Campaign Lightsworn Incursion | A Core War Story |

[Magdalena Bloodscrawl]

Months back....

The Sorceress of Ossus walked the world of Kytrand with Nathan, Flesh shuddering as it metabolized the Light Side energies inherent in it's atmosphere.

"Such an amazing place, Nathan. You've come a long way from the ruins of your Family's Castle." the blond witch spoke, wearing an Outfit that marked her as a cut above commoners as he piloted, through ancient forest pathways to a manor carved into the base of a mountain side, lined with powerful shield generators.

Nathan Bloodscrawl, Rogue Jedi Commander, glanced her way.

"And it's all in danger. That's why we need your help, we are constructing something so complicated even Syd can't get us through the more complicated parts...we need a cloaking device for this planet..."

"To hide a planet, a whole planet...is a tall order even for me." The Sorceress replied. "And you are already asking me to minister to the population on the issue of the Light Side."

"You always did enjoy a challenge."

The Sorceress shrugged. "True".

They finally pulled up to the front entrance.

The Sorceress smiled as she spotted Nathan's family waiting out front. Vera Mina , Sera Mina , and his artificial "Sisters", Melissa Bloodscrawl , Meleena Bloodscrawl , and Melinda Bloodscrawl , all dressed in matching dark blue gowns. Sera was dressed in a gold colored one.

"I am surprised you found the will to marry again..." The Sorceress admitted, as she walked up to them.

"Greetings, all of you...it's wonderful to meet you. I'm... Nathan's adoptive Mother, for lack of a better word..."

"And the mystery deepens..." Sera, Nathan's adopted daughter remarked wryly at Nathan, who rolled his eyes.

The Sorceress tilted her head.

"All androids?"

"Having a regular family just isn't much of an option anymore." Nathan replied. "I've got too many problems that would turn a regular family into sliced ham."

"And that's why we prefer to do the slicing first..." Vera said, currently in her blonde piloting form, dressed in a deep red leather dress and matching heels.

"My wife..." Nathan introduced, gesturing.

"A delight." The Sorceress replied, bowing her head. "I'm The Sorceress of Ossus. Me and Nathan go way back. I got him out of a...spot of bother once. We parted poorly at a certain point but I like to think much of that is water under the bridge."

At this, most members of this gathering of humanoid abominations simply shrugged. The population and the Clones needed something their digital brilliance simply had no experience at providing.

"Let's talk inside..." Nathan said.

The interior of the Hideout was carved from the same rock as the rest of the mountain, down to the very furniture. Nathan's dislike of ornamentation and anything that looked 'fancy' in his strongholds was loud and clear. It was a warrior household, ran by a former Knight of Ession...and a staunch holder of grudges when it came to the faith of the Essonians.

It said much that the Sorceress of Ossus, who had once mutated Nathan to heal his injuries and save his life, suppressing most of his capacity for emotion and heavily influencing him neurologically to be fanatical in his pursuit of Darksiders (and to be susceptible to her commands), had been forgiven for all that, partly because his secret servitude to her had been a complicated one (She did save his life) and partly because when you're running a massive and illegal Clone Army in secret, committing what is essentially treason, are assisted by an army of supermodel vampire androids and actual vampires, running the makings of a massive illegal intelligence network, have become kind of a manipulative bastard yourself (albeit in the name of saving this corrupt Alliance), there really is no more room to point fingers, never mind hold grudges over now relatively minor slights in the grand scope of things.

The Sorceress was seated at the other end of a long table of gray stone in a grand hall lit by torches, observing the project laid out in holographic format.

"Getting a power source like what we need is proving hopeless through our own channels..." Nathan said, his artificial green eyes locked on the floating technical schematics.

"Much of the construction looks like it will need to be done in house, then." The Sorceress remarked. "I can help with the power source, certainly, but the actual construction for the rest...how far along are you?"

"The basic stygium projectors are all finished, polished, and ready to install, and our vessels are working round the clock to finish the rest..." Vera said. "But the power source remains the main problem. We have powerplant tech, but we don't trust it for something like this."

"I can help with it certainly, but even I couldn't assure you it would be ready in time..." The Sorceress spoke. "When do you need it finished?"

"If you and Syd can finish it in two and a half months, that would be impressive." Nathan spoke.

"I do love a challenge." The Sorceress replied with enthusiasm. "Consider it done, Nathan..."

That was all Nathan needed to hear. He immediately shut off the Holographic projection. The Sorceress observed his demeanor. Not as bottled up as he usually was. Marriage, this era, had changed him.

In awakening the Clones, Nathan's political and military might had spiked through the roof. He was clearly wrestling with the idea. Knew it would be necessary for someone like her to stop him if the power went to his head. That's why he wanted to make sure the Light Side was engrained into the Clones, the Population.

Just not the Essonian variety.

"Now...to our other bit of business...will you accept the position of High Abbess of Kytrand?"

"And by extension, taking the legal status as 'Mother' of the Bloodscrawl Patriarch..."

She leaned back in her stone seat.

"This is a very large thing you are asking of me. By your own admission, being the secret head of this Clone Army, acting as an illegal Jedi Commander, makes you guilty of treason. Treason carries the Death Penalty."

"I've been dead before..." Nathan grimaced. "Besides...the rest of you are smart enough to go back into the shadows, where even the Sith couldn't find you if you didn't want them to. If it's all going to go belly up, then it's on me...it'll be me they want, and me they'll be happiest to get their hands on. If they nab the rest of you, that'll just be a bonus. But until that day comes, I'm going to do everything I can to use the Clones, and the...Supermodel Vampire Androids..." he added in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose at how completely psychotic the last part of that sentence sounded when combined with everything that went before it.

"...to save as many lives, and crush as many of these evil Sith Motherfethers as possible."

"A noble goal. Even if it ends in your public execution. You really are a son to me." she praised.

"You in?"

"But of course..." she smiled. "I take the public name of Magdalena Vittoria Britannia Bloodscrawl. I can begin my duties immediately, should you so wish."

"Of course...Mother...you may act at your discretion." Nathan replied stoically. "Welcome to the Family."

(Cutaway to that chainsaw fight in Resident Evil 7)


Present...

In-between getting used to the population of Kytrand, helping her own followers get settled there, and preparing to start religious indoctrination, Magdalena was happy to do side jobs.

For example, though Nathan was opposed to the Lightsworn, he found it useful to find some way of keeping an eye on them.

To that end, Magdalena had offered to join the Lightsworn in order to keep a few feelers within in case he could make use of their aggression for his own purposes later. As no one had heard of Magdalena Bloodscrawl, she was basically able to approach them, and offer her services as a follower of the Light Side to their cause. But she had chosen a different insertion method from the others.

A Reflec coated drop pod was launched from a line stealth equipped TIE Whisper purchased on the black market, and it fell to the planet, close to the vector the other Jedi had landed on, landing into an outpost of Droidekas, who immediately gathered around it, priming their blaster cannons...

The hatch burst out , smacking into the Droideka in front of it, followed by glowing green projectiles of blood, erupting from the body of the Drop Pod's occupant, who somersaulted out of it rather elegantly, brandishing an Exar Kun style Double Bladed Lightsaber that flashed green blades as she changed, her blood seeping into the Droids she had hit,causing green electricity to arc over their frames as their programming was switched, and they began firing on all the Droids she had not hit, while she herself resorted to deflecting shots as she patiently, carefully advanced, wearing her dark blue Ritual Gown with an exposed arm, which allowed her to release blood objects through her skin as she advanced with her blood projectiles hitting more and more droids, reprogramming them as well.

In the Niman Style she fought, her take on it more acrobatic than normal. She seemed unnaturally fast, gliding into her opponents more than running or leaping, blades moving in tight spins around her body as she did.

Nathan also didn't like the Trade Federation, and felt like causing chaos for them.

When the street she was fighting on had a relatively stable defense. Magdalena willed a cut to appear on the flesh of her palm and she drew a large ring of glowing green blood on the wall of a bank, the side of an apartment building, and the street itself.

The ring created a pool of light within, linking to matching circles on three ships just outside the system, close to an Asteroid Field.

Dozens upon dozens upon dozens of EFR-SF Heavy Battle Droids flew out of the formed portal in the street, their mission specifically to aid the Jedi battling their way against the endless. FRom the portal of the wall came one dozen EFR Super Heavy Battle Droids clinking out, and from the last came over one hundred EFR Heavy Battle Droids. All of them basically suicide troops, never intended to be recovered, all to be sent to harass defending forces, in addition to whatever Droids she had reprogrammed with her own blood. All of them began to engage Droids and any Trade Federation forces that directly fired on them. The portals cut off, the rings energy expended on both sides

Very quiet bolts rained down from the sky at extreme rates at enemy Droid Forces, joined by half the heavies opening fire on enemy air support, and the rest on ground support, with the rest of the ground Droids trying to draw as much aggression on them as possible while the Sorceress flew into the air with the aid of the Force, spotting the Lightsworn fighting for their lives.

She flew to them at high speed, dive bombing an impact point slightly ahead of the main group, glowing green blood leaking out of her eyes and mouth, turning into sharpened spear points that exploded into droids on contact.

A composite beam impacted close to her and she was flung into a wall, exploding into a shower of green blood as her body liquefied on impact...yet the blood kept moving, flowing out of the gown, bladed tendrils forming from the blood mass and cutting Droids in half nearby, grabbing it's fallen lightsaber as it fought it's way back into the gown, reforming into Magdalena, who immediately dashed towards one of the Giant Droids with Force Flight, darting through it's attempts to grab her, firing off a blood spike from her palm into its cranial chassis, which magically pierced it, and flowed inside, causing green electricity to arc across it's body like other reprogrammed Droids, and it began firing all it's onboard weaponry at the other Droids it's size as well as smaller ones.

Magdalena dived back down into the thickest fray of Droids, blades spinning about in a deadly pattern...

Valery Noble

Vonddado Tuuk

Kyric

Kornon

Tyrus Vastor

Credit Wizard

Aerarii Tithe

Alaric

Shute Gunray

Darth Defias

Aelina Corsanis

 

[Vonddado Tuuk]

Valery Noble Aerarii Tithe

The Skakoan barely shifted away from the tactical monitors within the Council Room as the D1 Series Aerial Battle Droids squadron engaged the renegade x-wing belonging to the Galactic Alliance in a desperate attempt to kill the occupant before they could relay the Trade Federation's involvement with the Dark Empire. ​

​

His focus remained unwavering, watching as two squadrons were shredded by heavy laser fire and blown to smitherins by target-seeking cluster missiles. ​

​

It appeared that the Trade Federation's emphasis on quantity rather than quality was proving effective, as the smoke enveloped Valery Noble and initiated a swift descent towards the city's surface as the droid's cannon fire struck engines and support systems. ​

​

Bymb shifted his gaze to Aerarii Tithe , the Imperial Treasurer of the Empire and Deputy Viceroy of the Trade Federation, who had just entered the war room located deep below the city's surface.​

​

"Viceroy Tithe - The perspectives you can offer as a previous Sith-Imperial Moff will greatly benefit our efforts in defending the planet. However, there appears to be a hidden aspect to this assault, as the likelihood of the Galactic Alliance arriving here independently is extremely unlikely after the invasion of Coruscant." Hemborr elaborated - There was an understanding that the Galactic Alliance would be unable to deploy any enemy operatives into their territory due to the extensive reconstruction efforts on Coruscant underway. So the logical conclusion was that one of their rivals within the Empire leaked information about the reactor. ​

​

"Marlon Sularen, the Warlord of the Empire, emerges as the primary suspect behind the deliberate attempt to undermine our strength given their known hostility to megacorporations. We must professionally guide the hand of inquiry away from the Trade Federation and onto SularenCo, who stands as a compeititor within the Empire's Market." He further commented - that the Galactic Alliance's focus would likely be on dismantling Sularen's corporation rather than interfering with the Trade Federation at a crucial point in the Galactic Economy. ​

​

 

[Darth Defias]

The Acolyte
A Core Wars Story
​

It didn't need much of a retaliation to veer off-course the jerry-rigged aerial droid. Defias felt the invisible shove at this back, its force strong enough to push man-and-droid into a plummeting descent. The repulsors - barely holding off Defias' burly weight already - fizzled out in smoke and sparks began to dance on the durasteel wings.

The acolyte had hoped for more than a single strafing run against the Jedi, but he had to drastically lower his expectations to the point of hoping he survives the inevitable crash. Fear seized his body and mind, killing him before he'd even reached the ground. Life flashed before his eyes and a recent memory stuck out as the permacrete rushed closer and closer: he stood before Lord Neveon, the Overseer of the Carlac Academy, accepting his new identity -- his new life -- as Defias.

Defias of the Sith.

The emotions of that day crashed into his subconscious like a riptide, drowning the fear and doubt until they relented and morphed into something entirely different.

Through passion, I gain strength.

Raw power engulfed him, the blaze of the dark side searing away the weakness as he drank in the terror. An ethereal sphere materialized around him a moment before he crashed into the ground below with a loud explosion. A cloud of dust and debris surged upwards and outwards from the point of impact, sweeping over the surrounding area. Several moments later, from the smoke sizzling with electric sparks, the large frame of Defias emerged.

Gritting his teeth and holding his side with one hand, but otherwise rather unscathed, he lumbered out of the fog. For a long minute he stared at the battle unfolding before his eyes, still processing his odds defying survival. Then, the sound of metal rolling over permacrete from his left took his attention: a dozen or so droidekas wheeling away from the facility and straight at the Jedi assailants.

A cruel grin pulled his lips apart before his senses fully returned to him and he realized he wasn’t just a spectator but an active participant. The Jedi were still alive and kicking — still a far more challenging foe than the other acolytes at the Academy — and he still had a mission on his hands.

Hoping the droidekas would take away any Jedi’s potential interest in him, Defias trotted towards the facility’s entrance from where the droids had rolled out.

FRIENDS: Aerarii Tithe Credit Wizard Vonddado Tuuk
NOT FRIENDS: Kornon Tyrus Vastor

 

[Alaric]

Kyric | Credit Wizard
​

Linking our droids helped to even the playing field, but we were still up against an entire fleet of enemy droids who were intrinsically linked the same way. But the Force was on our side too.

Yet even linked as we were, I struggled to keep up with Kyric. For every droid we took down he seemed to accelerate faster, and for every inch I went he'd go a mile. I weave how I can, careful not the slam directly into the fighters even though it seemed to be working for the kid.

I can feel his powerful presence in the Force enveloping his entire starfighter. How clever and senseful, to know a ship like an extension of the self. I could not imagine doing the same as I grip tight around the controls, palms slipping, sweat beading around my headset. I am not foreign to starships, but certainly so to a dogfights like this. The cold enemy knows no warmth in the Force, and I can not know them but with the mortal senses as a result. And they zip lightning fast by my ears and eyes.

I control my breathing, bringing my center to balance, bringing to Force inwards to me rather than projecting it like Kyric. A calm mind weathers all, or so we Jedi tell ourselves.

As I race to catch up to the kid in his daredevil dive towards the Trade Federation carrier ship, a swarm of tri-fighters parts around me like they expect me to barrel straight into them, a valid concern giving me wingman's strategy. Yet as I thread through the luminescent trails of their afterburners, a great cloud of smaller droids releases from their underbellies.

All along the length of the X-wing are buzz droids. Their saws and torches immediately begins to ravage the ship, paying special attention to the S-foils. I roll clockwise, then roll again, shaking off a few of the less anchored droids, and with a loud warning signal from my HUD I find myself continuing to roll.

Looking down at my display, I'm faced with the bold red block of the urgent typeface on the blue screen:

::GYROSCOPE DAMAGED::

"R9! Unlock S-foils from attack position and try to override the gyroscope with your own!"

Without hesitation the droid lowers the wings of the ship as I try to steady our mad descent towards the Lucrehulk. The crunching of buzz-droids between the wings send sparks flying.

"R9, the gyroscope!"

The droid doesn't reply. I look back over my shoulder to see the droid's head peeking over the cockpit, with the incising tool of buzz droid plunged into it.

My X-wing spins uncontrollably without the grace the young Karis had exhibited, nor the bravado. In desperation I reach out through the Force like he had done, trying to sense the extent of my ship, but in the frantic whirlpool that has becoming my field of view I am totally disoriented. If I can't shield the already doomed ship, I can at least shield myself.

As the starfighter dives into the Lucrehulk's hangar I draw the power of Ashla to me like my father had taught me. We enter upside down, and when the port wings slam against the hangar deck they are shredded off, the violent force of the impact and the momentum of the spin flipping my fighter back upright, and maintaining a fierce speed and something between a slide and a glide as it bounces and skids across the hangar.

I eject the pilot's seat, and let the momentum carry me up, then letting the Force carry me down. I hit the deck and fall to the floor, watching as the X-wing bowls into a group of standing vulture droids and sending them into a ball of flame, an explosive shockwave that rocks the hangar. I roll to my other side, covering my face with my arms against any flying debris.

 

[Sol Dara]

Bernard | Shute Gunray

​

A silent sigh escaped the padawan as she watched Bernard grow increasingly impatient. His frustration radiated through the air. Sol didn't think she'd be fairing any better if she was in his position. He yearned for the battlefield but was only allowed to tag along with her for negotiations. Negotiations that were being put off minute by minute by the absence of the other party. While they stood idle, their comrades were fighting.

Sol didn't know if the neimoidian had a track record for being late. Most of what she knew about Shute Gunray was that he had gluttonous tendencies and was disbarred from the senate before she was even born. And that was that. Any other info was so old it didn't really matter.

"When is this piece of garbage getting here. I'm getting tired of waiting,"

The mirialan quietly made her way to the viewport, stopping about three feet away from Bernard. Her hands clasped behind her back as she glanced at Bernard's reflection. "I would wonder if this were a trick to stall us and sway the battle if there were more than two of us." Bernard was a force to be reckoned with, probably even now in his weakened state. But Sol didn't think it was a secret that the Jedi sustained injuries on Coruscant. Sol herself wasn't exactly known for her combat prowess. There were better people to trick into standing in a room for hours.

Sol turned her head to face Bernard. "I believe they have more reason than not to speak with us. Perhaps it's taking him a while to get here because of his... notorious eating habits?" It was the kindest way she could say the ex-senator would be slow from his size.

Whatever had stalled him aside, Sol hoped he would arrive soon. She knew she was doing her part by being here instead of out there, but she was also tired of feeling like her time was being wasted.

 

[Kyric]

Alaric | Credit Wizard

​

In comparison to Alaric, Kyric's crash appeared far more eclectic and controlled. He retracted the fighter's wings and hit the hangar floor at an angle that saw the ship skipping across the durasteel in a rapid rotation. Dozens of B1 battle droids, and even a few B2, were shattered on impact. When the ship finally slowed, the kiffar climbed out and drew his single-edged blade from its sheath at his side. The trigger mechanic wouldn't make for much use in his current predicament.

The explosion behind Kyric stole the boy's attention from the approaching droids. He searched desperately until he spotted Alaric a ways away from the scorch marks. Pivoting toward his only ally in this mess, Kyric dashed toward the prone Jedi. His blade flashed out toward an incoming bolt and split the energy in twain. The two halves flew past him and crashed into two other droids, dropping them in a heap of smoking metal.

Kyric slid to a stop beside Alaric and yanked him up to his feet rather abruptly. "Sorry, sir, but we're in the hot zone. We need to make for the command deck." The Jedi struck twice more, slicing two more bolts, much to the chagrin of the newest victims. He lifted his commlink to his lips and pressed his back to Alaric's. <"BD, find a terminal and download the station's map data. We don't have time to check every hall.">

BD-8 dropped from the abandoned starfighter and pitter-pattered across the hangar. The little droid dodged stray bolts with practiced precision, only slowing once he arrived at a terminal tucked behind dormant Vulture Droids. Big Chieftain began the arduous process of slicing past the system's defenses.

Meanwhile, Kyric began the march across the hangar toward the blastdoor closest to his buddy-droid. With the two Jedi now moving in tandem, the younger of the pair found his weakened right side covered as Alaric stepped up. The blaster fire grew thicker in answer. B1 and B2 Battle Droids came from all directions in a concentrated effort to destroy the Jedi.

"I can maybe give you thirty seconds to make somethin' crazy happen, Al. I'm nothin' more than a sword here." Kyric drew in a deep breath and centered his mind. Flashes of the future overlaid his fissuring vision. He flicked his saber to the right, deflecting an oncoming shot into a B2's wrist rocket on release. The resulting explosion launched the hulking droid into a small band of its lesser models. All four of the droids sizzled, but the gap was quickly filled.

 

[Alaric]

Kyric | Credit Wizard​

"Thank you, Kyric." I was relieved as the boy pulled me to my feet, still bewildered at the crash.

Alas he was right that we couldn't stay to lick our wounds, not as the blaster bolts were flying. As I ran with him I lit my saber. Blocking blaster bolts had never been difficult, but for me it was always some angry outer rim ruffian, not an army, not an onslaught.

The circle of droids closed in completely. One of them, painted yellow to differentiate it somehow, called out.

"You're surrounded, Jedi!"

So it seemed. My heart raced faster. My mind sought for the only thing I knew.

"Let us negotiate with the master of this ship!"

The wave of blaster fire stopped, settling the hangar into an eerie quiet.

"Negotiate. Does not compute. Incompatible with Imperial policy: no Jedi, no exceptions." The droid explained. We stood for a moment with held breathes.

"What are you waiting for? Shoot them!"

The assault against us continued. I centered myself, allowing the Force to guide my blade to where it needed to be, but even that would fail in time given the strength of their attack.

What would father have done? Facing down the Mawite hordes or the Death's Hand? My father had no qualms against killing, not when it saved the lives of his own people.

"Close your eyes, Kyric. Trust in the Force for but a moment."

In desperation all I could do was call on the power of the Ashla. I kept my mind on what mattered. My parents, my sister, the young Fallon, and Kyric, the kid with his back against mine, and both of our backs proverbially against the wall.

I stretched out my palm to the droids, a burst of Force Light beamed from me. In an instant the droids before me had their photoreceptors fried. The ends of their blasters continued to blaze the red bolts of energy, but their aim began to go wide, striking other battle droids. The line behind them, just as dazed and confused by the blindness, receiving Force-knows what kind of information from the rest of the battalion, began to fire off shots into the crowd.

"What are you doing!" the droid commander screamed, "fire on the enemy!"

A chorus of Roger, Roger rung out from the droids, who continued to fire on their enemies, that being the apparent traitors who had begun to fire on them. The tight formation around us began to crack and break as two thirds of the circle began to fight the other third. For good measure, I reached out through the Force and crumpled the long metal skull of the commander droid, its body collapsing to the floor. We would need to make our run for it before the central control room, if there was one, noticed the malfunction of its soldiers.

"Come on, lets run!"

The blaster fire thickened, but it was no longer directed towards us. I put my lightsaber back on my belt, then as we ran towards the Big Chieftain I used the force to sweep aside a line of battle droids that had turned their attention back to us in too short a time to register what was about to happen to them.

As we slipped under the line of dormant vulture droids along the side of the hangar and into the doorway near the BD unit, I turned back.

"Here, help me push!"

I reached out through the Force, straining to push the vulture droids away from us. With a big telekinetic shove the starfighters tumbled forwards and crush a swath of battle droids with a grinding metallic crunch that might have sounded awful to my ears were not a sign of progress in our mission.

 

[Tyrus Vastor]

"Patience is a virtue," Kornon said. But as they slowed yet again, his brow furrowed. "As is decisiveness. Allow this one to part them."

He stepped back, his fellows covering him for a moment as he gathered his strength. He took a broken Super Battle Droid and raised it, then spun once, twice, and launched it like a missile down the centre of the droid's lines ahead. The first droid burst like a bubble, shrapnel launched in all directions -- and the next was the same, and the next, and the next. In its wake a telekinetic wave pushed dozens of droids aside, tearing a hole through the centre of the droid army's lines, and a path forward for the Lightsworn.

"Forward! No droid can stop these ones!" His saber raised, he charged forward-

" Plan that out you?" Tyrus's asked in a heavily Korun accent. His lightsaber motioned toward the super battle droids and the new mess that had become them. I nodded with respect at the move and retreated behind the Barabell Jedi Master for some cover.

The relentless onslaught from the battle droids was manageable; their shots were predictable, their movements robotic. Tyrus could almost anticipate their every move.

As the super battle droids continued on in the fray, the intensity of the battle escalated slightly. Their more advanced targeting systems and higher rate of fire demanded greater precision and focus. Tyrus adjusted his stance, his feet planted firmly, his lightsaber a shimmering shield against the barrage. Every deflection resonated through his lightsaber and into his body.

Then came the droidekas, their shield generators flickering to life, their dual blasters spitting out a hailstorm of red energy bolts and all the while other models charged for melee range attacks?! Tyrus's muscles tensed as he anticipated the challenge. The droidekas' rate of fire was relentless, a torrent of energy that tested the limits of his endurance. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his grip on the lightsaber tightening. He drew deeper into his mental reserves, pushing past the physical strain, seeking the calm center of his training. Each deflected bolt now sent a reverberation through his lightsaber, the force of the impacts causing his arms to ache, his body to tremble slightly under the strain.

" Kronon! Focus the destroyers, you!" Tyrus did not even bother attempting to speak basic as the fray raged on. The Korun was asking for cover and hoped he would not get shot in the process of reloading his Ripper. With a new clip inserted, He loosed a scattering blast from its barrel at the approaching Droideka grapplers. The energized slugs ignoring the shielding and ravaging the delicate inner workings of the adjacent machines.

Tags: Kornon Credit Wizard Darth Defias

 

[General H. Loathsom]

Now this was beginning to be fun.

The chaos of warfare engulfed the outskirts of the Trade Federation base on Cademimu V. Their enemies had come to stop the construction of the Trade Federation's latest contribution to the Dark Empire's war efforts. Loathsom had been assigned to be on standby, but as he stepped out of the portal, created by the latent Dathomiri powers of Shute Gunray whose instinctive recognition of the threats assailing the Trade Federation's industrial site had been impeccable as always, he couldn't help but feel the familiar rush of anticipation for the warfare ahead of him.

Who would be his victim this day? Was it a clandestine Alliance operation? Maybe they'd sent their most elite troops, those pesky Alliance Commandos or maybe their Rangers? Or was it particularly brazen pirates or mercenaries? Maybe even ... could he be so lucky?

He observed the telltael glow of a lightsaber cutting through the air at incredibly speeds, then a grand portal, only possible to be created through the Force, opening and spewing forth a great number of ... droids.

His smile faded instantly.

"DROIDS?" He shouted over the battlefield. "BRING ME SOMETHING THAT BLEEDS!"

He dropped from his perch atop a half-ruined building, cracking the permacrete beneath his titanic feet, and sped toward the mess of droids. The twin vibro-machetes began to dig into their metal flesh as he spun between them, dodging some blasts, and letting others stain his armor black as they harmlessly impacted the composite material.

<General, the enemy has taken control of one of our war machines! It's attacking our own droids!> The communique came from the monotone voice of a tactical droid observing the battle from a safe distance.

"WHAT?" Loathsom spun around, dragging the vibromachete through a droid to bisect it, as he searched for the offending traitor.

One of the massive war machines, a scion of the terrible and calamitous spirit the Trade Federation embodied a mere few decades ago, had turned its guns on its brethren, green electricity sparkling between its gears and plates. This manner of misappropriation of funds could not be tolerated.

Loathsom crushed another droid beneath his machetes, using its falling body to catapult himself into the air. Despite his immense size and catastrophic weight, he'd received only the finest cybernetic augmentations, providing him with the quads of a mechanical deity. He soared through the air, catching himself on the back of the offending droid's torso by impaling a machete into its metal frame.

"MACHINE! YOU WERE MEANT TO BRING BALANCE TO THE MARKET, NOT DESTROY IT!"

The General began to hack away at its armor, holding onto the massive machine with the magnetic soles of his great, iron boots. Sparks went flying as more and more of the droid's guts were exposed to the air. Above the carnage and desolation of war, Loathsom's deranged laughter could be heard.

Directly engaging: Magdalena Bloodscrawl
The destitute and fashion-lacking fellows on the surface: Kornon Tyrus Vastor
The wealthy, stylish, silver-fox Credit Barons on the surface: Credit Wizard Darth Defias Aerarii Tithe

 

[Shute Gunray]

Big Boi Supreme
Whopper
Bernard | Sol Dara ​

"Lift me!" Shute howled in abject rage. "NOW!"

Following his descent from the palanquin, one of the Magna Guard's knee joints split beneath the neimoidian's great girth and toppled over to the side. This sent the Tower of Power crashing to the cold, durasteel floor in a jumbled heap of chicken, sauce, and biscuits. He rolled around awkwardly for a moment until two of the Magna Guard managed to turn him over onto his back and pull him up into a seated position. From there, the other two were able to hook their clasps under Shute's thick arms and lift him up to his feet.

Thankfully, the whole ordeal took place down the hall from the chambers selected for the negotiations, so Shute was able to hobble his way down the remainder of the way with little trouble. The Magna Guard trailed after him. They bumped awkwardly against one another and the walls in a vein attempt to squeeze down the hall shoulder-to-shoulder.

Durasteel slid to the side to reveal the pair of Jedi across the room from him. "No, no, no..." he muttered under his breath, too low to be heard by the average near-human sentient. "Two? There are two of them? Impossible... surely they could not know of my fea-" Shute cleared his throat. "This does not bode well for the negotiations."

Shute strode purposefully into the room. His arrival was heralded by a string of pops in his knees, but he pretended not to hear them as he placed his sausage fingers on the back of one of the chairs. He gulped for air and forced a smile.

"Good evening, Jedi. My aide tells me you've come to negotiate your.... surrender?" Shute motioned behind him for someone to approach. A scantily clad twi'lek stepped in pushing a veritable smorgasbord of Hutta Burger fast food options ranging from the namesake, of course, Hutta Burger, to Thyrsian Fried Chicken, and Gunray Wok.

"Please, help yourselves. We've cooked only the best for such honored guests." The Master of Ren wiped away a thick layer of cloudy sweat from his forehead. The Magna Guard fanned out, two to his left and right sides, holding their batons. They were not active.

Yet.

 

[Kornon]

Tyrus Vastor | Darth Defias | Credit Wizard
​

As the droid-operator flamed out, Kornon caught a glimpse of the man as he crashed to earth. Rough, built, Dark -- it was only a glimpse, but a strange feeling overtook Kornon. There was not a doubt in his mind that he could destroy that darkness now. But it had to be now. Of the many forms of evil he had seen across the galaxy, none had gripped him like that; he was taken by the feeling that he had to destroy that man now, before he could develop any further.

It was a fleeting thing. In the heat of battle he could not afford to be ensnared by such futures. When Vastor called on him, he answered with haste, "But of course!"

Rapid swings of his saber batted away a dozen bolts, shredded the grapple-droids that reached them. Then his companion's weapon was loaded again, and they were on the offensive. Kornon's hand rose and three droidekas were crushed into lumpy wrecks with the closing of his fist.

"Forward. Quickly." The urgency that crept into his voice betrayed his concern. He cut through a droideka's claw thrice in an instant, then shattered its shield and bisected it in a single stroke. Two Q-series were slammed together into a mess of metal. He gained momentum, heavy strokes leading them into the facility's entrance. Yet more droids blocked their path.

 

[Credit Wizard]

STAR WARS: LIGHTSWORN INCURSION | A CORE WAR STORY |

Alaric Kyric ​

The engagement in space was starting to take its toll on the Trade Federation, as numerous Phloc-Arophocc Droid Tri-Fighters, Vulture Droids and upgraded Phlac-Arphocc Vulture Droid Starfighters were dismantled by the small and angle fightercraft of Alaric and Kyric , Despite facing intense resistance and encountering a few more scratches and engine malfunctions along the way, the pair managed to successfully make contact within the hangar.

The relentless attacks from the enemy forces only served to strengthen their determination, pushing them to fight even harder and strategize their moves carefully in order to outmaneuver the Trade Federation's defenses. Every move they made was calculated and precise, showcasing their skill and expertise in combat as their mastery of the force was utilized to full effect on the mostly fodder infantry that made up the bulk of the Federation's projecting power.

"They have made landfall within the hanger bays, redirect all security forces to Hanger Bay 292. I want droidekas up there at once!' The authoritative voice of the Tactical Droid, resonated across the bridge of the Trade Federation Flagship, indicating that their probable target would be the Command Center, the central hub of the blockade and its source of power. The gentle sounds of clinking and clanking resonated through the monitors, signaling the transmission of commands from the droid crew to the droideka storage bays via the data-chain.

The rolling sound of Grapple Droidekas and Q-Series Droidekas was not far off into the distance.

The ongoing conflict on Cademimu V persisted, with intense skirmishes erupting throughout the urban sectors. However, the Lightsworn forces found themselves impeded by the formidable infantry of the Trade Federation Droid Army in their rather fervent attempts to prevent the Jedi from accessing the Central Reactor Laboratory, which was concealed far below a multitude of towering skyscrapers and industrial structures of the planet.

The Federation received a significant boost with the arrival of Darth Defias , causing a temporary halt in the progress of the Barbal Kornon and Vapaad Master Tyrus Vastor as they engaged in intense combat with the renegade dark sider in the city-street. Despite the considerable capability of the two jedi in dealing with the onslaught of droids, the presence of an additional force user among their ranks provided some assistance.

Valery Noble crash landing had revealed an ancient service tunnel beneath the reactor complex utilized by the New Imperial Order. As she naturally ventured further into the depths to reach the insidious power generator, she came face to face with a group of expertly trained Trade Federation Assassin Droid guarding the area.

 

[Kyric]

Alaric | Credit Wizard

​

Kyric closed his eye without hesitation. He lifted his blade and fell into his instinct, guided by the psychic winds that drove him from planet to planet, and battle to battle. Blaster fire flashed by him from all directions. He dropped into a sprint, narrowly avoiding one, before his sword swept upward to deflect another aside. Droids thudded to the ground around them as they raced past the dormant vulture droids.

At Alaric's behest, Kyric pivoted and slid to a halt. He opened his eye and thrust his left arm forward. A concentrated manifestation of his will slammed into the droid-fighters in tandem with Alaric's and Kyric watched as more of the droids were squashed beneath the vulture's bulk.

Beside them, BD-8 chirped an excited affirmation and the blast door opened.

"Great job, Chief!" Kyric scooped the droid up from the terminal before he sprinted into the hall. "Didja get any map data?"

The Big Chieftain answered with another sharp confirmation.

"Nice. Nice. Nice." Kyric turned back to Alaric and gave him a thumbs up just as he caught the sound of rolling metal around the corner of the intersection. Precognition went so far as to warn the kiffar to brace himself, so he lifted his saber and slid awkwardly into the hall.

Two shielded destroyer-droids opened fire immediately.

Kyric carried his saber across his body and deflected the first two shots comfortably, but the incoming storm pinned him in place as it took everything to avoid immediate death. The grapplers did not slow. In fact, they appeared to roll faster in preparation to charge and entrap the young Jedi.

"BD! Get to cover!"

The little droid used his thrusters to shoot across the intersection–safely out of range of a fiery demise.

 

[Alaric]

Kyric | Credit Wizard​

The ominous sound of a wooshing roll foretold that we weren't out of the woods just yet. The droid army of the Trade Federation did not amount to measly battle droids.

As the Droidekas rolled into position blocking the hall forward, they locked their legs firmly to the floor and raised their spherical shields. Their arms began to pump back and forth with alternating rounds of blasters, forming a steady barrage that pushed me back around the corner.

From between a heavy roll sounded, but it did not stop. The grapplers rolled right up to us, free to advance under the cover of their brethren. I swung my saber up into the heavy clawed right hand of the droid, cleaving it off, only for the other claw to grasp my offhand. Its cold metal dug into my forearm, drawing blood, then the crushing pain of bone crunching and shattering.

I roared in pain. swinging my saber up again to sever the other claw. I stumbled back from the droid, the claw still locked to my arm. I tumbled backwards into the wall and slouched. The droid, seeming to have no option but to switch to defense, sturdied itself and raised its shield, simply standing there.

Breathing the best I could through the pain, I brought my saber gently to the claw, surgically trying to cut it loose from my broken arm. The plasma of the saber cut smoothly into the base of the claw where I had severed it before, unlocking it from around my arm and dropping it to the floor. I sheathed my saber and gasped in pain as my hand fell limply, my forearm unable to move. It was a mess of blood and twisted muscle. Given time, time we didn't have, I could heal it, preferably with bacta but the Force would do as well. I prayed for Kyric's ability as a swordsman to pull us through...

 

[Bernard]

Bernard opened his mouth to answer, but he was spared the effort as the chamber's double doors opened to a sight that left no questions unanswered.

That the Neimoidian could even stand after the string of loud cracks emanating from his knees seemed a miracle. Whatever hairbrained neuron in his brain had given him the idea to walk around on his feet rather than with a gravity generator strapped to his back had to be chalked up to a complete lack of any sense. And that was the man they were going to be negotiating with.

Bernard suppressed a scoff. He moved up to the table, turning two chairs on the long side to the Neimoidian's right, and sat down in one. Purposefully, he ignored the display of a heart-stopping caloric disaster of a feast being laid out for them and shot a warning glance toward Sol, in case she even considered taking some of it.

"You misunderstand, we are here to negotiate yours," he replied in reference to the surrender, as a small grimace of annoyance flashed through his face. His gaze caught Sol, and he felt the slightest tinge of what had to be embarassment. "But that is what Jedi Dara is here to do," he gestured toward the Mirialan Jedi.

"If you would."

Sol Dara Shute Gunray

 

[Darth Defias]

The Acolyte
A Core Wars Story
​

Defias worked relentlessly on slicing the door open to the facility, but the thing just wouldn’t give in. Fury began to rise in the pit of his stomach, mixing in with the fear of any Jedi catching up to him. He snapped the scomp link in rage, blowing flames through his nostrils at the door and its unyielding terminal. He had survived a hundred-meter free fall to death only to be foiled by a door.

Defias stepped back from the door.

Peace is a lie. There is only passion.

Eyes shut, the anger began to build up his core.

Through passion, I gain strength.

The flames within blazed into a wildfire, surging through every fabric of his body and mind.

Through strength, I gain power.

He extended an open palm, then tightly closed it into a fist.

Through power, I gain victory.

The door began to slide open slowly, pulled apart by an invisible force stronger than anything tangible.

Through victory, my chains are broken.

The door slid open with ease.

The Force shall free me–

Only because two droidekas rolled out from the other side.

Defias blinked like a starstruck fool. The destroyer-droids passed him by, whether magically identifying him as friend over foe, or recognizing he was merely a speck in the grand machinations of a megacorporation and its conflict with the Jedi; a nobody.

The huff of an angry grunt was interrupted by the realization the doors were closing once more, and he rushed at the gap still open. He leapt at the final stretch, swooping inside the facility as the gates of the Trade Federation shut behind him.

Defias rose up back on his feet, unsure whether to celebrate his success or condemn it for its revelations, then looked around for any pointers to where the Occupation Council might be. Should this have been a Commerce Guild installation, he would’ve found his way easily–they all were mostly built with the exact same layout; a cost cutting method, alleviating expense on constant designers and architects. Defias doubted the Trade Federation was any different, but he had never stepped foot in any facility of theirs before. Shutting his eyes close, he reached out for the Force to guide him, then warily crept further inside the structure.

FRIENDS: Credit Wizard Vonddado Tuuk Aerarii Tithe
NOT FRIENDS: Kornon Tyrus Vastor

 

[Sol Dara]

Bernard | Shute Gunray

Sol faced the doorway in tandem with Bernard. She watched as Shute Gunray revealed himself. Immediately, it appeared as if the man was talking to... himself. The padawan picked up an acute sense of fear, almost terror, that made her blink away wide eyes. The sounds of the ex-senator's joints straining under his existence were far more audible than his words. As Shute Gunray entered with his Magna Guards, the smell of fast food wafted in with him. As he approached, Sol realized the odd 'dust' that was splashed against the neimodian's clothes was actually food crumbs. She had to stop herself from visibly wincing.

He placed his sausage fingers on the back of one of the chairs. He gulped for air and forced a smile.

"Good evening, Jedi. My aide tells me you've come to negotiate your.... surrender?" Shute motioned behind him for someone to approach. A scantily clad twi'lek stepped in pushing a veritable smorgasbord of Hutta Burger fast food options ranging from the namesake, of course, Hutta Burger, to Thyrsian Fried Chicken, and Gunray Wok.

"Please, help yourselves. We've cooked only the best for such honored guests." The Master of Ren wiped away a thick layer of cloudy sweat from his forehead. The Magna Guard fanned out, two to his left and right sides, holding their batons. They were not active.

The padawan joined Bernard at the table as the neimoidian spoke. She reviewed the fast food in a single glance before her eyes darted to Bernard. She didn't need words to know he didn't plan on eating anything either. Sol shifted her gaze to Shute Gunray, taking note of the Magna Guards positions in her peripheral vision, and the amount of sweat escaping the large man's body. No kind words came to mind. Almost nothing came to mind. The padawan had been at all types of meetings in all types of places with her old and new Master alike. This was already, by far, the oddest one.

"You misunderstand, we are here to negotiate yours," he replied in reference to the surrender, as a small grimace of annoyance flashed through his face. His gaze caught Sol, and he felt the slightest tinge of what had to be embarrassment. "But that is what Jedi Dara is here to do," he gestured toward the Mirialan Jedi.

"If you would."

Sol would... rather not speak to this representative of the Trade Federation. She could barely process that the Trade Federation agreed to send someone to this supposedly important, tense, pivotal negotiation, and they sent a guy who looked like he would slip in a pool of his own sweat and be unable to right himself after. The mirialan wasn't usually one to judge so quickly based on looks, but the presence of this man in particular not only felt off-putting, but almost an act of disrespect. Maybe she was overreacting or overanalyzing, but now that Shute Gunray was here, Sol couldn't help but wonder if this was some sort of trick.

Trick or not, Sol had her own mission to complete.

"Ambassador Gunray," Sol began, speaking with a maturity beyond her years. "We thank you for the humble and -delectable arrangement you have presented us with today." The mirialan paused, stopping herself from looking to Bernard. For what? She doesn't know. She had no idea what he could offer in this situation. "But the Lightsworn do not intend to leave Cademimu V without ensuring the Power Generator can not and will not be used by the Dark Empire. Doing so would be a threat to the entire galaxy and would leave untold havoc in our wake if we were to leave or surrender now."

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Factory Link | Wedding Ring
Ship: Stealth-X
Weapons: Double-Bladed Lightsaber

Fire and smoke threatened to consume her, forcing her to move while intense heat burned against her skin. The impact had not only ruined the X-wing that had been with her since the early days, but she was cut along her arms and legs and she felt an uncomfortable pain in her ribs. Whether they were broken or bruised, she didn't know for certain, but her condition was troublesome for a mission that was far from over.

Without her ship, she wasn't sure how she'd get off-world either.

Despite these problems, there was one little bit of hope to hold onto. The crash-landing had torn open the ground somewhere near the facility and opened up a service tunnel she wasn't aware of. There was no guarantee it'd take her where she needed to be, but somewhere inside the facility was the only thing that made sense.

Valery hopped down into the tunnel and already drew the hilt of her weapon into her hand. She didn't feel anybody, but there was a strange tension that tremored in the Force. Soon, after walking through the dark tunnel for several minutes, she heard the sound of droids echoing through the open tunnel and understood why she felt so tense. They were coming her way, likely to secure the tunnel against potential intruders, and she wasn't in the best shape to fight them alone.

She needed to be clever.

Looking around, Valery spotted a small hovercraft, meant to easily move around equipment or materials for maintenance. She hid behind it on the side of the hallway and reached out with her hand. A lamp on the ceiling nearby that wasn't functioning anymore shattered, causing shards to fall to the floor and create even more noise. She needed them close to spring her little trap.

Credit Wizard | Open​

 

[Kyric]

The two droidekas marched toward Kyric under the cover of their shields. Crimson bolts burst from the blasters built onto the end of their foldable arms in four steady streams bearing down on the Jedi Knight. He effortlessly twirled his blade around his body to deflect the oncoming fire. His guard switched from a traditional two-handed grip to that of a single-handed reverse, then back, as he danced between the blaster fire in search of an opening in the stream.

When nothing came to him, Kyric switched tactics. He deflected one bolt at the second of the grappler droids. It veered off course of Alaric. The damage tore through its chassis and destabilized the folding apparatus responsible for its rolling capabilities. Without it, the droid could do nothing but barrel into the shielded grappler. Metal screeched and bent on impact. Both droids tumbled to the floor and fell limp.

"Nice," Kyric muttered mid-pivot before he launched himself toward the still-firing destroyer droids. The distance between the droids and the Jedi shrunk as he wove between the blaster fire. About halfway there, he thrust his hand out toward one and yanked it to the side midway through its step via telekinesis. The destroyer stumbled awkwardly into the other's shield and bounced backward. Kyric reached out with his second hand and dragged the stumbling droid directly into the line of fire of the first.

Their shots bounced off the other's shield barriers ineffectually, but that wasn't really the point.

Kyric took a deep breath, pulled both hands back, and began to squeeze the struggling droid. Metal groaned and bent in on itself. Tiny sparks escaped little fissures across the exterior plating. He didn't stop until the barrier completely vanished and the droid was destroyed beneath the pressure of his psychic assault and the last droideka's heavy arms.

A faint blur set over Kyric's vision as the world doubled. He felt something warm on his lips and lifted his hand to investigate. Scarlet blood stained his fingertips as he pulled them away, but he couldn't slow down–not with Alaric relying on him to get them through this.

Kyric held the remnants of the battered droideka up like a shield and he began to circle around the droid. Its three pointed legs clacked awkwardly across the durasteel to keep the kiffar in its sights. He dropped the droid parts and yanked the destroyer's back leg forward right as it should have contacted the ground. The momentum saw the metallic monstrosity stumble backward onto its sloped shell.

No longer under fire, Kyric shoved the downed creature into a doorway and hurried to its side. The droid kicked out as if to pierce him with its pincer leg. Kyric side-stepped the attack, slammed his fist into the terminal along the wall, and watched the door descend unceremoniously to crush the droid's head. The kiffar repeated the process three more times until he felt satisfied with the results.

Alaric | Credit Wizard ​