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

[Dagon Kaze]

THE PROSPERITY
NEW JEDI ORDER
TO ENGAGE: OPEN
THE GREAT MISCONCEPTIONS OF ME

Growling orders, hurried boots and a wailing siren echoed throughout the Prosperity. It seemed all too surreal to the Jedi. This was their home - a place of peace and tranquility. The home they all returned to once back from the death-stricken frontlines and the horrors of the war. The hearth in which to wash their minds and cleanse their souls from the anguish and sorrow. Here where he had dreamt to make a difference in the galaxy...only for the galaxy to change him. He felt his hand clench tightly over the hilt of his lightsaber. Emotions emerging in his conscious reinforced, rather than tempered, by Sardun's Light...and something else-

You disgrace our name.

Dagon snapped to a halt, squeezing his eyes shut chasing away the haunting words of his brother. The twins' bond resurfacing after their standoff weeks ago on the surface of Ziost; a tether in a perpetual conflict between Dagon's sanctity and Aeric's corruption. He breathed out deeply and recalibrated. The oath to the Light is paramount above all. He clung to the empyrean but did not relinquish the tight grip of his lightsaber. The flashing images in his mind of the tranquil halls of the Prosperity, of Ryv's vow to the galaxy, of the serene nights of bonding on Manaan, of his lost brother sending him to his death, of Kaska pulling him out of the grave - they only strengthened it.

He rushed forward to face the nemesis of life, zeal burning in his eyes.

ALLIES: GA | NIO | Kaska Arden | Michael Sardun
ENEMY: TSE | OPEN

 

[Maijan Paisea]

TASK FORCE XESH

ABOVE ZIOST | PEACEMAKER
STRANGE IS BETTER

​

Emotions were nothing more than little hums within The Force’s song. Their notes were drowned out by the necessity to construct the false images to help falsify what the Alliance’s fleet looked like.

Images that’s necessity faded away with the arrival of their allies, but a helpful distraction to disorient and intimidate The Sith Fleet that threatened to end them all. And if not intimidating, at least draw focus temporarily around from the wounded metal skeleton of The Peacemaker.

It was all she could do; and the very real smells of smoke, charred metal and ash reminded her how sinister this was. While Maijan was an expendable asset in the eyes of The Intelligence Agency, The Alliance apparently put more stock in their citizens. Preserving the lives of their naval officers.

"No, I've never,"
"Thank you..Thank You..."

“They’re not real.” Maijan reminded the woman, keeping her tone eerily smooth. The frigates, fighters, everything she’d made had only been for a holding pattern until the Imperial’s arrival. Or some other sort of relief for their very strained circumstances. “Once they’re fired on, I can try and make it look like the hit was absorbed by shields, but I can’t affect the enemy’s radars.”

"Oh, uh, Six years,"
"Wait..who are you?"

She smiled coyly, realizing how long it had been until anyone really asked who she was. Usually, she was invisible, and otherwise, people didn’t care. But to be appreciated was nice.

“My name’s Maijan. Don’t need to worrrrry about how I got herrre –– the Agency has its wayze.” She gave a small shrug. “But they care enough to trry and give you all another chance to surrvive. I’m usually a last-measures kinda agent. Desperate times and stuff.”

Ripples rolled from the corporeal starfighters deployed by both Alliance and Imperials alike, and Maijan adjusted some of the shadings on her illusions to represent the deployments.

ALLIES | GA | NIO | Teica Giraan (Interacting) | Hiram Voss | Siloh Riain | Leon Gallo
ENEMIES | TSE | Seela Leini

 

[Gir Quee]

Location: Tritones II-class Heavy Cruiser Paladin's Commitment, nearing Zoist
Allies: Siloh Riain, Len Vert, Leon Gallo , Teica Giraan , Des Harz, Hiram Voss , Jyoti Nooran
Enemies: Seela Leini

"...and the port stabilizer just went off."

"Oh, fething fantastic," shouted Sariya, a crooked smile creasing her alabaster face.

Gir ripped his gaze briefly from his flashing console as klaxons continued to sound throughout the bridge, "You know that's really not good. Turning is going to be not so great now. We do actually need that, you know."

His bodyguard just shrugged, which Gir took to mean that she'd stop commenting. Normally, he enjoyed her banter, even in mildly stressing situations. But not now. Not as the wrath of thousands of souls was unleashed upon his vessel and its smaller escorts. A bright cyan icon labelled Lantillian Courage suddenly began to flash angry shades of red. He silently swore as he fumbled with his com.

"Tyron, get your ship under the Commitment, now. I know the Courage can't take that sort of heat."

A brief delay occurred before a strained voice eked through the com, "I will do what I can, but we're having some engine difficulty right now."

Gir swept his eyes through the amphitheatre-like bridge of the Commitment. Cacophony filled the air as alarms rang out on consoles and bridge officers directed hundreds of crewmen in their department even as they monitored electronic systems and interpreted incoming tactical reports that were arriving at least a dozen a minute. With a brief and sharp shout, he caught the eye of lanky Commenorian in the weapon's department.

"Gils, I need the Courage tractored and dragged behind us, before it's space dust."

"Aye sir."

He brought his mike down to his mouth once more, "Look Tyron, we're going to tractor you to help out a bit. Try to work with us."

"Will do sir."

He shut the comm channel down and took a moment to observe a holo depicting his small and increasingly ragged squadron of ships trying to run through the gauntlet of Sith Empire warships that had coalesced around the once Imperial throneworld. The organic shape of the Commitment took up much of the space, its soft-hued hull lighting up in bursts of angry reds and orange as enemy fire hammered away at sections of its sturdy defenses. Layered shielding and thick hull plating has prevented catastrophic damage to his flagship for the time being, but the man knew that even the Commitment couldn't expect to survive the sustained attack of several Sith Empire star destroyers. Half a dozen smaller ships, corvettes and frigates, flitted around the Commitment as they tried to evade the enemy's fire. The Stellar Cutlass, a speedy light corvette zipped ahead of the rest of the squadron, finally entering the relative safety of the Galactic Alliance fleet. Even as a faint sense of relief entered his mind at seeing the corvette's reprieve, a brilliant explosion lit up in the rear of the Silver Jedi-Directorate task force as the stricken Lantillian Courage succumbed to one last turbolaser salvo. A expanding ball of incandescent gas erupted and threw out an expanding cloud of molten durasteel. His heart sank some as he quietly flipped the comlink. Should we have come at all?

"Master Jedi Nooran, we have arrived at Ziost."

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

POST III
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 Tulan Kor Noel Strasza Fisk Kamer DT-0800
Cotan Sar'andor Captain Raith Suri Vullen Kal Ostan Zirell Marxon

ENEMIES (TSE/CIS): Irina Volkov Valen Taeli Raaf The Amalgam Laertia Io
Maple Harte

CALLSIGN: BLUE-HEART ALPHA

Custom Blaster-Pistol | Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore

A BARRAN WASTELAND - The Grand-Marshall I

'You want to meet me?'

After the new-arrival had dropped down through the LMG-hatch, Barran stood to be identified as the vehicle, and as the one responsible for each and every one of the Blue-Heart Brigade's actions going forward. The joyriding-pilot appeared to correctly assume that Erskine would carry the most seniority, so the Galactic-Alliance's asset approached the Brigadier-General with his unexpectedly-Woadish reply,'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.'
With an attitude like that, your time wae the Blue-Hearts is going to be an absolute breeze, mate. Thank kark for that, honestly.

'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,', Cotan said, pointing to a Sith-Imperial contingent's force-using commander that Erskine had been watching for a minute or so already, though he hadn't known it would be an actual Sith in the distance until the chance glimpse of a light-sabre's pommel crossed the Brigadier-General's gaze. Clicking his fingers for the LMG-Gunner to return to his post, and slapping CSM Malcom on the shoulder to get moving again, Barran started looking for his hip-flask as the Grand Marshall concluded his request,'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.'

Allowing himself a polite chuckle with the others, Barran (near-ceremoniously) handed his hipflask over before replying,'That's the Cladhan 814 cask, and I'm Brigadier-General Erskine Barran; realistically at yours, wouldn't you say? Regardless, a genuine pleasure t'meet you, sir.', as he momentarily joined Sar'andor in gazing through the opened forward-viewports at the trained coordinator they were expecting to face off against. The armoured division to their frontal-east had been feigning advances for a little while, almost goading the Blue-Hearts into taking the Sith-Imperials' favoured method-specific initiative, though seemingly appearing indecisive with the amount of sub-contingents' overkill they wanted to commit with; but Erskine knew better, as he had already surmised that the Sith-Imperials were assuming their bait just a little too imposing with every feigned advance, thus chopping their advances down from full-division to regimental advances at several points along Gowrie's line.

'Aye.... Been watching them for a while, sir. They're not as slick as they think they are, though. Been watching them scurry hither an' yon since you landed up-top, watched them assume control of the enemy tank-contingents an' feign advances since.', the Blue-Hearts' Lord-Commander continued, turning away from their view of the enemy to the east and drawing the Grand Marshall's attention to Barran's map projections, along with all the colour-coded blips moving around on it. Sitting on a stool at the far side of the holographics, and offering Cotan the seat at the nearest side to the driver, Erskine scratched his beard for a moment before revealing,'Which has given me a means to improve on a very, very old implementation of improvised-strategy. Perhaps you, at first glance, can guess what it is that I am attempting to improve on?', as he accepted back his hipflask with a cursory, thankful nod.

'I've been a busy old Bluenose since we saw your ship crashing, sir.', the Lord-Major resumed after taking a swig for himself, starting whilst putting the hipflask back in his jacket's inner-left pocket. Picking up the ACV's comm-device, the Brigadier-General had only just seen scribbled graffiti on the slide-door, reading as,"Lightning ain't chit on Generis! - Jax Sloane 864ABY", a sight that left Erskine chortling and shaking his head with jesting-disapproval for a moment. As he dragged his eyes away from the distraction of his friend's handiwork, Barran returned his gaze to Sar'andor and concluded,'Right, so we have the right support-units inbound, and we're following to provide the extra-punch; though you'll understand why I've ordered them to move double-time into their designated rally-points, eh? Also, seeing your lightsaber kinda confirmed the sort of drama that we were expecting to land in the east, so I must admit that I've put out a looped comm-relay to all the GA units in the area. Your sabre-wielding frie- wait.... is that a - vibrosword, sir? Yaldy!'
​

​

 

[Brama Tagge]

ALLIANCE COMMAND
PROSPERITY || BETWEEN TISS'SHARL AND ZIOST
SAVE A PRAYER

​

“Aggression was never my forte, but I am more than capable of keeping my clothes free of any sort of stains or tears. Even from those who throw destructive tantrums at tea parties.”

A small, amused smile graced the elder’s mouth. Whenever he chose to speak, The Senator of Empress Teta did so with such poetic references.

So much so, that the idea of him being capable was almost laughable, but she supposed if he were to draw a blade there’d be some sort of untouchable elegance to the movement. Her approach to combat was far cruder.

“I..believe you.”

“We should keep an escape route in mind. -but I’d be a terrible host if I don’t make sure our guests behave and not cause too much of a racket.”

“I can go make sure the evacuation for the others in this ship are going ahead smoothly.”

“I’ll be sure to be wary of my frowns if I require use of them.”

Her brows rose, shocked such a passing comment would have a lasting impact on their relationship. A sparkle of delight glimmered in her good eye, and she chuckled deeply.

“Something tells me the Jedi of the New Order aren’t likely to evacuate. It might be just you and I that are perceivable deadweights to our spiritual company. We best stay together for now.”

"It seems that my role has changed senators"
"Now, I am sure that you are quite capable of defending yourselves against normal assaliants, but we might be facing Sith soon and we need to consider an escape plan"

“Oh,” Brama blinked once in surprise at the sudden apparition that appeared before them in corporeal form. “Hello.”

Dash, on the other hand, yawped in shock. Both hounds at her side tensed, rising from their seated positions and waiting for a command to attack.

“Sith. Aboard a Jedi transport.” She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in irritation at the connection. It seemed so obvious now. The transport had been one of the only available, other than Alliance One, but with their dire situation of being outgunned, they’d decided to split up the Alliance’s leaders on two separate ships. “I suppose we should have anticipated that.

An escape would have to carry us beyond these walls. Do we know what ships are around us that are hostile? If we deploy in escape pods they might snipe us up in tractor beams. What's going on out there?

What are the Jedi doing?”

“I can't tell?" Dash chimed, not sure if he was being helpful or not -- but the sound of his own voice was reassuring. “Somethings happening. The Jedi are moving around quite a lot.”

"Well I'd hope so, given we're on a glorified spiritual ferry."

---

ALLIES | GA | NJO | NIO | Seto du Couteau | Vexander Graves | Aaran Tafo | Asmundr Varobalder | Auteme | Kisaku Oroken | Okkeus Dainlei | Dagon Kaze | Kaska Arden | Michael Sardun

ENEMIES | TSE | Alina Tremiru | Darth Strosius | Chasianna | Saket Keane

 

[Master Zoryu]

Protector of Purity
THE NEW JEDI ORDER | DEFEND NEW ADASTA

​

The wizened Jedi Master stood on the crest of one of the ruined walls, gazing inward at the city of New Adasta. The Alliance forces were hard at work fortifying the places they had only, just weeks ago, penetrated, claiming the majority of the city as their foothold on Ziost. Many of the Alliance troops had fallen behind the walls to prepare for what would likely be an oncoming siege from the Sith. Yet, even as he looked out over the city streets he could sense a grave danger within. His bright blue eyes scanned the crowds of Ziost citizens queuing up for rations as they too prepared to be locked down in the safety of the central towers and fortresses. Many of the Sith "faithful" that supposedly lay within the darkened city were just plain citizens, like any citizen of the Alliance, living in circumstances they could not escape.​

Yes even among the downtrodden of the Sith citizenry lay a happy few that willingly endured the oppressive might of their dark overlords. The Jedi had received intelligence about these individuals. He suspected some advanced form of thought manipulation might be at play, but given that most of the offenders had yet to reveal themselves, he could probe no further. Still, it did not hurt to prepare. "Master Tekka," he said into the com link on his arm, "I sense a disturbance in the Force. There is something wrong among the population... I have been unable to pinpoint it, but I will continue searching. I advise you do the same."​

Zark San Tekka was the other Jedi Master that had been helping prepare New Adasta for the Sith attack.​

​

As he disconnected from the conversation, a roar rippled through the sky above them. The troops and citizens looked first, but Zoryu reached out in the Force and felt the evil that was brewing before finally turning to face its dark reality. Somewhere in the distance, beyond the city walls, darkness was gathering - literally - as black clouds seemed to be pulling toward a central force. "What evil is this?" he wondered aloud as his vision attempted to pierce the shadow that seemed to pervade everything on Ziost. His sight was obscured, but not so terribly that he did not see the coming storm.​

He could see a dark presence - a woman - enveloped in gloom and, like a mighty star in an eclipse, a power burned within that penumbra. Zoryu had never encountered Taeli Raaf on the battlefield, but he had heard fearsome tales of the Lady of Secrets. "Zark, things just became more complicated," he said again into the comlink. At the foot of the stairs leading to the parapet, a snow-white obrak whistled its approval as he gazed down at it. A ziost native missing its master and badly abused, Zoryu had come across the creature following the sacking of New Adasta and had used him frequently to traverse the lower levels of the city. "I have to take care of something beyond the city, it should not take long," and with that, he hoisted his light staff and threw himself into the saddle on the beast's back.​

He clenched his ankles together and the animal obliged, gracefully clearing the battlements and debris at the foot of the wall to allow Zoryu to travel out in the direction of the dark side ritual.​

ALLIES | NJO | GA | Zark San Tekka
ENEMIES | TSE | THE DARKSIDE | Taeli Raaf ​

​

 

[Zahara Myneto]

​

Alliance One // Tiss'sharl System // Alliance Formation Attending Executive War Council - Coordinating Fleet Combat​

----
​

"Kark" With a flick of his wrist, the datapad he held was slung into the prisntine white walls of the dreadnought, the screen shattering and splintering shards of glasteel onto the floor. Almost as quickly as he had completed his fit of anger, a mouse droid rushed to clean the broken glass, and with a slight nod, the Admiral went about his way.

As he entered the chambers reserved for the High Command of the Galactic Alliance, hewas immediately given another datapad, one he treated with much more respect than the last. With a courtesy nod to the other Admiral's in the room, he took his seat at the table.

"Ensign, what does it look like out there" He grabbed the arm of the young woman tightly as though to pull her back into reality as her mind slowly submitted the near total chaos which surrounded them. "In all honesty"

"Honestly" She paused to consider her words carefully. "Like shit"

Adhira Chandra | Marlon Sularen | Tithe | Others

 

[Darth Daiara]

Ziost Academy | The Aftermath.
Zaavik Perl | closed

The Jedi had come with purging fire.

Why?


They spoke of hate. And murder. And evil. They accused her of these things as they-- . . .

She wondered if they ever bothered to look in the mirror.


She hated them.


A noise caught in her chest as she fell to her knees, the battle scarred remains of the Academy gates in pieces around her. Dust coated the crumbled space in a thick layer, turning the once vibrant place into a wash of melancholy gray. She swallowed against her dry tongue and took in a shaky breath. There were no sparks of life within the abandoned structure.

Jedi were heartless creatures.

Her fingers coiled into the debris around her. Her vision blurred. The space became assaulted with the sudden noises of a pained animal, rickashaying off the structure in a chilling echo.

It took her a moment to recognize the noise came from her. It took another breath for her to feel the dirt press against her face. Her grief overruled her, breaking her down and curling her up.

Why did she care?

What did she expect?

Twenty-four lives had been saved that day because of her treason, and it still didn't feel like enough.


She wasn't enough.

 

[Djorn Bline]

P U N I S H E D _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ZIOST | NEW ADASTA
TASK FORCE IMPERATOR | BATTLEGROUP ‘SNAKE’
ARMOR | PRIMARY | SECONDARY | MELEE | GRENADES

SPILL THE BLOOD​

So that was it? All their efforts in vain? All of it mattered little in the end? It sure as hell hurt a lot, especially with what transpired above the initial battle of Ziost. He cared little for whatever happened to Alliance soldiers that died and hurt in the eternal tundras of Ziost, painting a new coat of color on this ancient Sith world. All he could he think about was what happened in that interrogation room with that Sith and her.

“Loske.”

It should’ve been him, and he wished it was him instead of her. How did everything turn around against him when he was in control? He could speculate all he wanted, create different kinds of theories that were plausible but what did it matter? It ended into the same result, the same present he was living in. His arm disintegrated from his body, but more importantly losing Loske. The loss of his arm mattered little, it didn’t hold the same value as his friend corrupted by whatever Sith magic enchanted upon her. Gone and turned into some kind of beast from what he could remember.

It certainly didn’t help when he learned the Alliance unable to secure victory on Ziost. The battle titled in their favor, but the casualties the Alliance suffered meant they could not remain too long in the system.

Too long he suffered from the Sith, only to lose something more from them.

Pain he felt, but it was a reminder of what he had lost. A catalyst to spark inexorable vengeance that would motivate him.

And it would be pointless to leave Ziost with a hapless Starbird freezing in the snow. What did he owe them? Nothing, nor did they to him. However, he’d owe it to Loske. The only thing he could do to release some of the guilt he blamed himself on. That, and it would help to distract him from thinking about those events. Dodging blaster fire sure helped along with adrenaline commanding his flow in battle. Fight or flight with hardly any other thoughts to think of.

A place where men came to kill and die was where he felt the most alive in. Ironic. A time of peace would just bore him, the spirit of a warrior within refused to slumber again. Once awoken it would never sleep again. In time he became a man that was exceptionally good at one thing.

Killing.

And there was plenty to kill, enough to make the tundras bright with red and bring out a red dawn weeping over the horizon.

Good.

The Imperial operative was here before the rest of his comrades from the Iron Sun, after being dominant over their approach on Helgard. Enough men to reinforce the Alliance defending their positions in Ziost’s capital and buy them time to cover their retreat. As the Boss would lead the task force as the spear, Snake would be its dagger. Guerrilla tactics and unconventional methods in harassing the Sith-Imperials, preferring to prey upon small units of infantry and not waste time against larger companies of Legionnaires. As for the rules of engagements?

None.

Even if there were any established, he’d fight this battle on his own terms. Any grounds of moral superiority meant nothing to him. All he wanted was the Sith to bleed for this planet that was a holy shrine to their Order.

A holy shrine for them? Then he would desecrate it with extreme prejudice. Take from them just as they stole from him; and make them suffer just as the sorrows that haunted him.

ALLIES | NIO | GA | Irveric Tavlar | Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Asa Yubari | Captain Raith | Tulan Kor | Tiberius
ENEMIES | TSE | OPEN

 

[Viers Connory]

//: 'Partner - in - Crime' //: Marcis Sorr //:
//: Allies //: GA & Friends //:
//: Alliance One //:
//: M R _ B L U E _ S K Y //:

​

Alliance One was a pretty massive ship for the most part, but Viers was trying to remember how she even arrived on the ship. The last thing she really remembered was boarding the ship with some of the Enclave Jedi and Decoy getting distracted. Not wanting to leave the monkey droid, she chased him around the ship. “Decoy, where are you?” Viers paused in the middle of one of the hallways looking in a circle, trying to catch a glimpse of the monkey. ​

In the distance, a flick of a metal tail catching a bit of light reflected and caught the padawan’s attention. Running towards the source, Viers ignored the rest of what was happening, remaining unaware of the issues that were now befalling the Alliance One. The monkey scratched at a door and continued to rub almost frantically. It spoke in a series of squeaks and bleeps, only stopping when Viers came upon it. Looking down, the droid looked back up and pointed at the door. “Inside?” Viers examined the door; it was different from the other doors she had noticed. ​

Fingers ran down the ornate door, feeling the curves of the carved embroidery. “Oh, there’s got to be a bit of treasure behind here, Decoy.” A grin spread across the padawan’s face. As much as she followed the light, Viers consistently fell victim to her own desire for treasure. ​

A hand pressed against the door’s control panel, she could feel the inner workings of the device, and as she focused, the panel soon beeped. The pleasant trill alerted the Corellian that she had succeeded in her hacking. “Oh ho.” Viers’ eyes lit up, and small heart emotes shined on the visor of the monkey droid. Everything was GOLD, and even with the littlest bit of light - the gold illuminated the room. Stepping in, Viers and Decoy began to take in the entirety of the room. The walls were decorated with images of large, powerful men and women. On the right side, a large portrait of a man who was of the Sith Species. Though, at times when Viers would look away - it would shift into the face of a pale man with straw-colored hair. ( Avernus ). The picture was lined with gold and had the symbols of the Avernus coin. Beside it was another picture of a man who looked like the green dough man from a childhood holotoon. On his face was a gas mask of sorts and in his hands was a cup of what Viers could only assume was caf. Underneath it, in thick gold letters, it read ‘THE Gat Tambor .’ ​

“Based.” Viers expressed under her breath as she fingered the gold letters and started to pull them off the wall. It didn’t take long to strip the names off the wall, and she was off to lift something else from the room. ​

Spinning on her heel, she tripped over a lever. It clicked, and the center of the room opened up, and a sizeable heart-shaped bed spun and came into view. “What?” As the bed settled into place, a large strobe light ball dropped from the ceiling, and the padawan was suddenly aware of the bright pink and orange shag carpet. ​

“Uh, Decoy? I don’t think we’re on the Alliance One anymore…” Viers gulped loudly as she continued to explore the room of Aerarii Tithe .​

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Captain Save a Corellian //: Jyoti Nooran //:
//: Enemies //: TSE //:

The time after the original invasion of Ziost was not the best for Allyson Locke. Her memory hazy and her wounds deadly; she could only remember the sight of the demon that she had fought and the back of Ripley’s head. There was hope though, Ripley seemed to have been able to get the necessary information - the mission was complete. Seeing that the Zeltron never returned for her only meant that she had taken her words to heart. While Allyson was proud of her fellow Agent, a part of her was hurt. After hearing her tale, so many people tried to reassure her that her thought process was wrong. Yet, here she was in a destroyed building nursing a wound that slowly bled her dry. ​

​

“LC, I think that wound might be infected.” A small voice echoed from the corner of the abandoned building. A man far younger than Allyson, still wearing the Alliance trooper armor, came closer, holding out a first aid kit. She looked at him with her uncovered eye and smiled faintly, “Probably, but I’ve seen worse, and the kits should be used on the civies we’ve recovered.” Her voice strained, but she did her best to hide any weakness. Gunner, as Allyson had heard the man be called, frowned at the Agent. “LC, come on.” Allyson’s right hand waved, and she continued to object. “Focus on the civilians, the kids, and stuff. You know how this poodoo works, Gunner.” His head hung slightly, “I know, I know.” He turned on his heel and moved towards the makeshift cots that filled the bottom floor. Other troops were stationed around protecting the bunker from any Sith Imperials that came across it. ​

​

They had been holding out for the past few weeks - a lifetime from how Allyson felt. The rumor was that the Alliance was returning, but her faith continued to falter with the government. Looking at her right hand, she saw the faint green light pulse under her skin. She had sent a beacon to the one person she could trust - the last person she could trust. With whatever happened to Loske, there weren’t many people the Spy had left. ​

​

“Kark, I should have hung it up when you told me to,” Allyson spoke aloud to no one in particular - well, no one that was actually there to hear it. Exhaling softly, she once more pinged Starlight to connect to Jyoti Nooran. Of course, she couldn’t help but include in the original small holovid something about how Jyoti was her only hope. A chuckle and Allyson leaned her head back and let the spinning of her prolonged concussion take hold.​

 

[Saket Keane]

/The Pillar Men/
Tags: Alina Tremiru | Darth Strosius | Auteme | Kisaku Oroken | Okkeus Dainlei | Aaran Tafo | Brama Tagge ​

Objective 2 // Post 2
​

And off they went--the trio of Sith through a door and the multiplying Sotezi Rathtars down the halls. Saket was unable to get too good a glimpse of the lanky-limbed flesh balls as they tumbled over themselves in mitotic confusion, the fascinating view swiftly replaced with-- ah, so Repel: Scum Remover was still available in Alliance space. His world was surrounded by a myriad of cleaning products--but of course this would be of little surprise, the Alliance seeming keen on keeping their appearance of purity. Even their armor was white which, thought Saket, may have been a tad demoralizing to troops of the Galactic Alliance that they went about looking so grungy all the time. Perhaps--

He winced as Alina's heel struck his toes, the closet proving a cramped waiting room for the three. "Ack! Your foot-- off mine." He'd begun a defiant pull before Alina crept out of the closet, all the effort he'd built to yank his boot free throwing itself into full reverse as soon as she stepped off. Muscles torqued his hip too fast and his leg swept back slamming into a hoard of brooms. One by one they dominoed backward and clattered against the thin shelves then back onto Saket. A metallic CLONK sounded and he clutched his helmet, shaking his head as the ringing died down. Opening his eyes he was prepared to whisper "sorry" but paused. Snow? Snow fell from his helmet with each bob of his head, the white powder beneath his feet giving an uncomfortable crunch. A metal canister clinked as it was batted between their crowded feet, Saket noting the label to read a familiar brand: Dirt Bane.

".. Alright. Let's go."

"...glahdly." He responded while digging fistfuls of cleaner from out of his collar. Gaze hung low Saket checked the corridor to their left, spotting nothing but hearing the echoed gurgles of Rathtars devouring a meal and the squelches of their division. He turned to join the others.

"West seems CLE--!"

SQUEAK thunk thump.

Blue beads of OrbiClean had littered the floor. Saket let out a rasp and a curse as he pulled himself up onto an elbow, hefting his weight over onto his palms as he drew his knees under him. "Don't-- No help, am fine." Hoarse, his voice was barely audible over the vocoder.

It was then he heard the thuds of footsteps echoing down another corridor. Only Rathtar were to the left, and Alisteri and Alina were still standing nearby.

"Chit."

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

T H E _ W O L F
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
104th MARINE BATTALION 'WOLFPACK'
Armor [ 104th Skin ] | Concord Brawn | Lightsaber

THE MAN COMES AROUND​

Back in this hell again. Ziost. He'd had a faint respite since the Starbird first bared its talons into the broken surface of this desolate Sith world. Able to reclaim the voided limb in a metal miasma. The process of applying synthflesh over the mechanics was too time consuming and the Galactic Alliance Defense Force's medical corps opted to skip over it in favor of getting Treicolt back unto the field of battle. So too were the rest of his wounds, the flesh shredded by shrapnel and marred by tibanna only haphazardly healed. They were all due to scar over gruesomely over time. Just fortunate enough to be breathing, to be upright. And just unfortunate enough to be returned to this awful rock.

Holding New Adasta was all but cooking the Galactic Marines alive in this black cauldron. These conditions weren't viable for much longer. They needed the breakthrough, the relief to sever the tether of Sith control over this space and break out of the looming encirclement. Fortunately, the New Imps did their job well enough. Just had to finish the fight.

He walked down the corridor of the makeshift command center with an empty metallic echo accompanying each footfall. He was donned in the rainment of the Wolf again, the argent and grey armor smeared with urban dust and ash, dimming the brightness of the armor a significant amount, just short of ideal for blending into the surrounding urban waste.

Flanking his approach, the Wolfpack battle scarred and weather beaten all the same reloaded and refitted their kits to make way, offering a nod of acknowledgement and respect the way of the General. He'd redeemed himself several times over since Yinchorr. Before then, he was far over his head in his position and since? He was one of the best in the Alliance ranks. Ever the reliable. In spite of what the New Jedi Order sought to impose on him, or the reticule on his head for making war on an enemy most evil. If the Wolfpack was there, so was he. And that reliable element of leadership quickly endeared him to the marines in the fray.

<"Treicolt."> The voice of Amon Vizsla one of the first things to greet the General.

<"They've begun the evacuation...and the Sith are triggering their resistance cells to accompany their assault."> The Mandalorian remarked to Maynard who offered a nod in acknowledgement.

<"Copy. Take 1st and 4th company, open the corridor to the space port. We're getting off this rock."> Maynard commanded before he made off into a different direction.

<"The 7th have Adasta locked the hell down but...I'll take the rest and hold the Sith up long enough to get our side of things sorted sorted. Prioritize our wounded over anything else. Hell, you know what to do."> He remarked, peering up to the ashen skies. So too were the Sith vessels battling in orbit with New Imperial star destroyers. Familiar 'allies'. Didn't matter. If they wanted to kill Sith, more power to them. At the very least, he knew damn well they were good at that. Serving alongside them on Muunilinst, Dubrillion, Bastion.

<"Noted. Not gonna waste any time then, bring back a Sith scalp for me.">

<"I'm sure you'll do just fine getting one yourself, Vizsla , time to hunt."> Maynard commanded before he made way to the swoop bike set aside for him, centered within a formation of a few more. He boarded the vehicle wearily. After all, last he rode one it turned to scrap in his hands and left him in smoldering suffering.

<"How ya feelin'?"> Came the inquiry from the way of the Corellian Colter Darik. Maynard offered a glance in his direction with a tilt of his head. Physically, he felt as alive and able as he ever could. Mentally...there was a rotting cyst that continued to thrum away at his subconsciousness. All of Maynard's retinue knew damn well of that. The question didn't come from happenstance courtesy, it came from genuine concern.

There was a crippling void at the bottom of his heart. Deep down, he wanted to strip away all this obligation...find her again. But these were the moments of true perserverance. When a man had to step up in spite, in defiance of what ailed his mind and do what must be done.

<"Feelin' good enough to kill every damn Sith I see today, Captain, yourself?">

<"Just about the same...let's hunt.">

<"Let's hunt."> Soon the repulsorlift of the swoop bike roared to life and they were on the move. The first stop came the way of Zirell Marxon and his unit under immediate ambush. The snipers set up by the 7th did enough work in snuffing out the first shock of the strike but the fast attack unit under Treicolt's immediate command would do the work of the full relief. Good enough for the civilian infantry baring down over them, but not the armor the Sith Empire managed into the streets of New Adasta.

Ideally, the Blue Hearts that patched through at the onset of the assault would do the work in knocking them out.

ALLIES | GA | NIO | Zirell Marxon | Cotan Sar'andor | Captain Raith | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Willan Tal
ENEMIES | TSE | Valen | Irina Volkov | OPEN FOR SCRAP

 

[The Amalgam]

Wearing: Resistance Epidermis

Armed with: Skin Shears (Purple Split Saber)

Bolt Action Rifle (308. Caliber, Scoped)

Objective: Have a run in with DT-0800

Accompanied by: The Cult of The Brain Demon

007 hours earlier...

The Darth Phyre hidden inside The Amalgam (Who resembled Syd Celsius ) had temporarily emerged from the Subverted Force Witch within the confines of her hidden Pyramid stronghold on Kar Shian and took the chance to explore The Amalgam's ship with her own eyes.

This Amalgam Persona now worried Phyre after having siezed control of its body a few years back. Even as scraps tied to her puppet strings it was still almost overwhelming her. There had already been moments when the Phyre hiding inside The Amalgam had begun to think she was actually The Amalgam herself.

A hidden fear hit Phyre suddenly as she went through The Amalgam's space yacht, clad in her host's flesh colored combat suit.

Had The Amalgam lost to her on purpose? What if the absorption process had not been as thorough as Phyre-Prime had believed?

She knew The Amalgam had been a strong one. That's why when this copy of Phyre had been forcibly implanted in her mind, it had made sure to devour as much as possible, for there were a hideously powerful number of evil minds inside of it that had boosted its power as each were consumed. Leejun's soul had been the last to go into an eternal state of digestion, leaving just enough for Phyre to wear as camouflage. Or so it had thought.

Phyre debated destroying this Persona utterly but there was the price of sacrificing all the minds it had absorbed, drastically decreasing Phyre's power. She was stronger now than she was in The Gulag Plague. No way she could lose that. And it would ruin her grand strategy. Plus, the Force Bond she now had to Uri Udinia as a result of possessing this body would make it easier to corrupt her fully.

No...she was still in control. She would proceed as planned.

Phyre wandered into The Amalgam's Quarters, photos of Laertia Io , Maple Harte , Syd Celsius , Starlin Rand plastered everywhere. But given The Amalgam's obsession was Maple/Uri, it was Maple's photos that dominated the walls, floor, and ceiling. The Amalgam was an excellent intel gatherer if nothing else.

Phyre's eye fell on one particular photo of Laertia, captured at range. She walked up to it. The Amalgam was almost as obsessed with Laertia as she was with Uri.

Phyre's hands ran over the photo. Oh, it wasn't yet time...

As her hands ran over the photo, she noticed an indentation that should not have been there.

Perturbed, Phyre pulled away the photo, revealing a hidden space she didn't know about. Which should have been impossible. Phyre had absorbed The Amalgam, and thus, all her memories.

It was a small safe. It had the combination already on it. Phyre began to enter the combination and soon opened it, revealing a small box. Phyre retrieved and opened it.

A purple crystal flung itself into her skull, instantly eliciting a metallic screech of Pain from her as she collapsed, flesh writhing and melting off her face...

Present...

The Amalgam stalked the streets of New Adasta, completely unaware and not remembering the incident which had occured on her ship before running into Laertia Io and Maple Harte. Getting in had been easy when she could camouflage herself with The Force.

She could see Squads of Nuetralizers engaging NIO patrols as she moved, simply looking to inflict as much slaughter as she could. She was disappointed her daughters had chosen to strike off on their own as opposed to teaming up and truly raining unholy hell on whatever forces crossed them, like they used to in the good old days.

But today, The Amalgam (and The Darth Phyre hiding on the inside of her mind, puppeting her) was about to get a very nasty and potentially fatal surprise.

You see, some enterprising Chaos Writer had decided to create a truly diabolical piece of Hardware! IC of course, Laertia and friends had been pissing so many people off they had to create a truly dangerous droid to go after truly dangerous Force Adepts and cover it in human skin because FETH subtlety. Because when The Amalgam can find a Pizza Delivery Service that delivers to her in an active warzone, and Laertia creates comedic but still utterly murderous Terminator Expies with Disco Stu levels of obsession with boogie-references, Subtlety's kinda had its day. ( It was always me, Tony: 90 XP)

Regardless, both parties about to encounter each other were about have a fascinating, truly philosophical clash that would explore deep, meaningful issues like fate, predestination, and hope.

(Cutaway of J. Jonah Jameson laughing uncontrollably)

Nah, I'm just kidding. They were gonna have a highly destructive fight that was gonna break the FX budget and be gory as feth, because that's what the laws of Thermodynamics demand.

The Amalgam spotted the blue hearts team that a brand new type of killing Machine had been deployed with.

The Amalgam, equipped with the same type of high caliber bolt action sniper rifle her apprentice used (It resembled the Real Life SMLE Rifle, if you are curious.) spotted DT moving with the others. Big and massive, The Amalgam's Fourth Wall violating insanity allowed her to recognize DT as some sort of extremely dangerous expy of an Arnold Character but she wasn't exactly sure which character he was an expy of (And made the mistake of thinking DT was some sort of Expy of John Matrix or Dutch).

She decided to test and see what expy he was exactly, by taking aim at a nearby soldier and blasting him right through his stormtrooper visor to see how DT would react. Being, well, The Amalgam, she was still supremely confident in herself. Perhaps, too confident. It generally isn't wise to step to a properly done Arnold Expy without a good back-up plan, like having Robert Patrick on speed dial...

 

[Jyoti Nooran]

The Silver Jedi Concord has answered the Galactic Alliance’s call for support as their original assault forces remain stranded on Ziost under withering air dominance by the Sith. A small task force, led by Admiral Gir Quee and Maser Jyoti Nooran emerge in the system to help break Sith space superiority and provide lifesaving medivac to critically injured Alliance forces and civilians.

Jyoti intends to go to ground with the medivac units on a personal mission to to rescue her best friend and former apprentice Allyson Locke, who is now crippled from a bloody duel with Darth Vulcanus.

However, the rescue operations may be cut short as dark clouds gather over New Adasta. Possible disaster looms over the heads of the GA and its allies as the Sith Empire strikes back...

​

Location: Ziost Orbit -----> New Adasta
Objective: Medivac
Allies: GA and friends
Opposition: TSE
With: Allyson Locke , Gir Quee
Engaging: Irina Volkov

Through the use of instinctive astrogation by Jyoti, Nightshade closely trailed Admiral Quee’s flagship in real time through hyperspace, almost hugging Paladin to keep her stealth frigate hidden within the heavy cruiser’s mass shadow. Upon reversion, its corona radiation and gravitic disruptions were washed away in the wake of the larger ship. While stealth systems were fully functional, the frigate was practically invisible back in normal space. A good thing as the Sith blockade amassed over Ziost immediately struck at Gir’s formation hard.

Gir announced their arrival, but Jyoti was already pulling away, Nightshade melting into the black expanse for a clear shot to low-orbit. For fear of alerting the enemy, she did not dare send a reply even over tightbeam, but she still silently wished him luck in her mind. Steady incursions by the Bryn’adul kept the bulk of Silver forces locked up on the frontier, so Gir and she would have to make up for their lack of numbers with cunning and experience. If anyone could survive such adversity, it was him.

“I found a path,” she announced to the Bridge, “Jumping in 3...2...1...”

For several milliseconds, space warped and condensed around Nightshade as it engaged its dimensional drive, the ashen vista of Ziost now suddenly dominating visual displays after the frigate had successfully skipped past the blockade.

“Matching orbital velocity…there. Hopefully our GAM and Ziost’s gravity well masked the jump, because if not, we’ll probably only have a slim window to deploy before we have to peel out.”

“That’s no problem,” Nightshade’s captain replied, standing over Jyoti still at the helm. “We can always come back around after we broken any pursuit, it will just take time. I’m not liking this storm system we’re picking up, though. Definitely unusual for this environment, especially with the timing.”

“It most certainly is…” Jyoti agreed, opening a new pane for an overhead view of the ruined city. Even though the display was a pure computerized rendering, she still felt a strong disturbance emanating from the projection. “I think the Sith still have one more card to play...we have to hurry. Alter the trajectory of the pods so they land on the outskirts of the city outside of the system then inform them to keep low. I’m going down now, I relinquish control of the Bridge to you.”

She rose, trading salutes with the Besalisk officer. A couple minutes later, low rumbles reverberated throughout the ship as blisters ejected decoy drones and troop pods into the atmosphere. At the same time the hangar bays slid open, combat airspeeders and Bobcats launching to run escort.

For a few moments she lingered, observing deployment. Years ago, her predecessors running the Nightshade had attempted a similar operation against the Sith Empire on Mirial, but that had wound up as a disaster. Jyoti now stood in their place because of that fateful, dreadful night.

She had to be better.

She would be better.

Only then could there be atonement.

With a heavy sigh, she finally turned away from the bridge for the turbolift, rubbing the ring on her finger. It hummed softly with energy in its active state, primed for communication.

“Velvet to Safety, the Sith are dropping fresh units into the city, but we’re here now. Hold on and prepare the wounded for extraction – help is on the way.”

Summary of Actions:

-Jyoti stealthily inserts into system by running within Paladin Commitment's mass shadow and reversion wake.
-Makes a stealthy microjump via Dimensional to bypass Sith fleets and enter low orbit for deployment.
-Acknowledges Taeli’s ritual beginning to manifest as a storm system and adjusts landing zones accordingly.
-Troops pods, decoy drones, and escorts are launched from Nightshade.
-Contacts Allyson to announce arrival via Starlight.
-Landing on next post.

 

[Chasianna]

Location: Temple Engineering Core, Prosperity
Allies: TSE ( Alina Tremiru Darth Strosius Saket Keane )
Enemies: GA ( Kaska Arden Dagon Kaze ) │ NIO

The tiny electromancer made her way through the labyrinthine interior of the Prosperity with dutiful purpose, the energies of the Dark Side simmering beneath the surface as she navigated the corridors of the vessel utilizing the readouts provided to her by the Foreign Intelligence Network. In doing so, she came up on more than a few security patrols. Such was to be expected, as while the Prosperity was a Temple, it was also a war ship, one that was invading foreign territory in the escort of a military fleet. As such, she felt neither regret nor guilt as she maneuvered past or through the patrols, knowing that while she was drawing attention to herself in engaging them, the Jedi would elucidate her position regardless of the manner of her approach.

A soft hissing noise echoed within the hall, then a cocktail of liquid nitrogen and CryoBan was cast forth from her wrist-mounted CryoBan projector onto the rear of a security squad, the freezing cold anchoring the men in place until the last of the soldiers was either dead or incapacitated. Another encounter with a security squad a few moments later saw a similar outcome, albeit inflicted by her wrist-mounted sonic stunner and her holdout blaster.

However, in sensing the approaching presence of the Jedi, the Sister decided to shift course from her path to the meditation sphere, instead opting to head for the vessel’s engineering core. However, the transition did not come without resistance, as such a critical area was layered with defenses to ensure that potential saboteurs would face the utmost difficulty in penetrating the location. These were met with the devices on her utility belt, primarily the individual field disruptor to bypass ray shielded areas and the security overload module. However, engaging such defenses cost her valuable time, as with each passing moment, the Sister sensed that the Jedi were converging on her location.

The last barrier to the engineering core came in the form of a small security squad, one aptly equipped with sonic weapons to deal with the Force-sensitive intruders in their midst. Left with no choice but to engage them head on, the Sister ignited the coruscating magenta blade of her lightsaber, then cast the weapon forth as she emerged from the hallway, striking down three of the soldiers before the blade returned to her grasp. The last two fired their weapons at her, only to find their attacks obstructed by a projected Force barrier.

In the next instant, she was upon them.

Moments later, she stood alone over the fallen bodies of the soldiers, sweat glistening across her brow as she caught her breath. All the while, the Sister pulled the alchemical potion she had finished only days before from her utility belt and administered a single dose to herself via injection.

Then, she waited for the Jedi to arrive.

Spoiler: Loadout

• First Sister’s Sith Uniform
  • Undersuit
    • UL-14 “Virtus” Class Underlay
  • Energy Shield(s)
    • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
  • Alchemical Talisman(s)
    • Jin'Wodasir - Pins of Protection (2)
    • Talisman of Concentration
  • Left Wrist
    • ACS-207 Cryo-Ban Gun
    • Wide-Beam Sonic Stunner
    • Universal Gas Launcher
      • Pink Vapor
  • Right Wrist
    • ACS-208 Wrist Tensor
    • Wide-Beam Sonic Stunner
    • Universal Gas Launcher
      • Vertigon Gas
  • Utility Belt
    • FAE/U-01 "Serenity" Anti-Signal Field System
    • Empyrean Infusion
• Miniaturized Double-Bladed Spinning Lightsaber (Magenta Blade)
• Whimsy Knife
• DL-13 Holdout Blaster

 

[Zaavik Perl]

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Repulsorengines roared as three Sith-Imperial TIEs flew overhead. Zaavik dove forward, landing shoulder first against a slanted bit of war-rubble, and ideally out of sensor view of the passing aircraft. His head followed their pass with a high arc, eyes settling on the horizon as they grew smaller against the sky. Zaavik remained behind cover until he could no longer hear the bellow of their engines.

Once he was certain they hadn't noticed him, he brought one hand up and vaulted over his cover. Boots crunched into the dirt and grime beneath, the toe of the left knocking against something hard. The sensation drew his gaze; a corpse of the GADF color. The face, or what was left of it, was beyond any attempt of identification. A quick tug snapped the tags from around his neck, which Zaavik quickly pocketed.

There was a ripple in the force, a phantasmal lead that'd he'd unwittingly facilitated. Yet again he found it tugging him along, even now in almost direct opposition to what he should have been doing. Here was Golden Starbird Recipient Zaavik Dagoth, War Hero of the Alliance, and Shadow of the New Jedi Council, blatantly defying orders. Few people familiar with him beyond name would be surprised, but it certainly wasn't a good look.

Not like that that had ever stopped him from doing anything.

The distinct sound of a footstep suddenly overtook every other sensation as a precognitive sense of danger washed over him. Emerald plasma ignited, elbow bent, and crimson clashed over his shoulder with defensive viridescence. He whirled, sending strikes forward as he advanced. An opening presented itself, and one upwards strike sundered both the assailant's hands at the wrists. The followthrough sent the greenish blade sinking into the cest, incinerating the heart with the contained heat of a sun.

As his eyes met his assailant's, he finally actually noticed the person before him, rather than the red, glowing danger. Zeltron, female, about his age. The look on her face was unbearable as she experienced her last agonizing moment of life. Zaavik avoided her gaze and brought his foot upwards as she fell to her knees. His boot pressed against her upper breast and collar bone, forcing the now limp cadaver from his blade and slumping onto the floor with an extension of his knee.

He looked down past the wisps of smoke that rose from the hole in her chest. Like him, so very young, but unlike him, so very dead. She'd thrown any immunity their shared youth might have offered when she assumed the intent to kill. The lifeless, pinkish irises stared at him, aimless and devoid of intent, yet still staring right at him. He averted his gaze sharply, squeezing his eyes closed with a closed-mouth grimace.

It took a moment for him to muster the strength to unfreeze himself, but he eventually managed to press on. It was far from the first life he'd taken, but as if adhering to some intangible, alien logic, it had managed to affect him. Perhaps the look on her face reminded him of the Senator. Maybe it was the turbulent ripple he followed leaking some kind of secondhand aguish into his shred of empathic capability. It was morbid in the context of only just taking a life, but he wondered if he was losing his grip.

This is a real bad time to get soft, he thought to himself. Any life lost was a tragedy, but it was the unfortunate reality of war that death is callous, sudden, and brushed aside unceremoniously. At least until the battle was over. Many cried in outrage at these realities, others sought to minimize their existence entirely. Few of them were had ever been present to witness them. Fewer of them were forced to be haunted by the fact that they were the last thing some people would ever see. Those who had to live with both, fewer than Hutt's teeth they were, yet still somehow naive.

Zaavik envied them, those whose spectacles would not allow them to stare into that abyss. It had gone beyond staring, or the staring back commonly associated with it. It was now a listless drifting in that abyss, indifference as a sail. A slow and insidious usurper was apathy. Altruism's throne in Zaavik's heart had never had a legitimate claim to oppose it until now. For as long as it could last, the only thing keeping the seats as they were was spurn and stubbornness.

A noise like something dying caught his attention as he had trekked deeper. The spectral sensation reverberated the sound in a sense beyond the real. He shifted course toward it, skulking through what remained of an atrium. The sound continued, sounding more human the closer he came. Emerging from behind a shred of metal and stone now unrecognizable, he was greeted to the sight of a familiar, red-headed figure curled into the dirt.

Zaavik stood a mere two meters away, devoid of any verbal sentiment. An empathetic grimace seized his features, but he didn't say anything. What was he supposed to say? He could easily cut her down now, taking advantage of her vulnerable state. Yet, he didn't, or more accurately couldn't. Not even apathy could drive him to snuff someone out in the literal fetal position. But, truthfully, it went beyond that in its own inexplicable way. Anti-climax to their menagerie of encounter aside, it just didn't feel right.

Even with all this consideration, he said nothing.

 

[Darth Ahriman]

Objective 3: Decimate the Frontlines.
Inventory: Apparel | Lightsaber.
Support: Sigma-Five Squadron, Specialized Infantry Unit.
Allies: Sith Dominance & The Sith Empire.
Opposition: Cotan Sar'andor , DECEASED Erskine Barran & The Galactic Alliance.

​

"Sir! Hostile Armor bearing down on our position!" Sigma Five's Captain called from his position of cover across to Valen as the Acolyte gave one last sweep of his lightsaber, the Force guiding his hand in time for a blaster bolt to hit the blade and be deflected back at the soldier who'd fired the shot.

"Call for the AT-AE's to prioritize targets, Captain. Immobilize their armour and we will do the rest!" Valen shouted back, his gaze drawn to the armoured opposition, most inconveniently sensing the Force User from earlier to be within the nearby vicinity, if not aboard one of their transports.

Breakthrough the armour and the crew aboard would be left vulnerable. It seemed a simple enough plan, providing the Light Repulsortanks could keep them back long enough for the Heavy Walkers to get within effective firing range.

The frontlines were where the fighting was heaviest, both armies clashing together in order to take New Adasta for their own, yet for the Sith Empire, taking the frontlines wasn't the end-all for Command; They were buying time for the Citizen Army to arm themselves and overtake the Invaders from behind enemy lines.

Surviving in the open battlefield for any normal man was a fool's errand, numerous lives would be lost on all sides of the fight, yet with the Force within his control, Valen's movements were swift and precise. Sigma-Five could hardly keep the pace as the Acolyte weaved in and out between his own people, some taking hits that should've been meant for him, his lightsaber a beacon to any soldier of the Galactic Alliance, an invitation to shoot, yet surrounded by so much violence, Valen drank in the energy wrought on by the hate that flowed throughout every man and woman in battle, harnessing the Darkside to fuel his instincts and strengthen his resolve.

His Lightsaber plunged deep into the chest of an enemy trooper, his free hand wrenching the man's blaster from his grip and turning it upon his squadmates, using the body for temporary cover against their blaster fire before Sigma-Five could gun them down, Valen pulling his blade from the corpse, dropping it and the blaster together as he sought to continue on his heading towards the presence of the Force User, Cotan Sar'andor .

"AT's in range, Sir!" The Captain announced, causing Valen to spare him a glance; "Then open fire on them!" he almost hissed in impatience, frustrated that he'd need even give the command. Every second counted, every missed opportunity meant lives lost and momentum swayed in either direction.

Valen refused to step down, not when he had come so far and not with the echo of his Master's Orders in mind, recalling upon her lesson the first time they had met. He wouldn't be another useless puppet, discarded as the other Acolytes had been so easily tossed aside.

 

[Marcis Sorr]

Objective: Find and eliminate high-value targets.
Equipment: Sorr's Shatterbracers | Close-Fitting Combat Suit
Writing With: Viers Connory

Much like the foe he had not yet met, Marcis was far from the most well-informed of combatants. There was probably a plan, a greater purpose, but if he was being honest he'd only been halfway paying attention before nabbing a boarding pod and setting out on a mission of his own.​

His memory of Generis was fuzzy but knew he had failed, knew he had barely gotten out alive, knew he had to be better.​

Shaking off that vaguely-remembered nightmare, he poked his head back around a corner, confirming that the guards stationed outside had been called elsewhere. This was his time to shine. A short while and an autoslicer tool he had requisitioned from some intelligence organisation or another later and he was inside. Gaudy, beyond gaudy - and filled with strange art, including depictions of aliens and a shirtless human posing seductively.​

---​

This could only be the Chancellor herself's suite, of that he was sure - even for a Head of Staff the choice to include a solid aurodium toilet in an already excessively large bathroom seemed a bit tasteless. Surely there were better ways to spend such wealth. With nothing better to do, he had taken a seat, waiting patiently until finally, when he was beginning to doubt his plans, voices and music could be heard from the main suite.​

Pushing himself to his feet, he snuck over to the door, readied his wrist-weapon, and rushed in, ready to open fire at a moment's notice.​

"Your time is over Chan..." His words and motion alike fell flat as he was met not by Adhira Chandra nor even by Aerarii Tithe (the true owner of the suite) but by some girl and her robot monkey standing next to a gigantic heart-shaped bed that he could swear hadn't been there before, a rotund strobing light hovering above. "... who the kriff are you?"​

 

[Noel Strasza]

new div who dis?

V A C U U M
B R I D G E B R E A K E R
I C O R I T H, C A R L A C

It was peaceful that day. So she had been told. It always was on this planet, wasn't it? Rarely was there a moment of strife or conflict to be seen on those frigid streets she had earned her first bars patrolling. The people were content. The governing forces installed by Lord Halketh seemed to instill a sense of peaceful order and kept those migrant newcomers to the newly tamed planet supported and heard enough the word rebellion had been lost in the minds of those who dwelled here. No one wished for a change to their newfound way of life. No one wished for a sense of instability or turmoil. For too long, those refugees who now called this frozen rock home had been handed off from one place to the next, ever tireless in the pursuit of safety and a new place to call home.​

In some ways, perhaps more than most, Major Noel Strasza related to that sentiment.​

She was just a dumb kid, it felt like, when she had landed on this newly industrialized world. Naivety was her companion as she wandered the streets, seeking adventure far beyond anything she had experienced in her years up to that point. Dar'manda then without much to her name, the icy world was rife with opportunities nearly around every corner, it felt like. She could situate herself in the production or processing lines of Nova Vox. Of course, as much as she desired something different, old habits were hard to break, especially once the trickling stream of credits she had brought with her had started to dry.​

It was fitting then, she found herself sitting in the recruiter's office, enlisting in the planetary corps. ​

Little did she actually know at the time, signing her name on that line is what would shape the rest of her future.​

How many days had it been? She didn't know. She couldn't keep track of the hours down here, suspended from the anchoring arms of the machinery centered in the lab. It was cold. Sterile. Nothing came to mind after the initial shock wore off and she was left in isolation to be consoled only by the faint whirr of mechanization with every shift of her eyes and the distant hum of some mock, digitized pulse resonating where her ribcage used to be. The overhead lights buzzed at a frequency she had never noticed before- or maybe she had. She couldn't remember. Had she ever been in this place before? How was she to know? It was only after Halketh had vanished from her line of sight and departed the space that she had truly felt the sinking weight of dread plummet into her stomach. She had been wary of him before, but after those vile lines he muttered in some weak attempt at comfort, he made the metaphorical hair on the back of her neck rise.​

Had he spoken the truth to her? That she was only the first of many to come? That there would be others after her, kin of a new sort if she were to be a success; she was an experiment? Why? How? A million questions surged through the cyborg's mind as she hung in silence, barely able to find the strength to pick her head up and glance around the space. A cornered animal. She was a wounded, cornered animal and there was nowhere for her to hide. Desperately, she focused on her fingers and hands, urging them to curl into fists in defiance of the broader picture. She wanted to fight this nightmare- to wake herself up back in her bed. Yet, try as she might, the limbs were inactive, barely connected to her torso by the amalgamation of cables threaded from the myomer muscle to the internal systems. Nothing allowed her any freedom of movement beyond that of her head was socketed and powered on. Even if she hadn't been strapped into this terrible, spidery machine, she wouldn't have been able to move.​

A prisoner in a shell she was to learn was her new body.​

Roughly, she screwed her eyes shut, forcing out the glower of the lights exposing her glinting metals. She didn't want to see it anymore. The rapid breaths she struggled to take then sounded a rising alert in her system, startling her to jolt, and she would have, given any other state. Red lenses flew open as she peered around the room once more, searching for the source of that shrill beep. And it was then, the framing of her HUD shifted, aligning itself in digital space projected over the conscious plane of her view spelled it out for her. She was suffering a panic attack. She barely even registered the gasping, gulping mouthfuls of air she had been swallowing down. Noel couldn't be calm in a time like this. She couldn't soothe herself. This wasn't a dream. This was very, very real. ​

And it was worse than any nightmare she had ever been forced to watch unfold.​

Something in her chest hissed, releasing streams of steam from vents aligned along her ribs she couldn't see where she was. An eerie, forced calm washed through her, flushed rampantly through her veins as some unknown valve turned. The gasping leveled out. The alert fizzled from sight. Her vision spiraled in on itself, pin-holing as a weight closed down on her, pinning her thoughts to a sluggish standstill. ​

Sl-
She didn't want to, she needed answers.
-ee-
She couldn't. Not here. Not now.
-p.

K I N G S L A Y E R
W A R M A C H I N E
2ND DOOM DIVISION | THE WATCHMEN | 8/8
T A S K F O R C E I M P E R A T O R
ENGAGEMENT | OPEN - COME ONE, COME ALL!
"If God wanted you to live, he would not have made me!"

​

They had always been something of a wildcard squadron, especially for as small as they were, but that rarely affected the outcomes of their operations. A ruthless cleaver brought down without an utterance of warning from any who may have witnessed their coming. That was their gimmick. Some of the New Imperial forces were known for grindhouse tactics. Others were phantoms who appeared and vanished without a trace, leaving silenced victims in their wake. The Watchmen operated around one rather basic element by comparison: surprise.​

Half the time, it was a marvel their allies even knew where they were. That was entirely the fault of the squadron's less-than-sociable commander, of course, that notoriously unforgiving cyborg with a ravenous bloodthirst that seemed endless when it came down to the wire. The plaguedog let off the leash. Major wasn't one for chatter in the loading bays before deployment. She wasn't the sort to share in her plans or the mission she had been tasked to carry out. Ziost had been no different.​

Their uneventful landing and unloading of their bikes had been as quiet as they tended to be when the mission lay directly ahead. The Blue Hearts were here and after Generis, there was a soft spot on the warmachine's plated exterior for that company- and not just the one left behind by the explosive shot she had tanked to the chest, either. So, that's where she aimed her focus. Anti-armor weapons in tow, The Watchmen rushed from the far edge of the central engagement on their way to it all, propelled on the near-silent drone of swoop engines. ​

Those walkers were looking mighty tasty.​

<"Any of y'all think it's weird that we're helping the GA?">, of course, it was their resident slicer who broke the sacred silence first. ​

<"I was unaware you were capable of thought at all, Tyco."> Penny shot back without missing an opportunity to jab at the former criminal.​

<"Listen. I can't be the only one that remembers what happened at Yin-"> the specialist promptly shut his trap as Strasza's head turned unnaturally about on her neck. He could feel the glower through her visor.​

It was only once she turned her focus forward once more that the cyborg addressed those zipping in formation with her: <"Forgiveness goes a long way in the galaxy. Be wise to remember that.">​

<"That's awfully rich comin' from you Major.">​

<"I got my reasons. Don't worry about 'em."> Strasza stated back evenly, voice warped through the vocoder implanted in her throat, <"Now everyone be quiet while I make a call or I'm pullin' this formation over.">​

She slid a hand across her lap, swiping her fingers across the pad implanted into her gauntlet to switch her comm frequencies. ​

<"This is Scout Leader,
Watchmen are en-route to cripple their armor from the northeast.
Don't splatter us on our way there, over.">

Mighty tasty indeed.


​

ALLIES | GA | NIO | DECEASED Erskine Barran Willan Tal Maynard Treicolt Captain Raith Cotan Sar'andor Zirell Marxon
FOES | TSE | S-IMPS AND OTHER UNSAVORY FOLKS | Valen