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

[Darth Vinaze]

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

"Lord Kaar, it would do us well to not aggravate this Jedi." Derleth said stepping up to stand between Kaar and Vaeri. "Jedi," he continued now turning to focus on the woman, "you are here to fight the Emperor and his minions are you not? If so we are not your enemy, not yet. Try and strike us down if you must, but know we find great power in the Sith Code."

He didn't now if his pleas were falling on deaf ears. Few other Sith, Keeper or Imperial, would tolerate the temporary truce that Derleth extended to this Jedi. But it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. If she was not, then she would be killed. Derleth did not wish to waste his death now, but what he saw as the dogmatic narrative of the Jedi may likely have precluded this option.

Before he could receive an answer from the Jedi however, he could feel the presence of the enemy upon them. He could not see them, as the hallways forward were now blocked by this Jedi and her large saber. The room was bathed in azure and blood-red from the active lightsabers, and the force around them hummed with the dark energy imbued in Derleth's sword. Even with the intense presence of the sword and the Sith Lords, another presence in the force called out to him. It also radiated with the dark side. It was another Sith. Another friendly face was unlikely, but Derleth continued to hope. He could hear their faint speaking getting closer as they came through the twisting halls towards his party.

"Make your choice now, Jedi. There are more Sith on the way."

 

[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
S I L V E R _ F O R _ M O N S T E R S

With The Devil's faltering, more valiant souls of the 501st are quick to lurch toward him in an attempt to take advantage of that new found vulnerability. Those infuriated visors, those dead sheens of greenish black peering down the sights of their rifles as they moved in line to intercept The Devil. They would not cede the advantage, they would not offer any quarter to this malfeasance of the Bogan. He was the embodiment to the threat to their very existence, to not only the ideals, the union formed in defiance but in the new found bond of brothers-in-arms. Instead of taking in that power and stamping their feet in retreat like any intelligent soul they sighted him in and fired.

All the same as their comrades on the ramparts, their valiance was snuffed out in a agonizing, brutal frigid embrace of The Twilight. A force power esoteric and its effects taking hold immediately as it withered the troopers down to their death. Irveric would not be far behind in pursuit. He would not allow him to escape his grasp again. To do so would only put more of his soldier to the slaughter, drag them through this raking suffering they'd been subjugated to in the face of The Devil. Lurching down below where Kascalion had trembled in the wake of Tavlar's first strike, the Imperator was onto him again. Though he truly should've taken up arms to slay this beast, vanquish this demon. But he was not so deluded to think they'd do anything against Giedfield.

It was a battle of shear will. One he had to prevail.

A kick connected against his thigh, sending a stinging shock through the muscle group as it seized up for a moment even if the outward shell of armor prevailed in absorbing the force. The next one and the next fail to hit their mark as Kascalion begins his full assault on the Imperator. When a fist comes to strike at his face again, the Sovereign Imperator moves to grasp ahold of the wrist in his left as he shifts his head to the side before moving his right hand to grasp ahold of The Devil's neck before moving to bury his knee into his stomach and throw his weight against him to pull him to the ground. Irveric's arena. Whenever he'd been cornered with no weapon in hand he was sure to bring his opponent to the earth. It kept him alive in his scrap to near death with the Jedi Lanik Dawnstar . He could only hope it would prevail now. He could only hope to finally end it. Wordlessly, he pounced back in his assault.

All the while, the ranks of the 501st continued to pin down the coalition of Kascalion's host with its squad deployed magcannon and other heavier weapons which brought the meat to the infantry's firepower with small arms in particle beam carbines acted only to supplement the heavier weapons as the fearsome crack of the magcannon continued to sound out rhythmically with each shot down range.

<"Don't give em an inch troopers! Keep bringing the hell down on these S-IMPs. Not one step back!"> A 501st NCO scouts out down the line, baring the same low and guttural tone as the rest of his comrades. Veterans alongside the Imperator since the Sith-Imperial campaign to Kintan, they had been in the fire long enough not too be so rattled by the sensory envelopment of war.

 

[Adriana Fortemps]

// Lord Inquisitor Fordyce //
// Borosk //
// Get the Girl //
// What's Good //
// Allyson Locke // Loske Treicolt // Ryv //

​

Irritation and impatience tugged the Echani's dark brow in a furrow of annoyance, the ploys of the Jedi working as they typically did against the Lord Inquisitor. It was an unfortunate habit of Jorryn's that she still struggled with often, keeping her cool, and when the life of someone so special for the girl was on the line, such provocations had a tendency to be more effective than they typically would.

"My generosity is reserved for those that deserve it, girl."

Nails dug into her palms, threatening to draw blood. Still, the silver-haired Sith wouldn't yet reach for the hilt of a lightsaber dangling from her belt. As tempting as it was to beat the smugness out of the blonde standing before her, time was hardly on her side considering the woman's lackadaisical attitude. Especially considering Rae was already inside the factory behind her, somewhere that she had no business being. Immediate conclusions would surmise that her attendant had been subdued by the Jedi, though the Echani couldn't think of why they would bring her out here.

"Feigning confusion is hardly an attractive look I'm afraid." As she began to approach the Jedi closer, a hand dropped to her hip, opposite from where the hilt of her lightsaber hung. It was perhaps something of a gamble that she was taking, far enough away from the girl to have an opportunity to defend herself if this woman was one of the more extreme of their order but not enough for it to be great. Still, Jorryn needed to get past the woman if she was to get back to Rae's side. "I am looking for my attendant, tall, brown-haired, pretty."

The words were a simple gauge as she began to circle around the woman, eyes searching the structural weaknesses of the building for another opportunity to get in with the Jedi blocking the main entrance. Engaging in asinine conversation with this girl would only delay the hostilities for so long, however, the return of a hostage being far too risky in the middle of battle, even despite its distance.

"Don't take my patience for foolishness, Jedi." Amber eyes began burning a hole into the woman as she glared at her counterpart, only willing to let her coy games go on for so long. "I will offer you a simple trade, Matson." A self-pleased smirk coming across her face as the name poured from her lips, though the arrogance didn't clear the annoyance in her eyes. "As Lord Inquisitor I have certain access to our bounties. If you are able to assist me with finding this woman, I could make it so your pretty face is wiped from our servers."

It might not be the best form for a newly promoted Lord to offer assistance to enemies of the state, especially for such little reward relatively speaking. But Rae meant far more to the Echani than capturing Loske would, a yearning that constricted her chest even when they were apart was more important than whatever sick intentions that Ellie Mors had in wanting Loske and Maynard brought to her alive ever would be.

Unfortunately, the timing for a peaceful resolution didn't have much opportunity to linger as cold cement exploded and rained down upon the opposing pair, a hand shielding the eyes of the Lord Inquisitor as she used the force to shove the debris away. Attention was quickly stolen away from the blonde Jedi, a fluttering in her heart confirming who one of the figures was before her eyes could. The male figure was quickly discarded as Jorryn's eyes rested solely on her love, relief clear in her eyes as her body relaxed.

"Rae!" Running towards the falling figure as she shot towards Ryv, her vision unfortunately tunnelled solely on her attendant, ignoring the still idle threat of Loske Matson. Whether she would regret that decision or not would be up to the blonde, opportunity available to the most advantageous.

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective: Play the Game
Qo an Kakija
Spencer Varanin
​

Taeli quietly sipped her conjured tea, watching the former Queen across the chess set. Studying her. Gauging her body language. Corellian though she may be by birth; by nurture she was Lorrdian. Lorrdians were experts in body language and silent forms of communication, their history of enslavement during the Kanz Disorders still a strong hold on their culture. Chess matches on Lorrd were 80% about reading your opponent before you even made a move. The smallest thing, even the words being said, all could offer clues on how to navigate the match.

This was no different.

Spencer had been taught well to hide what she thought, likely by her infamous wife. Being the significant other of an Empress would almost necessitate being able to conceal thoughts and feelings from dignitaries, rivals, even supposed allies. The tone...

"Well the past twenty years would say I am rather clever," she replied taking a small sip of her tea, not trying to sound boastful. Her intelligence was her most positive trait in her opinion. "But if you cared nothing for a bastard son, you would not be hovering near the edges, close enough to act if any true danger threatened his life. It takes a mother," her gaze wandered to the two little girls playing in the garden, "to know a mother."

Taeli had once promised Fiolette that if anything happened to Nerralyn or Aerys, she would burn entire sectors to ash to punish those responsible. The rage of a mother... even Emperors could fear it.

"But I do believe you care nothing for yet another Imperial faction in the galaxy," she continued in response, watching as Spencer moved her first piece. A pawn, towards center control. "What's one more in the neverending cycle hmm?"

Spencer shifted tact, it was small but it was there. The device that she was rumored to possess was something Taeli would love to study. A fully intact one... oh yes, it would have a draw on her curiosity. And then she just had to bring her sister into this. The darkness around them shifted, revealing a Corvus being tortured endlessly by Nether beasts, consumed and reconstituted. Begging for it to stop.

Purple eyes narrowed. Her sister's disappearance and likely death was still a wound, however healed and scarred over it was from time. She still missed Corvus, still missed Melori. But...

"Wrong sister," she replied, moving her king's pawn forward two spaces in a mirror of what Spencer did. "We both know that Corvus Raaf would have become one with Force, consummate Jedi that she was. Torture within the Netherworld was never going to be her fate. Melori Raaf, on the other hand, was a Sith Lady and punishment for sins committed would be waiting."

As she spoke, and a flick of her fingers, the images around them would begin to shift. As for the mention of Fiolette… Taeli could not deny that non-Force users... did not have a prayer if they were consigned to such. It was one reason why the Akala Incident almost two decades ago now had been such a destabilizing event. The Nether had been flooded with souls of those that could only provide sustenance for the spirits lurking within.

"A far worst fate, no doubt, waits for your beloved," Taeli said. The images would sharpen, drawn from their shared mindscape. Ashin Varanin, Empress of the Sith, one of the most powerful Force users of the modern era, weak and powerless as enemies closed in around her on the Field of Blades. "So many enemies wanting to say hello.

"Or perhaps..."

The image shifted again to show Spencer herself.

"Fear of what awaits a Chosen One that ultimately shirked her duties in bringing balance to the Force and galaxy. But then, you're well acquainted with fears after all. A Phobis Device."

 

[Rae]

//: The Truth //:
//: Borosk //:
//: Protect the girl //:
//: Ryv //: Loske Treicolt //: Adriana Fortemps

---

...I know I'd go back to you...

Our bond is honest, more than you've ever been with me...I can't help you if you're gonna keep secrets from me…​

Allyson didn't hear anything else he spoke of, except those words and the name of the Jedi he suggested that would help him. She looked at Ryv and shook her head, "I don't know him." It was all she said on the matter, no one was allowed in her head. It was a mess, and she could feel every fiber of her being torn each way, unraveling like a ball of yarn. The fear of having someone in her mind and pushing things aside to organize it made the Corellian hold her breath, she remembered how Kaine Zambrano pulled delicate memories from her mind. He used them against her; he used Kaili against her, fear settled in and shook her head again. ​

My life is secrets... I'm a spy...I lie and have secrets. ​

She thought quietly to herself, there was nothing more she could say on the matter. If he knew everything she had done, if he knew every face she had been, he would condemn her. "Ryv I -" He moved away, she already knew he had gotten some sort of message. The device he used emitted that much to the Mechu Deru Master, she tilted her head, now having a focus that wasn't her own mind. His hand beckoned her, and she followed and poked her head up to see. Unlike the Jedi, she had been able to zoom into the sight head of them with the contact lenses she wore, Loske was talking to someone, and when she realized who it was, she felt the wind knocked out of her. Allyson sank where she was standing and fell inwardly, why was Jorryn on this side of the battlefield? A hand shook in front of her mouth as she fought the urge to say the woman's name. ​

​

Ryv's voice was muffled, but she was able to figure out what he wanted to do once he blew the wall. Gathering her blaster from her side, she chased the man doing her best to make it look like they had gotten into a scuffle, and he was on the run. ​

"Rae!" ​

She heard the lyrical voice of her lover the closer they got. Rae tensed and worry coursed through her as she knew that Jorryn had followed her into danger. It didn't matter that the woman was the Lord Inquisitor, Rae felt responsible, wanted to protect her, and her heart ached to know that she could be hurt because of the lies. There was no blur, nothing to announce Allyson becoming Rae, she didn't even feel the shift, a part of her wondered if she yet had done so. Rae and Allyson's lines were blurred so much that the Shadow couldn't discern when Rae took over. ​

​

The blaster shots started hitting closer and closer to the Kiffar, aiming at his feet now instead of the area around him. None would hit him, but when she drew close enough to Jorryn and Loske, Rae tossed aside the blaster and felt the force course through her frame. Eyes widened as she watched Jorryn turn her back on Loske, she was open for the woman to attack, and something inside of her cried out through the Force subconsciously to her friend, her best friend, her rock. ​

LOSKE NO! DON'T HURT HER!​

As the words echoed in the Force to the blonde Kiffar, images flashed from deep in Rae's memories into the woman's mind, latching on to her affinity for Psychometry. These memories were full of the Echani Sith and Allyson's cover. Every smile the woman had ever given to her attendant, every time the woman showed the frustration she felt, and the times when she was vulnerable in front of her. Words echoed behind each flash of memory for Loske to hear, and with each word, she would feel the ebb and flow of her emotions tied to them. ​

"You would follow me anywhere? Even if this dream became a nightmare?"​

"Make me feel better."​

The words would continue to repeat themselves, growing louder. One memory continued to stick out, it was blurry, the feelings of fear and loss would vibrate through as muffled words echoed. It would be at the end of the sequence that Jorryn's face would turn and face whoever was beside her, the moment the mesmerizing gaze of the Echani would send a calm warmth through the memory. The rest of the world would cut out, leaving only the woman. ​

"They'll wait, I'm where I want to be."​

The connection would fade, releasing Loske from the barrage of memories. Rae drew closer as she reached out with the Force and pushed Loske away from Jorryn, hoping to prevent any attack heading towards the woman. As Jorryn ran to her, Rae's Force powered sprint would allow her to move between the two Jedi and her Charge. ​

I'm sorry.

It would be the last thing Loske heard from the Corellian. ​

​

Without her blaster and not caring for her next action, Rae opened her palm and drew the blue lightsaber from her side. The blade ignited, crackled as the crystal felt the imbalance in the woman. Its ion blade distorted slightly as she held it in front of her, ready to defend the Echani if necessary. It was hard to discern if she was acting anymore or if her most authentic emotions were showing. Emerald eyes scanned the two Jedi and ensured her body protected the woman. It was her job to protect Lord Inquisitor. It was one she took seriously, especially with how she felt towards the woman. "Jorryn, are you okay?" Concern bled through her Imperial tone as she took deep breaths; even in her position, her focus was on the woman she stood in front of. ​

​

Nodding to Loske and Ryv, "You two should leave here."​

 

[Lord Venari]

Location: Borosk, 200m outside rampart walls.
Objective: Infiltrate Cassel Point
Gear: In Bio
Allies: TSE & Allies
Enemies: NIO & Allies, DK-03
Note: Sectional retreat is just a reference to post #75

The plasmatic blade of crimson found purchase in the dull gray armor of the darktrooper despite any openings he'd left in the maneuver. The twin floating lightsabers clutched through Venari's use of telekinetic saber combat continued to beam in toward his enemy's backside though they had quite a distance to cover. The Sith Lord wrenched his primary blade from the thick armor and backpedaled three steps across the grounds, and then finally called off the dark tendrils of power. Such abilities could be costly in prolonged use. A trap of different sorts was nearly ready. Venari raised his weapon overhead preparing to drop the notorious avalanche of Djem So. The slightest moment's reprieve was allowed to pass as time was bid for his floating arsenal to meet its mark.

In the distance the cries of war boomed throughout the battlefield with a reverberating force that rattled Venari's bones. A dared glance found that some of the Sith-Imperials were pushing through an NIO section in retreat. Not a bad start but the chaos was too abundant for any celebration yet. In truth the fielded Imperials of both the Empire and the Order went blow for blow still. That wasn't good enough, Venari had to push through the arena of singular battle and move forward. Ultimately this duel served no purpose, retribution wouldn't be found after the fall of this trooper alone.

"Ok."

The sole comprehendible utterance of the beast dragged his attention back to the battle at hand. In a boorish move the brute threw his large weapon directly at Venari swung downward and pressed his burning blade though the mini-gun. The colossal strike seared the duraplast construct into two, leaving one chunk to fall to ground though the other crashed into Venari's pauldron. Minimal damage but the blow pinged a sensation down to those same nerves the blaster fire had padded earlier. The Sith Lord bared his teeth and with his left hand returned fire with a bolt of Sith Lighting. Sparks mustered into a small torrent, which beamed for his enemy. Before the strike could even land Venari darted forward pulling his blade overhead once more. When the distance was covered he dropped the falling avalanche of crimson power. From the flank, his telekinetically held twin sabers swept in on the target as well, one aiming high between the shoulders, the other low around the knees. The trap had been sprung and with it, failure would see a prolonged battle, success, another step paved for toward the Empire's ultimate victory.

 

[Kiber Dorn]

Currently Engaging: Théodoro
Location: HIMS Baleful, en route to Borosk
Objective: Heed the commands of The Creator
Tags: AMCO Ingrid L'lerim LT-137 Lucien Dooku

Only those who sought to remain hidden escaped the touch of the abomination; it was a hovering nexus, to put it bluntly, and thus all life that was touched by the Force was in turn seen by the eye of the mind. Still, there remained a blind spot reserved for those who shed the touch of life itself from their form, the Force dead. An inconvenience, something for The Creator to remedy at a later date.

With a telepathic connection now established to the Sith Lord's companion, they moved towards the engineering deck, the source of the notable disturbance.

Naturally, the creation stayed behind the two Sith. Logical, really, as the legless abomination was very evidently not a physical juggernaut to be sent into the fray first but rather a weapon to be deployed from the back. Or at least that was the working theory, as this excursion was to be an active field test.

As it continued to sift through the cacophony of life there was a change in the focal point. Amongst the swirling desperation of the crew spiked new sensation, ones of alarm and fear that tinged eyeless vision with strokes of yellow and black.

Then crimson.

One-by-one whispering voices began to vanish from the being's mind, leaving behind nothing more than parting shadows. Death. It didn't perceive the end of life in any emotional sense, the product of carnage felt was simply observed as a part of nature's tapestry. Men fight, and men die.

However, something glimmered in the ashes. The sensation of a feeling. Admiration. The more the creation focused upon it the more it glinted within mind's eye. Excitement. Ah yes, there it was in golden glory beginning to deafen the other voices. Pride.

This was the one, this was the test.

I have found a target, Creator, came the stoic information that rang through the skulls of the pair that moved ahead of the Sithspawn, I shall proceed no further, lest I am attacked and disrupted.

Physical frailty was an unfortunate setback of the creature's existence, a cost for the ritual and result of the species that had made it. Unless summoned by its Master it would remain out of the fray. After all, there was no necessity for it to be so close to the action; its abilities could be utilised from afar.

Returning attention to the source of reverence the experiment began to gather focus, invisible tendrils beginning to attempt to probe the mind of the target. It was quiet, almost gentle if not entirely insidious in nature. What would the man feel? Would he sense it immediately? Would he hear the whispers that plagued the creature's own mind?

Could he resist?

 

[Vaeri]

Truce.

The word sat like metal on her tongue, twisted and foul. They offered it to her, for reasons she did not understand, they stilled their blades against her. The woman was not NIO, nor GA, nor one of any other name. She bore her cause like a crest, her scars the only thing to mark the sith influence she had undone in the galaxy. A truce. It was a game she would not fall for. Vaeri’s upper lip curled back, her distaste evident as the sounds of others quickly approached.

The numbers swelled with new arrivals. Three sith watched for her response, each positioned lazily in the halls they sought to control.Vaeri's attention flickered to each one, her gaze sharp and features angular as she examined them in turn. The woman was not fool hardy enough to ignore her limits, but the implication of rising sith numbers gave her no choice. It was easier to kill three than ten.

“Thou shall not suffer a sith,” she quoted a snarl to her tone as she twisted the saber over her body. The blue light danced across the ground as she dashed forward, the decision made as she put force to the hit she leveled bluntly across the closest, Derath’s head.

If he went to block it, she’d move to shove the heel of her boot into his unguarded chest and kick him back.

The woman moved with inhuman speed, already attempting to disengage the first man and bring the back end of her double-hilted saber up in an arc from the ground. Unaddressed, it would go through Vora Kaar ‘s chin.


(Internets down, apologies on the phone post

 

[Hypatia Arresh]

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

Hypatia swapped out the hud's views from thermal to blood pressure and calibrated them per the information she had on the Grand Moff. One of the targets was stable at the least although the pattern matched someone unconscious. The other? Alert, highly so, a quick flick of her hand to set the hud's view back on thermal. She stepped on something as she moved forward and most likely gave herself away, this was now a moment of waiting or striking and if she were honest it was the latter. If she waited she'd be found and lose the element of surprise altogether. From what Hypatia could gather the person was watching the entrance, smart.

There wasn't much time to play cat and mouse, between the simps and nimps competing for who could be better genocidal empire with a history of violence. And the lovely artillery shells that seemed to dance around Cassel Point, Hypatia decided a direct approach was necessary. She stood to her feet and took hold of her disruptor rifle once more and steadily walked toward the entrance of the crash site. A trained ear would know that the Mandalorian was on the approach. A trained eye would catch her on their peripheral, rifle in hand and not just for show.​

​

Once in ear shot of the entrance, "I can take you in hot or I can take you in cold, Grand Moff Lowe." Sure there was some bounty hunter out there that could say whether or not she did the 'correct' approach, but Hypatia didn't give two kriffs. "I'd much rather we all walk- well, most of us walk out of this place in one piece." Mentally, Hypatia ran through the quick reflex of the disruptor rifle, blaster pistol, knife and quietly wondering if that carbonite gun was still on her person. It might be that was the bad thing of wearing armor so much that it felt like a second skin. Either way, the disruptor rifle was plenty intimidating.

The beskar-clad Mandalorian came into view for the occupants of the crash, relaxed but ready on the rifle if necessary.​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Borosk // Beyond Cassel Point - Abandoned Factory // JSTP
Ryv // Allyson Locke // Adriana Fortemps
I Dreamt We Spoke Again​

Confusion bled into the recesses of her mind. Not being an empath eliminated the emotion belonging to the woman before her. It’s origin had to be from either of the two in the factory.

As much as the Sith tried to embolden a predatorial pacing, Loske felt far from a prey in the proximity of the Echani. There was too much desperation about her, the way she spoke. The amount she spoke. Each syllable unfurled revealed something more, but the script was a stark contrast to the usual Sithling posturing. Despite her opponent seemingly not wanting to initiate an attack, Loske kept poised to counter. It was time she was purchasing, not blood.

Her attendant. The notably Echani woman was looking for her attendant. This was the Sith Rae, née Allyson had spoken of in the encrypted transmissions.

Rae Cooke. Such a banal name. Easy to remember, but easy to forget. It was important to find a name that balanced on the precipice of both –– a pro tip from the mistress of shadows herself.

––––––
​

Coruscant // Several Months Ago // Gang Clean Up Duty​

​

Loske didn’t like the idea of being assigned a backstory and a new identity. She didn’t see the point in it, and only in the past few years had she really come to terms with what her true own self worth and distinguishing self was. Squandering it in riddles and falsehoods didn’t sit well with her. It had taken her so long to find out what her memories were versus the ones that had been implanted from the Jedi Masters Matteo and Grayson that pretending to add new ones to the chaos made her almost squeamish.

On top of a backstory, she’d have to lie. The Padawan hated lying, she intentionally focused on her distaste for untruth to the point that she was unabashedly terrible at falsifying her words.

En route to the drop off, she complained about it: “But what if they believe us?”

Allyson was busy adjusting some of her tech gear, blinking her contact in. Her response was absent and not yet irritated: “That’s the point.” A pause, the Corellian leaned back in the seat and blinked at the back of the driver’s seat, letting the augmented reality before her eyes adjust while the blonde chauffeured her around. “Remember, your cover name is Marie"

"I thought I was Lumiere"

There was a crispness to Allyson’s tone the second time: "What is your name Loske?"

The blonde still didn’t like the idea of lying about who she was: “You just said it.”

"What's your cover name?!"

“You don’t even look like a Lumiere.”

"They're code names Loske"

“I should be Lumiere. Starts with L.”

"Fine you can be Lumiere.” A pause. “What's your name?"

“Marie. No wait, you just agreed we changed it.”

"WHAT. IS. YOUR. NAME?"

“Can’t really focus with the yelling, Marie.”

“No, you’re Lumiere!”

“I know! I was calling you Marie. What is this theme anyway?”

Allyson groaned while Loske pulled up to the dropoff point and hopped out of the car without answering.

“Chat later, Marie.”

She’d just have to trust the Master of Lies.

–––––––––​

"Don't take my patience for foolishness, Jedi.
I will offer you a simple trade, Matson.
As Lord Inquisitor I have certain access to our bounties. If you are able to assist me with finding this woman, I could make it so your pretty face is wiped from our servers."

Her blood ran cold, as if it congealed when the silver-haired woman with the silver tongue spoke her surname. She didn’t much care if her name was stricken from the record, but if the bloodlust could be redirected from her counterpart’s head... then perhaps there’d be some merit to the bargain.The bounty wasn’t just on her head, it was on her partner’s as well. But verily the promise was baseless. This was a Sith, making idle suggestions to see what stuck. Whether or not Loske’s constitution betrayed her, she couldn’t tell — but she vocalized nothing in response.
Despite the inquisitor's incessant objection to engaging her, Loske’s want to lash out ached. There was a Sith in front of her, and she could fulfill her own self subjected redemption arc of contesting an evildoer and not faltering with an infected mind as she had with Alekto. Her charge to protect Ryv and Allyson was calcified, there was nothing to doubt here. Her friends were reuniting in that building and Ryv was going to get Allyson out.

In the time it took to make that decision, the factory was aglow with a show. Ryv darting from Allyson, and...the Inquisitor turning her back to intercept and be the salvation for her attendant.

A grimace flashed as the only evidence of her mind changing. That’s it. No more of this assessment garbage, next time she was going to use Maynard’s approach and just lunge without question. No, not next time. Now. Her blade snapped to her hand and she charged forward until an invisible wall slammed down on her and she stumbled, tripping over her own feet while an assault slammed against her psyche.

LOSKE NO! DON'T HURT HER!​

Too many people had access to her brain to influence her. Ghosts in her head. Too many bonds and melds easily made. Cedric, Maynard, Ryv, Allyson. Honestly probably Amea too if she concentrated enough. As much as her heart was on her sleeve, her brain was a welcome mat. And it was starting to collect too much dirt from the soles that were invited in.

The Corellian’s influence, shaped like a spear, pierced through Loske’s intentions. She gasped at the intrusion. Allyson’s shrill tone was almost as desperate as the bark Maynard had bellowed in protest to Alekto when the dark lady had almost ended Loske’s life. The sense of protectiveness so similar, too similar to be a lie, to what the Mandalorian had shown that day. It put a stop to all the Padawan’s actions. Her saber felt like nothing but a stick in her numb hands while the reel played the plot and the main characters took the scene.

The woman she’d been posturing against and had just motioned to lunge at was smiling behind Loske’s eyelids. Her near-translucent skin aglow with sunlight. A satisfied warmth permeated through her with each toothsome expression flashed between the pair. Cheeks rosy, words honest, sadness replaced with contentedness. A scene Allyson had communicated to Loske before. Feeling accepted by someone so wholeheartedly for who she was.

"I want to take care of him. I want to hold him and tell him everything is going to be okay. Because he does that for me, he just gets it - you know, just gets who I am and what I'm about, and I feel the same way for him." ​

So who was she? Allyson Locke or Rae Cooke? The woman at the other end of that mental string hooked in Loske’s psyche seemed lost. The pilot had dreaded this reality. The one where too many roles were played, too many fielties pledged, too many hearts beating.

I'm sorry. ​

No strike from her lightsaber landed. Before she could reorient herself to the present, an invisible blast swept her off her feet. Any resistive barrier she’d have in place as protection had eradicated when her mind had been infiltrated.

The salacious Sith before her were entwined in a web of spoiled silk. Allyson was sinking beneath a mire of the mud she’d tracked over that doormat of Loske’s mind. The Corellian accent was replaced with an imperial one, and true perplexion evidenced across the blonde’s expression. Which was the real accent? She’d heard pure emotions now through both voices.

This didn’t feel like a façade. If Loske could feel it, surely Ryv could too. Whatever the Padawan was feeling was likely worse for her brother, and a panicked gaze flicked between the three faces. Allyson’s befuddlement became Loske’s own, but of a different nature.

Loske didn’t know what to do.

Rae apparently did, and that lightsaber zapped to life.

This opened up liabilities. If Allyson was truly compromised, what did that mean for everyone she knew at The Alliance? Were her friends at risk? Could those loose lips so easily occupied sink ships?

Pained not by the blast, she drew herself to her knees. The amount of time it took to collect herself after being forced from the fight had no urgency behind it. She had no idea what to do with this conflict. Ryv would feel like he had to make the decision, and Loske couldn’t ask him to do that. Not on top of whatever it was he was witnessing here.

Her saber thrummed at her side while her decision calcified. The cogs painfully slow to turn. She couldn’t leave this planet without her friend, she couldn’t acquiesce so easily. She couldn’t lose someone else to the clutches of their own mind; it had already happened once to Kaili and..the biting sensation of loss made a fist around her heart and she shook her head once.

Even if they dragged the Lord Inquisitor along with them, Loske would be damned if she tucked her tail between her legs and let her friend wander deeper into the darkness and lies of her own mind.

“No.” She shook her head once. “I don’t think so.”

No further hesitation to her actions, her free arm pointed in the pair’s direction and an energized line snaked out toward Allyson’s wrists to ensnare both arms together to limit the woman’s mobility. At the same time, Loske gave a yank downward. If the lasso technique found it’s target, the jerking motion could relieve the weapon from the Corellian’s grip. If not, then it’d snap back to the vambrace with the final gesture. Either way, the next move meant Loske was moving in to close the distance and introduce something a little more hand-to-hand to limit the damage to her compromised ex-wingmate.

 

[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

"I see you."​

Ra's visor emblazoned in emerald fire at the sight of the Sith and the Iron Wolves.

He silently held his hand up to the 403rd Battalion, standing the Stormtroopers down as he stepped forward towards the Wolves without hesitation.

"Mando'ade," Ra boomed.


His scanners were going wild with noise.


These were not ...his people.

​

His heart began to beat faster, his adrenaline beginning to pump. These were not fellow Invaders. This was not a skirmish. These men... were here to defend the ship. Their markings were odd... Ra had never seen them before. They didn't look similar to any Clan he had encountered before - no, distorted, confused. Ra continued to hesitate, standing still, hands lowered. Naturally it was assumed several factions of Mando'ade had claimed allegiance to their new Sith captors - but Ra hadn't heard of any force as imposing as these. These men... they had his stature. His gravitas. It seemed odd, as silence purveyed the atmosphere. The tingling sensation of anxiety and threat loomed over the encounter.

Ra took a step forward, his hand going to his back and unsheathing his Spear.

"You needn't die today, brothers."

His visor emblazoned again with convicted fury.

"Cast aside the chains of your master."

He stood at the ready, defensively postured.

​

 

[DK-03]

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

DK-03's eyeholes seemed to expand in wonder as he watched his only weapon get cut in two.

I should not have thrown that.

What was he to do now? He literally didn't have another weapon, and his current opposition seemed fairly well versed with his blade. This was quite a predicament - he held up a hand to the Sith, as if to ask him to wait, and then waded into the background for a second, disappearing into the battle of Sith Troopers and Imperial firemen. There were a few yells, embattled with a flurry of commotion and dust. Then a voice broke through the chaos.

"HEY!"

"Ok."

"PUT ME DOWN!"

"OH MY GOD SOMEONE PLEASE."

"Ok."

DK-03 burst back to the Sith's battlefield from the background noise, a fully grown Sith Trooper hanging by his leg from the thick behemoth's gauntlet. He looked rather still and at ease, but at second glance was obviously not unconscious nor dead - it just seemed he was quite in shock at what was going on. Though his hands were currently free of any standard issued rifles, the Sith Trooper finally came to recall a secondary weapon on his thigh. Reaching to grab it, he yelled back at DK-03.

"UNHAND ME YOU BRUTE!"

He began firing, but the Darktrooper seemed unphased - and more enthusiastic that he now had a weapon with which to fight the Sith. Brandishing the fully conscious man as a sword as the man fired blaster bolts into DK-03's armor, the Darktrooper began to rush at the Sith, swinging wildly and aiming to bludgeon Lord Venari to death with another adult, first slamming the man into the ground with an overarcing swing and then a horizontal gash into the air with the man after the first swing's recovery.

"PLEASE DON'T KILL ME," the Sith Trooper yelled to Lord Venari, continuing to fire into the behemoth.

 

[Agrippa]

GLADIUS COMPANY, 501ST LEGION
CASSEL POINT, WITHIN THE WALLS
LAST STAND
CALLSIGN: GLADIUS ACTUAL

Irveric Tavlar Konrad Bolter
Hont Atellies

Пачка Сигарет
And no one wants to be guilty for a crime they didn't commit,
And no one wants to do someone else's dirty work,
And without music, even company in distress won't make trouble less,
And without music, I don't want to fall...
But if I've got a pack of cigarettes in my pocket,
Then today won't be so bad after all
​

I snatched a cigarette from Bingo, lit it up with a blowtorch lying around and inhaled the slow death. Funny, how we all, in the safe space of our comfort, desired a quick death but when the bell begins to chime we cling to every minute strongly as if it was a whole lifetime.​

The pounding of artillery shells continued, the endless ringing of blaster fire did not cease. Screams of pain, curses of anguish broke through the cacophony of all the firepower cracking and ripping the skies and ground. They say you get used to it. They lie, I tell you that. You never do. You just try to deafen it as much as you can and pull an act. Showmanship. Probably the most important solution to surviving war.​

The rest of the 501st continued, under the orders of the Imperator, to give the Sith all they had on the ramparts to the point they were throwing bodies down at those beneath the walls. Give them nothing, take from them everything. Meanwhile, Gladius Company set my plan to action - back behind the walls, guerrilla warfare. We were pretty good at that. Extremely good I would say for a unit that was supposedly an element of a standing army. I'd bet Gladius all in in every comparison with Rebel or Resistance elements across the galaxy.​

But that wager wouldn't matter now, did it? We were getting wiped out no matter what.​

We just had to inflate their price.​

Around a few more skirmishes and ambushes, our picket line brought a Legionnaire, a Prefect by the insignia if I remembered correctly. He'd surrendered voluntarily; not even caught in an ambush. Straight up surrendered. I scowled.​

Hooks, Bingo and I were sat on makeshift seats. Discarded crates mostly. A holographic map of Cassel Point projecting from the makeshift table gathering us together.​

The pickets who brought him explained to me the situation and I analyzed the man standing before us. I didn't see the point of keeping any of their prisoners alive. I know we culled a few and I closed my eyes to that; if there was ever a report I'd live to compile after this I'd never include it. I know Belisarius did the same thing. We were a rowdy group of degenerates, we were a terrible representative sample of the New Imperial Stormtrooper Corps.​

I considered execution, can't say I didn't. Out of desperation rather than out of anything else. Emotion prevailed in moments where death seemed certain as that the sun would rise again tomorrow and the world would keep turning as if nothing had happened. But somehow I kept my usual, steel nerved and cold attitude.​

"Well, I am listening. For now." I said with a frigid voice.​

 

[Karina Lowe Legacy]

Location: HIMS Baneful, Engine Room ---> Main Hangar One
Allies: TSE - AMCO | Ellie Mors | Ingrid L'lerim | Kiber Dorn | Lark | Orion Darkstar
Enemies: NIO - Careena Fett | Avernus | Knight | LT-137 | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Ra Vizsla
Objective: OBJ 2 - Assist Ellie Mors , in retreating to the bridge.

​

Karina had ordered the doors sealed just in time. Moments after the bolts had slid into place, an order crackled over the commlink, and sure enough, a moment later the hangar on the other side of the blast door vented, sucking all those but the strongest and luckiest of the Sith and New Imperials into the frigid void outside.

Noting grimly how narrowly she and her company had escaped death, Karina wasted no time calmly delivering her next set of instructions, her attention flickering across various displays and battle maps. The NIO assault of the hangar had been blunted. They would not soon overwhelm the Sith defenders there.

There was a breach behind them. A group passing the engine room, where Karina and her company had just been, had called for assistance moments before going down in a firefight. No other Legionnaires were yet moving to assist, so reluctantly Karina sent two squadrons of ten of her own, reducing her numbers still further. It wasn't ideal, splitting her company, but she knew the highly-trained Legionnaires would be needed all across the ship to help hold back the New Imperial advance.

Above them, another entry was detected, up over the engineering decks. A minute later, another breach, this one closer to the first intruders. Scattered reports of both Mandalorian forces and New Imperial boarders trickled in, as they intruders continued to fight their way through the upper floors.

She opened a commlink to the command centre, speaking brusquely. "Intruders on Level 3, Sublevel 6. I've routed forces. Send reinforcements when able. Seal doors and activate countermeasures." If they responded fast enough, the boarders by the engine room would find the lights above the hallway doors turning red as they sealed themselves, hopefully slowing down the enemy's advance. ( Careena Fett , Ra Vizsla )

With the thirty-odd troops she had left, Karina was unsure what to do. She heard the thudding of booted footsteps and turned, spotting a complement of Armada troops - the ship's crew - rushing to a position watching the locked blast door. Seeing she was no longer needed, she scanned her display, watching the dull red blip of the Sith VIPs as they moved around the ship. Karina saw the Triumvir of Power, Darth Alekto, pulling away from the hangar via the opposite blast doors, moving along the central corridor network that led up to the bridge. She scanned the HUD again, noting with a slight pinch in her gut the lack of reinforcements nearby.

"We're needed to reinforce the Triumvir." She said sharply. If she had eyes or eyebrows, she'd have frowned at the green markers that indicated the blast doors were opening as the Triumvir backed up towards the bridge. As it was, she just set her mouth in a line and tried to accept that the Sith likely knew exactly what she was doing. "Form up and follow me." Karina ordered, her voice curt. She set off at a job, through the corridors circling the hangar and into the main network.

Almost immediately, their progress was impeded. NIO stormtroopers, those that hadn't been sucked into space, were beginning to slowly slip in through the open blast doors and follow the trail to Alekto. The Triumvir wasn't far from where Karina's company had met the network, but she had halted, so they retreated slowly, letting loose waves of suppressive fire to slow the New Imperial's push.

 

[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​

| Hostiles | Lark / Orion Darkstar ​

​

Careena glanced up from the corpse-strewn corridor as her team had dispatched the last of the Sith Troopers they had encountered. She'd glance up as Ra Vizsla's forces had passed through, only giving the former Mand'alor a passing glance and a brief nod of acknowledgement of his intent to go after the CIC before looking away. She still held her doubts about the Iron Wolf, and his parting statement of For the Empire struck no chords within her. All she ever did and would do on behalf of the New Imperial Order was for the sake of her people and returning what rightfully belonged to them. For our people was what should have been said. ​

​

She'd cast the thought aside as the two parties split off to pursue their own objectives. Their presence and proximity to their targets were known by now and the crew were likely scrambling to lock the ship down. The corridors would be bathed in crimson lights as the snow-white Mandalorian continued her march towards the engine room. Blast doors would slide into place, obstructing their path as she turned to one of the younger members of the team that had a particular affinity for slicing. She'd give a brief nod before speaking, <<" Get us in. The rest of you will hold this position and cover till we've sliced our way through. ">> She'd turn her back to the blastdoor as the young Mandalorian went to work on an access panel, slicing into the system as she held her blaster pistols at the ready while the remaining warriors got into defensive positions, ready to turn the corridor into a bloody warzone.​

 

[Hunter Blackburn]

// PROTEIN //
// OBJECTIVE // Cassel Point | The Underground
// ALLIES | NIO // Irveric Tavlar
// ENEMIES | TSE // Djorn Bline

Spoiler: Equipment

Infantry Armor
Disruptor Carbine
Thyrisian Battle Oil
Blue Mojo Necklace
Hybrid Pistol
Vibrosword
Disruption device
The Albatross

The scent of charred corpses and ozone filled the halls of the underground tunnel. At the feet of the two soldiers, there were bodies of those who’d been brave enough to first infiltrate the facility. Stepping over the still-smoldering corpses, Adrial continued down the hall following the crimson trail that led deeper into the tunnels.

Steam rose up from carbon scoring on the Thyrisian’s armor, and even those didn’t slow him. They couldn’t slow him, Adrial was a man on a mission and that was mutually assured destruction. People could claim that the legionnaires of the Sith were simply following orders, that they didn’t deserve to meet such cruel ends. Where were those same words when the NIO’s Galactic Marines had been exterminated? When their lives were deleted from existence by the Sith and those who followed their orders. At what point did people stop simply being soldiers following orders and begin being just as bad as the monsters that they obeyed?

Those who fought for the Sith could proclaim that they didn’t have a choice in what they’d done but such an argument no longer held weight. Imperator Tavlar had proved as much. He had the dedication, the fervor, and the will to succeed from the Sith Empire and took many others with him. Those who remained to fight along the Sith were simple cowards, those who had no will or strength of their own. No, they were worse than their handlers, as they allowed the cycle to continue.

In the HUD, Adrial could see the ping of another show up on his radar. Before he could even fully recognize it for what it was the soldier took a hit directly to the visor of his helmet. The impact rocked the warrior’s head back, the HUD went fuzzy as glasteel fractured.

The taste of copper filled Adrial’s mouth, and a liquid could be felt flowing freely from the man’s nose. First the face twisted, eyes wide, mouth agape. Then slowly it closed, turning into a maniac grin that stared through the cracks in the visor. Both of the Marines gauntleted hands rose and laid themselves upon either side of the legionnaire's head.

The Sith trooper screamed as force continued to build up, focused on their skull. Their screams echoed through the tunnel and down all the way back towards the entrance they used to enter. The piece of metal the soldier held rained down on Adrial. Back, shoulders even blows on the Thyrisian’s head. Nothing stopped the Marine as he continued applying pressure till finally there was a sickening pop. Viscera decorated Adrial’s armor, christening him, and as other pings began to show up on the radar Adrial knew this was only the beginning.

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

NPC Forces:

• Cognus Legion - 1st Battalion - Korriban Company [121 Soldiers]
• Argent Walkers - 2nd Battalion - Typh Company [95 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: Rip 'Em Up

---

The Slayer is skill incarnate, Kascalion decides as he finds his wrist seized, a knee being driven upwards towards his stomach, and his body being dragged down to the ramparts in an instant faster than even he could prepare for. It is a surprising instant , one that would normally send a volley of shock into the battlements that was his own confidence. Yet, he does not feel such an emotion. Instead, he feels the boiling of anticipation, battle-lust, and perhaps even furious and abhorred respect. Through pure training alone, he is as fast as the Hand of the Emperor. As strong as the Hand of the Emperor.

And this makes him feel a new cornucopia of emotions alongside the preexisting anxiety that comes quicker than he had expected in his fight against the Punished Tavlar. But it is welcomed all the same for it proves something to him, something he needed to be proven.

Irveric seeks to win quickly, viciously, dominantly to remove Kascalion as a threat entirely. If he can kill the Devil today and be rid of him for all days to come, he will fight and fight and fight to do so.

He will not be able to, and the Devil will validate that claim this day. He will demonstrate that he is still above his foe, even if the man is without a soul, even if the man is a void within the void. But most importantly, he will show to the entire New Imperial Order that their blessed Imperator is still as mortal as they and is just as fallible. A difficult task indeed. Ideas begin coursing through his brain as the ramparts' surface draws closer and closer.

How do I get him to crack? How do I get him to break? He will always match me physically now. I know this. How do I....her. The woman from Bescane. The lover of the Punished. Might as well attempt it.

The plan is made and the target is chosen. She will be his weak point as she always has, in some capacity or another. She will be the chink in his perfect armor. She will be the Punished's undoing this day. "You fight with unbreakable purpose and willpower, Tavlar," he hisses a mere second after colliding with the structure under him, his cheek pressed against the hard surface. "Why is that? To defeat me? Or to protect someone? Someone you love...someone you want to love? Someone you fear will leave you through death or volition?"

Rising to a crouch from the ramparts, the Promethean rolls forward, shifting his weight mid-roll to rise to his feet and force the Slayer's left hand behind his back in one motion. Immediately, he moves to wrench the left arm upwards whilst reaching for the right to yank it leftwards and downwards and pressing his right knee into the lower back. An unorthodox - if relatively ineffective maneuver on a technical level - but that was not what he needed. He needed only a few moments to spare for his speech.

"Yes. I know who is. Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt ," the Devil hisses to his foe, his tone full of loathing and detest. "I have met her before. On Bescane. She was a spitfire. Very admirable. I can see why you chose her out of all others that follow you. She has such a delectable attitude about her...and her power. Yes, her power."

He would push away from his foe, sliding backwards into the idle stance of Stava, his eyes gleaming and a smirk hot on his face. This is the plan. This is the target. The events on Bescane still linger in his mind, by choice or against his will. And he will use the memories of these events to do what no other has done. Splinter the shield of the Imperials.

"She...is falling. Do you know that?" he muses with a deep, gutural voice that shifts like wet sand on a beach. "Diving into the endless, miasmic, oceanic abyss that we Sith soak in. But of course you know. How could you not? You told her to stop. You told her that this power she was born into is evil and corrupting, and you will not have her use it like we do. Oh no no no. That would be terrible, would it not?.....You failed, Tavlar. She has used it and will use again. And she is falling and you will not be able to stop it. I have seen to that. Tell me, did she ever inform you of what happened on Bescane? Of the horrors I made her look upon? Of what I did to drive her to those lengths of entering an irredeemable existence?"

 

[Darth Vinaze]

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

"Though shall not suffer a Sith"

Derleth knew those words could not mean anything good. They could only mean that this Jedi was forsaking her chance to live. Before he could register just what was going on, long before he could formulate a surprised answer, he was shook as the hilt of the Jedi's lightsaber came forward with a sudden movement. It struck him directly in the forehead, his black robes billowing as he quickly fell backwards to the floor. His sword dropped from his hand to the right of him. It was too heavy for him to do anything with it from this position, so he instead opted to kick at the woman with his thick black boot. She was fast, and she had caught him off guard. He knew Vora was a powerful Sith. Powerful enough to crush this Jedi girl, but a firm kick at her ankle from Derleth would certainly help. He just hoped she wasn't nimble enough to avoid it...

 

[Thaelius]

Location // HMIS Chimera, 189th "Black Magic" Command Division //
Allies // Moon Seo-Yun Melia Siari //
Enemies // Marlon Sularen Dracken Pryce The Likes //

"Enough"

In an instant, the entire bridge crew of the Chimera were silenced by the one word issued by the Admiral. Thaelius stood from his commander chiar, his white and red cape flowing behind him as he strode towards the main viewport which sat directly in front of the main catwalk.

"The observation is over. Signal Superiority Forces Oath of Allegiance and Benevolent Crusader"

His orders were carried out quickly and quietly with astounding efficiency. Each officer had prepared themselves for this day. They had been drilled day in and day out. The game of war was beginning. "Admiral, if I may. What are the results of your observation. What should we do?"

"The commander of the so called 'Wraith Squadron' is a Corellian. A rather interesting one at that. He seeks absolute power and yet...like the sayings of old, he is corrupted absolutely. He'll charge when he she should stay put. He'll fight when he should retreat. But in the end, he's trying to prove himself, and that I can respect. Tell Rear Admiral Oswald to bring the ships of SF-OA to flanking speed. Once this is achieved, slow down and lay fire for our frontal assault"

Spoiler: War Fleet Iron Halo: Battlegroup Mith'raw'nurodo

• 1x Belldux Class Star Battlecruiser
• 2x Autarch Class Sige Breaker
• 2x Marr II Class Star Destoyers
• 2x Intercessor Class Star Destoyers

Superiority Force "Oath of Allegiance"

• 1x Arbiter Class Heavy Battlecruiser
  • HMIS "Oath of Allegiance" (Superiority Force Flagship)
• 1x Autarch Class Siege Breaker
  • HMIS Crimson Sword
• 2x Marr II Class Star Destroyers
• 4x Athena Class Sheild Frigates

Superiority Force "Benevolent Crusader"

• 2x Marr II Class Star Destroyer
  • HMIS Hyperion
  • HMIS Crusader (Superiority Force Flagship)
• 2x Incapacitator Class Interdictor Cruiser
• 6x Athena Class Athena Frigates

Active Fighters (Several Squadrons)

TSE TIE/SF
TSE Scorpio Class Droid Starfighter
TSE TIE Fighter
TSE TIE Demolisher
TSE TIE/K

Spoiler: Fleet Actions

The Chimera takes heavy Sheild and Armor Damage but otherwise remains intact.

The rest of Battlegroup Mith'raw'nurodo Exits Hyperspace, Superioto Force Oath of Allegiance under the command of the Hatch Rear Admiral Oswald, flanks Wraith Squadron with the Allgience itself firing all four of her Proton Beam Cannons at the Predator

The Autarchs also take considerable damage but fire another round of Autocannons at the Intercessors followed by TSE Intercessor Class Starship's firing thier Kyber Cannons at the same targets.

Superiority Force Benevolent Crusader provides fighter screening and limited support to the other warships.

 

[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
T H E _ B O T T O M

"You fight with unbreakable purpose and willpower, Tavlar,"
"Why is that? To defeat me? Or to protect someone? Someone you love...someone you want to love? Someone you fear will leave you through death or volition?"

Because he's the enemy. Within the rigid confines of the battle. The primal struggle. There was no force feeding Irveric any other narrative. There was only one aim now. To be sure of the one man to walk from the exchange of two, it would be him. Bloodied and limping or not, he would impose his supposedly unbreakable will unto this malfeasance of darkness. End him. His first volley of attacks landed but Giedfield continued on unfettered, unwavered by his mortal tampering. He had to escalate.

It seemed the Promethean mirrored his line of thought.

"Yes. I know who is. Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt ,"
"I have met her before. On Bescane. She was a spitfire. Very admirable. I can see why you chose her out of all others that follow you. She has such a delectable attitude about her...and her power. Yes, her power."

The next strike willed by Kascalion landed with a devilish fury as he found himself buckling at his knees and fumbling to the ground with the Sith Lord's knee planted in his back. That's when he first indicated it. That's when he first felt it. Pain. It was a double layered strike that came from the cruel placement of the blow hamfisted with precariousness of the position he'd been forced into. Submission to the fury. He offered out a low groan between gritted teeth, the ever natural composite of pain and rage.

<"Keep her name out of your mouth, Sith."> Irveric reflexively snapped back in anger before he felt the respite granted by Kascalion backing from the advantage he'd lean forward with another forced grunt of pain. Heaving in heavy breathes he slowly rose back to his feet.

Even still, Kascalion continued to press and prod at the periphery of his emotions. When he was once so stalwart in only revealing the pale frigidness of his tempered exterior, that armor was wearing thin. The weight of obligation was baring down on him and flexed at the foundations neglected. He had undertaken this march with out any real confidant. Tethered only to a single personal attachment, a single outlet of affection cut of a different cloth than the brotherly guidance he'd led his troopers into battle with. No, he loved her. Foolishly or not, she was was a special object of his so often concealed affection. And she'd spat on his face and forsaken him for the darkness. Not as if he'd done himself any favor in being the man, the partner she truly needed. While he prevailed on the open field, his bulwark was cracking at the seams in his mental state.

It wasn't until now that he could vent this slowly compiling rage and make due on its slumber, make due on what felt like an eternity donning a cold and ugly visage of of the Imperator. The man unbreakable, unwavering.

"She...is falling. Do you know that?"

"Diving into the endless, miasmic, oceanic abyss that we Sith soak in. But of course you know. How could you not? You told her to stop. You told her that this power she was born into is evil and corrupting, and you will not have her use it like we do. Oh no no no. That would be terrible, would it not?.....You failed, Tavlar. She has used it and will use again. And she is falling and you will not be able to stop it. I have seen to that. Tell me, did she ever inform you of what happened on Bescane? Of the horrors I made her look upon? Of what I did to drive her to those lengths of entering an irredeemable existence?"

<"Stop...stop...stop."> Its barely audible, that low heaving of anger. It felt so liberating, uncontrolled and unfettered. Were he in posession of any line to the Force, Kascalion might've felt it cut through the air in an echo of his presence. But he was void from it, it was no use to The Devil here.

Even in this existential war he'd waged, this schism he'd started. He failed to protect her from the Sith. He failed to protect her from trembling into the darkness. He failed to keep her as his. He failed her. But who to pay the price? There was no use in a suicidal penance now, standing before an enemy with every capability of slaying him where he stood.

There was only redemption in shedding blood, shedding the blood of him. This despicable creature, this snearing Devil, this deceitful malfeasance. Kascalion had to die. The Sovereign Imperator would not concede to any other course. He screamed low and guttural. Primal. Awash in rage for this manifestation. That was what Kascalion was. The manifestation of his fallen comrades, his bitter defeats, his sleepless nights, the prodding manipulation that constantly assaulted him and the man who threatened to take what little he had left of him.

Kascalion had to die.

He could feel the veins protrude in his temple, his teeth threatening to shatter away as his jaw locked against skull in a penance seal before he lurched forward, pulling the activation pin of a Void Grenade before letting it rupture on the plate carrier mounted to his armor, spewing voidstone ridden smoke in the air before he activated the vibroblades in his gauntlets, attempting to plant one in The Devil's abdomen as he ducked down and lowered his shoulder to plough it into the Hand of Carnifex's center mass and send him slamming into the earth beneath. He would impose his will on Kascalion and put him to the blade here and now. Or be damned if he didn't die trying.