Into the Jaws of Death [OP Invasion of Sith-Occupied Coruscant]

[Ashin Varanin]

KRAYT TEMPLE/TOMB
[member="Sven Talith"]

Sensors. Ember liked sensors. Lifesigns detectors, sonic whatnots, infrared, the works. His armor didn't have the most elaborate sensor suite in Mando history, but it did the job and then some. In a perfect world, he'd have had time to carve the blast door off the vault, bring it around, use it for cover one way or another. As it stood, he'd gotten two sides of a triangular door cut out before Talith's proximity strongly suggested he apply Ayden Cater's solution to the problem of not enough cover. A long step-and-slash blew a corner seam, another step and another cut put him back before the door, and Talith came around the corner.

A length of floor plating ripped itself up to touch the ceiling, blocking the passage between Ember and Talith. Massed stun fire sparked around the sheet metal, obscuring his sensors' perception of what lay beyond. Between that and Talith's Force-deadness, Ember was about to fire blind. He flattened himself against the corridor wall to the right, and his wrist-mounted Verpine shattergun put a spread of four fifty-cal slugs through the sheet metal at two thousand metres per second.

 

[Tyger Tyger]

LOCATION: Building framing the Valley of the Lords
ALLIES: One Sith, [member="Hal Terrano"]
ENEMIES: Omega Protectorate and friends; [member=HK-36]
OBJECTIVE: Regroup

There was a clap, a split of duracrete. It didn’t make sense as he saw it, no frame of reference from which to contextualize the little stairwell hut as it began to collapse around him. When he would replay it again in his head, he could almost swear that when the roof fell in and he could see the city beyond before the whole thing came down. Before he, himself, had fallen.

Something – be it the concussive force, sudden awareness of pain, or disintegration of structural integrity – caused Milo to lose his balance, and he tumbled backwards down the stairs, upon the platform from which the steps switched direction, and hit his head on the wall. It was as if someone had pulled the plug on a television – the golden line racing through the center of a black screen as the circuit had closed and the information ceased to be received.

He awoke but a few seconds later, not entirely oblivious, but not entirely aware as to what had just occurred. Idly, he fingered a wound in his side, playing with the squishiness of the blood on his armor, his shirt, and now his trousers, seeping lightly onto the duracrete floor below. When had he been shot? He never even heard the round…but, maybe…

There was a lot going on.

Awareness returned, and he pulled himself to his feet, groaning with the pain of waning shock and a side wound that demanded attention. He was no slouch, however. No prissy smuggler by nature. He could soldier on, if he needed to. Hobbling down the stairs, he undid his body armor – fat lot of good it did anyway – and cast it to the side. It just seemed too heavy for what it was worth. Finding his free hand still firmly gripping his bowcaster, he reslung the weapon upon his back, then pushed on the door to exit into the corridors to which the building hosted.

He pushed on the door.

He pushed on the door again.

Puzzled, he took a step back, fighting off the extinction of elementary conditioning as he scanned the instrument he no longer understood. Shaking off the daze, he finally read the sign “Pull,” complied, and gained entry.

Perhaps he’d hit his head harder than he thought.

Arbitrarily, he picked a door along the hall, kicking it in and moving inside. He drew his scattergun just incase, but found that, fortunately for both he and they, the typical occupants were vacant. He searched a few obvious cupboards and drawers, acquiring the bare minimum in his painkilling requisites, with which he took way more than the recommended dose, crunching the pills and jabbing the needles with passive interest, then took a seat to lick his wounds.

He was not out of the fight, no…but it would be a minute until he was back in.

 

[Sven Talith]

Temple Of The Valley of The Dark Lords
[member="Ember Rekali"]

At times, Sven had thought about purchasing some sort of heavier armor. In fact he had many times thought about wearing the very same armor that Mandalorians wore. He had certainly killed and met enough of the warriors to know just how effective the armor could be, of course such armor restricted movements quite heavily, and in the end his own armor was much more stylish and flexible, which was grand in his line of work.

Any who, as the massive slugs punched their holes through the thin sheet of durasteel Sven's eyes opened wide. Having only the reaction time of a mortal man he tried to move out of the way, launching himself against the wall but not quite moving fast enough.

One of the shots grazed him across the ribs.

His armor was sliced through like it was butter, the thick overlaying Armorweave standing no match for the high caliber slugs. He felt the bullet bite slide across the side of his ribs, cutting a huge gap within his flesh. He managed to mostly ignore the pain, holstering the stunner in one smooth motion and pulling a Thermal Detonator from the small tube on his back.

Sven primed the grenade, and then tossed it through one of the holes the massive slugs had formed.

Then he ran around the corner.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Temple of the Valley of the Dark Lords

[member="Sven Talith"]

Talith might be outside the reach of Ember's prescience, but when one felt one's potential futures turn to fire, one got motivated. The thermal detonator soared through the gap, and Ember dove -- not sideways, because there was nowhere to go; not back, because round things rolled; but forward. He slammed painfully into the bare floor beams, beneath the slope of the upturned floor, and a desperate, poorly-aimed thought accelerated the detonator behind him. The blast's heat toasted him right through his armor, and he scrambled back and upright, got one armored foot under him, and leaped in a flat arc-

Straight through the circular hole where the class-C thermal det's reaction sphere had introduced itself to the vault door. 'Hole' was putting it charitably. His ageing bones groaned in protest as he bulled through about half an inch of nearly molten metal, and flopped -- burnt but unbroken -- into the vault.

Aaralyn's memories had been fragmentary; he'd come away with two half-formed thoughts that might or might not relate to this place. Either it held the artifacts taken from the ruins of the Jedi Temple, or it held the Holocron of Darth Krayt. Possibly both, but Ember Rekali had never been that lucky.

 

[Linna Beorht]

SENATE BUILDING
[member="Countess of Báthory"]

The tilted Senate box turned right to face the spot where the Countess stood with her dogs. Hands restless and white-knuckled on the rail and her sonic servodriver, Linna tilted her head at a right angle to the floating pod.

"Titan! To whose immortal eyes the sufferings of mortality, seen in their sad reality, were not as things that gods despise; what was thy pity's recompense? A silent suffering, and intense; the rock, the vulture, and the chain, all that the proud can feel of pain, the agony they do not show, the suffocating sense of woe which speaks but in its loneliness, and then is jealous lest the sky should have a listener, nor will sigh until its voice is echoless."

The pod wound its way closer, to a minimum distance of perhaps three metres.

"It is the lot of the great to suffer when they choose to pity the weak."

 

[Sven Talith]

Temple Of The Valley of The Dark Lords
[member="Ember Rekali"]

The Assassin moved with slow lazy movements.

There was no reason to rush now, the man had entered the vault, a place that had only one exit. Even with high explosives it was unlikely that he could get out, given that a charge big enough to destroy the vaults walls would kill him simply from the pressure. So, lazily Sven moved forward, pressing down the thin durasteel plate that was now burned and scarred.

When he made it passed the plate he looked at the tiny opening with a look of absolute disapproval.
Letting out a loud sigh, Sven spoke up for the first time.

“Mando'ade.” The word came out perfectly with a hint of a Concord Dawn accent to it. “You're trapped. I have three more of those detonators and i'll gladly throw them in, even your armor can't survive that.”

As he spoke Sven unzipped his jacket halfway and pulled something from his pocket, a small bundled length of rope with a piece of metal on the end. He tied this around one of his hands, end over end as though it were bandages meant to protect his knuckles from punching a hard surface.

 

[Ordo]

LOCATION: SEALED THROWN ROOM
OBJECTIVE: DARK LORD
ALLIES: MANDOS AND OP
ENEMIES: DARK LORD AND SITHIES

The dark lord and mandalorian both pushed against the other until cracks formed beneath their feet. Eyes like buring embers faced eachother. The silence in the room became deafening as the warriors battled.

"Ready to die Mandalorian." The Dark Lord asked.

"Always Sith." Ordo replied.

The blades pulled back and both raised overhead, each a mirror of the other. The lord's saber came down at Ordo and Ordo's saber came up to block, then at the last moment Ordo extinguished his blade letting the crimson blade strike. His crushgaunt covered hand came up to grip the lords thick neck.

"We're done this charade." Ordo said calmly.

"Yes, put an end to it Ordo." The lord replied.

Ordo exhaled and ripped off his helmet as he squeezed the neck of the Dark Lord of the One Sith. The grey green eyes of Ordo turned to burnished gold as the Sith lords eyes lost their light and faded. The body no longer clinging to life left the cloak in Ordo's grasp.

He stood breathin heavily for a moment still reeling from the fight as he tried to reconcile his two halves. His lightsaber extinguished was returned to his belt as he replaced his cloak. The doors of the thrown room lifted allowing the guards to enter. Ordo sat back on his thrown finally finished with his mental struggle and reconciled to what he really was....the instrument of order for a torn galaxy.

"My Lord?" A guard said confused.

"Quiet and get me the voices." Ordo replied as he sat on the thrown of the One Sith.

[member="Darth Junra"] [member="Darth Mierin"] [member="Hal Terrano"][member="Cyrus Tregessar"][member="Sarge Potteiger"][member="Ayden Cater"][member="Canal Tal'Verda"][member="Ilsa Voll"][member="Tsavong Kraal"]@Animus@Drex Skyreaper[member="Countess of Báthory"][member="Sero Valrel"][member="Evard L'Rik"][member="Linna Beorht"][member="Ember Rekali"][member="Darth Nephthys"]@Dicer@Dicer@Menoetius

[member="Shargon'Ta"]@HK-36@HK-36@Kaida Taldir[member="Darth Banshee"][member="Salvor Arnex"][member="Mia Monroe"][member="Sarge Potteiger"][member="Darth Hauntruss"]@Cira@Tyger Tyger

 

[J3C0]

Imperial Palace
[member="Ordo"]

Mierin walked through the palace, her hair unkempt, her body uncovered save for a small scrap of cloth robe that clung over her bosom and hung down to her knees. Her lightsaber hung on the Amphistaff that wrapped itself around her waist and clung to her spine, its heads settled on her shoulders. She walked with long confident strides, her face filled with rage.

On her right shoulder hung a mechanical contraption, and on her left leg hung the same. A strange awful cybernetic arm that clashed white with her beautiful crimson skin.

The Hand of the Dark Lord walked into the Throne room. The first of them to arrive. Her face changed for only a moment, her eyes narrowing, her lips curling in a tight smile, her gaze then becoming almost worshiping. She looked up at the only man that now stood within the Throne Room, at the one person that was there.

Almost immediately she fell to one knee.

“My Lord.” The words rang out as her eyes sunk down towards the floor and away from the magnificent Titan, her lips curling into a smile.

 

[Nyos Val]

Location: Valley of Lords
Allies: [member="HK-36"]
Enemies: [member="Aleksandr Idruin"]

Nyos had been assigned to Commander Iron Knights' assault squad. He decided to break from the line and join the attack. Drawing his Ripper and his saber. He jumped out towards the Sith nearby. He roared a challenge to the young Sith, and started in on the boy. Jumping down from the same story as HK, he fired his Ripper full auto and held his saber back, intending to come down in in overhead strike.


This Sith is mine!!

 

[Ordo]

[member="Darth Mierin"]

Ordo activated the emergency city wide communicator.

"Good people of coruscant!" Ordo announced loudly, "This invasion upsets your peace. Do you see their desire for war. They have failed. I live and will not yield your world to warmongering children. I will bring you peace."

"Mierin...good." Ordo the Dark Lord said as he sat upon his thrown. "Rouse a defense and removed these Protectorate scum from our world. If you find [member="Ember Rekali"] bring him to me."

Ordo held out a hand and called his fallen helmet to his hand and rested it upon his knee as he sat. Eyes like fire beneath the black hood. They would not give this world to thugs and mercenaries while he still occupied the throne.


[member="Darth Junra"] [member="Darth Mierin"] [member="Hal Terrano"] [member="Cyrus Tregessar"] [member="Ayden Cater"] [member="Canal Tal'Verda"]Ilsa Voll [member="Tsavong Kraal"] [member="Animus"] [member="Drex Skyreaper"] [member="Countess of Báthory"] [member="Sero Valrel"] [member="Evard L'Rik"] [member="Linna Beorht"] [member="Ember Rekali"] [member="Darth Nephthys"] [member="Dicer"] [member="Menoetius"]

Shargon'Ta@HK-36@HK-36 [member="Kaida Taldir"] [member="Darth Banshee"] [member="Salvor Arnex"] [member="Mia Monroe"] [member="Sarge Potteiger"] [member="Darth Hauntruss"] [member="Cira"] [member="Tyger Tyger"]

 

[J3C0]

Imperial Palace
[member="Ordo"]

Mierin stared at the ground, her smile still on her face. When he spoke, she didn't move, she simply listened her new mechanical hand resting on her knees. When his order rang out, she stood without hesitation. There was no wait, no calm, no thinking, there was simply action. She rose in one sooth liquid motion, the white rag that covered her fluttering slightly as the open throne room carried a breeze. She gave him a curt nod, her gaze lingering for a moment more before she turned away from him

They would all burn.

The Sith Purebloods smile carried on her face as she moved all they way out of the palace. It was a quick journey from the Throne Room to the base of the construct. The Slayer Guards did not try to stop her, the Sith who still remained never even acknowledged her, they simply allowed the wild looking Sith Pureblood to pass unabated.

None dared stand in the Path of the Hand of the Dark Lord. She would carry out his commands without a moment of hesitation, follow the path he set out before her, as she had always done.

The Dark Lord truly was the most clever of them all.

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Location: Valley of the Dark Lords
Enemies: [member="Hal Terrano"]
Allies: [member="Ember Rekali"]
Objective: Kill all th-- ........... kill [member="Ordo"]

Another two explosive round slammed into the ground next to her, so close this time they picked her up off her feet and slammed her into the corner of the nearest statue she spun around it out of sight of her sith opponant. Winded and dazed she stayed slumped there for a heartbeat before pulling herself to her feet and shaking her head. "K'atini." she muttered to herself. She'd lost her scattergun, her vornskr had perished but she was no where near out of the fight. She felt the force aver around her, like it was just out of reach. Not a ysalamiri, she pushed through it.

"Rally Master" She called into her comm, pulling her beskad free from the sheath on her back. "Din'karytay?"

"We're in position." Came the response. "Bral will be live in--"

They were cut off as a planetwide broadcast filtered through her helmet.

"Good people of coruscant! This invasion upsets your peace. Do you see their desire for war. They have failed. I live and will not yield your world to warmongering children. I will bring you peace."

Time slowed about her. She knew that voice, but it couldn't be. She reached out to find [member="Ordo"] but only darkness responded. She drew back, a hand reaching to the staute to steady herself. No, not him, not her brother. Not the man with whom she had entrusted. They were supposed to destroy the sith together.

"Field Marshall Monroe! Field Marshall! LIBERATOR!"

Mia snapped out of her daze. "Y-yes?"

"What the feth was that, tell me that wasn't Ordo!"

"It was him." her voice sounded harsh, torn with emotion.

"What do we do?"

"Activate the bral in ten minutes, from my mark." she set a timer on her heads up. "Mark."

"Who are we fighting?"

"THE SITH, DAMNIT!"

She cut off the communication. She should have seen this coming, why didn't she see it coming? She looked down at the beskad in her hand, and adjusted her grip, rage burning in her soul. The statue next to her began to groan as she wrapped her fury around it. Cracks began to appear around it base. Mia turned away, yanking it as she did. It toppled, its weight slamming into the next statue.

Ember, Ordo has betrayed us. The telepathic message was brief but edged with her rage, and for a moment there was nothing else, then,

Force null in eight minutes. I'm going for him.

Mia didn't wait for a response, turning to the temple roof top, a force leap carried her up. She cast a glance back at her opponent, she'd deal with him later, before breaking into a sprint that carried her to the far side of the roof and away from this fight.

 

[Teroch Gra'tua]

[member="Yusan Fenn"]

Location: Heading towards old senate building with Yusan
Allies: OP & Yusan Fenn
Enemies: One Sith

Teroch nodded as [member="Yusan Fenn"] gave him his orders, to follow him on a so called "suicide mission", only prompting a shrug from the man as he grabbed his revolver again, only to start spinning with his index finger. As much as it looked as if he was showing off, it was merely habit, back in his younger years it definitely was showing off, but now it was a bad habit, like poping your fingers, only he had never gotten out of it "That's all, I'm guessing? No more troopes to help us or is this just something that needs to be done quickly?" Teroch's revolver finally stopped spinning, coming to a rest where his index finger was on the rear sights, before he holstered the weapon.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

TEMPLE IN THE VALLEY OF LORDS

[member="Sven Talith"] (cc: [member="Ordo"])

"Well, kid, I got three answers for ya, in roughly ascendin' order of compellingness. First one's pretty basic: odds are pretty good at this range that I can glue those dets to your hand, maybe set'em off from here, maybe just stall'em as they come through. Baradium's a fool's toy.

"Secondlymost, I'm holding the holocron of Darth Krayt, so let's be smart about what'll ensure your continued existence.

"An' thirdly, the voice that just broadcast through my comm, your comm, an' every comm around, that Dark Lord you love so dear, I trained him. Loved him like a brother. Trained his daughter too. Now he's pulled the big reveal, he'll want me dead or beside him, an' I think that's a decision your boss will want to make for himself. At a guess."

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Location: Valley of the Lords
Enemies: [member="Ilsa Voll"], [member="Ember Rekali"]
Allies: [member="Sven Talith"]

As the ray shields snapped to life, Orcus felt a searing pain in his feet. He leaped clumsily and fell off the tank right into the permacrete. The shields had burned straight through his boots and burned away a good centimeter or three of flesh. The Herglic groaned where he lay, summoning Kite with a cry in the Force.

The Drexl swooped down from on high, scooping up the Herglic with massive claws and surging upward. Soon, both were airborne and flying far away from the tank and its occupants.

Orcus could smell the acrid tang of his burning feet, but even now the orbalisks worked to heal his wounds. Still, it would be some time before he could stand without agony. He directed his mount to carry him to the valley of the Lords, where it deposited him near the end of the valley at the statues of Krayt and Talon.

Grimacing in pain, he stood uneasily, black eyes focused on the cracks webbing across the statue of Talon. He quested out, sensing... something. Not Jedi. Curious.

 

[Sven Talith]

Valley of the Dark Lords
[member="Ember Rekali"]

“First of all, a force using Mandalorian? Really? Come on.” Sven rolled his eyes, and then continued on. “Second, don't care about some stupid Holocron. They only ever cause trouble.”

Sven scowled and looked beneath the mask, yes he had in fact heard the announcement and honestly, he didn't care. The Dark Lord didn't really mean anything to Sven, he was simply making sure that his people survived, that Byss thrived and moved along. This was little more to him than a job to secure the planet of Byss away from the One Sith, to make sure that his people thrived.

“Third....Yeah you're probably right but...” Sven said as he thumbed the Thermal Detonators primer with his rope covered hand.

His lips turned down for a moment.

“How do you propose we do this? I can't exactly trust you now can I? I let you out of there, you pop me in the face, and boom run amok.” The Mandalorian could very well be trying to trick Sven, and he didn't really want to get shot or die. “I'm afraid were at an impasse.”

 

[Bastian Briareos]

LOCATION: Palace
ALLIES: One Sith
ENEMIES: Omega Protectorate & Allieshttp://starwarsrp.net/user/1103-hk-36/
OBJECTIVE: Hold the line!

[member="Azrael"] [member="Darth Mierin"] [member="Ordo"]

Bastian stalked along a shadowy hall. A dozen or so soldiers following him. The Omegan offensive was a surprise. They fought a war on two fronts now, truly testament to their military resources. They won't' carry the day so easily though. This was the gem in the crown. And the fight would be horrendous and bloody. He'd make sure of that. A rumble crawled up through his feet to the base of his neck. A large explosion went of somewhere nearby. That was no deterrent for him, near wasn't directly on him now. The throne room was up ahead, it gave them a shot cut to the main perimeter defenses, and five minutes saved walking was always nice. 'I picked a rotten time to be here'. He wished to curse to the heavens but that was out of the question. He needed to hold his namesake. Bastian and his men entered the throne room from a side passage. He halted the march as he saw someone sat upon the throne. And another kneeling in front of the armored man. The kneeler took off after a short time. He eyed her as she passed. And one more glance to the armored man was all he cared to give attention to. "Lets move men. We've a building to defend". Bastian snapped his fingers and his men began to move down the way the Sith had gone.

 

[Azrael]

Location: Inbound to the Imperial Palace
Allies: Mando'ade and Omega Protectorate
Enemies: Dar'jetti and friends; [member="Bastian Briareos"]
Objective: Reinforce and Take the Palace



Ever since news of the calamity of Coruscant had reached the holonet and the Galaxy at large, the Mando'ade had been itching for battle. The simple purging of the New Order had not done enough to slate the thirst for Sith blood on their besk'ed blades. Most of the New Order had deserted the small faction in favor of this conglomeration of Sith Lords following a shadowy figure in whom they pledged full allegiance.

One Sith to rule them,
One Sith to guide them,
One Sith to bring them all together
- and -
One Sith to paint a big red bulls-eye on their new home planet, and reign down the might of the Galaxy on their forces.

With the invasion of Alderaan being the next immediate threat to the Republic - the call to arms from the Omega Protectorate only spurred on the vigor and might of the Mando'ade to marshal their forces and rally to the call of some trusted allies at the other end of the Galaxy. Coruscant couldn't be covered by the Sith if they planned to also capitalize on their new home world and defend it against a combined assault. The battle had begun en masse, escalating with feverish resolve among the various participants with vehement passion. The Valley of the Lords had already replaced the long standing edifice of the Jedi Temple, a hallmark to the Republic's centralized core governmental body. Azrael himself had never been to Coruscant proper - although he certainly knew about it. Anyone who had ever watched a holo-feed, or had learned remedial history of the Galaxy itself knew of Coruscant - or as the Mando'ade called it Coruscanta. This massive ecumenopolis glittering with golden light from the viewpoint of space was massive. Far larger than Manda'yaim and bursting with life in every sector and sub sector of the planet. Taris was something of the same condensed population sense, but nowhere near the grand majesty of this city planet of the deep core.

Magnanimous fleeting vessels filled the skies above, with their thousand plus meter long ships steering into a conflict above the planet itself, Azrael had opted for a far more covert strike team in which he was bringing to the party. He detested the idea of fleeting, as he was far more used to a very hands on display of action. The Ca'prudii was a smart choice however to bring the Field Marshal towards the planet itself. The speed of the craft only outmatched by few ships in the Galaxy was an obvious asset, as was the deeply cloaked presence of his stealth craft. Even with the anti-stealth technology in existence, it was one of the few he'd seen that could keep pace and stay off of the radar without using stygium enhancements to actually vanish from visual sight. Still he had to be careful and keep a low profile as the epicenter of violence and mayhem was centered around two very important structures. With the majority of the vode on the ground were centered at the Valley of the Lords, Azrael had opted to take a strike team to the Imperial Palace to secure it away from the dar'jetti and reinforce their victory with the Omega Protectorate.

:: Night Shadow coming in for a direct route. Ori'vod, keep those dogs busy, I'm hitting the Palace. :: The secure line echoed to that of his big brother [member="Ordo"] while the auto pilot was engaged and swung around, opening up the landing ramp. Soon after, the hovering ship let out five Snake-eyes tumblers from it's aft and into the air. All five dark vehicles hit the sky in hover-mode and blade towards the city streets. Up front, and flying in 'V' formation was Azrael gripping the yoke and steering down. That's when the first bouts of low-flying anti-aircraft began to bombard the pack. A quick two finger gesture simultaneously sent message to his riding party to split up into evasive maneuvers, while also signaling the ship to take off and find safe harbor. Jerking the yoke to the left, Azrael veered off course, going into a barrel roll with the bike and dancing across the heavy turbo-laser fire the peppered the air space, and danced along his view screens. The engines whined of the metal steed he rode, as he went into a full nose dive taking refuge behind a few buildings. Attempting to alter the tracking pattern of each turbo-laser until he could get passed it and get a clear runway towards the ground. Taking the alternate route, the bikes split up and began to peel around the sector, coming from different angles and using a strafe pattern to answer the volley of lasers with their own, leveling laser cannon fire right back at the heavy artillery fixed on the ground.

As a distraction, the vode circled, in both a clock-wise and counter clock-wise pattern around the turrets which allowed a straight shot for Azrael to blaze through and level off his two rockets at the base of each turret rendering them inert and smoking heaps. The formation quickly coming to land on the runway of the streets below on the main level. Wheels unfolding and hitting pavement as the repulsor engines went offline and the bikes rode towards the Imperial palace. The next selection of fortification though was far more dangerous, and inherently more fun for the vode. Live targets. A dozen Sith imperials leapt over blockades and began to use rapid fire weapons to let out a barrage of light towards the bikes. His besk'ed was drawn from the side holster and Azrael whipped the bike around letting the business end of his blade speak against the volley of laser weapons. Slicing into the flesh and bone and ripping them apart as the ultra-chrome armor of the bikes shrugged off the pot shots of other Sith in his way. The congestion of defense was getting more clogged, which only meant one thing..he was getting closer.

 

[Caulder Dune]

TEMPLE IN THE VALLEY OF LORDS

[member="Sven Talith"] | [member="Ember Rekali"]

After losing the entirety of the Sith Archives to a warthog and a disgruntled librarian, Tyrin had become somewhat protective of Sith knowledge and history. Someone, anyone, had to keep these records preserved. Judging from the trail of dead temple guards left through this place, brutally slain from throwing knives, someone and anyone were not doing a very good job. What tiresome, miserable times are upon us when Darth Janus emerges to reinforce the second-to-last line of defense against the abduction of the One Sith's signature holocron.

The Mandalorian, a Force Sensitive (how astonishingly peculiar), was engaged in conversation with an agent. That this one survived where others had failed to do so was somewhat commendable, but commendations could wait until after the Holocron of Darth Krayt was safely out of the hands of this thieving mongrel.

"I don't quite care what arrangement you two come to down here." Tyrin scowled as he approached, making no concerted effort to conceal himself for once. "But for the love of everything, put that holocron down."

The loss of the Temple Guards was already an aggravation. No need to make it worse.

 

[Tyger Tyger]

LOCATION: Valley of the Lords periphery
ALLIES: One Sith, [member="Hal Terrano"]
ENEMIES: Omega Protectorate and friends; [member="Mia"] Munroe
OBJECTIVE: Back to work

Break time was over, and we found the privateer standing in somebody’s kitchen, his bowcaster pointed at the wall with explosives ready to go.

KABOOM.

The permacrete decimated, the scorched refrigerator equivalent fell, damned to the subcity Hell below, taking with it some countertop, some silverware. Tyger Tyger looked out over the massive opening to find the raised platform to the Valley of the Lords and the grand fall which separated him from it.

For the moment, anyway. He returned his gun to his back and cracked his knuckles.

The painkillers had squelched his agony, but it was his stoic nature that did most of the work. He was Sith Military, after all. He had seen men forcibly run until heat stroke, then get up and continue, mid-seizure, back into its arms again and again, until their brain boiled with blisters -- all in a desperate effort to avoid failure before their superiors. He did not pat himself on the back for such hardness. It simply was. The pain was an alarm indicating he was still alive.

And that there was work to be done.

A former pilot, heights offered no terror. Amassed in shatterpoints, neither did death. We chess pieces moved on our own.

He leapt the metropolitan chasm, his grip catching a girder on the other side. Gravity tugged upon his mid-section, traumatizing his wound and forcing a grunt from his throat. His eyelids clenched tight and he pulled himself up, bending at his elbows in 90 degree angles, and stabilizing himself against the cruel rocking.

But soon, it was over. He opened his eyes again to find the pain once more endurable; the jump, survived. His fitness more than up to the task, he maneuvered himself to a lower girder so that, with some balance, he may walk.

Slowly, but surely, Tyger Tyger made his way to the Temple.