Invasion Kill Them All and let God Sort them Out: AC Invasion of TSE held Ziost, Mirial, Ruuria

[Starlin Rand]

Objective I: Judgement Day
Gear: Armor | Lightsaber | Shoto
Tags: Felix Aquila

As Aquila backed off, Starlin’s heart hammered against his ribs, still pumping blood to suit the wild motion of combat. It took time, but at last the pounding drumbeat slowed its frenetic pace. He exhaled, turned off his weapons and allowed his body to reappear, the invisibility spell dissipating.

Waning adrenaline left him sagging, fatigue hitting him hard. His heart felt heavy, carrying the weight of yet another sin, another mistake with dire consequences. Starlin was no longer a boy of seventeen following his wayward master into a battle against his fellows… or so he thought. Now it happened all over again, with him fighting a Light Sider, mistaking him for the enemy. Er, well—was he the enemy? He was here, defending the Dark Side...

Then Aquila spoke, and Starlin’s heavy heart began to harden. His words were far too reminiscent of Laertia Io and her rhetoric about self-righteous Jedi and poor defenseless Sith. He had seen a CIS logo somewhere on Aquila’s gear too, hadn’t he? The Confederates were the ones who were protecting Laertia even though she was a fugitive terrorist wanted by two major factions, defending her even though she had slaughtered hundreds of Jedi—

His hand reached up, fingertips brushing the edge of his eyepatch. Was his being half-blind a spiritual as well as physical affliction?

With great effort, Starlin forced himself to see Aquila as an individual rather than a representative of the Confederacy as a whole, and reduced the current situation to its basic principles, devoid of context. Having done that, there was only one thing left for Starlin to do.

He left.

 

[Laertia Io]

Following: Nuetralizer Spec Ops Team 1 (Martin, Lundgren, Stevenson, Bernthal, Isacc, Hudson, The Arena (Brain Demon Cultist) )

"Ohhhh, what a chit day this has been..." Martin the Model 1 remarked as he sniped another crusader from a rooftop with an NT-242 Rifle

"You always think it's a chit day, Martin." Isacc complained as he blasted the head off an NIO Stormtrooper.

Their brothers could be heard singing battle chants throughout all of New Adasta, ruthlessly slaughtering invaders in organized columns. Missile Turrets were at last revealed in key choke points in the streets, sending deadly, surprise barrages of missiles into tank units, backed up by Wookiee Quad Cannons modified to fire Ion Bolts, to whittle down the shield units on invader tanks, and just kill in general.

Those magical traps the Witches had lain throughout the city were getting a workout also. Occasionally a Crusader would step in an invisible trap, and suffer an effect similar to telekinetic strangulation, their necks breaking easily, Force Sensitives could detect them, and did, but it was often a difficult, time consuming process that often slowed the advances of individual squads, leaving them open to sniping and missile fire. The door to door advances began to suffer massive set backs, Model 1's often already waiting inside houses. A single Model 1 can and has killed squads of well trained, highly experienced soldiers, and today was no exception, Breaching teams getting shredded by Dual Wielding Nuetralizers armed with Disruptors, other doors magically enchanted to explode as soon as they were opened.

This was the Ashlan Crusades first taste of the Nuetralizers, and it was a potent taste. Their soldiers were attacked without mercy by droids that would say chit that was completely fethed up before viciously killing them. Hearing droids laugh and joke like men (Some even doing a provocative dance as they approached heavily wounded victims) while killing like an absolute sociopath was a deeply frightening thing to experience for the churchgoers...

"Dreamboat, look at how they're panicking!" exclaimed the Arena, a Brain Demon Cultist that looked like a beautiful, curvy orange Twi'lek woman in a skintight white Catsuit as she kept them all hidden with her Magic. Hudson was on comms, and Stevenson, Bernthal, and Lundgren were back up assault units as usual.

"It's always nice to see that, isn't it, Sherbet?" Isacc called back to his Witch girlfriend, who he was actively dating under Xiphos's nose, because, well, let's face it, he was kind of a badass, even if he was at a level of crazy Tyler Durden would have balked at.

"I can feel your Mother's power even here..." The Arena said. "She would make a truly powerful Sith. If only she would start using the Darkness to get her way..."

"To be honest, I kinda thought Mom had already crossed over..." Martin muttered.

"No. She's using Heretical techniques taught to her by Darth Themis..." The Arena corrected as she meditated, maintaining the magical stealth field. "She's forcing the Light to obey her somehow. Even The Amalgam doesn't fully understand how it works, despite her familiarity with your Mother's master."

"Y'know, I been meaning to ask...just what is the difference between Mother and normal Sith?" Martin asked as he sniped an Ashlan Knight.

"Normal Sith crave power, and are fueled by hatred and rage. Xiphos doesn't want power, and actively avoids the Dark Side. But her inner calm is not a Jedi's serenity. It is not the calm of being at peace. It is simply sheer determination that has become monomania. Its the weakness of real Light Sith: They can become so consumed by the perceived necessity of whatever act they undertake to supposedly "right the Galaxy" that they become dismissive to the small scale suffering their actions cause like a regular Sith. Mental Instability risk among Light Sith are higher than normal." The Arena answered clinically. "Its why I believe Xiphos a hundred percent when she says she doesn't want to Destroy the Order. Her need to destroy the Bryn'adul is that consuming, that much of a necessity to her. Much like halting or preventing The Gulag Era was Themis's Albatross. It's sorta like a Sunk Cost Fallacy on Steroids."

"So what if she decides destroying The Jedi Order is a necessity?" Isacc wondered.

"Well, Dreamboat, then I suspect you and your brothers will be called to make way more Jedi Corpses. The Jedi she's killed? She's been pretty incidental about it from her perspective: If it happens, it happens. If she decides it needs to happen, that the Jedi truly are a threat? They're gonna hate her guts by the time she's through even more than they already do. It's why Amy is getting a little desperate actually: Why do you think she's got The Battalion trying to seduce her? Even she was caught off guard by how stubborn and strong willed her protege is. By Amy's estimate, Xiphos should have cracked and embraced the Darkness long before this point. That she hasn't has placed her in a considerable amount of danger."

"Why is it so important?" Hudson asked in-between directing artillery fire from the Legionnaires side.

"Think about it: Think about all the damage Xiphos has managed to do without truly utilizing The Dark Side in herself: She helped drag out a war that would have ended months earlier, killed hundreds of Jedi via her blade and an army composed entirely of her sons and daughters, all because she wants them to fight the Bryn'adul and the Maw instead of The Sith Empires. I have it on good authority she has been a subject of discussion within the highest diplomatic circles." The Arena answered.

"Heh. Ain't that the truth." Martin chuckled.

"Really, it's in her own best interest she fully converts...and yours..." The Arena claimed. "She would become ten times the threat. Ten times the headache she is now. In her, I see the potential for the very greatest of Sith Warriors. Amy suspects when Xiphos truly does convert it will be rather like the conversion of Exar Kun: Kun truly gave in only when he was left with no other choice except death and failure. Xiphos is not prepared to accept failure. Xiphos doubles down, like so many gamblers."

"Holy chit, Martin, look! Looklooklook!" Isacc exclaimed, spotting Starlin Rand walking away from half a kilometer.

"Mother*fether*..." Martin whispered, staring at Starlin through the scope. His internal protocols flashed DO NOT KILL across his mind.

"He's right there and I can't fething shoot him..." Martin complained.

"Don't fret. Amy's torturing that one in a special way..." The Arena said with a smirk.

"How, Sherbet?" Isacc asked.

"The best way to torture someone...making them hold a juicy secret within themselves!"

"What's the secret?" Isacc asked.

"Ohhh, I would tell you, Dreamboat...I would!" The Arena replied placatingly, staring without blinking at her Droid Boyfriend's nightmarish skeletal face.

"But it would mean torturing you and your brothers, and I am loathe to do such a thing..."

"Must be juicy, like tabloid juicy!" Hudson surmised.

"Oh, it's a doozy, Hudson!" The Arena assured. "And trust me, when it's sprung, you'll be glad I didn't tell any of you beforehand..."

"Alright, you little one-eyed feth, you get to stroll this time..." Martin grumbled as Starlin walked out of firing range. "Dammit!"

They continued watching their brothers battle across a ruined, dead city.

Martin spotted a bunch of Crusaders about to crucify a civilian.

"There's one thing I'm certain of..." Martin said as he fired with Isacc's help, killing the Civilians would be attackers, allowing the panicked woman they had been about to kill escape.

"If the Jedi Order does win, it'll only be because they sold their souls to do it..." he finished grimly.

"I concur. Any peace they think they will achieve, even if Peace wasn't a lie, it would be tainted all the same..." The Arena agreed "That's why we don't seek peace, we Sith...

The sounds of Martin's brothers serenading their enemies even as they butchered them carried over dead winds...

 

[Mrurh'en'lase | Hel]

Equipment: Hel's Lightclub | Robes
Objective: Engage the Sith | Judgment Time
Targets: Ulrich
Enemies: TSE | TSE Allies
Allies: Ashlan Crusade | Ashlan Crusade Allies

​

As the first strike had done so before, the descending crescendo of violence carved its name into the history of this beast. While the intended target was missed due to a last-minute dodge by the surprisingly agile beast, the green blade of the lightsaber passed through metal, scales, skin, flesh, and muscle before being stopped by the thick bones of this creature.

The hybrid grinned widely at the sight, her teeth bared and coated in the blood that ran freely from her shattered nose. Her eyes were wild with the emotions of the battle surging through her systems like intoxicants. And within the redness of her pupils, iris, and sclera, the history of death appeared to coalesce into one - the history and love of it. It was only a minor acknowledgment in her mind that the barriers she had put around her Zeltronish abilities had fallen, quick and harsh.

As a consequence - or a blessing, if she looked at it a certain way - the savage, brutalist and Sithly sensations of her quarry ravaged her spirits. At the same time, the pheromones that her hedonistic kin were known for burst forth into the air. But, unlike those of her kin, they were not designed to induce love or attraction. Instead, they were to increase the joy one felt in the heat of battle and the rage that came with it. And it certainly seemed to be working, as the great titan of darkness roared in certain pain and apparent wrath, the emerald blade lodged deep into its shoulder.

The hybrid began to move, pulling and tugging on the blade with her one good arm to wrench it free from its fleshy prison, shouting something incomprehensible in her agony and dive into the feelings of war. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, the blade seemed cemented within the thick muscles of this beast that roared in its own suffering.

"Come on, you damn-" she started to curse, her voice now understandable and clear - if full of auditorial vile and venom.

Suddenly, after yet another tug on the blade, her efforts were...aided and the hybrid felt herself feeling pulled away and the blade coming with her, and the fiery passions she felt just moments prior vanished in an instant - even the sheer suffering of her arm subdued into a nagging annoyance. This seemed to leave her in a temporary state of shock, as she believed - at first - it to be an ally that pulled her away from her foe and the entrapment she faced. It was only when she heard the snarl of anger from the beast did she snap back to a state of reality and understanding, yelling out a surprised noise once before traveling with the motions of the dragon's swing of her body upon the streets.

The first impact upon the concrete made her drop the lightsaber - which itself cracked and deactivated from the force thrust upon it by the beast's attack. From it, her body went numb as her bones shook and her muscles clenched in preparation for the next swing, which came immediately after the first. This is when the full pain of what she was succumbing to forced itself upon her nerves. It was sharp initially and then brick-like in the way it cut off the flow of her veins, the inhalation of air, the clarity of sight and sound, and the motion of her ligaments. The arm that had been turned into some horrific remnant of fire and magma seized in place as chunks and shards of street and old vehicles wedged into the fissures and cracks of the bicep.

While not entirely unconscious - certainly due to the unnatural physical resistances she enjoyed from her heritage - she was no longer completely within the realm of active awareness of her surroundings. All things became a buzzing blur of bland colors and sounds adorned with trickles of blood from her lips and gums, streams from her nose, and rivulets from the wounds she unknowingly suffered from the undead legion that itself endured slaughter at her hands.

And then, everything would go black as it had when the shuttle crashed.

Air whipped around her like spears as she was thrown through the air like a dart, or perhaps a child's doll, only to crash back-first into a half-broken wall of a forgotten ruin. A single gasping choke escaped her throat, and then a cough that brought up phlegm and blood before the hybrid finally fell into unconsciousness, left to the mercy of her foe who had so quickly attained dominance over her.