Invasion Hope Never Dies | GA Invasion of TSE held Ziost and Tiss'Sharl

[Zirell Marxon]

H O L D _ T H E _ L I N E
[ Theme ]
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Z I R E L L _ M A R X O N​

| Location | New Adasta, Ziost​

| Objective | Kark the Sith​

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Sith always pissed Marxon off, with all their damned Force powers and neverending waves of abominations that they can pull from their rears. The 104th Captain raised his boot and kicked it into the side of a still-smoldering Sithspawn corpse, checking to make doubly sure that the thing was dead; Tough little bastards. After the swarms that had been thrown at them, they may as well use all the corpses as sandbags stacked on one another especially now that they had been fortifying the central district alongside the 7th. The entire situation was just a pain, but Marxon still held firm for the Alliance. Even if the galaxy at large had seemingly turned a blind eye to the Sith Empire's atrocities, he sure as hell wouldn't. ​

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For the sake of all that had been enslaved, for the innocent lives lost and corrupted, for the anguished fallen that had given their lives to fight the lurking shadows, keeping them back. He had a duty to the Alliance, as every other soldier did to uphold peace and order.​

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A squad accompanied Marxon as he hefted his rotary cannon in his hands, the steady sounds of boots on the shattered ground as he patrolled the perimeter. There were rumors that the New Imperial Order was coming to reinforce them from the Helgaardi system, but Marxon didn't cling too expectantly to them. Rumors put false hope or instilled unnecessary fear into people's minds. Until they arrived he would remain skeptical. A skittering of feet was heard around the corner as Marxon turned suddenly, hefting his rotary cannon as the barrels began spinning up, the rest of the squad snapping in the direction of the sound. ​

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From the dust and haze, a small dog came running out, panting heavily as Marxon lowered his weapon, exhaling as the other soldiers in the squad relaxed. One soldier knelt down as the dog ran up to them, setting their rifle on the ground as he began petting the small animal, " Aww it's just a dog, what's your name buddy? " They'd look down at the holocollar as Marxon spoke, " On your feet private, we have a patrol to finish. " The private fumbled with the heavy breathing dog as he read out their name, " Boy's name is Laz, who names their pet La- " ​

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A blaster bolt would fire from the haze as it struck the private in the chest as Marxon snapped back to attention and shouted, " AMBUSH! " The rotary cannon roared to life as a hail of blue blaster bolts were sent to suppress the direction the blaster fire came from, the squad's medic rushing forward as they grabbed the downed soldier and began dragging them backwards to cover. Zirell barked at his men to fall back to better cover as they began a slow backpedal, still unable to get eyes on the hostiles that engaged them.​

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

POST II
THE_CLAYMORE

1ST EXILED-GALIDRAANI DIVISION
2ND GALIDRAANI ARMOURED-VOLUNTEER BRIGADE,"BLUE-HEART BRIGADE"

OBJECTIVE 3: Remnants of Dust

Taskforce LIONHEART: Willan Tal Konrad Bolter Enedina Tal

ALLIES (NIO/GA): Irveric Tavlar Noel Strasza Fisk Kamer
Cotan Sar'andor Captain Raith Suri Vullen Kal Ostan Zirell Marxon

ENEMIES (TSE/CIS): Irina Volkov Valen Taeli Raaf

CALLSIGN: BLUE-HEART ALPHA

Custom Blaster-Pistol | Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore

A BARRAN WASTELAND - Tactician's Playground

'-Stop stop stop, Malcom! Use yer ears, man!'

Grinding the tracks to a loud, gravelly halt, CSM Malcom was slow enough to not let his breaking cause enough gravitational pull drag the ejector (and it's bruised-up passenger) off the glowing engine-cover, though it's advanced-shielding capabilities were fortunately under the LMG-gunner's full-spectrum output control, and rendered harmless just before the new-arrival landed. Barran was very curious as to who would be dropping into this soon-to-become extremely violent corner of New Adasta's barren outskirts, so he listened as well as he could to the interaction up top as the engine quietly rumbled itself to a spluttering stop, not yet aware of the situation that was unfolding as a result of the new arrival's landing.

'Galidraani, right? Glad some of Tavlar's boys could make it.'
Tavlar's boys? Well, I guess we are.... He is our Imperator after all, an' we may yet earn the honour of meeting him today.

The trained force-using warrior talking with Lance-Corporal Innes above the hatch, as amiable as he sounded, was bringing Sith-Imperials (with force-using powers of their own) down upon their eastern horizon, and with more in further waves of enemy dropships inbound. Lord Erskine had learned in his days at Sandhurst that the greatest commanders always ready their armies for enemy reinforcements, even if the enemy one sees is broken and routing, but none around him would know what he had planned, and Brigadier-General Barran was obviously taking the sincerity of his commitment to operational-secrecy to entirely new-plateaus of discretion.

'Open up a hatch and get me in this thing, damn it! If they're dropping troops and Sith, we need to get up to reinforce your forward line as fast as possible!'

The new acquaintance's enemies had been drawn out from the comfort of their own misery, and the slothful stains on their souls were crying out for his blood; yet the Blue-Hearts' newly appointed Brigadier-General would surprise everyone around him with his smirking reaction to seeing the first wave of Sith-Imperial transports, visibly supressing his mirth as the ACV's crew around him were supressing their urge to charge in and throw everything into an easily-countered charge for New Adasta's crumbling walls. Giving his LMG-gunner a booted-punt to the shin, Erskine had opened the hatch behind his long-distance optics to follow up the shin-kick with orders, looking up to exclaim,'Just let 'im in, you said yersel he's got a GA badge oan! An' besides, ah want t'meet this one personally!'

A BARRAN WASTELAND - The View From ACV Two

With the main swarm of surveillance droids being able to light the entire eastern approach, setting the gauntlet ahead in red and purple enemy tags on Gowrie's (and soon Barran's) map-holographics, the oblique first wave would halt and coordinate their plan-of-attack. Opting for the least-expensive approach, the young Captain sent orders back to the Droid-Techs in the second line to have them returned to the last-remaining NIO dropships in the west, but the Lord-Captain hadn't anticipated there would be another Sith-Imperial mobilisation nearby for some time yet; but it happened regardless of the surprise he refused to anticipate too seriously, though Aron still had the good sense to stop and let the first wave decide on the next collective action.

<"Barran to Blue-Heart Bravo! We see the enemy dropships landing roughly a mile east o' your current position, take up defensive-cover for impending attack. We're sending in Rhone's battalion, along with the QM-marksmen - and our Combat-Engineers. We've been showing our new acquaintance the holographics, an' he's proving quite resourceful so far.">

'Gowrie to Blue-Heart Alpha! You really want payback for Bastion, an' it shows.... We'll continue to feign the weak line until the Sith-Imperial's stage their first defensive salvo of the battle. Oblique-order's set for a reason, an' it's no t'give the AT-ATs an' the APCs a chance to look bonnie the-gither!'

<"Preachin' t'the choir, Gowrie. Only reason ah'm bolsterin' this early is to keep these nasty Sith-Imperial force-sensitives from gettin' in the way for too long. Seen their nasty tricks before an' these are risks you would never take had you been there to see even half of it. Trust me on that one, Captain. Blue-Heart Alpha out!">

The Brigadier-General would leave no room for debate on the matter, as the safety of his less-experienced volunteer units mattered greatly for this particular operation, and the learning curve from where they'd learn to become competent was amongst the steepest in the NIO's vast array of mechanised (and infantry-dominant) ground-assault divisions. This, however, would appear counterintuitive on the Lord-Captain's map-holographics at first glance, but there were deceptively-weak placements of support-APCs in the very center of the Tuath's line that Gowrie had, at first glance, missed; but instead of being worried, Barran's new second-in-command could see what his Brigadier-General was attempting, scoffing derisively at his previous oversight as the potential for multiple effective set-pieces began to play out in his mind.
So you've got a few Woad-bams in mah camp, huv ye? Sly auld demon, so ye are.

<"All Galactic-Alliance Jedi within range of Blue-Heart Brigade! This is Brigadier-General Barran; track the Blue-Heart Brigade from our current position, and join your friend in what looks set to become a riot of lightsabres. Any of your faction's ground-assault units sent to liberate the Wolfpack, along with the 7th Mechanised, would benefit greatly from joining our attack also. Rest-assured, your approach is well covered, an' your presence will be welcomed in the general advance. Blue-Heart Alpha out!">

Understanding by then that Barran was on another level, having previously only experienced the presence of Lord Erskine in his element on very-limited occasions, (though enough to gain a slow-building respect for the mind of his new mentor) Gowrie had no choice but to return to his map hologram, understanding that he'd be analysing two different parts of the map to follow the movements of completely differing events. To the west, Erskine would need to follow the progress of Cotan's comrades' race to make it in time to keep their friend alive, with the careful, considered approach of the NIO taskforces following up from behind; to the east, the Lord-Major would need to keep tabs on the enemy-formation in the off-chance thy decided to make the first move.

<"Barran to Blue-Heart Bravo! Local-channels report something quite glorious.... The 501st Legion have landed almost 1.5 kilometers behind our current position, time to shine!">

By that point, Gowrie could guarantee four waves of pure, unfiltered strategic power awaited those of Ziost's,"Defenders", who dared strike out first, but there was still a lull. One such that would prove just as stressful for the Lord-Captain's ACV-crew as it would for the Blue-Heart infantry element moving up to the center and the right of formation; the Brigadier-General's main play would be to bolster the unavoidably-weaker parts of the first-wave's static line, with Captain Rhone's hand-picked platoon of (former) G-Company snipers moving to the center to bolster it instead of an entire company. Either the Blue-Hearts' Lord-Commander was sacrificing the small detachment for some grander second-wave strategy, or the clear road behind them would be used to draw the enemy-center westwards, Lord Aron had no idea, though Gowrie still knew enough to accept the fact he'd have to wait and see which exact action was devised between the GA-passenger and Brigadier-General Barran just minutes before.
​

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[Darth Ahriman]

Objective 3: Liberate New Adasta, ignite the underground.
Inventory: Apparel | Lightsaber.
Support: Sigma-Five Squadron, Specialized Infantry Unit.
Opposition: Cotan Sar'andor , DECEASED Erskine Barran & The Galactic Alliance.

​

Across the frontlines, there was no disguising the madness of war, the courage that it took to run towards the line of fire, hoping not to be hit with a stray bolt en route to the enemy, every step closer to the end of their weapons, every second precious and relying upon the Acolyte's instincts and connection to the Darkside of the Force in order to guide him across the battlefield.

To the rear of the Sith Imperial army, carriers continued to bring down reinforcements, mobilizing its armoured division to counter the heavy presence of the Galactic Alliance and New Imperial Order's own. Beginning their assault of New Adasta, the Sith Imperial AT-AE's slowly pushed forward en route for the frontlines as the smaller Light Repulsortanks moved ahead to support the infantry battalion meeting the enemy head-on.

Heavy turbo-laser fire tore through the sky overhead as Valen moved with Sigma-Five, the Legion seeking to drive the invading army back, to apply constant pressure against their defences long enough for Taeli Raaf to rain fire down from above with her dark ritualistic spellcraft, and the Citizens Army thought to be harmless from behind enemy lines to take up the fight in loyalty to the Sith Empire.

Among the Sith Imperial Forces, Valen's position was easily distinguishable by the crimson blade of his lightsaber, the Sith Acolyte moving on ahead of Sigma-Five while they gave him covering fire, calling upon the Force to empower him as he sought to deflect incoming blaster-fire and cut down those who came within reach of his weapon.

Darkness swelled around him with every sweep of the blade, every life cut short, every soldier felled before him bringing a sense of newfound strength as their life-force was drawn to him, and every time the boy sunk deeper into the Darkside's embrace. Fear, anger and adrenaline drove him forward, in too deep into the field of battle to pull back now lest he lose the momentum and risk being shot down in the absence of focus.

Further ahead, the presence of another Force User was growing ever stronger, Cotan Sar'andor who had been united alongside the Galidraani forces. The moment another capable Force User had been identified, they had become a priority target for the Sith, capable of doing far greater harm against the Sith Imperial Assault. Zeptepi Zambrano had given Valen explicit instruction to eliminate any Jedi or capable Force Users among the enemy ranks, and perhaps it was to her design and that Valen would find himself entrenched in darkness with every fleeting moment, yet he would not disappoint her.

Reaching out with his left hand, he sent a shockwave of kinetic force out against the hostile infantry ahead of his position, Sigma-Five moving to take up positions to light up the troops that had been thrown back, shot dead before they could recover. The power that Valen had released would hopefully be enough to call out the other Force User further on, to give a clear sign that he could sense Cotan, and he was coming for the man. Ever confident, so much so it be to a fault, the young Sith Acolyte eager to prove himself capable among the ranks of the Sith Order.

Spoiler: TL;DR:

• AT-AE's & Light Repulsortanks arriving to reinforce the front-lines of Sith Imperial Forces.
• Valen sensing Cotan Sar'andor 's presence is moving to intercept with Sigma-Five Squad.
• The Acolyte is gradually becoming more corrupted within the Darkside with every kill.

 

[Arctus Silmar]

The Shaper

Location: Sith Blockade -> Alliance One

Detachment: 48 Modified Vindican-Class Transports (2 Squadrons)

Boarding Party: 1,700 Sith Imperial Marines; 200 Omyn Series Battle Droid; 20 Sith Knights

The Iron Crown|| Whilstone of Prowess|| Whilstone of Acuity || Whilstone of Power||
Acharn|| Urfael|| Mithralian || Empyrean Gland
Voice Sample

In the cold blackness of space The Shaper was ever so slightly less assured than he was on the firm surface of a planet. It's grip was merciless, unceasing and unavoidable if one was subjected to it's wrath. Thus being cramped together with marines, droids and other practitioners of the Dark Side on a boarding shuttle hurdling through that infinite blackness beyond his control left The Shaper with naught but contempt for it's ever-looming oppression and the threat it posed. Per his command the Sith Blockade had ravaged the Alliance One and the Prosperity upon their approach, though likely not how their enemies may have suspected. The Paragon of Knowledge had seen to the directing of the blockade's attentions before his departure, and screened by squadrons of fighters enough to overwhelm the Alliance One's comparatively small hangar space, the focus of the blockade centering around punishing volleys of Ion blasts as well as comparative harrying, nipping blasts and shots to more obvious escape pod clusters and the ships' engines.... had left them well and truly open to the boarding action The Shaper had planned.

While, perhaps, his various contemporaries opted for subtler approaches The Shaper's own goals necessitated a bit more.... drastic means of approach. With the modified Vindican-Class Transports retrofitted with piercing, boarding clamps to deposit the aggressing party directly into the innards of the Alliance One once it's shields were brought low, his plans would be set into motion. Closing his eyes and focusing on the Dark Side The Shaper would be the only individual, save those directly around him as he held them telekinetically in place, spared from the abruptly jarring sensation as the boarding vessel slamming into the Alliance One's side. Marines flooding free from the shuttles in organized, tightly packed and highly efficient squadrons as they laid devastating fire upon the defenders.

Meanwhile The Shaper held his piece until the Omyn-class battle droids' eyes sprung to life in blood-red splendor, illuminating further the inside of the transports until the marines had cleared the initial hallway. Stepping down from the boarding vessel The Shaper would motion for the Omyn droids to begin unloading as well, armed with BRX-19 Assault Rifles to compliment their normal armament, the droids began to work on securing a passageway deeper into the vessel as The Shaper turned to the captain in charge of the present detachment of marines. "It is time, you understand your orders?" The captain nodded, saluted, and responded with a professional promptness "Yes Sir, orders copied and understood." The Shaper nodded in vague approval, his senses already sweeping over the interior of the Alliance One before, coiling his strength in the force like bracing to deliver a blow, he would slowly begin to bring his gauntleted fingers together and rend apart the nearby blast doors that had no doubt been shut in an effort to halt their progress.

Without another word spoken to these brave soldiers of the Empire would The Shaper stride through one crumped, twisted metallic frame of a blast door. The marines beginning to advance into the vessel in an effort to secure and occupy any identified escape pod accesses while The Shaper and the Omyn droids proceeded forward into the ship completely. The marines staying closer to the outer edge of the vessels interior while The Shaper and his droids moved into the very bowels of the ship. It was only a bare minute before opposition met him, in the form of the Alliance's own marines. They fought valiantly, though in vain, as the powerful disruptor rifles of the droids proved all too effective while the Shaper spared but one of the offending adversaries, an officer to be exact, for a very specific purpose. Extending a hand from which black mist spilled and roiled, caught in it's own miniature storm, the mist would spill out to the unarmed officer. Snaking, coiling and travelling it's way upward before seeping into the man's very eyes and ears, digging into his mind and causing his eyes to roll back, body to convulse, and choked, incoherent screams to attempt to silently leave his opened lips.

From this man The Shaper demanded several things. His knowledge of the ship's layout first and foremost, a rough estimation of what he knew of the forces currently present and, most importantly of all, the location of any Alliance officials such as Aerarii Tithe or Shoma Ike who were his primary goal in all of this. Once the officer had served his purpose The Shaper withdrew his influence and, the man's body twitching and chest spasming as he clung to life, even as the blood ran from his eyes and veins weakly pulsed a malignant hue of obsidian, did The Shaper drain the life from his still-beating heart and proceed forward. Cloak billowing in his wake as threw his senses toward where he now knew the officials to be. There he sensed a multitude of both Jedi and Imperial Knights. This presented an issue. While he had hoped to catch the Chancellor herself onboard such a vessel, he decided instead that perhaps the loss of the Alliance One was fitting recompense. His new goal, then, would be the ship's bridge. Successful or not, he couldn't help the small, intrigued smile as one of the Sith Knights he had set to rendezvous with the marines telepathically contacted him. "My Lord, we have met the forces you bequeathed upon us, some of their number have fallen but we have been met with success. Does our objective remain unchanged?"

The Shaper smiled to himself, and thought for a brief moment, enjoying the handiwork of the Omyn droids as they mercilessly executed a sobbing Alliance marine before communicating back "They do, actually. While you are still to occupy any and all escape pod clusters you can find, you are to spare any and all senators you apprehend." The Sith was evidently very surprised by this as he questioned "My Lord?" The Shaper let the slight pass, this time, as he answered in a cool, level voice dripping with mirth and perhaps a bit too much surety. "Simple politics. The death of a politician, even one corrupt and rotten to the core, can be twisted into a martyr story to invigorate the Allaince. But capture? The threat of torture and worry of a family separated from a mother or father? Demoralized, scared, much more eager to acquiesce to demands than a provoked, vengeance-fueled family." The Sith seemed to consider this a moment before answering in a neutral tone that told The Shaper he obeyed from obedience than true understanding "As you say My Lord." The Shaper, attention drifting for a brief moment as he crushed a trio of Alliance marines against the bulkhead and listened to their bones crack under the pressure, answered in a tone coated in determination, focus and mirth. "Excellent. Now, if you will excuse me, I have an appointment in the bridge"

Allies: Ingrid L'lerim ; Assorted Sith Boarding Party

Enemies: Aerarii Tithe Marlon Sularen Shoma Ike Kainan Rurik Fel

Primary Interest: Adhira Chandra

 

[Vaylin]

Location: Onboard Alliance One, Ziost Orbit
Allies: TSE
Enemies: GA/NIO - Michael Sardun (Engaging)
Gear: Armour | Dual Blades

Darth Moirai hadn’t been on Ziost when the Galactic Alliance had first attacked. Her focus had been directed elsewhere at the time. Thus she had made adamantly sure she was present when they inevitably attempted another assault. It was the first in a long time that the Zabrak wouldn’t be fighting planetside, opting to hit the Jedi much closer to home, aboard the vessel Alliance One.

She knew of a couple small groups that were intending on infiltrating a different ship, the Prosperity. Moirai held no desire for that, to go for something stealthy, she was going to be loud and angry. At least, as angry as one could be without ever feeling the particular emotion.

Instead, she just remained silent, an inner rage building within as her small Reaver-class boarding pod made its way towards the Alliance One’s hull. Onboard was a small squad, consisting of some Legionnaires and Sith. They were of no concern to Moirai however, simply just bodies to throw at the enemy until she found someone to fight.

The small vessel eventually found purchase in the Alliance ship’s shields, working its stuff to pierce through the shielding and latch itself upon the exterior itself. Moirai could feel the Dark side practically humming, dark energies flowing through her veins.

She barely set foot off the boarding pod when she felt it, an outright beacon of Light from elsewhere in space, but close. If Moirai were one to smile, she’d be practically grinning.

Oh, there was a light she’d love to extinguish.

As the small squad fanned out ahead of her, Moirai remained where she was. Beneath her mask she concentrated, drawing inwards to the Dark and then drew it out agonizingly slow. The source of the beacon was not coming from Alliance One but from Prosperity instead. Part of Moirai wanted to immediately turn around and head there, but it would be pointless. Why not just draw them to her instead?

No doubt the source of the Light would feel her presence, growing increasingly and deliberately pronounced.

Like a festering disease trying to spread out into the Light.

Taunting them.

Come and get it.

 

[Kalie Alverez]

ignore post

 

[Tulan Kor]

STAND STRONG, STAND TOGETHER​

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER STORMTROOPER CORPS
SPECIAL OPERATIONS
DEMON COMPANY
ALLIES: NIO l GA l Irveric Tavlar l Willan Tal l Tiberius l Kal Ostan l Captain Raith l Cotan Sar'andor l DECEASED Erskine Barran
Enemies: TSE l Irina Volkov l @Val
Perspective: Private Lears

Tulan Kor was ahead of me, the man himself. The Reaper incarnate, practically. I was a head taller than him- it required me to look down at him. But none of us dared comment on his height. His command presence alone deterred any jokes- in fact, I wasn't sure if he was able to make a joke anymore. The rumor was that he couldn't smile anymore thanks to Nida Perl scarring his face- we weren't about to ask him to crack a grin for us. In fact, his words thus far had inspired us more than a smile would. His speeches were laconic, or at least- they few things that he said to us. It seemed to cause him pain to move his face a great deal. But he still made it an effort to talk to us, to lead us in all the exercises, even at his rank and position.

He was personally ensuring the development of his Commandos, and would not trust anyone else to oversee them. Short as he was, he might've been ten feet tall. From what I knew about him, from the posters and videos, he was not only wanted by the Alliance... but he used to be under them too. Or imprisoned? The rumor mill was strong around him, and nobody really wanted to bring up his past to him directly.

I sure as hell wasn't going to.

But it did dawn on me that the man reportedly killed an Alliance Senator... and now was coming back to save their hides. Or maybe he was like me- maybe he didn't care who he was under. Maybe he didn't care what flag was painted on his armor. Maybe he just wanted revenge.

But that was just a guess.

He carried a shotgun, going between the platoon, inspecting the men as he went, asking them a few simple questions. He stopped in front of me, cocking his head. He leaned over to me, setting the shotgun he was carrying down and adjusting the webbing of my armor, moving my knife from where it was on my chest.

"Keep your knife low on your body. Easier to get to when you're in a clinch, and less likely to have it blown off or drop it on entry. Learned that one the hard way."

He looked up at me, gave me two sharps on the shoulder, and moved on after adjusting my knife for me.


--

Tulan turned after inspecting his men, locking arms with the Imperator himself. There weren't a lot of men that Tulan genuinely liked, was fond of, or respected. The man who defied the Sith- and was crushing them in nothing but pure hatred for them, earned that respect. The Imperials were on a war path for revenge and nothing else. Tulan had longed for revenge, hungered for it. The Imperator had gathered him on Coruscant, gave him a direction, and told him to kill everything in it.

And the Rangers came with it, and from Dorn came Demon, and from Demon came sacrifice- and now would come victory.

Tulan's face was uncovered by Demon's high-cut helmet or their red-tinted goggles. His face was more marred than the Imperator's, though he was lucky to keep both of his eyes. The Imperator could still display emotion, though Tulan had even a hard time producing more than a smirk, even in his happiest moments.

"There is no situation down here sir. Only an opportunity."

Demon Company- the platoon's worth of them, made up of the survivors and the few Stormtroopers who had recently passed the selection processed, gathered around Tulan and the Imperator. The average Demon Company soldier stood out from the rank and file Stormtroopers- and for good reason. If the Imperator wielded a fist- then Demon Company was the knife to the throat. Their lethality was brought by years of conflict and experience, from their days as Antarian Rangers under the tutelage of Amon Vizsla and Thirdas Heavenshield and Tulan himself- and the sheer canididates they selected.

Oddballs, misfits, brigands, ne'er-do-wells. The misanthropes all had a similar purpose, a similar goal. The flag they served under (and it was no secret this was the case, though Tulan had grown to be loyal to the New Imperials himself) didn't matter. Only gutting the Sith did.

There was no line they wouldn't cross, no path they wouldn't take. They'd fall upon a thousand blades of a Sith to spite one. Tulan was no different. Under his guidance, the Red-Eyed Demons served well, and would continue to serve. Tulan placed the stock of his shotgun against his hip, the sling swinging downwards, lined with spare shells and along the stock of the weapon. The weapon suited Tulan well- the scattergun was brutal, short, and efficient.

Tulan gave the hand signal to begin the push.

Demon Company began to move forward, rifles at the ready. Tulan stopped only for a moment to address the Imperator before he joined his men.

"Thy will be done, sir."

 

[Kaska Arden]

B O T T O MㅤO FㅤT H EㅤD E E PㅤB L U EㅤS E A
S T A T E R O O MㅤR O O MㅤB E S H
P R O S P E R I T Y

Lightsaber | Belmont's Resolve | JSTP Armour
Uproar Blaster | Pamarthen Honor Blade

A L L I E SㅤG Aㅤ/ㅤN I O
Michael Sardun | Dagon Kaze

E N E M I E SㅤT S E
Chasianna

Kaska lingered there for a minute more, letting the silence of their departure wash over her.

Had she made a mistake introducing the two? Dagon had needed strength for what was to come, and there were few that rivalled the bastion of Light that was Michael Sardun, but such power had come at a great cost to the man. Whatever battle Sardun raged beneath that gilded suit of armor he wore now like a second skin, the toll it was taking upon his spirit was becoming more and more apparent with each passing year it seemed.

Though his presence remained stalwart and formidable, untouched by the ravages of time, there was an undeniable strain there that had not been there when she was but a child, bloodstained and so woefully impressionable, following him from one unending battlefield to the next.

And now she feared that was a path she had set Dagon on.

Burn salt.

She closed her eyes and let out a slow, steadying breath. Her mind opening to the endless ocean that was the Force, welcoming the current that pulled her into its fathomless depths. Letting the rush of sensations distract and wash away all the concerns, fatigues and doubt. Beyond the stateroom, the darkness began to ebb and encroach all around them, but for one crystallizing moment she was attuned with the essence of the Light itself. Other Jedi would have perhaps found a sense of peace basking within its presence, yet for Kaska it had only ever yielded a sense of hyperfocused clarity. A guiding hand that would lead her to the heart of the battle where she was needed the most.

She was her master’s student after all, in more ways than either cared to admit.

Her eyes opened as the door hissed, her blade igniting as it found a home in her hand. The light of the sea green blade leading the way as she stepped out and into the midst of the chaos. Her attention pulled elsewhere by a singular shadow that danced amongst the rest. A curious, twisted thing that would have slipped past her attention had she been focused elsewhere. Now the phantom undertow of the ocean within tugged and pulled at her awareness, attempting to pull her inexorably towards it.

And as always, she found herself obliging.

 

[DT-0800]

2nd Galidraani Armoured Volunteer Brigade "Blue Hearts"
Allies: Tulan Kor Cotan Sar'andor Irveric Tavlar Noel Strasza Fisk Kamer DECEASED Erskine Barran Suri Vullen Captain Raith Kal Ostan Zirell Marxon
Enemies/Marked for Termination: Valen Taeli Raaf Laertia Io Irina Volkov
Equipment: REC-RCG-01 Particle Beam Chain Blaster, REC-CBS 01 "DoomBringer" Pattern Combat Scattergun, KXR, SFP 60x Particle Beam Pistol, Storm Armor Mk IV

The first mission for DT-0800 was the recapture of Ziost. While not entirely programmed to assist the Galactic Alliance, as his primary mission parameters regarded on serving the needs of the New Imperial Order. He was told that Ziost was key in further breaking the Sith Lines. What better way to make up for the first defeat of Ziost than to introduce a Force Hunting Terminator to the Sith. Not much had been known about the Paladin Battle Droid, much less one wrapped in living organic tissue. He seemed to blend in with the rest of the Galidraani forces. Outfitted in some armor, and wielding a chain gun-carrying it over his shoulder like it was nothing.

Through the visor he wore, his vision toggled through several modes. As it always did, scanning the data of the muddy terrain, and trying to pinpoint where the enemy would be. But at a short distance couldn't find anything. So the Infiltrator unit kept walking. Along with the men that kept marching with the armored division. He could detect a certain unease among the men. Many of them seemed happy, amused, and yet eager to face down the Sith. For 0800 he didn't care. Or at least was unable to. All that mattered was his primary objective. To terminate Sith and any allies that are with them, and to see that Ziost is taken into GA hands. Even if that meant that he was expendable.

His boots slammed on the mud, as a machine of course he moved with heavy steps. But his creators were careful to add every little detail to make him seem human. That was the idea for his particular model, to blend in with Imperial Forces and when the chance arose. Take out any Force User that posed a threat to the mission. For this one, the Sith was that mission. When Ziost was not captured the first time, that was when he was introduced to Imperial Forces as a sort of radical solution. Rather than fight fire with fire, a more unique approach had to be taken. That was where he came in. Unfortunately, the organic tissue limited what internal weapons could be used, not without the Metal Endoskeleton being exposed. For now, he carried a big gun and wore armor like the rest of the men. To them, he seemed like another muscle-bound soldier eager for a fight.

Many had tried to make casual banter, as was usual for the Galidraani troops, yet he didn't say anything. Yes, he had an understanding and knowledge of basic human behavior, yet he wasn't human. He was still learning for the most part he remained quiet. It even came as offputting to the troops that he didn't fire back with any banter. Yet he kept his eyes forward and kept marching through the thick mud. The sounds of armored divisions filling the uneasy quiet. While the droid scouts were surveying where the enemy would be.

One of his subroutines was possible mission targets that had been a thorn in the side of the Imperials. The ones that been too many troublemakers for the third Imperial Civil War, that he was given a kill list of sorts. Those that had been marked for termination. Yet even if Sith were not apart of that list he would still carry out his primary function regardless. For now, he kept marching. Silent as a ghost. With only a select few within the unit he was with knowing of who and what he was.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

WE RISE
ZIOST ORBIT | ASV UNNAMED
<demons>

​

Bigger ships like this one tended to change the experience of time.

They had no idea how many hours, days, weeks it had been since they’d first stepped aboard another command vessel. Or if they’d even stepped at all. She couldn’t remember what she’d done aboard, but now, she was a shadow in the blinking lights on another wreckage –– catching her breath.

It was like stepping out of history into some small, separate universe. Travelling through the vacuum of space usually always gave her an irrational sense of peace on the brink of wellbeing. No such peace was found today, though. Her, their, mutual heart was thundering in her ribcage, her consciousness and control blinking in and out of existence.

The flashing reappearance of her consciousness between the host and parasite was as flickering as the emergency lighting that lined the halls, bathing the crevices and floors in a sickly ruby glow. The shadows of bodies -– wait, bodies? –– lined the floorway in her wake.

Although there was no longer anyone around to monitor it, the surveillance system of the Alliance ship did an excellent job recording the carnage. The screens, now playing to a retinue of downed naval officers in the main surveillance suite, showed the collision of monster and personnel.

Drawing in her presence, relative to everything else on the ship, she didn’t recognize her own signature. Nor could she feel any sort of life-breath from the strewn crew members. Realization gripped her in flashes of carnage, brutal recklessness and wan destruction from disoriented charges, slashes and claws. Screams and growls drowned out, leaving them only with a vacant, sucked-out silence that went on and on.

Silence because of them.

Horrified, she dropped to her knees, stretching a trembling hand out to touch the chest of one of the fallen crew. There was no soft rise and fall because there was no breath. The void in the shape of a person confirmed her suspicions. She’d felt nothing because they were nothing –– snuffed out from imprinting The Force with their existence. Reduced to a limp, grey outline. Their face stared back at her, unseeing, upturned, vacant eyes with sagging lips hanging open in an endless, voiceless scream.

It was as if the ship’s klaxons bellowed out on behalf of the fallen crew. Some were still alive, clustered in the command centre –– reinforcing the blaster doors and trying to find a route out that they could safely take to the escape pods. If that wasn’t an option, they’d continue to wait for their distress call to be answered.

Residue from her inky coating was slowly coming back to her body, creeping down the corridor, trickling through the holes in the durasteel, and rolling over the slumped personnel to coalesce around her feet and up her legs again. A true wonder of alien chemistry.
As it gathered, it spoke. Not with words, but with a feeling of reassurance and persuasion, tightening the gripping influence it had over the fallen Jedi’s mind. They couldn’t feel guilt for this, it was an excellent display of potential. For what they would be able to continue to do together, once refined. Thongs were still rough and uncalibrated, a struggle for dominance that the creature was winning by stamina alone.

The mental murmuring continued as it poured over the woman’s body, tenderly renewing the bits of flesh that had been torn apart by blasters and other means of self-defence from the surprised crew she’d slaughtered. It was a hypnotic sort of whispering that lulled her into a false sense of reality. Within minutes, the guilt she’d felt was replaced with sickly pride.

​

ALLIES | TSE |
ENEMIES | GA | NJO | NIO | Elpsis Kerrigan

 

[Areyon]

A R E Y O N
Lightsaber | Armor
Open To Opposition​

The Imperial Knights of the New Imperial Order had been called to action by the Galactic Alliance. The light needed assistance, so Iron answered the call.

Areyon stood amongst the other Knights who had responded to the call for help. They were just a couple of Knights but a force to be reckoned with to be sure. Areyon for the fourth time had split himself away from the Omega Guard, as he did not see their practicality in an operation such as the one on Ziost. He felt a gradual rift start to grow between him and his men. For that he apologized, but he was the most senior Knight. He was the most experienced, so he would be the one to represent the New Imperial Order.

Their shuttle hit the landing dock and they mustered towards the airlock. The knight Kainan spoke up towards the front of the group, speaking of their objective.​

"We must ensure the Alliance Officials still live."

The Alliance Officials. The situation reminded him of Brosi. Areyon held the hilt of his lightsaber pike firmly. With a quick press of the switch, the white blade illuminated the surrounding area. As the airlock opened, the Knights stepped into the fray of battle.

Ziost would be one hell of a battle.​

Allies | NIO | NJO | Kainan | Rurik Fel | Fisk Kamer | Close Proximity
Enemies | TSE

 

[Mazrim Caide/Taim]

Tags: Kole Eckttor
"Hey, you! Get out of here before I put a blaster hole through your shoulder. I don't want trouble but I'm willing to kill yah if I have to."

Caide tenses. How the hell had someone gotten the drop on him? He had been in so many battlefields, he practically had eyes in the back of his head, he could sense danger as well as any force user. What was stranger, he wasn't already dead, which told Caide he wasn't dealing with some trigger happy GA jackboot. slowly lowering his blaster to the ground, he palms the small blade he kept in his bracer and puts his hands up, turning slowly and coming face to face with...a civilian? Caide's one eye widens in slight surprise. This was no soldier or citizen volunteer, and by the looks of things he had shipwrecked here, smack in the middle of the GA and Sith crossfire. Keeping his voice as non threatening as possible, Caide addresses the civvy.

"Lets not do anything hasty. My name is Mazrim Caide, I'm a sith legionnaire. You are not supposed to be here." Caide thinks for a second. There was a scrap yard for trashed ships that made landfall about 3 clicks west. It was in the direct opposite direction of where he was ordered to be, but it was also near a GA surface to space battlement that had been giving the starfighter corps trouble and keeping ground forces pinned without air support...He could probably get away with it. "Listen, your ship is damaged right? There's a war salvage about 3 clicks west. we can probably get you what you need there and grav trolley it back here, but we'll have to work together, its in a warzone. Or you can take your chances dodging blaster fire from two nations that couldn't care less about you. What do you say?"

 

[Rurik Fel]

M A N _ O F _ I R O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LORD EXECUTOR
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
PRESERVATION OF ORDER
Iron Skin | Lightsaber

HAND OF DOOM
​

Once more into the fire. The nigh ritual began. Bastion, Generis both left more and more scars until the horridly mortal form of Rurik Fel. Weathered and beaten from the toil, he equipped himself in the iron skin once more. The armor shaped to him shifting him from Rurik Fel, bare and vulnerable. To the Lord Executor. The protector of the realm...the vanquishing of the darkness.

Equipped within the iron skin he made his way through the corridors of the NIV Antares Draco, one of the ships of command to the First Crusade Fleet of the New Imperial Knights. Flanking him, two helmeted knights of the armor donning their argent heavy metal. Their means to the Alliance One was swift. The compliment? Only a few of these knights of the realm. That was all that was needed, even as Arctus Silmar and his horde beared down unto the Alliance vessel, it took few valiant souls to hold down the starship.

"Trust it to a Republic that their rulers can not defend themselves. Regardless, this is an ample opportunity, my knights. In seeking the leadership of the Galactic Alliance, the heads of the hydra will come to seek their glory. And here...we will lop them off." Rurik suggests and soon enough the airlock door opened and he was on the Alliance One. The bright, clinical white halls a stark contrast to the Imperial metal in its cold flouresence that greeted them prior.

"Kainan. You and I will make way for the bridge. Certainly, this is where their leaders dwell...and in that, so too will the Sith come. Areyon, hold sentry by the escape pods, with all certainty, the Sith will smell the blood in the water...and you will make the Alliance One their final rest. Onward. For the Empire." Rurik commanded and soon with his foreboding pace he made his way down the corridor ahead of him. Sith marines and battle droids were quick to bear down on the New Imperial entry. A wall of crimson tibanna bolt surged to Rurik and a swipe of his argent blade to life went through the methodical pace of deflecting each of them before he skewered them along his silver saber.

Lifting his left wrist he patched his commo through to Aerarii Tithe .

"Vice Chancellor..." He spoke, his voice immediately recognizable. The Lord Executor.

"Relay your position to me and my knights." He all but commanded.

Many Sith came aboard the Alliance One.

None of them would leave.

ALLIES | NIO | GA | Aerarii Tithe | Kainan | Areyon | Fisk Kamer
ENEMIES | TSE | Arctus Silmar | Ingrid L'lerim

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

​

Allies: DECEASED Erskine Barran Irveric Tavlar Tulan Kor
Enemies: Valen

​

Thankfully they didn't make him wait long to get the hatch open, the commanding voice of the one in charge ringing out loud and clear, as one of the most stereotypically Galidraani voices Cotan had ever heard. He handed his sword down in first, before dropping into the somewhat-cramped confines of the ACV as soon as it was out of the way. "You want to meet me?" he said, turning over to the one who at least looked the most in charge. "Well, here I am. Grand Marshal Cotan Sar'andor, at your service. Fancy some tea in the warzone, or are you the type to bring some whiskey in? Either way, I'd appreciate a drink."

He was only slightly sarcastic.

Glancing back out the forward viewports, he frowned, seeing what the younger Sith he'd witnessed was doing, alongside the entire unit they'd dropped with. "I hate to start issuing commands to a unit I'm not in charge of, but I'd appreciate if you could get me up there specifically," he said, pointing directly at the one he'd spotted. "It'll be the fastest way for both of us to help out your men, and judging by what's going on, he's already making his way to us. I think he saw my expert flying there."

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

ZIOST ORBIT | ASV UNNAMED
Equipment: Armour, Rifle, Grenades, Sidearm, Sabre, Ion Paddle Beamer, Cryo-Ban Gun.
Loske Treicolt

Elpsis was not on Alliance One - or indeed on any Alliance ship. Indeed, she was quite far away from the lead Alliance vessel, and aboard the Firemane Corvette Emberdawn. Her present location was its armoury. It had not been long since Bastion. She could have taken it easy. She could have convalesced a lot longer. She probably should have. Duty ended in death.

Cuirass.
"You ever been to Ziost?"
"No. Word is some of my ancestors wound up here after we kicked the Rakata off Korriban," Nyssa responded. The Pureblood was kitted out in heavy armour, with a lightsabre at her side and a shotgun slung over her shoulder.
Greaves.
"Any plans for tracking down the lost Vykarises?"
Gauntlets.
The Pureblood snorted. "If they weren't eaten by Vitiate, they must have fallen into degeneracy with all the Jedi and false Sith despoiling the planet."
"Viti-who?" Elpsis strapped her utility belt to her armour and attached her lightsabre.
"Vitiate," Nyssa corrected with some annoyance. "Ancient Sith emperor. Body-hopper. Megalomaniacal idiot. Don't they give you an education at Fire Academy?"
"Wouldn't know. I just teach the Paddies how to shoot things and not die. And teach them about Sith who aren't ashes." She holstered a sidearm.

"Good thing you didn't say you teach how not to get maimed. Because you'd be a terrible role model."
"I remember you death charging a chainsaw blade walker," Elpsis remarked.
"Very different situation," Nyssa grunted. Then after a moment, she added, "You up for this? No bullshit."
"Yes. Got cleared, remember?"
"By doctors who aren't at all following imperatives from self-important pen-pushers who think having a Kerrigan in the field looks good?"
"I'm here to do my job, and I can do it." She would have said more but then a voice droned through the comm. "Lieutenant, approaching target area."

"Acknowledged." She turned to Nyssa. "Duty calls."
"Yes." However, before Elpsis could slip on her helmet, the Pureblood had crossed the distance, grabbed her head and pinned her against the wall. In a fluid motion, she pressed her mouth against hers. For a moment, thoughts of the battle around her faded as their lips met in a searing kiss. Nyssa threaded her fingers through her red hair. The moment was over far too soon. "Come on, Red. Let's go kill some things."
Wordlessly, Elpsis put her helmet on. Her features vanished behind solid metal. The helmet was completely enclosed, lacking a visor or HUD because she had no use for those anyway.

There was no time to waste, so they hastened to the Emberdawn's hangar. The Champions of the Flame were all assembled - fully kitted out and eager with anticipation. Diona, Rhea, Shikoba, Zhaleh, Sergeant Vagt Bwi'kat, Tahoka and the others. The Bothan Sergeant saluted her. He was armed with a imposing looking boltgun. "Squad's ready, ma'am. The Captain says he's gotten us as close as he can. We're cleared for boarding. Space is a mess. Best get moving."

"Thanks, Sergeant. Alright, girls. You know the drill. GA ship's been boarded by unknown Sith hostiles. Our job's to track down survivors, get them out, kill whoever attacked them. But our first priority's recovery."
"If there's anyone still alive there," Nuroch, a Nautolan, muttered.
"Then we settle for slaying their killers and find some Sith elsewhere to kill. Killing Sith is duty," Rhea retorted firmly.
"Exactly, let's move. And if whatever's inside is too big for us we blow up the ship. Tahoka, you're piloting," Elpsis ordered the Togruta member of the squad because that was one thing the Fire Mistress definitely could not do safely.

As the shuttle left the hangar bay, the soldiers took up position. Elpsis went around sure, making sure everyone was properly kitted out and ready. This was clearly the moment for an inspiring speech. She was no wordsmith. She preferred things to the point. "When we land...watch your six, be aware of your surroundings, don't charge off and get yourself killed."

"The transmission indicates we may be dealing with Sithspawn of some sort. Don't take them lightly. Many have strange traits. Huge poisoned claws, a skeleton that can tank a lightsabre. Some can even use your Force. Keep your distance. Hit them with massed firepower," Vagt advised. "Some are infectious."
"In some cases, chopping an infected limb off works. Firemane can always make new ones. Better that than a savage." Nyssa added grimly. "Never turn your back to one till you're certain it's dead."
"I've encountered monstrosities before. Fire and high explosives are useful. Gas, too. Especially if it works on skin contact." Diona spoke quietly, but firmly, speaking more for the benefit of the acolytes in the group.
"Understood. I won't let you down," Zhaleh, a young Qadiri, spoke up. She was the ice girl of the group. "I can slow and immobilise with my Zari. May Kashara light our path."

Elpsis went to the cockpit. "Any response from the GA?" she asked Tahoka.
The Togruta shook her head. "Hailed them. Nadda."
"Try again."
"ASV Profundity, this Firemane task force. We're inbound to assist. Do you copy?" There was static.
"Frak it, we're landing anyway. Bring us in," Elpsis grunted.

The shuttle shuddered as it shot through the darkness of the void. Space was filled with a multitude of warships, exchanging brilliant flashes of laser beams and missiles. Elpsis held on as the ship rocked when it was hit by streaks of laser fire, but the shields held. It was not being directly targeted. There were more tempting and important targets.

Before them lay their destination. Suddenly Shikoba had appeared besides her. "It reeks of death. The dying cry out. Embers of life still persist...for now. They sing a song of woe," she remarked in that somewhat eerie yet melodic voice of hers. The Vashyada had a strange connection to the dead and the spirits Elpsis did not entirely understand. But she had learned to use it.
"Can you trace them?" she asked.
"I can follow the song, if my head is clear."
"Alright, you'll be the guide then."

The hangar bay was deathly silent when the shuttle landed. Quickly the squad fanned out. Under Vagt's direction they set up position, weapons trained on the entrance and providing mutual cover. However, there was no resistance. The place stank of death, for the bay was littered with bodies. The walls had been scorched with blasterfire.

"No slug holes. No burn marks either," Zhaleh remarked when she examined a corpse. "Look at these marks. This is the work of beasts." Indeed, the soldier looked like he had been ripped apart. "Smart ones," she added as she surveyed the carnage.
"Hey, Ghosttalker, fancy having a chat with the corpse?" Nyssa suggested nonchalantly.
Shikoba stepped forward and bent down. The Alliance soldier's helmet had been ripped off and his eyes had been gourged. "His spirit left the body recently. I may be able to glean something."
Elpsis nodded. "Go for it."

The Vashyada muttered an incantation in her native tongue. Her words were powerful and eldritch. Her eyes flared, burning as bright as blue stars. With her hand pressed against the man's forehead, she chanted. "I summon thee. Tell me who did you wrong." Nothing happened. Then there was a chill in the air. A light gave up the ghost. "Tell me who did you wrong." Nothing. Then the corpse grabbed her hand. Zhaleh trained her pistol on it, but the Vashyada looked untroubled. A shade had manifested next to the body. It was invisible for all save for Shikoba. Elpsis could not see it, only sense a presence.

The spectre looked confused. "Who...what...no, not here again...not again..."
"We haven't much time," Shikoba cut him off. "You are dead. Your friends are dead. Nothing can change that. But death is not the end. And some of your comrades are still trapped."
"So dark...hard to remember. Moved too fast for us. Monster..."
"Focus. How many?"
"One. One monster. Tore through us. Blood everywhere. Got one shot off. Gods, the screams...and that face..."
"Show me." And so he did. All the others would see was Shikoba's body trembling. When Elpsis looked at her through the Force, she saw a face that was partly normal and partly resembled a skull stripped of flesh. Shikoba spoke haltingly, like in a dream. "Screams. Shadows devour them. One abomination strikes. Body of a demon, face of a woman." Shikoba shook her head, pulling herself out of her trance. Her features looked normal. The shade had dissipated. "Smaller creatures follow in its wake."
"No time to waste then. Sienn, slice the door. See if you can get some schematics, too," Elpsis ordered grimly.
"On it, ma'am," the Twi'lek replied and quickly set to work. While her comrades covered her, Sienn sliced into a terminal near a blast door.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Kisaku Oroken Auteme Okkeus Dainlei Asmundr Varobalder

Alina Tremiru Darth Strosius Saket Keane​

He always did dread the waiting. The anticipation of the next battle. As soon as the fighting started it was always so simple for him to fall into a rhythm. Trust in the Force to see him through to the next day. But this would be his first time dealing with such a prolonged siege. He knew he should not exhaust himself. As small as the New Jedi Order was, they served better as handling delicate operations in strike teams or as force multipliers attached for squads. Intellectually he knew that a Jedi was an invaluable asset on the battlefield and was wasted in a prolonged fight.

But that did not still his heart. He wished to be out there, saving as many lives as he could. But he knew that he needed to wait for the right opening. The proper moment to strike. And he needed to be there for his friends were still recovering. Meditation could only do so much to still him. He did his best work while active, while moving. While working towards a goal of some kind.

So instead of sitting there and ruminating over the mysteries of the universe and the Cosmic Force. He was on patrol through the ship. Attempting to burn off some of the restless energy that threatened to overwhelm him.

He was almost glad when he heard Auteme's mental call. Relieved when he heard the warning sirens sound. Internal barriers lowering in response to her presence, allowing his mind to brush against her own. Solid, dependable, a bastion of focus to help better aim her relentless optimism and light.

He did not respond in words. Merely short empathic bursts to save time. Acknowledgement, understanding, the intent to join up with her. And a wave of reassurance flowing from him to her in order to quell any anxiety she was feeling.

He had promised he would be there for her next time. He was going to hold himself to that promise.

Hand firmly on the hilt of his blade. Aaran's previous march exploded into a run as he began to race through the corridors of Prosperity. Feet pumping furiously, the Force lending him the speed to surpass human limitations as he moved in a blur down the halls. Unknowingly putting him on a intercept course with some of the intruders as he made his way to regroup with his comrades.

 

[Leon Gallo]

Two weeks. Two weeks he'd spent in a bacta tank, while battle raged around him. So many had fought, bled, and died while he floated about in the tube. For hours, he'd just closed his eyes and felt the calming tingling of the warm fluid on his skin. The strange, uncomfortable feeling of his bones and muscles mending. The embarrassment whenever someone walked past or checked on him. That unplaceable dread he’d felt since the crash. But he was only awake for a few moments on the first day, and a few hours on the last.


Sleep was far worse than consciousness. Leon’s sleep was rarely free of nightmares even on Coruscant. Here, each dream was its own hell. Memories of his childhood of servitude and abuse, where the kick of a master’s boot felt more real than it had years ago. Laying on the reddened sand of Korriban, every muscle on fire as his lungs and heart slowed to a halt and the Jedi he’d been tasked with protecting fell. The strange Sith, appearing as a Demon in the storm. Brentaal.

The nightmares on Brentaal were the worst. The monsters, the screams. X-wings and transports in flames, a city twisted. The fury and agony of the spirits there, his slip into their midst. The vision he’d seen while his mind drowned. He could still feel the dead, screaming for someone to guide them to vengeance.



But that was then. The Jedi was declared recovered enough to fight. The Alliance was trapped, fighting to survive. Nothing and no one could be kept back at this point. Every ship, every blaster, and every soldier had to join the fray. And so, Leon found himself climbing into an X-wing.


{Saber Seven, you are clear for launch}


The Saber-Class lifted itself from the floor, hovering for a moment, with only the quiet whine of its engines to show it was under its own power. Then it boosted away, rocketing out of the hangar. It had taken only a moment for its Jedi pilot to get fully used to the ship’s controls. Nearly identical to the one he’d crashed two and a half weeks prior, Leon had only wished for time to paint it, to make it as much his own as his old X-wing.


The pilot kept his ship’s S-foils folded and stealth systems on. At its top speed, the craft shot towards the battle. Another squadron was nearby. Leon knew he'd need a wingman, or at least some other fighters nearby. Phantom Squadron, he'd heard. Opening his comms, he fell in.


{Phantom Leader, this is Saber Seven. Mind a Jedi tagging along?}


Siloh Riain Len Vert

 

[Seela Leini]

Location: Space - Ziost System
Call Sign: Dancer Ten
Allies: TSE
Enemies: GA (Siloh Riain Len Vert Leon Gallo Teica Giraan ) │ NIO ( Scourge Harz Hiram Voss )
Theme: Just Call My Name

Nothing came easier to her than flying, but in the context of a long, grueling war that would ultimately determine the fate of her Eternal Father’s empire, SV-2121 could feel the strain on her body. While it had been this way for her entire life, since she emerged from her exowomb and was sent off to training, now more than ever, she was beginning to truly realize that few things lasted forever. Death and rebirth were cycles of life, and within the short span of her existence, she had seen more of the former than the latter. She had known since the beginning that starfighter pilots rarely lived to old age, but hearing the last screams of her peers as they were made one with the void carried with it a weight that was not easily shed. Ever since Generis, her nights had been filled with prayer and restless sleep. The devastation wrought on Dancer squadron, by the New Imperial pilot who she knew only as “Howlrunner” (Tantalus), had broken her peace beyond repair. Her only relief came in the form of her Father’s paternal and ever present voice, soothing her even as crippling anguish wracked her emotions.

However, in spite of the undeniable, mortal threat posed by the barbarians at the gates, the strand-cast embraced the opportunity to fight them. She intended to put everything of herself into killing the enemy, unburdened by idle anguish or distraction, instead immersing herself into the flow that all skilled pilots fell into as they performed their craft.

The Twi’lek fell into that condition immediately as she climbed into the cabin of her interceptor, an advanced variant of the Tuk’ata class with overtuned engines and dancer-like maneuverability. She had trained in the craft heavily over the course of the past few days, finding it a welcome distraction from the dreary emotions that beset her outside of the cockpit. Having already acclimated herself with the Neurocrown, the rush of data that entered her awareness as she connected to the machine came with a distinct bliss. She immediately powered on the engines, moving through the practiced ritual of pre-flight checks before giving the signal that she was ready to launch into the void.

Moments later, she was off.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Tuk’ata-class Sith-Imperial Hyper Interceptor
  • Cargo and Pilot Gear
    • Sith-Imperial Armada Flight Suit Mk. II
    • “Judicator” Adaptive Battle Rifle
  • Universal Hypervelocity Mass Driver Missile / Warhead Launcher (2)
    • Diamond Boron Missile
    • Brilliant Missile

 

[Maple Harte]

Wearing: Shroud of Madness

Armed with: Survivor's Staff

Shadow Proclamation

Bolt Action Rifle (308. Caliber, Scoped)

With: Laertia Io (Laertia's Equipment: Ursula's Robes, Crime Hunter's Pistol (Sonic Disruptor Configuration), SynthBreaker , Nuetralizer Model 1(1500) )

Came to Ziost in: The Scarlet Phantom


24 hours earlier, aboard The Absolution of Loste...

She didn't recognize her except for her face as she sat across from her in Laertia's personal quarters, eating a steak. Laertia was eating Pig Liver and Onions.

"I should have treated you better..." Laertia said out of the blue, face no longer as pale as it used to be due to genetic mutations from her Force Bond with Syd.

"I should have visited you. But...I didn't know how to confront Kar Shian." Maple said, uneasy at the new Laertia, and her mutated bronze and green organic eye that reminded her of Sith Eye Corruption, and the Durasteel Murder Skeletons Laertia called her Nuetralizers.

"You were in as much pain as I was. There's nothing to apologize for..." Laertia assured her, well aware of her Schizophrenia, and how it was rapidly worsening. The truth was that Maple and Laertia were two people who, without the proper equipment, were medically unfit for battle.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Io...but it seems like you were hurt a little more. Building walking Death Machines like the Nuetralizers I see around your ship is a new one for you. Never thought I'd see you start popping Jedi like there's no tomorrow."

"Never thought I'd see The Jedi Order ignore an obvious and much more immediate threat in favor of continuing their unwinnable feud. They left me no choice. Unless they can be bloodied enough to momentarily cease their efforts, or can be forced to the Negotiating Table, they will continue to waste Resources and Soldiers pointlessly, while the Bryn'adul are allowed time to shore up their defenses. I do only what I must."

"Killing Jedi is a hell of 'Must', Laertia."

"It is not my fault they continue to choose falling on their sword instead of the logical, rational choice. They will turn the whole Galaxy into Nar Kreeta if they are not eradicated or otherwise damaged beyond economic and military recovery."

"Is this really how you want to be remembered?" Maple questioned.

"No. But if it stops the Bryn'adul, I'll accept whatever the judgement of Posterity ends up being."

"Even if it means bringing your Lover down with you?" Maples wondered, growing horrified but hiding it.

"I begged Syd to abandon me to save her own reputation. She refused." Laertia answered stoically, eating another bite of Pig Liver.

"I'll be executed for certain if cornered. I managed to convince Syd to stay out of the nastier stuff since Dantooine. She might still have a chance. With someone."

Maple's head hung lower. "And now you want me to join you in damnation."

"I want you to help me save the Galaxy from the Bryn'adul...even if it means going through a couple hundred Jedi and Stormtroopers. They're hypocrites. They refuse to join hands with the Sith to win, yet have no problem siding with a government equally as militant and Anti-Democratic. I have no patience for their Doublespeak. Or their need to feel good about themselves."

Maple leaned a bit into the table.

"What if you're wrong? What if the fear has gone to your head, Laertia? What if all this, the constant opposition to the Jedi, the willingness to kill them, what if all that is just fear blinding you to the truth, that there really is no need to fight the order, that maybe you should just deal with the Sith first?"

"I know you, Uri. If you believed that, you would have refused to meet me. Or that baby Twenty-Two hidden up your right sleeve would have slipped out and you would have put two shots in my head."

Maple was silent for a moment before taking another bite.

"It's bad enough I killed one Jedi in a panic on Korriban."

"Fanatics like them would kill you, Nine, my Sisters if they knew what they actually were, and then destroy the Knights Obsidian--which contains Light Adepts--without hesitation. Helping me helps you. Helps the CIS in the long run. You don't want the NIO on your doorstep. They cult worship Irveric Tavlar. The damn GA thinks that just because they don't call themselves Sith they don't have to think about the Partnership too hard..."

"Alright..." Maple replied warily. "You've convinced me...guess I had to choose what side my bread was buttered on at some point, huh?"

"I empathize, believe me..." Laertia replied glumly.

Maple switched topics. Skip. The Super Insects conqured the NIO and destroyed the Mandalorians. Skip. Back to reality.

"So...of the two of us...who gets to kill The Amalgam when all is said and done with the Bryn and the NIO?"

Laertia paused.

"It should be me..." Laertia said in a small voice. "But if you get her first, I'll accept that. She...she would want death to come from you, I imagine. She loves you the most."

Maple didn't contest this assertion, only taking the last remaining bite of her steak.

"When do we deploy?" Maple asked.

"Soon." Laertia answered. "The Siege of New Ardasta is heating up."

Maple sighed, drinking her water.

"NIO can go feth themselves..." Maple thought after a moment. "I ain't living under their fething Iron Sun."

"There's a good girl." Laertia remarked.

Present...

Maple piloted the controls of The Scarlet Phantom to the Sith's side of the Space Battle in orbit taking place. She had taken off her biker gear and attached a specially grown Ooglith Masquer by her Sensei Nine Lives to her body, which covered everything, even her hair. It was dark with pulsing, crimson veins criss-crossing everywhere like a web. She had been warned about the dangers of wearing it, but considering the danger she was currently in, it was entirely warranted.

Laertia's typical Black Armor had been too damaged from a previous fight with the Battlemaster Khefiir and couldn't be repaired in time. Other armors were too impractical for the Situation at hand. She was instead wearing, of all things, 'Ursula's' robes.

"How are your Sons reaching the battle?" Maple asked, distinctly creeped out by this reminder of The Amalgam's presence.

"Orbital Drop Pods and Gunboats..." Laertia answered, pointing to objects in the heat of re-entry outside a viewport...

"Right on time..." The Black Knight of Nar Kreeta remarked as they themselves entered the Atmosphere.

Maple stiffened, feeling a familiar, evil presence on the surface and steeled herself as they landed near a Sith Defensive Position close to the temple Taeli Raaf was conducting her ritual,

Maple got out her Bolt Action Rifle as she stepped off the vessel before Laertia did.

Maple grimaced under the Masquer as she spotted The Amalgam , hands folded behind her back with a pleasant smile, flanked by Sith Troops. Nuetralizers were already disembarking off CIS Gunboats

"Daughters!" The SithSpawn gushed as it strode up to them. "So glad you could make it! There's so much to do here! Murder, Torture, Unholy Rituals. I dunno about 'you' two, but 'I' was going to start by shooting a few puppies for kicks--"

"Is there a point to you being here?" Maple growled, fist clenching in anger.

"Ohhh, don't be like that, Uri! Its been absolute ages since we killed together as a family! Love your suit, by the way." The Amalgam replied without missing a beat, throwing her arm around her former students shoulder, The Darth Phyre hiding inside her intrigued at being in such close proximity to Uri again. She was so full of untapped magical potential. She could be made into a great Sith Witch when the time was right. But not yet...

The Amalgam next noticed Laertia and slinked over to her, The Phyre within staring in delight without The Amalgam being aware.

"And Laertia! You're wearing my birthday present. May I ask the occasion?"

"My armor was busted..." Laertia answered brusquely, walking past her to a landing Gunboat that deployed her silver, skeleton-sons built and bred for total war.

The Nuetralizers marched out armed with Droid Assassin Rifles or T-007 Ion Disruptors.

"Shall we Dance?" One of them asked as they got off the Gunboat. None of them would be accompanying The Amalgam. Each were to be sent to their own squads to conduct Special Operations against the NIO in the Siege. This would quickly come back to haunt her later.

"Go forth and kill any who oppose you. If they surrender, shoot 'em anyway."

The Amalgam turned back to Maple. "Heading over to Feth the NIO up?"

"That was the plan. Same with you?" Maple asked, scorn on her face.

"Obviously. Got something nasty worked up. Need to slaughter a few squads first for it to work...care to join?" The Amalgam asked in a perky manner.

"Feth off..." Maple said, heading off with Laertia...

Currently...

They had been making good time into the city. Maple had already shot a few of the enemy, while Laertia covered her by deflecting blaster bolts back at opponents, feeling a strange relief that her schizophrenia was held at bay. (But she was starting to hear whispers. They belonged to the Masquer.) before the ship crashed and cut off their route.

As they went around ruin looking for another route, Maple stiffened at the same time Laertia did, pointing her scoped bolt action ahead of her, she sighted Fisk Kamer and his new ally.

Maple didn't have to think about it. She took aim and fired right at his chest, while Laertia pulled out her pistol, reconfigured as a Sonic Disruptor, and fired at the Other's head...

 

[Rika Hiro]

L A D Y_S I L E N C E
C O M P N O R
Tags: Shamira Karuto Cara Dorniarn

Music


New Adasta, once a proud city built upon the labour of Ziosts best and brightest, wrought in ruin by the Imperator's armies who's guiding hands wrapped around the neck of the dying Sith empire like Ouroboros made manifest. Ever-increasingly tight with the passing weeks and months as legions marched under the iron sun and brought doom upon the scions of the Zambrano dynasty. Asa was a servant of the new order and diligently executed it's divine will, imparting swift judgement upon those who stood against the order or refused to see the light of their errors. It mattered not what they did; she was merely the executor and enforcer of the Imperial will who sent them to meet their maker.



Finding herself among the throngs of the citizenry on New Adasta, she made for a relatively inconspicuous face in the masses of the urban jungle as she moved through the cities long, winding streets. As the fighting grew louder and began to shook nearby buildings with the repercussions of distant artillery, she soon found herself a lonely figure who walked the rubble-strewn streets. Her shadow cast forlornly against the backdrop of destruction and ruins that became more common. She walked at a brisk but casual pace, arms in her coat pockets and lifeless eyes shielded by her opaque shades. To some, she looked like an Atrisian office jockey seemingly lost; to others less fortunate, her appearance had come to symbolise death.



It seemed even the Imperial army had come to regard her kind as boogeymen that haunted the shadows and every corner of the order. And in some part, it was true; COMPNOR had eyes everywhere. The clandestine blacklist project known merely to Imperial command's higher-ups as project ERIS had given birth to a generation of soulless synthetic men and women in black who haunted both Imperials and Siths dreams. Ruthless, efficient, apathetic and loyal to a fault. They personified the faceless terror and ever-shifting ambitions of COMPNOR.


Something buried deep and repressed beneath her programming told the HRD that she'd be here for more than just a simple murder op of a minor Sith commander.

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