Invasion Iron Rain | EE Invasion of TSE-held PL-40112-CE-021105

[Dash Typho]

Allies: Eclipse Rebellion
Enemies: All Imperials
Units: [3/4] X-Wing Thunderhawks, [8/8] M1 Starfighters
Attn: Vidalu Na'an Will Westender Shavara Loreena Arenais-Valhoun Adelle Bastiel Grand Moff Aut-X​

Dash watched in partial amazement, partial shock as the ship ahead of him snapped backwards mid-flight, altering it's course and seemingly head for a collision with him. He pulled his joystick to the side, twirling his X-Wing in the air to avoid it. "Holy-" As he attempted to recover, his entire fighter suddenly was shaken by stray fire from his underside, the pilot in the other starfighter somehow managing to have slipped under him and get several shots off. Easing his thrusters, Dash pulled the joystick at an angle, sending his ship into a deep turn before he pressed on the throttle, shunting it forward in it's new direction. "Jester, how am I looking on the belly?" He asked, requesting one of his wingmen to give him a sit-rep on the damage he'd taken.

"It'll scar, Commander, but your still good." J-2 responded.

"Poor baby. All points, be advised, the pilots behind these aren't just your run-of-the-mill carbon copies. They've got some skill. That, or they're droids. Thirty credits on the later."

"I'll take that be-" J-5 began, before they yelled out over their comm-unit, followed by a shuttering and explosion, before it went silent. Out on his side, Dash could see an X-Wing engulfed in flames, headed into a direct nose-dive for the ground. Damn it.

He maneuvered his fighter near the top of the tree canopy, using a combination of his fighter's superior speed and his skill to attempt to avoid the incoming fire. His comm-unit would crackle to life as a new channel opened, directly to a ground unit. "Way ahead of you there, buddy."

"I'm counting a way more than a single empire in the skies right now, plus enough firepower between them to dust us, themselves, and maybe even a third party-crasher if they felt like it. I'm a bit-" His cockpit shuddered at another hit, "-occupied at the moment. But don't worry, Jester will have you covered. J-6, J-7, J-3, make a B-line for the outpost and wave a hello!"

The three X-Wing Thunderhawks cut off from their pursuits and cut towards the outpost at low angles, firing off barrages of harassment fire in order to bring the attention towards the skies, away from some of the rebels on the ground.

OOC: Onrai , could you link your ships in your next post.​

 

[Broka the Hutt]

Allies: Taozi Fuyuan Tiberius Bayne Sterling Kinslayer Marlon Sularen
Enemies: Ellie Mors Thaelius Eldaah Aderyn Taeli Raaf
Objective: Complete the Contract
Ships: Hutt Chelandion (Quantity: 1), Kesselian Blockade Runner (Quantity, 5)

The reason for why Broka sent his ships across the galaxy was to make profit off of the warlike, and lucratively pragmatic, Eternal Empire. His worry of not losing any ships is still lingering in the back of Broka's mind, yet the success of the effort so far was irrefutable. The first three ships to run past the Sith fleet's formation were successfully landed, and were unloading the goods promised currently. The last two ships for the troop reinforcements were the second gambit for success. Now they were deeper in the range of the guns of the ominous Vong ships. All the while, the commanding Chelandion hung back at the far reaches of the system at a distance good enough to see the blockade runners via the tracking systems, but comfortably out of range from the more dangerous weaponry the Sith fleet could have. The exotic ships were unpredictable, and Broka sat in his Nar-Shaddaa sky palace snacking away while observing the efforts of his organization's members, and observing how they react to the strange vessels. The historically uneducated crew members seemed unfazed, just mumbling about the "fancy Sith ships", while a small handful of the older "officers" on the bridge showed concern. They were of the generation of the Vong war. It was good they were worried, but still followed his orders. Their loyalty to their master was truly absolute. Broka, as a result of this conclusion in his mind, reclined in his viewing chair. His holo-projection on the Chelandion's bridge showing this reclining to the men operating the vessel.

The blockade runners made their way closer to the planet's orbital region. Their route made the trip from the original position to the planet take longer, but the indirectness may be less threatening, harder to shoot at, and most importantly easier to ignore. The fleet of the Eternal Empire's Grand Admiral was taking a beating, but that did not matter to Broka. It just showed that the Sith ships were occupied, and not focusing on his ships movements as much, if at all.

Then the report came that the three ships were finished unloading the cargo. Being ahead of schedule was good. The faster Broka could order his ships out of the system after completing the contract, the better. The captain looked to the projection of Broka for the order. Broka gave a nod of approval, and the captain said into the comms, "You are permitted to launch back to the main fleet position. However, do not leave the atmosphere until the other two ships have finished unloading their loaded soldiers. We need to leave this system all at once."

The comms were challenged by the jammers of the Eternal Empire's fleet. However, the Imperials granted Broka's comms the same communication frequencies as the Imperials so their comms are not jammed. However, they had to watch what they said. The Imperials were listening. The comms are a lot more cordial, and business sounding than normal to provide a more professional image to the Imperial fleet. There would be only one way to find out if that plan would work, and that is afterwards. Now, Broka just had to wait. Wait for all the blockade runners to be done with their tasks. It is now only minutes before the other two runners broke through the atmosphere.

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Ingrid L’lerim
The Red Witch; Emperor's hand; Director of Blackwatch; Baroness of Vengard​

Location: Observation Post, Floral Research Hub Aurek, integrated into exterior walls.
Equipment: Assassin armor with this look | Black blade lightsaber | Red blade lightsaber shoto | 2x vibroblades | Stealth field generator
Tags: AMCO | Open

Background music:
Elena Siegman – Abracadavre​

She didn’t want this war…

”Sounds tempting” she purred.

It sounded like a really tempting offer, for what she had thanks to the Force entity was nowhere near as effective. True she could change everything with it – voice, look, size, shape, even her sex too – but a strong Forceuser could see through it. And she was also glad of this because it meant that they would still see each other. Ingrid nodded seriously at the remark, she agreed perfectly with this. She didn't really stay near when things got worse. But, it was her Emperor.

<”If you need help my Lord, just let me know and I'll be there, my secret task is secondary in this case. Your life and Empire are more important!“> she sent a message to Kainan Wolfe , through the Force, complete calm and coldness was felt only from Ingrid during the telepathic message.

”I agree, but I haven't had a chance to map the base yet so I have to rely on you. Where are we going? Let's go to the hangar and take you out of here in a disguised ship or do we simply leave the base and pull ourselves into the jungle until things get better out there?” she asked aloud, while sending the telepathic message at the same time.

Fortunately it went easily for her too so no one could notice what she was doing. Ingrid managed to impress the man with her disappearance, so far Adrian hadn't really seen it all, she acknowledged to herself, only when she appeared. She took note of the unspoken words, thoughts, or emotions, mostly with a smile. In the way Adrian messaged her before now she sent back a soft laugh.

”I think we can teach each other a lot” she replied purring this time in telepathic words.

Adrian really wasn’t a master of stealth and hiding, Ingrid stated this. For the supply closet door squeaked loudly after what Adrian had done, Ingrid sighed, but so far the four rebels had arrived. She would have tried to carry out the silent and invisible death to do this, she positioned herself to be able to finish all four at once, but after the short interlude, Adrian did the woman's work. It was the first time she had seen the man killed not to mention that it seemed much more effective than what he did on Wayland.

”I love when a man can protect himself, but you missed that handsome!” she “said”.

Without looking at the door she made a very elegant but firm throwing gesture towards the stairwell. The vibroblade flew away and a thud was heard as the fifth soldier lay dead, the blade stood right in his forehead. She just pointed her hand to move on, when she reached the rebel's body, she pulled the vibroblade out of the man's head and entered the stairwell. Since they were deep enough they had to move upwards anyway, she started carefully and slowly, waiting for Adrian. The next few levels were able to climb undisturbed until they reached the part that had already been torn apart by the blast that had taken place above. Fortunately the door worked here as well, but it wasn't nearly pleasant that there was the sound of shots, shouts and fighting from outside.

”Should we go out here or go back to a lower level and avoid the affected area? If that's possible ... You know the base.” she asked telepathically.

She didn’t want this war…

​

 

[Ardana Vorco]

Benûwia Antares / Darth Xanesh / Ireria Antares
Sith sorcerer, alchemist, historian, member of the Primyn Group​

Location: Landing Zone, PL-40112-CE-021105
Equipment: Red blade lightsaber (Benûwia) | Red blade lightsaber (Ireria) | Multispectrum disguise suite
Tags/Attention: Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax
Allies: Rae Cooke | Adriana Fortemps | TSE and allies
Enemies: EE and allies | Eclipse Rebels

Background music:
Cross Borns – Tűz és vér (Fire and blood)​

Xanesh knew exactly that it wouldn’t be long before they realized what she was doing. Now it would have been best if someone had rushed to her aid and helped maintain the Force ability. She missed the time when several sorcerers away from the battlefield did these things together, if either fell, tired, or killed by someone, the ritual was not broken. She was alone now, who would have been able to do that here, she was with the fleet around the planet or the man just fighting with the dictator at the base.

For what she was prepared for, she could no longer pay much attention to her future disciple either only to those who have decided to try to come closer and probably kill her. Now it should have been those who fought in front of her and blocked the way of the enemy, many soldiers. But they were not in large numbers here and she did not want to bother by summoning demons or spirits. She hated surprise invasions, especially when she was on the side of the surprised.

And the child came back and landed beside her, now Xanesh didn't have time and strength to answer, she only acknowledged with a nod what the girl had said. She had to let go of the storm in order to do more damage to the armies of the Eternal Empire. Although they may feel it backwards, she sent another dose of negative emotion into the storm through the Force, and finally let the Force Storm go. The storm was now starting to send lightnings everywhere uncontrollably. It had already fed itself, perhaps it might have seemed to have gotten stronger thanks to no one keeping it under control.

She reached out again to the Force and began to use the accumulated energies to change the environment. The depths of the earth began to growl, then the earth moved first only under the woman and the girl. The soldiers had already raised their weapons to the pair when they suddenly stopped in embarrassment. The earth began to move first weakly and then more strongly, strong enough to balance to stay on your feet. The quake could be felt not only in the landing area, but also in the back at the outpost. The objects began to tremble, the building squeaked, even during the duel of Kainan Wolfe and Darth Prazutis the ground shook under their feet.

”Command our people backwards” she tells the girl.

Further focused, helping with all hand gestures the ground cracked, at first only under the soldiers close to them and swallowed them up immediately. Then began to spread in a thin strip towards the landing zone and the outpost…


TL;DR:
- Force storm released, which thus became temporarily stronger, lightnings zigzag everywhere.
- due to the Alter Environment. an earthquake also started in the landing zone and the outpost
- the soil ground the landing zone has already opened up a bit

​

 

[AMCO]

Location: Observation Post, Floral Research Hub Aurek, integrated into exterior walls.
Objective: Stay out of danger as the goons repel the "cultist" rebel Eternal Imperial incursion.
Equipment: Tactical Turtleneck & G1 OmniLink | Shield Talisman & Shadow's Folly | SIB-14 | Stealth Field Generator
Appearance: Wearing a white lab coat over a black turtleneck and trousers; rancor-leather boots.
Ground Forces: 200/200 Karza'Arana Warriors (Reserve) | 4/4 Karza'Arana Darksworn (Honour Guard)
Writing With: Ingrid L'lerim | [OPEN]
---

It seemed Ingrid was severely underestimating the effort he put into securing his continuing survival, and so Adrian simply shook his head, tilting his head upwards, or rather skywards. "My ride's up there, actually - I never enter a warzone without an avenue of escape and so it's on standby, has been for quite a while. All we need is an open space big enough for a small shuttle."

Easy enough, no? The quartet of dead rebels lying in front of of the Sith Lord mere minutes later belied that expectation...

... as did the one he had missed, the one who promptly perished from a vibroblade to the forehead, courtesy of his invisible companion.

Briefly turning back to the terrified researcher hiding in a broom closet, Adrian winked, facial features briefly twisting into their original shape. "You're welcome, now get the hell out of here, you were supposed to have cleared about before the "cultist" attack."

Not pausing to see if the man followed his instructions or not, the Dark Councilor moved to follow Ingrid, climbing several flights of stairs undisturbed before reaching an exit, the stairs leading to the roof being covered with debris after... the situation Moff Tithe now had under control? Something else? It was hard to be sure in such a clusterfeth.

"The roof would be ideal, but we'd have to find another passage, which would mean going down again. Certainly not the worst opt..." Pausing as he felt a distant spike of power and then both heard and felt the ground trembling, Adrian let loose another long-suffering sigh.

"... or not. Front door it is, then, unless you feel like gambling on the structural integrity of reinforced ruins?"

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Equipment: Double-Bladed Lightsaber [Red Crystal] | Armored Sith Robes | Retractable Wrist-Blade
Allies: TSE and Allies
Enemies: EE and Allies
First Phase Enemy (Planned): Rurik Fel
Location: Observation Post, Beyond the Trenches
Forces: Sixty Cognus Legion Soldiers | Stationed inside Interior Vista | Armed with "Extinguisher" Precision Pulse Cannons and KS-04s
Post Title: Power
Post Theme: Terror

---

Such was the speed at which the battle had been moving to this point that Kascalion had failed to register the immediate responding attack the Knight had dealed upon losing his hand. Only now does Kascalion fully realize the second mark on his chest, this one deeper, but not fatally so. The pain was intense upon this realization, adding to that which already existed because of the spell he had cast. It was a pain worse than any wound he had suffered before. Festering and riddled with oozing maggots, stretched by the plague within him.

Challenging death. A great risk. A painful success.

The Devil's eyes widen somewhat at the speed in which the Knight dispatches the undead, but it matters not. They were merely there to wear the man down, lower his strength, bring out his emotions, open him up for a strike. But that comes soon. As he fights the risen, Kascalion takes the few moments that has been granted to him to remove the last of the auxiliaries, but not with the blade. Streams of plagued lightning spark forth from his hands vine-like, striking and rapping at the soldiers serving the Knight. Flesh chars like kindling and bodies fall to the diseased earth as shriveled husks, their very essence ripped from their hearts to empower the Devil whose visage began to reshape itself into something beyond human.

A power had been awakened in his chest. A monstrous and dreadful power of days long since stricken from the histories. A power of dead gods and broken civilizations. The ground beneath him blackens to brittleness as his electric assault continues to spew and fork against his foes. The knight had more than his share of soldiers to his name, but they still could not last against the man who now enveloped himself in a shield of pure corrupted lightning. This was his being. His moment. His time.

And yet. a grave memory comes back to him from his screaming subconscious, a comment from a man he almost is.

-You will fight and you will slaughter and you will reach power untold among the pain you will suffer.
​

The Devil's eyes narrow and his brows furrow as he suddenly stops his assault. That voice is silent as he attacks, but he knows, or begins to know. His time comes, yes. But not the one he hopes for. The destined bump in the road. The blockade of death. His heart quickens with a croaking beat each second. A buzzing hum enters his ear canals as he awaits it.

Shall it be the Knight? Or someone else? Who shall end me this day?

He ignites his weapon just as his foe reaches him with an elegant double-attack, blocking the first with the primary blade and deflecting the follow-up with his secondary blade. "Not you," he grunts as his magenta-gem eyes meet the taunting gaze of the man seemingly impervious to pain. The Devil attempts a series of helicopter-like strikes, leaping and bounding over and around and under with each one, hoping to wear down the man's defense, to find some opportunity to cut hi-

His mind suddenly flashes with images of the man as they re-engage, quick mental effigies of the man being as powerful and as skilled as the most renowned Sith and Jedi. "You are strong and you will become stronger. But it is not you who kills me this day," he proclaims mid-slashes.

Kascalion ceases his assault on the wall of a man, stopping mere inches from him. The power within surges back to life from its momentary slumber and in instant, a vast crackling darkness flows forth from the Devil's palm that is shunted towards the man's face. According to the histories now dust in lost tombs, this power's effects are recorded as vile and permanently damaging. The air around the two becomes a vacuum, chilled and burning and electrified and suffocating all at once. It is a forbidden power, even among those that originated it, a power of utter, consuming void.

And accompanying this abominable casting of malefic energy, a roar echoes out from within the crackling darkness: "Gaze into the Twilight!"

 

[Orion Darkstar]

Allies: TSE
Enemies: NIO | Attackers
Intent to Write With: Cedric
Objective: Kill them with words.
Forces: x4 Warghest | x4 Qyazik Dziri | x16 Imperial Legionnaires, Part of the 33rd Battalion | Major General Gill Shrewd

"Stoe Äert Feier!"

It was always unwise to play by an opponents game, especially one that gave up pieces on the chess board of war. Every pawn mattered, sometimes more so than that of the Bishop or Queen. When Orion heard the order, he was almost amused at the sight. The castration of gunfire allowed Orion's own men to follow along. This gave time for both sides to protect and heal their wounded. The room fell silent afterwards. The battle-hardened men and women from both sides of the conflict, were forced by their superiors to just stare blankly from across the room. The tension could kill, but before that was allowed more words needed to be exchanged. ​

"If I am to die here, then I welcome it. An honorable death has eluded me for decades, I am Cedric Grayson. You face the Sons of Ession. We are a warrior people, not unlike your own, but yours took our home from us, and so we are here. "

Took their home? Orion bit down hard, his teeth slightly grating at the thought. For Orion, home was a broken concept, overshadowed by the power and influence of his criminal father. If Cedric's purpose was to reclaim or avenge his precious home, it would be futile. No words could get Orion to understand that pain. In fact, Orion's pain was a far deeper concept. A concept, that throughout his younger years were endured by every possible form of vile maltreatment. It was his mind that his father wanted to break, but it ultimately was the heart that gave first. Cedric could try, but words about home were a numbing agent to someone like Orion. Even so, a simple thought crept through the sealed away darkness.

Home. At least they had one. They know nothing of the truth. Home... there is no such thing as home.

Orion's expression remained blank and pale, but his eyes dressed themselves in a hue of light orange as they pierced through the helmet of the Jedi. It was rude to talk while another continued, so he allowed another wave of pawky words to flow from Cedric's mouth.


"I am honored to meet you, Orion. Know that I have no quarrel with your or your soldiers. I have no desire to see innocents dead, and that is what you and your men are to me. You simply stand between us and your emperor. It is he with whom we bear our grudge. I will say I am pleased that you wish to speak, even if you believe you are only humoring me. Most children of the Bogan are too intoxicated by its seductions to do much more than throw themselves on our swords."

Orion listened, the only way he would be able to have a real conversation was to do exactly as the Jedi stated, humor him. Cedric saw them as innocent, it was a surprising testimony, but Orion knew the truth. Another was struck, the emperor. It was a shame that so many sought after the colossal king of The Sith Empire. He had given so much. In Orion's point of view, he allowed a young man to free himself. Darth Carnifex took in someone that was once innocent and found him a master to guide him. Sure, the process didn't fit well with Orion, but the darkside...oh, the darkside greeted him like a loving mother nursing him back to health. He was a natural, superior in dark magics that had eluded many sith for decades. Of course, those above him provided more growth in such an area. These very things were a product of what stood at his side. Creations like a Warghest, molded to his own specifications. It was a gift, one that continued to deliver a wholesome life. It was this that the Jedi wouldn't understand, even if spoken.

The only other thing Orion caught out of the hallow words was the mention of Bogan, once again. A moon, that surrounded the planet of Tython. Orion thought back to the other praise of Ashla. It too, was a moon that encompassed the Tython System.

Does he worship the moons?

"Tell me, Mister Darkstar, why is it that you choose to stand between my warriors and their abuser?"

Orion wasted no time, his response quickly finding purpose.

"Abuser..." Orion lifted his hand from the Warghest and pressed back his long black hair. "Cedric, you speak of home like it was always there to comfort you. Always willing to offer you something that no other place could. Does your complacency in one place, have little room for another?" Orion's demeanor changed as the face of a scarred warrior was revealed. It was the price you paid for dealing with The Sith Empire. Were the scars all they're doing? Probably not, but it seemed the deepest scar was the sacking of their contemporary home on Ession. "You're so quick to accuse my Emperor, have you not considered the provocations by your own people. I wasn't there myself, but the stories leading up to the enslavement of your precious home," Orion cracked a wicked smile, his eyes reading the story on Cedric's face. "You continued to attack us, is that not a form of abuse, Cedric?"

Orion let his hand fall laggardly to the side. The warghest grew impatient, a low growl filling its throat.

"Did your precious moons tell you to come seeking vengeance? You say that Bogan is at the source of our dissonance. A moon, the source of our never-ending war." Orion lightly chuckled, his voice grew cold. "Are you mocking me?"​

Template Made By: Annasari ​

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Observation Post
Objective: 1
Enemies: Loreena Arenais-Valhoun R Reyn Australis Kascalion Giedfield TSE
Allies: EE, NIO Rurik Fel

For a moment of utter clarity, a moment of triumph as the black blades penetrate the woman. A sense of peace came to the dark warrior, his eyes blazed with yellow. Consumed by the Bogen, the Dark Side. A rush of energy went through him. He didn't respond to the woman's comments. Only moving forward and on ahead. When he saw what he had done, a mysterious apparition had appeared to him. A blue woman clad in Jedi robes, a light that appeared all around, but this was a spirit that had only made itself known to him, hardly seen by anyone else. It could be seen as if he had been a madman. He stood there gazing at the spirit. The spirit not seen since Mygeeto. But can only be seen as Jedi Knight Miran Kyrel... His Mother. The woman looked upon Kyrel with a gentle face, one of compassion one of which she had always held for him, for so long a caring and loving look, the one a Mother held for a child for so long.

"It is time you learned my Son... Your final steps do not end with the death of a Jedi, nor the final battle with one. But with the true enemy. The one that seeks the destruction of everything you hope and care for. Remember what can also destroy, can also heal." Despite even having a usual retort for the meddling of his mother. Kyrel only stood there, in the specter that came before him. He felt his anger dissipate. Recognizing what he must do, as he saw that the day of his death had perhaps come after all. That his destiny had indeed finally arrived for him. Stepping forward slowly to the girl, standing above her badly wounded body. He contemplated his Mother's words. There was a slight moment of hesitation, of one where anger had threatened to take hold. That the only way of silence it would be to strike down the Jedi before him. Yet for the first time in many years, he did not. Remembering her words carefully. He knelt down to the girl. Placing his hands on both her head and the wound. Focusing on nothing but the Living Force. Not requiring the use of his anger, he relied solely on peace. On nothing but the Force itself. He recited silently to himself. "I am one with the Force, the Force is with me... I am one with the Force. The force is with me.. I am one with the Force... The Force is with me." Using the knowledge that he had learned from many perspectives of the Force. He began to take some of his own life force and put it into her. Channeling it through, and increasing it with the use of the mantra. Slowly her wounds began to close, and he could feel her breathing increase. To his enemies perhaps this seemed as a shock to use the living force to heal her.

Kyrel slowly stood up, walking away from her. Looking at the rebels surrounding him. He looked around his face shown from the cracks beneath his mask. As he looked all around. "This fight is over, your leader breathes. Do not attack and I will trouble you no more... Our fight ends with the Sith... If you know that then finish the fight.... The Empire maybe what you were made for. But the true enemy is out there on this world. Do well to remember that for now." Kyrel continued to walk away, as shards of his mask started to fall on the ground. A new air of change came as Kyrel. For the first time in a long time. Let go his rage, this time he would focus it on his true enemy. For the battle taking place. Having sensed that of the Imperial Knight earlier. It wasn't much but Kyrel felt that things needed to be done right.

Broadcasting his own dark aura, once more tapping into the dark side. He let it be felt by the Knight's own combatant be it Sith or not. He let him knew he was coming for him. That his fight would soon be with Kyrel.

 

[Théodoro]

// THEO // THYRSIAN SUN GUARD // SLAYER OF BEASTS
// OBJECTIVE // RUMBLE IN THE JUNGLE // BATTLE THE BEASTMASTER
// FOCUS // Sanguine Nocturnal
// REGALIA // IN BIO // 2x Wrist Rockets // Old Armor
// THEME // PRAY FOR ME // THE WEEKND AND KENDRICK LAMAR

"There you are!" The beastmaster emerged from the base after making her threats. Theo grinned under his helmet. The red-skinned Twi'Lek was a dangerous woman, he could tell. Even from this distance he could see those little ticks. Her grip on her weapon told of constant use. Her gait betrayed a confidence only an experienced fighter could hold. And her eyes -- when he looked into those eyes he saw a lust for pain in others. He saw an ambition unlike any other. He saw a disdain for the lives of others.

Fighting a sadist was never boring.

Still, even though she began to aim her rifle towards him, the closest enemies were instead the two nexu that she had released from the base. He'd allow it. Any other opponent he would rather face alone, but a beastmaster was no beastmaster without their beasts. This Twi'Lek woman obviously had great control over the creatures. He had faced starved nexu before. Nothing would stand between it and its prey, but often it had difficulty discerning prey from master. Truly the prowess of the beastmaster was extraordinary. He was eager to do battle with her.

First, the nexu. Creatures so honest and feral were often only threats because of their natural strength, speed, and ferocity. It was not a true battle between warriors but instead a test of strength. Theo could read them like a book. There was no deception or subtlety to their movements, and while the fact that they were not humanoid made them more difficult to read it was still easier than an intelligent combatant.

A test he had passed before and would pass again. No, he was not here to die to a nexu or a disruptor at range. It would dishonor the power of these great feline beasts to kill them with anything but his own hands. The one to his left pulled ahead slightly, so he activated the shield on his left first. They reached twenty meters away at a breakneck pace. Theo needed to be just as quick.

He shifted his grip on his pike and instead threw it like a javelin at the one to his right. Even though his timing had been perfect -- he threw just as the nexu left the ground in between steps -- the creature still managed to twist in mid-air, avoiding being killed by the force pike. Instead the creature suffered a long gash across its side. It stumbled and rolled away upon landing, but its companion would not be deterred. It pounced on Theo, the Sun Guard only given enough time to raise his shield to defend against the beast's claws.

The enormous talons raked against his shield, but his defense held even as the attacks became more desperate. Theo was large enough to deter attempts at simply swallowing him whole and had proven himself dangerous enough not to simply be pinned. As the claws slashed towards him once more he activated the shield's plasmatic edge. The nexu had thought itself a creature that could pierce any armor and rend the flesh of its prey. To its surprise, its so reliable claws broke against Theo's defense, the plasmatic edge of the shield having sliced right through the nexu's claws instead.

Even before the black claws had time to fall to the ground, Theo lowered his shield and activated the mandible-mounted flamethrower, forcing the nexu back lest they be burnt by his fire. The Sun Guard was ablaze, shining even in the dappled light of the jungle and covered in the blood of the voxyn.

"I am Théodoro Pirran, Thyrsian Sun Guard! Come, beastmaster, show me your prowess!" He roared. The nexu were given pause, for even they could see the ferocity of the gold-armored warrior. He drew his blade from its sheath, his shield and sword outlined by their glowing plasmatic edges. Theo was ready to tear through these wounded cats and take the fight to his true opponent, but for now he waited for his opponent's next move.

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Ingrid L’lerim
The Red Witch; Emperor's hand; Director of Blackwatch; Baroness of Vengard​

Location: Observation Post, Floral Research Hub Aurek, integrated into exterior walls.
Equipment: Assassin armor with this look | Black blade lightsaber | Red blade lightsaber shoto | 2x vibroblades | Stealth field generator
Tags: AMCO | Open

Background music:
Elena Siegman – Abracadavre​

She didn’t want this war…

Ingrid didn't really underestimate Adrian's efforts, she was merely distrustful, and she did not trust the work that others do and not her. Even in the Eternal Empire, she always re-checked everything which concerned the safety of the Emperor. Although this would not be necessary. She nodded at Adrian's words; it was reassuring that there was a way for the man or both to escape. But this will be revealed later and the good question was whether there would be enough space for that to happen.

”I hope that place doesn’t explode yet” she said telepathically.

The five Eclipse rebel members were not a big challenge for them. She nodded again because she completely agreed with the Sith Lord that it would be good to finally get out of here. They soon even reached the highest level that had not yet collapsed, one thing is for sure, the rebels wreaked enough havoc here. Thee roof, okay, at least she knew exactly where it was, she had time to look at the place from above even before her dropship was shot.

They decided to bypass this floor and they will find another way. She would have already started backwards to go a few levels down, when suddenly the whole building shook. At the same time she felt a great dark side disturbance in the Force. Similar to what caused the alleged storm. Earthquake, here? Right now? It was certainly not the work of Wardens, so one of the sith remains who did this.

”I would risk it alone, but not with you. It’s one thing to play with my own life the way I want to, but I will not risk yours. I'll go out, I'll tell you if you can come” she “said” without spoken words.

She looked at the Sith Lord for another moment, then she carefully pushed the door back into the wall so none couldn't hear the action. It was already apparent from here that behind some barricades six rebel soldiers were firing at the Sith Imperials facing them. They didn't notice what Ingrid was doing, mainly because the earthquake disrupted both sides.

Ingrid stepped out into the hallway, it favored her that the rebels were very close to each other. She turned the blades in her hands, she stepped closer and slammed down. Inside, Adrian could see her movement, accurate, damn fast and deadly. In the case of the first two persons, she first cut one throat and inserted the blade into the nape of the other. It was only at this moment that the rebels began to comprehend what had happened.

They looked at their companions inside the corridor in surprise, Ingrid barely moved, also infinitely gracefully and elegantly, the invisible death struck again. She made an X movement with her hands in which the blades were, meanwhile she even moved to reach the two rebels. Two more severed throats and an almost half-severed head. The sith imperial soldiers exclaimed in surprise and the two remaining rebels would have started running towards Adrian. The woman spun very fast she didn't let them get there.

She threw both blades into the back of the rebel farther away from her, and as soon as they left her hands became visible, the man lay dead after the impact. The last of the rebels is stopped, she is screaming. But by now Ingrid was already behind her, the woman's hands slid invisibly down the woman's neck and under her chin. There was a loud crack and Ingrid broke the woman's neck in one motion and let her fall at her feet. However, it was all burdensome, especially in the fight. So after the last move, her invisibility also disappeared. The four Sith imperial soldiers looked at her in surprise before they realized what they were seeing.

”Seize her! No, kill her, this is an Eternal Empire's assassin!” shouted one of them.

”Now it would be advisable for you to come out my Lord!” she said aloud as she raised her hands.

She didn’t want this war…

​

 

[Rurik Fel]

// PARABOL ACTUAL // Imperial Knight Commander
// ALLIES | EE & NIO // Kyrel Ren
// ENEMIES | TSE // Kascalion Giedfield | Coordinated
Armor | Lightsaber | The Vane | Pistol | Grenades

R U R I K _ W Y M A R
T H I R D _ E Y E (continued)

<"Aargh! C-Commander! Help us-"> One of the Auxiliaries stricken by the sickly plagued infused streams of lightning sounded out before Rurik sees his body collapse to his knees, clawing and writhing in pain before he among the others slumps down low. Wymar could feel it. He tried to reach out and erect an ethereal barrier between the profane sorcery and his men. His stalwart companions and comrades. But when it came to the battle of wills, to divert what sated the searing pain from each stretch of his body impacted by the crimson blade and where once was his blade hand now hollow air leading to a bloodied and cauterized stub. He held out his hand clutching the disengaged silver blade and his stub as he sought to wrench his soldiers from the marble jaws of oblivion. The barrier shimmered as his will danced between. Pain. Preservation. Pain. Preservation.

Then he felt it. Their souls being snatched into the ether. Their mortal shells snuffed out from this suffering. Duty done. Rest...at last. Is all Rurik could hope for them. Only hope that the fires in life could only filter through to peace in death. Even if it was nothing, it was so mercifully excluded from the suffering the enveloped mortal sentience.

Feeling the field around them devoid of life save for the beating heart and raging fire of the Imperial Knight before The Devil, he spoke once more. All but slighting the Emperor's Hand in refusing to acknowledge another of his taunts.

<"I failed you, my brothers. I am sorry..."> He sounded out beneath the shadowy hood of the cloak draped over his argent armor.

<"I am the will of your vengeance.">

Springing into the fray again. The electric exchange of silver and crimson locked with one another again. In spite of the pain. The lack of coordination. The absolute corrosive burn that rotted at his stamina. His mortal form. All the same.

Pain is an illusion.

Then, the dance of blades ceased to a silent and foreboding interlude to the Devil's next incantation.

Twilight. He rose his saber in his sole hand to deflect the eldritch malfeasance only for it to wash over him. Each passing moment of searing dread he'd feel it embed and bleed into his mortal form. He could feel himself faltering. From the darkness, the pain, the anguish. His armor was growing thin and brittle on the sorcery's influence and with it the entirety of his mortal body. Eventually he could not remain resolute any longer. Surging forward again he swung his blade out, letting a blast of the Twilight sear and dig into his gaze beneath the hood before he cut the blade down viciously down toward Kascalion's left collar bone aiming to rake the shimmering silver through his chest and skewer him where he stood. Fate be damned he would not go whimpering into defeat even if he felt himself collapse unto the ground. Unto his knees he braced himself atop the dirt with his hand and arm void of its symmetric manipulator.

He could feel his life force heaving in waves over him. He was weak. He was dying. The Devil would best him here now if he did not act again. Just as the Master of Ren had sensed the ethereal blood of Rurik's compartmentalized suffering through the force, the Knight Commander grasped ahold of that tether and spoke through to him.

>I can sense the anger. The anguish. The pain. You do not have to confine yourself a prisoner to it any longer, brother. In your retribution...in your redemption, you will find the peace you seek, brother. Steel yourself from this meager prey, you will garner nothing. Discipline. A greater foe...he's waiting. You're going to meet him. Do what must be done.< Was all he could manage to Kyrel before he felt his marred face bury in the bloodied dirt beneath. Sucking in dry breaths he dug his finger tips of his lone hand into the rigid earth before he let emerge any adherence to the submission to fragility that was pain in a gutteral groan before he faltered again. His body alone, his mortal armor had shattered.

Invoking upon The Vane again, he dug inwards to his inner pneuma to reclaim his strength. To rebuild each and every fiber of his being to construct the will to remain. To stay alive.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Location: Observation Post, Center Complex
Forces: 10 Crownguard | 2 Dimensional Shamblers | 4 Elder Things
Tags: Kainan Wolfe (Engaging), Aerarii Tithe , Grand Moff Aut-X, Kascalion Giedfield , AMCO , Moff TV-771 "Bishop", Ellie Mors , Taeli Raaf , Ingrid L'lerim

W R A T H ​

The Dictator of the Eternal Empire.

It was clear from the moment he laid his eyes on the Eternal Emperor that the man had changed. It was in his cold, steely eyed gaze and the cool presence of death that surrounded him. The man had long indentured himself into the faithful servitude of death itself he progressed further down the path and accumulated a great amount of power. The dark wraiths who clung desperately to his form jumped readily to his defense at the utterance of a cold word. The price that one had to pay in order to accumulate such power was incredibly steep and it was commendable that the man had the ability to take it. A speech delivered with the eloquence of a tried and tested, silver tongued elder statesman proclaiming his intentions, condemning the order and the direction he perceived the Sith Empire as heading in since the fall of Coruscant and the establishing of the Imperial Bloc. It was followed by the weaving of intricate spellwork and the explosion of a spear manifested out of vile, dark side fury - it was magic rooted in the ancient species of the sith.​

​

As the spear flew through the air towards the Lord of Lies he stood unflinching, unmoving in the face of its fury as it came closer with every passing moment, the mans intentions hidden beneath a stoic, unreadable poker face. It wasn't until the spear neared that he raised a hand that glowed with a baleful light. Such concentrated power was rooted from the physical manifestation of dark side energy and he absorbed the concentrated energy, siphoning the energy and pulling it inside him. "A brave effort but futile. There is only darkness for you and only death for your people down this path." He said as a conglomeration of inky black darkness, a conjured fog started to manifest around one of his hands. "You are strong. But I am beyond the strength." The Despoiler said raising his hand high into the air and high in the sky the clouds churned, the elder things withered and vanished as a flash briefly illuminated the field around them. "I am the end."​

​

It was then that the lightning came down. ​

​

Wrath unleashed in the manifestation of a great barrage of destructive bolts aimed towards the Dictator of the highest possible form of lightning a sith could manifest: crimson lightning. The darkness within his other hand manifested in the form of an abomination pulled from the depths of the nether - a blade. The Mountain surged with an inevitability to his step a certainty as profound as the sun and the moon, his immensity enough to create craters beneath his feet while the Crownguard charged beside him with blaster and blade to engage the Wolfguard, while the Dimensional Shamblers charged with lightning speed, their bodies vanishing and reappearing with the presence of projectiles as they moved alongside the Death Lord in his destructive charge under a barrage of lightning.​

​

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​

 

[Karisa]

Location: Mirador tower - conference room, Sith-Imperial Observation Post
Objective: II - Diplomacy, good wine, nice company... well it was good while it lasted. Now get the hell outa there!
Outfit: Noble robes, Hairstyle
Gear: Flex-Armorweave fabric in clothing, concealed, Charric Hold-out blaster, hidden short-bladed dagger, 1 hair chopstick with a poison tip, pocket rebreather
Allies: EE and EE Allies
In the company of Malicar
Enemies: TSE and TSE Allies, Eclipse Rebels
In the company of Aerarii Tithe & Vidalu Na'an
Post: 5

​

And then suddenly the Rebel Leader had a change of heart and/or plan. How fortuitous for them! She and her men quickly exited the conference room via the outside, repelling down the side of the tower wall instead of internally leaving the sector governer and the two Chiss standing in amongst the debris of the destroyed room kinda astonished at the turn of events. Well, Karisa was anyway.

It seemed the three of them all took a collective sigh of relief along with their individual security details still with them, but now what? It appeared the Moff was as eager to conclude the business meeting as Malicar was and get out of harm's way.

"Things like this happen, hopefully in rarity though do I am afraid. It was no fault of your own, Moff Tithe. Your gracious hospitality could not have been better received. Thank you again. It indeed was a pleasure to have met you," Baroness Sabosen appreciatively answered their host with a respectful cant of her dark head, then waited until the Moff and those with him had entered the turbolift before slipping the bottle of rare vintage wine from the recesses of the outer noble's robe worn.

Karisa met the charismatic shipping tycoon's glowing red eyes with measured amusement etched in hers. "It is true... You certainly know how to show a girl a good time," she retorted with a small smile gracing her dark lips turning up at the corners of her mouth into almost a grin, almost.

The Chiss diplomat raised the bottle up to the light to see how much of the wine was indeed left and nodded there was enough for two shares, then Karisa peered past as an advancing thunderstorm could be seen in the distance and too, an outline of a hammerhead shark flying in the air towards the battered tower. The sight of Malicar's personal ship always made her giggle for some reason. It was unique just as the man who owned her was. It was what attracted her to him. Plus, Malicar's six-pack abs weren't bad either.

"I say we dispense with the usual good manners and just chug it down, hmm? A little liquid encouragement to help with the jitters of having to jump without a net to the boarding ramp...I assume that is why the Shadow Hammer is coming around aft first to the gaping hole where the glassteel window used to be? Yes, never a dull moment with you... Ch'at'tio'bahah!" Karisa toasted cheers in their native tongue of Cheunh, then brought the wine bottle up to her lips and downed a healthy portion of the Alderaanian vintage in a very unladylike way before passing it over to the other Chiss without wiping the rim off. She doubted he'd mind getting cooties from her at this point. After all, they had swapped spit before.

 

[Will Westender]

Equipment: Lightsaber | KC-77N Blaster Pistol
Allies: EE (Eclipse Rebellion) | Enemies: TSE
Troops: 4x Eclipse Infantry (1 injured)
Attn: Shavara | Onrai | Grand Moff Aut-X | Dash Typho​

In the chaos of the battle, they had but moments to catch their breaths, mere moment of respite before the enemy's next assault. Most wouldn't think much of a crashed shuttle and the handful of survivors that may have crawled out of its mangled hull, but these enemies were Sith. And if one thing was true about the Sith, it was that they were very thorough in their efforts to annihilate anything and everything which did not immediately bow before them to be enslaved. Sometimes, they would kill you anyway, just for the fun of it.

The next assault came in the form of two hulking black shapes, heavily armored and seemingly impervious to blaster fire, armed with a pair of rotary cannons that unleashed Armageddon upon anything in their path. Half of the surviving rebels went down in the first salvo, before they regrouped and took cover behind the smoldering wreckage of the downed shuttle.

Will realized their position was untenable. What little was left of his squad simply lacked the firepower to breach the fortification and if they kept pressing the assault, they would all be killed. Besides, the objective had been accomplished, anyway. The Sith had been drawn into the Empire's trap and the rebels had, by now, figured out the ruse. There simply wasn't any reason for Will and his squad to stick around and if any of the others wanted to keep attacking, it was their problem anyway. Will had no obligation to foolishly die with the rest of them.

"This is Echo Two-Niner, calling any available rebel shuttles in the area! We need air support and a lift out of here! Our shuttle has crashed, we're being pinned by some kind of Sith droids and we have wounded in need of immediate medical attention! Does anybody copy?" he shouted into the comms.

While he desperately tried to contact some support, the remaining infantry were making their best attempt at some kind of suppressing fire. Two of the rebels still had working rifles, while a third had somehow managed to salvage the heavy repeating blaster out of the wreck and was now unloading bolts back at the Darktroopers. Even the injured rebel was firing his pistol in the general direction of the hulking monsters, but against Phrik armor, their weapons would be next to useless.

Waiting for some kind of answer, Will ignited his lightsaber and drew his pistol, using the sky-blue blade to deflect the incoming blaster fire when he occasionally popped up from behind cover to fire off a few bolts of his own.

 

[Shavara]

Interacting Tags: Allies: Will Westender , Dash Typho
Frontier Tenacity
Enemies: Onrai Grand Moff Aut-X
Location: On ground with Will Westender and a few rebel infantry
Appearance: 6'2" Human Male.

Things were not going well. Forces began approaching on them and while there was help keeping the enemy fighters off them thanks to another member of the rebels, they were still, for now, on their own. The jumptroopers fired wrist rockets, something relatively easy to deflect with the force when her primary combative use of it was telekinesis. However they were still going to be left in danger, especially as more and more dropzones would be left too difficult to tread due to the growing radiation.

It was weird, the way outsiders fought. All the blasters and such. She expected Will to use more of the force than he did, instead he was using a blaster and his lightsaber. Then again, she had only seen her people fight in practice in person. Which, while certainly deadly without their technology, wasn't the same style even remotely.

She took in a breath, focus. And act. She stayed where she was, focusing on the force while in cover rather than standing up to preform it. Reaching out towards one of the oppressors and trying to forcefully turn his blaster against the radtroopers and squeeze the trigger herself. It required focus more due to the specifics of being aware of direction and precision than it did raw force. And she was quite grateful for the Kestralis ring that aided her focus in this matter.

If it was working, she hoped to either force them to try and kill him, thinking he was some kind of spy. Get slaughtered by their own weapons. Or have to take cover. Any of those options just might give them some more room for movement or strategy. Perhaps focusing on the jumptroopers. Or finding another way off this planet. But that wasn't her job, she didn't have time to think of these sorts of things right now. Just try and aim and fire the Blaster Cannon for now.

Equipment:
shavaras-robes
shavaras-kestralis-ring
vuns-kaliek
sar-vuns-mask
Covered in additional robes that hide her own and partially disguise her figure.

 

[Agrippa]

New Imperial Expeditionary Force - Gladius Company
Joint Task Force "SARAJEVO" - Eternal Navy's 1st Fleet Section
Cara Dorniarn

If I Had A Heart
​

0.9km from landing zone

The bolt was slung away off a shiny piece of metal and all I could do was-

"O.K."

I looked off the scope and saw a figure charging at me at full speed. I am soldier, I knew one thing to do best - pull the trigger. Straight at center mass.

There was no chance I was releasing that trigger. I showered the damn lab coat wearing, blood drinking lady with a parade of bolts.

A great welcoming party in the form of blaster fire.

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

Equipment: Sword | Shroudsaber | Sith Lightsabers | Armor (Custom Appearance)
Allies: EE | Enemies: TSE
Attn: Darth Prazutis
Location: Near landing zone
Troops: 8x Wolfguards | 4x Netherworld Demons (Consumed) | 2x Voxyn | 1000x Zombie Rats​

His enemy was vain, cruel, wrathful, an uncontrollable force of destruction, the very embodiment of thousands upon thousands of years of Sith tradition. He shrugged off the spear, then called upon the darkest pits of the Darkside to unleash a counterattack, crimson lightning raining down from the sky to scorch the earth and obliterate the necromancer and his Wolfguards, but Tacitus had prepared for this. He had witnessed the Shadow Hand's Force Storms first hand, had been struck down by one such storm on Coruscant. During the time since then, he had run that battle in his head over and over again, subjecting every move, every technique and dark power to meticulous analysis. He knew a storm would be coming the moment he sensed the Shadow Hand's presence on the planet. It was his favorite technique, afterall and one of his most destructive.

Tacitus had spent years preparing for this duel. He sought out and studied the oldest, most powerful rituals of necromancy, combining them with Sith Alchemy to recreate feats and spells not heard of since the days of old, the days of Exar Kun and Valkorion. Through Anubian rituals, he bound his soul to the Netherworld and gained the ability to consume the souls of demons, then trained his body to withstand their power. On Coruscant, he only had one demon to draw from. On Eshan, he consumed two and died because of it, but he had come a long way since then. Now he stood before Prazutis, the power of four demons coursing through his veins, vast, horrific power he could draw upon with practiced ease. Once again, the wraiths of the Great Beyond stirred from their resting place, tearing through the veil between worlds to answer the necromancer's call. Once again, they stood as a shield between him and the bolts of lightning and what they could not absorb, he casually sidestepped.

Two of his Wolfguards fell, one to the lightning, the other to the blade of a Crownguard, but the necromancer's elite fought back with decades of experience and countless hours of training, with the unshakable discipline of a mountain. The Voxyn, creatures meant to hunt down those touched by the Force, pounced upon Prazutis' dimensional shamblers with the fury and ferocity of a Kalidani superblizzard.

Prazutis stepped forward and drew his blade, the dreaded Daesumnor, Blade of Hunger, and Tacitus merely stood, his own sword in his hand, patiently waiting, planning every move ahead like a deadly game of Dejarik. All the while, the twisted eyeballs kept growing, bigger and bigger, becoming bloated and deformed at the ends of their stalks. More and more of them emerged from the dead vegetation, from the desiccated ground at the ends of withered, unnatural fingers. The lightning destroyed some of them, but like the inevitability of death, they kept growing, multiplying.

Meanwhile, Tacitus sought to manipulate his opponent, to drive him further into the clutches of uncontrollable rage, to drive him onto a predictable path. "Such arrogance," he mocked in a cold, calm tone, condescension dripping from his voice. "Such blind hubris. How very typically Sith of you," he said. "Your words prove why you Sith are inferior and obsolete. You are beyond strength? Please, all I see before me is a pampered, arrogant bully. You reek of weakness," the necromancer taunted. "All these years and all you do is pursue whatever pathetic, primitive impulses you fancy in the moment. The only thing that drives you is an endless lust for excess and wastefulness, you lack discipline and the strength of will required to be anything more than a primitive, unevolved animal, still flailing around in the primordial puddle with no direction, no purpose."

"You know nothing of commitment, of the value of sacrifice, of self-control, as unevolved as your primitive ancestors the day they climbed down from the trees and became men. You are nothing more than a puppet of the Force, a trained, obedient dog blindly doing the bidding of a power you still fail to understand, barely having enough will of your own to qualify as sapient. You regurgitate such pathetic, arrogant words, so perfectly revealing your blindness and inferiority. You are a maggot, fat and weak, feeding upon the sacrifices of others because you are incapable of amassing the discipline required to cultivate strength within yourself."

"All these years and you still fail to understand the most basic, fundamental things of all. The value of purpose and discipline, the strength that comes only from devoting yourself to a higher calling and working tirelessly to fulfill it. I will show you what true strength looks like as I crush you beneath my boot and parade your pitiful, mutilated carcass down the avenues of Kalidan," the necromancer taunted as the first twisted eyeball popped, exploding with a sickening squelch as its membrane could no longer contain what had been growing inside.

From the sick and twisted thing, emerged a single rat, emaciated and rotten, its ribs poking through shredded flaps of putrid skin and patches of matted, desiccated hair. Slowly, it uncoiled itself, like a creature lazily emerging from a long sleep, stretching, peeling back its eyelids to reveal hollow, glowing pits of red in place of eyes, windows into the realm of the dead, its gaze the empty, hungry gaze of death itself, cold and lifeless and utterly alien to the world of the living.

There was a second pop, then a third and then a dozen. Then a hundred and a thousand, until the dead jungle was filled with the sickening sound as all around, horrific rats emerged from eyeballs, clawed their way out of the ground. or chewed their way out of dead vines and the withered corpses of local wildlife, resting on their haunches, their empty, soulless gazes seeking and finding Prazutis' hulking form.

"You are the end, Prazutis? Fitting words for a dead man," Tacitus said as he slowly lifted his free hand. Then, with a voice which sounded like the voice of death itself, he laughed. "I am what comes after."

Then, the necromancer pointed a taloned, gauntletted finger at the Sith Lord. And the dead jungle echoed with the horrific shrieks of a thousand hungry, undead rats, hungry for the Shadow Hand's flesh and very soul. Like a twisted tide of horrors, the rats surged forward, climbing and clawing over eachother to reach and devour their prey. And all the while, more and more eyeballs kept rising from the ground.

EDIT: Forgot to add the rats to the troop roster (oops)
EDIT 2: Fixed typos and spelling mistakes​

 

[Lark]

​

Allies: TSE
Enemies: Rebels, EE, Adelle Bastiel
Objective: Assist in Defense

How quickly things could turn into absolute madness. As Lark finally made his way up from where he had been conducting his experiments, the battle had already begun in earnest. An orchestra of blaster fire and deathly wails filled the observation post, the surprise attack had successfully caught the Sith off-guard. Lark would worry about the 'why' once the Eternal Empire and the cultists recognized how grievous their mistakes were, and the woes their judgement would cause their own soldiers.

Those fools, Lark thought, with a hint of sadness creeping into him. They've brought our wrath onto themselves.

His somberness faded away, any rebel who charged him was cut down with terrifying callousness. Holding his enchanted sword and dagger, he maneuvered towards the front of the base, where the chaos was most palpable. Craters and wreckage littered the area around the post, but for an odd moment all he heard were the screams of the dying. Even the most hardened of soldiers might let out a cry of despair in the moments before their life ended, the most charismatic of leaders might perish with a mere whimper. And as he listened to those screams he could still hear that monster in the shape of his sister burning, a fate kinder than such a beast deserved. That's not her voice, those weren't her eyes. Her ashes will be buried deep. Death was such a beautiful horror, the end of all things.

Lark would bring that horror to the entire Eternal Empire.

There was a figure that caught his attention, one that seemed to be relaying some sort of message, hiding behind a landspeeder. Sith soldiers fired at approaching rebels, but it was a tough fight. People fell almost like rain, either dead or dying. Lark cut down those who drew too close, and when he had an opening, he turned his attention back to the one behind the landspeeder. Reaching out with the Force, Lark pushed the wreckage of the vehicle, hoping to shatter whatever cover the woman had.

His gaze outwards towards the woman was gentle, but his mind was a whirlwind of rage. Rage at the Eternal Empire for their betrayal. Rage at that monster, whose existence was pitifully short-lived, and screams so human.

And rage at himself, for falling so low as to create such a ghastly imitation of his dear sister.

 

[Loreena Arenais-Valhoun]

Objective: Castle Cry
Enemies: Kyrel Ren , Eternal Empire
Allies: Eclipse Rebels, R Reyn Australis and Curtis Learchin
Accompanied by: Arla (in sig) and 20 Infantry Soldiers

Lori kept her eyes on Kyrel as he stared down at her. She waited for him to finish her off, yet instead he walked away. It was then that she collapsed back onto the ground, letting go of her lightsaber as the Darkside Spear seemed to just disappear. Yet still the wound remained. And it hurt like hell.

The voices of Curtis and Reyn echoed in her mind, yet she couldn't speak. Her own voice felt caught up in her throat and she could only guess that it was her body's reflex because of the trauma. Yet she wanted to respond. She needed their help.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lori caught the movement of someone approaching. Yet it wasn't Curtis or her cousin, or even the soldiers that came with them. Instead it was Kyrel. She figured that he was there to end her, yet instead he placed his hands on her. Lori moved to resist, however the peace that then eveloped her changed her mind. Force energies were moving through her. She had never been Force healed before, yet her gut instinct told her that that was exactly what was happening. The question was....why?

As Kyrel finished and got back to his feet, Lori could only mouth the words 'Thank you' before he walked away from her once more. She overheard his words and looked up. Only now did she even recognize the fact that it seemed almost as though fire was raining down from the sky. Was it a trap?

~Curtis...Reyn...help.~ Lori let her commlink fall to the ground beside her. The wound might be closed, yet her muscles still ached, and she was in shock over what had happened.


She needed to get off this planet. And it didn't look like it was going to be easy.

 

[Vidalu Na'an]

Location: Observation Post, Center Complex, outside wall
Objective: Warn Eclipse Forces of trap and initiate extraction
Equipment: One (1) custom-made shoto lightsaber, One (1) CR-1 Blast Cannon, One (1) 50-meter length of syntherope, Four (4) standard thermal detonators
Appearance: Nondescript Imperial Uniform, (minor customizations). Mismatched with standard-issue Ultranaut helmet.
Ground Forces: Eclipse ground troops, airdrop unit. Approx. 25 troops
Interacting with: Dash Typho
Nearby Tags: Loreena Arenais-Valhoun , Kascalion Giedfield , Grand Moff Aut-X, AMCO , Will Westender , Kyrel Ren , Adelle Bastiel , Curtis Learchin, Cedric Malicar, Aerarii Tithe , Karisa

The center complex tower was not as tall as it looked from the roof node. As Dag dropped his rope down from the shattered window to the next landing, he could see that its end pooled on the ground at the bottom of the tower. The shorter ropes of some of his squad dangled, but not by much, which gave him an estimate; they were looking at a drop of more than thirty meters but not much more. As he directed his men downwards, the Sargeant found himself wishing they had been able to keep their drop gear on, if only for safety's sake. He trusted his men--it was everything else he didn't trust.

The squad ended with five ropes snaking out to the outside of the tower. Dag directed them to group up in fives, showing each team how to loop the silky syntherope around their gloved wrist to reduce friction burn and control their descent with one hand. The teams whooped as they dropped out of the window, one by one, until only Dag and the Jedi remained. Gorello was the last to go; Dag watched his stupid grinning face vanish out of sight with only a small twist of anxiety in his gut.

"Lot of fire out there," he said to the Jedi (not a Jedi, he reminded himself, she said she wasn't a Jedi, but they'd never decided what the hell else to call her anyway). "We do have cover, right?"

The Jedi was watching the firefight outside the window, her helmet swiveling back and forth to trace the path of fighters as they screamed past the tower. As they watched, a pair of the tower's turrets exploded into a shower of flaming shrapnel. "As good as we're gonna get. Other than that, we've just got to move quickly." Her hands worked at her waist, tying the bottom of a sixth rope in a loop under her ribs, but before Dag could ask what it was for she pointed out the window next to where Gorello had left. "I'll be behind you, Sargeant."

There was no responding to that other than just to go. So Dag did.

In theory, rappelling was one of the easiest exercises his team had undergone during their time together. In practice, however...everything was chaos. To their credit, Dag's men managed to mostly keep the standard distance between them and keep moving. But as the Sargeant began his own descent, it became very clear that the rate of descent wasn't as fast as it had been in training, and for good reason. Between the slippery outside of the tower, all glass and smooth stones and durasteel, and the turbulent wind from the fighters careening by, it was hard to keep one's feet grounded. The ropes swayed as soldiers scrabbled for purchase, the problem compounded every time they had to organize a stop to take out a turret. If it weren't for the commander's fighters keeping the tower's defenses and enemy fighters busy, they would have all been picked off one by one....

And ten meters down, it looked like that luck was about to give out.

Dag was facing the wall, adjusting the rope on his wrist, when it happened. He heard the scream of a ship, felt the wind ruffle his hair, then the stones just below him gave way in an explosion of laserfire. He flailed wildly in the air for a second, heart in his throat, convinced he was dead, dead, dead without a place to put his feet. The tension of the rope in his hand was only in one direction now, only upwards--there was no weight but his own pulling it down. Everything below him had been blown away: The line to the ground, his men, all but a few inches of tower wall for at least five meters were just gone.


"Fighter!" he screamed into the wind, his legs kicking desperately and only barely finding purchase. There was no time to mount a proper defense against a moving target, they'd been counting on their own airborne forces to keep them at bay. But clearly, one had broken loose from the Commander and had decided to go after easier pickings. He fought to put his feet down, screaming again as he fought to get his rifle into his free arm. "Those on the top line cover fire, there's a fighter! Bottom liners, DROP KARKIN' FASTER!"

A few of his men on the other ropes already had rifles in hand; the ones higher up braced themselves and started firing. The fighter responded easily, juking and jigging away from the static targets as if they were little more than damned droid turrets. Even the shots that hit were being absorbed easily by the fighter's shields, designed with small arms fire in mind. Dag watched with horror as it wheeled around for another approach, aiming for Gorello's line. He was about to watch everyone on that rope die--he was about to watch Gorello die and there was nothing, nothing, nothing he could do--

Then, just above the scream of the fighter, he heard a woman's scream.

He looked up--

And found out immediately why the Jedi had tied the rope the way she had. It was because she was insane.

From the look of it, she hadn't followed Sargeant Dag onto the tower wall like she said she would, but had waited at the top of the tower until only seconds ago. At the sight of the fighter, she must have looped the rope around her wrist and jumped, hard, because now she was hurtling through the air like a damned projectile, loops of syntherope trailing behind her like the tail of a comet. As he watched, half of the rope snapped taut, cutting off her trajectory and sending her arcing down in a collision course with the tower wall. She landed hard, rolled, then began running against the side of the tower without even losing a second's momentum. Dag had to duck as her feet slammed against the glass above his head, but as he followed the path of her rope he suddenly understood. She'd needed to jump, needed all that extra loose rope, needed to keep moving hard and fast and keep her momentum because--

He turned to the men on the upper levels of the ropes, bellowing again against the wind until he was red in the face. "Southwest fire! Keep the fighter on course! DON'T LET HIM JUKE YA!"

The Jedi knew as well as he did that most fighters were well shielded against single blips of small arms fire. But combined fire was trickier, an actual threat, and a lightsaber? What fighter expected to encounter a lightsaber while in flight, even in atmo?

Not karkin' many.

And, gods bless'em, his soldiers knew that too. Dag joined them, watching with satisfaction as their combined fire streamed out into the sky to block the fighter's path. In the seconds left, the fighter's pilot had to commit to a path that would lead him right towards the wild running Jedi, and couldn't dodge as she used her momentum to launch her own attack. The lightsaber was in the Jedi's free hand suddenly, the scarlet blade snapping to life before burying itself in the belly of the fighter. The saber sliced deep, scoring a line of hot fire across the fighter as it screamed overhead, and at the same time the fighter bucked, tilted, its own wing slicing into the tower.

The next moment seemed to happen in slow motion. The fighter, arcing away from the tower, flames blooming from its belly as it careened groundward. The men, Gorello, howling in victory, safe. The Jedi's rope floating free, its anchor cut by the fighter's wing. The Jedi herself, losing her footing as the rope went slack, her momentum from that crazy attack suddenly gone. She flailed, unable to keep her footing without the counterbalance, and suddenly there was nothing between her and death but air and gravity.

That, and the Sargeant's hand on the rope.

And that was, at last, the reason the Jedi must've tied it around her body—because from where he caught the rope, she only fell a couple of meters before it caught her. She hit the side of the tower with a thump and a strangled sound, her body folded in half around the loop on her ribs. That was going to hurt like hell later...but hey, you had to be alive to hurt like hell. The Sargeant took the time she needed to recover to gather the rest of the rope and tie it to the frayed ends of his own line. Between the two of them, they'd at least be able to get to the bottom now.

"Let's go, boys! We gonna get shown up after a show like that? We still have a job to do, MOVE!"