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

[Irveric Tavlar]

// IMPERATOR //: 501st Legion
// OBJECTIVE //: Cassel Point | The Ramparts
// 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

<"On the ramparts! Now! I want a Reaper set down and hitting those fu-"> The NCO's life snuffed out in an unscheduled pause to the symphony of death and destruction which enveloped Cassel Point. Whatever this Trooper did in life, he died all the same. Limp and lifeless, his body clad in the argent and cobal duraplast plates collapsing to the metal surface beneath with that haunting 'thunk'. All in the classic implementation of decentralized command, it was next man up with another trooper barking out the orders to the cascading rhythm of blaster, concussive and flechette fire all acting as accenting notes to the gut twisting explosions sounding out around them.

On that position, a Reaper Chaincannon was mounted against the edge of the duracrete wall, a honed kill taking aim down the sights toward the black and green of Cognus as they grew larger and larger in his view. His hands jostled for a moment before he squeezed his thumbs down unto the the triggers of the heavy weapon. Snapping at the air in silence around the nine rotating barrels it began to spin in foreboding calmness for a split second before it pried open the marble jaws of oblivion and unfurled its devestating array of anti-infantry slaughter as golden particle beams spat out the business end of the chaincannon to a chorus of depravingly satisfying clips and thumps against the duraplast chest plating of the approaching troopers unfortunate enough to peek far too much of their mortal shells from their makeshift cover. Each impact blasting superheated energy on impact and splashing it against the armor plating until it eroded to a charred crisp.

<"Imperator! I spot Cognus!"> A Stormtrooper Corporal shouted down the line to Irveric Tavlar who was upright well behind them, pulling and wrenching the scattered and disorientated 908th Troopers into a position of use. Or at the very least, where they blasters were angled down range toward something moving and looking to hurt them. Surrounding himself only with the 501st Legion and the 12th Armored he forgot all about this. He'd been through and out of the fire with those men and women. These poor souls here were green. They'd never seen any of this before. Not outside of the clinical, sterile and completely scripted and controlled simulations of Sith and New Imperial academies. It certainly helped but it couldn't hold a candle to the dark, grim, bloody, disgusting, rotten and despicable reality of warfare. There was no simulating any of that. Maybe the basic instincts, move and shoot. But not everything else.

As soon as he heard it was the sons of The Devil, Irveric's gaze beneath his Enigma-pattern helmet narrowed before he sucked in a breath of anticipation. His 501st gunned them down like limp dogs on Velmor. All the while, the Sovereign Imperator struck down Giedfield in single combat. He'd 'killed' him, heard the bones crack and blood spurt when he wrenched that head clean from its body in the midsts of ash and smoke. The precarious subjugation of JanFathal all but indicated he'd returned with an inner fire boiling with hatred toward these rebels. The 'True' Imperials as most of them seemed to deem themselves. In spite of the geopolitical terminology, they weren't new at all. Not most of them. They had been around as long as any of the men they were gunning down on the other side of the blasters were now. But they weren't the chattel to Sith Lords who tugged and wrenched them around like bought property. Even if Carnifex or any of these other Sith Lords had seen the field alongside their men, they couldn't claim the fraction of common ground with their hosts as Irveric could with his. He'd seen all they had through the same eyes.

<"Good."> Irveric stated outright. If the encounter between The Punished and The Devil followed anything according to their last, the Sovereign Imperator may very well be able to snuff this beast out and cut him down for good. For now, the Imperator's Fist would hold the line. Two troopers began to mount a magcannon to the rampart, taking aim for hard targets on the approach toward the fortress. He'd be here if Cognus broke through the lines.

Waiting.

Waiting to end it.

P A G E C L A I M​

 

[Aerith Krayt]

Location: Cassel Point
Allies: NIO
Enemies: Sith Lirka Ka
Gear: In Bio

One thing she loved about her implants, was that she didn't get tired like she used to back in the day. Her bones would ache, there would be a dull thud in her skull, but she always felt alive and wide awake.

But what really got her heart going, was the onslaught that poured towards the base. It was beautiful. Absolutely fething fantastic. It was like watching a swarm of ants rushing to cover a still squirming serpent. So many bastards to kill, but a limited supply of ammo. Her right eye flipped from blue to red, as it's targeting device took over; trajectories and hit percentages began to fill her vision as her lined up her line of fire. Then she witnessed the biggest, most graceful killing machine to grace the fields of combat.

Was that a war droid? She couldn't tell, but it was large and in charge, hacking and slashing it's way across the field, with a blade long enough to cut a squad in tow.

It was love at first sight.

Pulling back on safety switch, Aerith was practically giddy as she set her sights on the mech ( Lirka Ka ), and opened fire. "Come to ma'ma!" She hollered, opening a wave of fire towards the war mech, not fully understanding what she was firing at, but knowing it had to be a threat. Her rounds torn through a patch of Sith troopers, cutting them to ribbons, sending bits of blood and bone spraying about the place. She stood up, welcoming them to target her, wanting them to try and take her down as she continued to unload. She wasn't flesh and blood, she was just pure processed steel, with a touch of heart.

Was she going to die today? If so, she was going to make it one for the record books. She sure as hell wasn't going back to being a slave.

Lirka Ka

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

// OUTRIDER //: Commander //: Galactic Alliance
// OBJECTIVE //: Cassel Point
// ALLIES | NIO //: Vaeri
// ENEMIES | TSE //: The Sith Empire
Armor | Lightsaber

​

F L A S H B A C K
Sometime before...
Loske Treicolt

It was a difficult task. They'd sworn to each other. Not again. They wouldn't dare lurch into the fray isolated. Not again. They wouldn't allow the fate of the other to rest in anyone else. Not again. Muunilinst tested their strength separated from the intangible but deeply rooted bond they'd crafted between the other after so much time together in the fire, the toil. Now here they were, instantly moving to sever that mutual promise. Even after they'd never let duty separate them, even after Maynard continually swore by that mantra he uttered to her on Muunilinst.

>Again...together.<

Foolish as they were, they'd set the pieces to be broken again. Because duty demanded it. Were it not for Loske treading the same path as the Sword of The Jedi, to take back their friend and comrade in Allyson Locke from her feverish exile. Because duty demanded it. Time and time again these Jedi were pulled and raked through the mud, through the fire and ash. Because duty demanded it. As much as Maynard postured to understand it, to be resolute in his obligation to the New Jedi Order and the Alliance he could only fear that either of them...both of them could break down into what they feared occuring again from Muunilinst. And if that happened they'd only strain them again, force them into a dilemma of their duty.

“You’re right. We’ll keep going. We’ll do better than we did on Muunilinst. Better than ever before. I'd follow you into anything, anywhere.

But when it gets too much, if I ever see that...you like that again, I’m going to tell you I want out. And I'll beg for it. I don't care. I want to walk away. With you, toward something better and worth focusing on. Together.”

They swore to be better. Not to go without the other. And here they were, primed to abandoned the other again.

Because duty demanded it.

“I love you.”

"I know." Was all he could mutter, all but mouthing his own reassurance of shared sentiment when he eased into that kiss before soon enough his scarred visage was replaced by the helmet of the armor fusing the Mandalorian roots with the Jedi present. He'd look into those sweet blue eyes one last time baring the mask that only those in the throes of battle would ever see. Behind it, he could only hope to calcify the emotions which raked him down beneath. That fear, that anger.

After she'd turned to leave, Maynard shared a word with his cousin beneath a different banner.

<"You've got yourself a hell of a lady, you know that Maynard?"> Konrad Bolter said, all but concealing a grin as he looked to his younger cousin. They were born to a house of a pitiful origins. From the outskirt backwoods of the Mandalorian world of Concord Dawn, long put to the torch by the very Empire they marched out to fight again.

<"Yeah...I still even wonder how the hell I ended up with her. Not sure I deserve Loske, if I'm honest with you."> Maynard said, unfurling a belief he'd held close to the vest, tightly to his heart ever since himself and the Kiffar had sounded out those three worn words to the other in candid admission.

<"What? You've never realized how stupid you sound when you put yourself down like that have you? Because...hell, you're a hero. You know...all these years you know how I know you and her make all the damn sense in the world? Because I know you don't give up. Whatever the hell you think you are, you're tough, persistent. I- I didn't know what happened to you, when the Sith took home and we split on off. Seeing you as you are now? That tells me all I needed to know. That you got that spirit, that intangible. You put your mind to it, you can conquer it. I just know it. I love you, Maynard. And...and you're most of what I got left. This is gonna be tough but I'll be damned if I don't get you back to her. Because you deserve her and she damn well deserves you. That's a promise."> Waylon sounded out, determined before he stepped forward to pull his younger wayward cousin into a tight embrace.

<"Now cmon...if there's one thing I know that you know you can do...its kick some Sith in the fucking teeth."> The Tank Commander sounds out before he smacks the side of Maynard's helmet, forcing a grin from the younger Concordian.

O U T R I D E R
R E T R O G R A D E

“When you first came to Hope I didn’t know what to expect of you. But you have a strength, a conviction, and you need to fight for it. Do not fear what you are, who you are, and do not fear what lay inside. Don’t let anger and rage take over in the darkest of times. Do not let fear of loss guide you. They can not fight the dark, only love can do that. And I know you have plenty of it.”

He had no choice but to abide by the Jedi Knight's sentiment in becoming one with the force. Alone. Even in his years of fleeting isolation, he'd never felt so alone as he did now. Then, it was a visage of a faux strength. Each time he'd grown attached, the tether snapped cleanly and broke before him.

He'd swore he'd never make that mistake again. That mistake of attachment. A Jedi again, he'd buried himself in unlearned lessons. Or maybe he'd just forsaken any belief that he would tread that path alone any more. Doubted himself. Until now, he'd had one of his friends at his side at the very least. When Ryv had been captured by the Sith Empire, he had Loske. When Loske had been shipped back to the Core to nurse her nigh fatal injuries, Ryv fought by his side. Now, he had none of them. Not even Din Marren to ground him down from that coldness he'd adopted in war. That false mask he used in line with his armor to filter him out from the carnage. Alone, in the fire. Lurching into the fray again, it was a inevitable cross with his faltering emotions. His doubt.

But there was no one to lean on now. And there was far too little a margin of error to let those emotions dictate him. Not again. Not now. His helmet had been shattered when an explosion ruptured a section of the wall, forcing a breach. His metallic gaze fortified and concealing those mortal eyes beneath had shattered. Just like what had him infatuated with the control sticks of a starfighter, there was no filter between him and the brutalist reality.

His gaze drenched in blood, his cobalt blade slicing and cutting through the advancing Sith ranks, those hazel eyes froze over. Admist ranks of argent and heavy metal he surged to intercept a Sith Acolyte who'd locked his crimson saber with the blade of Vaeri . Cutting his saber down the unguarded forearm held out in the match of wills the Sith let off a pained groan as he clutched his teeth in boiling anger, shifting his gaze toward Outrider who retorted with a slice of the shimmering blue blade through the throat of the Sith, snuffing that despicable spirit from this mortal realm with a single blow. His eyes shifted to the Jedi for a moment before he pressed forward.

Because duty demanded it.

 

[Adriana Fortemps]

// Lord Inquisitor Fordyce //
// Borosk //
// Get the Girl //
// Perfect //
// Loske Treicolt // Allyson Locke // Ryv //

" I hope it doesn’t have to only stay a dream, Inquisitor. "
​

The words hung in the air around the Echani, even as the half-built fortress grew bigger in front of her. Cassel Point was the objective, somewhere that the Sith Empire could return everything that the New Imperial Order had done to them. It was an opportunity for revenge against the traitors of the New Empire, but why could she not feel any desire to capture it. Jorryn was Lord Inquisitor now, her duties to the Sith were all that were supposed to matter to her, the results of the war needed to intermingle with her own emotions. That was the nature of her new role in the Sith.

But she didn't care.

Her teeth nervously met the nail on her thumb, the frustration of her situation getting the better of the woman as the pit in her stomach grew bigger. As much as one would think the ever-looming figure of Cassel Point would be to blame, the truth didn't lay in that path of logic at all. Jorryn knew what was distracting her the entire time.

" Is there a way I don't have to leave. "
​

A pitiful look took over the Lord Inquisitor's face, the permission she granted her lo... attendant wasn't granted easily. Not during this war. But Rae always had somewhere she needed to be, a fiery and free flame that demanded not to be smothered by anything or anyone. Jorryn understood this. So why did she feel so much regret in having granted it? As much as she knew the legionnaire needed the freedom to roam, allowed to do her own thing, the Echani hated the fact that she always had to leave. As a Sith, she should chalk it up to greed or envy, not wanting such a lovely figure to escape from her grasp. But that didn't explain the tugging at her heart anytime Rae had to leave, nor did it explain Jorryn's longing to follow. As much as the Sith were taught their power lay in passion, emotions never came easy to the silver-haired Sith, results of experiences long forgotten and buried. So how could they do so much damage if they didn't exist anymore?

Sincerity and true emotion were hard to produce from the Echani, even with as much as she truly did love Vaylin, the Zabrak was only able to provide comfort and warmth towards Jorryn. She never made Jorr feel the ways that Rae did, vulnerable and lost. The first night they met was a product of the Echani's unguarded feelings with the disappearance of Vaylin, but surely that couldn't explain why even now a part of Jorryn could feel Rae in the distance, desiring to reach out and be with her. The Corellian was smart and skill and had the Lord Inquisitor's utmost faith, more than any other. But Jorryn wanted to protect her.

She needed to protect her.

​

A foot stamped down on the side of the speederbike to begin the ignition cycle, the engine roaring to life with the same fieriness that the Lord Inquisitor felt in herself. Her duty as Lord Inquisitor was important, but Jorryn knew where she needed to be at this moment. It wasn't commanding forces from the comfort of a battle tank, nor leading troops into the fray of Cassel Point. In her heart, the only place that she currently belonged was beside Rae. Hands twisted the metal engine of the bike and pressed it forwards. No path to follow to find her attendant aside from a small feeling in her heart, a faint string tugging her in the direction of Cassel Point.

The incomplete monolith loomed in the distance, pieces of scaffolding and evidence of recently finished construction not taking away even slightly from the intimidation of having to assault such a behemoth. That didn't matter anymore, all that Jorryn need to worry about was finding Rae.

The tug in her heart pulled her towards a small cliff in the distance, the only hint of life lying upon it a small factory standing out against the sky. There was nothing special about the dull building, but the promise of Rae being inside lit it up like a bonfire against a dull sky. Grips turned to slide the bike in the direction of the building, the best way up a small slope that showed recent disturbance, and a small part of Jorryn's mind began to worry that she could see multiple. Driving the speeder up it, the only presence she could feel was the soft tug of Rae into the building, a call to the Echani that would have to wait to be answered.

A lithe feminine figure stood out in the distance, a small beat of hope quickly disappearing as Jorryn reassessed the girl, blonde hair striking out against a dark suit. The Echani's mind didn't linger on where the girl was from, nor did she care about such trivialities right now. All she knew was that whoever it was, had been standing between the Lord Inquisitor and her dreams.

"Where is she?" Presumption of guilt escaped the Echani's lips in an accusatory tone, quickly removing and dismissing the speeder helmet as she strode in front of the blonde. Fists clenched but didn't immediately threaten violence as would be expected of a Sith, concern and anger broiling off of the silver-haired Sith more than any ideal of arrogance and violence. "Tell me and I might allow for you to leave here."

 

[Constantine Oliva]

Location: Borsok Atmosphere
Objective- provide air support to NIO forces
Allies: NIO Jalter Volff
Enemies: TSE forces

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Cassel Point. The closest battle on the ground was at Cassel point. Constantine ordered Hawk towards the fortress, where NIO forces were under attack. The 8 dual turbolasers of his ship would lay down some damn good fire on the Sith forces. Not all could fire at once, of course, due to the firing arcs of the turrets, but even one could prove devastating. As Constantine Prepared to begin firing when the ship was close enough to the Sith forces, his comms officer piped up.

"Sir! Transmission from NIO bombers! They're having some issues with Sith interceptors on their tails.."

"Open a channel to them."

The bombers needed help. While Warrior-IIs weren't specifically meant for fighter-screening, they were decent at it. Hopefully, the site of a corvette would be enough to scare off the interceptors before they could take down too many bombers. Constantine addressed his crew, then the bombers.

"Bring us around to support those bombers all anti-fighter batteries had better be ready when we get there! Brawler 3-1, come in. This is Hawk, we're on our way to help with those interceptors."

 

[Darth Prazutis]

The Iron Wolves

Total: 1 Squad of Iron Wolves (Eight Commandos)

Ranged Weapons Melee Weapons Armor Grenades

• 
  
  • Judicator- Sith-Imperial Adaptive Battle Rifle (7 Commandos)
  • SE Blaster Cannon - STA Blaster Cannon (1 Commando)
  • HPX-7 - Heavy Blaster Pistol (8 Commandos)
• 
  
  • Blades - Ebony Beskad (7 Commandos)
  • SI-HB-2 - Ebony Power Mace (1 Commando)
    
• 
  
  • Iron Wolf Armor - Ebony Beskar'kandar (8 Commandos)
  • Crushgauntlets - Ebony Shuk'orok (8 Commandos)
  • Vambraces - Ebony Vambraces (8 Commandos)
    
• 
  
  • Thermal Detonator
  • E.M.P Grenade
  • Ion Grenade
  • Dioxis Grenade
  • Flash Grenade
  • Thermal Imploder
  • Sonic Imploder

Location: HIMS Baneful
Allies: The Sith Empire |
Enemies: New Imperial Order | Ra Vizsla (Eventual Engagement)
Objective: Slaughter
Theme: Reign of the Dark

"They come. Draw them inside. Drag out the fight and draw them deeper within." - Shadow Hand to the Sith-Imperials aboard the HIMS Baneful
Klaxons blared.

All throughout the cavernous star destroyer HIMS Baneful came the endless wailing of alarm klaxons. It was the chaos of a coming boarding action that dominated the attention of each and every person on board the ship. It was the rocking ship from boarding and the echoes of fighting in distant halls nearest to the hangar where the New Imperial forces were concentrating their assault, focused on establishing a staging point to launch forays deeper within the ship. ​

​

Monsters lurked within these halls.​

​

Deeper within the halls of the ship untouched and devoid of any new imperial presence was a small gathering of individuals. There were a group of eight massive warriors, powerfully built that much was evidenced by how imposing their build was, and they were clad in terrifying beskar armor a deep ebony in its coloration. They were commandos armed to the teeth and each man carefully equipped and modified his weaponry to suit his skills. They double checked and rechecked their equipment in what was perhaps one of the stranger aspects of these massive mandalorian warriors - complete silence. They didn't say a single word out loud to one another and they stood in varying places within the large room, one of their number remained closest to the door and while their poses looked relaxed it would take the trained eye of a seasoned soldier to see they were all on alert. In the silence of the chamber there was a noise that came through their helmets, a loud snuffing sound that occurred every so often. In the very center of this room around the squad was a kneeling, dark armored man. ​

​

The Mountain.​

​

Even in a room filled with such brutish instruments of warfare this being stood out. If he weren't on his knees the Shadow Hand would've towered above all of them by over a foot, with more than double the mass to his form. A set of dark plate covered his form and he calmly breathed, the dark side surrounded him like a thick, smothering fog. The man carefully waited until the very first of the New Imperials set foot inside the ship before he spoke two words, conveying the barest minimum of information. "They're here." He said. It drew the gazes of a few of the commandos but still they said nothing. Why would they? It was the way of one gurlanin to speak to another through their natural telepathic gifts. That was one of the many gifts that made this squad unique. There was no form of communication between members of a squad then the gift of telepathy, and telepathy rooted in their natural ability that couldn't be disrupted by the presence of force nullification.​

​

"Where?" The squad leader asked in a deep, smooth voice that exuded calm and confidence.​

​

"Different directions. Some near the engineering decks, many into the hangar. They haven't neared our location yet." The Shadow Hand replied.​

​

But they would come soon enough. ​

 

[KV-6000]

Objective/Location: Breaking the Lines - Borosk System, Moving Into Borosk Atmosphere
Fighter: Tuk’ata-class Sith-Imperial Interceptor - Harmony Sixteen
Onboard Equipment: PU-96 “Imperius” Class Flight Suit | “Judicator” Adaptive Battle Rifle
Allies: TSE
Enemies: NIO ( Jalter Volff Arten Jinn ), GA ( Constantine Oliva )

The missile hit confirmation on the heretic bomber registered in her ears as a gratifying high-pitched beep. Nevertheless, Seo-Yun restrained the urge to laud herself as she quickly angled her interceptor’s nose towards a TIE Outlander which was still flying on a steady flight path slightly behind the large bomber. From there, she established an aggressive lead pursuit angle on the fighter and managed to get off a salvo of four fiery blue bolts from her chin-mounted laser cannons, which she aimed ahead of the Outlander’s path as the pilot banked their craft and executed a hard break. Although she was successful in holding her nose ahead of the Outlander for the initial part of the evasive maneuver, the bandit had presented her with a choice between whether to turn after the bomber or to go after the Outlander.

For a split-second, Seo-Yun hesitated as she weighed the two options in her mind.

Suddenly becoming conscious of the inordinate amount of time she was taking to make the decision, Seo-Yun turned after the bomber without lending more thought to the matter. In the context of a high-intensity dogfight, a quick decision was sometimes better than a slow, but “correct” one, especially given the constantly changing conditions of the battlespace under those contexts.

Unfortunately, her decision had not been quick enough.

Seo-Yun watched in helpless shock as she banked her interceptor and turned hard towards the bomber, which had quickly recovered from the missile hit and was tearing through one of the interceptors in her element. Her perception of time seemed to slow down for a brief moment when she saw Harmony Fourteen go dark in her HUD, the sign of a failed ejection and another dead fighter pilot. The image of a solemn-faced notification officer standing before a pair of grieving parents flashed in her mind, and it was only then that she remembered from her brief conversations with him that he had voluntarily signed up for the Starfighter Corps in order to follow after the footsteps of his two older brothers who had both died in service to the Empire, in spite of the sole survivor policy which exempted him from mandatory service.

A mixture of anger, grief, and unrestrained hate filled her core as she gunned her interceptor forward upon the completion of her break, which placed her craft behind, above, and slightly to the right of the heretic bomber in a lead pursuit, establishing the ideal conditions for a guns-based firing solution. She immediately exploited her advantage and pointed her craft’s chin ahead of the bomber’s flight path in order to lead her target, with the aim of scoring direct hits on the fuselage. Then, squeezing the triggers with delicate, yet firm fingers, she sent a barrage of six superheated plasma bolts from her laser cannons shooting towards the bomber.

Spoiler: Summary of Actions

• Four shots fired from chin-mounted laser cannons at NPC TIE/OTx Outlander. Damage not called, for Jalter Volff to determine.
• Executed break turn towards Jalter Volff's TIE/HB Bruiser, positioning Seo-Yun's Tuk'ata-class Sith-Imperial Interceptor behind, above, and slightly to the right of Jalter Volff's bomber.
• Fired six shots from chin-mounted laser cannons at Jalter Volff's TIE/HB Bruiser.

 

[Eleanor Lowe]

Location: Borosk, shuttle crash site, 300m southwest of Point Cassel
Allies: TSE - @Nearby
Enemies: NIO - @Nearby | Hypatia Arresh
Objective: Keep a lowe profile

​

When finally the nervous energy that had spurred her since waking had worn off, Eleanor found herself facing the reality of her situation. She was alone, stuck in a ship that was totally defunct, surrounded by a fierce firefight and, fresh helpings of artillery and bombs. If she stayed where she would, she'd be blown up or shot, but if she ventured out for help, she'd get the same but faster.

Eleanor bit her lip and paced unsteadily up and down the tilted deck of the ship, casting occasional worried glances down at Madelyn, who looked better now that Eleanor had tried to patch her up, but otherwise remained unconscious and unhelpful. Eleanor was beginning to get a little worried that there was something seriously wrong with the woman, as she had not stirred since Eleanor herself awoke after the crash. But, there was nothing she could do for her at the moment, and there were more pressing concerns at hand.

Besides, she was starting to enjoy seeing her half-sister without the withering looks she usually sent Eleanor's way, like she was something stuck to Madelyn's high-heeled shoe.

Risking another peek out the rear doors, Eleanor noted with some disappointment that there was, in fact, still a vicious battle going on outside. So she sat heavily, her rifle clunking against the metal flooring as she sat down, sliding a little from the angle of the vessel. Wincing a little at the movement - the wound in her side remained painful despite the bacta - she pulled out the commlink she'd found searching the ship, turning the unfamiliar device over in her hands a few times. She pressed a few buttons to no effect until, after sliding a small switch, it burst into life, and the silent space was filled with sudden and frantic radio chatter.

Eleanor jerked back in shock but composed herself. This was her chance to call for help, and get reinforcements to rescue her and Madelyn. She breathed in, waited for a moment's silence, and keyed the comm, wondering exactly what to say.

What she settled on was, upon immediate reflection, not a great call.

"Uh- Hello?" She said tentatively.

A tense moment of silence followed. The Sith Imperials on the other side of the line seemingly taking a few moments to process this gross breach of radio etiquette. After a time, the questions burst forth and Eleanor shrunk away from the commlink, holding it at an arm's length.

"Who is this?" They demanded. "Name and rank, now."

"Eleanor-" She stammered in reply. "The ship crashed and I'm stranded- there's a battle outside so I can't move."

Another long silence followed, and the voices on the other side communicated quickly and shortly, Eleanor missing most of the words, catching 'compromised' and 'unknown person.' Then, the line fell silent, this time for good. She keyed the comm and called for help again, but she met only the hiss of static. The Sith Imperials had moved to a new secure channel.

Eleanor cried out in frustration, standing up and giving the durasteel hull of the ship a savage kick. A wisp of smoke curled up from the top of her head, and she forced herself to be calm. The Sith would have realised by now something had happened to Madelyn, and they'd soon realise that message had come from the Grand Moff's communicator. Soon, they realise what was going down and send a ship down to rescue them.

She peered out into the battle unfolding outside, flinching away from another cluster of explosions hitting the base's shields, and hoping that soon meant before she was blown into smithereens.

 

[DK-03]

Objective: Defend Cassel Point.
Allies: NIO
Enemies: TSE | Lord Venari

Apocalyptic minigun power rained against the onslaught of the Sith Imperial forces, who his enemy described as diminishing the forces the New Imperials brought. DK-03 looked around and noticed that an even number of reinforcements of New Imperials had arrived to meet the number of reinforcements the Sith Imperials had brought. Therefore, there was no current increase or struggle for power occurring in the background that would impact the foreground. There was an incredibly balanced fight in the background.

It was actually kind of weird, like DK-03 was in some old painting that depicted the struggle of good versus evil, an ancient illustration of a battle that shoots for accuracy rather than a distorted, opinionated view.

Where the heroes of the story were prominently featured.

DK-03 looks at you.

Then he looked back at the ground, where a tendril of bogan power erupted from the ground. Without hesitation, the darktrooper tossed his minigun effortlessly into the air, catching it by the barrel. Using it as a hammer, the Darktrooper began slamming his minigun as if a hammer into the ground where the tendril erupted.

"O.k.,"

As new tendrils would appear,

rife with the bogan,

DK-03 would play whack-a-mole.

"O.k.,



O.k.,


O.k,"​

 

[Ellie Mors]

​

Location: HIMS Baneful
Objective: Make it planetside
Allies: The Sith Empire | AMCO , Kiber Dorn , Ingrid L'lerim , Orion Darkstar , Lark ,
Enemies: New Imperial Order | Avernus , Atlas Kane, Ra Vizsla , Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt , Careena Fett , Knight, LT-137
Equipment: Amphistaffs, Tsaisi, Saberstaff
Theme: Monsters

"Ten little birds with ten strong beaks, ten little birds, oh how they all flock to where they need to be."

Her words came in a raspy, sing-song, voice as she strode backwards towards the entrance of the ship's hangar, towards the corridor that led deeper into the destroyer. "Come little birdies, won't you fight? Fly, little birds, fly or be lost." She warned as she turned, an automatic door at her back as the blades on both ends of her saberstaff ignited - serpentine eyes tracked carefully on the newly arrived Avernus who approached opposite her, some distance away in the hangar bay. "Run, little birds." She shouted out with a smug grin, while two pale, scaly, hands raised to erect a field of green energy between herself, Orion Darkstar , Lark and the enemy - forming a temporary wall of separation between the two sides.

To the enemy, she mused inwardly, this would have seemed a rather futile and desperate attempt to defend herself and her allies from the enemy - a thought that amused her so greatly that she simply could not suppress the smile that grew from the grin on her face - but it was merely a temporary distraction, and a signal to the Sith aboard the ship that the goal set was already a success. A siren blared, a siren that coincided with her husband's urge to their allies to bring their enemy deeper into the ship - and in her mind there was no greater stage to set this opera on than the bridge of the ship itself. "To the bridge, now - I will be right behind you." She ordered, dropping the humorous overtones she'd adopted as she'd sung her lines aloud before. The door behind her opened, almost on cue.

The light over the door behind her lit up, bright red alarm lights signaling the one sight no one in a starship hangar ever wanted to see - that the ship was preparing to space the occupants of its hangar - and as the bright, transparent, blue field of energy that normally kept the vacuum of space largely at bay vanished it became immediately clear to all those in the vicinity what the purpose of her force field was - to allow her companions to withdraw through the main corridor towards the bridge of the ship while the boarding party found themselves subjects to the cold, deadly, void of space.

The field, of course, wouldn't hold for long - and she didn't try to make it so, stepping back through the doorway after her companions and letting the wall of energy dissipate as the door closed in front of her. Less than a minute, maybe, given the opportunity for her allies to make use of force-enhanced speed to bridge the gap as urgently as possible. Those who gave chase, and were lucky enough to avoid a cruel fate, would be happy to find the door was not sealed shut.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Location: Cassel Point
Objective: Destroy
Enemies: NIO and Allies
Allies: TSE and Allies
Tags: Aerith Castiella

Murder was Lirka's art, for as she rampaged across the battlefield it soon began to morph and twist itself into a disturbed dance of death, her blade was as precise as it was quick: moving as through it was weightless in those clawed gauntlets, limbs sent flying from where they once stood, and heads rolled into the muck of battle. But the Dancer held no emotion, the baroque plate of her armor didn't allow such a thing: she was a force of nature, a machine,

She was above this trash, and her every waking moment needed to show that.

A handful of troopers fell before her, she could spit on their graves, a pathetic display of Imperial might. Were the rabble going to make a liar of her? That simply couldn't be allowed. But eventually a handful more shots pinged into her armor: ruining part of the engravings that covered it in it's entirety. Two eyes of glowing green fell on the Dog that had fired them, a low and distorted snarl coming from the helmeted creature.

"So the dog wishes to dance with death? Come then, let me bring you to her!"

Lirka surged forward, running her blade through the ground as she ran: a burning mark left through the earth as she ran forward, the chemical concoction that destroyed her body as much as enhanced it filled her every thought now, it was time to destroy, to massacre, and nothing else. Bloodlust filled her eyes beneath that blank-faced helm, and Lirka became the raging beast once again.

 

[Careena Fett]

[ Theme ]​

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

| Location | Space​

| Objective | Board the HIMS Baneful​

| Company | Ra Vizsla / Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt / NIO Boarders​

| Hostiles | Lark / Orion Darkstar ​

​

Chaos in space - lasers piercing the infinite void of space as the squadron of Mandalorian commanded Basilisk War Droids closing in on their prey that was the HIMS Baneful, like wolves stalking much larger prey. TIE squadrons would draw the pressure and attention away from the smaller squadron of Mandalorians as Careena spoke in Mando'a, <<" Concentrate Disruptor Torpedoes and everything else you have. We're making our own entrance. ">> Her command was followed with silent acknowledgment as the Basilisks formed up and all targeted a singular point on the hull before a swarm of torpedoes was let loose, all of them spiraling and flying towards a singular spot on the hull of the ship. Several torpedoes impacted against the shields of the ship, the disruption causing a spot on the shields to flicker and shut off as the impact of the following wave of torpedoes rammed into the hull, blasting open a sizable breach. Atmosphere from within the ship would vent out of the hole as dozens of Sith Imperial Troopers and personnel were suddenly sucked out into the vacuum of space. ​

​

Careena repositioned herself on her Basilisk as she lept off, letting her thrusterpack and momentum carry her towards the breach, her fellow Mandalorians following suit as they had just a few moments to enter the breach before internal systems sealed them off and locked them out. She'd twist and turn to avoid the helpless tumbling bodies through space as the squadron of Basilisks landed on the hull to deal with point defense cannons and other weapon systems that would give friendly units trouble.​

​

---
​

Klaxons blared as the HIMS Baneful was on full alert. Sith Imperial troopers thundered down the corridors of the star destroyer as they moved to their battle stations. The decks rumbled beneath their feet as the HIMS Baneful was being engaged by the enemy on its way to the surface. A Sith Imperial trooper would pause as he stumbled, feeling something impact the hull as the lights began to flicker. He'd look around to one of his companions as he spoke, " What the kriff was tha- "A sudden explosion rocked the side of the hull as a breach was blasted open, sucking the surprised troopers and personnel out into the void of space. Those that had managed to not get immediately sucked out into space and managed to grab hold of anything while activating their mag boots scrambled for the controls to seal the breach. A trooper practically crawled his way towards the nearest control panel as he used his arms to tightly grip the console before slamming a hand down on the lockdown protocol. Metal shutters began to slide into place as the breach was sealed, the venting of atmosphere no longer trying to tear him from the deck as he let out a heavy sigh. ​

​

For a brief moment, he thought everything was fine as he turned around, breathing heavily as he leaned against the console while sitting on the deck, only to find himself staring at a pair of pale white legs. His gaze slowly trailed up as he soon found himself with a female Mandalorian clad in white, a blaster pistol aimed directly at his forehead. Behind her, a dozen other Mandalorian warriors had entered the breach before it had been sealed, already in the process of dispatching whatever survivors were left disoriented and taken by surprise. The Sith trooper barely had any time to react, activating his comms to try and alert the rest of the crew that they had been boarded, but the only sound that would be heard over the Sith Imperial comms for anyone listening was the sound of a single blaster bolt going off as a fist-sized hole was punched through the man's helmet and face. ​

The Sons of Mandalore were here, and they desired vengeance.​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Borosk // Beyond Cassel Point - Abandoned Factory // JSTP
Adriana Fortemps // Allyson Locke // Ryv ​

​

Loske, the glorified chaperone, noticed the hum of an incoming speeder long before she was able to see it. Even over the cacophony of war sounds, the thrum of the engine was distinct, though the model obscure. It’s trajectory was marked in her HUD, and she gave an indicative tap to her commlink that connected her to the Knight in the factory.

It was dismaying to be sending the notification so quickly into their reunion. They’d only had a few minutes in intimacy.

<You have incoming –– do what you need to do and get her out of there stat.> She didn’t need to remind him about the compromise that could befall either one of them if they were seen together. <I’ll buy you some time.>

While she spoke and made the decision to draw attention to herself, she deactivated the stealth components of the suit. The helm and her HUD receding back into the neckline of the nano suit. As quickly as she’d been concealed, she was revealed. If she could make herself more visible it would be a temporary draw away from the pair within the aged and weathered building.

The woman before her was a complete stranger, but she spoke as if Loske would immediately understand the context without any introduction. She did, of course. Based on proximity alone the assumption could be made. Her lips drew in a thin line and she rose to stand, appraising the woman as she approached and accused. Demanded. Her tone thinly veiled the burgeoning concern within her. It was like that sentence was the last gate to prevent the flood of emotion from crashing out of control.

She? The way the pronoun dripped from the woman’s mouth almost shattered the poise she tried to evidence, and quickly obscure beneath a threat. Loske could only assume, based on their location, timing and too many other coincidences, that the Sith was alluding to the whereabouts of Allyson. Or whatever Allyson’s name was to this person. The version of the Corellian. A consideration flashed through her mind that perhaps Allyson wasn’t the truest form of self. This woman was hunting for one name, and Loske was protecting another. Was there one of them that was truer than the other?

Not daring to look over her shoulder to see if the pair inside had made haste, the kiffar levelled her faux perplexed gaze at the assertive intruder with an innocent shrug of her shoulders and a fold of her arms. The bind was loose, entirely anticipating she’d need to beckon her weapon within the next stretch of seconds. The hostility behind that sentiment wouldn’t remain in word form for long. Impossible with that much emotion.

“Might? That’s not a very good offer.”

Time. Time. She had to buy them time. A measly sentence wouldn’t buy them the time they’d need. The darkside was atomized around the pale antagonist, it pulsed as if it wanted to reach out and strangle Loske and make that threat her only reality. It was more refined than anything she'd felt before. Calculated and contained. A dramatic difference to any darkness she could feel, albeit faintly, at the other end of her ethereal tether.

“I’m sure you could be more generous than that.”

That probably wouldn’t do well either.

“Who is it you're looking for?”

Worst case maybe she could be privy to Allyson’s lie.

 

[Ra Vizsla]

COMMANDER VIZSLA
NIO IRON FURNACE | TRANSPORT

| Image by @Khonsu |​

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

B L A C K S K Y
// Basilisk of a Mand'alor
[ Link ]

The hangar bay was being voided.

The basilisk detached from the transport ship, zooming towards the HIMS Baneful.

Loud metallic clanks disappeared into the sprawling dark of space.

The Black Sky had landed on the hull of the BANEFUL.

It's mouth began to eat.

A hole began to tear.

Bombers and fighters cleared the path, as Ne'catra and the transports continued to clear the ships defenses as Ra made his way into the skin of the ship. His visor glowed a bright emerald green in the darkness, still operating off his own personal oxygen supply. Natural defenses began to take place, and the baslisk fought back against the ship, defending Ra's insertion.

Vibrant obsidian sparks emanated as Ra pulled his darkblade from it's sheath on his back.

It wasn't the legendary sword of the Mand'alor... or was it? It was just a Darkblade, a relic from ancient times.

As emergency lights came on in the p-way of the ship, Ra began to make his way further into the ship, Stormtroopers pouring in from the hole he made.

"Clear the way, seal the insertion, and hold the extraction point."

 

[Agrippa]

GLADIUS COMPANY, 501ST LEGION
CASSEL POINT, RAMPARTS
STRENGTHEN FORTRESS DEFENSE
CALLSIGN: GLADIUS ACTUAL

Irveric Tavlar Konrad Bolter
Hont Atellies

No Prayer for the Dying
​

While the ambush was being set and the forces under Hooks were retreating from their positions, I shifted gears to another problem to solve. The endless thundering of the Sith-Imperial artillery laying siege upon Cassel Point needed to be disrupted before our shield fell and we were all turned into dog meat or went running into basements. We had no damn air support, all of it had been focused on dogfighting in atmosphere and the combat between fleets in orbit, so I had to improvise.

Not the first time, too.

My fists clenched know what I was going to suggest was purely suicidal and I opened a line to Major General Waylon Treicolt, <"Nomad Actual, this is Gladius Actual, requesting suppressing fire on the Sith arty. Repeat requesting fire on the enemy arty before it damn punches through!"> while the communique was sent I made Vidage Actual request coordinates of the Sith artillery to be sent to MajGen. Treicolt should he gave the mission a green light.

I lit back the casualty report on my HUD for a brief moment and shut it down as quick. My eyes closed in despair of what I had seen. Pure rage boiled within my veins, we were being decimated out there. All of this relief had been a fool's gamble from the get-go. The Sith had caught us where they wanted us. The whole war effort was bound to collapse right here and right now; all of the lives we had paid with, all for nothing. I chewed fire, yanked my helmet off and slammed it to the ground with all the power I could muster. It ricocheted off the ground and tumbled down a small decline right next to a bunch of debris. Vidage Actual said nothing. Good. Otherwise, I would've cut his throat.

All for karking nothing.

<"Gladius Actual to all Gladius callsigns, fall back from the ramparts. Repeat, fall back from the ramparts."> my voice - venom - poured through the comms. <"Set up for urban warfare.">

<"WHAT THE HELL, AGRIPPA?!"> Krayt's voice exploded back drowning the rest of the complaining chatter of my other sergeants. <"I am either coming back on my shield or on it!!"> I understood his pain. He was a warrior, not one step back.

<"Captain, we can hold some more."> Hawkeye's cold voice asserted.

<"This is an order, soldiers. Fall back."> I cut off the line before Krayt could smash my hearing to pieces.

The easier call was done. Now for the ultimate walk of shame. I opened a line to the Imperator, a long pause before I could utter the words, <"Imperator, this is Gladius Actual - I have ordered a retreat of the ramparts into the fortress. Our strengths critically declining out on the open there, all units have been ordered to welcome the Sith into urban warfare within Cassel Point.">

Shuddering, feeling bloodless and light on my feet, I started for where the ambush of a chunk of the Sith-Imperials was sprung. I found Bingo, Hooks and their men had done a good job. A terrifying, bloody job. I noticed a Legionnaire's body flinching still alive despite the dozen of holes carved into his chest from the fire of laser cannons. Staring at him there, lying among a pile of his own brothers and sisters, I unsheathed my vibrodagger with one move and pierced his throat. A mercy kill that I saw to sate my bloodthirst and dampen the shame.

What survivors remained from the initial wave of Sith-Imperials being masterfully drawn into the confines of Cassel Point by Hooks were rounded up and bound as prisoners of war. I closed my eyes for the few cold-blooded war crimes a few of our brothers committed to a few unarmed, captured prisoners. Morality never existed in the Company's vocabulary.

It never will.

Both Hooks and Bingo's men had set up ambush positions and used the tight quartered environment of Cassel Point to their advantage as best as they could. Bingo informed me he'd sent out pickets keep an eye on what's going on, round up any stragglers and report if there's a chance their positions would be flanked or overrun. Good soldier that Bingo, you'd never guess he'd been an UberEats pilot before signing up for Gladius Company for the better pay.

Anyone who surrendered would be welcome.

Whatever the hell of a change that would make of this doomed from the start affair.

 

[Lord Venari]

Location: Borosk, 200m outside rampart walls.
Objective: Infiltrate Cassel Point
Gear: In Bio
Allies: TSE & Allies
Enemies: NIO & Allies, DK-03

Craters tore into the field as heavy weapons and artillery fire peppered the nearby grounds. Blaster bolts robbed many of any life beyond Borosk. The mausoleum world invited more into its depths. Just beyond the tucked away LZ alongside the primary field of engagement, Venari stood, mystified by the stocky trooper battering away at the tendrils of darkness. At the very least it could be confirmed that this one was deadened to the force, a rare trait very few throughout the galaxy shared. Memories of a time long since passed flashed before the Sith Lord's eyes. An age where blaster fire was law and raiders more plentiful than rain. The budding years at the tail end of plague and utter chaos, when the galactic powers were but fancies of those ambitious few willing to thrust their hands through the muck and forge order from anarchy. Such times molded the boy, who would become Venari, and between then and now he could count those force dead he had encountered, outside of the Vong, on a single hand.

Soil ruptured into the air crusting an earthy film over the clashing Sith and New Imperial forces and snapping Venari from his trance. As the large dark trooper form struggled with the ensnaring dark powers, opportunity presented itself. The Sith Lord could back out of the field and search for entry to Cassel Point, but such maneuvers were risky. Should the crazed trooper, muttering to himself again and again, escape and follow Venari he'd ruin any stealth approach. No, the Sith Empire suffered these fools long enough. Despite his battle against the Jedi, it was the Undying Legion that tackled the shield-breaker's assault on Muunilinst and ultimately they pushed through. Borosk offered recompense, or death. No shortcuts would be taken. The hypervelocity cannon would be taken and with it, retribution. This hulking trooper stood as but the first of many obstacles, and so, Venari would see him cut down.

The Sith Lord commanded the twin spinning sabers he'd let loose earlier, and saw them beam for the trooper's back, as extensions of Venari's will. Armored boots crashed into the ground as he darted ahead toward his prey. He lunging into the air and with a spin activated his personal lightsaber, swinging for a diagonal strike from the soldier's left shoulder to the right side of his waist. Prolonging the battle was not an option.

 

[Spencer Varanin]

//: The Seventh Seal //:
//: Borosk //:
//: Jak spelar tik matt //:
//: Taeli Raaf

​

The winds rustled, and the figure waited for the Sith woman to take her seat. The smile never fading from the visor covered face that rested against her hand. Spencer had foreseen their meeting, she had seen it all since Taeli Raaf had joined the Alliance so long ago. The trials and tribulations of her gutting of the warriors of light had been a joy to see. As a bystander, Spencer was in aw with the dedication the woman had to her craft. The title: the Lady of Secrets didn't hold a candle to the woman's true essence and genius. Spencer had so much hope for the woman when it came to this moment, this game. ​

​

"I did, and you came, like the good little girl you are." The Echani mused, seeing that the woman did her best to keep the facade she had created for herself. Today, she would find the truth in her heart, the one she buried so long ago - or she would die when the former monarch grew bored. Spencer decided the game was more fun if the woman in front of her didn't know her true identity. Though she had a feeling, the woman knew it already, as much as the silver-haired woman wanted to remain hidden from the galaxy - her reputation preceded her. ​

​

"How are the kids? The wife? The Empire?" A simple question meant for small talk, it would be rude to jump in and rip the woman's mind apart right when she sat down. "Alas, I don't have tea, what a terrible host I am." A hand waved as the scenery around them began to waver, showing that the ruins weren't precisely what met the eye. Spencer Varanin, a prodigy, developed and trained by some of the ruthless Sith Lords of the past. Moridin, Varanin, Velok, to name a few, all had a fear that lingered in their hearts of the naive girl they encountered. ​

​

"Before we begin," The world continued to twist around Taeli. The ruins shifting and falling apart, and in their place, a dark endless void began to consume the ground they stood upon. "I'm curious, do you know who I am? Because I know everything about you. Taeli Raaf." Spencer's own small bit of hubris was curious to know how much reach she still had in the galaxy. At a time, she was considered some folk stories, Chosen One, a being that hope was thrust upon. She had rejected it instantly, not wanting to be some useful tool for whomever she called Master. ​

​

Waiting for the answer, Spencer ran a finger along her cheek and under her chin. Taeli had unknowingly already stepped into the first trap set by the former Empress' apprentice. Cold settled in as the mindscape of both the women began to meld, as much as Spencer wanted to trap Taeli in her mindscape, it provided more fun if the woman was able to fight back. The black void finished pulling away at the ruins, nothing was left around them but the gnarled tree chairs and the chessboard. Upon the chessboard, Taeli would recognize the faces of her loved ones, past and present. Her wife is the Queen, with her children being the various pawns. Her sister's face on each of the bishops and knights continued with Taeli's own face being the King. ​

​

"We'll be playing chess, but in a more fun and unique way. Rules are simple, just survive. Each destruction of the pieces may or may not kill the loved one attached to it. I don't know, I haven't fully decided." The woman continued to grin, and reaching into her robes, she produced a small bag of what seemed to be multi-colored candies. "Chocolate before we start?" ​

​

In the black void, Taeli would see what her children and her wife were doing in that exact moment, only adding to the danger of the game they were about to play. "So let's have fun, shall we? Questions? Oh, and don't forget to answer my first question…"​

​

Do you know who I am? Say my name.​

 

[Théodoro]

// K H O N S U _ G A N G //

| Theme |
LT-137 Lucien Dooku Ingrid L'lerim AMCO Kiber Dorn
​

It was the fight he had been waiting for. He had not known that it would be this battlefield, nor against this enemy. But as he had so hoped he was now fighting alongside the Supreme Sun Guardian himself. Now, of all days, he needed to prove himself. For the first time in a while he fought alongside other Sun Guards. Each was clad in the same armor. Here, that golden glow was one of unity. The Scions of Thyrsus stood together against the Sith who had manipulated them so many times. They had bathed in the battle oil together. They would fight together.

Still, Theo sought to stand taller than the rest, to reach greater heights than even Khonsu Amon.

To be fair, he was seven inches taller than the Supreme Sun Guardian.

He really hadn’t wanted to think about it. After all, he’d known the exact physical statistics of Khonsu Amon for years. 6’1”, 176 lbs. Honestly? A little skinny. The bulk of the powered armor made up for it, of course, and the Supreme Sun Guardian was by far the greatest warrior Theo had ever seen. Still, it was jarring to see that the man he idolized was indeed shorter than him. He glanced down at the man from behind him. No, it didn’t feel right.

Nonetheless the young warrior stayed close to the Reclaimer of Thyrsus. While the Sith were dangerous they were far from his mind. He was here to observe the warlord as he fought, to learn his secrets, to someday be as great as him. Perhaps he would not be the saviour of his people, but he would be spoken of in the same vein. He would claim glories equal to Khonsu and be of the same renown.

The spearship broke through the HIMS Baneful’s hull. Theo lept out, only to learn that the hall they found themselves in was empty for the moment. A low growl escaped his lips. There were so many Sith, were there not? How come they were not responding quickly enough? Was there none among their number who wished to test themselves against the Supreme Sun Guardian? Theo had worked with the Sith before and seen their hunger to display their power. Perhaps they were showing their true colors and were simply cowering on the bridge. He supposed not everyone had the same ambition as he did. Some may not want to face greater warriors and become stronger…

Instead a different surprise awaited him. The Supreme Sun Guardian ordered the cadre to wreak havoc within the ship, then stopped him and the young man who was not Thyrsian. They were to fight alongside the Supreme Sun Guardian himself? Theo’s excitement knew no bounds -- at least, within his own armor. He stood straight and stoic when he was addressed. “It is an honor to fight alongside you,” he said respectfully.

Théodoro drew his Solar Glaive as well and followed the other warrior as they advanced further into the ship. He cast a glance at the third member of their group. A Jedi, yet not quite. Had a Jedi ever fought alongside the Sun Guards of Thyrsus? Yet there was something different about his demeanor; his determined gaze and iron grip on his weapon told not of a peacekeeper but of a warrior. Yes, that must have been what Khonsu saw in him.

”My name is Théodoro Pirran,” he said to the other young man. “Might I know the name of the warrior I fight alongside?” Of course, he would still focus on the Supreme Sun Guardian, but he was intrigued by the princely warrior who walked beside him.

This post was made by the Supreme Sun Guardian fan club and is approved by President and Founder of the fan club, Théodoro Pirran.

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective: Play the Game
Qo an Kakija
Spencer Varanin
​

Half-masked though the woman was, her presence within the Force, just that sheer power yet... shattered feeling could only mean she was seated across from just one woman in the galaxy. The environment around them began to distort, the illusion bending and weaving a new reality around the chairs and chess set. The images came first, the black pieces taking on a glimmer of the appearance of her loved ones.

"Well you know, young girls are often so precocious and curious," she replied politely. "And the wife wished I didn't spend as much time at the office, but it's part of my workaholic charm I suppose." She didn't bother answering the obvious about the Empire. The woman before her knew the answer to that question all too well. Even if this illusion, this mindscape of theirs, surrounded them... outside was still a war being waged.

But Taeli wasn't about to let the Echani have complete control over their surroundings. Basic was good, but something like this... a moment of fate deserved something a bit... grander. It took a thought, and a little of her Sith magic, but the floor the chairs and chess board sat upon shifted. With a tinkling sound, fragments of glass started to form a perfect circle, an artistic representation in glass and crystal of different hues showed an image of the Ones, much like that the Emperor was studying in his solitude.

"That would depend on what name or title you wished to be called," she said in response to the Echani's question, a small smile at the corner of her lips. A spark of green appeared between the fingers, and as she slowly drew the symbols from Dathomir in the air, she continued, "Would you prefer Your Majesty Spencer Jacobs of Eshan? Or perhaps the nom de guire of Varanin for your equally infamous wife and former Empress?"

The symbols swirled with emerald ichor, circling around each other until they formed a small sphere. The sphere faded away a moment later to reveal a tea set, that Taeli poured out a cup each of Echani tea for them. The game was both simple and deadly in measure, possibly. Eyes narrowed at the threat against her daughters, against Fiolette. Unlike that idiotic Prefect, there was no need for restraint against the former monarch of Eshan, the woman who had once been called the Chosen One of the modern era. Eyes strayed to where two little girls were running through a garden on Bastion. Her wife was in the workshop, tinkering on one of her antiques. Eyes shifted again.

"A threat for a threat then," Taeli replied, declining the offer of candies and instead reaching into her pocket. A small detonator emerged, one she set upon the table with the chess set. "Only fair that we both have loved ones potential at risk. Your son is here with the New-Imperials," eyes looked at the image of their shared mindscape of the younger Varanin, "this detonator is keyed to several devices of Omega Red the Empire has brought to potentially render this world uninhabited to anything not of the Sith."

The implied offer would hang there. If Spencer won, the detonator was hers. If she lost... well... the New-Imperials would be completely wiped out if Taeli so chose.

"I believe white moves first, your Majesty, and you can drop the illusion on what you hold," Taeli said, her smile widening. "I had heard rumors you possessed a certain device. This mindscape proves it. I'm intrigued."

 

[Lark]

​

Allies: TSE Ellie Mors AMCO Kiber Dorn Ingrid L'lerim Orion Darkstar
Enemies: NIO Avernus Atlas Kane Ra Vizsla Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Careena Fett Knight LT-137
Objective: Follow the Leader


Lark continued to hum, matching the tempo of the foreboding warning of Darth Alekto. He didn't actually know if she referred to them as 'birdies' with knowledge of his name or because the song seemed even more haunting that way, so Lark just pretended it was both. "Right," he said, accepting what is was that they had to do.

For a moment he wished to linger just a moment longer, to see those poor souls abandoned in the hangar drift into the empty, infinite void. To watch them slowly drift away, to watch their corpses spasm and collapse as physics once again proved its danger. Indeed, if there was any place to die and be completely forgotten, left completely nameless, it was in the absolute darkness of space. At least the cold would provide some semblance of comfort in their final moments.

The perfect escape for a monster.

But not now, not yet. He still had so much work to see done. That soothing, cool blanket would not lay over him quite yet. Turning away from the NIO soldiers within the hangar, Lark hurried past Darth Alekto and went towards the bridge as commanded. The door opened without issue, as he knew it would. And from there he would do as he was told, as much as he wished to have his own fun, and make his descent into the corridors bathed in harsh, scarlet light.

Do not be afraid, a kind voice said in his head. Playtime will be here soon.

And you were always so good at games.