Campaign &nbsp; It Will Burn | TB Campaign of SJC held Dandoran, Nar Chunna, Nar Kreeta, Kintan &amp; Klantooine

Osam | Ostak Cl'mana | Krarolk T'manu |

Targant Howlain |

Kelmor | Argaloth |

Gordrak |

Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir |
Vicinity:

Gianna Aegis |

The Jedi parasite did not fall so easily, nor did he expect her to. He had watched as even with splintered bones she put herself back together and fought back in her own now. Now, she would have to fight back HIS way or she would die here on this miserable planet. She would have to endure as he and his people had. She would now face him untethered by the insanity she had try to set upon him, albeit his wounds made him weaker.. slower. Her blade ignited, for all her words of courage and pacifism it always ended the same way.

She was surprisingly skilled, landing a blow with her ice-cold blade that stung with an incredible seething pain. It made him bite his tongue, but he kept coming. The battle continued unending, he not wishing to kill her outright with his Axe and her not wishing to kill him at all. Tathra wished to kill her with his hands, some part of him knew that would be the only way the attack on his mind would end. The never ending drumbeat in his mind that she had laced with her mind.

The cold of her blade worsened and with it so did his wound, singing in rhythm with the hum of the blade. Finally she attempted to disarm him, it made no difference to him. She wouldn't kill him or rather couldn't. If he needed to get close, to feel his fingers round her throat all he had to do - was do it. The image was in his mind, the intention shared with murder in his eyes. Her powers could not hold on, barely keeping his wounded form slowed as his strength and armour fought back against the influence of the force.

His vision tunnelled, he didn't even hear her. Charging right at her with his eyes set on her neck

Finally, he'd caught her. Satisfaction at last, she had disarmed him and danced around him for too long. Now, finally she was in his clench. He groaned in pain, the pale blue cold blade piercing through the wound Kar'dak had gave him with his Axe. But it wasn't enough to just crush her there and then like the parasite she was. The voices, the power - it was even worse now that he had flesh against flesh, but if it made it stop? Watching her die would be worth it all.

"You're full of tricks Jedi. But now..." His fingers tightened around her throat, his eyes shifting between her own as she struggled. "Its over." The primitive growls trailed his words. He could've crushed her in seconds, but he needed this.

She thought her tricks could torture, manipulate his mind. But she was wrong, he was stronger. Or so he thought.

Light illuminated her flesh, coursing between them as a flash turned everything to white - pure, like her.

What?

Everything - it faded. Or what he thought was everything suddenly seemed so small. His grip loosened, perhaps numb or perhaps not. But even his own body, so small. His own thoughts and wants were so small and everything else was so loud. So deafening. He thought he heard the battle, so loud. The drums of battle and the prices it made those without choice pay without justice. It wasn't a battle, it was every battle.

It was spread across time and space like grains across soil. The door had been left ajar, but now it was sprung open and he did see - so much. His eyes saw beyond Nar Kreeta. This is Captain Nome, the Bryn'adûl have taken my ship! They intend on ... into the city! Destroy the Hermes no..! The bravery and the fear of a soldier far from home. He felt it, every echo of choice - of pain and sorrow that he and his kin had brought upon others. No... [sobbing] my boy.. The horror and heartache of a mother. He felt it in his heart, molten tears curling down the edges of his cheekbone. Please help me save my friends. The desperation of a Jedi. Hundred million dead and for what? Glory?! So much pain across the Galaxy, like a gaping wound. Like his own wounds - he had inflected so many wounds so much more egregious.

The Titan crashed to his knees, the echo wasn't coming from the Jedi - Gianna. It was coming from everywhere and everything. He felt the force, the reverberations of what the Bryn'adûl were doing across the Galaxy. The wound, from it poured overpowering emotions a thousand-fold. He felt lose his mind could not comprehend.

"What - what is this...?" His voice quaked as his lip trembled, staring down at his own blood soaked hands half-buried in the sand.

Tears falling into the sand, wet heavy thuds amidst his gasps.

"NOOOOO! This is wrong!" Anger erupted from the Titan as he threw his fists into the earth. The weakness, it consumed him. He was Draelvasier, he was strength - he did not mean.. he did not know how to feel this way. He did not understand.

Tathra rose, staggered back and away from Gianna in hopes of lessening the pain. But it followed him, echoed through him. A hundred wounds in the force inside his head. His fist crashed into the duracrete, crumbling against it. A lifetime of fighting, of discipline and warrior culture washed away in moments, his control of his own mind stripped away by the force, by the sight she had gave him, opening his mind to the force.

This was no way for a Draelvasier to act, a Chieftain to act. Perhaps those who betrayed him were right, he was weak and feeble. In his old age he had grown soft, sentimental. His mind - weak and easily supplanted with new thoughts. But his rage, his ego and pride he still felt. He raged against the endless emotion pouring out from him.

"Arrrrghhhhh.... So old... so tired. There would be nothing... bones left to rot in the sun. Knives in my throat..." His body shook with rage, dry blood still in the cracks of his skin.

He turned, splintering the wall at his side with the mere thrust of his arm.

"This weakness.. I HATE IT! IT DISGUSTS ME!" His eyes travelled to the Jedi. The embers of his rage carried upon his voice, desperate and deranged as he collapsed upon himself once more.

Why hadn't she killed him? She could stop so much, all he would do. Instead she choose to torture his mind with her vision, her true sight. There was so much.. beauty in the world.

"Stop this.."

Mathieu Brion · Oct 26, 2020

Location: Outskirts
Troops: 5 4 Mechanised Kastolar Platoons (heavy casualties), numerous soldiers carrying LPD-39 Coldblast Cryoban Grenades and LPD-37 Coldstream Cryoban Rifles
Equipment: Ashlas wristguard | Espresso Revolver | 10 7 L'Escargots with Cryoban charges | Stun baton | Two Lightsabres | Brion Substance Regulator | Electromagnetic pulse emitter | Covert Jedi Robes on top of Gundark II-class Power Armor | 5 4 LPD-39 Coldblast Cryoban Grenade | LPD-40 Icejet Miniaturized Cryoban Projector | Commlink
Allied tag:

Cadere
Hostile tag: Argaloth
Additional tag:

Targant Howlain

The battle kept raging on. Even the normal clouds had been pushed away from their immediate vicinity, leaving the skies clear blue. It stood in stark contrast to the bloodied soil and misery below. Many soldiers were lying on the ground - crying, whimpering and in immense pain. At this point, it might have been a blessing for them to slowly slip away, for the lost limbs and damaged organs would not support them for much longer. At least the skies above them would be clear as they slowly slipped away, perhaps bringing them a sliver of peace among all the horror that they were otherwise endowed in.

It was hard to not think of them. It was hard to be one with the force when all he wanted to do was to withdraw into himself and close off all the pain. This was the price of becoming a Jedi and for a few moments, Mathieu's will was faltering. The realities of war brought him back. A Pimento that was hovering just a few metres above him suddenly exploded as it failed to defend itself against a Bryn projectile. Its ruined chassis rained down on the Padawan who quickly started to realise what was happening. They were concentrating fire at his location, leaving some of the drones with nothing to do while others were starting to get overworked.

"Get back! Get back into the thermal fields!" he roared it out loud and was heard rather clearly over the comms. The mobile Kastolar soldiers started to move, some going up to the middle Frittata and others going downwards to the crushed one that Captain Arlon was in. The Padawan had seen the destructive effects of the slugs that was raining down on him and knew that blocking them with the lightsabre would be a most unfortunate decision. Instead, he reached out with the force and nudged the incoming projectiles so that they would fly right above him rather than at him. He only had to work with small nudges but it still required a high degree of precision.

In the end, he managed to make it into one of the thermal fields where they could no longer focus him down specifically. His mind was filled with regret as his eyes gazed back at the field where he had just stood. It was filled with troopers with lost limbs, burn damages or massive slugs piercing their bodies. And next to them laid their fallen friends. The former Mercenary could not feel their physical pain - but he did feel their distress and their agony and he knew that it was he who had failed them. He came to be their shield, but he failed.

His legs felt weak. The Padawan was distraught and all his mind fixated on was how to alleviate the pain of those whom he had failed to save. But then he heard a familiar voice over the comms. It was Captain Arlon speaking, giving them new instructions. Mathieu looked over to the Captain's Frittata - the man was brutal, for when he wanted to lie down and vanish, Arlon commanded him to keep fighting. And that was precisely what he would do.

Captain Arlon's instructions were clear: They were going on the offensive.

But Mathieu could read a battlefield, for he had been on many. This was not the kind of offensive that was called for when they had the advantage. This was not the kind of offensive where they had found a tactical weakness to exploit in the enemy lines. This was the kind of offensive that was called when all other options were exhausted but the fight had to continue. The more experienced troopers knew - they knew that this was an attack that would likely end up getting them or their comrades killed. But they pushed on anyways, and so did Mathieu. It was their duty, not only to the Concord and Captain Arlon, but also to their families, just a few planets away.

They pushed on. Firing their MEAT Launchers like there was no tomorrow, throwing every grenade with vigour and aiming the L'Escargot slugs where they'd be the most effective. In a way, it seemed to work, for the Bryn took more casualties from it than they did before. But then, some seemed to be able tor withstand the heavy fire. It was a hard fought battle and of course, the Bryn fought back, now deploying their grenade launchers at a relatively close range. It was a risky move - for while they were very likely to damage the Kastolar troopers despite not being properly aimed due to the thermal distortion fields, they were also susceptible to interception. Many of the Concord soldiers died as the explosives started to rain down on them, but even now, the Pimentos did some work, either shooting a grenade before it arrived or even shooting one as it was just fired, potentially risking damaging the grenadier instead.

Meanwhile, their scanners were starting to pick up a two large and fast-moving lifeforms. They were still far in the distance, the battle they were currently in was relatively well secluded. It was unclear whether they were heading towards the Kastolar Platoons and the Bryn force, but the risk was obvious. It had not gone by unnoticed, how lethal the Skags were, and this one seemed to carry a rider. With that, Captain Arlon made a monumentally important decision. He contacted the troopers around his own transport, the transport that was nearest the Bryn on the Skag and let both the Jedi hear what he said "Pull back. We will focus on holding our flank. We do not want another Skag in our midst. Start shelling the ground between us and it with Sundaes. Let's see how it deals with coming up the hill when it's covered by ice."

For the other troops, the news were devastating - for all of a sudden, they lost a hefty amount of their fire support that was now being diverted to create a barrier to protect their flank. Mathieu was starting to realise why Dansk was the Major and Arlon was still a Captain, for he had done little to prevent the loss of morale and to the Padawan, it seemed like a kneejerk reaction.

But then, he started to feel fear, desperation and pain - but the feelings were not his own, they came from an insidious source that he only recognised as one thing. "Sith" the words were laced with venom but were quiet enough for only him to hear. It didn't make any sense, but the source sure was dark - perhaps Arlon had made a good call after all. Mathieu saw how the troops around him were starting to loose faith - not only were they fighting an uphill battle when the Captain's troops were pulled back - but they were also being afflicted by a wave of negative emotions coming from the Bryn on the Skag.

The Padawan sheathed his weapons and clasped his hands together as he tried to focus. In a way, it looked like he was making a prayer, and in truth, it might not have been a bad idea, for he needed a miracle. Slowly but surely, a light started to shimmer from his being. His capacities with Force Light were limited, but he had an affinity with it. As the battle kept raging on around him, the effects from the dark side power started to recede, both among those near him, and for the Jedi himself. Many negative emotions lingered, but at least, they were his own.

The Concord troopers had been pressed, pushed and punished for too long. Mathieu drew his sabre and ignited it as it pointed to the real threat - Argaloth, the enormous Bryn whom had been identified as the main shot caller. "Push on!" he hollered for his allies to hear. But he did not stop there. Mathieu reached out to Arlon over the comms "Captain, we need to push hard, we need to push with the Frittatas" There were a few moments of silence from the side of the Captain, but then he gave the command. Ultimately, he agreed with the Morellian's call.

Soon, both troopers and the three Frittata Transports that could still move neared the Bryn force, drowning those in the frontline in their thermal distortion fields, forcing them to either fight blind or retreat. Meanwhile, the soldiers utilised their high mobility, getting around the large monsterous foes they were fighting and firing their cold-based weaponry where it would hurt the most. This was a risky tactic, for going into a melee with a Bryn trooper was suicide. They all knew this, but they pushed on anyways.

Naturally, not all the Concord troopers were in close quarters. The few remaining survivors from the Fifth Platoon whom's Frittata Argaloth had torn asunder were fighting from the rear - they had been exposed to the worst of it all and they had survived. It was only natural for them to be allowed to stay back - they were still very involved in the fighting, but they were spared from being at the very front. Their squad leader called in over the comms "That was our last grenade but we made it count. Still got a few Sundaes to spare. We'll hit their centre hard." Arlon responded "Roger that. Keep it up you're the-..." The captain was cut off as the squad leader spoke up once more "Captain! There's a lar-" her voice suddenly disappeared from the comms that were now being filled with static. Mathieu looked over to their location and saw how the last soldiers of the Fifth Mechanised Kastolar Platoon had been squashed under the boulder that Argaloth had thrown.

He kept a brave face. Many eyes were on him now, for the light that he had brought had given many of his fellow fighters hope. But once more, he knew that he had failed them. If he had only been a little more observant, a little quicker, a bit less hesitant and more centred, he could have saved them. A warning call, a nudge on the large boulder with the force, maybe pulling one or two away before the impact. It would have made all the difference.

Unexpectedly, one trooper came by and put a hand on the young Morellian's back. Their eyes met, Mathieu's sad ones, with the trooper's weathered and equally sad ones. Words weren't needed to realise that they understood each other. They knew the hardship that the other was going through. "For their memory" Their eyes stayed connected for what felt like minutes. The Padawan blinked hard as he started to nod. And then he charged, throwing himself into battle, blocking, slashing, dodging and thrusting. It was only a matter of time before he had made it deep into Bryn lines, even to the point where he would inevitably appear on the other side where Cassie and Argaloth were. Still, they were not completely cut off, for the Frittata which had been standing the furthest away from the Ravager was pulling up on the flank near the hilltop to secure a route of escape for the two Jedi if needed.

With a cut and a swirl, Mathieu eventually came out from the thick of the fight, having worked his way through the Bryn lines. It was only then he realised how massive the beast was. "Watch out!!" he screamed, seeing the punches thrown in the Knight's direction. The Padawan started making his way towards them "Cassie, you've got to stop picking impossible tasks" he said, trying to keep a jestful tone. He always tended to exchange jabs with his friend - but keeping his spirits up now was difficult.

Beltran Rarr · Oct 26, 2020

Beltran Rarr

Location: Jumping into Chasm, Marketplace
Objective: Repel Bryn'adul Assault, order most of his troops to retreat from marketplace, deliver a few small but powerful explosive presents for

Primarch Drek'ma 's not-so-little friend
Allies: SJC and Allied Personnel, Starlin Rand, Adrian Vandiir, Syd Celsius,

Jyoti Nooran ,
Enemies: The Bryn'adul (open to all interactions),

Osam ,

Keldothera ,

Gordrak ,

Primarch Drek'ma (fixing to interact indirectly via Guardian Servitor)
Loadout:

Armor: Katarn Mk. III Light Powered Armor
Clothing: Katarn Undersuit, Bantha Load-bearing system
Primary Weapons: 10mm Pulse Rifle
Secondary Weapons: Death-Dealer Handcannon (drop holster, right hip - loaded with Sith-Killer Ammunition), Pulse Pistol (chest holster) Lightsaber (clipped to waist), Lightsaber Pike (strapped to back), Wrist Mounted Blaster (right wrist), Tactical Vibroblade (right boot), Incendiary Grenades, Cryo-Ban Grenades

Commanding: Paladin Company (115 Rangers active)

1st Platoon:
Status: Major Casualties (8 Rangers) - (Melee/Front Line)
Loadout:

Armor: Katarn Mk. III Light Powered Combat Armor
Weapons: Bonesplitter" Heavy Variable Assault Blaster Rifle, OS-126 10mm Pulse Projectile Pistol, 2 x LPD-16 "Pioneer" Phase Machete, Assorted Grenades

2nd Platoon:
Status: Minor Casualties (42 Rangers) - (Midline) - Currently retreating out of Marketplace
Loadout:

Armor: Katarn Mk. II - Paladin Variant
Weapons: Predator" Heavy Assault Projectile Rifle , OS-126 10mm Pulse Projectile Pistol, 1 x LPD-16 "Pioneer" Phase Machete, Assorted Grenades

3rd Platoon:
Status: Significant Casualties (29 Rangers) (Support/Heavy Weapons) - Heavy weapons sections (approx 30 Rangers) currently retreating out of Marketplace
Loadout:

Armor: Katarn Mk. II - Paladin Variant
Weapons: OS-127 10mm Pulse Projectile Rifle,M-240 General Purpose Machine Gun, M-107 Anti-Material Rifles, OS-126 10mm Pulse Projectile Pistol, 1 x LPD-16 "Pioneer" Phase Machete, Assorted Grenades

Theme - Red Hands and Black Deeds

instead Drek'ma would send the Dredge who had sealed the exits toward those who still remained within the marketplace, the large creatures would use their excellent hearing to get below the remaining groupings of soldiers and attack them, massive pincer like legs several times larger than a human would tear through the ground, crushing and stabbing at the soldiers whilst the most unlucky would be dragged under, clenched in the hundreds of stalactite like teeth of the Dredge.

The wave of dust that came with the Guardian's breaking of the marketplace made it all but impossible to see, forcing Beltran and his surviving Rangers to use the scanners in their helmets to provide a picture of the environment around them. As the roads disappeared and buildings fell, Beltran watched as the vital signs from his surviving snipers all went dead.

There was nobody left to guide them.

The ground rumbled and shook violently as more and more of the marketplace disappeared down into the chasm the giant worm had created. If there was any question in any of the remaining soldiers' minds that this mission would require them to spend their lives, it was gone.

There was no need to call for volunteers. They were all volunteers.

There was no need for a final, inspiring speech. They had heard it a dozen times before.

There was no need to make peace with their Gods. That had all been done.

Long ago.

All that was left was the mission, victory, and death.

As one, they stepped forward. First one, and another and another. Soon they were jogging. Then they were running, sprinting through the dust and debris. Thirty men and the Captain who led them, using their jump jets to hop over collapsed buildings and dodge falling pieces of rock and duracrete. As they ran, they divided into their teams. Six units of five, each carrying one of the makeshift bombs.

The beast roared, filling the air with so powerful a force that it shook Beltran and his men where they ran, causing several to stumble and more than one to be crushed under the deluge. Entire teams were lost. And yet, the Rangers pressed on.

"Go ahead and scream," Beltran muttered as he led the charge ever closer to the expanding chasm's edge. "It won't save you."

All the com traffic of the battle faded into the background, the plights of the living no longer seemed relevant to the soon to be dead.

(EDIT) As they ran, the ground had come alive with the insect-like Dredge. Like the claws of hell itself, the large pincers of the creatures reached up and plucked men down into the earth. Those who could used their jump jets to get out of the way of the sudden attacks. Others spent their last moments, firing blindly into the ground. A couple even managed to wound their attackers with the chainsaw bayonets on their rifles. (EDIT) But in the end, less than half of the thirty who'd started the sprint would survive to make it to the edge. Eight in total, plus Beltran himself. And only two of the makeshift bombs.

As the darkened chasm approached, the ground crumbling toward them just as fast as they were running toward it, Beltran thought he could make out an outline of part of the beast, roiling and churning underneath the surface. Perhaps that was just his mind's eye. Perhaps it was real.

Or perhaps it was the Force guiding him.

"When we jump," Beltran said to his men, his tone ever calm and collected. "Hone in on my transponder."

In order to win this day, Beltran would have to do something that he had never been able to do before. He had to trust. Trust in the Force, trust in his men, and trust in himself.

"Jump!"

And they did, falling into the darkness toward the Guardian guided by a man who, for the first time in his life, trusted.

Cadere · Oct 26, 2020

Location: Outskirts
Troops: Personal squad consisting of 15 8 Kastolar soldiers, 5 4 Mechanised Kastolar Platoons (dwindling), numerous soldiers carrying, LPD-39 Coldblast Cryoban Grenades, and LPD-37 Coldstream Cryoban Rifles
Equipment: 1x Lightsaber | Personal Light Armor | FF-CAR1 | 3x Stimpacks | Comlink | Holoprojector
Allied tag:

Mathieu Brion
Hostile tag: Argaloth
Additional tag:

Targant Howlain

Trust would be a vital component once again, seeing the Bryn Majors focus fire on Mat drew concern from the Knight but he needed to trust he'd handle himself. The numerous loss of their troops grew evermore heart wrenching, he was used to the wounds these mass deaths were creating in the Force but it didn't matter, these were brave men and women dying in ways no one should have to experience and it was awful to witness - regardless if they won or not, he'd be sure to honor those lost this day.

Continuing his march toward Argaloth, he witnessed the colossal Bryn tear a boulder from the earth and positioned himself to throw it at a platoon of soldiers - he hoped that by drawing Argaloth's attention away, he would spare the troops. Foolish optimism. Cas heard the cries and subsequent static of the Fifth platoon. His brows furrowed and he growled in anger, picking up speed as his fury seemed to have produced a second wind in the Jedi Knight.

Argaloth finally turned his attention to Cas, and to his surprise, spoke Basic. Gripping the hilt of his lightsaber tight, the two enemies charged toward each other and when he was close enough, he heard Mathieu call out, performing a large leap over the Bryn he narrowly avoiding the fatal strike. The Bryn was surprisingly quick and if Cas was a second later, he sensed the outcome of this battle would be with one less Kiffar. Planting a helm split as he passed over Argaloth's head. It didn't matter whether it effected him or not, it wasn't his plan. "You speak Basic? And here I thought you were big, ugly and dumb. Guess I'd better rethink my biases." he quipped as gravity returned him back to the ground.

"Gotta say, it's a nice change of pace - people I usually fight get off on bad guy speeches, but you're not much of a talker are you?" the Kiffar continued, spinning himself around to face Argaloth, rolling out of the way of a charging Heavy as he said so. Then Cas sensed something, it was fleeting but he sensed the familiar shadow of the Dark side cloud his senses - feelings of fear, despair, confusion and anguish washed over him, feelings he was all too familiar with but he knew they were not his own right now. Fortunately, the effects of the Dark side ability he sensed were able to be resisted by the Jedi Knight through deep concentration and mental barriers he formed in his mind - it paid to have been apprenticed to a powerful telepath in

Sakadi Marathi Sinvala . Whatever it was, the presence grew stronger but right now he needed to focus on the Bryn he was facing.

Cas smirked at Mat's jest "Wouldn't be me if I didn't!" he retorted back playfully, although there was a hint of dread in his voice "I'm glad you're alive." the Kiffar added with honesty. Returning his focus to the ongoing battle the Jedi Knight would evade any incoming attacks sent his way, before making his way over to the body of one of their allies, it wasn't hard to come by at this rate, using a hint of the Force to conserve his reservoir, Cas picked up a Coldstream rifle and shot two blasts off toward Argaloth's torso and right leg before ultimately throwing the entire rifle at him. It had ran out of ammo.

Laertia Io · Oct 26, 2020

(Jedi Order Theme Song Power Up)

("Think" by Kaleida)

The Bryn'adul Elites attacked with the fury of an enraged Rancor.

There was no fury at the moment in Laertia. Just the opposite.

Cold. Raw, biting cold to the violence around her. It was a coping mechanism she had developed to survive Nar Shaddaa. She was cold to the screams of agony she elicited as she tore a Juggernauts head clean out of his body and used it to bludgeon another to death, her mechanical arm sword parrying attacks from other Master Swordfighters amonst their elites, the Jedi and Soldiers around her viciously hacking into the warriors of

Keldothera and whoever else commanding these warriors to fight, inspired by Laertia's sheer refusal to die.

She had faced hopeless odds before, at Atrisia. Yet here she stood, no chainsaw, still killing, the song of The BFG Division flowing through her veins as her sword punctured the head of another Juggernaut after brutally hacking away at him with her Lightsaber, its ash blade cutting through their hide much quicker.

The crashing starship devastated everything around them, the earth quakes throwing all but the strongest to the ground. Laertia herself was thrown to the ground for a few seconds, having cut a Drone in half with her gray Darksaber.

The blade had been a gift from "Ursula". Laertia didn't want to use it but it was still one of her best blades, plus, unlike the Sword of Cinndurr, it's power sources were properly understood.

She couldn't help but feel she had once understood something very important about that terrible sword, and its burning and eternal flames at the heart of the crystal that powered it. The black sliver at the center that made it resemble a cat's eye...

The Ash Blade of "Ursula" would do the job of that blade in terms of cutting through thick, tough Bryn'adul flesh, her arm sword as back up, though she had to slice harder with that arm to get proper tears.

She was in a cold, but quiet place as she rose from the ground cut down the Elites rushing her position, trying to take aim. She had to be to survive at the moment.

She knew what death and suffering did to the Force. She knew at some point killing does more harm than good.

But in the Bryn'adul's case, NOT killing them WOULD result in greater harm. And unfortunately for enemies like this, the only way to kill them was to over-kill them because most of them were built like a freight train, or at least 007 Incredible Hulk Era Lou Ferrignos. (They could even smash!)

As she and the other knights and soldiers pushed ever closer to

Sylok'Vanari , Laertia distantly felt her Part-Time Apprentice

Beltran Rarr dive into the abyss after the deadly abomination the Bryn'adul had summoned.

Laertia impaled one in the face for him.

Good Hunting, my Part Time Apprentice. May The Force Be With You.

Laertia impaled another one in the face for the rest of Beltran's team, beheading one and freezing an Elite's head solid, the other Knights instinctively mimicking her Form One now in a much more fluid manner.

She suddenly felt her power being clamped down upon. The damned Shaman's heretical orange threads in The Force attempted to clamp down on her electric, Keanu-Green Force Threads.

The boulders were launched at them all. She struggled to break the clamp on her power as the boulders flew to them, even as they were forced to cut down Bryn'adul from literally all sides. The debris hurled towards them.

Give yourself to The Dark Side, my dear Julia...The Amalgam hissed in her skull.

She was nearby. She had to be. What if she was one of the Bryn'adul?

What if the Amalgam was fighting alongside her in disguise?

She wouldn't be that crazy. That trolling...

...would she?

Wait a minute, this was the same Witch who had cosplayed as a Jedi for more than two decades...

Whether she was or wasn't, there was no time to worry about it.

The Boulders sped toward her as she caved in another Bryn'adul skull.

(Taps Circle rapidly to break free)

Her sword impaled one through the Brain. The first boulders started to impact, crushing a few soldiers and knights.

(Taps Triangle to Counter)

Laertia at last threw his strands off hers with a cold, focused determination that learning Form One had instilled in her, but not before a boulder had crushed another few. She caught the next few and used them to smash a pair of Juggernauts to death before brutally grinding the caught stones through enemy forces, catching a few more with her mind and hurling them fast and with a spin into a cloud of Baeduran firing on her troops, smashing them into bags of gore. The will of the enemy around her seemed to break suddenly, even the juggernauts starting to back away from her in fear now. The Jedi and the soldiers, upon seeing the enemy at last starting to break, fought harder than ever.

Laertia stared right at the Shaman as the enemy's courage momentarily failed, and she pulled a plasma grenade to her hands with telekinesis and charged, the enemy shooting at her and rushing her only to be force pushed or pulled by her fellow Jedi who charged with her supported by every soldier still standing.

She gutted Bryn'adul, her blades flying around her with her mind, the grenade arming itself for three seconds...

...and then Laertia teleported it 007 meters behind the Shaman, where it detonated soon after...

Keldothera

Primarch Drek'ma

Osam

Yula Perl

Caedyn Arenais

Gordrak · Oct 26, 2020

Location: Among the dead and dying

Objective: Link up with Galak

Allies: Osam / Galak

Equipment: Verikast Armor / Glaive

" H-Help! Somebody! " A voice shouted out weakly amongst the ruins. It was a trooper who managed to survive the fallout from the cruiser that had made landfall. He had crawled from a tomb of his own though he was far more wounded than Gordrak. The trail of blood following said man meant he likely wouldn't get very far without help. As Gordrak closed in on the wounded trooper, he rolled onto his back. He had heard the footfall and thought it a friend only to look on in horror as Gordrak closed in on him. The man withdrew a sidearm and tried to steady his erratic aim. He managed to fire off two blasts that caught on Gordraks armor. One had struck his left shoulder whilst the other struck his chest. Being a Baedurin, Gordrak could survive pitiful attempts on his life like that. Gordrak knelt beside the human and closed his right hand around the mans head. Saying nothing, Gordrak hefted the man into the air one handed, his victim flailing somewhat. "Vermin. Fit only to die." Gordrak squeezed and a cry rang out from the man Gordrak held. Death wouldn't be instantaneous as Gordrak wanted the man to suffer. He wanted all of them to suffer one way or another. After several seemingly pregnant moments, the mans body went limp as his skull shattered. Blood and gore ran from Gordraks hands as he let the corpse fall to the ground. Saying nothing, Gordrak continued walking. The Emissary had called for him and he would obey.

As he walked, Gordrak took stock of the dead around him. Humans, Drael, and their undead versions littered this place. Several undead still seemed to function though they were either trapped or in various states all too damaged to move properly. He was alone for now or that was what he had thought. As Gordrak pressed through a broken building, he found a fellow Juggernaut. The Juggernaut was alive though that wouldn't be the case for much longer. A piece of metal had impaled him and essentially trapped him in place. In addition to being pinned, the Juggernauts face was an absolute mess. He couldn't see who had arrived and presumed it was an enemy. He reached weakly for the glaive laying not far from his side, unable to grab it due to being pinned. Gordrak walked forward silently and grabbed the glaive, taking it away from the Juggernaut despite there being little to no chance of him grabbing it. Weak. Pitiful. This was a being unfit to continue the fight let alone see the Chieftains will be done. Gordrak simply left without saying a word. He heard the Juggernaut attempt to speak but he didn't care. What was one more corpse added to the pile anyway?

Gordrak saw it the moment he rounded the corner.

Osam and his forces were engaging an enemy attempting the encirclement of the Emissaries forces. Wasting no more time, Gordrak began to run whilst keeping to cover. All he had was a glaive and he felt trying to get close to anyone at this moment would be most unwise. In addition to his lack of any ranged capability, Gordrak was wounded. He could still fight but it would be far too sloppy for his taste. Finally, Gordrak was a rather big target. His size made him incredibly easy to hit more often than not. All he could do was link up with the Emissary and hopefully get his hands on a weapon. Vaulting over a slab of building debris, Gordrak advanced toward the Emissary,

Galak . Upon arriving, Gordrak stabbed his Glaive into the ground and leaned upon it. " Reporting as ordered. " Gordrak looked down at the ground for a moment before speaking further. " Though I'm all that's left of my unit. "

Galak · Oct 27, 2020

Objective A: Kreeta City

Allies;

Targant Howlain |

Osam |

Gordrak |

Tathra Khaeus |

Kelmor | Krarolk T'manu | Ostak Cl'mana | Argaloth |
Enemies:

Jyoti Nooran | Caedyn Arenais |

The Monster |
Gear: Triad Chaingun | Verikast Armour | Cleaver Axe | Crusher Mace
Accompanying: 5,000 Drones [Using Carbines], six hundred Juggernauts, 200 Heavies | 200 Grenadiers |

Captain Fara: 500 Drones | 60 Juggernauts | 20 Grenadiers |

The personal forces of the Emissary had done well. But there were thousands more involved in the conflict following their lead, but now that force would come to a head. More and more would rally to Galak's side, thousands of Drones joined them as they took hold of the steps leading to the epicentre of the city. Their grip on Kreeta City was close to being fatal for the forces trapped within - they were leaderless, directionless and weak. It was a surprisingly pathetic defence, compared even to some of the isolated worlds they'd faced against. Now that they had the upper-hand, they'd cleave through the Silver Jedi easily.

The call came from Osam, the marketplace forces had made it under his command. He was thankful that Keldothera had seen reason, able to look past her prejudice. Osam and his warriors would engage the enemy whilst the rest of the reinforcements from the marketplace would join with Galak's force.

"Good work Osam. Cover our rear, we will make the push for the city!"

His eyes moved to the steps ahead, the Palace and the heart of Kreeta was just beyond their reach. But soon enough it would be theirs, and there was nothing the enemy could do to stop them. Galak turned to Captain Fara, pointing to her forces.

"I want you to take yours and Paviums forces to defend the rear, pinch the enemy between us and Osam. Set up defensive positions."

One final effort was all that remained. He looked about his fellow warriors, fighting for so long. Some were exhausted, but they had a hunger for victory in their eyes unlike he had ever seen before. They had endured so much, and would do so again. He would lead them out of the dark, he would honour the Chieftain. That was when he heard a thud, metal against stone as Gordrak arrived. He was alone, battered and bruised.

Galak understood the losses he had suffered. He remembered when his unit was his world too. He placed his hand on the massive Baedurins shoulder, giving a light squeeze.

"Ashaka here, now!" He called out, a few Ashaka were already tending to their wounded. One ran to Gordrak's side, using the force to ease his wounds.

"I'm sorry. Take a moment, rest. We make for our final push soon!" He shouted, turning to his kin as they roared in approval. He took the Triad from his back, a massive chaingun.

"Use this, Gordrak. I'm itching to get up close and personal." Galak spoke with a vicious glee as he took the Cleaver Axe and Mace into each hand. The Emissary began his move towards the front of their established line, he would lead them as the Titan would have wanted. He hoped Tathra was alright, but he couldn't think of that. Now now, not until the battle was won.

Gianna Aegis · Oct 27, 2020

Location: Outskirts [Bryn Crash Site]
Equipment: Astrea Robes | Heart of Aceso | Heaven's Wish | Heaven's Embrace | Sol & Astra
Allies: SJC
(Fr)Enemy: Bryn
Tag:

Tathra Khaeus
Objective: Halting the return of

Tathra Khaeus to the battlefield.

_________________________________________________________________

She never felt it when the Titan let go.

The less than subtle impact with the ground jarred the Jedi Knight enough to wake her, but the unforgiving reality she faced was anything but pleasant. Her body immediately rolled to the side, hair sticking to her skin, as she involuntarily released a hacking, wrenching cough that burst from her chest. It came hard enough to leave a stitch in her side. The sound made it seem altogether too dry and too harsh while trembling hands came up to cradle bruised flesh. As if that light touch would somehow help ease the dull, raw ache. Gianna struggled to inhale, to think, and her stomach tensed while she nearly dry-heaved. Over and over she tried to breathe but a muffled whistle coupled with pain and light-headedness told her that her airway was likely blocked. There were welts against the pallid epithelium of her throat that were still red and raised.

Had he crushed her windpipe?

Jade eyes burned while she squeezed them shut and her slender form curled in on itself. The young woman remained silent in a fetal position on the floor of the trench, laying in the dirt, while the distant hum of her lightsabers added to a sense of white noise. While the Draelvasier bayed at the sky and met the true fruits of his endeavors; she remained still. Lifeless. As if her body somehow needed to reboot to function properly now that she could get at least some oxygen into her bloodstream.

The orb around her neck still held a faint glow. It was less than it had been, dimmer, but still flickering here and there against the tan of her robes. Gianna’s eyes fluttered open and she tried to make out the hazy shape of the Chieftain, her would be murderer, not far away. He was on his knees. Crying out, screaming, with anger born agony that caused him to slam his fists into the ground. Disbelief. With every breath he howled. He railed against the Force that worked it’s will in the same way that a child tried to catch a roaring waterfall in their hands.

Now, he could see. Tathra Khaeus could see everything.

Every cry of despair that she had felt though the ether in distant echoes now resounded like an ear-splitting siren. There would be no way for the red-skinned monster to ignore it. He would hear what she heard. He would feel as she felt—As they felt. As his victims felt. That pain would run through him with a sheer intensity would ring in his past, present, and future. He had stolen the lives of millions. Billions. He had left a hole in worlds. A hole the galaxy. A ravenous, cruel thing, that could only be temporarily satiated with blood. More, blood. It didn’t care where it came from. Who suffered.

Near-Human, Drael, or otherwise. Blood. Fear. Anger. Hate. Negativity. Darkness. This it craved.

This it would have.

Gianna tried to stop the stinging sensation in her eyes that heralded tears to come, but for the moment, they fell like raindrops unnoticed. She felt blind as they rolled hotly, leaving clear tracks on dirt-smudged features. Her actions were a double-edged sword. The Jedi had always been sensitive to the emotional state of others. This was no different. His every high and low was amplified in such a way that the devastating cacophony of his experience crashed against her quietude like lightning in a dark sky. She had never thought that the Bryn’adûl warrior would let her go. She had never thought that she would again see with her own eyes. Feel with her own hands. Never again, had she expected to see the light, the connection that wound through all things.

The Jedi had been resigned in the last few moments before the wastes of Nar Kreeta disappeared and blessed nothing swept her away. If her sacrifice could possibly spare others? Spare one? A dozen? More? It was worth it.

Finding that her time had not yet come to pass was sobering. Like a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped on her head during the hottest day of the summer solstice. She knew where she was, the planet, even if the smoke made it feel like twilight. There and not there. The red-haired Nabooian felt chilly, shocked, and numb. In other instances when she had channeled the Force for extended periods of time, she felt weaker, but still warm. Tingly. Like she’d somehow stuck her finger in a light socket.

Now—She just felt cold. It was as if interfacing with that much hate and aggression had shut her down.

Gianna tugged metaphysically on the lingering energy that flowed and pulled it around her. She held it near, with a tightening grip, like clutching a jacket close in the winter. It helped. It soothed some of the rawness that had frozen her nerve endings and let her clear her mind. It allowed her to find focus so that her throat could mend properly. Enough so she could stop gasping and choking.

Even while it was full of smoke, ash, and unmentionable elements—Air had never been sweeter.

Slowly, she pushed up into a sitting position. Her hand fell as she went to call her lightsabers and for a moment they didn’t respond. Her abilities were sluggish. Gianna dragged them across the muddy-reddish topsoil and picked them up, deactivated, so that she could put them back where they belonged. As long as the Titan was trapped in the nightmare of his own weaving, he would scarcely see her. Barely notice. She cleared her throat and winced as she tried to speak.

Nothing. No sound. Speaking would have to wait.

She padded slowly toward the bellowing Draelvasier and came around to stand before him. In all of his mighty strength and unstoppable prowess, she had never expected to see him this way. Broken. The towering giant that had nearly cut the thread of her life, swiftly, and without hesitation had succumbed to the anguish he had sewn. He saw his response, his tears, as a weakness. Gianna saw what she had already known. They were not so different.

He asked her, no, begged her to stop. Her gaze softened.

There were many kinds of torture. Infinite forms of pain and torment. One did not need to bleed or to have limbs removed, to fall prey to excruciating agony. This newly opened portal would scream through his psyche as if it were lighting his mind on fire. Burning him, through and through, while leaving an imprint that could never fade. Not because she had done anything.

It was because he allowed it.

Because, even this creature, on the back of his black heart knew the names of the kin he had killed. Knew the fighting spirit of the forces he had lost on Yurb. The Bryn’adûl weren’t simply the mindless horde of psychopaths the rest of the galaxy painted them to be. If they were—He wouldn’t be on his knees before her. Sobbing. Pleading, for her to shut the gate. To spare him the immeasurable cost of his glory. It was a price no being should be asked to pay.

“I—”, she tried to reply, but it was raspy, and scarcely there. He would never hear her over his own cries. “I c-can’t.”

Once again, she found herself reaching for the Force. It was dangerous. She had already pushed herself past her limits. Her every movement felt as if it weighed a thousand stones. Every part of her ached. The artifacts that she wore could only heal her so much. They could only work so well before they were tapped and required time, or energy, to recharge. Gianna had to dig deep to find a soft flowing well-spring of a familiar friend. The strength of it, though it had moved from an ocean to a babbling brook, was surprising. Somehow—She was still herself. Throughout it all.

The Force was still with her.

Gentle light flooded downward from the top of her head to her feet. Neither too bright nor too dim. The barren trench began to respond and little patches of grass began to swell from nothing. She took another step forward and the smallest of blue flowers curled up from the footprint she’d left behind. Her grasp was tenable. Shaken, tired, and drained—But still adequate. When she spoke next her lips wouldn’t move. It was the same mental voice that she had forgiven him with. It would fall on the fire of his visions in a cooling wave. It wouldn’t last…But for a moment, just a moment, she could give peace.

Allow him sight; without suffering.

<< The path is open. I cannot stop this, even if I wanted to.>>

The telepathic words would give him something to hold on to. Something within the light to remind him where the ground ended and the sky began. Most, would say he didn’t deserve it. Questions lingered in the back of her mind. The screams of those he had personally brought to a grisly end didn’t just live within his mind. She heard them too. Why did he get to live when they had been denied? Why was his life worth sparing? Why couldn’t she raise her lightsaber and simply bring this galactic massacre to a grinding halt. Many of the Jedi fighting near Kreeta City wouldn’t have hesitated. Gianna, simply, could not do it. The wrongness was indescribable.

It was not the way.

<<You have lied to yourself and to your people for so long that you cannot see truth. This bloodshed is not necessary. It is not justice. It is arrogance and xenophobia which has led to murder and atrocities running rampant through the Western Reach. The swath of carnage that you’ve left behind has created something far more lethal than you will ever be. You are not law unto yourself, Titan.>>, she murmured, placing the puzzle pieces together, bit by bit, while that same unwavering corruption lingered in the back of her mind. She pushed it away with light. With her faith. It had no power here. <<There are rules to the universe and you’ve broken them.>>

<<What you see, what you feel; this darkness is your future if you continue as you are.>>

No matter the darkness, no matter the evil, hope would always exist for those that reached for it. If he wanted his people to survive the coming seasons, he would take the connection from the Force in stride. It gave him the memory, the history, of every ill deed he had ever committed. It showed how it changed things. Changed worlds. It offered the effects of an uncontrollable ripple effect.

If he did not hear the Force, now he would find that his victories would soon turn sour. The time he spent celebrating would be equal to the time he spent burying his own kin when the vile wave crashed back down. War had its price. Billions, were dead.

Billions.

And for what?

Nothing. Nothing, at all.

Gianna withdrew. She let her voice fade from his mind as he requested in the beginning. He would feel her absence. In place of it—Only the Force remained. It did not seek pain, or confusion, though that might have been a side effect. It didn’t actually seek anything at all. It granted enlightenment in visions that were accurate beyond measure. The red-haired woman stepped back. Now, they would wait. He would endure as he had been created to.

She would keep watch, perhaps, while her own words came back to haunt her. If she followed this path of non-violence—What would it cost? What would their future be? Who would pay the price for her inability to spill blood, even, when it ran dark as night?

The Force had no answer for that.

So, she lives! She still won't kill him though. Tries appealing to his "better" nature as if there is one, but that's not really up to her. Hinting that violence begets violence and that there's always a bigger fish in the pond. Eventually, he will go too far. Someone or something perhaps of his own design will eat him figuratively speaking and destroy all he stands for. Sad. You would think soylent greening people would nail the das boot faster...But Gia is a pacifist at heart.

Where is a diet Sith to do some dirty work when u need one?

Amaru Vusa · Oct 27, 2020

Location: Outskirts
Objective: Protect the City
Allies: SJO
Enemies: Brynadul, Engaging:

Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir
Equipment: Jedi Battle Armour - Single Lightsaber - Light-Shield (right forearm)

The power in the repulsorlifts weren't as powerful as he had been hoping. For his quick thinking he had been reworded with a bloodcurdling howl of pain from the Draelvasier. They do feel pain. But it still hardly faltered, not to the degree that he had been hoping for. Still, some part of him knew it wasn't enough, perhaps if he had had bigger boots.

As he came down, he found his crushgaunt made contact with the creatures face, right in the chin. The sound of the crack was audible, even through what felt like his blood pumping in his ears and the adrenaline that raced through him. He was in tune with the Force, heightening his senses. Combat was where he excelled, and felt like... Himself. Every move in battle made more sense to him than anything else in life. But there had been a growing, underlying feeling of dread as the Draelvasier kept coming. The alien had the wherewithal to withstand everything he could throw and still snatch up his arm.

That blade she had was angling up towards his gut as he was jerked forwards to the beast.

The design of the armour had given him a choice. Additional equipment, or additional protection. And he had gone for the latter, more protective plates securing that midsection, and when that kukri blade was held out to skewer him, his left hand moved into action just as the blade pressed into his phrik carrier plates. As a reflex, he tried his best to tuck in his stomach as the aliens blade punctured his suit of armour, to reduce the impending damage. It sunk several inches. He didn't know kind of lasting damage it'd do, not yet. Simultaneously as that blade was penetrating his metal guarded abdomen, the telltale sound of a Snap-Hiss could be heard, and between them the violet plasma beam exploded into life, slashing upwards as she made an attempt to skewer, right at the elbow joint to dismember and disconnect

Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir from her weapon.

If she continued that headbutt, the upwards slash of the lightsaber was without a doubt on a path to shear the front of her face right off.

Keldothera · Oct 27, 2020

Location/Objective: Marketplace > Kreeta City
Allies:

Gordrak |

Galak |

Gordrak |

Tathra Khaeus
Enemies: Caedyn Arenais |

The Monster |

Jyoti Nooran |
Equipped: Kukri | Glaive | ~~Kraker~~ | Splitter |
Forces: One hundred and sixty-two Juggernauts alongside forty Grenadiers and fifty-five Heavies | Nine Rhivaks

The droids didn't like that she'd blasted apart one of their own with her Splitter. She looked to the air at the sound of thrusters as one of the Commando's would take flight and open fire with a warhead firing right down on her position. Kelda trusted that her Genera's armour would protect her to some degree, but still she ran from corner - getting hit by fire from the droids at the same time. When the explosion erupted, the cover she'd been behind was nearly entirely decimated as the shockwave flung her. The General crashed through the wall of a crumbled building, landing on her face as a stretch of tissue was torn from her face - grazed and bleeding. She spat out a loose tooth as she pushed herself up, the pain of the kinetics of the blast was worse than any fire.

But ultimately she was thankful to be separate from her forces when that explosive hit. At least from this position she still had a decent angle on the battle but not one any droid or commando could get a vantage on without blowing out the foot. The battle seemed to be going, but she couldn't tell as to which side was going to come out on top. The Rhivaks were cornered, but they didn't need range to be deadly. The massive creatures barrelled through debris and droids, using their massive pronged horns to send Commando and Machine alike careening through the air, making new pathways by themselves.

The forces of the Bryn that had been in the buldings now collapsed used their new cover to circle round the enemy positions whilst the main focus remained entangled with the 'commandos', making it difficult for the droids to above to get any clear shoots. Team of five Juggernauts each would track down the individual droids, but it would take them a minute to find them.

That was when the General's communication stone pulsated, the typical sign that a Syphon was in the area. No doubt they could smell the droids, they'd disabled most if not all of the mines set at this point. But they were still hungry.

"Shamans, coordinate Syphons within the vicinity. I want those droids as useful as scrap."

They were an unseen enemy, but the closer they got - hiding amongst the destruction of the battlefield the more intense their syphoning abilities would become. In fact, it was two of them. She knew Syphons, they would get themselves killed if the Shamans did not control them. They had to stay hidden. The electronic equipment, any technology on the battlefield would find itself beginning to fault - it would be slow at first but within minutes any technology in the immediate area would be drained of any practical use. But the Juggernauts had no intention of leaving, in fact they were quite happy to have a good scrap.

Keldothera would wait for the perfect moment as the combat begun. She fired, aiming right for the upper-back of the soldier engaging Sylok in combat. They needed the Ashaka alive. The Tachael ordered it.

Argaloth(Dead) · Oct 27, 2020

Atmospheric theme

Location: Outskirts of Nar Kreeta City
Troops: 2 0 Ravager Brute, 3 1 Juggernaut Corps, consisting of 40 units each with various types of Juggernaut units, such as Captain, Major, ~~Minor~~, Grenadier and Heavy, ~~Drones~~ within each company and a batch of 10 0 Drael Skags beast mounts.
Hostile tag:

Cadere and

Mathieu Brion

It had turned into a battle of endurance between the two forces having very little space between each other, but it did seem to work, retreating back into the thermal field. The aim of the Minors, at least, was just a tad worse, whereas the Majors, Heavies and Grenadiers actually used their disadvantage to their advantage. By knowing the direction they retreated back, the units started to focus fire in that direction and it might not be one hundred per cent accurate, but they at least fired the correct direction.

The Majors noticed quickly the thermal field started to move towards them and would soon completely surround the Juggernaut. <"Pass the grenades to the Minors!"> Ordered the Majors to the Grenadiers who gave up spare grenades for their launcher. What happened next would surely take the Kastolar soldiers by surprise. As the Kastolar soldiers advanced along with their Frittata Transports, they would hear a combined warcry from the Bryn. Every single Minor warrior charged out of cover, storming directly towards the Kastolar's advancing forces, tanking the firepower they received from the Kastolars.

At first, it looked like a resort, getting up close to the Kastolar soldiers and in part, that was true. However, they Bryn Minor Juggernaut wasn't charging to fight, but to blow themselves up and so they did. Every other Bryn warriors had dug low as a chain reaction of enormous explosions set off as those that made it slammed the Bryn Shot's grenades into the ground. Some even blindly made it pass the Kastolar forces and hammered their large grenades into the closest Frittata, causing as much collateral damage to it as possible.

With that said, every single Minor died in the risky but calculated suicide charge by the Majors, but then, along with the Grenadiers and Heavy juggernaut forces continued to fire, doing some heavy spraying of fire, hopefully taking as many of them as possible that survived the chain explosion.

The helm split did little more than scratch the surface as he got behind Argaloth, only to have an arm flying insanely fast towards him with just as much strength as the other attack. Argaloth did not waste time or give them any break, coming at them with incredibly fast strike and swing as he kept advancing on them.

Argaloth's blood was burning so hot on adrenaline, that when Cas fired the Coldstream rifle, the enormous Ravager brute just took it, tanked the cold fire like it was nothing. Like a raging bull, Argaloth ignored the rifle hitting him as he with his strong powerful arms tore up the ground, just by running. Funnily enough, Argaloth never spoke back to Cas's joking and felt more like an animal wanting to tear both Jedi apart.

Just as Mathieu and Cas managed to get space between them and Argaloth, the gorilla-like walking Ravager brute launched himself at both, raising his fists into the air and just hammered them into the ground with a primal roar. The ground around Argaloth shattered under the insane force it was placed under, making the ground crack and shake for just a few seconds where the Jedi landed.

The places Cas had hit, had both surprising and weirdly done nothing to the Ravager brute, despite Cas hitting dead on Argaloth's chest and leg with his Coldstream rifle.

Sylok'Vanari · Oct 27, 2020

Location: Deeper into the School Courtyard
Objective: Endure, Discover, Unleash. Win the City!
Forces: Army of Ashaka Ik'Straktors | Scattered Drones | x5 Personally Assigned Juggernauts | x3 Ashaka Battlemasters (Ignore the Necromancy, Not a Thing.)
Gear: Model A - Verikast Drone Armor | Barricas Oil | Superior Restoration Mutagen | Barad Kukri | x4 Barad Impact Grenades |
Allies:

Tathra Khaeus |

Galak |

Sethrak |

Osam | Krarolk T'manu | Kar'dak |
Enemies:

The Monster & Company |

Laertia Io

Motionless.

Like a figure that rose from the clouds of destruction, Sylok stood. He had heaved levitating stone toward both his opponents, each piece finding its wayward mark. In truth, it bought him time. Time to breathe in the midst of war. It was funny, everything around him sank into a deep vision of uncertainty. For the first time his mind calculated nothing and he was stone. The searing pain that enveloped his body began to bare weight. The droplets of blood that continued to pour from his right shoulder ran down to his finger tips. The tiny cracks and crevices of his shell-like anatomy showcased the damage from being flung into solid stone. It wounded him, but the Draelvasier ignored such ineffective measures against him. If anything, the giant starship that crashed into the outskirts of Kreeta city saved him. Sylok knew it was mere luck and the facts were displayed right out in front of him. Sergei would have won and in doing so, would have killed the Weaver in only mere seconds of their bout. Sylok couldn't think on it, he couldn't think on anything. His mind sank into a blank state and his adversaries charged.

The sound of water came over him. A crashing wave of rejuvenation came quickly after. He felt light. The hurt he carried dissipated and his power in the force became a wellspring. Untapped and ready to be unleashed upon the world. Sylok closed his eyes to enjoy it, taking in the soothing sounds of each delicate thread. His mind filled with a new sensation. A confidence that had been buried deep into the grave of his subconscious mind. Then in unison he could hear the hymns of the Ashaka. The tranquil moment began to transform, power being fed to him by each meditating member of the Ashaka. They invigorated him and refueled him for war like an Ion Cannon. The surge of potential embodied him and he was ready to use it. Sylok pictured the well of power in his mind before his eyes snapped open.

The amalgamation of each Ashaka's thread coalesced into an incredible weapon. Every second that Sergei charged, Sylok harnessed more and more of his brothers and sisters living force. This was what it meant to be a Weaver, a true shaman of the Draelvasier. The elements of nature began to break free from their slumber, each one flooding his body with a reminder that they obeyed the Weaver. A sensation of warmth blanketed him, a clear indication of fire. A howling sound of slashing winds tickled his ears, the element of air no longer hiding. In his bones, he felt the vibrations of the planet; the element prime (Earth) ready to heed his call. The last one remained silent, like a calm lake ready to create waves; water. All four made themselves known and yearned for Sylok to let them free.

Sylok's body instinctively lurched backward as Sergei's blade sliced through the air, nearly missing Sylok's face. Another flurry of slashes came, the attack by the steel warrior proven useless as the winds carried the Aeravalin through each and every timed dodged. The tip of his assailant's blade screamed through the air, each successive strike missing by mere meters. Then, a lunge placed Sylok on his back heel. He pivoted and the steel blade slashed through his side, more blood spitting from his midsection. The Weaver's concentration didn't falter, the burning sensation forcing him to time the next few stabs carefully. It didn't matter, a new thread of the force ripped through his being and a warmth of fire presented itself. An explosion from his backside, luckily, Sergei's charge placed him further from the teleported grenade of

Laertia Io . This was new ammunition as Sergei came for another stab. This was it, his chance to finally stop the steel warrior's onslaught. Sylok rebuked, the wellspring in his mind exploded like a geyser.

First, fire overcame him. The explosion from the thermal detonator was clutched and contained. It was of all things, his own. In a flash the flames roared from behind him. Large tails of the explosion flowed outward. Sylok wove the flames around him, the heat making him uncomfortable physically. Then in a flash, he shifted his weight to the side and a rush of wind carried the fire viciously toward both the Jedi and Armored Soldier. This wasn't the end. Sylok ushered another prisoner from its cell, Prime. The manifestation of his power expanded and the ground began to shudder. Dust and stone sifted through the battlefield before large roots sprang from below. Each one surrounding Sergei and attempting to latch onto his metal frame. He would be tied in place in seconds, struggle or not. More roots grew, splitting the earthly ground with a fierce grumble. The entanglements created a wall between Sylok and the Jedi.(

Laertia Io ) It would serve as a living shield, ready to grasp onto any individuals ignorant enough to rush the Weaver.

More deaths came into view as Sylok watched his powers on display. It sickened him. Still, the Syphons would quickly take care of the electrical threats. It was a sin to rely on such things, but even some Draelvasier Technology rivaled that of the enemies own. That, that was different. It was just a display of the Draelvasier's superiority over these weaklings. They hid behind their conveniences. They were a plague to the galaxy, not the Drael. Soon, they too would realize they were no good for the galaxy either. Even if they didn't the Draelvasier would be there to remind them, time and time again.

Sylok took in a deep breath, each tingle of the wellspring ready to be tapped into again, he wasn't just a monster that could harness the force.

Sylok was the force...

Targant Howlain · Oct 27, 2020

Location: Outskirts
Allies: Bryn'adul,

Tathra Khaeus , Argaloth ,

Primarch Drek'ma ,

Galak , Voridus Kerwa ,

Kelmor , Kar'dak , Ostak Cl'mana
Enemies: SJC ,

Cadere ,

Mathieu Brion ,

Gianna Aegis , Vaux Gred
Forces: 1x ~~Drael Skag~~ - Riding, 1x Draeyde Swarm +4x Hive Bomb Draeyde's (3,900) - Dispersed throughout the Outskirts' battlefronts , 4x ~~Hive Bomb~~

The sky and air was alight with neon explosions of colors and the thunderous sounds of artillery fire. Beneath the Skag the ground was upturned by the Drael Skag's massive paws as it galloped, a coincidental rythm of battle was established between these sounds in the ears of Targant. As his rage consumed him further, the Waves of Darkness grew in both effective range and potency. The fear he had sown in others began to fuel him, increasing his emotions into a high.

Targant saw the shifting artillery pieces turning their barrels towards him and his mount and it became obvious to him that he had been declared their target. 'So be it.' he thought to himself, his heels slamming hard against his mount to spur it onwards as fast as possible. The artillery cracked. A second later an exposion to the right of the Skag caused the Skag to bound towards the left. Liquids from the Sundae Shell splattered the Skag and Targant with droplets that showered their now frostbitten flesh and encased the damaged tissue within a thin layer of ice. The Drael Skag let out a roar of pain as it took the brunt of the explosion. Targant raised his clawed hands towards the barriage, once again using his mastery of Force Statis in attempt to halt the incoming projectiles. However, they were too large, fast, and near to be totally stopped. The shells slowed down to speeds capable of being seen by the naked eye and then were thrown to the left with defiant roar from Targant. The shells exploded to the left of the Skag and Targant, but due to the distance and size of the unified explosion, it caused Targant and the Skag to be hurled ten meters to the right.

Targant tumbled and tumbled until coming to a stop. With a pained cough he dug his fingers into the planet beneath him. The pained cries of the Skag ringing out somewhere in the distance. 'All for not. All of it. Weakness.' He thought to himself, raising himself off the ground, his mind racing through all of his challenges up until this point, floating the line between unconsciousness and consciousness as blurred surroundings came back into focus. He faltered forward with a step toward the artillery line of the Captain that ordered the strike. "No. No." He muttered to himself as the Darkside continued to rage around him, shrouding himself in darkness. "No. No!" His voice raised in volume drastically, thunder cracked around him. "I am the storm... I am the bringer of destruction...you...you are nothing! You can't- I will not!" He said to no one and everyone at once, his words barely coherent.

His hands raised on either side of him before joining in front of his chest, they seemed to grasp at nothing. However, soon the darkness that swirled around him and out from him began to materialize into a dark, thundering sphere of Darkside energy. The Waves of Darkness ceased, its effects quickly receeding from the battlefield. With his aura consumed and his will focused, his yellow burning eyes locked onto the artillery line in the distance. His hands shot foward as he bellowed "I AM POWER!" Releasing the concentrated Darkside energy he released a Force Shockwave, corrupted by the Darkside, that grew and shot towards the center of the artillery line that had assaulted him.

Targant's verbal madness faded, his arms falling to his side. His shoulders raised and fell, his exhale coarse. He stilled seethed with rage, but his body was past its limit. Despite his quest for power and dominance, as well as his exceptional connection to the Darkside, Targant was not immortal nor a being of extreme endurance. The frozen ground beneath him crunched as he fell to a knee, his head still raised towards the battle lines of the Silver Jedi. He was unable to keep his bond with the Draeyde Swarms now due to his level of exhaustion, yet they still fought on within the various battles within the Outskirts, the darkness above still consumed all light.

He watched on to see if the blast of Force would deal a fatal blow to his enemies or if he was destined to fail in his final act.

Darkness still covers most of the Outskirts
Draeyde Swarms are still harassing most of the battles within the Outskirts
Targant's Waves of Darkness has ceased
Matthieu's artillery battle line has been counter attacked
Targant is incapable of continuing to fight after heavy use of the Force and taking concussive blasts from artillery. This is likely my final post.

Tathra Khaeus · Oct 27, 2020

Location: Expanded Crash-site/Tower Ruin
Objective: Rip out the parasites vocal chords!
Equipment: Axe | Shield | Armour
Allies:

Galak |

Osam | Ostak Cl'mana | Krarolk T'manu |

Targant Howlain |