Invasion Look What You Made Me Do (TSE Invasion of NIO Held Borosk & Troska)

[Dracken Pryce]

Galactic Alliance Navy - 3rd Sector Fleet - Admiral's Assault Squadron

Battlecruisers Destroyers Cruisers Frigates Corvettes Fighters In Play

• 
  
  • ANV Starchild II - Colony II-Class Battlecruiser [Incapacitated]
  • ANV Agni Kai - Redeemer-Class Battlecruiser
  • ANV Indullible 6 - Redeemer-Class Battlecruiser
  • ANV Freedom - Starhawk-Class Battleship
  • ANV Enduring Charity - Liberator Class Star Defender
  • ANS Heracross - REC-DSM/01 “Castellum” - Class Mobile Deepdock
• 
  
  • ANV Hyperion - Nebula II-Class Star Destroyer
  • ANV Guardian - Nebula II-Class Star Destroyer
  • ANV Renegade Unlimited - MC250b "Eurydice" class Mon Calamari Cruiser [Solo Mission]
  • ANV Ocean's Call - MC250b "Eurydice" class Mon Calamari Cruiser
  • NIV Granite Fist - Pellaeon III-Class Star Destroyer
• 
  
  • ANV Lylek - MC140c Scythe-Class Main Battle Cruiser
  • ANV Paradice Dawn - MC140c Scythe-Class Main Battle Cruiser
  • ANV Hawk-Bat - REC-AU01 "Prosecutor" - Class Planetary Assault Ship [Fighter Config]
  • NIV Dark Arrow - Valiant-Class 'Star Destroyer'
  • NIV Anodine - Inceptus-class Assault Ship
• 
  
  • Small Handful of Light Cruisers
  • Small Handful of CR-37 FarStar-Type Corellian Carriers
  • Sword Squadron 1-6 - Bador-Type Light Cruisers
• 
  
  • REC-CC01 "Avalon" - Class Corvettes
  • TXS Vandal-class Corvettes
  • ANV Kakarot - REC/GS-01 “Nimbus” - Class Gunship [Special Assignment with Renegade Unlimited]
  • Verious Nimbus-class Gunships
  • Warrior II - Class Gunships
• 
  
  • 
    Main Fleet Fighter Compliment Launched
  • T-90 X-Wings [Wildcat Squadron]
  • REC-AR01 R-wing Heavy Space Superiority Starfighters
  • REC-SS01 X-wing Space Superiority Starfighters
    
    Heracross Starfighter Compliment {10/30 Squadrons Launched}
  • V-Wings
  • REC-SS01 X-wing Space Superiority Starfighters
  • REC-ES01 E-wing Multi-Role Starfighters
    
    NIO Starfighter Compliment
  • TIE/OTx Outlanders
  • TIE/INx Interceptors
  • TIE/HF Slasher

Allies: Lirranne Isaris
Enemies: Melia Siari ​

Prefsbelt sector - New Imperial Held Borosk
System Orbit
3rd Fleet - The Agni Kai
Objective 3 - Breaking Lines

Commodore Satou was not liking his odds. He was Corellian and as the saying went, Corellians never cared about the odds...But that wasn't quite right. The saying came from the famed General Solo, a man they still learned about in history books in school back home. The actual quote was "Don't tell me the odds." Satou had always believed that it wasn't that the man didn't care, he just felt that if he knew how heavily the deck was stacked against him, how much they had to lose, that he wouldn't give his all and that he would ultimately create a self-fulfilling prophecy. So as the droid brains calculated their percentages and the casualty reports became coming in from the incoming fire he felt trapped by the odds. But he needed to be stronger, he needed to beat those odds. But that would be difficult with the demoralizing screams being played over the com. They were incoherent, but it was obvious they were recordings of the Sith, though of what worlds no one could be sure of unless they had actually been there themselves maybe. To Satou it was just chilling background noise, but it looked like they were jamming even their short-range coms. Getting through that would take some time.

"Shut that off," he shouted to the com station. He gritted his teeth as turbolaser fire blossomed into colorful waves that rippled across the shields and shook the Agni Kai. The screaming came to a haunting halt, cascading the bridge into total silence save from the distant rumble of explosions in space and the occasional beep from a console. Satou's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Get working on restoring our connection with the Starchild and I want firing solutions for the nearest Sith vessels yesterday. Fire at will." Silence. The clack of his boots echoing on the bridge as he made his way to the front viewport were deafening.

"Well?" His voice was thunderous, "We've got a battle to win and we won't get it done by standing around!" And like that the bridge snapped back to life. They'd surprised them with their little party trick, but that was all it would give them.

​

Galactic Alliance 3rd Sector Fleet
Wildcat Squadron
Assigned to Supercarrier Starchild II

Wildcat 3, Cub, was jostled in his seat as he came out of a spin after dodging anti-starfighter fire from one of the Sith cruisers. They were closing the distance now. The main battlefleet had still not launched fighters, but that didn't mean the initial invasion force hadn't. There were plenty out here already, just waiting to get turned into slag. Cub pulled his X-wing up and over a floating piece of debris, catching one such sith fighter off guard, letting all four of its laser cannons turn that Sith fighter into a sparking fireball. The superheated gas expanded quickly though, which normally wasn't a problem for starfighters. But in this case Cub was too close and the rapidly expanding gas buffeted his starfighter and sent shrapnel across his armor, chipping the paint in several places and folding up pieces of durasteel along his fuselage. His atstromech tweedled at him, the unkind words scrawling themselves on his dash screen.

"I'm sorry alright!"

Just then Wildcat 6, XO, flew up next to him.

"Keep your eyes open Cub," he said over com. That's when the screams came. They were shut off just as quickly by the astromechs but the effect was there. He heard an audible click as the astromechs all came together and formed a new squadron only channel.

"Uhhh, what in the Seven Hells was that?"

"I don't know but I don't like it," came the stoic reply of Wildcat Leader. "Keep flying, we've got a long day ahead of us." That was an understatement. They'd lost half of their squadron at Muunilinst and squadrons fighting at half strength, even elite ones like Wildcat, was a great way to get yourself killed. Cub didn't know what Pryce was doing...But he damn well hoped that after this battle they'd finally be able to take the break that this was supposed to be.

​

Galactic Alliance 3rd Fleet
Aboard the ANV Renegade Unlimited
Bridge

Commander Chun stood, her mouth agape with a dumbfounded expression on her face. One of her headtails fell from its place perched neatly on her shoulder and flopped down to her backside, the sudden weight tugging at her head bringing her back to reality. She snapped her head at one of her deck officers who stood equally dumbfounded. Just like that, the lead frigate had been turned to slag. A gout of green flame erupted from its port side engines causing a chain explosion of warheads. A few seconds later pods began jettisoning themselves from the vessel as it floated errantly towards the formation of corvettes who were trying their damndest to flee the ticking time bomb.

"Fff-" she stammered, "Fire! Fire at will! Don't let those corvettes get away!" She didn't say which corvettes, didn't give her gunnery crew exact orders. Inexperience on her part along with a new crew meant that she was riding by the seat of her pants, and everyone else knew it. The gunnery crews began speaking to their men and women at the guns, sending them firing solutions and orders. In moments the Renegade Unlimited's turbolaser blisters began firing on the corvettes, peppering their shields at first but then quickly either disabling their engines, sealing their fate, or destroying them outright. Despite her hazy orders, the skill of her gunner crew was exceptional, though whether the young Twi'lek realized that or not was up for debate.

"Who was that that fired on that frigate?" Who was it that had stolen her glory was what she wanted to say...But she was already a child playing war. She didn't need to give her people cause to hate her more than they likely already did.

 

[Kiber Dorn]

Currently Engaging: Théodoro
WILL EDIT THIS PART IN LATER, I HAVE WORK LIKE RIGHT NOW. OBJECTIVE 2. ADRIAN, KHONSU, INGRID AND FRIENDS.

The creation was delicate in intent, scraping away at the outer-most layers of the man's mind. It was akin to digging fingers through warm sand and granted a glow that befitted the moniker of Sun Guard. Perhaps in such a scenario, it would have been preferable for the Sithspawn to throw caution to the wind and exert all potential power into a terrifying mental barrage.

Rip.

Tear.

Rend.

The more gentle intrusion revealed more than outright destruction ever would, and as it delved deeper into the psyche of the man it found a strange similarity. One might have even said a kinship was the creature so inclined.

It was not.

His mind spoke of purpose, the task at hand and little more. Respectable and in the realm of war entirely logical. In an opponent, humanity was desirable because it suggested emotions which further entailed weakness. The perfect footsoldier, in theory, held none of these elements.

Around the floating monstrosity, chaos began to erupt with the emergence of more golden men to be met by those who served The Creator and the warning flash of lights and blare of emergency klaxons began to screech around them, painting the scene in a newfound desperate light.

It didn't matter and was rendered little more than background noise as the Sithspawn would remain on task until ordered otherwise, even if it meant a swift demise.

Could this man say the same?

You and I are alike in nature, boomed the mental voice of the abomination inside of his target's head, leaving behind a trail of screeches, like mental nails scraped slowly down the chalkboard of the mind, driven by purpose.

There had to be more, it needed to

dig

deeper.

The creature's efforts to penetrate the Sun Guard's mind intensified, the sensation would be uncomfortable and distracting if not guarded against.

WHAT LAYS BENEATH THE GOLD?

 

[Constantine Oliva]

Objective: Air support
Allies: NIO, Jalter Volff
Enemies: TSO

_________________________________________________________________________________

Hawk touched down hard on the battlefield, only a dozen feet from the wounded Imperial pilot. The doors opened, and the ship's marines rushed out. While they were few in number, and relatively lacking in combat experience, they worked well. With fire from the Sith lines suppressed by Hawk's guns, they were able to move without impediment. Two grabbed the wounded Jalter to help him onto Hawk. The other eight provided covering fire, slowly moving back to the ship. Their commander radioed back to Constantine before speaking to Jalter.

"We've got him, and we back onboard. We're all clear to get back in the skies."

The doors closed and Hawk lurched as it lifted off again, still firing at Sith forces surrounding it. The marines moved quickly whit their on board medical equipment, though the pilot would definitely need more serious treatment after this.

"Brawler 3-1 you got a name? We're gonna keep you alive but you're messed up pretty bad."

 

[Hypatia Arresh]

Location: Borosk
Target: Madelyn Lowe | Target by Proxy Eleanor Lowe
Allies of Circumstance: NIO
Enemies by Circumstance: TSE

Right. Hypatia remembered now, the carbonite gun wasn't on her person - it was inbuilt into her suit. An aerosol form on the other arm. There wasn't another word, only a rush of motion, rifle lowered and carbonite sprayed out toward the woman who had in Hypatia's opinion a rather shaky grip on the gun. It was a light spray, not enough to fully encapsulate but enough to keep them 'cool' for the time being. By this point, artillery had gone quiet - at least for the moment, the Mandalorian hypothesized. She slung her disruptor rifle onto her back and adjusted the strap along her shoulder, gingerly she approached the Grand Moff.​

​

An armored glove carefully laid the woman back, her hair was matted and blood dried. Hypatia brushed strands of blonde hair away from the Grand Moff's eyes. Mesh'la. What a time to catch some feelings, the Bounty Hunter thought to herself. She reached into one of the pouches in her utility belt and withdrew a small stimulant. A medicinal stimulant that would at the very least accelerate some of the Grand Moff's own healing processes. Carefully the Mandalorian looked the Grand Moff's arms over looking for a good spot to inject the stimulant. In the back of her mind, she knew this was an easy job for the others in the Guild. They'd've shot the ad'ika and taken their prey. ​

​

She wasn't most Hunters.​

​

No glory or honor in hunting something, or someone that's already down.​

​

Still. Grand Moff Lowe was a Sith-Imperial, and worse a former First Imperial. She should pay for what the Sith had done to the Mandalorians, but then - Mandalorians weren't beholden to Mandalore. They were a culture of nomadic warriors who rested wherever they could. An alarm within Hypatia's hud alerted her to danger. She took a step back and examined her surroundings and nothing immediately jumped out at her as dangerous. Things felt relatively calm, at least, until Hypatia looked up.​

​

Kriff.​

​

The Mandalorian looked over at the other one, "you're right, names have power - but only if you let it, ad'ika." With one hand she grabbed that one and pulled her forward. "We don't have time to argue, I've got to get you and her out of here." Hypatia slung the little one over her shoulder and shifted her slightly. "Don't even think about pulling the weapon, you don't have to trust me - but you do need me, and if you have any doubt - just look up."​

​

Delicately, Hypatia scooped the Grand Moff into her arms. I picked a bad time to skip leg day.​

​

​

 

[Théodoro]

// THEO // THYRSIAN SUN GUARD // RAGING FIRE
// OBJECTIVE // CRIPPLE THE BALEFUL // BREAK THE LIMIT
// FOCUS // Kiber Dorn // LT-137 // AMCO Ingrid L'lerim
// REGALIA // IN BIO // 2x Wrist Rockets
// THEME // ENEMY // TOMMEE PROFITT, BEACON LIGHT AND SAM TINNESZ

The gold melted away, and all that was left was fire.
It was pure and flickering.
All imperfections burned away in the fires of conflict.
And that was the truth at the core of the Sun Guard.
His soul, aflame.
His heart, steeled.
His focus, unbreakable.
His purpose, without limit.
Where some faltered, he could not stop moving.
Where some stayed down, he rose to the challenge.
Where some stopped at their ceiling, he broke through without hesitation.
They were alike but not the same.
The creature was driven by purpose, but limited by it.

A true Sun Guard was one who broke the limit, for no line was to be left uncrossed in the climb to the top and beyond.

The flame was unbridled, sure to burn any who got too close.

​

The invasion of his mind was a distraction Theo could not afford. The cost was evident soon enough. The young warrior blinked, but by the time his eyes reopened he was being gripped by some spectral force, a pair of red lightsabers ignited in front of him. The dance of those flaming blades mirrored Theo's eyes. Here he faced opponents far stronger than he. That was simply what made life worth living.

His eyes flicked in his HUD, the retinal tracker recognizing the command instantly. The Bulwark shielding system sprung to life mere moments before the sabers made contact. Theo was encased in a blue glow that blocked the sabers. Even the few moments of contact was likely enough to discharge the weapons; the Bulwark's cortosis circuitry was what made it such an effective personal shield. With any luck it would be enough to discharge both lightsabers entirely, but Theo could feel the shielding unit heating up against his back.

And there was still the problem of being held aloft by some sort of telekinesis.

His armor was quick to flood with information as he looked down at the Sith and his floating weapons. First was the fact that it was not the Sith holding those weapons -- a creature, cleverly hidden by some sort of cloaking method, stood before him. They were hidden from all his scanners aside from the thermals. Next was the signal of Khonsu Amon just down the hall, surely on his way to do battle with these warriors. Finally, the alarms began to blare as the ship began to dip towards the surface of the planet below. While the Baleful's artificial gravity held strong, Theo felt the tug of the planet's gravity. Had another group succeeded in crippling the ship? That was good. He could focus on the fight at hand.

Even as he pushed the distractions aside, Theo knew there was little he could do when in the Sith's grip. It was time for some surprises. "Show yourself, coward!" He roared at the cloaked one. A moment later the mandible-mounted flamethrower activated, spewing fire from the mouth of the Sun Guard at the enemies in front of him. At the same time he struggled to bend his knees slightly, firing off the miniature explosive darts mounted there. The yield was inconsequential; far from enough to kill them but enough to provide a problem or injury. And that could be enough to break the Sith's grip on him.

 

[Grigory Tallis]

Location: Cassel Point, Hangar #337
Objective: Vanguard Duty
Equipment: Strike Force Armour [x] | AK-57 Charric Rifle [x] | BH-Vibroknife [x] | BH-Pistol [x] | 8x IL-62G Grenades [x]
Opponent: Siv Dragr


Beneath the roar and crackling of the flames, Grigory could hear the quiet, deliberate steps of boots upon metal. Coolly approaching. Lying face down, Grigory could tell that this predator did not take his prey for dead. Careful. Deliberate. He could respect that in an opponent. Grigory's mind flashed back to Varonat in that moment. The suffocating humidity. The Ssi-Ruuvi, crawling and prowling for their prey. Him playing dead to avoid their prying gaze. History seemed to repeat itself. He remembered those long nights in the muck and the filth. The rain. The blistering heat. And the screaming. All the screaming. His comrades dragged into that jungle, never to be seen again. There was a fear that festered in a younger man. That he would be discovered, found and then drained for the lizards sick technology. But not now. Now the hunter had found him. And it was time to strike.

Grigory's heart began to pump harder and harder. He could feel the steps coming closer. He could hear his assailant unholstering their firearm. Grigory reached for his own, slowly and carefully. His ape-like palm tightened around the grip of the gun, and Grigory closed his eyes. He took three deep breathes, steadying the anxiety which bubbled . When he could feel the approaching attacker but a few meters away, the army major rolled onto his side, and that's when he saw his attacker. A Mandalorian. Of course it was one of them. Of course. Grigory's rage bubbled over and he let out a ravenous roar. Gutteral and filled with fury.

These sorts of barbarians had now killed his men. Not once. But twice. Snuffing out some of the Tallis' finest soldiers and comrades. And now one of them stood, weapon in hand and ready to kill him. Not today. Not today. Grigory let rip with his weapon and fired at the Mandalorian, aiming squarely at his chest and helm. Tallis would not allow himself to die. Not until he avenged his comrades.

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

// IMPERATOR //: 501st Legion
// OBJECTIVE //: Cassel Point | The Ramparts | Dance with The Devil
// ALLIES | NIO //: Agrippa
// ENEMIES | TSE //: Kascalion Giedfield | Cognus Legion
Armor | Rifle | Pistol | Melee | Grenades

​

I R V E R I C _ T A V L A R
S E L F _ I M M O L A T E

No quarter taken. No quarter given. It was time to end it. The despicable being of The Devil before him. A manifestation of all that served a catalyst to Irveric's strife. The Sith had been so as a whole but Kascalion had donned a unique visage. He'd made this fight not one of existence between the Imperial 'creed' and the Sith Order. The order against the darkness. No, to Kascalion the slaughter a personal grievance to undo revenated slights. And in his ambitions he only served to solidify a nemesis in the Sovereign Imperator. And if Irveric had proven anything it was that he would take vengeance into his own hands.

The Sith Empire had been deemed indestructible. Cloistering in their court of gods as their subjects withered beneath their rule. They were now seeing the fruits of her hubris made manifest. But for now, Irveric could not revel in the bloodshed. He couldn't bare any satisfaction amidst the slaughter. No. Kascalion had shed that armor enclosed around Irveric's psyche. His emotional fortitude and coldness melted away by the rage summoned in his taunting incantation taken on by The Devil. Tavlar had been good not to make himself all too vulnerable. He had been severed of any personal connections, he had very few if any confidants and a family long abandoned to time and circumstance. All the same, he had her. The only grounding figure capable of grasping Irveric back from burying himself into the void. And now she had been taken all the same though not by death or time but by them. The darkness. The Devil. He had to die.

The choking voidstone smoke enveloped them though it continued to bare no effect unto Enigma Actual. It was an ashen air mean't to choke and suffocate the abilities of those who relied on the force where Irveric had stood on a foundation solely composed of martial prowess and sheer will. Though he didn't think besting Kascalion would be as easy now as it was on Velmor, he did not expect the response. He ultimately saw The Devil veering away in avoidance to the fumes, to retain the tether of power he'd so carefully honed for hundreds of years. In stead, Kascalion buried himself into the fray of combat against Irveric and met him directly. The Devil would seek to impose his will all the same.

Irveric let out a pained groan as he felt the shock of the impact grip his body as they plummeted from the ramparts to the earth below though the invigorating sting of stimulant injected through his veins from the bodyglove enclosed around his body. Sounding the dread alarm for only the faintest of moments before he surveyed his ground and pressed all focus into the primal match of wills he vied with The Devil, mustering every fiber to overpower and kill this demon. But his force was binding, he could feel his tenacity slipping. The weakness of mortal flesh against one of the very Gods that Irveric sought to dethrone. While his body was confined down and compromised into the position of weak powerlessness that ren

"She will be lost to you, Tavlar!"

"And you will watch as I rend her soul apart, forge her into something unrecognizable. Something so unworthy to existence that the Force will abandon her in the end. Something you will be disgusted by. Something you will only look upon with utter hate. And I will watch as you put her down like a mangy rat."

<"AAAAAAGH! Stop...STOP! I'll end you again Sith!"> Feeling his mental state corrode at its foundations as he was flood with emotions again it was then that he pressed his body, his tolerance for pain beyond its breaking point. It was his cybernetic locked into the periless bind of The Devil, thus a false limb and a useless vessel in its precarious state. Contouring the limb back he inched his body forward to try and escape the grasp all the while the force Kascalion could apply in confining Irveric's limb to his back continued unfettered. Continuing to contort his arm and twist it until it strained the rigidity of the mechanics before he could feel the cybernetic port in his arm actively strained. The strength of Kascalion negated the rybcoarse, the durasteel, reactive fiber, all of it. Twisting his upper body, he finally let it go.

Snapping off the cybernetic limb with an electric rasp as the points of connection hit open air he let out a loud groan of searing pain but now he was over Kascalion in a position of dominance despite being within the Devil's guard. Reaching his now lone arm forward in a fierce snatch toward Kascalion's head, he sought to dig the gruesome, crushing force of his crushgaunt into Kascalion's skull. To end it.

// IMPCOM //: Waylon Treicolt | Anton Cassel | 908th Legion | 12th Armored Assault
// OBJECTIVE //: Cassel Point | Hypervelocity Gun | Interacting With HMS BANEFUL
// FOCUS //: Ellie Mors | Thaelius | Dracken Pryce | Lirranne Isaris | Marlon Sularen

I M P E R I A L _ H I G H _ C O M M A N D
A S S A U L T

<"Captain! Captain!"> One of the 908th barked out in the direction of Anton as he made way down the corridor in a frantic pace, the Stormtrooper having just emerged from the garrison's Combat Information Center. This couldn't be good.

<"Sergeant."> Anton offered in reply to the man.

<"The Sith vessel identified 'Baneful' is making a descent from orbit. The vessel carrying their High Command."> The subordinate trooper sounded out, that line alone forcing an aura of silence around the two of them.

<"Uh- the cannon, the cannon. Is it up?"> Cassel inquired, referring to the main bruising line of defense for the fortress in the hypervelocity gun fixed to the stronghold. Aimed toward the battle in orbit. As no Sith infiltrators had managed sabotage it nor precision targetted by any Sith strikes be they artillery since it was apprehended by Waylon Treicolt's armored detachment nor from the sky as the battle remained deadlock in orbit with contested air around Cassel Point.

It was ready to fire.

<"Yes sir. Though...the Imperator- the Sovereign Imperator instructed not to target the Baneful. It has too many of our command on it."> The trooper sounded out with a distressed inflection making his pattern of speech dogged and strained.

<"Yeah...get-...get Nomad-Actual, Treicolt."> Vidage sounded off. Best to look for input. He had the keys to the Cassel but he was not the highest ranking officer on point. As the detachment of 501st under the command of Tavlar continued to hold the line at the ramparts, Waylon's attempted to bait the Sith toward the more fortified New Imperial positions were seemingly conducted with no fettering to his stratagem and thus, his comms were open again.

<"Nomad-Actual, receiving."> Waylon sounded off in reply.

<"Sir- General. The Baneful is descending toward the planet surface, requesting permission to fire the hypervelocity gun."> He inquired through ragged breaths before the door slid open to the garrison's CIC again. Glancing toward one of the officers at the commscan station, he awaited for Treicolt's reply. It was an agonizing silence between the Tank Commander and Cassel. But eventually, his voice crackled to life on the other end.

<"Several New Imperial command personnel are aboard that vessel, Captain."> If executed poorly, it could've very well be a compromise of trust among the ranks of the Order. Another bout of silence paralyzed the line of communication before Treicolt spoke again.

<"Drop the shields, fire the gun.">Treicolt commanded coldly before his comms switched to the frequency connecting to the New Imperial - Alliance coalition fleet command in orbit.

<"This is Major General Treicolt, Cassel Point is readying to fire on the HMS Baneful, in the event the ship is knocked out and begins a rapid descent to the planetary surface, standby on tractor beams to keep the ship afloat. We can't let them out of our grasp."> Waylon transmitted to the Naval commanders. And then another came through to the boarding team.

<"Cassel Point will be firing on your position. Danger close. Take all necessary actions."> Waylon stated outright.

<"Systems check- all clear."> One of the gunnery crew at the hypervelocity gun sounded out before another came in to mirror the message in confirmation.

<"All clear.">

<"Lock on target - confirm target is Sith-Imperial Marr Two-class Star Destroyer 'Baneful'."> One of the gunnery crew sounded off.

<"Copy, target confirmed."> He was met with a concise reply.

<"Understood. Initiating firing sequence...five...four...three...two...one."> The translucent blue sheen of the half sphere enclosing Cassel Point shuddered before disappearing completely as the gun emitted a low hum as the internal mechanic and electrical systems sparked to life. Then a silence paralyzed the air around the gun in the instant before a thunderous rip as the volley of solid slugs fired at hypervelocity toward the Sith Star Destroyer on its descent. The rapid firing of the weapon's volley leaving a bruising sound echo in its wake that emitted from the weapon only after the tracing stream of the rounds left the barrel.

Spoiler: After Action Report

Cassel Point big gun fires at the HMS Baneful and Cassel Point's shields are dropped for a sec.

EDIT: warning for the NIO boarding action folk

 

[Vaeri]

Tags: Vora Kaar Darth Vinaze Kalanda Tishire Amur
Location: Cassel point Jacuzzi room. lol jk

Spoiler: Who I'm responding to

Post: 3
Location: Cassel Point
Faction Objective: Obj 1: Eliminate NIO Force holding the facility
Allies: Kalanda Tishire any TSE forces nearby
Enemies: Vora Kaar Darth Vinaze Vaeri NIO Forces nearby
Gear: Listed in Character Bio
Currently: Fighting a few brooding Sith and a Jedi

Well atleast Kalanda was trying… was. Granted the poor woman didn’t have to worry too much about being a warrior up until now. To think Amur saw the witch incinerate a Starweird but yet she didn’t know how to sound intimidating. Still in an environment like this Kala would have to learn quickly, sadly. With the whispered question from the witch though Amur’s mind couldn’t help but think up a lewd answer that was almost certain to embarrass Kala. Though that would have to be saved for later as this cold fight was about to get heated. Instead the Sith would offer a simple ”You’ll learn” instead.

She felt the determined gaze from the Jedi that was eyeing the entire lot of them. There was a ferocity in those eyes as Amur vaguely heard the Jedi’s comment. With it she could feel the air around Kalanda change from it’s overwhelming nervosity into a cold and billowing focus. With it the Sith’s demeanor would change as well. The open and flirtatious attitude of a lover was gone now changing into the steely presence of a predator.

The position they were in was ideal. Situated behind the Sith while they had to face the Jedi to their front creating a situation where they would be surrounded. It also seemed that Amur making their presence known had served as the perfect fuel forcing the Jedi to fight. An immediate threat that would force the two Apostates to have to divide their attention. Amur’s current working strategy would be simple: Aid the Jedi for now and let attrition do it’s work.

The Sith would move now picking her pace up into a light run towards the melee as she saw the beginning waves of the fight commence, readying the force as she prepared her move. Studying the fight, the Apostates were still focused primarily on the Jedi, lovely. When Amur neared 7 feet away she would slow to a halt, her hand was tensed and ready. Upon the beginning of the second wave of strikes from the Jedi to Vora Kaar Amur punch her hand out as she channeled a force push directed at Vora’s legs, she wasn’t aiming to knock the Sith lord off his feet, that would merely complicate the chances of the Jedi’s strikes landing. Instead it was done with the aim of disrupting his balance and concentration at the critical moment he would have to dodge.

Quickly she would reach down and draw her lightsaber, the blade igniting and adding even more red light to bask the hallway in as she eyed the group of 3. Readying to defend against anything that may be thrown her way.

”Any room for one more? The sith teased as her lightsaber waved from Sith to Jedi.

Location: Cassel Point
Faction Objective: Obj 1: Eliminate NIO Force holding the facility
Allies: Amur Any TSE forces nearby
Enemies: Vora Kaar Darth Vinaze Vaeri Any NIO Forces nearby
Gear: Listed in Bio and Storm Armor Mk. III
Currently: Backing up Murmur

Well, it went better than the last time at least? Amur didn't snicker when she got done with her threat, so that was an improvement. Amur's response earned the Sith a gleeful nod, as she stepped back to watch the fight, only to find that the jedi were totally ignoring them. Weird. They were still angry at one another, and the fact they were waving lightsabers and swearing to kill one another sorta supported the fact that yes, they were indeed trying to commit murder. But why were they ignoring them? "Um...hello?" She questioned, her voice trailing off when it was realized that their entrance was almost entirely unnoticed. That was a tad rude, especially after they literally introduced themselves. Kala's brow furrowed, her finger slowly set onto the ignition switch of the saber; though she still watched Amur for a go ahead signal.

Kalanda wasn't very practiced in saber combat, if anything she relied on reading peoples auras to determine what they would do next, and then merely dodging until they made a mistake; and that was going to be her same plan here. After all, if she got injured it would distract Amur, putting both of them at risk.

A bit of lightning danced at her fingertips, but she calmed herself, knowing that hurling a bolt into the fray would make them quite unpopular. She did a double take, and had to assume that one of these people was a bad sith, and the others were jedi; at least that's what Kala could work out, because this apostate stuff frankly confused her. It wouldn't matter though, they would beat both of these miscreants and they could finally take that vacation they had talked about for so long.

When Amur made her move, Kalanda cackled in delight, feeling that rush of adrenaline come back and harder now; maybe she could get used to this. She let Amur lead, knowing that she was the better fighter of the two of them, not to mention she preferred staying away from the glowing death sticks that were flying about. "Make it two. The more the merrier!" Kalanda exclaimed, flicking her green saber on as she would keep her senses aware for any incoming force attacks. She would give Amur support from the back, and be there to whisk her love out if things took a turn for the worst. A thought crossed her mind for only a second before she continued on, but it made her feel a tad uneasy; her mother would be so proud to see her now.

<// LOCATION - Castle Point, Internal Halls //>
<// FOCUS - Kalanda Tishire / Darth Vinaze / Vaeri / Amur //>
<// EQUIPMENT - Saber / Helmet / Companion //>

This Jedi desired much from this fight. Backing up out of the strikes, only to come in for more. Seemingly to use more footwork, dancing and staying out of range from other sabers, but come in quick for strikes with her double blade. It made sense. Why would a double blade stand ground and make it harder to move and function with such a larger weapon. However, the best way to combat a moving foe, is to do the exact opposite.

Standing your ground, Holding it and letting them come to you so that a stalwart defensive measure, would tire them out. OR, wait for a mistake. It took just a mere usage of the force. An invisible hand to anchor Vora to the ground. Keeping him stable with the sudden lunge and strikes aimed for the figure. A lunge is good for closing distance, or for a feint from a swipe. However, it was very weak and and required very little to move the blade off course. Even should the strike be over head.

A simple twirl off to the side, a flick of the wrist as it were, could have one's blade move with just enough speed, to push the rod of plasma away from its course. While the saber's initial strike was sided, more came. The Jedi was clearly capable, and Vora expected much from their religious counterpart. The onslaught of secondary strikes afterwords countered with more defensive measures. Utilizing the crossguard while the blade slid down and smacked into a very short lock just before Derleth came to kick her.

However, the actions of the Sith behind them did not go unnoticed. The ramming force push sent at Vora's stature was clearly meant to be in spite of the combat currently going on. So it was these Sith-Imperials who wished to fight with the Jedi in a war of attrition. Very well. It was only sheer luck that the actions of Planting, or doubling down in the defensive measures against the Jedi, that made the effort of the force be not so drastic. Had Vora attempted to move, it would have been difficult to keep a stance.

Sometimes, Inaction provides a better advantage than action itself.

A rage seemed to slowly begin to palpitate around the Sith Lord. Many of his own allies knew of a rather dangerous habit of the Lord for anger and rage issues. This spiteful action by the Sith, was a mere slight upon Kaar. It was no longer an objective fight, but a personal one. Foregoing the chance to secure the kill on the Jedi, Vora turned his mask to the Sith. Asking for a fight.

The force seemed to swell up within Vora easily and quickly. Turning to face them as they attempted to close the distance The Green and Red sabers of these new two combatants were not was the Lord of None wanted to look forward too. And so, he would unleash his wroth upon them. An explosive wave surged from his form without movement on the Lords part. A hatred, a Rage that could be felt by all within the vicinity. Waves of Hatred came from the darkened frame.

"You didn't say please."

A blur of motion with closing the distance. The crackling saber coming for a very hard downward strike at the closets of Imperial-Sith. Single handed grip upon the weapon. From the blades follow-through, a backhanded swing came from the blade, followed with an upper cut swing from the Vora's right. Another attack coming from the follow through of the upper cut, was the Elbow thrown towards the head, with another back swing from Vora's Left.

Each strike thrown was only met with another step forward into the guard and saber range of this other Sith. This initial onslaught of strikes fueled by a rage that permeated the air with a thick, suffocating hatred towards these Sith who had the gall to intervene.

"You wanted my attention, You have me undivided."

Location: Cassel Point
Allies: NIO // Vora Kaar
Enemies: TSE // Vaeri // Kalanda Tishire // Amur
​

Derleth could feel the hatred flowing through her. He could see it in the Jedi's eyes when she looked at him in shock. Even from the prone position he was able to toy with her. She did not find it as amusing as the Sith. A shock-wave through the force sent him , still on his back, spinning into a wall. He let out a yell of pain and anger as his body slammed against it. He was done hiding his rage. Apparently the Jedi was as well. Derleth understood the code of her people almost as well as the code of his own. He knew that anger was always the folly of the Jedi. Such a natural emotion they were expected to surpress. Right now there was only emotion. Right now there was only chaos.

He reached out into the force and pulled his sword away from the combatants before pulling himself back up into standing. He gripped his sword tightly in front of him and began to hold his ground, gritting his teeth with a desire to show this misguided girl the power of the Sith.

He was not the only one to will this.

Two more figures, the ones he had sensed arriving, appeared behind them. They jested as they ignited their sabers. Sith Imperials. More enemies, most likely on their way to the command center. Should him and Vora fail now, the Empire would be even closer to taking Borosk. He, and all of the true Sith, needed to see his vision come true. He planted his feet firmly as to not suffer another fall. He was back to back with his ally, who quickly took the opportunity to lash out at the newcomers. Derleth kept his attention on the Jedi.

"It is not too late to submit, Jedi! Channel your hatred towards the invaders!" he gave one last offer to the woman as he raised his sword. He doubted his abilities of persuasion, but he prayed that she would appeal to reason instead of being blinded by her Jedi training. It might have saved her.

Neither of their words made sense. The jedi pulled herself to her feet, wasting no time on her confusion as she raised her- Vora Kaar left her moment of vulnerability unpressed, instead turning to deal with two other sith with quick strokes.

"You wanted my attention, You have me undivided."

Did she now? Because it looked like he was fighting his friends. The concept that there were two sides of sith to this engagement slowly reached the jedi, who only recently had emerged from the underground and found herself here. She had questions, but in Typical Vaeri fashion, she opted to find them skewed to the end of her weapon.

"You are all invaders," she told Vora, her voice so soft it nearly passed unheard over the scuffle of the others. Vaeri kept track of them in the back of her mind, not paying them heed until they stepped towards her or proved to be a threat.

You have to focus your attention, Vaeri. You'll kill yourself trying to catch it all.

But that's why I have tw-Thunk -Hey ow!

Pick your focus.

Her eyes narrows on Vor, the woman changing her pace and taking small steps around him in a circle. He would be forced to walk with her and place his back to the others, or sacrifice his side to an open attack.

Either way, she moved in, an overhead strike being leveled at his head. If caught, this would set him up for a quick twist of her wrist and rotation of her blade around his. The goal was to lock blades and force his to move with hers, leaving his body open for the bite of her back blade as she completed the circuit and flicked it up.

It wasn't a strike meant to kill, but to maim? Weaken? Oh absolutely.

Either way, she'd aim to kick him back and force him to give up more ground. She wanted to force him closer to his 'enemies'. Her gaze flickered to them, tense and ready to disable them next.

 

[Ryv]

// Sword of the Jedi //
// Borosk //
// Simp for Loske //
// Stay //
// Allyson Locke // Loske Treicolt // Adriana Fortemps //

Blaster fire slammed into the earth below Ryv as he dashed from cover to cover. Whenever a bolt flew too close to home, the Blade of Ruusan struck out, catching the errant shot before redirecting it elsewhere. His gaze jumped between Allyson, Loske, and Jorryn, with each passing second. He could feel the shifting emotions pulsate from behind him as the Corellian struggled against the constantly changing state of being that was her mind. The pain echoing from her spirit struck home, piercing the Kiffar's heart, driven deep like a jagged obsidian blade. His body staggered, the beacon of light recognizable to the forces holding Borosk wavering momentarily, flickering in and out like a cracked lightbulb. The Jedi's sentient blade, unlike its master, did not hesitate. Warm energy seeped into Ryv's heart. It reignited that spark of hope he held dearly, even as the woman he loved drove the obsidian stake into his heart over, and over, and over, tearing apart everything she built there.

Memories flashed across Ryv's consciousness, images of a much happier time surging forth to protect his wavering will. A lazy Sunday morning, a breakfast far too large for either of them to finish. Cartoons he hadn't watched since he was a child, flickering across the custom holo terminal built into his living room. Each a fragment of something she'd promised him, dirtied by the truth of her flagrant disguise. As Allyson's blade tore into his soul, it shattered all Ryv held dear, replacing those warm memories with a cold, gaping emptiness. Amber eyes closed themselves off to the world, the events transpiring between the quartet unnecessary to witness, as the Force provided everything the Sword of the Jedi needed to see. Another wave of power poured into him, filling those ragged wounds with a reprieve, the Blade of Ruusan fighting tooth and nail to provide it's master a sense of calm.

"Ryv."

"I know."

"Good."

Ryv slid to a stop, his eyes snapping open as the surge of energy crashed over the battlefield, ripping Loske from her feet. His lips parted, perhaps to scream, the Kiffar's teeth bit down instead. Every battlefield came with the promise of pain, every war zone the impending touch of loss. He'd seen death on a scale far grander than he ever thought possible, but Borosk's truths presented themselves far more painfully than anything the Jedi Knight could've expected. Dreams fell away, his blurred vision replaced by ugly reality. Allyson may have loved him once, maybe as much as she claimed to him, or Loske. She may have cared about Loske as one might a sister. But none of it mattered, not anymore. Ryv wasn't going to carry the blonde's corpse to Maynard, he wasn't going to tell him he couldn't keep her safe. Especially not against his problem, one created right under his nose.

Loske's attack created an opening, one Ryv capitalized on as he dashed forward. He reached out with his left hand, sending a crushing wave of energy barreling towards Allyson. The Jedi Knight had no intention of pulling his punches as the power bore the weight of a controlled storm. He didn't slow, his body gaining speed as it blurred beyond what the naked eye could follow. Cyan light trailed in the afterimage left behind by the rocketing Jedi Knight, small motes of flickering light failing to meet the ground before Ryv came to a halt. From behind him, a blast of rushing wind cascaded over the white-haired Echani, her hair kicked up, alongside dirt and grime beneath them both. The Jedi's eyes met the burnings orbs of corruption alight with Bogan's dark powers, Ryv's being radiating Ashla's cleansing brilliance.

"She will attack you if you engage this one, Ryv. The traitor is drunk with passion. You mustn't fight this battle on two fronts."

"I am not letting them hurt Loske," Ryv's thoughts left no room for discussion, the bright blade within his grasp silent as it accepted their mission. The Jedi preserved life, even if meant losing their own. "In this horrid battle, I've already lost so much, Blade. I will not lose Loske to them too."

"Very well," the Blade responded, its focus falling back to Ryv and his defenses.

Ryv's hands tightened upon the intricate hilt of his former master's weapon, a deep breath inhaled, rolling down the length of his throat, expanding muscle, while calming the thunderous beating of his heart. Never had the Jedi Knight taken the life on one he considered redeemable. Standing amid the dusty and barren field, the dry sun beating down on the back of the Kiffar's neck, he saw not the path of redemption within Jorryn's sickly gaze. He saw years worth of pain, some belong to her, some belonging to the victims she claimed as her own, both intermingling to make up the horrid beast parading itself about in the flesh of one who should've been beautiful. Ryv did not gaze upon the torrent of lies, and half truth's capable of entrancing the likes of the traitor. He looked through them, his knowing gaze piercing the haze of bravado worn like a mask upon the Inquisitor's face.

"I can feel your pain, awash with the blood of innocents. Your sins have named you a beast, a bringer of the end, a monster that must face its doom," Ryv lifted the Blade of Ruusan high. "I will make it quick. Thank the Force for its final mercy, Sith."

The lightsaber swept downward, crashing towards the Sith-Imperial as if to slice her clean in two.

 

[Rae]

//: The Truth //:
//: Borosk //:
//: Simp for Jorryn //:
//: Adriana Fortemps //: Loske Treicolt //: Ryv //:

Cause all of my enemies started out friends​

Protection.

Every fiber of her soul was willing to die for the woman behind her, a feeling she couldn't shake. The fight in her heart threatened to shatter her mind. Two sides fighting to protect Jorryn for different reasons. Allyson needed to keep her source of intel alive, sell the facade of her cover, and continue the deep cover mission. The one that should have ended.​

On the other hand, Rae, fought for control, wanting to protect the Echani behind her because of attachment. There was no facade with the cover, she whole-heartedly believed she cared for the woman. She would die to ensure her safety. ​

Eyes looked at Loske, the look on her face was familiar; she had seen it before. Rae remembered times in the mirror when she struggled to hold control of the mind. The haze of feeling the memories of others and the pain she suddenly felt in her chest from the Jedi. They were all bonded with the Corellian at the center, all attached to her, and she wanted to scream. Ryv and Loske wouldn't be in danger right now if she had kept them at an arm's length. Disposable pawns, deniable assets, and a ghost, those were what she was. Allyson Locke wasn't supposed to exist, it had been burned into her eighteen-year-old brain so many years ago. It was her truth, and even though everyone tried to make her feel human, it was a fruitless endeavor. No matter how much she cared and loved, there would come a day where she would die alone. She would die alone by the hands that fed her or abandoned her to the enemy. ​

If she died today, she would be facing her fate. If she died, she hoped that Jorryn would have enough time to escape and maybe remember her. Rae knew that Allyson wasn't real either - none of her was. Everything that made her was an elaborate lie that people believed. ​

The danger was around them, the mission stopped being passing the intel to her companions. They had the intel she had risked her life for now; they wanted to sit and fight. If she lost Jorryn, everything would be for naught. Loske was the first to attack; the lasso of the Force shot forward, instinctively she commanded the Force. She felt something inside of her, tapping into her emotions, that desire to survive and protect. The blast of the Force and the lasso attack from the Jedi hit the invisible barrier the Corellian summoned. Both attacks caused the woman to slide back slightly, feeling the dirt under her boots shuffle as she slid into the Echani woman. ​

Allyson knew about her comrades, she knew the dossiers of almost all of the Jedi in the New Order. It was her job to know their powers, their strengths, and their weaknesses. She was a liability to them, and it was why she knew she would be killed on sight. There was no recovery for her, only prison and death awaited her. ​

Ryv was far more than what he looked, he was strong, more than any knight the Order had. Rae knew that she didn't have much time to react and that he would want to jump on them when he saw it. She had hoped that the dossiers were wrong, that the intel was bad, and that the man had other plans to deal with things. It was in that instant, Ryv appeared close. Rae felt her skin ripple with adrenaline as she listened to his words, they landed on her ears, and she knew his target. ​

He wasn't worried about her - he focused wholly on who she was protecting. Reality slowed, Rae could feel her body move on its own. She was stuck in a never-ending loop of flashes of moments she had shared with them. Loske and her terrible cooking, laughter as pots bubbled over, and cakes burned in the oven. She could hear the woman's voice in her mind as she cracked jokes filled with terrible puns about her abilities with a pot and pan. The warmth she felt, she tried to hold on to it, but it felt as if it was slipping through her hands. ​

Feet moved, and a hand shoved Jorryn out of the way. Inaudible words came from the Corellian as she cut off the words of the Sword of the Jedi. As she moved in front of him, she could only see his smiling face as she woke up next to him. The few moments he smiled - he had done so with her. Her heart sank into her stomach as she remembered their time together, brief as it was she was happy. Yet, they both, in the end, chose their jobs and the safety of the galaxy. He felt so far from her, he always had. Allyson always felt like she was reaching for him, still trying to find a way to hold onto him - to feel like she was real. ​

As the warmth of the Jedi left her, one would replace it. She felt the embrace of the Echani woman holding her tightly. She felt herself melt into it, feeling welcomed by it. ​

Time returned, and Rae finally had taken control of the Corellian. Both hands gripping the afflicted lightsaber, emerald eyes flashing a hint of amber as she turned on her lover. His attack came overhead, but Rae took advantage of his determination and swung the saber from the left of his body. Something held her back from driving the saber through his torso, she still loved him, she always felt his hold on her heart. Instead, her blade took aim towards his arm and blade to deflect his attack from the Sith. Following the attack, the force swelled around her, its source changing as she focused the invisible energy towards the man. She was as gentle as she could be with the blast, something inside of her held back. Allyson just wanted him to be away from the fight and to be away from Jorryn. ​

Tears she couldn't control streamed down her face, staining it through the dirt she had collected from the fight and their chase. Rae didn't know why she was crying, but her voice cracked through the Imperial accent. ​

"Just go…" ​

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Location: Cassel Point, Borosk | Ramparts
Objective: Take the Stronghold | Kill the New Imperial Order Forces | Continue verbally blasting Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Start Round Two
Allies: TSE
Enemies: NIO | Irveric Tavlar
NPC Forces:

• Cognus Legion - 1st Battalion - Korriban Company [114 Soldiers]
• Argent Walkers - 2nd Battalion - Typh Company [89 Soldiers] / WIP
• KS-05 "Goliath Stampede" [2 Droids - Gigasmite and Lunarhem]

Equipment:

• Battle Form [Metamorphosed into X]
• Armor [Ceremonial / Helmet Removed]
• Weapon [Lodged in Ramparts]

Theme: Wolf and Moon [Flashback] | ULTRAnumb [Transformation and Tavlar Battle - Round 2] | Bloody Ether [Soldiers Attack]

​

The arm tears free. The man screams horrendously at the pain - an intoxicating sound. Yet the anti-power smoke continues to burrow its infested nest inside his body and he feels his muscles cramp and soul erode under its thickness. But he pushes on and meets the man's screaming roar of agony and defiance with his own war-cry, a sound that echoes far into the air. It is a war-cry of victory, of relief, and release of pent-up hate and despair.

But the Punished refuses to lay down in the muck, much to the chagrin and fury of the man under his weight. The Slayer's crushgaunt-fist suddenly grasps his skull and squeezes. Pain - searing pain - rushes in waves through the thick skull of the Devil whose war-cry turns into a wail of suffering. Is this it? Is this truly how he dies? Under the pressure of a glove? In that instant, the questions send the Devil's mind scouring back in time, far from the predicament he finds himself in during the present.

He is now in his home - childhood age - laced with a hue of colors out of space and the sounds of beasts beyond description just beyond its walls. His father doom-looms before him, a titan even to him. The Devil before the Devil - no, something beyond Devilry. A grand, inexplicable thing on a world of peasants and miscreants. He is a virtue and a blaspheme in one stone-like body, unbeatable and unkillable. Ageless and beyond time. He is everything Kascalion wants to be, everything he was born to be. Not a Devil, but not a God. Something above such labels. Something incredible - peaceful for his people and lustful for battle's blood.

"Kavar," he thunders from his gravel throat. "You are destined for great and terrible things. You are my successor, to lead our people and find a place in the universe. Conquer with your fist, and make peace with your words. You will have to do what you must to secure our legacy as a name to be remembered."

"I cannot father," he responds in a meek voice. "I have not the strength. I am weak. A dull, brittle sword."

"Then sharpen your edge and become strong."

Become strong.

Then there comes a sound from the Promethean facing punishment from the Punished. The Devil Slayer's visage - a horrific sight even to the insane - glaring down upon his foe that he so loathes. If not for his strengthened skull, Kascalion would have fallen already to this man. The sound is distant first in his chest, but it quickly grows into a castrophany that shakes the very ground beneath the combatants. It is distorted wailing - an electronic shrieking of torment unlocking its chains of monikers, lost identities, lost knowledge.

The blade sharpens and becomes strong.

The Devil's own visage melts away like greasy soup as a bright, non-spectrum color beginning to flash from his eyes that slowly grow in size. His hair falls from the top of his skull in clumps as his beard and what hair remains on the back of his head whitens. His face reshapes itself into something new, something old befitting a warrior-king. The armor breaks and chips as his body itself shifts and rises from the ground against the pressure enforced by the Punished. Horns burst free from his forehead, purple blood splattering across his now-light purple skin and the ground in rivets and rivers. He now stands free of lies and visage, statuesque on black-hoofed feet.

Here stands not just the Devil, not just the Promethean. Here stands Kascalion true. Here stands Kavar, Warrior-King.

A roar escapes his new throat as his new gaze meets the old defiance, the undying resisting willpower of the man the Devil now calls something he has never called any other. It is an old something, a term dead in the galaxy but popular in his tongue. "You fight for your love, doomed as she is. Rotten as she is. For this, you have earned a glorious death, Kæsu!" Nemesis. A term of utter contempt and utter respect, spoken with a booming laugh. For he alone deserves such emotions. The Devil Slayer. The God Defier. Irveric Tavlar.

Kascalion will move to break free from the man's grasp with a hard upward's strike to his forearm and a quick followup attempt to jab the man's windpipe. If successful enough to break free from his grasp, he will unleash a torrent of lightning upon the man, hoping to blind or in fact damage. It will not be cursed or life-sucking. No tricks or cheats anymore. Pure Force, a streak of purple electric cataclysm intended for destruction. He has doubts that it will be as effective as he wants it to be for the man opposing him has a deeper connection in the black hole outside the Force. An ironic sensitivity that he cannot sense. Is it for all Force Users that face him? Or just the Devil locked in a malignant ouroboros of violence with him? He does not know, but he will fight regardless. He will fight until his flesh molts and rots from his bones. Because that is what a Kæsu deserves. Nothing but the most inviolable hate and unalterable esteem.

He will fight because he must, and he will look his eternal foe in his shadowed gaze and he will give him the honor of the ultimate challenge. "Fight me, Kæsu! Fight me until you can no longer fight! Fight me as a fellow warrior! Fight for your love. For her. For Sweet Lyra. Fight! FIGHT. AND. DIE!"

The Argent Walkers' plan has worked thus far. Potshots, rapid-firing runs, grenade lobbing. Already, the Cognus Legion had neared a roughly ninety-percent increase in their closing in on the walls. All that was needed now was the mag-cannon to be destroyed and the Devil's army could finally move in on the ramparts.

The Argent Walker who had devised the plan, Sergeant Ripdus Grimaleus, moves like a wraith across the rocky landscape, a ghost in his thick armor. His cadre of soldiers chosen to follow him to the part of the wall directly underneath the emplacement of the mag-cannon move similarly, but are more focused on ensuring those on the walls are unable to gun down their leader. Those that do not find cover as quickly as their peers are reduced to mulch and mince, decorations for a field littered with countless dead. To the NIO, they are an endless plague of rats, all seeking to devour away the fresh meat of their rebellion. To themselves, they are glorious warriors seeking to bring an end to the disorder and disarray entrenched by this rabble of anarchists and insurgents.

Today, the end will begin here.

"Move! Move! Move!" Sergeant Ripdus shouts to his cadre, taking quick aim and quicker shots at those his men and women miss. "Keep close to the wall. Do not let that weapon lock onto you."

They follow his orders to the letter, practically hugging the structure like lovers. The Cognus, regaining their cohesion and showcasing their true prowess as soldiers of the Empire, do their part as well. Stangoar is revitalized, following orders and keeping suppression heavy on the emplacement's location. While her efforts are not without their effectiveness, she still loses more friends than she cares to admit. She curses the NIO, curses their Imperator, curses their beliefs, and curses her earlier weakness. And she, like the Devil she can no longer see, fights and fights. Because she has to. Because she must.

The Argent Walkers reach their position, but not before one of Ripdus' cadre takes a multitude of blasts to his head from the Ramparts - shielding his sister in front of him. He falls to the rocks, practically decapitated. The Walkers respond by unleashing an angered volley upon the individuals responsible before joining together to lob five thermal detonators and a single detonite charge onto the emplacements location.

Would it be enough to turn the tide? To finally allow those on the incline to reach the walls and begin the assault on Cassel Point proper?

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Valeria Ragal (Ingrid L’lerim)
The Red Witch; sorcerer, master spy, agent, assassin, sniper​

Location: HIMS Baleful, Space
Objective: Objective II - Anti-Boarding
Equipment: 2x vibroblade | Standard vibrosword with these look | 2x red blade lightsaber shoto | Tactical Turtleneck with this look | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | Stealth field generator | Holographic disguise matrix | G1 OmniLink | Actual look under the armor: link |
Allies: AMCO | Kiber Dorn | TSE and allies
Enemies: Lucien Dooku | LT-137 | Théodoro | NIO and allies

Background music:
Shiro Sagisu - Never Meant To Belong​

In the connection between the two of them Ingrid sent only a quick and brief feeling of gratitude to the man. No more was needed at this moment. But the moment Theo arrived, chaos broke out. Better than she hoped it could happen, it was precisely because of these that she preferred to be a sniper, and not to be in close combat. She was a sorcerer and assassin, but not necessarily the melee kind, but here she had to take care of Adrian's safety.

Her opponent immediately activated the shields, which in addition had a cortosis coating, probably only a few, because it did not cause a short circuit immediately, only a little later. Then she saw the other intervening man as well and she felt the ship sink. But she did not have time to deal with it, because the other man also attacked.

Accelerated her movement with the help of the Force, while "throwing" the two deactivated lightsaber hilts. So she turned incredibly fast and she moved so that she could fully protect Adrian, this could still only be seen by her lover and maybe Kiber. The way she tried to pull the man to herself, or if it failed to pull him out of the way before she hugged him, it was just enough for Khonsu's distruptor’s bullet to avoid them and slam into the back corridor wall. however, everything else hit Ingrid. She became visible at that moment.

She hugged the Sith Lord to protect him with her own body; but Ingrid didn't hug him like a bodyguard would. No, there was endless worry and care in this, everyone could see or feel clearly - in Adrian's case - only a woman in love protected someone in this way, even if Ingrid herself didn't realize yet she felt love for Adrian. She did not realize this just because Adrian was too similar like her husband, very, very much in everything.

First she felt the fire in her back and then the impact and explosion not far behind her due to the movement. The wind of the blast pushed her to Adrian even harder and she hugged the Sith Lord harder to cover him from the fire and the explosion, but not so much as to cause him pain. With the help of the Force she was able to stay on her feet, she felt the heat in her back as it attire melted and reached her skin, it hurt, but Ingrid just shook, didn't shout, or made a sound, she tried to stroking Adrian’s face, then she felt the punch on her back.

That was Khonsu’s other attack. She never felt as much pain as she did, Adrian could feel the woman's pain through a telepathic connection, just as Ingrid was worried about him, not herself. Her knees twitched, but she was able to stay on her feet. She felt the acid from the bullet begin to corrode her back, luckily Theo's flames burned the acid so it didn't do too much damage but it was still cruelly painful. She moaned and yanked Adrian and herself out of the remaining cloud of acid. She staggered.

She gathered all her strength and telekinetically tried to push Adrian back, she didn't want her lover to fly away, just enough to slip away, to a safe distance. As soon as there was no one to help her, Ingrid fell to her knees, she stood up, leaning on one of her swords, visibly trembling and trembling again thanks for pain. Tears stung her eyes but she made no sound. She looked up at Adrian, though he couldn't see her face because of the helmet. With “invisible hands” through the Force, touched the man's lips infinitely gently as if she had just kissed him.

”Run, I gain time for you to get out of here, don't try to die here on the ship!” she sent telepathically.

She then turned to the two men, so now Adrian could see what the other two had done so far. That the armor had disappeared from her back, her entire back and legs were also injured, it was full of burns and acid wounds. That only adrenaline can keep her on her feet, not even Ingrid knew how she was able to endure this without screaming. She is nauseous and dizzy because of the pain, but she knows something, that she doesn’t know how to give up something and that she wants to save Adrian.

She also pulled out her other vibrosword, she visibly trembled again, her knees also faltered, but she remained on her feet. The world also began to be obscured by pain, no, she couldn't lose consciousness while her lover was here and he wasn't safe. Through the telepathic connection, Adrian could feel Ingrid getting worse, even though she was visibly trying to cover it up and look tough.

To hell with the Empires, to hell with the mission! At that moment, only Adrian mattered to her. Meanwhile, Ingrid slowly realized how she felt about the Sith Lord as she worried about him. But no matter, there was no time for that. Though her back and legs cruelly hurt, she openly took an offensive stance against the two armored men in the middle of the corridor, this time meters ahead of Cyber and hopefully Adrian as well. Her voice also trembled with pain, but it still sounded cold and determined.

”I don't think we're done with each other yet!”

​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Borosk // Beyond Cassel Point - Abandoned Factory // JSTP
Rae // Ryv // Adriana Fortemps // Maynard Treicolt
My Friends​

All Loske ever wanted for those she loved was happiness. For them to feel fulfillment in this cyclical life –– anything that could get them there, she’d do.

Her willingness to adapt and accept often left her overexposed. She had to believe she was bigger than the contentious barriers that were normalized for friendships, like memories and history and expectations of references. Amea Virou ’d been her first test of how far she was willing to go for someone else’s peace; Loske had sacrificed the reminders of their history and ties for Kaili’s final chance to enjoy her life in ignorance of her legacy. She let go of the ability to reminisce on inside jokes, missions of the past, heartbreakingly vulnerable conversations she’d never be able to have again. Locked away in a vault of her own that nobody else shared the code to anymore.

Allyson had let Kaili go too. But not after trying earnestly to keep her within her clutches.

"Hey! It's not just me. I went out there and did my job - I did what I was ordered to do. I'm a good soldier."
"What happened with Bespin was out of my control. You think I wanted to forget?"
"She left me; I didn't know we were together - she never told me. What was I supposed to do?"
"She left me; she couldn't handle what was happening. I love --I loved her with every fiber of my being. I changed, I stopped flying, I stopped going to war. That war - with the First Order I couldn't say no, it was the last one. I was going to just give it all up. Everything that made me who I am, I was going to walk away from. For. Her. - Did she tell you that part?"
"She left me. Just left me. I was alone, so what was I supposed to do Loske. Tell me what I was supposed to do?"

Allyson had prioritized Kaili over the job. Over being a good soldier.

Ryv was no so fortunate.

Allyson had been anguished at the Talith abandoning her. Now here she was, abandoning her duty to The Alliance. The responsibility to come home. To be safe. To be with her friends. Her family.

She left me. Loske intoned those words, accepting them as her own perception and applying them to the friendship she’d cultivated with the woman who now stood against her in opposition. Her brows knit, and she adjusted the projection to materialize and shade Allyson’s mind: You’re leaving me. You’re leaving us. If she were more talented and influential, the implication would have dripped in a Corellian accent.

Through their mutual tether, a K’paur blessing turned curse, Loske could distinguish the remnant desires of the liar. The Corellian wanted this. There was a decisiveness to her action and inaction. Rae or Allyson, whoever she was right now, chose the job before she chose the love of the partner she’d promised to reinforce.

The understanding of this came at the cost of Loske hostessing Allyson within her own psyche. It was noisy in the Padawan’s mind. Having this shadow in addition to the constant tie back to Maynard and the timely cluster between Ryv and herself, too. Ryv's was the one that mattered right now, the one that kept her focused on this moment and if she prioritized her focus, suffocated the acknowledging awareness to the agent’s torment.

Allyson’s machinations saw that Loske’s cowboy attempt met no purchase and the rope snapped back into the suit’s vambrace. Instead, her golden blade activated to meet the afflicted extension of Rae’s in an angry bark, her onslaught remaining constrained while that storm brewed within her friend. Any entanglement she’d had with Allyson was defensively met and rendered useless, but the gestures kept the Corellian occupied after pushing the Echani away, just long enough for Ryv to harness the opportunity to strike at the Lord Inquisitor.

But not so much that it captured the liar’s full attention. Loske was shunned from the tangle while Rae snapped to attention to address Ryv, intercepting a blow that would have been the comeuppance the Inquisitor deserved.

In the time it took for the signal of physical, wrenching pain, to propagate from her enhanced senses down to her corresponding nerves where Ryv felt the cauterizing pierce of Rae’s blade, it was over.

Abject horror crippled Loske’s reflexes and she choked a gasp in reaction to the inherited impression on her skin, mind, and emotions. She didn’t know whose name to scream first. An angry cry at Allyson, how dare she! No, Rae..neither name slipped between her teeth. Ryv’s name never took shape and found sound either. There was only stunned silence. Allyson had attacked Ryv from behind; forged trust betrayed in an instant.

In that understanding, Loske realized happiness would have to have a hierarchy today and she couldn’t passively allow Allyson to choose one love over the other without recompense. That cycle had to be broken.

With a thin and anxious voice, she reached back out to Cassel Point: <Maynard, Ryv needs help. A medic and to get away from here.>

As much as she wanted to slide to Ryv’s reeling side, she wanted more to ensure no further harm came to him. Which meant either apprehending, killing, or driving away the beast and afflicted. A presentation of alternatives that would never come to fruition, falling instead to the bounding leap of the Jedi over her friend. Heels planted firmly in the ground while the first heavy swipe of her blade came down, followed hotly by a set of parries that would force Rae on the backfoot. Imbued strength and speed reinforced the delivery of unrecognizable hits; no pattern behind the barrage. The yellow saber’s pitch rising and falling as it cut through the air, clashing in successful sharp staccatos.

Within her, vexation burgeoned and erupted in a blossom of blue gossamer. A translucent bubble of a rolling barrier, decorated with remnants of electric sparks from Loske’s fury, that would upheave Rae and Jorryn from the ground and cast them far from their current foothold.

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

​

// Legion Commander Voi’kryt //
// Objective II : Take the HIMS Baleful Hangar
// Focus : Orion Darkstar
// Gear : Armor - Hand Of God - Melee - Rifle - Side Arm - 'Void' Grenades - 'Null' Grenades - Light Saber
// Company : Nineteen good men? More like fourteen good men now.. Theses like five men aren’t really that good..
// Thematic : Killing In The Name Of

---

---

Staring down the barrel of the pistol, she felt the tension roll over the soldiers of the ‘Fife’. There was only one way and it was forward. Lyra inhaled deeply through her nose, her shoulders rising and falling; form stilling. Her finger slid over the trigger as the last sparks of the burner sputtered along the door’s seam, an angry scorch line trailing from ceiling to floor. Heavy magnetic clips echoing as they clamped on to the blast door, the boarding team’s engineers traded looks with the firing squad before meeting her visor. The woman gave one curt nod from behind her helm, dropping her servo on the shoulder of the trooper at her side-steadying the man..steadying herself. The troopers surrounding her rolled and shifted anxiously with their weapons; hands tightening on the stocks of their rifles alike. The radar blinked steadily, warning of their enemies to come but the suffocating presence of the force told her far more beyond the steel.

The Sith and it’s pets, the nuisances..they were there in her mind's eye though faceless-another of the brainwashed masses though she was beginning to pick up upon the distinct echoes. This one did not carry the overwhelming claws that simply dredged upon her courtesy of her Master, nor the sheer maniac presence of the Inquisitor that she had brushed paths with. Foreboding though, it just served as another lesson. Caution screamed in the back of her mind, the rush before the drop racing through her; the needed adrenaline to survive.

Air began to hiss along the seam of the doors as the soldiers pried it apart, the slowly growing howl of the vacuum pouring in from the hall. The lights and circuity connected directly along the door flickering violently. She couldn’t see the Sith but she pulled the trigger, charric eating through the space as the squad opened fire; the snap of the pistol rolling through her hand. It was the only sign the troopers needed as a chorus of blaster fire opened on the gap, red bolts thrumming and screeching.

They could hardly be called living, Sith..just..slaves. Just like yourself..at some point the woman had stopped seeing the innocence at the edges of the field of battle, searching for a scrap of humanity. Such was the fate of many soldiers, the numbing effects of the violence. Perhaps it was the sheer domination now that fueled her to look past it. Gritting her teeth, two shots ringing out from her hand-after all the fight had become so black and white. Morality was dead. She didn’t see the men behind the helms, if they shot they could kill, and it was a simple task to put them down. They would serve as nothing beneath the boot of their Legion.

That was her mistake, in one hand she knew what a soldier had to be but she did not know her enemy in truth. Through the haze of fire they greeted the halls of the Baneful with blazing guns, Lyra felt the draw of power and her sixth sense warned her. There was a tilt under foot, a change of incline but she was consumed by the fray as the HIMS Baneful began it’s treacherous descent; a renewed wave of alarms passing over them.

None of them, not the poor soldier or herself possessed the speed to flee in the face of what was coming for them. The hair stood up on the back of her neck, electricity dancing through the air and her heart lurched. Lightning came, a brilliant shock of red in the graphite hangar, forking silently through the air and raining down upon them. The first trooper in it’s path falling-perishing, his life gone in a snap of a finger. The shrill and crackle dancing over the audio, a warning too late. Such happened in a blink of an eye and the damning arcs ate through several soldiers.

<<”Get ba-”>> any noise past that died in her throat, if only she could call for retreat.

The common man couldn’t survive that as the electricity jumping from the body like a live wire, her body trembled-remembering the kiss of sheer pain. Her foot sliding back, turning to rip the man in front of her back but the lighting branched to him and struck her. The screen of the HUD fizzled, the tech glitching-life lines dropping like flies and Lyra felt the searing white pain engulf her. Servo locking as the dronning hum of the coils sung at the pure energy.

Her words were ripped from her tongue. She was vaguely aware as her head snapped back under his palm as the electric shock burned and every sensor began to scream and overload. It encompassed her, overwhelmed and set her body on fire with pain. Her body seizing and thrashing, the absolute force he had wielded against her rained down upon her, grinding into the cement of the city with an ugly snap she was scre-eching, still trapped in the cartel hole.

Far from her control, from her mind and her body. The woman was wretched back like many others of the remaining team. Armor scraping and hitting the hangar floor with a heavy screech-scraping. Her back arched as her nerves burned, vitals skyrocketing through the glitching A.I. They all squirmed like ants under the torment. Slowly her eyes rolling into the back of her head as her vision sundered, she wasn’t staring at the docking floor-no it was the vivid blue skies of Borosk. Panic filtering through her, flailing. She wasn’t there, Avernus wasn’t standing over her, she wasn’t there.

He signs and in the blink of a half-second, he is in front of her, a monolith of bone and muscle and fear and tempered rage wrapped in black. She will feel the Force encircle around her like an iron rope, locking her in place. Unable to move yet cognizant of everything. He has the opportunity to kill her from the speed at which he moved and the trap he has placed upon her, but something stops him. A subtle energy around her - inside her that is locked away, but only slightly. A good push would unleash it from its rusted chains, whatever it is.

A sour miscalculation. Kascalion Giedfield face replaced the Pureblood’s and the world was cast in the magenta hues, stomach rolling-she was trying to gasp for breath; a scream bubbling. The noise was faint and strained. Shoulders jerking as she seized, foam bubbling at the corner of her mouth. The A.I through the powercell overcharging, seizing again. No, no, no.. Her vision doubled again and she saw troopers around her, their death a beacon in the wake of the pain before her mind was deceived. The foundry was on fire, the power works sparking and her willpower was rendered useless as the Lion stood above her cackling.

".. Free your fear. Free yourself.."

She howled with all her rage, vision alike passing over her. A holo reel blurring and Lyra clenched her servo-the whine of the coils buried into the machine growing. Her back was to the floor, and the woman didn’t know what to do but raise her hands. In the face of futility, the final bolt on the door cracked. Enough was enough and Lyra reached past the throes of confusion, the reeking fear. She had tasted the storm and it's excruciating burn for the last time. She grasped at the force and pushed back, through the power she gasped for air-limbs twitching and resisting but she could see the barrier grow under hand and the arcs bounded off the sheen. Molding the force under hand, she dragged her limbs up blindly until she was staggering to her feet before the view of the blast doors.

Though her vision swarmed she saw the shadow of the man but she could not charge him and hold the line; expanding. Shielding, those were her fucking men. Her psyche tricked her with the face of Kascalion Giedfield and not the armoment of Orion Darkstar as she held the barrier; even by sheer will the Force she drew upon threatened to falter. Her legs trembled and she felt weak in body, holding on through the throes of a storm. Trying to contain it, trying to redirect it away, the lightning ricochet.

“Kill him.” The cold lips pressed to her ear hissed, urging her to hunt-promising so much more that it reverberated through her skull.

..”Stop..”

<..”Stop..” >​

<<..”Stop..!”>>​

Mania passed over her like the tide, her vision descending into a tunnel and the woman’s gauntlet flew to her chest-ripping the saber from it’s clip. The crimson blade activated with one feel switch and she brought it guard above her head, the saber singing. Sybila thrusted her servo out channeling the power it collected. The words served as the only beacon upon the dark shores of the Force as she lurched forward with heavy footfall, desperate to maim and kill.

"..just do as I say...and stop. "

She wasn’t a good soldier. Irveric Tavlar was there in her peripheral vision. His words falling down like the swing of a hammer; judging and executing. Revile, his and her own mixed like oil and water. He despised her for this and it twisted in her gut as their glorious leader ordered her? The man she was supposed to of loved, he could go fuck himself. A dry laughter shook her as she threw herself toward the breach. It was suicide. If he wanted them to all perish so badly, she was only doing Irveric a favor by starting here.

".. stop. "

In one moment she was charging the Sithling blind in her rage, but a solid impact caught her side. Stealing her scant breath. A trooper, the Liuenteant with scorched blast plate and weaponless from the end of the line-one of the few troopers that still lived. The soldier tackled the woman with one graceless smack, sphere clutched in hand tossing out the flash bang between the dead and the Sith. A meager contigency, thrusters and all his weight put behind one shoulder bringing her to the ground-casting them aside. The pair rolling across the floor as the flash popped off with a shrill and deafening sound. The barrier she had summoned died with her concentration, the soldier’s voice ringing out-a haze over the fried audio.

<<”Stop! Commander, they're firing on the ship! We need to retreat!”>>

 

[Djorn Bline]

Location: Underground Complex; Cassel Point
Allies: The Sith Empire
Enemies: The New-Imperial Order | Hunter Blackburn
Objective: Sabotage

Caution was in every step they took in these tunnels of Cassel Point’s underground complex. Even the New Imperials in these caverns knew the cost and risk if they stepped out of line. This was one of those oddities in war, after all war was a place of survival of the fittest for both mind and body. Everyone wanted to live another day, and reach the idea and feeling of victory; but everyone doesn’t get what they want in the end.

Perhaps now by their nature, human or alien, they would be considerate of their surroundings and not be irresponsible with their actions; however, even Djorn knew if it came to it, someone would ignite those fuel tanks and cause a combustion reaction in these caves. All in the name of duty and victory.

Like a Maalraas in the jungles of Dxun, Djorn and his men would take every measure to avoid a draining firefight that would distract them from their main objective. Occasionally they would kill any squad that was insignificant to them, if the time permitted.

But now they would be forced to a fight when a beast came forth and made his presence known when he sliced through a friendly with a vibrosword. It was a man in Imperial armor, but the man looked like he was bred in a laboratory and conditioned to be the peak of human physique. Something that could topple men in unarmed combat, something Djorn wouldn’t conquer with his fists.

This was war and all is fair.

An electromagnetic pulse grenade was thrown at the monstrous man, with intentions of disabling the electronics of his suit to handicap him and place him in a disadvantage. All his armor would be just a bucket of plastic or metal shaped to his form. Djorn would then use his rifle and fire single bursts of blaster fire to the man, approaching him slowly as he pulled the trigger in rhythm.

“Flank him! And watch your distance, he’s just a man,” or a spawn from augmentation of technology and the Force. Djorn would do his best to keep the man focused on him while his compatriots would flank around Adrial and surround him. They would also have to watch their surroundings and make sure they weren’t being harassed from any hostiles.

Killing this beast would be a boost for morale for the operatives and help them hurdle through any obstacles that dare to confront them.

 

[AMCO]

Location: HIMS Baleful, en route to Borosk
Objective: Dispose of the boarders, seize Borosk, strangle the New Imperial supply lines.
Equipment: Viper Mk. I Skinsuit, SIB-14, & G1 OmniLink | Shield Talisman & [2] Jin'Pins | 4/4 Karza'Arana Darksworn
Writing With: Kiber Dorn | Ingrid L'lerim || LT-137 | Théodoro

The situation was deteriorating rapidly.

Klaxons wailing, vessel shuddering, and his companion hit by a veritable barrage of projectiles, Adrian was starting to get rather nervous; why did such encounters never go as planned, all he had intended to do was pin them down and let the ship's destruction end them.

Mental commands surging out to his bodyguards even before Ingrid shoved him backwards, the Sith Lord kept his telekinetic grip on the nameless Sun Guard, if only barely - was that... shit, that was the Supreme Sun Guardian himself. Most definitely not an opponent he wanted to face.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. You don't need to be able to run for my backup plan to work."

Keeping the Sun Guard suspended between himself and Amon was a temporary solution, at best - fortunately, Adrian didn't intend to stay long. Drawing on inner reserves of power and the dark side energies radiating from the Conduit, he propelled the man towards his superior with every bit of force he could muster, smiling coldly as a wounded Karza'Arana rounded the corner in defence of its lord and master...

... a smile that faded when he realized the others were pinned down or dying. Bloody hell, the Sun Guard didn't mess around.

"Keep them back - whatever it takes." Trusting that the Conduit would get it done - or at the very least that the other, more expendable, Sithspawn would keep its body between them and danger until its body was no more - Adrian drew in more power yet, fingers tracing intricate patterns in the air even as his left hand pulled a strange talisman from an inner pocket.

"With the beating the ship's taking, I don't want to risk a long run, especially in your condition - we're briefly diving into the Nether, cheers."

 

[Ra Vizsla]

COMMANDER VIZSLA

| Image by @Khonsu |


// IRON_FURNACE // IN SUPPORT OF // NIO DROP
// GARRISON COHESION //: Mandalorian
// OBJECTIVE //: HIMS BANEFUL
ALLIES | NIO | SONS OF MANDALORE | Careena Fett
ENEMIES | TSE | Darth Prazutis

Ra shrugged in the face of his adversaries.



"I am who I am.

I am who I have always been.

​

I am who I will always become.

​

I have appeared a thousand times before,


and I will appear a thousand times hence.



My name is Mand'alor,



Let those who would challenge the mantle,

bring forth the wrath of my people."​

The white wisp of wolf cloaked dropped to the ground, as the 403rd Stormtrooper Legion and the former Mand'alor sprung into action, Ra leaping across the hallway to engage the first Gurlanin clone. This Ra, this man, was much more agile and hardy than his former self. Crimson streaks accented by the dark void of the Darkblade echoed across the hall as the Mando'ade struck the first blow in the battle against his opponents, slicing his way down the hall.

Overwhelmed by an obviously superior Mandalorian force, the Stormtroopers would have their work cut out for them. Blaster bolts ranged out around Ra, attempting to hold a majority of the Gurlanin clones at bay so Ra could engage in mostly a singular fashion with the warriors. The display was of melee ferocity that most of the Legion knew they could not sustain themselves - no, this was a battle for Ra, and Ra alone to handle.

They would try their best, however, to allow the former Mand'alor his duels unimpeded by intrigue and decadence.

"PRETENDERS,"

Ra roared, slashing wide to force the Vizsla clones backwards.

"ABBERATIONS OF DARKNESS."

He stepped forth, closer to the dark clutches of the Sithly villain.

Another slash into the hallway.

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

// OUTRIDER //: Commander //: Galactic Alliance
// OBJECTIVE //: Cassel Point | Simp for Ryv, Splash Brother Shit
// ALLIES | NIO //: Loske Treicolt | Ryv | Ghost Bro Lanik Dawnstar
// ENEMIES | TSE //: Adriana Fortemps | Rae
Armor | Lightsaber

​

M A Y N A R D _ T R E I C O L T
W I N G S

“Maynard, you are never truly alone so long as you have the force. So long as you put your faith in it. Open yourself to the force, feel what's around you. Feel Loske and Ryv, feel the numerous others that fight alongside you against the tyranny of the Sith. No matter the physical distance they are with you. Not even death can truly take them from you.”

“You have all the strength you need.”

He was right. If only he'd had this wisdom to spare for him when he was among the living. Lanik might as well had been the elder brother he never had, the guiding hand in an existence of suffering, peril, death, pain. Maynard had too often let those feelings of the darkness, those primal authorities dictate his actions. Control him, manipulate him. And in the same span he'd forgotten that one constant. That one intangible tether from his mind so infantile in its struggles bonded to this mortal flesh, this guise of skin and bone. It'd been with him all along, when nothing else had ever been so consistent to now. What was he to claim himself so divergent from its caress?

No. He was selfish, shortsighted and foolish to so doggedly pull himself down as he looked beside him to see him in rank with strangers. Men and women who'd fought under a different flag, cut from a different cloth. All the same, he was with them. He was not alone as much as he'd ever thought. Loske, Ryv, Allyson, Lanik all fought within him all the same. He'd do better to listen rather than continue a death match trying to shoulder all the blame. He knew this from seeing Ryv do it all the same, even if he and Loske both scolded him for it only to pile the burden all the same. He'd do better to listen. Listen to those who came before. Those passionate spirits who'd always cared about him, they'd never left him.

"Maynard...you- you are-."

"You are a good man- you will be...a good jedi. I know it to be true- you...- you just need to believe in yourself and...most imp-"

"You must believe in the force, Maynard."

With a harsh cut the buzz of his cobalt blade streamed through Sith duaplast and seared the flesh beneath to render another Legionnaire lifeless as he took in a heavy breath, breathing in the stale air of ash, fire, smoke and death around him all the while he took in Lanik's sage wisdom and the words of those he was far too willing to so easily abandon in his moments of weakness.

"I know. You're right, Lanik." Maynard said, his eyes opening again before he pulled in another breath of air. He could feel those memories cloistered into his most isolated moments of suffering returning him not as an attempt to weaken him again, to draw him to his knees in hopeless wallowing like that scared boy on Concord Dawn. Instead they were here to temper his resolve. All lessons learned, all paths crossed and conquered. He realized again then that it was all apart of him. The memories, those he'd lost. They didn't ever weaken him, they were a testament to his resolve. He continued to survive in spite, a living ode to persistence and reliability to which Maynard had ensured himself a better ally than he could ever ask for.

"They're...they're with me. Now. Just like you are...just like they've always been. I'm sorry, Lanik. I wish- I really wish I could've been there for you when...when you needed me, needed anyone at all. I'm sorry I couldn't...but to have you with me now. I- I'll do good by you, do good by them...by everyone." Maynard said, sucking in another shuddered breath as he screwed his eyes shut, welling with tears before one began to stream down his cheek to distort the splatter of blood which marked his skin.

Marching onward into the breach he'd encountered another. Donning that same shell of the Juggernaut again, another knight of the Sith sought to take its mark in Treicolt. Bloodied and worn down, his endurance tested by the battle, the Jedi seemed easy prey.

<"Jedi!"> The Sith barked out at him before he leaped forward, the crimson blade being met with a well timed clash of cobalt. Filtered over the voice barking at him now, he heard a far too familiar and far too despicable tone overlaid onto it.

"The Jedi!"

All too much the same. He felt that memory unsheathe and stab into his subconscious like a heated dagger. Like it always had. But he lived in defiance of the scared boy from that day. He'd lived in defiance ever since. Of the boy who cowered down unfurled his anger unfettered. He was weaker then, weaker in his resolve. He couldn't let himself fall to these same tricks only to be bloodied all the same as he was on Muunilinst.

“I didn’t want it to happen again. I know you’d do anything and you’re always there."

"That’s why I wanted to keep you away.”

“So you wouldn’t have to turn that part of you on.”

He could feel it again. Metal had hit ember again and he was tested. He'd let the darkness rule over him before and in the end? Suffering. It was always far more tempting, it was always far easier. Maynard was stronger than that now.

Those golden eyes of death and searing hatred which fired its haunting gaze to Maynard again were met with the hazel stoicism of the Jedi. There wasn't rage there any more, only a cold focus. Feeling the presence in the force of Lanik still looming over him he wouldn't dare dread down the easy path again. The force...was with him, as it always had been.

<"You'll die!"> Another guttural taunt wrapped in vitriol sounded out toward Maynard as the Sith streamed his blade and along and down Maynard's before pulling the saber away, reeling back before pulling forward again with a lung of the crimson saber toward his collar bone only for the Jedi to meet it with his own blade and stave it off course only to leave the Sith Warrior's guard stricken down, his splayed open for a counter attack from the Jedi who'd twisted his wrists and pulled the blade down before cutting upward through the Sith's chest, the metal of his armor pulled right in two with a grievous glowing wound of the metal marking proof of purchase to Maynard's strike. And all the same, the rage in the Sith's eyes snapped so quickly to the mortal fear of death and finality before his body collapsed and trembled to the bloodied dirt beneath.

He couldn't do wrong by her. He couldn't do wrong by all of them by having to delve into that darkness again. The Sith had already gone on to assault him with a burning rage. All he had to do was make sure the fire inside him burned brighter than the fires around him. He continued his assault as the armored detachment continued its battle with the Sith force continued to pile against the fortress in its dogged assault.

The mailed first had continued its punch but among the slog, the infantry, Maynard continued to try his hand at leading them onward. They'd lost ground but there was no peace in living on their knees, living a subjugate to the Sith. They had to continue to fight even as each passing moment blended back into the last. Another Sith trooper struck down before an acolyte interrupted his onward march, only to feel the plasmatic heat of Maynard's cobalt saber all the same only due in part to the Stormtroopers at his flanks who'd rip down all the enemies around them with blaster fire.

Eventually, he was drawn back into the cruel lucidity from the calming trance he'd buried himself in despite the rage of war around him. Any other voice might not have done it. But it was her, Loske. The fact it was willed from her was enough, but her tone, her inflection, her distress demanded his attention away from the fray as he held his vambrace up to hear the command more clearly.

<Maynard, Ryv needs help. A medic and to get away from here.>

<"I- hold on."> Was all Maynard could spare before he'd swapped the comms to consult with another reassuring spirit. His lone kin, his cousin and as of now, his commander in Waylon.

<"Waylon...my friends they- one of them's hurt. They need my help but I don't want to leave you here. We're- I don't want to abandon you and your men."> He voiced out to his commander, his voice strained again in distress. The brief moments of silence over the comms were grueling, his stomach turning at each passing moment.

Finally, the comms crackled to life again.

<"...I hope this isn't you asking for permission...because I know you're not going to let them down, Maynard."> Waylon said aboard his Cataphract, clenching his teeth as he felt a bolt careen from a Sith-Imperial heavy laser cannon into the front slope of the hull to his tank.

<"Go."> He mustered in reassurance to the Jedi.

"Sergeant! Can your men hold this point?" Maynard said, grabbing the attention of an NCO donning the markings of the 501st, one of the Imperator's own.

<"Yes, commander."> He sounded off before aiming down the sights of his particle beam blaster to land a pulse of three down range into the center mass of a Sith Legionnaire. It was time to go. Pressing the ignition of his saber the cobalt blade was snuffed out from the open air. It was then he began to run. Not in fear, not in cowardice but of sheer determination. Missiles slaughtered the earth around him as blaster bolts zipped by his ears or snapped against the cobalt blade as he passed in. The garrison, the stormtroopers all needed him here, to fight at their side. He didn't want to leave them.

But in the end...Ryv would do whatever it took to save him. He had to make due on that. He isolated everything aside from his breathing, his body. The madness around him drowned into nothingness as he pressed on past his physical limits, his mortal endurance.

Finally he'd reached one of the hangar bays, the door prying open only for the foreboding sight of a Goliath Stampede slamming a stormtrooper's skull into the durasteel flooring beneath jostled him from his force laden trance again. The crack of bone and squelch of flesh paving way for a jarring return to reality as he drew his cobalt blade again, the plasmatic saber crackling in the air again. In the shadow of his venue to escape in a New Imperial shuttle he had to face down of the machinations of The Devil.

It began its lumbering pace before firing out a volley of micro missiles from its lower arms toward the Jedi. A deft roll from the deluge of ordinance managed to have the Jedi avoid it until he was back on his feet again with his saber held diagonally out toward the droid who'd let two of its retractable vibroblades loose from its armor, swinging them both in an assault of blade against blade. One of them lunged and made purchase into the armor protecting Maynard's abdomen, the Jedi offering up a low groan of pain before surged back, ripping an ion grenade from his belt and jolting it down, throwing it against the floor between him and the droid only for it to bounce up and explode near the Goliath's chest, sending the ion pulse wave through its synthetic form, seizing it before him.

Pressing the advantage he moved inline with the attack to thrust his cobalt blade through the thinner center section of its form before twisting and pushing the blade through its side until it hit open air again, the beast of a droid collapsing before him. Screwing his eyes shut as he swallowed down heavy breathes he centered himself again before disengaging the lightsaber and making way toward the shuttle. Willing the boarding ramp open with a press of a button he rushed through the crew cabin to the cockpit and sat down to grasp ahold of the controls.

Like any other vessel of standard Galactic make, it was a seamless process to gather his bearings of the ship. With that he was off. It was a brief flight but even still, through the Force, that intangible tether that bound all of them, Maynard spoke to Ryv.

>Hang in there...< He'd said, hoping to offer some reassurance as he stared down the HUD projected over the canopy with focused vision, past the blood, the sweat, the tears.

It wasn't far off that the New Imperial shuttle landed from the complex the Jedi parlayed with their lost friend and companion and her Sith lover. The one she'd betrayed them all for. But Maynard didn't give a damn about Allyson or any of them. As soon as he looked to Ryv, the Sword of The Jedi collapsed against a wall. His hand severed, his scalp bloodied, his eyes drained of all life, all will to live amidst a pale guise.

"Ryv! Cmon...stay with me now...it's alright...it's gonna be alright. I'm with you." Maynard let out as he came down and curled his arms under the Kiffar, taking him up off the ground and into his grip, clutching the Sword of The Jedi close to him as he turned to move away from the sound of the crack and clash of sabers.

>I'm sorry I can't be with you...but he needs help.< He said to Loske as he clammored to climb back aboard the shuttle through shuttered breaths, clutching Ryv's head close to him as he appraised the wound past his own bloodied guise. It was in part the physical damage and another...a knife to the spirit that left that coldness. Ryv had a more tenacious will than this, than to die here, now. Maynard knew it. Setting the Jedi down unto retractable table he'd pulled from the wall of the shuttle's crew cabin Maynard hovered his hands over the Kiffar, hopeless. He could heal, he'd done it before...to Loske, on Muunilist but it took both of them to will it.

Together, again.

 

[Careena Fett]

[ Theme ]​

C a r e e n a _ F e t t

| Location | Aboard the HIMS Baneful​

| Objective | Sabotage Engine Systems​

| Company | Ra Vizsla / Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt / NIO Boarders / 12x Mandalorian Warriors​

| Hostiles | Lark / Orion Darkstar ​

​

The Sith Imperials were reluctant to enter their line of fire-based off their unwillingness to come out into the open. A wise decision on their part as throwing themselves out into the open would have been a death sentence against the expert marksmanship of Careena and her in cover warriors. A weapon would peak out from around the corner. It only took a split second for her to realize where it was targeting as she instinctively moved to step in front of her slicer to shield them. She braced and raised her arms up to do her best to cover her vitals for the incoming hail of blaster bolts as Lark telekinetically pulled the trigger. ​

​

The sound of blaster fire erupted and filled the hall. Careena expected and braced for death, as their mission came before the life of any one individual. The sound of blaster bolts striking beskar'gam filled the corridor, but to Careena's momentary surprise it was not against her own. She looked up to see a burly Viszla warrior having taken up position to shield both Careena and the slicer, taking the brunt of the blaster bolts that managed to slip past his shields and impacted against him. Careena would lunge forward as she held her fellow brother in arms up, speaking harshly, <<" You fool! Why? ">> The Viszla let out a raspy and dry laugh, <<" For our people. Use me as your shield. ">> The man's head would slump forward as the last of his life was soon extinguished. Careena let out a frustrated scowl as she propped the giant of a man's lifeless body up, using his beskar'gam as cover to protect the life of their slicer.​

​

She'd glance over to a female warrior off to her right and a man on her left, giving a nod before speaking in Mando'a as she kept herself calm and collected, " A'den gaanaylir. " The woman and manwould nod as she acknowledged the coded maneuver. A'den Gaanaylir, roughly translating to Wrath Catch was a defensive maneuver that also doubled as an offensive one. ​

​

The female Mandalorian would reach behind their back as they grabbed two dampener aerosol canisters, one in each hand before tossing them out towards the corridor. The gas canisters would roll past the farthest Mandalorians and between the two opposing forces, exploding into twin clouds of blue-tinted gas that would reduce the effectiveness of blasters fired through them while also obscuring line of sight.​

​

The man to Careena's left would reach back behind him as he also grabbed a pair of round objects. They were IL-62G Smart Grenades added to their arsenal thanks to the New Imperial Order, and quite deadly devices. The two deathballs would be rolled forward, using the cover of the aerosol gas to mask their approach, ready to unleash targeted laser fire the moment they came into view of hostiles. If the enemy would not budge from their cover, then they would force them to either retreat or charge through the gas into melee range where a majority of her companions thrived. ​

​

Fifteen seconds...​

 

[Amur]

Post: 4
Location: Cassel Point
Faction Objective: Obj 1: Eliminate NIO Force holding the facility
Allies: Kalanda Tishire any TSE forces nearby
Enemies: Vora Kaar Darth Vinaze Vaeri NIO Forces nearby
Gear: Listed in Character Bio
Currently: Fighting a few brooding Sith and a Jedi

Amur grimaced frustrated that her push failed to bear fruit the way she initially intended. Yet in a way it would work out quite differently as she could feel the air begin to change around them as the Sith lord began to finally take note of their presence. Instinctively Amur’s muscles began to stiffen and tense, her eyes drawing a laser focus on the masked man. Raising her saber up to her chest before it fell down to her side in an opening stance, the saber pointing downward.

She felt Vora’s hatred explode out in anguish as it surged and washed over her like a tidal wave. The Sith had revealed his true self to everyone in the room. That out current may have meant to ensnare her, to wrap her up in fear, and make her doubt but for Amur she could find one feeling bubbling up to her. Disgust. His rage languished out like a pathetic feral dog, so eager to throw it around haphazardly at a source that it would eagerly abandon the periphery of it’s situation. Yet at the same time it tasted familiar. Was this what she was like when she abandoned all sense to throw herself at the Gen’dai Rive?

A crushed and lost arm was the price she was forced to pay for that sin, now she was going to see to it that this Sith lord would be made to pay the same price, and feel the same shame she was forced to live with. She would see to make sure this feral animal would be neutered. To think how quick it was for him to give in to his rage.

All it took was a little, push...

PATHETIC​

The blade came downward towards Amur, a quick movement of her arm upward as it swung out in a clockwise circle would catch his blade and redirect its course to her right, missing her, and cleaving into the ground. A back step with her left leg would bring her into an ideal stance as she raised her arm up and flipped her hand downwards to catch the backhanded swing that was careening towards her. Vora’s saber eager to catch flesh but failing to make purchase. Amur’s eyes seeing the movement in the background of the Jedi trying to catch and keep up with their current duel. If adrenaline wasn’t coursing through every fiber of her being and her focus and reflexes weren’t being tested so thoroughly there would have been a righteous smirk underneath the helmet.

A furious uppercut swing came towards the one armed Sith forcing her to backstep quickly as the blade narrowly missed her armor, a few centimeters between life and death. Vora trying to gain and hold onto every single millimeter of ground he took advancing towards Amur. Vora was carrying his momentum from the uppercut to launch an elbow towards Amur. The Scorched knight latching onto a snap second opportunity.

Ducking her head and body down his elbow would pass over her head as Amur spun and moved forward to her left in a 45 degree angle, changing her line so that she was now flanking Vora to his right, and the Jedi would have a cleaner attack towards his back. Seeing the flurry of crackling red coming towards her from Vora’s left sided swing she would raise her saber and flip her hand so her saber would point downwards as it caught Vora’s now extended swing, the blades would lock together forcing the two to face each other helmet to helmet.

Amur’s right arm was crying out as it was forced to act as a shock absorber and take the force of Vora's aggressive swings but the pain was now only emboldening the Sith as she pressed her weight forward to keep the lock. Apparently Amur now had his undivided attention… perfect.

”So eager to blind yourself with that rage, you’re more a slave then sith.” She goaded Vora trying to take the raging furnace that was his anger going with fresh fuel. Now being his prime target would likely be the best case, especially as it now would give the Jedi a chance to weaken him. There was another thing too that was giving the Sith ease of mind with this plan. All the attention on her would keep their eyes off Kalanda, and in doing so kept her safe.

If Vora decided to disengage from the saber lock to address the attacks coming to him from Vaeri, Amur would back off to let him get into a saber lock with Vaeri, and allow her strikes to go through unabated to keep Vora under pressure. Once Vaeri was finished Amur would thrust forwards to Vora with a stab aimed at his abdomen or lower back depending on what side of Vora was facing her. Followed up by pulling back her thrust and a quick twirl of her wrist and arm to try and get a fast swing at one of his legs.

Though she kept in the mind the fact that the Jedi could turn on her at any moment though at the same time there was something else in her mind. The fact that Kalanda was with her. A small voice knowing that she would come to her aid if anything would go awry. It made it that much easier to put her all into a fight like this. And a pressure to keep her end of this partnership up.