Annihilation Head of the Snake: BotM Annihilation of Csilla

[Kirk Korrado]

TASK FORCE XESH | GETAWAY DRIVER
Maijan Paisea | Kingsley | Viribus | Allyson Locke

​

The Long Run zoomed through hyperspace on yet another suicide mission. Maybe the biggest one the team had faced. The old ship would have the time of her life if this superweapon was hot shit like they said. And damn shame it had to be Csilla, too. Not much beat a tall blue woman who can pack a punch.

Kirk had reluctantly suited up in his own stealth gear when they'd started the jump from Coruscant. He didn't expect to have to leave the ship once they landed, but plans went wrong sometimes. Hell, that's why he'd be caught and pressed into this gang of misfits. He figured he'd at least learn something about proper preparation, since the next worst thing after Task Force Xesh was death. And probably a nasty one.

Was it the massive, chaotic battle between mega-fleets they saw when the ship dropped out of hyperspace that scared him? Hmm... maybe. It also could've been the giant spherical laser cannon hovering intently in orbit in the middle of that sea of laser barrages.

Behind him, the others fumbled with their suits and bickered, as was the standard. At least it kept Kingsley out of his hair.

“That you? Gentleman loserrr?” She asked their pink-skinned get-there and get-away driver.

"Well I'm sure not winning much these days, but I still know how to treat the ladies." he chuckled to Maijan with a wink. While they vibed to the music, Kingsley had something to say about it. He suddenly squeezed his giant bird body between them, nearly pushing Kirk out of his seat and knocking his cowboy hat off. The giant latex rump now basically sitting on his lap obscured most of his view outside. Kirk accidently veered a hard left as Kinglsey pushed him around, fiddling with the console.

"Bad Kingsley, no!" he swatted at the bird man like he was a naughty pet. Kingsley soon found whatever it was he wanted and backed up. How they hadn't been obliterated while one smuggler had all but blinded the other was a mystery and a miracle. When Kirk could get a register on the battle again, they were getting close to their target.

"Now this is music! Kirk my friend, I'm gonna teach you how to live-DANK FERRIK what the hell is THAT?!"

While of course the bird's choice of battle music was a fitting tune, it was too late for Kirk to change it. They were stuck with the thumping rythmatic synths were strangely appropriate for their approach.

"That's our LZ. Now shut up while I get us there in one piece." he informed as he picked up his fallen hat.

The synths rose ever higher as they headed straight for a swarm of Maw starfighters. Kirk's astromech co-pilot, G5, manned the turret, unloading to break their formation. The lead starfighter burst into a plume of debris and fire, which Kirk performed a wide barrel roll to avoid. As his ship slipped through the starfighters he sighed a breath of release until the rear of the ship shook with the force of being hit.

"Feth G-Man, they're on our tail!"

The astromech dutifully swung the turret around to the back and gave them hell. The starfighters got a few more shots in that rocked the ship, but the junk fighter were no match for the junk freighter in the end.

As they neared one of the hangar bays, Kirk slowed the ship to avoid detection. The hangar they landed in was quiet and empty. It was perfect for the time being.

"This party bus has reached the end of the line." he laughed as he touched down and lowered the ramp for Task Force Xesh to leave into the dreaded bowels of the station. "Good luck out there. Even you Kingsley." he tipped the brim of his hat at them as they went off. He watched them move covertly towards the hangar doors. Poor bastards we're likely to get shot any time now.

Once the others were off the ship, he got up to stretch his legs and grabbed a small wooden cigar box from a nearby shelf.

"Alright G5, watch the doors for any of those Maw freaks. Papa needs to get his relax on." Kirk made sure his blaster pistol was within reach as he lit up a cigar, sat back down, and out his boots up on the ship's dashboard. He flicked a few buttons on the ship's console and returned the music to what it had been before. As the music played, he took a slow drag of smoke and sunk deeper into his seat. Now he just had to wait for the others to not die getting those plans...

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Surface of Csilla, Eastern Ridge
Allies: Kyrel Ren , Maestus , Lirka Ka , Khaostra Devoid
Engaged: Kaleleon
Nearby Foes: Major Bennett Hall, Liza , FN-999, DECEASED Erskine Barran , Tyrell Lockhart , Korum Krov, Himm'vaun'merek , Aerarii Tithe , Maple Harte

In all his time as a marauder serving the All-Devouring Maw, The Mongrel had seldom gone into a battle without facing a Force-mage somewhere along the way. The strange wizards seemed to crop up everywhere, as omnipresent as a gizka infestation... only these gizka wielded laser-swords, and could kill you by waving their hands around and staring hard. The Mongrel had seen them display a dizzying array of magic powers, so many variations that nothing they could accomplish with their "Force" surprised him anymore. And so, when the oncoming Jedi slowed his missiles to a crawl, he took it in stride.

He was already setting his mind to finding a new tactic.

The vehicle-obliterating PLX-1 rockets, dragged by an invisible hand until they traveled at a mere quarter of their ordinary speed, seemed frozen in place as Kaleleon and his mount dashed past them. The Mongrel drew some satisfaction at seeing the rider's beast toss its head in momentary distress as a few blaster bolts struck it, but the creature clearly had a tough hide, and it did not slow. The marauder threw his PLX launcher aside, knowing that one of his fellow tribesmen would retrieve it and prepare it to fire when the New Imperial Order made their move. It was clear that the weapon, and even concentrated blasterfire, would be no help here.

He could only hope that slowing and evading the barrage would tire the Jedi somewhat. If he could deflect the fire of a dozen men all the way across the open battlefield and still arrive fresh, they were probably all going to die.

Stepping to the front of his troops and looking down from the top of the slope, The Mongrel drew his trophy ryyyk blade once more. Alloyed with trace cortosis, the massive sword could withstand a clash with a lightsaber, though perhaps not two dozen clashes. The marauder had no illusions that he could survive a long-term melee duel in any case; he was not one of the hulking, bioengineered Knyghts, nor a warrior trained from birth in the art of the blade. But he was one of the only two Bloodsworn (his comrade Alars Keto being the other) who had faced a Jedi and lived to tell the tale, though he hadn't managed to kill one.

No one else here had any chance in the coming confrontation.

Lacking both brute strength and disciplined skill at arms, The Mongrel relied on three chief weapons: cunning, savagery, and technical ingenuity. His trusty satchel was always filled with a dizzying array of devices he'd been tinkering with, from the anti-vehicle grenades he'd developed after the raid on Batuu to the electro-nets he'd deployed against the Jedi on Jakku. Although the onrushing rider was moving faster and faster, The Mongrel knew that he still had a few moments to prepare before the Force-mage was upon him. Time to see what he could find in his bag of tricks to try and even the odds a bit.

If he played his cards right, perhaps this time he could take a laser-sword as a trophy. The thought brought a savage grin to his face.

Working quickly, The Mongrel produced a long spool and launcher from inside his satchel. Kaleleon had already proven that no projectile could even scratch him, so grenades were probably similarly useless; he might even be able to use his magic to toss them back at The Mongrel, as that master monk on Tiantang had done with his scattergun pellets. But could the Jedi fight what he couldn't see? At the edge of the trench the Brotherhood had dug at the top of the slope, defending against any charge up the cliffside, two huge durasteel pikes had been sunk into the earth. They would be the anchors of The Mongrel's defenses.

Working quickly, the marauder activated the magnetic properties of the launcher. Then he pointed it first at one pike, then at the other. To the naked eye, nothing seemed to happen... but that was because monofilament wire was so thin that no human could see it unaided. It was also incredibly, diabolically sharp. The Mongrel used his launcher to deploy two strands of it across the top of the trench, between the two pikes. One was at the level of Narma's legs, meant to sever her limbs and hobble the beast. The other was at the level of Kaleleon's neck. If the Jedi kept riding so fast toward them, the invisible defense would end his threat.

But The Mongrel was not so foolish as to assume that any single tactic would defeat such a dangerous enemy. Ever since his scattergun had been turned back on him in the Fangshi-Da Temple, he had been working on ways to kill magic-wielders that could not so easily be countered. Reaching into his satchel once more, he reassured himself of another weapon's presence... even as he slipped the strap of a gas mask around his neck, ready to slide it on as soon as it was needed. This particular weapon might kill some of his own troops if he had to deploy it, but the death of a Jedi would far outweigh the lives of even a hundred tribesmen.

At the hilltop trench, behind the wire trap, The Mongrel waited, fighting down his fear. He would have to try every trick he could think of, or that warrior's laser-sword would certainly take him apart in seconds.

 

[Starlin Rand]

Objective: Duel of the Fates
Location: Boarding the superweapon
Gear: Armor | Lightsaber | Shoto
Tags: Syd Celsius | Tegan Starfall (soon to be engaging)

Water burst from pipes overhead. Starlin skidded across the wet floor, taken off guard. His shoto, powered by a lava crystal, smoked and sputtered violently in his left hand before deactivating, while his lightsaber blade simply winked out.

It served as a momentary distraction—but it was enough. The woman had already stepped out of the way, avoiding a collision. His attack had failed.

Rain pattered off his armor as Starlin cursed and put away his useless weapons. Right off the bat, his opponent had disarmed him. Or so she thought.

Now she was acting almost like she was surrendering, offering up the child freely, though it was obvious something wasn’t right here. Not this chit again, Starlin groaned inwardly. Already he could sense the fight running away from him, spoiled out of a real duel yet again.

“What have you done to the kid?” he demanded, his annoyance plain. He didn't have time to waste on tricksy hobbitses.

The Force swirled around Tegan at Starlin’s bidding, forming a telekinetic web to bind her in place. Whatever she had planned, she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

 

[Gallius Orcana]

ALLIES | NIO | GA | NJO |EE | CIS | FO | CA | Albrecht F. Herlock | Constantine Oliva | Teica Giraan | Ryv | Maple Harte | Thale | Roudac Gannan |
ENEMIES | BotM |Kainate | SE | WotS | Tu'teggacha | Aldo Garrick | Talon Kyber | CETCOM | Derix Tirall |


NIV PRIDE OF THE EMPEROR

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
AZURE HAMMER COMMAND

THE BARBARIANS BROKE THE LIMES
​

The Chiss were a peculiar species and people. They were isolationnists, hid their emotions and reveled in pragmatism, whilst being attached to their home planet and protecting it at all costs. The forces deployed to defend Csilla were consequent, but most of the CEDF's bulk had been attracted to the Redoubt, engaged in a bitter fight for an outer colony. Meanwhile, the capital of the Ascendancy was besieged by an armada of rag-tag barbarians, pirates and Dark Side cultists. If Gallius had heard the news from a distance, he would have laughed and dismissed the subject. These matters were of militia and planetary defence forces to handle, not of the Imperial Navy.

Part of this judgment laid in the contempt Gallius nourished towards the Dark Side and its servants, but most of it was due to his high regard of the CEDF's abilities. This flotilla of aliens had birthed Grand Admiral Thrawn, handled the Vagaari invasion, the Ssi-Ruvi threat, contained the Yuuzhan Vong for decades. They could handle easily a bunch of malnourished hobos armed with weapons made of litteral garbage, be it reinforced with the power of the Force or not. As such, the Commodore did not see the point of engaging any assets into that battle : it was a pure waste of time and energy.

But Orcana read the reports he got on Csilla. His arrogant judgment had convinced him, mistakenly, that it was but a minor incursion of barbarians, easily dealt with. What he saw was terrifying. An armada bigger than the ones he had seen during his fight against the Sith had assembled, lead by superdestroyers awoken from an antique age, and a weapon which reminded him of the Death Star, the Sun Crusher, and many more weapons the Sith had used to wage their nefarious conflicts. Facing the armada of living ships and salvaged cruisers, was the most impressing fleet the Commodore had ever seen. Warriors form the First Order and the Galactic Alliance were there, backed by the Jedi, the Confederacy, and the Eternal Empire. The Hasklers were also represented by a handful of frigates, and all of this mighty army was there to oppose the Brotherhood of the Maw and their Sith allies.

How could the Sith hold the line when facing five of the most powerful states the galaxy housed nowadays ? They held, simply waiting, protecting their weapon of mass destruction, the line of defence almost untouched. But this was to change very, very soon. The Azure Hammer Command would show to these filthy pirates what the New Imperial Order, and the rest of the civilised galaxy, could accomplish. Csilla would not fall. Csilla would never fall.

ALLONS CHERCHER L'ENNEMI : SI J'AVANCE, SUIVEZ-MOI, SI JE RECULE, TUEZ-MOI, SI JE MEURS, VENGEZ-MOI !​

The Commodore had calculated his hyperjump to the meter, and planned on emerging along the Galactic Alliance's vessels then spearhead towards the dreadnoughts and break the defensive line. Those who could follow would engulf themselves into the breach, the others would harass the lines as they could. Gallius was well aware the dreadnoughts were not the only target, but it was the most important for now. The various Sith and pirate vessels flanking the superweapon were to be dealt with, of course, bu they were lesser opponents, and the Commodore never cared about lesser opponents.

When the Azure Hammer Command emerged from hyperspace, it positionned itself close to Teica Giraan 's ship, then opened fire towards the closest ships. The rain of fire was a tactic commonly used to handle swarms of enemies or ground forces, but against such a horde, it would be efficient. The objective was to deter the smallest vessels to approach, buying the time necessary to launch the fighters, and recalibrate the hologram displaying the current state of battle. Gallius would also contact the First Order and Galactic Alliance in order to build a battle plan and destroy the barbarians' fleet.

"To all and every allied vessel, this is Commodore Gallius Orcana speaking. The New Imperial Order refuses to abandon the Chiss against the waves of barbary and destruction we face, and I swear to give my life for this cause. No mercy will be given, no mercy will be begged, because this is not a battle between two powers for a planet or a location. This is the clash of civilisations, the struggle to keep our ways of living intact.

Soldiers, fellow Imperials, comrades of free worlds and civilised states, take heart ! We will refuse the pernicious promises the Dark Side can whisper to our minds, we will deny the pirates the right to defile Csilla. We will stand and hold our ground against the evil incarnate. We will send them back to their worlds of anarchy, we will purge the galaxy from their presence !

I now call upon the fighting spirit we all have growing in our hearts. The onslaught may begin, and we will meet the vandals head on. We are the first and the last wall they will encounter. If we hold, they'll die. If we break, we'll die and our corpses will freeze in the coldness of space forever, silent witnesses of our failure ! I refuse to stain my honour in such way, and I cannot believe any of you would allow it either. Let's go, let's seek the enemy ! If I advance, follow me, if I fall back, kill me, if I die, avenge me !"

 

[Atlas Drake]

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

---

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

"What now, cap'n? Two of us against an army. I don't like those odds."

"We can't be the only ones who made it aboard," Atlas answered in a hushed voice, "I only got a glimpse of her hull but there should be a docking bay next level up. Let's see if we can't track down some blaster fire."

Captain Drake tugged off his EVA helmet and secured it onto his belt. He checked the Glie-44 blaster's power cell and gave a worn down old portable scanner several whacks so it would initialize. It was set on thermal imaging until Atlas toggled the lifeform sensor. Clusters of blinking dots winked to life on its screen...too many clusters. Navigating around unnoticed would be almost impossible without any kind of stealth tech but they had to try. Countless lives were at stake.

"This way," he motioned down the access corridor, "Looks like there's some kind of junction ahead."

His crewman shouldered their remaining Firelance rifle while Drake took point. This wasn't exactly the captain's first time crawling around in the guts of a battlestation but usually they were salvage missions into abandoned wrecks. Not without its dangers and yet not quite on the same level as raiding a legion of Wild Space zealots and their hired guns. This whole thing was a long shot no mistake but if he could get somewhere with real access there was a chance he could figure out how to shut it all down.

"Hold it," Captain Drake paused, "That might be a terminal."

He set down his scanner next to the exotic computer relay. Atlas put his limited codebreaking skills to work trying to slice the Maw's authorization protocols. It took him a few seconds to notice the soft beeps of an approaching lifeform slowly accelerate. Sweat beaded his brow. Gaining rudimentary access proved simple enough but he couldn't figure out how to trick the system into believing he was someone more important.

"Karabast!" he swore, "We keep moving."

"Cap'n! Look out-"

Atlas wheeled around in time to see a vicious looking primitive metal spear impale his remaining crewman through the chest. A spray of blaster bolts flew wide as the Firelance rifle clutched in now lifeless hands clattered to the deck. Standing on a bridge which joined two sections over a chasm within the superstructure there was a ghost manifesting itself out of old Nihil myths and legends ( Adaz ). He screamed at it in a mixture of grief and rage before lifting his blaster to fire.

---

WEAPONS & EQUIPMENT​

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

 

[Elle Mors]

Csilla Ground

MEMORY OF U​

Gone.

Like a ghost she'd been absent from the watchful eyes of the Sith and the rest of the galaxy, anyone that might've remembered her before the change. A lightsaber was held tightly in the clenched fist of her right hand, her left brushing aside blonde strands that had fallen in front of her eyes in the breeze, as green eyes surveyed the landscape. The distinctive bracelet she'd been tethered by on her forearm was nowhere to be seen, an artifact that she'd separated herself from by some manner or another in her time of anonymity. For perhaps a year, maybe less - she'd lost track of time in the void of space - she'd meditated on the separation from her past, coming to terms with the series of circumstances that had pushed her far from the comfort of complacency in the Sith Empire, from her friends, and led her to the solitary life she'd led until now.

Meditation hadn't been the only distraction she had occupied herself with, the callused skin on her fingers and palms were evidence of the menial labor, or perhaps involved training, she'd kept up with in seclusion. Her mind wandered for a moment, as it generally did when she wasn't totally occupied, and lingered on a familiar color - purple - before she shook the thought from her head before it could blossom into a feeling she wouldn't like. The feeling of darkness weighing heavily in the air, a side effect of the presence of so many that clung to the dark side or acted with cruelty, drew her attention elsewhere like a much-needed beacon of importance. The Brotherhood of the Maw had already become a familiar name to the wayseeker, her efforts to remain lost had taken her far from the other side of the galaxy and deep into the unknown regions - always just a stone's throw from Chiss space, if resources ever became scarce.

Scarcity, in fact, was precisely what had led her to Csilla and thrust her into a conflict she hadn't been planning to be a part of. There wasn't a fiber in her being that wanted to be involved in galactic affairs but it seemed like the force had plans contrary to her own. She grumbled, making her way down a small hill, as she accepted the fact that she would be forced to fight. 'At least it'll keep me distracted.' She thought, her eyes glancing down towards the lightsaber in her hand. Turning her gaze back to where the conflict on the ground was steadily coming into view, she nodded - she was just happy it wasn't raining.

She hated rain.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

A dark side cult threatening to destroy a planet.

The rest of the galaxy uniting in defense.

An all-out battle against the forces of darkness.

It wasn't the first time, and in this galaxy, it certainly wouldn't be the last. Natasi Fortan was just pleased that the First Order was in a position to stand in defense of Csilla; she considered it the First Order's moral obligation to stand in defense against genocide, but even more than that, they owed a special debt to Csilla and the Chiss. The Chiss had stood with the First Order against the Ssi-Ruuk, and a number of Chiss had helped to retake and resettle Dosuun. The friendship between the Chiss and the First Order was strong.

And it was important enough that Natasi had to be there. She was not the kind to take a holovideo call with destiny. So there she was, aboard the ship, hurtling through hyperspace towards what was sure to be a deadly conflict. She couldn't imagine that Dyrn Grav was thrilled with the arrangement, but there was nothing to be done about it now. The die was cast; if push came to shove, the Allegro was on standby to evacuate her. It would be a bad look, to be sure, but there was nothing to be done about that, either.

Natasi emerged from the turbolift onto the bridge deck of the flagship. Roudac Gannan stood at the center of the bridge, looking very much in his element. She waited as he provided his instructions. It wouldn't do to to interrupt or to pull focus. When it sounded like he was winding down, she approached. Natasi was dressed in a standard First Imperial Navy Admiral's uniform: crisp black trousers and tunic, dark chestnut hair pinned back into an efficient bun, calf-high boots gleaming to a sparkle.

"Allegiant General," she said with a nod as she surveyed the strategic display. "Very impressive. Your battlefield composure is quite good." She came to stand next to him, clasping her hands behind her back. "I'll do my best to stay out of your way, but if there's anything I can do to assist you, don't hesitate." Natasi studied the strategic displays a little more closely, frowning thoughtfully. "What's your preliminary assessment of the situation, Allegiant General?" she asked.

 

[Dimitri Voltura]

ALLIES: Chiss and allies
ENEMIES: BOTM and allies
ENGAGING: Zachariel Steelblood
GEAR:

Spoiler

Lightsaber
Force Imbued Sith Blade
Force Imbued Cortosis-weave Sith Armour

FRONTLINES​

The Dragon struck again and again.

Yet he moved like a specter through the planet killer, unseen until it was too late. For centuries he had hunted this way and it was yet to fail him where lesser beings were concerned. Through it all, The Snake was present in his head, yet remained quiet - content to see the Dark Warrior step forth and feed with frenzy on the death and destruction once again.

All the voices were quiet.

Afraid to speak.

As Dimitri approached the bowels of this vast enterprise, he stopped dead in his swift tracks. He could sense the swirling Darkness ahead. The hatred and the desire for destruction.

And no attempt to mask it whatsoever.

Whoever it was was either very brave or very foolish. Not that it mattered, as both have been felled by the Sith Lord's hand for nigh on a millennium now. Dimitri knew very well that he was adding more and more souls to the pool of specters that plagued him at night, but today was not a day for caring about such things. Those that thought themselves more powerful than mightier empires would learn that to play with fire, would not just get themselves burned, but completely incinerated.

The Obsidian Lord's eyes burned like dragon fire as he cloaked himself in a Dark barrier. He then faced the door.
"Are you certain you wish to continue with this foolishness?" he called out to the source of the of the swirling hatred within that room, his voice augmented by the Force.

He then pushed himself forward at the speed of light, knowing very well that those doors would slam shut behind him. What his assailant did not know, was that he cared little about that. By no means was he the only one assigned to stop this weapon from firing. When the Galaxy answers in a unified voice, you can be sure someone would succeed somewhere in preventing any more destruction.

As he moved over the threshold, he hurled a mighty Push in the general direction where he had felt was the center of the Dark hatred, not even disconcerted by the doors slamming shut behind him. He merely kept moving in a blur, senses wide open and the Force at the ready along with his saber.

 

[Darth Ananta]

HUMAN​

Chaos, blood, and war - triumvirate three, masters of the galaxy's destiny. Jedi, they harp on peace, preach for camaraderie, and praise their piercingly bright light as the truth, the way; but here, in the heart of conflict, the façade of peace reveals how devoid the denizens of space are of their precious light while the darkness rises from the pit in the hearts of beings of a different kind. The Brotherhood of the Maw, lacking in refinery though they might be, were precisely the catalyst for change that the galaxy needed.

That she wanted.

Darth Carnifex might have been the reason she'd even bothered to show, but it was the promise of strife that drew her in - shed of the skin that she'd worn, of Irina Volkov, the Sith had returned as Ananta once more. The opportunity for open conflict, for the blurred lines between friend and foe, was an opiate for her - a snake, traitorous to all and loyal to none. The destruction of worlds was a sight to behold, one that the galaxy had seen only a handful of times in the last millennia, and she was determined to make sure that it would be a much more common affair in the years to come.

Deep in the bowels of the station she lurked - not quite so far from her partner that one could not sense the other, but far enough as to be in isolation from the other.

Allyson Locke

 

[Adhira Chandra]

The Queen's Gambit
LOCATION: Alliance One, approaching Csilla
OBJECTIVE: II - Preservation of Liberty
ALLIES: GA // NIO // SJC // Lightside
ENEMIES: Brotherhood of the Maw

"Madam Chancellor, we have just dropped out of hyperspace and are approaching Csilla,"

Adhira was sitting in a high command chair overlooking the bridge, which was buzzing already with life. A few well-dressed military advisors stood by at attention, but the rest of the crew continued about their business. The woman gripped the arms of her chair. "Let's send out the Ferrets, she said, seeming to have gained a grasp on the lingo, "we need to know exactly what we are getting ourselves into. Keep out of firing range." There was an authority in her voice that made the officers obey, but even the military advisors nodded in approval at her first official move as an active commander of the field.

The Chancellor had willed against the Senate, her Cabinet, and Alliance High Command when she declared her intent to help oversee the efforts on Csilla. Even her family had pled with her to remain behind on Coruscant. But something that soldier said shook her to her core. She needed to see the cost of war. She would be the cost of war if that was what it took. Ultimately, no one could deny her passage on Alliance One, settling instead for a full naval detachment of gunships, battleships, star destroyers, and a buzzing hive of fighters.

The words of Suri Vullen accompanied with the unthinkable thread of annihilation had ultimately spurred the Chancellor to break free from the chains of Coruscant and now she was staring out across the vast expanse of the abyss the ones who sought to do what no faction had done in centuries: destroy a planet. The Galactic Alliance was not perfect. They were not the paragons of truth and justice that the galaxy wanted them to be. They faltered and fell down, but they continued to try to bring peace to the galaxy and balance to the Force. And today, they would stand against the Maw.

Adhira watched from the wide window of the bridge as she awaited word from her military officers.

​

​

 

[Hakon Fett]

BYOO | NIO | SUPERWEAPON
C O M P N O R
what do you see in the dark when the demons come for you

The black maw of space lit up into a thousand different colors as the titans of war clashed leaving in their wake nothing but death. He'd seen it so many times, uncountable times; from another time and another life. A life before embracing Abaddon.

He had learned the hard way that wars were always won through unconventional means. All these crewmen that would die by the hundreds grasping at the cold embrace of space, all these soldiers on the ground who would be left unburied by the thousands on a foreign soil - expendable distractions for the real combatants.

Those like Abaddon.

With a loud thud, followed by a sharp sound of drilling, then a hiss of depressurized air, the deadliest trio of COMPNOR stepped upon the steel surface of the Brotherhood's superweapon.

"Find and acquire the plans to the weapon. And if the opportunity arises--" he reiterated their mission brief to the two moving in from behind him,

"-- fire it."

ALLIES: COMPNOR | Rika Hiro | Joren Loft
ENEMIES: EVERYONE | TASK FORCE XESH [SOON] | Maijan Paisea | Kirk Korrado | Kingsley | Allyson Locke

 

[UX-0626]

Location: BoTM Trenches - Csilla
Theme: Nothing New - The Strike
Allies: TK ( Darth Carnifex ) │ BotM ( Lirka Ka The Mongrel Kyrel Ren Maestus )
Enemies: CA ( Liza Ziroka ) │ NIO (FN-999 DECEASED Erskine Barran Major Bennett Hall Tyrell Lockhart ) │ GA ( Aerarii Tithe ) │ Independent ( Himm'vaun'merek ) │ CIS ( Maple Harte )
Direct Opposition: @Open

The red-armored strandcast soldiers of the Kainate stood in stark contrast to the snarling, savage marauder hordes of the Brotherhood, but for now, the two forces worked as allies in service to the Eclipsing Mission, waging brutal war against the armies of Order and Light to usher in a new Age of Darkness. Standing among her brothers and sisters, UX-0626 was once more deployed to further the aims of her Master, the All Consumer and the Great Eater of Worlds. She did so with frantic, unceasing devotion, yet honed by discipline and experience. Even so, the strandcast had grown even more fanatic since her creation, her fervor increasing with every life she took in the name of the Eternal Lord. She had taken up the ritual of self-flagellation before battle, her pale skin marred with crimson marks and blood, deep lacerations which stung even after she had put on her armor. Such was the intent, as the pain strengthened her focus in a way that no stim could match.

Where the Brotherhood deployed hordes of insane clones to overwhelm the defensive lines of the coalition forces on the ground, the Kainate did so from the skies, with swarms of flying, hive-minded Vorn-Strunga, armed only with Sienar blaster rifles as they sought to strike the defenders from above, though still largely functioning along the same vein as the Moon Children in serving as cannon fodder.

As the Moon Children charged across the no man’s land between the trenches, 626 stared down the sights of an anti-materiel rifle, scanning across the horizon for targets before striking down a pair of Imperial machine gunners with large caliber slugs to the head that rendered their bodies as little more than decapitated corpses to be pushed aside for the next soldier to take the place of the dead.

Pushing back into cover within the trench, it was only then that 626 noticed the tracer fire of @Erskine Barran’s rifles, which was matched by that of the Brotherhood to create a dazzling, if frightening son et lumière over the icy terrain. 626 immediately took advantage of the display, hefting her rifle with a grunt as she repositioned to a different location along the trenches, intent upon delivering precise sniper fire at the Galidraani forces attacking the marauders on the eastern ridge.

Spoiler: Loadout

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

 

[The Amalgam]

Wearing: Resistance Epidermis

Armed with: First Degree Burn

Eternal Silence

Skin Shears (Purple, Double Bladed Split-Saber)

Accompanied by: The Cult of The Brain Demon (14)

Eternal Prosecutor (007)

Came to Mercy Station in: The Corrupted Flesh

Objective 3 (Prevent the Mercy Station from Firing)


The Amalgam was a complete villain, make no mistake about that.

That said, she was also of the opinion the Dark Side was not served in the destruction of the Chiss.

It was the same wasteful behavior she condemned in the Bryn'adul, the move of a foolish, petty greed. The Chiss were too valuable as a society to so pointlessly kill them all.

They had reached out to her and her terrible Darkness in the Force, obviously. Invited her to join and take part in the feeding of death.

The Amalgam, disgusted by the anarchic attitude (Which The Dark Evangelist absolutely did not support) in many of them, had viciously tortured and fed on the souls of the messengers, telling them to their face she considered them the trash of The Universe, before calling for experienced members of her cult to accompany her to the station.

Bombing a city was one thing. She could do that with a smile and kill every adult and youngling within horribly. But she likened it to the predator chasing down the oldest and weakest of prey, improving the strength of the survivors. Super-Weapons were the height of cowardice, even for a creature as vicious and brutal as she.

Also, Laertia AND Maple had asked her too. As a favor. The Darth Phyre hiding inside The Amalgam could not deny the request, and the Surface Persona flat out refused to deny Maple at all because Maple had willingly asked.

She had used her own blood, tracing runes all over the hull of her beloved Phantom Class Yacht, The Corrupted Flesh, for a temporary spell. She had brought a party with her! A nice mix of Dark Side Witches adept at Stealth and Droids of her own design (Another thing she had taught Laertia about as Ursula).

The Phantom Class Yacht, pearl white save for a few well placed red highlights, streaked out of hyperspace, ship lasers blazing through multiple Maw starfighters. Despite flying a militarized stealth yacht as opposed to a Starfighter, it did nothing to alleviate her deadliness in space combat, and she viciously chewed into the Maw Aces that opposed her approach to Mercy Station, her yacht unexpectedly manueverable, even as it sustained multiple hits. But with the mentor of The Black Knight and The Golden Eye at the piloting controls The Antique Military Vehicle was a soaring hawk in the black void, lancing through targets with precise burst fire, whipping through crowds, her jamming systems interfering with their tracking, her body feeding off the death all around her. Her Witch subordinates were actually amazed at how good she was. How crafty she flew the military craft that was still more advanced than some more modern ones despite the design being out of date by thousands of years. It had been upgraded mainly in the shields and electronics department. The handling and piloting was all The Amalgam's.

The blood ritual she conducted allowed her to slip through the outer shields (though the ship rocked with the effort) and allowed her to reach a hangar where she set down. Her terrible, rotting aura in The Force began to permeate the area as she stepped off her ship, accompanied by her entourage of skintight white catsuit wearing witches, and deadly droids. They would stand guard.

She ordered 007 of the witches to make their way deeper into the station and find the means to sabotage it. She herself was going to take the rest and kill High Value targets on the station itself.

The Amalgam left the Droids in charge of holding down the ship area while they were away. The Witch drew her Double Bladed Purple Split-Saber and ventured through the passages. Darth Carnifex was here, performing some sort of terrible ritual she could feel making her flesh shudder disgustingly as she encountered the first of the stations defenders.

She roared, sprinting into them and slashing and stabbing violently in the barrowed randomness of Juyo from her Niman form, integrating Force Lightning into her attacks as she began to fight her way to the likes of Darth Solipsis and Other Space Kaiden . That said, she reveled in the pleasure of a simple slaughter, sneering at her disorganized opposition even as her flesh warped across her body, as her blades cut into them.

The Amalgam truly was the Balance of her two students. Sword and blaster and Force, she combined them all fluidly as she fought, whereas her students fought in extremes. Powerful warriors were torn down in seconds by her and her Witches, all of whom delighted in this, and fought as brutally as she did, empowered by the Dark Side...

It was a strange day indeed when the Amalgam was opposing cruelty and slaughter. She respected The Chiss, thought they could all make excellent servants of The Dark Side. She would never willingly count herself among these Vermin...

 

[FN-999]

​

LOCATION: CSILLA - NIO TRENCHES
ARTILLERY: 12/12
ALLIES: NIO & CO | In relative proximity of Aerarii Tithe / Enedina Tal / DECEASED Erskine Barran / Major Bennett Hall / Tyrell Lockhart
ENEMIES: DA MAW | Engaging NPC units under Lirka Ka / The Mongrel

PAX IMPERIUM
N I N E S

​

“They’re animals, barbarians, without honour or acumen,” he observed. “At least we could anticipate and antagonise the Sith.”

"Indeed." replied FN-999. "However, we must not use this as an excuse to underestimate our foes. In my many years of service, I've found that the least diciplined of savages tend to flatten their foes through raw power."

"Reporting friendly and hostile movements."
​

The lieutenant legion commander's attention returned to the the command room as one of his own lieutenants delivered a combat report.

"Hostiles are descending the cliff, they likely intend to climb back up and flank from our right."

"That's nearly a hundred meter drop! Are they trying to kill themselves? And how would they get back up?"

"Enough of those suicidal maniacs survived that they remain a threat. A detachment of allies from another unit led by Major Bennett Hall is holding them off, but we don't know how dynamic the line below us might become. In our haste to assemble the trenches, we failed to notice a thin crevasse running up to the right of our third line, a crevasse that could be used to envelop us. Additionally, the Maw forces have deployed their aces to support the climbers."

As it seemed, the rumored war beasts had finally arrived. Nodding in reply to the lieutenant's statement, FN-999 moved to issue another local encrypted order.

[All allied units, there is a crevasse hidden in the cliff face that emerges just behind our third line. One hundred troopers from the second line should immediately prioritize taking some of the soil behind the third line and using it to cover the crevasse up. Major Hall, you and your unit has twenty minutes to wrap up down there before we bury the crevasse and trap the Maw five hundred meters under. We'll do our best to cover you from the beasts while remaining considerate of operations above. Artillery units 1-4, load incendiary rounds and fire as far down as you can.]

The preparation of incendiary rounds was a decision that FN-999 had deliberated on extensively, uncertain as to whether or not the rumored great war beasts of the Maw would be deployed near him. Additionally, while he drew upon basic knowledge of most organic material being weak to flames, he was uncertain as to whether or not the massive insects shared such vulnerabilities. If not, then they would be largely wasted where infinitely reliable APHE rounds could tear deep holes in almost anything. However, the lieutenant legion commander's gamble had paid off.

The rightmost artillery turned down to face the valley dozens of meters underneath them, their guns sloping nearly 60 degrees downwards. Within their hypervelocity barrels were large and soft shells filled with highly flammable chemicals that would ignite once their casing shattered on a target, instantly consuming them in an inferno four times hotter than a typical campfire. Targeting the beasts nearest to friendly units and the cliff crevasse, the cannons fired, the flames spitting from their barrels a prelude to the damage they would hopefully deal upon contact.

In the meantime, the front line of the trenches remained resolute under heavy fire. Many of the troopers in the front were assault company veterans, sturdily built, mentally resilient, and used to fighting enemies who were superior in quantity. The other eight artillery units fired away uninterrupted, HE rounds dropped upon advancing infantry and APHE rounds targeting any vehicle with mounted artillery before they returned fire of their own. Still, the left fourth of the front trench began to buckle, troopers rushing to reinforce the line and repair damaged structures. However, it was becoming increasingly obvious that the first trench would soon need to be evacuated to ensure a safe exit and proper regrouping of the remaining members of the 409th and allies.

Far beyond the front, a hundred troopers rushed behind the trenches. However, they were neither deserting nor routed. Wielding shovels instead of rifles, they began to amass a great pile of dirt (The Dig), a pile that would hopefully soon be large enough to deny the hordes of the Maw an entrance behind the trenches.

 

[Syd Celsius]

Syd hissed in discomfort as the rain came down, causing little spurts of steam to escape her body as the fat drops hit, shutting off her orange blades. It distracted her, diminished her focus slightly as she prepared to attack.

Her flesh wriggled and melted and reset in a endless and disgusting pattern as Tegan Starfall taunted them about the child.

Syd remembered enough about her life as Darth Phyre to be familiar with this tactic.

"She's put a bomb in the child..." The Force Spawn said, sick to her stomach.

She didn't know what type of explosive was in the child. It could have been booby-trapped to react to Force Adepts attempting to disarm it. Syd, even weakened as she was by the rain, was still a lethal threat. It took twice the Focus, but she conjured a set of fiery sword constructs, sending them into the backs of the scarred men that had been escorting the child (Syd didn't feel like being merciful--everyone here was trying to kill a planet so feth 'em.) and then one fiery sword surging at high speed towards her spine while Syd drew her crossbow pistol and fired a bolt right at her throat, trying to figure out a way to help the child, but she was ultimately here to feth the station up. If she had to pick between all of Csilla or an innocent child, she would pick saving Csilla.

"Starlin! Force Light!" She called out.

 

[Chimera]

A C C E L E R A N 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

Csilla. A world he had heard spoken of ages ago, one which had seen itself toppled from the tiers of excellence and fade into relative obscurity as the rest of the galaxy moved on, leaving its inhabitants to either capitalize on the dust or shake it free. A cry through the Darkside had unified them all, divisive as these things typically were, a call for a joint effort could not be ignored. As disgusted as he was to have hand in the plan the ravenous Brotherhood wished to see unfold, he had decided all of those blessed with their gifts had a part to play. Fate was a cruel mistress, one the assassin had no intentions of denying. Most of his allies lurked with their contemporaries in the weapon looming overhead, casting its threatening darkness over the surface of the world below.

He lingered on the edges of the greater conflict, poised upon the ridgeline as a white-clad speck against the glacial background. Beneath him the hordes collided, stormtroopers trampled over beneath the ravenous appetite of the Maw's psychosomatic cannon-fodder, those Moon Children, who thrust themselves onto the ends of bayonets willingly just to get a chance to tear the eyes out of the sockets of their foes. They, like their masters, delighted in such simple savagery. Milky eyes watched the scenes unfold in tandem, the rise, and fall of the tide of ravenous forces. How they tore each other apart to reach their goal. Red stained the snow in every direction, melting it into steaming, puddling sludge and creating an environment worn down to the permafrosted ground beneath its billowy span. He considered for a silent moment, leaving this madness to tire itself out. There was nothing for him here. He did not delight in evil for the sake of evil, but he dared not defy Fate.

Expelling a heated, dragon's breath, steam hissed from the man's exposed skin as the forges within his core were stoked higher, warming him against the frigid wind slicing at him at his elevated position. Dead eyes flicked from the sea of red sludge below to the wall he witnessed them from, squinting at the reflective glisten of the icy surface. The New Imperials had dug themselves into a point they believed could be held effortlessly- a choke point that could be used to survive the waves of hellish creations the Maw unleashed upon the world. Had they covered the ridgelines more effectively, perhaps the devilish thought crossing the pyromancer's mind would have dissipated.

Snow hissed beneath his feet as he turned away from the show, moving to enact his plan.

Moments dragged by, however, and with them the ground had begun to rumble in churning, groaning rhythm. A veteran of these affairs, the assassin wrapped himself in a cloak of The Force, vanishing from sight just as the first of the New Imperial armor rolled over the ridge, working tirelessly to keep raining fire on the Maw forces as they climbed. Stalwart, Chimera kept himself still, unwilling to surrender his position by leaving further tracks in the snow. He waited, watching in brooding silence as they pounded into the terrain, fighting for every inch of traction they could on the slope.

A shifting thought morphed his infernal plan to bury the New Imperials alive into something else entirely.

The heavy vehicles were straining to make the climb on the unsteady terrain. It seemed only the slightest tip of the scales would send them grinding right back down the way they had come, as numerous as they were. And when they had passed him by, the assassin surged onward, still under the guise of Force manipulated reality- save for those footprints he left in the snow.

He stoked his flames higher as he released his cloak, exposing himself to the light.

The Blue-Heart thermal sensors would scream in alarm.

Fire erupted from his frame with a hellish pop, crackling as it lashed its angry tongue against the wind and bitter air. Chimera wove his hands backward, torquing his shoulders in their sockets as he charged the frigid air until it could take no more and burst into flame, spreading to catch his hands and arms. On the surface, he was burning alive, so it seemed- yet no harm befell him. This, was his natural state, where he found his flow. His comfort. His strength. His hands clenched to fists by his sides and without a word, the stalker lunged forward with physicality bolstered by The Force.​

He was a living bomb.​

He hugged himself, urging his fire hotter and hotter, barely able to contain its fury- it seemed- as he strained against its desire for destruction. And when at last, Chimera had reached his destination on the Blue-Heart backline, a tempest of explosive flame burst from him with the opening of his arms. The snow melted in an instant, crafting a cradle of muck for the treaded tanks to struggle in, though this would be the least worrisome of the Blue-Hearts' woes. The flaming tempest screamed from the Sith Lord's body, generating enough explosive force to stagger the vehicles and knock them about on their unsteady surface, and that was all it was meant to do. Disorient. He raked his hands skyward, charging the air before the column until its atoms burst, erupting into a wall of searing flame. The ice melted rapidly, loosening its hold on the terrain, threatening a collapse.

This, the pyrokinetic capitalized on, curling his flaming fingers inward to grasp at the quaking earth, and abruptly, he wrenched it from its bed. All he had to do was sweep the legs out from under the ridge and gravity would do the rest for him. The glacial wall shrieked in protest as ice ground against ice, cracking with strain imposed upon it now. It couldn't hold the weight. The first few seconds were anticlimatic, with only sheets of ice breaking and shed from the bank. It seemed nothing was going to happen.

And all at once, the snow loosened, ice splintered, and the wall gave, bursting into a thunderous avalanche meant to bury the armored division and knock them from the steep incline, sending them right back to the bottom.
​

ALLIES | THE DARK SIDE | WotS | The Mongrel
FOES | NIO | GA | THE LIGHT | FN-999 DECEASED Erskine Barran Major Bennett Hall

 

[Teica Giraan]

[Location: Csila's Orbit - Escape Pod]
[Objective: Survive]
[Commander Giraan Reporting]​

It was their faces that got to her.

Scarred. Sorrowful. Desperate. Officers with only basic medical training sat hunched over their wounded comrades, others rendered speechless by the event. Teica's stomach felt sick. Sick for her failure to comfort them, her failure to protect them, her failure to stand up; to say "We're going to survive," or "This is the worst it gets."

Escape pods, ten or fifteen of them, floated away from the debris of what used to be the ANV Resolution, the once proud missile frigate that struck down a Crucifix-class star destroyer. The other two star destroyers loomed nearby, now being battered from all sides, the price of their bloodlust. Shrapnel came off, explosions blipped and faded, and Mercy charged her weapon.

Her leg ached, having been strained to its limits by the desperate retreat to the escape pods, coupled with the commander's previous injuries. The claustrophobic chamber stank of blood, and burnt flesh.

Weak.

Teica's entire body was weak, her mouth, her legs, her arms. Each second, the world faded in and out. The others could only watch as their commander remained broken, and refusing to accept help. Peacemaker. The shouts came back to her all at once, the orders to brace for impact, the screams of shrapnel-struck crewmen, the shattering of durasteel and transparasteel alike. Then, they reverted to the scrambling of feat, the pleas for help, the repeated orders to run growing louder and louder. Another casualty of her command.

The blood continued to leak, her body stayed numb, the demoralized faces never ceased, and the world continued to fade out.

"Commander!" A muffled voice appeared in her ears, "She's losing too much blood. Get me a sterile cloth, now!"

Captain Lalhdene looked from overhead, a desperate expression appearing on his face, a frantic pant reaching her ears. He put as much pressure as he could on her leg, holding a white cloth in a distressed attempt to stop the bleeding. Eventually, the process calmed down, and the commander began to return to consciousness. A broken smile came across Lalhdene's face as he nodded to her.

"You're going to be okay..commander...You're going to be okay."

If only that statement applied to them all.

 

[Maestus]

OBJECTIVE: HELL FROZEN OVER
Aerarii Tithe

Closer and closer, the Warlord fought her way towards the central city. Thus far, she had been unopposed by anyone of talent. In her wake, she left a string of bodies.

As she pressed on, her eyes narrowed and scanned the city up ahead. She couldn't make out minute details, but she saw enough. The command center. There, she would find those who would make excellent slaves. Perhaps one may rise to the ranks of the Chosen. Time would tell.

The bitter cold of Csilla was starting to truly affect Maestus. She was a creature of flame, fire and lava. She was strengthened and bolstered in such environments. But this, the cold and ice, was alien to her. It made her slow, dulled some of her senses. She shook her head, trying to lose the feelings. Or rather, bring them back fully.

She flexed her hands as she and 2 units of Chosen trudged through the snow. Again, the resistance they met was fultile. Between her usage of the Dark Side, and the savagery of her Chosen, her enemies were soon dead.

In between fights, Maestus pulled her robes tight around her. Hissing softly as the bitter wind stung her flesh. With every step plunging her feet into the cold wet mush, her body would shiver. She hated this planet, and could not wait for it to be destroyed.

AS she trudged along, she let her mind think of the subject of global annihilation. It was not something to undertake lightly. It carried vast and severe consequences. Snuffing out an entire planet was heavy work. But it also carried rewards. Further establishing the Maw as a very real threat. Not just to backwater planets of no consequence. But to the entire galaxy. With Csilla destroyed, the rest of Chiss Space will soon follow.

And the reach of the Brotherhood will be expanded yet again. They would soon control the Unknown Regions. Or so Maestus wished.

Closer to the command center she led the 2 units of Chosen. She paused, and turned to one unit of 5 marauders.

Scout that building. Number of guards, officers, any visible leadership. Clear and contain.

The unit of 5 nodded in unison, then began jogging towards the command center. Maestus and the other unit of 5 Chosen continued on their way at a walking pace.

The scouting unit made their way up to the command center and began scanning. ​

​

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Objective 3: Kill the Defenders
Allies: BotM and allies
Enemies: Chiss and allies
Tags: Dimitri Voltura
Gear: Sword, Axe, Armor​

Standing atop the crate, Zachariel could feel his target growing ever closer, butchering any who stood in his way. It only further confirmed Zachariel's thoughts that this man was worthy of his attention. And then he simply stopped, not too far from the door, and just out of sight. He found himself sneering at the action. Then the man spoke, hoping to stop him from seeking this fight. It made Zachariel seethe, what cowardly tricks did this man hope to accomplish without even facing him.

Zachariel didn't bother responding, simply watching the door for his opponent. Suddenly he was there, rushing forward while unleashing a Force push against Zachariel. This prompted him to rock back under the sudden assault, and caused the crate he was atop to be pushed against the ones behind it. Rocking back under the attack, Zachariel shifted his stance as Dimitri continued to rush forward. All the man would find is an empty room, aside from the crates and Zachariel himself. There was no trap, no hidden tools or weapons, only the gen'dai warlord in the center, and an empty area to fight.

Growling after Dimtri, Zachariel called out to the man, voice easily amplified by his helmet.
"Welcome warrior. This is the room you'll die in." Spreading his arms wide, both still wielding his weapons, Zachariel laughed. "No traps, tricks, or useless rabble. Only one warrior against another."

Lowering his arms, Zachariel tracked Dimitri to wherever he was. Then, with a loud bellow of rage, Zachariel launched himself towards the man. He sprang forth with the power of his legs and armor, while boosting himself even further with the Force and his jetpack. Zachariel aimed to come down right before or beside Dimitri and immediately lash out with his weapons. All the while his mad war cry echoed.
"Kill, maim, burn!"

 

[Auteme]

Adhira Chandra | Kuric Taumin | Alliance One​

No matter Auteme's reservations on the Chancellor's choice to come to Csilla, she was forever in awe of Adhira's presence. There was a weight to it. Even in a military situation, something she knew little about -- something Auteme knew little about -- the Balmorran's commands flowed easily, her words carried with that powerful baritone she chose when speaking to the Senate.

Admiration. Auteme saw the Chancellor as nigh-indomitable. She lacked the infinite Force power or military prowess oft held by other galactic leaders, but in will she did not falter. When she chose to do something, nothing could stand in her way -- even when the choice might be wrong.

Still, she couldn't blame Chandra. For once, Auteme was more experienced in this arena. That feeling of disconnect, not knowing the cost; for a long time she'd grappled with feeling less involved than others. Indomitable as the Chancellor was, there was still more to learn. Auteme would stand by the woman throughout. The leader of the Alliance may know the weight of her actions, but understanding the place of others, the pieces that held the whole, was invaluable.

As ever, that twinge of worry seeped into her mind as she watched the grand fleets clash above the icy world she'd dreamt of. There was still danger. No matter how powerful an armada they brought, there was still danger.

But they had to face it, didn't they?

"Thank you," she said softly, stepping beside the Chancellor and looking out the command deck's main window. "For listening to me, for... trusting my vision. I know there's so much going on for the Alliance right now, but- we must stop this."

Adhira, presumably, already knew that. Auteme just wasn't sure if she knew the cost it might take to stop it.