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

[Zaavik Perl]

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

The sound was deafening, though the impact only manifested a flinch. Forearm rose to shield eyes from dust and debris as he squinted against the current. Stepping against it, he begrudgingly took Aradia by the arm and pulled her upward, moving them both deeper into cover as an unidentified ship burst into flames overhead and careened down somewhere beyond view.

As soon as a sufficient roof loomed overhead, he released her and spun around to face. "This is why I said we should move!" he quipped with dissatisfaction, face now peppered with war-dust. "-And no one sent me here. I should be elsewhere, but- You know what? It doesn't matter. But yes, that's it, I figured. We aren't kids Aradia, especially not when we take up arms. I'm not here for moral debates, I gave that up on Bastion."

He shook his head, an indecipherable expression on his dirt-mired face. "I was looking for you," he confessed plainly. He followed the trail most potent in the force, as he assumed was its will. Why else would it be so blatant on the air? "What happened to you?" he demanded. "You're usually so stubborn you'd suffocate if I told you to breathe, but you were just about to let me kill you back there. For what?" If every moment meant something, as he'd been taught, this one was a particularly agitating puzzle.

Was it empathy? A dogged search for meaning in this chaos? He intentionally ignored the harder questions.

 

[Master Zoryu]

The White Riders
THE NEW JEDI ORDER | FIND THE SOURCE OF EVIL

​

The Sith planet of Ziost had not been rehabilitated entirely during the short period of time that the Jedi had managed to gain a foothold there. The vegetation was still dead, struggling to return, the weather was dry and choked anyone who dared a breath too deep. This was not a bug in the system, of course, it was a feature of worlds that had been overrun by the Sith and their evil. As the obrak's mighty hooves thundered across the plains, it kicked up clouds of dust and mangled roots that had either been sucked dry by the dark energies of the world or simply left barren, to begin with. It brought great sadness to the old Jedi's heart. This was in the places of the planet that had been allowed to partially thaw. The rest was indeed barren, trapped behind the ice. Only the Force knew what evil secrets were hidden there.​

His would-be opponent was not found squirreled away in some distant fortress. Rather boldly, he noted by the direction the foreboding clouds were moving overheard that he was swiftly closing on the source of the dark magics. Overheard angry clouds jolted and seemed to curb downward at him, causing sudden alarm. Which an effortless flick of his wrist, Zoryu rose his staff into the air and a light burned forth that droved back any sign of darkness that had been gathering above.​

He hardly felt in danger, but something about the dark clouds unsettled him and his ability to disperse them with little effort would, he hoped, serve as a reminder that both the Darkside and the Lightside bring powerful energies with which to contend. He had not been completely certain that the clouds were not meant as hostility until the sith who seemed to protect the source of this Chaos appeared to stand down, apprehensively at his approach. They winced at the bright light from the tip of his force staff and he obliged by dimming it slightly at the edge of the assemblage. "I am Master Zoryu of the New Jedi Order and I have come to treat with the powers that claim command here," he said, refusing to dismount from the obrak but certain his intended audience could her him quite plainly snow.

Zory held his staff in a relaxed position and started up at the darkness that was clearly the epicenter of his concerns. I prayed that Asmundr Varobalder had eyes on him.

​

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | GA | THE LIGHTSIDE | Zark San Tekka | Asmundr Varobalder
ENEMIES | TSE | THE DARKSIDE | Taeli Raaf

 

[Darth Daiara]

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Spoiler: The Story

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.

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.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

A familiar presence washed over her, their energy burning like an inferno inside the force. She sat up with a gasp, the eyes of Zaavik Perl emerging from the wreckage that had undone her.

"What are you doing here?" She accused, her words harsh with sudden embarrassment.

She knew what her Master would have said if she had found her like this. Her peers. Her instructors-- The weakness was seeping out of her eyes and she couldn't stop it. At some point it had all just become too much.

Something in this place made the slivers of stress exploded into cracks. She could feel it-- The wild edges to her thoughts that she didn't care to reign in. Was that the darkness, or was it her? She didn't care anymore. She had had enough.


The distant sounds of the invasion echoed over to them, the ground vibrating under her hands. She hastily wiped the moisture from her face, smearing around the dirt and dust of a battle she hadn't even fought. She was painfully aware of the lit saber at his side, the vulnerability of the moment sending adrenaline pulsing through her. Sweat joined the snot on her upper lip.

"They got to you, didn't they." A set of blood shot eyes leveled on him, the sky blue swimming with betrayal. She forced in a breath, trying to relax her seizing diaphragm and maintain an ounce of dignity. She raised her chin.

"Well, go ahead then. Do it."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A good question. One Zaavik wouldn't be able to truthfully answer himself, even if he took the time to consider it. He stared blankly down at Aradia, dour and unblinking. The only sound apart from the distant fighting was the undulating hum of the emerald death he held in his left hand. Neck twisting one side to the other, he looked around with a sharp ejection of air from his nostrils.

Another group of aircraft soared overhead, kicking up dirt and dust with an accompanying gust of wind. Stray hairs that had escaped his tie and the unzipped brim of his jacket over the strike suit all fluttered in tow. Several steps closed to distance, deliberate pace conflicted between assault and concern. Plasmatic blade crackled against dust particles in the air.




The surging green at his side was now close enough to project its glow across the diminished Sith's face. If ever there was a time to strike, it would be now. A loud, sudden droning of the saber in motion reverberated through the space around them. A sudden fizzle and the sound went silent as the blade disappeared, leaving only empty, dusty air before an unactivated hilt.

A harsh click followed, the apparatus returned to his belt coupling. Before her eyes manifested a cortosine, aluminiferous hand, fingers outstretched in offer. "Get up," he said with sincere, yet somehow still begrudging empathy. The source of the mysterious despair he'd picked up on was now clear. Aradia's sullen display was far too similar to a reflection.

Sith or not, enough exposure had proven to him that she was human, all too human. In some respect, they all were. Few had chosen alternatives to malice when put before him. Time after time she had opted not to kill him, as he'd done for her. Zaavik had lost track of the score by this point. This was either breaking even or giving her a debt. Assuming they hadn't yet gotten past the murderous friction, that was.

"Come on, get up," he repeated.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia could feel the tension in the Force as he considered it. Killing her. The air felt electrified as her very life hung in the balance. She didn't care. For a moment, a painful spell, she was ready for death.

She wouldn't of resisted. The loss of all the wars had compounded on her thin shoulders. She no longer saw any light at the end of any tunnel. She only saw the struggle of her past and the hopelessness of this never ending war. She felt incapable. She was done.

The crackle of his saber bit through the moisture of the air. She squeezed her eyes closed, braced for the blow that never came.

"Get up."

Her eyes snapped open. She balked in confusion at the hand leveled before her. "What?"

"Come on, get up," he repeated.

It was not the response she expected from the Jedi that had been her most passionate adversary for the better part of a year. They maimed each other-- hated each other. One cease fire for the sake of survival changed nothing. And yet he had put his saber away. She hadn't even considered taking hers out.

Common sense screamed in the back of her mind, but in the forefront was this nameless ache that anchored her in place. She took the hand, her body coiled in anticipation as she rose to her feet.

"Don't look at me like that." Her words were tight, biting back the display of emotion he had stumbled into. She was too distraught to blush, but she did possess the sudden urge to knock him on his butt and make their embarrassment mutual. She had never shown him anything but anger before.

"This was another Academy."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Zaavik's hand clasped around hers as he pulled upwards. The size difference briefly accentuated as his metallic extremities enclosed hers almost entirely. As soon as she was on her feet, Zaavik wasted no time having his hand abscond back to his side. In and out, the hand made an odd phantom-gripping motion inflecting his uneasy feeling for physical contact. The gesture was what it was regardless, and he'd bottle any further articulation for the apprehensive sensation.




A vague gesture was mirrored with either hand, fingers stretching out pacifistically at his sides, palms flashing outward for a moment. Afterwards, they'd slither into either jacket pocked as his azure regard drifted to the floor. He'd scan over the surrounding area, in part due to paranoia, and otherwise out of a lack of verbal sentiment to offer. After a moment, his gaze would return, now devoid of the prying expression he'd accosted her with previously.




"Yeah, I gathered that much." He'd instinctively shield his mind as the image of the lifeless gaze of the opposing Zeltron manifested in his memory. Yet another group of TIE screamed overhead. Sith or Imperial? He didn't bother to look up to find out. Nor when a second pass came in the opposite direction, even lower this time. A third managed to pull his gaze toward the sky. "We should probably move," he suggested in a vacuous, aimless tone. He walked stiffly, moving to a covered area away from the atrium without giving time for protest or obliging acknowledgment.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia stared at the ghost of a boy in front of her, hardly recognizing him without the anger and vindication drawing lines across his face. His expression was smooth. Blank.

Unresponsive to the war zone around them.

Her own pain caught in her throat. Stood there, stunned as he turned to hurry them out. "...That's it?" She chased at his heel, debris kicking up. "That's all you're going to say? You figured? There are bodies in there, Zaavrik. Kids. Our age. And they sent you back to--"

Bombs landed close by, their earsplitting explosion masking her scream. The ground shook violently, bringing down a rain of dust. It brought her to her knees. She clamped down tight and cradled her head, her elbows digging painfully into her shins. Fear pulsed through her chest. The rapid sound of her heart blocked out all else.

She might just get her wish after all, came the bitter sentiment. They could die here and neither side would blink.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

The sound was deafening, though the impact only manifested a flinch. Forearm rose to shield eyes from dust and debris as he squinted against the current. Stepping against it, he begrudgingly took Aradia by the arm and pulled her upward, moving them both deeper into cover as an unidentified ship burst into flames overhead and careened down somewhere beyond view.

As soon as a sufficient roof loomed overhead, he released her and spun around to face her. "This is why I said we should move," he quipped with dissatisfaction, face now peppered with war-dust. "-And no one sent me here. I should be elsewhere, but- You know what? It doesn't matter. But yes, that's it, I figured. We aren't kids Aradia, especially not when we take up arms. I'm not here for moral debates, I gave that up on Bastion."

He shook his head, an indecipherable expression on his dirt-mired face. "I was looking for you," he confessed plainly. He followed the trail most potent in the force, as he assumed was its will. Why else would it be so blatant on the air? "What happened to you?" he demanded. "You're usually so stubborn you'd suffocate if I told you to breathe, but you were just about to let me kill you back there. For what?" If every moment meant something, as he'd been taught, this one was a particularly agitating puzzle.

Was it empathy? A dogged search for meaning in this chaos? He intentionally ignored the harder questions.

Emotion bit across her expression, a fierce scowl turning to a sudden tremble on a dime. She was losing it. Everything felt so far away and yet so loud. She wanted to scream. She wanted to burn things. She wanted to curl up and cry and never leave her bed again.

His question brought a laugh bubbling to her lips, half crazed and half tormented.

"Exactly. For. What?"

The words hung in the air, nonsensical. Her eyes bugged as if it was all obvious. It wasn't.

"I'm a traitor. You know that? I snuck some kids out of here before the jedi hit the gates--" A distant collusion echoed to them, joining the cacophony all around them. "And for what?" She gestured at the deadly destruction of the Academy around them.

"You're back! It doesn't matter what I do-- You're always back! You won't stop until every single one of us are dead. And for what? Those students at the academy didn't chose to fight. Not like you. You came to their home and their owners put weapons in their hands and turned them into flesh shields. And for what? And I-

"I can't stop it. No matter how much power I take in-- don't look at me with like that-- don't you think I fear the darkness too? But you won't stop, you never stop!" She bellowed, fire jetting harmlessly out from her hands.

The corruption billowed off her, dominating the once complex harmony that had been her energy. Everything was off about her. The pure note of hope was gone --smothered-- as she stood in the ashes of her failure.

"Make them stop." Tears carved clean paths down her cheeks. She stepped towards, imploring. Desperation gleamed in her still blue gaze.

"Please. Before there's nothing left."

 

[Teica Giraan]

[Location: Orbit of Ziost - Peacemaker{Negotiator-class Light Cruiser} - Bridge]
[Captain Giraan reporting in]
[Interacting with: Maijan Paisea ]
​

Within an instant, the illusions had fired everything they had at the sloppy circle of Sith starships, meanwhile, the Peacemaker's guns continued to keep a lock on the increasingly worn-down cruiser at the center. If the surrounding ships could be kept busy, it would devolve into a superior Alliance force against an isolated flotilla of enemy ships. At least, that was the plan.

Teica slowly established her foothold, gently gliding her right foot back to compensate for impacts. Back straight, Arms tucked neatly over one another behind her back, her eyes narrowed, if only by a small amount, and concentrated on the viewscreen. The beautiful, blinding flurry of mixed fire, however, could only keep her attention for so long.

“I can’t go any furtherr,” Maijan's hesitant voice caught her ear, “Not if the rreality of these arre to be upheld.”

The captain turned around. Her surprise guest hadn't made it very far along the pathway before being halted. Teica only smiled and nodded in response, and began to take a few large steps back, until she stood a few meters away from the woman.

"Captain, incoming transmission from the surface," The comms officer looked up at her, "Alliance encryption patterns."

The surface? Either they'd broken through the communication jamming, or this was an elaborate Sith trick.

"Put it through speakers," She relaxed her arms, letting them drop to her sides, but then moving them to cross in front of her.

"[This is Major Dune of the Seventh Mechanized. Requesting Sit-rep on the orbital battle. A transit corridor needs to be maintained to evacuate the populace from the Starport, as the Sith Empire are starting to saturate the Outer Districts with artillery. We need these non-combatants out of here as soon as possible]," There was a pause, "[Also requesting a danger-close orbital strike on soon-to-be transmitted coordinates. I want those Sith Imperial bastards driven into the City by any means necessary. Outer Districts are controlled by Alliance Forces, with New Imperials converging on the Western approach. Be sure to double-check your targets and watch out for any interference from the coming storm-front]"​

"Message Confirmed. It's authentic," The background noise had died by the time the young lieutenant had spoken.

Teica stood in a now near-silent bridge as the crew awaited her orders. Her orders.

"We break through first. Once we have shields, we'll rush in, fire the shots, and get out," She looked around the room, "I want everyone on their best, is that clear?" Another pause in her speech, "Let's teach these monsters what happens when you mess with the Peacemaker."

"Yes ma'am," They said in unison.

"Make sure the rest of the fleet knows what we're doing," The captain looked to the side, then to Maijan, "If it won't tax you too much, We'll need a group of illusions to follow us and keep fire away from the real ships as we're making the run."

Two more shots. Two more high-concentrated turbolaser blasts. With a single salvo from the Peacemaker's remaining guns, accompanied by the efforts of the other ships, the cruiser was torn to pieces. She could almost feel the eruption of metal, flying in all directions, charred beyond recognition, and left to drift until it hit something. Teica let out a slow exhale before making her next move.

"Shields?"

"Chief's given us half shielding."

"Good. Put damage control teams on standby, prepare weapons lock," Teica turned to her side once more, checking in with the illusionist,

"Ready?"

 

[Zaavik Perl]

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A slight blench recoiled from the insistent, imploring tears. He grimaced, one eye squeezing shut as was his signature uncomfortable mannerism. "Don't do that," he protested weakly. It was definitely empathy, he could see it now. "I can't either," he conceded. "Either way you look at it, it's young people forced into war. It's not good, or right, it's war. It's reality. I can't declare the war to be over. I can't force the Empire to evacuate acolytes rather than arm them, nor can I tell the Alliance to call off the Stygian Campaign."

Zaavik took a disarming half-step backward. "We're cogs, Aradia. From my order's blood machine to yours, that's all we are. We have no say in any of this. It's an extension of a conflict as old as time itself, you know that. It's up there with the absolutes of the universe, like time or death." He sighed, shoulder sinking with exhale, leaving him looking a diminished shell of his usual headstrong carriage.

"I don't know what you want me to do," he protested softly. "You always decline my help, and now you're practically begging me? To do what? You're a traitor now, you say, and I can offer you the same thing I offered on Bastion in that case... -but I doubt that's your idea of help in this scenario." The corners of his mouth tightened into a flat purse as the outward edges of lips curled in.

"I'm just one person- Don't look at me like that."

 

[Darth Daiara]

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Spoiler: The Story

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.

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.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

A familiar presence washed over her, their energy burning like an inferno inside the force. She sat up with a gasp, the eyes of Zaavik Perl emerging from the wreckage that had undone her.

"What are you doing here?" She accused, her words harsh with sudden embarrassment.

She knew what her Master would have said if she had found her like this. Her peers. Her instructors-- The weakness was seeping out of her eyes and she couldn't stop it. At some point it had all just become too much.

Something in this place made the slivers of stress exploded into cracks. She could feel it-- The wild edges to her thoughts that she didn't care to reign in. Was that the darkness, or was it her? She didn't care anymore. She had had enough.


The distant sounds of the invasion echoed over to them, the ground vibrating under her hands. She hastily wiped the moisture from her face, smearing around the dirt and dust of a battle she hadn't even fought. She was painfully aware of the lit saber at his side, the vulnerability of the moment sending adrenaline pulsing through her. Sweat joined the snot on her upper lip.

"They got to you, didn't they." A set of blood shot eyes leveled on him, the sky blue swimming with betrayal. She forced in a breath, trying to relax her seizing diaphragm and maintain an ounce of dignity. She raised her chin.

"Well, go ahead then. Do it."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A good question. One Zaavik wouldn't be able to truthfully answer himself, even if he took the time to consider it. He stared blankly down at Aradia, dour and unblinking. The only sound apart from the distant fighting was the undulating hum of the emerald death he held in his left hand. Neck twisting one side to the other, he looked around with a sharp ejection of air from his nostrils.

Another group of aircraft soared overhead, kicking up dirt and dust with an accompanying gust of wind. Stray hairs that had escaped his tie and the unzipped brim of his jacket over the strike suit all fluttered in tow. Several steps closed to distance, deliberate pace conflicted between assault and concern. Plasmatic blade crackled against dust particles in the air.




The surging green at his side was now close enough to project its glow across the diminished Sith's face. If ever there was a time to strike, it would be now. A loud, sudden droning of the saber in motion reverberated through the space around them. A sudden fizzle and the sound went silent as the blade disappeared, leaving only empty, dusty air before an unactivated hilt.

A harsh click followed, the apparatus returned to his belt coupling. Before her eyes manifested a cortosine, aluminiferous hand, fingers outstretched in offer. "Get up," he said with sincere, yet somehow still begrudging empathy. The source of the mysterious despair he'd picked up on was now clear. Aradia's sullen display was far too similar to a reflection.

Sith or not, enough exposure had proven to him that she was human, all too human. In some respect, they all were. Few had chosen alternatives to malice when put before him. Time after time she had opted not to kill him, as he'd done for her. Zaavik had lost track of the score by this point. This was either breaking even or giving her a debt. Assuming they hadn't yet gotten past the murderous friction, that was.

"Come on, get up," he repeated.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia could feel the tension in the Force as he considered it. Killing her. The air felt electrified as her very life hung in the balance. She didn't care. For a moment, a painful spell, she was ready for death.

She wouldn't of resisted. The loss of all the wars had compounded on her thin shoulders. She no longer saw any light at the end of any tunnel. She only saw the struggle of her past and the hopelessness of this never ending war. She felt incapable. She was done.

The crackle of his saber bit through the moisture of the air. She squeezed her eyes closed, braced for the blow that never came.

"Get up."

Her eyes snapped open. She balked in confusion at the hand leveled before her. "What?"

"Come on, get up," he repeated.

It was not the response she expected from the Jedi that had been her most passionate adversary for the better part of a year. They maimed each other-- hated each other. One cease fire for the sake of survival changed nothing. And yet he had put his saber away. She hadn't even considered taking hers out.

Common sense screamed in the back of her mind, but in the forefront was this nameless ache that anchored her in place. She took the hand, her body coiled in anticipation as she rose to her feet.

"Don't look at me like that." Her words were tight, biting back the display of emotion he had stumbled into. She was too distraught to blush, but she did possess the sudden urge to knock him on his butt and make their embarrassment mutual. She had never shown him anything but anger before.

"This was another Academy."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Zaavik's hand clasped around hers as he pulled upwards. The size difference briefly accentuated as his metallic extremities enclosed hers almost entirely. As soon as she was on her feet, Zaavik wasted no time having his hand abscond back to his side. In and out, the hand made an odd phantom-gripping motion inflecting his uneasy feeling for physical contact. The gesture was what it was regardless, and he'd bottle any further articulation for the apprehensive sensation.




A vague gesture was mirrored with either hand, fingers stretching out pacifistically at his sides, palms flashing outward for a moment. Afterwards, they'd slither into either jacket pocked as his azure regard drifted to the floor. He'd scan over the surrounding area, in part due to paranoia, and otherwise out of a lack of verbal sentiment to offer. After a moment, his gaze would return, now devoid of the prying expression he'd accosted her with previously.




"Yeah, I gathered that much." He'd instinctively shield his mind as the image of the lifeless gaze of the opposing Zeltron manifested in his memory. Yet another group of TIE screamed overhead. Sith or Imperial? He didn't bother to look up to find out. Nor when a second pass came in the opposite direction, even lower this time. A third managed to pull his gaze toward the sky. "We should probably move," he suggested in a vacuous, aimless tone. He walked stiffly, moving to a covered area away from the atrium without giving time for protest or obliging acknowledgment.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia stared at the ghost of a boy in front of her, hardly recognizing him without the anger and vindication drawing lines across his face. His expression was smooth. Blank.

Unresponsive to the war zone around them.

Her own pain caught in her throat. Stood there, stunned as he turned to hurry them out. "...That's it?" She chased at his heel, debris kicking up. "That's all you're going to say? You figured? There are bodies in there, Zaavrik. Kids. Our age. And they sent you back to--"

Bombs landed close by, their earsplitting explosion masking her scream. The ground shook violently, bringing down a rain of dust. It brought her to her knees. She clamped down tight and cradled her head, her elbows digging painfully into her shins. Fear pulsed through her chest. The rapid sound of her heart blocked out all else.

She might just get her wish after all, came the bitter sentiment. They could die here and neither side would blink.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

The sound was deafening, though the impact only manifested a flinch. Forearm rose to shield eyes from dust and debris as he squinted against the current. Stepping against it, he begrudgingly took Aradia by the arm and pulled her upward, moving them both deeper into cover as an unidentified ship burst into flames overhead and careened down somewhere beyond view.

As soon as a sufficient roof loomed overhead, he released her and spun around to face her. "This is why I said we should move," he quipped with dissatisfaction, face now peppered with war-dust. "-And no one sent me here. I should be elsewhere, but- You know what? It doesn't matter. But yes, that's it, I figured. We aren't kids Aradia, especially not when we take up arms. I'm not here for moral debates, I gave that up on Bastion."

He shook his head, an indecipherable expression on his dirt-mired face. "I was looking for you," he confessed plainly. He followed the trail most potent in the force, as he assumed was its will. Why else would it be so blatant on the air? "What happened to you?" he demanded. "You're usually so stubborn you'd suffocate if I told you to breathe, but you were just about to let me kill you back there. For what?" If every moment meant something, as he'd been taught, this one was a particularly agitating puzzle.

Was it empathy? A dogged search for meaning in this chaos? He intentionally ignored the harder questions.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Emotion bit across her expression, a fierce scowl turning to a sudden tremble on a dime. She was losing it. Everything felt so far away and yet so loud. She wanted to scream. She wanted to burn things. She wanted to curl up and cry and never leave her bed again.

His question brought a laugh bubbling to her lips, half crazed and half tormented.

"Exactly. For. What?"

The words hung in the air, nonsensical. Her eyes bugged as if it was all obvious. It wasn't.

"I'm a traitor. You know that? I snuck some kids out of here before the jedi hit the gates--" A distant collusion echoed to them, joining the cacophony all around them. "And for what?" She gestured at the deadly destruction of the Academy around them.

"You're back! It doesn't matter what I do-- You're always back! You won't stop until every single one of us are dead. And for what? Those students at the academy didn't chose to fight. Not like you. You came to their home and their owners put weapons in their hands and turned them into flesh shields. And I-

"I can't stop it. No matter how much power I take in-- don't look at me with like that-- don't you think I fear the darkness too? But you won't stop, you never stop!" She bellowed, fire jetting harmlessly out from her hands.

The corruption billowed off her, dominating the once complex harmony that had been her energy. Everything was off about her. The pure note of hope was gone --smothered-- as she poured out her heart to him for the first time.

"Make them stop." Tears carved clean paths down her cheeks. She stepped towards, imploring. Desperation gleamed in her still blue gaze.

"Please. Before there's nothing left."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A slight blench recoiled from the insistent, imploring tears. He grimaced, one eye squeezing shut as was his signature uncomfortable mannerism. "Don't do that," he protested weakly. It was definitely empathy, he could see it now. "I can't either," he conceded. "Either way you look at it, it's young people forced into war. It's not good, or right, it's war. It's reality. I can't declare the war to be over. I can't force the Empire to evacuate acolytes rather than arm them, nor can I tell the Alliance to call off the Stygian Campaign."

Zaavik took a disarming half-step backward. "We're cogs, Aradia. From my order's blood machine to yours, that's all we are. We have no say in any of this. It's an extension of a conflict as old as time itself, you know that. It's up there with the absolutes of the universe, like time or death." He sighed, shoulder sinking with exhale, leaving him looking a diminished shell of his usual headstrong carriage.

"I don't know what you want me to do," he protested softly. "You always decline my help, and now you're practically begging me? To do what? You're a traitor now, you say, and I can offer you the same thing I offered on Bastion in that case... -but I doubt that's your idea of help in this scenario." The corners of his mouth tightened into a flat purse as the outward edges of lips curled in.

"I'm just one person- Don't look at me like that."

"I'm not running away to be some jedi," she dismissed in distaste. She looked away and wrapped her arms around herself, the motion tight and desperate.

His reasoning brought her no comfort. Life brought her no pleasure. The reality they lived in was stark. Harsh. Bleak. It was no wonder Kaalia Pavanos had tried to remove her from the front lines when the first signs of strain had shown. Aradia should have listened to her. Her old master really had had her best interests at heart.

Unlike the Empire.

But she still needed the heartless system. The Empire gave her resources-- instructors-- bases to rest and reset. It took more from her than she could spare, but without it... she had nothing. She couldn't leave.

She wasn't half as free as she thought she was.

She turned back to him sharply, a guttural noise pulling from her chest.

"So we don't do it. We don't go out there. We don't fight. What's there left anyways? It's just dirt. Bombed dirt. Is that really worth dying for? For once, let's think for ourselves.

"Stay here with me."

 

[Zark San Tekka]

They say your eyes are on fire
They say you'd kill a man for walking the wrong side of the line
But men, they say a lot of foolish things
And in the end the only words I can find to believe in are mine

​

"I can hear them."

Master San Tekka did not need to listen. Sith runes carved into his flesh burned with painful sympathy. Ominous whispers in a voice he recognized. A voice the Jedi once thought he knew well. It was the voice of Taeli Raaf . He wanted to believe there was still some good in her. Maybe it had all been an illusion, maybe his friend never truly existed. Maybe she was just as much a prisoner of the darkside as the fanatics under her spell. Zark did not want to kill her.

He trusted Asmundr Varobalder when the valkyri warned they could not rely on a swift return for Master Zoryu . New paths of fate sprawled before them. Walking the paths was sometimes a burden yet he could not imagine sensing the Force in any other way. Wild magic the witches of Dathomir once called it. A living conduit for the light. It flowed through him like electric current.

"We are luminous beings," he smiled at Asmundr.

Together they left the command bunker and ascended to the highest level of the People's Tower still standing. After navigating abandoned ruins they emerged onto a bombed overlook. Below them New Adasta's conflagration raged. So much death and darkness. Storm fronts on the horizon. A white rider crossing into shadow. San Tekka's corellian longcoat was buffeted by the strong winds.

"If these people tell this story to their children, maybe someday the galaxy will see a hero is just a man who knows he's free."

A new star dawned over the city. Radiance emanating from two of the New Jedi Order's most powerful minds. As they gathered their power it slowly bathed more and more of stormy Ziost in light. Given time it would stretch across the Central District and roll out to meet the coming ritual.

 

[Shamira Karuto]

E X P L O R E ​

Location: New Adasta, Ziost
Objective: Don’t get caught.
Allies: | Cara Dorniarn |
Enemies: | Rika Hiro |
Equipment: Vine whip (spikes on whip tipped with Iscebore oil), Nesmite Tree Seed Pods (6), Pack of Thralda Leaves, Water of Life Potions (2), knapsack full of other goodies

Cara was going to absolutely murder her.

Well, maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe Cara would finally understand that Shamira only wanted to be around Cara, to be as best of a help as she could. Perhaps that extremely tough and cold exterior would finally be broken and she would embrace the witch in a warm, careful trust that would only end up benefiting them both. That was something that could happen, for sure.

But it wouldn’t be what would happen. Not one bit. No, if Cara found the young witch hiding behind the crates loaded into the shuttle, there was little to no doubt in her mind that she would be utterly chewed out. She would then be locked into the shuttle, taken back to Drummond Kass, then shoved into her room and kept under armed guard until Cara got back, where she would be chewed out yet again. That was much more likely what would happen, and there was little doubt in her mind that it could’ve been made even worse if the scientist found her out on the battlefield.

If Shamira had to answer, however, whether the threat of such a punishment was worth being here with the Cara, there would be no hesitation that it was. She would be damned if she would be left behind yet again. Cara hadn’t even bothered to tell her the name of the planet she was going to this time either. Granted, it wouldn’t have made much sense to Shamira, who was still plenty to learn about how this galaxy worked. But she still would’ve wanted to know where Cara was going!!

They had argued before Cara had left. Argued for hours, each stepping aside to take a small break before coming back more firey than before. Nothing had been agreed upon, and the conversation laid unresolved on the floor when the scientist had pulled her coat up, grabbed her bag, and practically stomped out the door. Shamira had been left with an unresolved argument, a mind full of the possibilities of what more damage could be done to the one she could call a sister, and an apartment completely empty.

The idea that she would really sit in that apartment and stew until Cara got back was…laughable. And was the reason she was currently cloaked in the darkness of the nether, knelt down behind one of the stacks of crates that had come from Cara’s shuttle. This was a warzone, and Sha was far from unprepared. Falyood wood bark already grown up and down her body, with the moss connecting it providing plenty of mobility in the faux planet armor. Her whip sat curled on her hip, ready to be used if need be, and by the sounds of Cara calling out to these soldiers, they would be moving out soon.

And by the nether gods, there was no chance she was about to let Cara out of her sight.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

"I'm not running away to be some Jedi-"​

Features flickered, widening with an affronted expression for a brief moment. "Yeah, I didn't think so." That much had been made clear on Bastion. A great Jedi once declared that 'No one's ever really gone.' There were people much more qualified to analyze the real meaning of that than he. Though, admittedly he sometimes wondered what it really meant. Did it apply to Sith as well? No one meant no one, didn't it? Then again, even those among the greatest Jedi could be wrong.

Comms chatter crackled to life to the piece in his ear. Several voices relayed information, spouted orders, rambled off codes in the Alliance's specific military vernacular. Only one stood out: 'Nox is MIA.' Hearing them acknowledge his callsign sent a chill down his spine. So they'd finally noticed his absence, as was the inevitable. Though, he doubted significant suspicions would arise, at least not yet. It was war, chaos on its purest form. But, should he stick around much longer, he'd have an abundant level of explaining to do.

A finger pressed the side of the earpiece, temporarily silencing the device. There was still time to figure this out. Enough to even, perhaps, convince her what the right path was. If she still had the capacity for this much grief, the light hadn't entirely flickered out just yet. It was massively hypocritical to give her a second, third, fourth, countless unnumbered chance when he'd neglected to give it to others. Bastra, Zoltan Street, among others. All snuffed after singular wrongdoing, singular slights.

"Stay here with me."​

His head recoiled at an angle, brow furrowing with the narrowing of both eyes. So that's what it was? He hadn't expected such a request, although truthfully he felt fewer reservations than he believed he probably should have. "What are you-?" Hemming and hawing ensued, the inquiry devolving into a silent glare, filled in equal parts with consideration and suspicion. His comm device began to sound off again, this time attempting to address him directly, but somehow he could hardly hear it.

"Fine."

 

[Loske Treicolt]

WE RISE
ZIOST ORBIT | ASV UNNAMED
INTO THE PAST

​

Her vision was bouncing between distant, immaterial recollections and the hallways that seemed to be getting smaller and smaller.

Part of her felt like this was navigating through a fever dream –– real but lucid. The pilot was used to occupying tight hallways aboard ships, being constrained by artificial gravity and recycled air supply, but the other part, the more primal part, was confused and disoriented. In its nascence, it took behavioural cues from the Zerg. Blindly attacking, reacting, getting its hate out and satiating its hunger and need for carnage.

In the brief aftermath, a breather between the flashes of memories, she felt unspeakably lonely, surrounded only by death. All the corpses were probably –– definitely –– by her hand – claws –, she couldn’t remember clearly. But given the fact she was still standing, breathing, alive and the crew wasn’t...the deduction seemed obvious. She felt lonely. Loske was isolated, in a blank state of mind that was entirely private and wanted to escape from itself, contained within layers of self and something else as if she were melting into a breakdown. Any coherence tried to calibrate what was real, what was false, who she was, where she was, what further wants she had, and what parts were still functioning properly. She reached out and searched for the answers within.

The creature she was coupled alongside did not answer. But somewhere, in the desperation, there was a franticness that opened her up that The Force recognized and listened to. A repressed connection forced its way forward, to intercept a moment of unclarity. It was like a punch to the face, and she staggered back to slam against a wall. The alien chemistry that consumed her recoiled, exposing random parts of the human beneath in the confusion.

“I don’t know...how much you can hear me...or feel me..

The sentiment's intentions might have been to reassure, but its message was concerning. It had a concept of time, suggesting time that had passed without her knowing—- how long had she been like this? Had she not always been like this? How else would she be? Who was.. she? They? Who was talking to her? It realized it remembered...very little and continued to find no answers.

She didn’t remember anything other than random sounds floating around her mind, like unattached icebergs in a massive brain melt. Despite the unawareness, she felt an undeniably innate draw to the speaker. And so, because the host willed it, the parasite sought to find attraction.

W-who are you? I can feel you.. The admittance felt astounding, the concept of feeling someone other than Taeli in their mind was...shocking. Whoever the voice belonged to, it was lined with aggressive darkness that quenched the thirst of the parasite leeching over her flesh. As much as she wanted to saturate in its hope and anger, the frustrating inability to make an association made her want to repel the touch.

In fact, the gentle words felt more intrusive than reassuring. Her alarmed reaction sent a trembling pulse along the disembodied link, bristling in its travels through the wondrous empyrean before that fear turned into something more hostile. Angered at the lack of clarity, it found solace only in drawing whatever darkness traversed through the speaker to the receiver. That tether became drenched in something heavy, thick with discoloured animosity. So sopped in aggression that it threatened to break. Again.

Before it had the chance to snap under the strain, another reverberation came through.

“...but I haven’t given up.”

For some reason, that struck a note of familiarity. The strength behind the encouragement –– the host decided there was something funny about it. And amidst the fear, her voice prevailed: You never do.

But that voice was overcome by something stronger, more sinister: But you should.

GUERILLA RADIO​

Its attention was yanked away, pulled from the disoriented wading it had been navigating for a timeless sprawl. It was suddenly very aware of a scent something other than fear. The woman within was once again eclipsed by the creature, starved for violence and ready for anarchy.

Launching itself from the wall, it muscled itself through the corridors –– picking up notes of intensity from the fellow Sithspawn. Like a network of communication, it drew notes from The Force until arriving at the space filled with shadows that lived and breathed amidst the fire.

Malicious intent flashed its fangs and lunged without thought through the flames, arms and claws outstretched until it felt something within its clutches to grab at and drag down, slamming it to the ground before pulling a hand back to slash forward at the delicacy of what might have been a throat. Flames licked about its body, the skin retaliating to continuously regenerate. In order to preserve herself, the Jedi reduced her thought to anything less than instinctual self-defence and focusing on erecting a thin barrier about the union lest the inferno devours them.

​

ALLIES | TSE |
UHHH? Maynard Treicolt
ENEMIES | GA | NJO | NIO | Elpsis Kerrigan

 

[Laertia Io]

Following: Nuetralizers

Martin The Nuetralizer and his units moved quietly with stealth fields through the streets of New Ardasta. They had already silently killed a few of the city's defenders and were looking to murder-death-kill some more as they got ever closer to their mission objective. The Storm Conjuration by Taeli Raaf was getting worse, sending lightning strikes down on the city. It was oddly deathly quiet in some parts due to the desertion.

"Wow the Sith really want this planet..." Skipper remarked.

"Its a holy world to them..." Martin grunted, having three streaks of Black Oil across his skeleton-visage.

"The NIO must REALLY hate the Sith..." he replied.

"So you fought at Generis?" Apone The Nuetralizer asked. To distinguish itself from the rest, it had traced DON'T PANIC on its forehead in Stormtrooper Blood.

"Yeah..." Martin. "Right alongside our creator herself."

"What was it like?"

"The chit piled up so fast there you needed wings to stay above it." Martin answered. "The Jedi were everything they said they were. You really had to work at killing them. Killed one with a surfboard."

"A Surfboard?!!!" Apone hissed in astonishment. "Where'd you get a Surfboard?!"

"One of the Witches gave it to me." Martin answered.

"Well where did The Witch get it?" Skipper asked.

Martin shrugged. "Generis was fethin' crazy. Lost two of my buddies to Barran himself in a sword fight.

Martin held up the Fifty Caliber Pistol. "This belonged to Billy. He died first. Jimmy died second. I'm gonna empty this gun into any of those Blue Heart Motherfethers I can find..."

Martin stopped as he came across a scene of gore, of such ripping and tearing that his inner Doomslayer was momentarily impressed by the sheer carnage.

Stormtroopers had been pinned to various walls of a street in a clear occult ritual, by groups of women clad in skintight white catsuits covered in blood and gore as they did their grizzly work with soldier innards. Martin recognized them immediately.

"Friendlies?" Skipper asked quietly as they decloaked, each spread out and taking different forms of cover in the streets.

"No..." Martin replied grimly. "Just Non Hostiles..."

Martin came out of cover, fully visible, holding his hands up.

"Witches..." he called out to the members of The Amalgam's Cult of The Brain Demon.

One of them, a youthful, dark skinned Zabrak woman with hair wrapped tightly in a bun turned and smiled sadistically as he and the other Nuetralizers came out of cover.

"Hello boys. Long time no see since Generis..." she said, slinking up to the elite and intelligent murder-bot seductively, like the other Witches did with the other Nuetralizers.

"Such a shiny cortosis weave durasteel chassis..." one of them said as they openly flirted with Isacc the Nuetralizer.

"Well, I do try and polish often. Take a gander!" Isacc remarked smugly, 'flexing' one of his hydraulic arms, which one of the Witches delicately ran their hands over.

"Are...are these psychos actually flirting with us?" Apone the Nuetralizer asked, bewildered. "We're murder-bots. This is so fethed up."

"Ohhh, what's so bad about that?" asked another, a beautiful Twi'lek with orange skin slinking up to him. "It isn't often we run into true artists like ourselves, who enjoy the kill for its own sake."

"So, did you cut off their limbs?" Isacc asked casually as sexy saxophone music played OOC.

"You bet, handsome..." one of the witches answered, running their fingers under a skeleton jaw.

"This is both fethed and batchit, cut it out..." Martin barked at the others, wind swaying his headband in a cool yet overly dramatic fashion. He turned to the Zabrak Woman.

"I need any intel you have. Provide it." Martin demanded coldly.

The Witch huffed.

"Intel says more forces commanded by DECEASED Erskine Barran are punching through the southern ends. Heavy bombing run wiped out a good chunk of what was in the way. Lots of units from the NIO's mechanized groups are trying to pin the Sith in, or lure them into kill Boxes."

"We have brought explosives. Is this storm your Master's doing?" Martin asked.

"Nope. This is all Raaf's work. Enormously talented, that one, even by the Amalgam's standards." The Witch answered. "But we're working on a little bit of a surprise...you sure you don't wanna ditch your mission, boys? I'm sure we got some spells to send all those well forged parts of yours into paroxysms of ecstacy...who says you can't mix work with pleasure?"

"This...this is an active battlefield!" Martin protested, squicked the hell out.

"I dunno, Boss, I could get use to this..." Isacc posed thoughtfully. "These Witches ARE excellent killing machines, admittedly..."

Its worth pointing out Isacc, a noted enthusiast of delimbing people, was the ONLY Nuetralizer who was not squicked out to hell and back by the Witches attempts at flirting.

"It isn't us they are attracted to, but the Death we inflict. They probably view us as their philosophy, given form." Martin theorized, disgust in his voice clear.

"They seem to 'really' like their Philosophy." Isacc noted.

"What's your surprise, if I might ask?"

"Hate Plague..." The Witch remarked.

"This whole 'Killing People with Emotion thing is very interesting. Will it cut off their limbs?" Isacc asked.

"You bet, you durasteel dreamboat..." purred one of The Witches as their fingers glided over his reflective skull.

"The Napalm Strike knocked loose a sealed up sewer system entrance..." the Witch mentioned.

"Why was it sealed?" Martin asked.

"Not sure, but our scans indicate it goes under the entire stretch that just got napalmed, and its leading right across the path the second wave is coming in..." The Witch added, handing Martin a Datapad with the coordinates.

"We're off then. Apone, Skipper, Traverse those tunnels. Plant your thermal detonators at the most essential stresspoints..." Martin ordered, transmitting the coordinates wirelessly to his brothers.

The Two Nuetralizers nodded and went ahead into another street, heading for the second wave of enemy units pressing on the Sith...

Meanwhile...

Maple Harte cursed as she got smacked with a Force Push and flung backward. Only her supreme athleticism allowed her to compensate and land on her feet.

She adjusted, taking aim again with her bolt action rifle, sticking to the side of the wall thanks to the properties of her Masquer as Laertia Io sensed out the Life ahead and teleported behind Fisk Kamer and his ally, white robes billowing.

Laertia gave the hand signal and Maple fired at Fisks head, while Laertia darted at his ally, inverted green blade swinging for his face...

 

[Marcis Sorr]

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

If he had been thinking straight, he would probably have seen some level of resistance at the concept of being tied up and stuffed in a closet while some high-ranking official or another (presumably) gets assassinated coming. A sudden volley of pillows, however? Now that was entirely unexpected.

Sweping pillows out of the air, he was again left too perplexed to act decisively.

"What are you even-" Ducking to escape an especially large pinkish-red pillow embossed with Aargauese poetry in golden letters ("My love for you is as almost as strong as my love for consistently profitable stocks portfolios, oh jewel of my eyes."), he took a step forward, then another. "Stop that! You can't just..."

"Ha! You're the prisoner now! Gonna lock you up in a deep dark dungeon, with shackles and stuff!" Stuttering at the sight of the animal-print handcuffs, or rather the statement that accompanied them, his eyes widened. "There's a dungeon?"

Exactly whose suite had he found himself in, that didn't seem very... Chancellor-y.

Shaking his head again, he stepped closer hesitantly, as if ready to avoid another flurry of pillows or worse if need be. "No, nevermind - you're my prisoner, not the other way around. I was here first!" As if that had anything to do with it.

Kyra Perl made (and dared me to use) this div.​

 

[Jax Thio]

Location: Prosperity, the Jedi ship
Ally: BB-12
Equipment: Imperial Mk. I "Dooku-Pattern" Jedi Armor Jax's Prosthetic Arm, Jax's Second Lightsaber
Tag: Brama Tagge , Auteme , Lakura Salim (Enemy), Vexander Graves , Seto du Couteau


Jax Thio came out of meditation.

He felt much better than he was when he first entered the Prosperity, Jax was certain that he was going back to Ziost where he was going to have to relive the bloody battle which nearly got him killed. However command assigned Jax to the Starship: Prosperity feeling that his skills would serve better to guard senators as they begin negotiations. The senator in particular was Brama Tagge a woman who was a famous sniper from long ago, now a politician. The said that good soldiers wouldn't make good leaders, well clearly whoever said it was full of chit considering Brama's accomplishments. Still Jax was a bit miffed that he was reassigned away from the battle. He was ready to face his fears, and help the Alliance retake Ziost even if he felt that them being involved in this war was unnecessary.

Still Jax didn't feel any unusual activity during his meditation but that didn't mean that Sith weren't prowling about. He had to rely on more pragmatic means such as relying on his observational skills and droids such as BB-12 in order to root out the Sith Warriors. Still part of him wondered if Pom Stych Tivé would be here attempting to kill a senator or perhaps she's at Ziost using her magic to destroy every alliance trooper in sight. Jax grimaced staring at his Prosthetic. The memories were still fresh and the old wounds he suffered at the hands of Pom resurfaced, Pom wanted to kill Jax ever since Korriban and she almost did. Did she know that Jax was still alive? Did she know that Jax was still suffering everyday for his near death experience?

It didn't matter now Jax needed to focus, exiting the mediation chambers, BB-12 rolled towards the Jedi obviously happy that he wasn't going into real danger but of course was bored. "So BB-12," Jax said putting his hands on his hips. "What did you find?"

<Your Mom,> BB-12 beeped. <She was so happy to see me after->

"Focus BB-12," Jax said trying remain calm. "How are things in the starship?"

<So far so good,> BB-12 whirred. <You gotta lighten up Jax.>

"We're at war BB-12," Jax responded. "Right now we gotta make sure that everything is good."

<Well it is,> BB-12 beeped. <Now can we go home now?>

"Nope," Jax said. "We got our orders preserve hope because it never dies."

Yet the Chancellor has done a damn good job at killing hope with these unnecessary battles. Why couldn't she just leave the Sith alone so they can battle the Imperials? Was she bloodthirsty? Or was she a Jedi? Either way, it left her enemies to plot against her and Jax wondered about the possible Shocktrooper conspiracy unfolding.

 

[Vaylin]

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

While the small force she had arrived with pushed onwards, sowing chaos and destruction through Alliance One. Darth Moirai remained where she was, transfixed on calling the beacon of Light to her position. There was a lot of Darkness right now, both above and on the planet’s surface. The Sith was curious to see if the source would take the bait, snag the line she had thrown out across space.

She didn’t need to wait for long.

The moment the target felt her presence, they were on the move. Not an ounce of hesitation, just a burning righteousness shining through the darkness. Emotion was a thing of the past for Moirai, but seeing such unfiltered Light brought a smile to her face.

It was going to be fun to extinguish it.

There would be no reasoning, no attempt to convince her away from the Dark. Whomever was approaching, was going to crush her, or try to at least.

Moirai turned her back to the door, standing in silence as she waited. The center of a font of Darkside energy, drawing the soldier of Light like a magnet. She could feel the presence growing stronger, closer. Marching forwards, ignoring the chaos that erupted around them. They had a singular focus, and nothing would stop them from reaching it.

The masked Zabrak turned around as Sardun spoke, an expressionless mask staring back at the Jedi Master. Moirai tilted her head slightly, immediately recognizing the opponent before her.

Michael Sardun.

She chuckled.

“The New Jedi Order must truly be desperate, if they’ve resorted to dragging old relics to fight for them.” It all made sense now, why the one she called out towards was so singularly minded, eager to smother the Darkness. She had found a Lord of the Light. The Lord.

“Come then, Lord of Light.” Moirai reached down, metal fingers wrapping around her swords, drawing them from their sheaths. One blade held close, while she held out the other, the point aimed towards Sardun. “Greet your death.”

 

[Michael Sardun]

Enemy: Vaylin
Objective: Cleanse.

​

"Young... old... the Light is eternal." Sardun retorted calmly as he watched Vaylin, assessing her strength and the room they were in. He was no longer the young buck that went charging into a battle head-first. "And so am I." A moment later he made his move. Two steps forward, the sound cascading through the room as metal armor dashed against metal floor.

A distraction.

Easily exploited by his hand reaching out and making a fist. The Force responded in kind, suffusing his movement with strength, as two tables obeyed his telekinetic command. Flying swiftly to dash into the waiting Vaylin .

"You are a shadow."

His mind felt the tugging of Dagon Kaze as the young boy drew wildly on their combined strength. A slow growl escaped him beneath his mask. Wild, uncontrolled, undisciplined. Sardun forced that growl down. Accept patience when requiring it. Instead he projected steadfastness through the combined lattice of their minds. The Light is not wild like the crazed boar, Padawan Kaze. It is steady and everlasting as an ancient oak. Move with confidence, never lose your head as you do.

"But shadows always flee in the face of the Light."

Only then did he dash forward, hammer held up high, moving to crunch Vaylin under its weight and smashing her against the floor.

As a hammer would to an ingot against the anvil.

 

[Noel Strasza]

W E ' R E P I R A T E S N O W
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!"

In the time The Watchmen had been left unbothered- save for a few counter-snipers doing their best- they had emptied their supply of warheads for their collective missile launcher- they'd determined their skillset better utilized actively than spent sweeping back to resup. Without much else going on from their end, they rallied together and made a push towards the city, closing a strangling hold on the flank of the armor formation. Of course, they were only one squadron, but the greater coordinated forces of their allies had already started to destroy and corral the line into the city, forcing The Sith Imperials much, much further back from their established line and affording the ground pounders ripping into them a hint of breathing room.​

And it was by jetpacks, of course, that The Watchmen had made their ambushing moves when the AT-HA operators left in those walkers still standing had disembarked to aid their wounded allies. The scouts fanned out, focusing their efforts on the armor in place rather than the operators who had foolishly chosen altruism.​

Of course, Major couldn't afford and wouldn't afford her allies any opportunity to accidentally splatter any of her sabotaging squad as they roved, either. She made the call before they took the leap, passing word through the channels to cease fire on the walker stomping around on their coordinates.​

The crew within wasn't going to just come out, not willingly. However, oversight on their part in the security of their position had left the metaphorical window wide open. The Watchmen descended into the AT-HA silently and claimed it as their own, executing the six-man crew left within. It was about that time all of them had the collective realization that none of them, in fact, knew how to pilot such a massive craft- though there was nothing quite comparable to on-the-job training.​

Crabs and Rogue were dispatched to sabotage and destroy more of the armor as Noel aided Penny and Briggs in scrubbing the markings from the exterior of the craft, effectively leaving it unmarked during the slight break in fire. ​

<"Scout-Leader to all forward NIO ground and coordinating Alliance forces: there is an unmarked AT-HA moving up with the Blue-Heart column. It's ours, now, do not engage it further, out."> ​

'Barran to Scout Leader! Those ATs only fit two-at-a-time, mate. Hop in the chonky ACV at the front of the friendly column to your west, an' before you ask; aye, this is ACV One, the same command-vehicle we were racing to reach on Generis. Side-door's on the right. Blue-Heart Alpha out!'

Major thrust herself behind the primary controls of the dual turbolaser cannons and sighed. Now she just had to wait for the rest of her squad to return to man the other stations. It seemed as though at least six soldiers were required to operate the craft, luckily they were eight strong, but not a single one of them had any piloting experience. A moment of contemplation passed in silence on her end before she radioed back her reply to Barran: <"Scout Leader to Barran, that's a negative. 'ppreciate the offer, but looks like we gotta have six to operate this damn thing and I'm not leaving my squad to their own devices, over."> ​

"Awh c'mon Major, you don't trust us?" Briggs called across the internal PA system as he situated himself behind the primary controls. ​

"With a big ass walker? Absolutely not!" She snorted back, familiarizing herself with everything scattered across her newly acquired console and the narrowed view of her port. She paused for a moment, squinting at the controls as a whirring drone overtook her senses and the vehicle pivoted itself around, facing the direction the friendly armor was pushing up through. "Oh chit..." she muttered, shaking her head at the hooting echoing through the hull from above.​

"Y'ALL READY TO STEP ON SOME S-IMPS!?" ​

Was that Penny? Of course it was. If Briggs had decided she was the most qualified- she wasn't- to pilot this thing, they were likely all going to die in a glorious fireball. At least she had that to look forward to.​

The hijacked AT-HA lumbered forward with a mighty groan, following the procession of New Imperial armor as fire swirled around, closing in on the city.​

"Oh, my fuckin' days boys! Look alive! We've got some troopers mean mugging us!" Rogue called from behind the forward cannon position. ​

"So do something about it-"​

The entire craft lurched backward suddenly, filled with the deafening crack of igniter striking a shell and launching it from the main cannon. A sudden rush of artificial satisfaction rushed through the Major's synthetic frame and she grinned, leaning into the controls of her turbolasers and aligning her sights, squeezing triggers to launch a blinding barrage of fire far forward, cleaving through the ranks of the Sith Imperial ground forces. ​

Oh man. Oh man. Oh man.​

This was like the chaingun incident, only two hundred times better. ​

The Watchmen's hijacked walker proceeded forward, laying down turbolaser hurt on the Sith Imperial AT-HAs that remained, blowing them to pieces and opening the path for the ground forces to push. They had set out to destroy the armor and destroy it they had...​

"MAJOR! YOU SEEING THAT LIGHT?!"​

The cyborg peered through her viewfinder, squinting at the harshness of the flaring light radiating from within the city. "Yeah, I see it. I think the Jedi are finally doing somethin' about the storm!"​

"WE CAN HOPE!" ​

It was either hope or expect to be fried alive in their newfound toy... quite possibly the least difficult decision she's had to make in recent months.​

ALLIES | NIO | GA | SJC | DECEASED Erskine Barran Willan Tal Maynard Treicolt Captain Raith Cotan Sar'andor Zirell Marxon Tulan Kor Irveric Tavlar
FOES | TSE | S-IMPS AND OTHER UNSAVORY FOLKS | Valen Sith Dominance The Amalgam

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

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

The flames were all-embracing. All-consuming. Sithspawn creatures screeched and hissed as the charring waves washed over them, until they were silenced. And left behind charred corpses. Still, there were more. Always more.

A beast seized Tahoka by the leg, pulling her into darkness. Deprived of her blade, she fired her pistol. But the beast's maw enclosed around her helmet, only losing purchase when a burst from Vagt's repeating blaster drilled through its skull. Grabbing the Togruta by the shoulder, he hauled her up, but soon had to defend himself when a beast slashed at him. A wounded Zhaleh, flesh burning where acid had seeped through her armour, was being shielded by Rhea.

The turbolift was so close, and yet so far. Seeing that much of the corridor was being filled with flames, the arachnids had shifted tactics and tried to assault the squad from the walls and ceiling. The air was filled with blaster bolts, slug rounds, flesh and gore. Nyssa was close by Elpsis, but beleaguered herself. Cornered by Sithspawn, she let out a savage war cry and smashed her cybernetic Phrik fist so hard into a beast she tore its jaw off. More came. "Get your arse moving, Cylix!"

Then the queen abomination pounced from the shadows. Claws and arms outstretched, it descended from above. Elpsis had been dragging the flames across the corridor to hold the creatures at bay, creating a curtain of fire for the squad to pass through when suddenly the Sithspawn's full weight crashed into her body.

It felt like something had knocked the wind out of her and she hit the ground hard. Ere she had time to regain her bearings, pain surged through her as a claw struck in the spot between her helmet and chest piece. This was just over the collarbone with the trapezius muscle. The pain forced a cry from her throat. Blood seeped from her wound. It hurt to move her arm to that side.

For just a moment, time seemed to slow around her. She could perceive it clearly. Her squad had been pushing towards the turbolift, but beasts were closing in once more. Dimly she could hear Nyssa shouting and trying to reach her, with Rhea and Tahoka not far behind. There were now many Sithspawn between them and her. Even with flames embracing them, the beasts still came, giving them no pause and they spewed acidic volleys, clawed and slashed.

The mission was what mattered. Nothing else. And the parametres of the mission were clear. There was no doubt, only duty. Once that had been established, the decision was straightforward.

Move, she broadcast. Holding the rear.
Nyssa's response was loud and clear. Frak that. I'm not running from sodding bugs.

Yet even as the Pureblood tried to get close, a beast leapt at her, then another. If not for Diona's swing, she would have been seized by it. "Tu'kata, we have our orders! The squad first," Vagt barked, so Elpsis barely heard him. She also did not see him grab Nyssa, only for her to shake him off.

Beneath the monster pinning Elpsis down, Inferno blazed to life. The pyormancer thrust the lightsabre upward, hoping to spear the beast pinning her down. And she pushed the flames in the corridor towards herself, her foe and the other beasts.

Gutkuur, Tuk'ara. Proceed with the mission. Those were the call signs of Vagt and Nyssa. As flames washed over the corridor, she could sense her comrades retreating towards the turbolift. Towards the mission.

 

[Sith Dominance]

Objective: Decimate the Frontlines
Location: Aboard the Behemoth II, in atmosphere above New Adasta.
Allies: TSE
Support: AT-HA Formations | Talon Class Gunship | Vindican Class Transport Squadrons | Imperial Legionnaire | SI - MCTT | Warblade Repulsortank | OMYN Battle Droids
Enemies: NIO / GA
Tags: Valen | Cotan Sar'andor | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Captain Raith | Irveric Tavlar | Tulan Kor | Maynard Treicolt | Willan Tal | Zirell Marxon | Kal Ostan

"There are reinforcements! Droids!" One of the radiomen looked over to the Major. "What are our orders? We weren't expecting more friendlies." Armtre took a breath, his visored gaze shifting out to the incoming destruction. The New Imperials wasted no time leaping upon this presumed threat with all they had. Everything seemed to be focused just on this forward camp and the assets it had.

All was going according to plan.

"You're positive there are no more citizens left in that city? We're not Graug, that's all I care about."

"No, sir. All citizens have been evacuated."

"Then we continue as planned."

His gaze shifted to one of the engineers. Now that the shield was up, their primary focus could return. An explosion from way behind however caught his attention next. The long range artillery AT-HA were quite a distance back, but the NIO targeted them with troopers none the less. Ah, that was their plan. Force them into the city then?

The Chiss stepped over beside him next, holding up a datapad for him to observe. The Major made no move to grab it. In fact, he hadn't interreacted with a single thing since exiting the ship.

"Reports indicate most of their forces have indeed circled around us. They've taken the bate."

"Corporal!" His gaze didn't lift from the datapad. "Beacon ready?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Activate it."

​

As the NIO troopers started to more directly engage the Sith Imperial 'Legionnaire' the reality would quickly set in. Their movements were too similar to one another. Too inorganic. Where there should be blood and bone pierced by bayonets', there was only sparks. Circuitry. There were no living troops sent out with the armor. The AT-HA were in a similar case. Run by droids, not by men. As the forward camps' shield was breached and the shot was taken at the Major, it'd only pass through. His image would blip, fading for a moment before returning.

A hologram. Most within the forward camp were no more than that. Holograms. Not all, however. The Engineers needed to be there in person to build what they were building. One by one, they were shot down. The Major glanced to each of them. Behind his mask, grim determination.

"Your sacrifice will be remembered."

The Major turned from the holo projector to stare out at the signature color of Hyperspace. All around him all manner of officers and technicians ran around the bridge, readying for the arrival.

"Beacon locked onto! Dropping into realspace in three, two.."

A black shadow formed over the remaining Sith Imperial, Galactic Alliance, and New Imperial forces. The sun was blocked out, as if night had descended early. The whole battlefield was eclipsed by the arrival of the Behemoth II, right above the forward camp. Right where the Hyperspace Beacon had been set up. Like the Battle of Balmorra during the time of the Old Republic, the Empire utilized it to pass right by the orbital battle.

The true rain of fire began. Thousands of turbolasers lit up the blackened sky with arcs of green. All around New Adasta the world was brought to ruin. Anything not within the cities shield were bombarded with the never ending salvo that the Behemoth seemed to unleash. The landscape would be permanently altered.

But there was no price too high to eliminate the New Imperial and Galactic Alliance forces here and now.

 

[Mazakah]

I S A W F I R E
WANTED MAN
New Adasta, Ziost
Julian Qar | Closed

A man who had done nothing but leave fire in his wake deserved a fate like this one.
​

Had he any self-awareness, perhaps he would have agreed with such a black and white perspective. But things weren't so simple. They never had been. His motivations for coming to this world were entirely his own... and had The Sith Empire known of his arrival, he would not have gotten so far. Embers seemed to follow him, wherever he roamed, never far behind. It was almost beautiful irony when the raging war threatening to boil over and consume the streets rained liquid hellfire down around it, sending the combatants outside into the city to avoid a grim, immolating fate. ​

But by then, it was too late for the escape artist. He was running out of time.​

Fire swelled around, filling the air with the dying screams of the unfortunate, and choking the breathable air with acrid, toxic smoke and the stench of armor melting into flesh before burning to a crisp. It was all he could do then to clasp a damp cloth over his mouth and nose and press on, skidding around corners and ducking for cover to avoid the gathering swell of Galactic Alliance soldiers moving through the streets and fortifying positions. He could join them, instead, couldn't he? Or would they see him for what he was and assume the worst, gunning him down? ​

Part of him suspected the GA might not so easily look the other way if they discovered his history. ​

But the New Imperials... they hated The Sith Empire more than anyone did. Perhaps the actions which had landed him a prisoner would even be celebrated under the Iron Sun- not that he cared for such things. He just wanted to be free. To fight. Mazakah pulled his coat collar up over the nape of his neck, concealing the numbers tattooed into his hide. He doubted too many of the Sith Imperial troopers would have the attention to spare for him, but he still needed to be careful. It was hard to dip and dodge around the fighting, even as familiar with Sith Imperial tactics as he was. Those assaulting this world were not gently attempting to seize the city, oh no, it was an all-out war. Hell in every direction.​

The steep chemical taste of smoke coated the inside of his mouth and stung his eyes, choking and forcing him to throw himself low to breathe properly. There had to be an opening, somewhere. Surely an attacking force so vast and composed of so many different units and companies would slip up somewhere and leave an opening in their encirclement. A hole in the seemingly endless bombardment. Something. Anything.​

The chiss was terrified, but kept up the constant swallow of his heart, gulping it back down to where it belonged. Unarmed in a kill box... things weren't in his favor, to say the least. Even he even managed to survive this, if he did reach the New Imperials, would they even accept him? It was a gamble, one that easily put his life on the line just as plainly as being caught by TSE forces would have. At the very least, he took comfort in knowing the New Imperials wouldn't turn him over to The Empire- there was too much disdain and vitriol there on both sides. That was something, at least, for him to cling to as he urged himself onward-​

-right into a Sith Imperial biker dismounting to relay a message to front line forces. ​

Mazakah's crimson eyes widened and he swung after the smaller soldier, managing to catch him by the arm and drag him backward before ripping his helmet off- stripping him of his communications. The two tumbled to the broken street, slamming head over heels into the duracrete and against the crumbling walls of those buildings still barely standing so close to the perimeter of the city.​

"RETURN TO YOUR S-" ​

The chiss bashed his knuckles across the man's mouth, silencing him once. Then twice. Then a third time. Then a fourth... ​

Guttural, adrenaline-fueled growls clawed their way from his lips with every punch and he found himself unable to stop until his bicep burned. Sweat glistened across his scarred brow, trailing down over his jaw with the rising intensity of the fires. He turned his attention from his busted, bloody knuckles to the trooper, who at this point was little more than a limp, unrecognizable heap of bloody flesh and armor beneath him. The gentle spray of crimson from between his lips told Maz the man was still alive, but he doubted that would last. Not with how fast the NIO and GA were pushing up together, tightening the noose around the necks of those still in the city. He didn't have the time. ​

He needed to move quickly.

The rise back to his full height and return of cloth to his mouth was interrupted by a loud, growing whistle. He knew that sound. He knew that sound! The escapee dove in a panic, but by then, it was too late. The impact of the artillery shell completely shattered the building to his left, flinging debris towards him on the shockwave- ripping through his frame. Pain stirred his senses, lighting his thoughts ablaze. He was alive? Hesitantly he opened his eyes, peering down at the stomach he had tucked his elbows into defensively. Hot crimson trailed down his back, sticking his shirt to his skin. It poured into his right eye, forcing it shut. It was pooling beneath him. Where was it coming from? ​

Shock numbed his nerves. The ringing in his ears drowned out the sounds of the war happening too close for comfort, now.​

The draw of his hands revealed a warped, heat-twisted piece of shrapnel as long as his hand protruding from just above his hip.​

"Chit..." he muttered, bracing his hands around it to keep it from moving as he tried to take a step forward. ​

Pain ripped through his consciousness, forcing him to bare his teeth- hissing. A silent adjustment came to his plans then. He wasn't going to be able to reach them, no, he was going to have to wait- and pray- they reached him before his wounds killed him... or the remaining Sith Imperial forces did. Slowly, Mazakah lowered himself to the ground with another cursing grimace afforded as a response to the fire wracking his body. ​

​

If someone didn't find him... it would be very literal fire soon enough. ​

Almost the second he had settled down shields deployed overhead, guarding the city protectively. It didn't make sense to him. Why would they just now deploy the shields? It would've made more sense to-​

The world turned upside down in the span of one shaken breath, deafening him beneath the thunder laid down by the bombardment. It was all he could to do slam his bloody hands over his ears, wincing as his senses were overwhelmed by the concussive crashes overhead from the ship that seemed to appear from thin air.​

​

OBJ :// REACH THE NEW IMPERIAL FORCES ALIVE

ALLIES | NEW IMPERIAL ORDER? GA? SJC?​

FOES | THE SITH EMPIRE

 

[Seela Leini]

Location: Space - Ziost System
Call Sign: Dancer Ten
Allies: TSE
Enemies: GA (Siloh Riain Len Vert Leon Gallo Teica Giraan ) │ NIO

Owing to her craft’s gravitic amplitude modulation system, the cloaked fighter registered on her sensors, but later than SV-2121 would have liked. As such, ion blasts peppered her shields, draining the capacitors, but failing to fully collapse them before she took evasive action. The boon of having combat rated ion shields and redundant anti-Ion defenses was immediately apparent, as while her systems flickered for a few brief moments, they nevertheless retained their integrity in the face of the assault. Even so, as the bolts struck, lights flashed and alarms blared within the cabin. All the while, tensing the muscles in her body and falling into the controlled breathing pattern she had been trained to do in order to counteract the effects of high-G maneuvering, 2121 threw her machine into an ascending break turn to her left, immediate, decisive, and hard, towards the exact direction the bandit was approaching her from.

In pulling the maneuver, the Twi’lek intended to utilize her craft’s maneuverability to reduce the aspect angle between her and the bandit. However, she also put into play another weapon. A singular mental command brought the Tuk’ata’s suite of electronic warfare systems online, specifically the dedicated energy receptor projector. It was an attempt to introduce another variable for the enemy pilot to consider as she sought to turn the dogfight on its head, perhaps forcing them to rely on something other than sensors in order to ascertain her position in space, potentially creating valuable time which 2121 could hopefully exploit to her advantage...

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