparks leapt to life from the very fingertips of the Dark Voice. The Elder unleashed a malignant wave of power in the form of crimson lightning, flickering bolts of concentrated dark power. His teeth grit together as the wave of energy spread forth, stray bolts flying off course from the sheer ferocity of the assault as the main volley threatened to crash into the Lord of Ession.

“Give in.”

 

[Halketh]

D R E A M S
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" 5071/5300 \\

With every command imparted from the sorcerer to the swarm engulfing him, pieces of his Presence exposed themselves. His veneer was starting to crack, spewing bloody red beams through the porcelain. There was no Light in him- simply the abyss he had come to rely on decades ago. What made him any different from the monsters roaming the superweapon in orbit or the Sith Lords rampaging across the surface and ripping his people to shreds? Perhaps the line he trekked was growing thinner and thinner, blurring, as it spilled his intentions in uneven balance from one teetering side to the other. He was vulnerable, more now than he had ever been, perhaps.

The ghosts of his past lurked in his shadow, clawing and gnashing at his heels; threatening to reach from his back to his neck, to sink their razors in and bleed him of what little he had left to spare. Coming to a planet under the threat of annihilation by the Sith perhaps was not the wisest of moves, yet fight as he might against the corruption he had harbored for years, he could not temper it now. It arced through his veins, leaping from one system to the next until all of his nerves were alight with the torture his alignment had earned.

Why even fight it anymore?

Why fight at all?

Hot iron trickled from his nostril, splashing across his lip and mustache before making its plummet down onto the lower curve of his helmet. Another. And another. His tongue sought it out, chasing away the vermillion stains before they could worsen, but there was only so much one could do as the stream intensified. Soft tissue was wracked with needles attempting to puncture through from within, ceasing his movements and forcing painful stagnation in the stream. Halketh hissed violently, casting a spray of blood through his teeth into the rebreather of his helmet, and it was soon after he found himself toppling forward.

Whatever Dark ritual was taking place on the world, it was having a horrible effect on the sorcerer.

He struggled after breath on the broken, frigid ground, barely supporting himself on his knees and elbows as another bout of agony washed through his body, leaving him to quiver and curse the pain though no voice could escape his lips. With armored fingers, he dug into the sludge, fighting to get purchase and reclaim his body from the throes of ritual that siphoned from him.

'You always knew this day would come, didn't you?'

He choked, barely able to see the specter's feet in his mind's eye as she stood there, painted in hues of flickering, distorted blue for any Force Sensitive to see.

'And yet you seem so confused and afraid. Imagine how I felt.'

He wanted to scream at her, to insist she had died decades ago, yet still, no sound beyond ragged, breathless gasps could find its purchase across his lips. Crippled, The Lord of Ice remained there on the ground, unable to pick himself up to carry on.

“COME ON!!”

“S’that all you fucken got?!”

The voice was distant, but he recognized it through the drowning waters he felt rising rapidly around his neck.

Weakly, Halketh extended his claws through the psionic, reaching to find the sliver of silver in The Force that existed as Julian Qar.

He needed help.

'And what if he had not been here? Not even he trusts you, else he would not be here.' Muwian chided, glowering down at him with amusement.

​

"Julian-"

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

 

[Kaeli]

Chiss Ascendancy | Brask Family
"Kaeli" | Brask'ael'inrokini
Objective II: Hell Frozen Over
Allies: Liza
Enemies: Kyrel Ren
-
​

:: Mercy Actual, read and understood. :: Kaeli gasped out between the pumping of her legs. Bounding over a heap of duracrete rubble she slid, falling to a knee as she managed to catch herself. Another Cheunh expletive escaped her lips before she forced herself back to her feet and pressed onward. The absolute chaos wrought around her was shoved to the back of her mind, eyes darting only to the things that would impede her foot travel. Explosions rocked the ground, blaster bolts crossed her path, charrics returned. She used the eviscerated environment for cover, keeping low and darting between debris and destroyed buildings, vehicles, and barriers. Ahead she could see a speeder, no doubt the secondary element - Mercy Actual. Nearby to that - the bunker. Their objective. She noted the gun was silent. Not a good sign.

Kaeli moved to raise the others on comm but before she could the battlefield erupted into a new sort of chaos. A hulking figure burst from the entrance to the bunker - red saber flashing. Blast! This was going to be more difficult than she'd anticipated. During her education in the Redoubt, Kaeli had learned of Force Sensitive beings called Jedi, Sith. This was the first time she'd seen one in the flesh and the result was terrifying. Forcing down the anxiety welling up in her gut she set her jaw and pushed forward. The Chiss had a few tricks up her sleeve. Sith had supernatural abilities, of that there was no doubt. What they oft forgot was that the Chiss were resourceful, tenacious, and most of all they were engineers.

It was a well known fact that saber wielders could reflect blaster weaponry, bolts deflected or even sometimes directed back at the very soldier whom fired it. It was a piece of why the Chiss had designed and produced a nasty little weapon called the Charric. It acted much like a blaster weapon with some key differences. Not only did the weapon deliver energy in the form of heat, but also delivered a blast of kinetic energy. Perhaps the greatest benefit against sabers was the weapon's inability to be deflected or reflected. Over time, even a foe as resolute as a Sith could be worn down.

"Hey you!" she shouted above the din, outstretched hand pointing towards the Sith. "I hope you're prepared to die today!" Not giving him a chance to respond, she raised her charric pistol and lined the sights up with the man's torso. Center mass. Squeezing the trigger, she sent a charric bolt arcing towards her target.

 

[TK-818]

Location: Mercy
Tags: Yula Perl | Dagon Kaze

Swinging, thrashing, and twirling the poled weapon came. Rage unleashed, a seeping aura of harnessed anger radiating forth from the Knight of Ren as he pressed the attack. Sinh gave no reprieve in his ruthless flurry, forcing back his enemies further down the hall.

Narrowly, the swing of his weapon missed it’s mark, cutting a lock of hair from the Zeltron’s head. He pressed on yet faltered as the Jedi came into view, his attention shifted and a wave of hatred overcame him. He would not escape this time.

As he fell into the distraction led by the Jedi Dagon Kaze , the Zeltron raised her hands to the ceiling. His attention subtly diverted, but it was too late as Yula Perl slammed her hands down onto the floor. Panels popped open, wires fell and wrapped around him crackling with electricity and power after a shower of debris came over him.

There had been little time to react, all he could do is rely on his pain as the current ran through him and his armor. A palpable surge of emotion and raw strength in the Force surging forth as the hallway panels bent and groaned from twisting metal. With maximum effort, a repulse surged outward shredding the wires as smoke rolled off of his body.

The Force sustained him, as it did all followers of the Shadow. He merely needed to draw upon that pain as was taught by his master, all he needed was to let the rage fuel him further, push him as he slowly stood to his feet seething in hatred.

His vocabulator spat a deeply echoed voice that revealed a hint of his pain within the deep resounding contempt in his voice,

“I’m going to enjoy killing you both.”

 

[Alars Keto]

Objective 3: Duel of the Fates
Location: PK-1 “Mercy”
Tags: Aaran Tafo | Jayda Vanator

The Jedi was smart, jumping as Kryll lunged into him to bring them both farther back was something he had to give the man credit for. The bold move brought him firmly into Kryll’s grasp but left him from harm’s reach in the form of Jayda’s lightsaber attack. The result, only seared leather and nasty welts, well played Jedi.

Now it was a ground game as the Jedi wrapped his arms around Kryll in unison with the marauder’s own grip tightening around Aaran Tafo . The duo rolled along the floor struggling to gain footing and control by coming up on top of the other. This was where his training would come into play, his extensive Teras Kasi teachings and years of brawling, if only he could get the upper hand to utilize it.

The Jedi found himself a moment on top as the marauder forcibly tried yanking him away, going for a headlock position to choke him out but he found it had been too late. With a sleight of hand and a moment of focus the Jedi called upon the Force and sent a surge of power into his chest, an unexpected move to be frank.

Kryll released his opponent as a wave of nausea overtook him, a sudden wave that washed over him and threatened to take away his consciousness. He fought hard to navigate his internal motor functions and gain some semblance of control. He fought to stay in the fight and overcome the Jedi’s trick.

His teeth grit together as he came to his feet stumbling, focusing his full mental willpower upon his failing body to follow through with just one blow as he twirled around and sent his leg forward with a sloppy but swift martial arts kick.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Objective: Silence The Voice
Location: Chamber of War | Throne
Tags: | Ryv [SOON TM] | Mar'Sika , Darth Solipsis ​

The voices uttered their damnation, yet Cedric stood unshaken. They foulness hissed in the corners of his skull, and beyond that through the different points in the chamber. There was truth in the words of condemnation, truth and deception all in one. Solipsis was right. The homeworld had burned, his legions scattered throughout the galaxy, and his faith as tested as it had ever been. Perhaps, even, his legacy would amount to nothing. Perhaps he would be cut down here and forgotten, a footnote in the Maw's coming conquests.

As the Voice circled around him and Cedric kept his lightsaber trained on the beast's throat, he ruminated on that truth, and decided that it too was irrelevant. The exile had been many things in his life: soldier, politician, scholar, king, even an emperor, and little remained to show for it. All he had ever done was what the Ashla willed him to do. He was an instrument of its will, a manifestation of its presence given flesh. Of the many things Cedric had been in his time, above them all, he was a Jedi Knight.

No one would ever take that from him.

"I've lost much, that is true," he cocked his head toward Solipsis, "And yet, look what I've risen above."

“If you will not turn to the Dark Side.. then perhaps your nephew will.”

Cedric's response came in a flicking of his wrist, and the swift turning of his blade to cut Solipsis' head clean from his body. Unfortunately the storm of lightning the Sith Lord unleashed upon him was more than enough to stop it. It felt as if thirty men were pushing against him as he grabbed his weapon in a two-handed grip and gave his all in reflecting the lightning. Despite his attempts, he could not aim the storm back at its source, and it instead sprang outward in a mass of crimson that annihalated any surface it touched. Some of the sparks carried past his guard, stripping the flesh along his left arm and melting the synthflesh on his cybernetic right.

Dark spots sputtered along his vision as the pain registered itself. It dizzied him, threatened to force him to lower his guard, and as the agony reached its pinnacle he knew he would lose consciousness if it carried on a moment further.

The energies of the empyrean flowed into his limbs instinctively. He concentrated it in the balls of his right foot, and stomped forward into the storm. That energy expelled with terrible violence as the metal plating that made up the floor exploded upward in a cone several meters in front of him, the flooring turning into shrapnel as it shattered with the force of a frag grenade. Metal shards filled the air, and Cedric, anticipating that the Voice would have to withdraw his assault to defend himself, used the remnants of the empyrean's blessing to spring forward into the storm, cerulean blade aloft to cleave Solipsis from shoulder to hip.

"You'll not have him!" The exile shouted over the cacophony. How the Voice knew of Mikhail, Cedric had no idea, but he understood well enough if he were to die here then Kaigann would almost certainly come for the boy. Everything else aside, that was unacceptable.

 

[Starlin Rand]

Objective: Duel of the Fates
Location: Experiencing moral conflict, sort of
Gear: Armor | Shoto
Tags: Syd Celsius | Tegan Starfall (engaging)

Somehow, despite his readiness to fight Syd if she tried to stop him, she managed it anyway. His body spun out of control yet again, striking her instead of Tegan. Phrik claws gouged into her side, green blood trickling down the blades toward his knuckles. Starlin’s eyes widened, first in shock, then in horror. I’ve killed her, I killed my master, I killed Syd, Syd, Syd...

But the wounds sealed, like they always did, her body healing rapidly. She was talking to him, trying to shake him out of this, but he didn’t want to be shaken out of it. He wanted it to end. They were running out of time. If they were going to save Csilla, they had to remove all obstacles—

He froze, his thoughts backpedaling. What did she just say?

I was made from something even more
vile than she was… looking for an
absolution I know will never come… I had to be
forced away…
never trust me
afterward
again...

“What?” he whispered, then louder. “What are you saying?”

Tegan was still talking. He wanted to snap at her, tell her to shut the hell up, but she seemed to be struggling just to breathe, coughing up blood and rasping. So he didn’t bother. His focus was completely on Syd, a chill seeping into his core. He shivered.

“Syd?” His voice was weak. “What are you saying?”

Despite her bloodied lungs, Tegan was giving voice to Starlin’s deepest fears: that he was being played for a fool by the person he trusted most. He had already seen Syd assume other forms, other "Sorceresses"—he knew very well that she could deceive him if she so wished. He just didn’t want to believe that she would.

“Are you a Sith? Who are you?”

 

[Syd Celsius]

Syd looked dejected, agonized, watching the hurt play out on the face of Starlin Rand . The face she had never wished to see.

He was crestfallen. She wanted to tear her hair out at having caused him pain like this. For now she was deathly afraid of him giving into his hurt.

"I was a Sith. I'm not anymore." She answered slowly, expression wracked with guilt and shame.

"I am so sorry I didn't tell you. Please believe me. Please." she all but begged.

"I was scared and I was weak. When I met you, I was barely figuring out how to act human. My decision to not tell you that was stupid and selfish. Everything else I said to you was the truth. This was the only thing I hid from you, and it was out of pure shame. Please forgive me. I...I was going to tell you eventually, but I didn't want to do it like this. This is going to sound horrible but...you're the closest I've ever come to having a son. I didn't want to lose that, and I'm sorry." Syd apologized, leaving herself unguarded.

"I...I think I've been killed and reborn at least...at least three or four times. But the last one...the last identity I had...I was a Darth, Starlin. A Darth who was as bad as it got. But I'm not that person anymore. I'm trying to change. You helped me to a great extent. Please forgive me Starlin. I didn't want to and never meant to hurt you."

Syd knew she was taking a risk. She took a step forward to him, dropping her Lightsabers, tossing them at his feet.

"Please. Hold me responsible for failing to save the child, hold me responsible for not telling you the full story. But don't go to the dark side. Even if you can't forgive me, please don't go to the Dark Side, please don't walk the path I once did."

"You want to know everything? Ask. I'll tell you. All of it. As much as I can remember anyway. There are gaps. Please Starlin...please don't go to the Dark Side.

It was times like this that the path of the Jedi was least easy to walk.

Would Starlin flee that path? Even Syd couldn't tell. But she had to try, even though she had screwed up. Even though it was extremely dangerous.

Syd dropped to her knees in front of him.

"Search the Force, Starlin. Decide what you must."

Tegan Starfall

 

[Elle Mors]

Csilla Space, boarding the 'Mercy'

ADELAIDE​

"Darkness spreads as shadows grow."​

It was a lesson she'd learned as a Sith, words meant to instill a perversion of hope - hope that she, and all her fellow acolytes, could possibly dream to conquer the galaxy under the banner of an Empire because the Jedi of their time were unwilling to match their fervor of eradicating the dark side with an equal showing of compassion. Hypocrisy, even to a child, bred disillusionment, and there was no greater avenue to the dark side and its unnatural teachings than a Jedi that acted contrary to their supposed beliefs. Genocide, murder, war - words that ought to belong to the Sith, taken and pridefully worn on the sleeves of an array of orders that believed that their cause, the end, justified their means.

As the A-wing came roaring into the hangar, its hatch raising even before it touched down on the metallic bay, skidding across the durasteel flooring as the ship slowed to a halt, bringing the rogue Jedi into the belly of the beast. There were no delusions that she might need to put lethal force into play, but just as so she did not fool herself that she would be doing anything noble in doing so. Straps that had held her in place snapped back, releasing her from their protective hold, and Elle leaped from the cockpit, lightsaber in hand with its green pillar on full display. Late to the party, she wasn't alone.

A green flash arced through the air, turning bolts of plasma away from her as they were fired, but the blade found no purchase in any of the enemies around her - the force flowed like the adrenaline coursing through her veins, her very physical form enhanced by its building presence. A fist to the chest, a kick to the temple, and a collision of her head on another brought down three of the fanatical devotees in quick succession, the Noghri art of Stava serving her well in preventing any executions by lightsaber. Sith and Jedi alike had scoffed at her preference for the risks she'd taken in adopting a far more intimate approach to combat, the Sith for the perception that she'd lack efficiency and the Jedi turning their nose up at the notion of being above sparing a dark sider - unwilling to risk letting anyone survive to potentially terrorize the galaxy another day, a qualm she did not share.

She glanced back, if only for a moment, to look back at the interceptor she had rode in on before turning her attention back to the dark corridors that led further into the proverbial abyss. The force flowing through her, and all around her - around them all - would act as her guide, provide her a light to show her the way to whatever dark master fell so far as to abuse an entire species and their home. If they could not protect themselves, she would; it didn't matter who they believed their people were, be it Imperial, Republic, Alliance, or Sith - to her, they were her people and Csilla was as much her home as Thule or Coruscant or any other world in the galaxy.

In a galaxy war-torn and divided, the force taught her unity.

Here she would act on it.

 

[Gren Blidh]

On board the PK-1 "Mercy"

When the Mercy fired, it was impossible to mistake it. Every wall and corridor floor aboard the ship thrummed with the beating heart of the superweapon laser, sending pulsing, dissipating energy through the metallic skeleton that came together to form the monolithic Mercy. But that was only the physical shockwave. After the rumbling and screeching came the Force maelstrom. Gren didn't have to look out a viewport window to feel the unmistakable sensation of tens of thousands of lives being extinguished all at once, swallowed up by flames and violent explosions, and then - nothing but the black void of space.

Their souls dissipated into that void, and somehow, through the Dark Side, Gren felt stronger. The power surged through him in his raven form, so much that it almost hurt.

It would be a truly merciful end for them. Not like the many prisoners the Maw would claim after this conquest, who would face a far crueler fate. Gren found himself, as before, unable to summon any emotion that resembled caring. His own growing power was an intoxicating whirlwind, occupying all of his senses and heightening his pulse. He felt high on the energy that such ruthless chaos created. He was free, and that was the most grand sensation of all.

He took off through the corridors, flapping his raven wings and cawing triumphantly. He could feel the attackers approaching, desperate as they were to stop the monstrosity upon which they all now stood. Ironically, being on board the Mercy was now probably the safest place to be amidst the carnage of Csilla, for his enemies especially. Gren knew they could sense him. He felt the yearning of Juliana Alderdice , the tugging of her mind as it reached out to try and find Gren again through the Force, as if trying to hold water between her fingers. Her partner, Brec Gannan , was less perceptive. So, the dark smuggler obliged by reaching out to them again, using the same channel as before that oddly connected them, this time harder. The one-eyed raven would appear again, a faint Force illusion that manifested itself in the hallway before them like a hazy shadow.

"Right is wrong," The illusion hissed. "That way, you will only lose yourself. Make your own shatterpoint - go left."

Silence, and then a gut-wrenching scream that aimed to tear through their eardrums.

"GO!"

 

[Darth Maleva]

Elpsis Kerrigan
​

Maleva's chest began to slow as she got the chance to breathe. Every muscle in her body ached, every inch of cauterized flesh screaming. The spellwork and summoning, coupled with her injuries, had taken it out of her. She could feel her power having waned, left with only exhaustion. Yet there was a need to keep going. She felt the first apparition fizzle, its presence leaving this world. Maleva turned, grasping a brother who was in the fray. He shot her a glare and she forced him over, bewilderment coupling it.

"It's alright," The anzat cooed.

All resistance fell from him. His shoulders went slack; his form turned willingly. Tendrils creeped out from the hollow recesses within Maleva's cheeks. They wasted no time in finding the feast- with a flash of movement, the grey proboscises struck out, moving up his nostrils. It was but a moment before the body went fully limp, but the small-framed woman caught it with ease. The soup flowed, restoring a bit of what she had lost. The individual was force-sensitive, but the untapped potential had never grown.

Finally, just as the witch finished the last of her creations, the Lord tossed the cold body aside. The substance wasn't enough, but nothing ever really was. The tentacles began to rescind as she met the challenger's gaze.

"Let us finish this." The words were a growl, laced with determination.

A hand raised, and with a flick of her wrist, lightning burst forth in a deadly whip towards the other woman.​

 

[Tegan Starfall]

Post: 9
Objective: Fates Gossip
Equipment: Mind Crown | Purple MidNight Duster | Black Ancient Sith armor | Sith Mask | Grav Boots | Eltro Life Gloves | x4 red lightsabers | Forearm Lanvorak | Wrist Laser (toasted) | FWG-5 Flechette Smart Pistol | Boomer | X10 Hypo-syringes | X4 Daggers | Liquid Delirium | A Variety Explosives | 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 | Syd Celsius

---

Tegan coughed and hacked as she watched the holo drama playing out in front of her. Like one of those old sappy romance holovids her sister Damsha Starfall loved so much. They just needed to kiss already even if it was a mother son relationship it was fitting of Jedi, well not Jedi but claiming to be Jedi that heroic idealist cult was dead all this Galaxy really had was villains and delusional villains who thought they were Hero’s of Legend.


Tegan closed her eyes as her coughing became heavier and blood began to free flow from her mouth. It streamed down her front and a line rolled down from her shoulder then down her arm dripping off the middle finger of her left hand. Her finger moved ever so slightly for a moment twitching, her mind clinging to ever last ounce of will she had left.


Then came a couple heavy gasps her right eye opened slightly just to see Syd kneel a person who still seemed to know Tegan but Tegan did not know her. Tegan took it in for a moment as the master knelled before the student also noting the relinquishing of weapons that laid at Starlin’s feet. The Master had put herself beneath the student making herself the lesser. Now the student had a choice mercy or death. Tegan just closed her eye and let her life signs fade and let the darkness take her.


At her side where the blood had dripped from her finger was a symbol drawn in her own blood. As the two proclaimed Jedi played out their lovers spat, light nearly silent footsteps moved across the hanger. A small hand reached out between the two Jedi and reached for Syd’s sabers as the two Jedi were lost in each other’s confusion.

 

[Khaostra Devoid]

Post: 6
Objective: Murder In 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 , the droids, and the Bloodsworn pushed forward down to the next level the security forces taken out with ease as some fled to the next floor below. Little did they know they were being squeezed like blueberries in a juicer. A bomb was set with out any issues, and they pushed on down to the next floor squeezing even harder. It wasn’t long and they had reached the midway point and the floor where the information they were seeking was held.


The Droids spread out across the level and started processing through files tossing anything they didn’t need or was considered useless on the floor. As the Droids that Khaos found herself in one of the side offices a few of the Bloodsworn had followed her. They seemed a bit restless just standing around wanting to go to the next floor. Khaos looked around in the side office not for anything particular just snooping to pass the time while her droids collected what they needed.


She looked back to the bloodsworn commander whom seemed a bit agitated about having to just stand around. “You can move on we will catch up.” She said and gave him a head nod of assurance. “We will meet you at the bottom and blow this joint.” With out hesitation the Bloodworm moved out to continue their rampage to the bottom. The Security forces were good but the Bloodsworn were just so brutal and chaotic they didn’t stand much of a chance.


As they moved on Khaos continued her own snooping in the office. She came across a picture on the desk, the picture was of Chiss family. Mother, Father, two sons and a daughter the children all young. Khaos found herself staring at it half confused her family much the same make up except two girls and one boy. Yet her family had never done the whole family picture thing, hell she wasn’t even sure the last time all of them had been together in the same room. Families where what was going to be destroyed the most after today ended, Khaos felt bad for them. Today there would be many orphans and scattered or broken homes. She picked up the picture and took it from the frame, a remembrance of blood on her hands, unlike her sister Khaos wore her sins on her heart rather then a mask.


She stepped out of the room as The droids started to finish up gathering all the information they had come for. “Three and Five.” She said getting the attention of two of the EV Series droids. “You get that information back two the ship. The rest of you finish planting the explosives on this level and then lets finish this.” With hat the Droids began to carry out their tasks.

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Gear: Equipment: Armour, Hold-out Bolter, Shotgun, Grenades, Sidearm, Sabre, Ion Paddle Beamer, Cryo-Ban Gun.
Darth Maleva

Elpsis was stubborn - to a fault. Blood seeped from the injuries inflicted by the bolt of hatred and the demons' claws. Her head hurt, among other things. Pain surged through her body, and flesh screamed. But she stood. It was what a Kerrigan and an Elaris did.

"Let us finish this." She heard the Sith Sorceress growl, just a moment before lightning blasted from her hands towards the Firemane soldier. All Elpsis could do was angle Inferno to catch the whip of pure, dazzling electricity that shrieked towards her.

Some bolts of lightning were deflected by Inferno, bouncing off the brilliant orange blade. Others struck her cybernetic arm. Sparks flew and her fingers twitched, but beyond that the arm was fine. Indeed, it absorbed a portion of the lightning. This was because the arm ran on Elpsis' own power, which had been imbued into it, rather than electronics. The tutaminis enchantment allowed her to convert some of it. However, even these forms of protection had their limits against the torrent. Lightning struck the front of her helmet, coming from underneath. Sparks flew, burning her face on the inside of the enclosed helmet. She cried out in pain. It would leave burns.

The cracks inside her flesh burnt and glowed even more brightly. Moreover, smoke caused her to cough painfully. Her throat, ever sensitive since Tephrike, itched. The power she had absorbed was converted into a brutal blast of telekinesis that she unleashed upon the dark sorceress. It was not meant to hurl the Sith across the room, but slam into her leg hard and smash bones.

If Elpsis had seen like most people did, she would have been blinded or her HUD would've been disabled at least temporarily. However, she had not used conventional sight since being blinded on Omega and her helmet lacked an HUD that she could not utilise anyway. At least the filters would kick in soon. Raising her Uproar Blaster, she fired. Once, twice. At the same time, she advanced forward.

 

[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

Bit by bit the Chiss defense forces were pushed from the upper levels, forced down the stairwells and tubolifts to regroup in the next section of the library. They knew, however, that they were running out of room to retreat. Some of them had already attempted to descend to the tram station at the bottom, trying to get a warning to Cspalar by physically carrying it, since comms were jammed. They had been ripped apart as soon as the turbolift doors had opened, shredded in a hail of slugthrower fire by the entrenched marauders. Their deaths had served as a warning, but only to their comrades above: a warning that they were trapped.

At Khaostra Devoid 's command the Bloodsworn pushed ahead of the droids, advancing quickly downward. Though still filled with bloodlust, they were more cautious now; they had learned many of the Chiss defenders' tricks, and knew to look for booby traps and ambush spots each time they descended another stairwell or pushed past another shelf. Their general solution was simple: to open fire on everything, whether it moved or not, whether it seemed potentially dangerous or not, laying waste to every inch of the structure with heavy blaster and slugthrower fire. Marauders wielding flamethrowers took point, driving the Chiss back with a curtain of fire.

By the time they had reached the final level, however, the defenders had gained an advantage: their full remaining strength was concentrated on a single floor. The first two attempted Bloodsworn attacks were thrown back, with concentrated fire by the Chiss cutting down the front ranks of marauders over and over. In the end, though, these last holdouts were doomed. When the tribesmen contacted their comrades at the tram station, the trap snapped shut; Bloodsworn attacked from above and below, through stairwells and turbolifts, storming a dozen entry points at the same time. The Chiss fought valiantly... but they just didn't have the numbers.

It was all over within twenty minutes. The scorched remains of the Expeditionary Library's interior, carpeted with the ashes of five millennia's knowledge, were strewn with the mangled corpses of the last defenders. Marauders milled about, taking trophies - guns and knives, certainly, but also teeth, ears, and fingers. They abandoned each level once it was picked over, preparing for its inevitable demolition. Already their minds were fixed on the next conquest, the next chance for glory; they envisioned the bloody storming of Cspalar itself, far behind the trench lines meant to defend the Chiss cities. They would bring terror before the planet's final doom.

Trophies in hand, the Bloodsworn boarded the tram, cramming themselves into cargo compartments and passenger cars alike. They would have only one chance to surprise Cspalar's defenders, so they needed to get as many of them into the city on the first try as possible. Of course, they left ample room for Khaostra and her droids, understanding that the Dark Lady's position in the Brotherhood hierarchy was far above their own. While their true lord Zachariel Steelblood destroyed those who would dare profane Mercy's sacred halls, they would bring blood and death in his name on the planet below, and Khaostra's command would aid them.

For now, they looked forward to the library's destruction...

 

[Starlin Rand]

Objective: Duel of the Fates
Location: Experiencing moral conflict, sort of
Gear: Armor | Shoto
Tags: Syd Celsius | Tegan Starfall (deceased?)

The news didn’t quite bring Starlin’s whole world crashing down. He had already done that himself by giving in to the darkness, even if it was only a momentary lapse. No, hearing Syd say that she had once been a Sith was… weirdly liberating. Finally, so much about her began to make sense, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. Her alkahest, her unnaturalness, the fact that other Jedi were suspicious of her. You couldn’t redeem yourself from the Dark Side and continue to live without drawing the ire and distrust of those who had always walked with the Light.

He didn’t know what to do. On one hand, he desperately wanted to believe Syd had been redeemed. On the other, he wasn’t so sure. She said she had been forced to turn to the Light, molded into what she was by the hands of others, rather than becoming a Jedi on her own? It was all so confusing…

Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention away from the kneeling Syd. A hand was reaching for his master’s fallen sabers.

Starlin activated his shoto. An arc of fire came down upon the figure those hands belonged to, the Light infused within the blade hopefully burning the specter away. Killing it seemed to focus him, shake him out of the stupor. The darkness abated, though he was left shaken by the entire experience.

“Now is not the time for this, Syd,” Starlin said, still holding his blade at the ready. “We have a job to do here.”

His voice was hard, maybe even gruff, but there was an edge of pain and sadness to it as well. This was something they would have to deal with eventually, on their own time. It couldn’t be ignored for long.

With Tegan apparently dead, Starlin headed for the door. “We’ve got to shut down the laser, stop them from blasting anyone else…”