Invasion No Quarter | NIO Invasion of TSE held Dantooine

[Aurelion Nova]

Aurelion's Lightsaber || Aurelion's Sith Armor


Aurelion had little more than helped the woman and child free from the building when Aurelion sensed the presence of Sinestra within a nearby building. Ulrich seemed rather concerned by this and, address Aurelion, asked him to escort the woman to safety. Aurelion was thankful for the dragon's instruction, even as he did his best to escort the woman away from danger, intent on helping her away. Even so he nodded in distinct thanks to Ulric and, ushering the young mother from the streets, took a deep breathe as he thought about how he would respond. As he returned to the dragon Aurelion would pause, and think, trying to think of how he could be of assistance.

Aurelion did not like the idea of Ulrich sustaining damage on his account and would reach out to the dragon telepathically to communicate, keeping his planned retaliation secret without the need to shout it out to the large dragon. 'They are in that building there.' Aurelion informed Ulrich, showing the dragon a mental image of the building as his senses extended out to take in the building. He could still feel the men inside, their locations relative to himself and Ulrich, and could show the dragon as much. Murmuring to Ulrich in the dragon's mind "They're injured, moved across the building." Aurelion, drawing in a slow breathe, reached out with the Force and drew up a small cloud of floating, spinning rubble. A group of roughly five dozen rocks the size of a man's fist. Not an impressive feat of telekinesis by any means, but he was still unused to the Force not lashing out at him when he called.

"I have an idea." Aurelion would inform his draconic companion, as the cloud of rocks floated over in front of Aurelion, before Aurelion nodded. "I'll see about restraining them. I don't wish to kill them." Aurelion would them send the rocks forward in a rushing cloud of rubble in the building's window and, weaving both his sense of where Sinestra and Tavius Muuaji were, he would begin to rush the rocks towards the two Imperial troopers. Not as missiles intent on harming them, but rather Aurelion would hold the stones against them upon contact from the neck down. Turning the stones into an impromptu restraining device while not threatening to crush their windpipes or seriously injure them. The cloud of stones would be, at first, focused on restraining and sticking to their armored arms and hands, feet and legs, immobilizing and restraining them. Even smaller pebbles would be wedged behind the triggers of any blasters they carried and as for grenades? In all honesty all Aurelion would do for them would be to simply put a stone in the way should the soldiers attempt to grab another grenade. He did not want to kill them. He was not a murderer. He was just a child in a war-zone.

 

[Daedalos Solidor]

O B J E C T I V E | Get her number.
T A G S | Lavria Xedrim
G E A R | Armor, necklace,
pistols, lightsaber.
T H E M E | Here.
V O I C E | Here.​

His plain, simple face corrugated immediately after she pointed out some smirk regarding his attire. How did she know what his feathers were? No one knew, Daedalos leaned his face a little to the left and smiled, showing genuine thrilled happiness on finding a woman with actual taste.

“I’m actually an Elzeri, babe, but you got it right on the bird though, they taste great with some honey and pepper, but... " Fredo raised both of his guns and pressed gently on the triggers, just enough for them to go off, not aiming at that hot piece of arkanian cake in front of him, allowing both bolts to fly in the air, passing through both sides of the woman, hitting against the floor, ripping small pieces of dirt and tossing it in the sky. "I'm a better dancer than a gunslinger in case you are curious about changing spurs and joining me on the lepi hop all night.", he was plain as he was stupid with his seductive lines learned from the brothels of Telerath, where the richer went to enjoy the weather and have a good time. Almost as if mesmerized, Fredo actually noticed for the first time those two glowing tonfas on the sides of her body, red as fresh blood, deadlier than an acklay on spice.

Both his lips joined in a little pout, as his windpipe swallowed whatever spit was inside his mouth, rightfully nervous as his ears jumped up and down twice. Now, he was paying enough attention and while the entirety of his arm's hair bristled giving him goosebumps, Daedalos could feel the sinister gleaming strength of the Force surrounding that superb woman. But as in any situation, he found himself in, Fredo, much to his own distaste, muttered.

"How about you, sugar... are you any good with those?", he brought both guns and leaned them on his shoulders, before bending his head to the right, trying to avoid a little eye contact and trying to speak with actual sincerity. "Here is the thing, love... I'm not very fond of fighting women, feels... dubious." The moment he spoke the word dubious, Manfredo used his heels and jumped back, creating enough distance from the woman, as his hands slammed both thumbs up on his pistols, igniting the cryo mode on both of them. He pointed both pistols against the zabrak female, and shouted loudly with his thick accent
"So it would be really luscious of you if put those things down and joined me for a drink."

 

[Lark]

​

Location: Crystal Caves
Writing With: Enlil

Lark could only chuckle in the shadows as the radiant warrior came into view, and he appreciated that the man at least took a moment to enjoy the true beauty presented before him. But soon, it was back to business. They were both here for a reason, and it wasn't to go sightseeing. The man was expecting a sneak attack, and perhaps Lark would've been able to pull one off. There were plenty of angles to choose from, and the mirrored images presented on the crystals might have made for some light-hearted trickery before a more lethal strike. But then the valiant soldier made his own gesture of kindness, although the offer did come with the caveat of Lark's death. Not exactly a fair exchange. But this was an opportunity to learn a bit more from the man. Rushing into battle would waste such a chance.

So he kept his weapons sheathed, and made no move to draw them as he leapt out from the a rock bluff above, using the Force to land gently on the cold ground as he emerged from the darkness. "Believe me when I say I understand the significance of such a proposal. I am honored, truly. Unfortunately, what you offer is something I do not seek." He met the man's ruby eyes with his own, laden with corruption but somehow innocent all the same. No hatred, no malevolence. No, something else fueled his passions.

"My original name has been lost, my current one nothing more than a sham. All shall be forgotten eventually." Lark began walking towards the NIO soldier, though no acts of hostility were made. "I'd be a fool to think that a false title would be engraved in the annals of history. I will play my role in this galaxy, and then I will die nameless and forgotten."

Finally, Lark stood in front of the man's outstretched hand. In some sense, they appeared eerily similar in both appearance and demeanor. "You will know who I am soon enough. If I cannot tell you, allow me to show you." His hands softly cusped the man's extended palm...

And the wonderous crystal spectacle faded into nothingness.

And was replaced with the laughter of a happy family.

Three children spun around a small merry-go-round within a playground only they used. The eldest was a boy with dark hair and darker eyes, whose smile was rarely seen. Yet his love was always felt. Next was the boy that Lark used to be, whose laughter could bring joy to even the most harrowed of men. He wanted for nothing, save for the happiness of his siblings. He cared not that their family was living off rotten apples and mushy bread. As long as they were together, nothing could possibly be wrong in the world. He was the happiest boy in the galaxy. Finally, their little sister. She was too young to know why it was she giggled so merrily. But she knew that her brothers loved her more than anything in the world. And that was enough.

And then, screams. The boy's sister taken. His mother abandoned him, nothing more than a scarlet smile on her neck as a way to say goodbye.

But the boy still had his brother. Together, someone once said, the two of them could do anything they wanted. They survived within the cold, unforgiving slums of Myrkr, their home the most inhospitable bridge in the galaxy. But that didn't matter. When the boy's brother held him in his arms, the most frigid chill would not take him. Blanketed in mud and covered in fleas, their love for each other sustained them. It did not matter what they faced. As long as they were together. Then, the brother too was taken from him.

Then the boy read the story of the Nameless Prince.

Then came fire. Ash. Rebirth. A bird's sweet song.

Lark.

The Sith offered him a home, once he proved himself worthy. Lark found joy in the tasks the Empire sought from him, and he enjoyed losing himself in tome after tome of ancient secrets and lessons. It was a brutal, unforgiving family. And even amongst them, Lark faced many betrayals. But he found true companions nonetheless. AMCO , whose charming lunacy was only outmatched by his quick wit and charisma. Orion Darkstar , the only man from Lark's original training class that still drew breath. And then...

Lark had stared madness in the eyes when he discovered that blasted Necronomicon. Ever since his rebirth he had developed a personality for every conceivable scenario he might be faced with. One moment he'd be an acolyte eager to serve the Empire's will, the next he'd be an amiable student eager to learn more about any subject that piqued his interest. His mind was shattered, with a Monster and a Child vying for control, and the Nameless Prince's influence was felt as much as a sun's rays at the beach. The Necronomicon only further scattered what was left of his mind. No matter how much he fought it, he risked losing himself completely.

"I believe you're the first person among the Sith that I can call a friend. I like this side of you. Please don't change, Lark."

A meeting at a snow-covered winery with Nida Perl that he'd remember for the rest of his days. The kindness she showed him changed something within him, and that tenderness had a marked affect. It allowed him to sew together the pieces of himself that he could salvage, for better or for worse. Were it not for Nida, the Monster would have have taken over entirely.

This memory trip was becoming way too one-sided.

After welcoming the man into his own mind, Lark pushed back into the incandescent warrior's own memory. It was time to uncover what was so strange about him. And oh, how delicious the secrets were.

A King, whose benevolence was unmatched. If one of his subjects suffered a scratch, he would turn hell over to ensure justice was served. Not one family wanted for food, drink, or medicine. Even when threatened with absolute annihilation, Enlil was the first to draw his blade against them. For no enemy could dare hurt his planet. The only one he knew of.

And then, nothing.

Untold millennia passed. Civilizations were born and then forgotten, in an endless cycle. Generations gave life to generations, and all were forgotten by the time Enlil made his sudden return. From here the memories were to quick, to jumbled for Lark to make any sense of. But one did stick out. A face, one that he had never seen in person but that he had heard described to him by a certain friend he had made amongst the Sith. Is that...

Yula?

Lark quickly withdrew his hands, jumping backwards to create some space between him and the forgotten King Enlil. The truth was even more exquisite than he could have ever imagined. A King from eons ago, here in front of him. Whose arrival was completely unknown and unexplainable. One mystery had been solved, only to be replaced by another. "Well then, King Enlil," Lark announced with a hearty laugh and a bow. "It is a true privilege to make your acquaintance. My false name is Lark, and it is my honor to be the first of the Sith to welcome you to this brand new galaxy!"

 

[Ursula Vizla]

L O C A T I O N | Groggy-Groggy City.
O B J E C T I V E | Divide and conquer.
T A G S | Meko Sorrin
I M P L A N T S | Eye, legs, arm.
G E A R | Armor, rifle, pistols.​

Her hand was shaking. Not that mechanical piece of art she bought on Balmorra from those brilliant morons at Blood Robotics, no, it was her own arm, her flesh piece of bone, scrawny as a piece of dry wood. Whenever she turned her head to look upon anything on the holographic map, Ursula would see red points of lights blinking all over the city, tagged as enemies, who would say that the imperials would bring the big dogs for the fight? Expected, she knew well-enough how they operated through those things, Ursula saw it first hand on Bastion, and she wasn’t impressed, but surprises could come, even to an insane maniac genius like her. Daddy used to tell her a lot regarding not getting too cocky, she should stay sharp and always expect the worst thing possible to ever happen at all times. Her mechanical finger kept tapping on her arm relentlessly, while the Mandalorian bounced her head both left and right, uncrossing her arms and rubbing the palm of her hand on her silky red hair, preparing it for the helmet. ​

“Ok, you want to play games? Fine. Ok, ok, ok, ok, ok, ok...” Vizla slammed the panel, something that caused the droid to growl furiously, causing her to rub her hand on the same area she slammed it her fist. “I’m sorry, big guy... Bring yourself down two hundred meters. Fly between those buildings, I want to avoid other aircrafts, open communication with my guards... “, the droid did that almost immediately, which caused Ursula to bend over the panel and started to whisper. “Move half the cobras up, tell them it’s Christmas and to go wild, but tell your boys to get down. I want to draw enemy fire to them, while the other half to go around the buildings and soak it on blood, I don’t care, we have to keep it up for a while until Darth Something-Something decides to send more troops.”​

“His imperial majesty’s name is Darth...”, she hung upon his face, and as the Basilisk monstrosity went down, Ursula started to press buttons on the droid, causing it to roar viciously. Outside, his wings expanded, almost taking over the streets, and from inside the machine, Ursula decided to launch all of the incendiary missiles the Strile had loaded inside, completely fueled with a volatile gel that would stick to almost anything it touched, and burned at an immense temperature, but the funnier part on that lovely mechanical ingenuity was that it scattered the flammable liquid across the area until it hit his mark, burning all to the ground. ​

“Mistress, didn’t the Sith asked you not to start burning things? I mean this is basically a planetary grassland, isn’t this going to burn even fa-...”, Her IA started to talk from the microphone on her left ear, while Ursula simply shouted inside the droid cabin. ​

“QUIET!”, Ursula once again slammed the panel, causing the Strile to start making disconcerted noises. “Sorry, Strile... “, she closed her mechanical hand in a fist and brought it to her mouth as she went on to clean her throat and explained. “How surprised the damn imperials and those filthy Jedi wouldn’t be when they have the fire to deal with... Now, Strile, shoot the smoke bombs!” ​

The machine opened both his arms and unleashed a thunderous sound, like the muffled roar of a Rancor. She seized this opportunity to open the cabin, and as the smoke blanketed the cities air, Ursula placed her helmet on her head and jumped a hundred meters from the ground on free-fall, madly laughing as she activated her jetpack mid-way to bring her safely to the ground. As Ursula landed, the troops that accompanied her on foot crossing the corner marching behind her with the Strile flying over their heads, the Mandalorian raised her arm and pointed for them to proceed forward, as she activated her cloaking device shortly afterward, disappearing not only among the smoke but also from every sensor known to this galaxy, including the naked eye. Invisible, Scrawny, and lighter than an average soldier, Ursula ran, almost feeling for the soldier in her care, they would most likely die horribly, twenty troops weren’t much and she knew the imperials had grip and were fiercer than krayt dragons, but she was worse, she could play and make them suffer while hiding in the shadows and confusing them as she took them out one by one. Gun on hands, it was time to play.​

 

[Kenth Ordo]

B E T T E R _ T H A N _ E X P E C T E D
NEW JEDI ORDER
OBJECTIVE II: FIELD HOSPITAL | POST III
SOMEWHERE NEAR GARANG
EQUIPMENT: LIGHTSABER
ENGAGING: TBD, OPEN

Garang was far more ravaged than Kenth had expected, the battle obviously having taken its toll on both its inhabitants and the city itself. He was closing in on the front line, he could tell by the increasingly loud sound of blaster fire and explosions coming from deeper into the city, stormtroopers sometimes rushing past him on their way to reinforce their brethren.

The Jedi Padawan found it quite odd how a short while ago the Alliance and the Imperials had been engaged in small brushfire wars, yet now they were fighting side-by-side against the Sith Empire like old friends.

Kenth supposed that it was just the galactic equivalent of a sibling rivalry which, as cute as it sounded, still left thousands dead and even more displaced from their homes. He could still remember the adrenaline rushing through his veins as he was deployed to Yinchorr for the second time when he was in the Alliance's army, felling Imperial stormtroopers alongside his fellow soldiers.

The prospect of killing somebody was not new to him; however, it was something he did not relish like a twisted-in-the-head special forces junkie that certain powers in the galaxy were prone to have.

No, even now as a Jedi he would have to exercise caution to only take the life of another in self-defence - he had read what it was like to feel a being's death in the Force, and it was something he was not keen on experiencing when he was already nauseated from the swarm of emotions bombarding him in Garang.

He would have to think about this further, as for now, he was closing in on the front lines of Garang. Instinctively, he unclipped his lightsaber from his belt and held it, deactivated, by his side in case he needed it during a future encounter.

Reaching out in the Force as he was trained, he tried to distinguish the faint sources from the normal ones, quickly detecting a fading light in the Force. He ran as fast as he could, ducking under a collapsed light post and approaching the caved-in remains of an apartment complex. The only sign of a wounded individual was the gloved hand of a stormtrooper sticking out from the duracrete rubble.

Kenth bent over, throwing chunks of debris away in an attempt to unearth the poor man, finding himself physically unable to lift the heavier boulders. "Come on, come on!" He grunted, willing the Force to do something, anything to help him.

 

[Enlil]

A_R_B_I_T_E_R

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER

NEW JEDI ORDER

JEDI IMPERIAL STRIKE TEAM

Prisoners of Fate
​

The man...

As Enlil considered his adversary, he realized that perhaps this was little more than a boy, someone who had been robbed of his childhood far too soon. He was lithe, pale, almost sickly in the way he looked. His mere existence bespoke of horrors that a world where Enlil ruled would have never been tolerated. Yet under the Sith, the King now realized that such tragedies were not uncommon.

They had allowed it to happen to one of their own. Of all the twists he could have guessed at in their brutal, horrific tale, this was the most unimaginable. The King let out a soft sigh as he looked down to the boy who his hand. "If that is your wish, child, so be it," he spoke quietly.

The Sith took Enlil's outstretched hand and the world around them changed. Sounds of war and violence ebbed away, replaced with a different current. Echoes from the Past flowed through the Force around both of them, shattering the barrier of time, space, and memory.

A life filled with obstacles, rife with pain, and yet the child that Enlil saw was filled with spirited laughter. It was a picturesque reminder that reality was a cruel fate that no man could escape. Children without a care in the world, laughing, blissfully ignorant of the life they had been condemned to simply by being born.

He watched the mother die, the family torn apart, but the two boys remained. The King masked any response that the scene unfolding might have touched within him. Instead, he gave this story his full attention, and the respect that it deserved.

When the brother died, the boy was left alone. He looked outward, seeking acceptance, a family, anything simply to belong. Instead, he found release in the madness of the Sith. Depravity swallowed him whole, because it was a far better, kinder illusion than the reality he had been born into.

Then he saw her. This was the sister Yula spoke fondly of, the one who had disappeared. Surely, she fit the description perfectly. Before he could think to ask, the scene shifted. The King was no longer watching the horrors and tragedies that had shaped this Lark into the Sith that stood with him now.

They stood in a shaded court, illuminated between great pillars by a setting sun. Sat on his throne, the King listened to the plights of his people. As he issued decrees and regulated commerce, next to him a beautiful silver haired woman leaned close. "My King," she whispered.

Enlil raised a gilded hand. "This new enemy has come from the sky, you say?" he asked of the peasant before him. "They burned your harvest and slaughtered your slaves? How did you survive?"

"My King, please," the woman pleaded, "I have seen this in a dream, please, listen to this man. I beg of you, Enlil-"

He struck her across the face with an open palm. In the present, the King turned his gaze from his memory, ashamed. "You will not speak out of turn," he commanded her, "even if we are to be wed."

If only he had listened. If they had only been prepared...

Lark and Enlil now watched the great city burn, slaughtered citizens in the streets as an Ancient evil ravaged everything. The Temple burned first, the seat of Aslu and spiritual anchor of their civilization. When the Rakata came, they first killed the soul. The body followed naturally.

Now, as his people fled their city in terror, their King stood between them and certain annihilation. He closed his eyes as he heard their screams. "Enough," he said. "That is enough."

At the same time as Lark withdrew his hands, Enlil let his fall to one side. The memories around them fell away and darkness settled once more into the crystal cavern around them. When Lark welcomed him, he frowned.

"I made a mistake once," the King told the boy. "When I had the chance, I did not listen. And so, I watched as my world collapsed around me."

This galaxy had carved itself out of the Chaos left behind by countless dead civilizations. If nothing else, the King found no small measure of hope in that truth. "Because I was a foolish King, I now carry the names and faces of an entire Civilization. I alone know them, and when I die, they will be forgotten. There is no greater tragedy than that. And so, the kindness I will grant you is this."

Enlil clenched his fist tightly, the gilded gauntlet now pulsating with heat as he willed the Force into it. "If you insist that you are not of import to be remembered by History, then I will remember your tale, "Lark." I will remember you as I remember fondly all of my beloved people, because none of them deserved the terrible fate that they were given."

The King raised his other hand now. "Because as tragic as your tale is, there is no greater tragedy in this Galaxy than a mad society, and the men you serve want nothing more than to visit such ruination on others. I was powerless to stop such a thing once."

The gauntleted fingers snapped, loudly.

"Never again."

Lark​

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

Allies: CIS | TSE | Open
Dueling: Salvor King
Objective: Push back the invaders.
Gear: In signature.

. . _ _ _​

The wail of a stray rocket almost took Cara's attention from the apparent manifestation of Clint Veloth, known by billions in the Outer Rim as his ring name Salvor King. He was more than a character, he was a presence that demanded the crowd's attention--dominated it--and his name and image never failed to be somewhere in the sparring gyms Cara frequented. He was a legend, his career one that had been followed by the engineer ever since he broke out into the mainstream. So why in every hell devised was he there, right then, in a new hell being made? Cara wasn't left waiting for an answer for long. The shockboxer took a step back to bring her into realization. Before he even turned the prone watchman's body her eyes went wide.

"You..."

He sighed, inflecting some impatience. "You getting a lightbulb yet, miss?"

Her back went rigid with the implication, her feet already moving her into a southpaw stance out of instinct. Eyes dark, a severe look of disapproval crossed her features as she shook her head, "...got to be kidding." It felt bizarre, a surreal dream after watching too many newsholos after a hard day at the gym. She studied his body language, tracking his movements to compare against the man she remembered. As much as she'd preferred him to be a fake she'd watched the King clean out the competition for too long. It was Veloth in the flesh wearing the very persona that drove him to stardom, and still wearing it as he fell.

Fist servos whined as Cara brought them up in a lazy defense. She shook her head, her voice dripping with sarcastic venom as she spoke, "So...semi-retirement leads to aiding terrorists? I'll skip your autograph, King." Soon as the word cleared her lips gravel dusted the air and clattered into the alley as she leapt forward, clearing the gap between the roofs. Little momentum was shed as she hit the ground running, acting with every intention to throw a right jab at his jaw only to dip, aiming to tackle his waist and pivot him around and away from the watchmen's body.

 

[Vostok Grauv]

OBJECTIVE I

GARANG CITY

COMPNOR

TASK FORCE AXIS

POST #3
​

OPERATIVE STATUS: Moderate Internal Hemorrhaging, Reduced Hearing Capability, Hairline Spinal Fracture, Minor Brain Bleeding.
THREAT LEVEL: IMMINENT DEATH
OBJECTIVE: Don't Die

Theme

The voices of enraged citizens began to flood from around the end of the corridor, Vostok locked his eyes in the direction with his sidearm ready, fully aware now of just how far these people were willing to go - what they would sacrifice. Just as the agent caught a glimpse of movement, there was a sudden instinctual urge to turn around, and as Vostok did so, he was lifted from his feet and hurled elsewhere. An explosion rocked his nerves, vision distorted and warping as he strained to focus - he coughed up blood into his helmet, clutching at the plate carrier strapped to his chest, trying to breathe.

Piercing pain shot through Vostok's torso as he attempted to inhale, his arms shaking as he pushed himself up to his feet. He couldn't let it end here, that would be a coward's death. Black smoke obscured his surroundings as he realized his weapons had been lost, with the exception of his CQC kit. Blaster fire screeched by the COMPNOR agent's dome as he forced his body into overdrive, dashing for cover and diving behind the remains of an already crumbled and reduced wall; crimson bolts ripping through polluted air as Vostok kept his head down, the taste of copper laced over his teeth.

Distant screams crept closer through the inky black of the filthy smoke, and the operative had nothing but his wits and close-quarters defense. He would have to find a way through, and keep detection to a minimum until he could reacquire an ideal means of offense. Sweat dripped down his face and chin, his dry tongue baying for the blood of those that dared to believe they might be victorious.

He would find them, and he would teach them their place in this predicament - teach them their place among the galaxy. Only through their deaths would any semblance of peace be achieved. Civilians or not, they've now decided their stance and philosophy.

It was only a shame that it would soon be obsolete.

Rika Hiro | Jaeger Harrsk | Tulan Kor

 

[Ourania Amun]

Dantooine.​

​

Interacting at Distance with: Rynn Vizsla ​

​

They would prove themselves on this day, Clan Amun rode their speeder bikes out to meet with the monsters unleashed by the Sith Empire. Monsters that could be put down just like any hunt, with a well timed, and a well placed shot. Into the fray they went placing themselves parallel with the person they contacted. A number of five Mandalorians of Amun rode into the battle. Another three arrived via jetpack and together they chanted the song of old. ​

​

"Kote!" Ourania shouted aloud as beastial flesh was ripped apart by the war-blade of her clan-mate. "Kandosii sa ka'rota, vode an. Da'yui'u a'den mhi, vode an. Bal kote, darasuum kote jorso'ran kando a tome sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, vode an."​

​

Her shout was echoed by the others as they drew the attention of the Sithspawn and if it was the one thing they had learned while being among the Sith. It was that the Sith hated the light, more importantly the Sithspawn were generally weak to the lightside of the Force. Clan Amun had escaped the purge of the United Clans of Mandalore and they would now break the chains that the Sith Empire held them in with the light. This by uttering the words of their ancestors and drawing from Manda. ​

​

"Kandosii sa ka'rota, vode an. Da'yui'u a'den mhi, vode an. Bal kote motir ca'tra nau tracinya!"​

​

War was their song, and the beat of their words the drum and the sound of the dying Sithspawn was the chorus. ​

​

"Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a. Aruetyc runi solus cet o'r, motir ca'tra nau tracinya. Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a aruetyc runi'la trattok'o. Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, vode an!"​

​

​

 

[Lucien Dooku]

THE_PRODIGAL_SON
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
173rd. STORMTROOPER LEGION | THREE COMPANIES
HEADHUNTING THE DARK LORD
KAL'ORITSOR | JEDI ARMOR

THE SKY MIGHT FALL


The aqua glint of his lightsaber erupted through the back of an unfortunate Sith-Imperial's torso, his muffled screams being drowned out by the carnage that ensued around his vicinity. From his front stood the one at the giving end of the weapon; Lucien stared at the man, watching calmly as his form grew still by the second, dark brown eyes moving up to meet his own. The Sith-Imperial was not one of the professionals that he'd commonly do battle with across the Braxant. His clothing bordered on civilian, but the weapon falling out of his unclutched hands had been trained on him just moments prior to their face to face encounter.

It was a sad sight to behold.

His companions ruthlessly descended upon the Sith-Imperials with a bloodlust that matched their Jedi Commander's own. Buildings shattered in their wake, opening up the levied defenders of Dantooine to the shock tactics of the descending angels that graced their defenses with blade and blaster alike. The scions of Nirauan shared in their Commander's emotions, yet the savagery of their battle tactics would never mix with the emotions the men held within. These levied troops had no place in a professional battle, let alone one which placed them against the finest the New Imperials had to offer. Silence fell upon the cleared out room, its occupants and the environment itself being ripped asunder by the companions of Serenno's wayward Prince.

Luc's finger trailed upon his weapon, the plasmatic blade retracted back into the hilt once the pitiful citizen soldier had truly drawn his last breath. A hand reached behind his back, catching him in an instant and preventing his lifeless collapse to the ground. Whereas his companions had executed their job with an efficient brutality to their technique, it was their Commander who seemed to pity their foe even more than his own men. Even when the command to slaughter them was given by himself.

The body was left there, amidst the blood-stained masses that dotted the room, and the rubble that filled it before their assault. There was something about the man's eyes that spoke to him, even when his duty meant their meeting leave the other dead. Empathy returned to his hardened heart- a feeling he'd long since forgotten when battling the hated archenemy of the New Imperial. The man he'd just killed had been nothing less than a citizen of the planet, yet for reasons he could not understand, had found himself in the crosshairs of their invasion. Loyalty to the Sith-Imperials was a finicky thing-- all former denizens of their Empire knew what that truly meant. To be the lessers of the ruling class at the top. Yet heere the man had found himself, with no way out, and his betters remained meek behind the walls of their garrison.

Luc leaned over the man's lifeless form, the fallen warrior's eyes at a tilt, seemingly to have never shifted their gaze away from their killer. Luc grabbed the man's rifle and centered it on his chest, then reached for his arms and placed them across the top of the weapon as well. His command squad fell in behind their unorthodox commander, their interest piqued at his actions, but respectful of what he was doing nonetheless. He bowed his head, eyelids shutting closed as their moment of silence persisted amidst the ambience of war that existed around them.

The Myrmidons dipped their heads as well, briefly joining in with their commander's sign of respect before shifting their attention back onto securing the now empty upper levels of the building. Luc remained planted on his knee however, only raising to his feet after showing the man the modicum of respect that he and his comrades deserved. Civilians like themselves had never deserved a place in a warzone like this. It was cowardice-- the same cowardice the Sith had always displayed to him, to the New Imperial Order as a whole.

"I hope you find yourself comfortable in your next life." The words exited his lips with a soft tone, through gritting teeth and the tensing of his expression. "I promise that, soon, there will never be another world that these Sith will destine this fate to themselves. You died well."

He turned his back upon the fallen man, the commlink within his ear sounding off as he pressed his way towards the opening on the side of the building. Tavlar had given him a order, one which he planned on accomplishing just a few moments before the Imperator's voice entered his ears.

Luc replied, bending at the knees as his thrusters ignited, propelling him into the skies once more with his command squadron at his rear. His three companies would remain to assist the spearhead's efforts throughout the city. The few companions he held closest to him were all he needed to breach the walls of the Sith, and find the one whose head he wanted on a platter.

"It'll be done."

-

"Hold the fort, Lyra. I'm goin' after someone big. I can feel it in my bones-- something's coming, and I'm going to take their head before it happens."

The message dinged across the battlefield as the sight of Lucien and his command squad entered the view of the soldiers on the ground. Thrusters reached their maximum speed within an instant, thundering the fleeting warriors above the lines of combatants who did battle beneath their feet.

"I'm leaving my three companies to your command. If I don't come back-- bring my companions home."

The peak altitude of their ascension into the skies was hit by the time the second part of his message was received. Cutting a line towards the Garrison, Luc didn't stop to glance down towards the companions he'd decided to leave behind. His comms had been open to them the entire time; they knew their commander's orders were final, and that no matter the outcome it was what he wished for them to follow. The unorthodox tactics of their Jedi commander were not a new occurrence to the Myrmidons that followed him. Each one had come to understand that there typically was reasoning behind his apparent recklessness on the battlefield.

Luc and his closest companions were making a Bee Line straight for the Garrison itself; had he brought the full might of his companies, many more of his men would perish beneath the enemy's defenses, given the tactics the Myrmidons had used to achieve supreme mobility. With just under a dozen men at his rear -- and his most experienced warriors at that -- it would be a much easier task to navigate their defenses and reach exactly where he needed to go.

He could feel it within the air around him. The Dark Lord of the Sith had been present within Garang for some time, yet the eeriness that chilled him to the bone had increased in intensity as the battle raged on. It pierced him to the core, prickling the hairs upon his skin and tugging him forwards, ever closer to his objective. The intense feeling of dread called to him to continue his path forwards.

Always forwards.

For it was the creed of his Legion to move towards the darkness that encroached upon the lives of free people who deserved better than what the Sith magocracy could offer. Even now aamidst the soaring advance of Serenno's lost son and his companions, the guns of the lost had turned their barrels towards the skies in an attempt to bring down the hated traitors to the glorious Sith Empire. The same citizens who found themselves oppressed and indoctrinated into their cult of thinking, did what they felt was right. Their actions may have been misguided, but none of the New Imperials could truly blame them when faced with the corrupted beings who claimed to be their sovereigns and protectors.

Lucien broke his formation back into the individual, deftly drifting out of the arc of the incoming fire, the glare of the numerous bolts dotting the skies becoming prevalent enough to cloud his vision forwards. Masterful maneuvers guided the Myrmidons forwards-- always forwards, even when the first of his closest companions had his helmet shattered open, his uninhabited form continuing along its path even now. Lifeless as he was, more bolts rained into his body, plastering his armor with enough concentrated fire that his armor warped, his skin burning and peeling apart whilst sections of his flesh were removed altogether. Yet still his corpse continued ion its path, providing the rest of his brothers with a distraction that kept them too from ending up with the same fate as himself.

They were closer to the Garrison as a result of his death, and the sacrifice of leaving his body behind to the enemy below.

Closer-- forwards, and never backwards.

Heavier fire reigned down upon the remaining Myrmidons the closer they moved to the Garrison itself. As adept in the air as they were, it came to no surprise that another handful of their brothers were taken away from the Legion in the face of the enemy's overwhelming numerical superiority. Yet their sacrifice would not be in vein for those who remained left to continue on.

They pushed their thrusters to critical levels, soaring past the advancing demons of Task Force Axis as they ascended upwards once more, pushing themselves to higher altitudes to avoid the incoming from behind and in front of the Garrison's walls. Another of his companion's gave their lives- his jetpack failing, his body descending to the ground. The Myrmidon died in front of the advance units of Task Force Axis, leaving those who stood at his rear with yet another reason to continue on. Despite the losses of their allies, the plight of the citizens, and the deaths of their fallen brothers.


"Don't forget who we are. We fight together, we die together. Our target can sit behind these walls. We do this-- together. For those who fell, and who will fall if he remains alive."

The force whispered to him as he guided his remaining men down from the maximum altitude they'd reached. The Dark Lord had been closer to Luc than he'd ever been before; he could feel the man's presence within the force, but even worse, he could feel something more sinister within the Garrison itself. Like a moth to a flame it drew him further towards his target. Wherever one was, Luc was certain the other would remain as well.

The roar of their jetpacks once more accompanied the burst of flames that exited from behind their backs. Descending upon the Garrison with Luc at the front, they'd subvert the outside defenses entirely in favor of following their commander's lead, wherever the Jedi was taking them. Explosions were left in their wake, as the formation of New Imperials let loose a barrage of wrist-mounted rockets against unsuspected defenders, while others instead cooked off thermal detonators and let them fall upon those who blocked their way forwards.

The intensity of the darkness emanating from the Dark Lord's location drew ever closer as they soared through the Garrison, thundering around corridors whilst leaving pandemonium to be seen in their wake. A final barrier remained between him and his target, to which Luc's response was just as straightforward as the rest of the actions they'd undertaken that day. His second-in-command raised his arms, releasing a full barrage of his remaining ordinance against the wall that halted them, damaging it almost to the point of breaking through to the other side.

IT wasn't enough- yet their advance couldn't afford to be stopped. Lucien brandished Kal'oritsor from across his back, gripping the weapon with both hands as he charged with all the defiance he could muster, leaving the remainder of his men to hold off any Sith-Imperials who wished to bring their rampage to an end. The collision of flesh against stone would not, however, be the case. Despite the intentions of nature to have flattened him against the wall, the relic he now wielded would allow him to bring forth a spark of light within the darkness that consumed the garrison.

He cleaved forwards at the last moment before impact, bringing the blade down upon the surface of the wall with all the momentum he carried with him. The kinetic energy of the relic was amplified even further by the design of the weapon itself, the blade being driven against the breach that his second had made just seconds before. The wall collapsed under the kinetic impact it delivered, and through the crumbling debris he streamed through without worry of the crumbling stone overhead. Luc skidded to a halt, the jetpack's thrusters sputtering wildly after a hard hit from the debris had left it useless in the end.

He unhooked it from across his chest, tossing it to the ground and presenting his eyes forwards- settling them upon the Dark Lord who no longer could seclude himself from the New Imperials who actively defied the will of the Sith's Empire. Kal'oritsor hung lazily towards his side as he stepped forwards, locking his eyes upon the sight of the powerful Sith iin his presence. It resonated at his side, the vibrant energy pulsating through the weapon, empowering the Jedi it accepted as its owner.

He'd need it, regardless of the strength of his own willpower.

The strength of his defiance.

"Prazutis!"

His voice bellowed out, confidence brimming in his tone despite the legacy of the one he now laid his eyes upon. The tip of his sword raised in the air, pointing towards the overwhelming presence that was a Dark Lord of the Sith.

Luc wanted his head. Even if it cost him his own in the process.


ALLIES | NIO | NJO | SOM | Jaeger Harrsk | Djorn Bline | Tyrell Paxxus | Lyra Voi'kryt | Hunter Blackburn | Irveric Tavlar
ENGAGING Darth Prazutis
TO BE DETERMINED Gerwald Lechner Redd ​

Spoiler: Tags

Irveric Tavlar Djorn Bline Vostok Grauv @Tavius Muuagi Ravraa Vyshraal Dhuzgnar Szilvos Kelborn Rika Hiro Tyrell Paxxus Meko Sorrin Tulan Kor Daros Karmann Lyra Voi'kryt Sturit Goan DT-2319 Gedeon Rath Rexus Wenck Lucien Dooku Hayek Sinestra Jaeger Harrsk

​

 

[Rurik Fel]

M A N _ O F _ I R O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LORD EXECUTOR
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
Iron Skin | Lightsaber

THIS PAIN IS AN ILLUSION
​

The impulsive attack by the man of iron was thwarted and dispelled almost immediately in the face of the collective might of these scions of Light and Darkness. Their will was imposed on him with relative ease, in spite of his supposed stature as the New Order's prized slayer, the Lord Executor, the Sovereign Imperator's will and presence where he was not.

Almost immediately after he registered what happened at all, he was back on his feet, his ire fueled vision staring down the both of them even as his argent blade reluctantly returned to the hilt, fielding the words of Heavenshield even as he continued to clutch the weapon tight in his cybernetic hand.

He saw in Carnifex's eyes, that amber gaze of hatred and impurity made manifest seemed to look through him if it ever looked at him at all. Remains of nothing. Soon, Thurion was before him, his supposed virtues made manifest in the rhetoric. Ever the way of the Jedi, to dig the pit of their delusion and false virtues so deep that climbing out of it postured them higher than mortal men when in reality they reeked of their own dishonesty, their own self projection of their shortcomings and failures.

No one displayed it better than the Lion King before him.

He brokered a deal with the devil to keep his people safe. He compromised for his future.

"This battle of Light and Dark is the great lie, the self fulfilling prophecy to keep the mortal plane imprisoned in this death march of suffering and anguish. Your lies mean nothing to me when I bear the truth, order." Rurik snaps in reply to Thurion, continuing onward in response to the entirety of the Jedi's dogged rhetoric.

"But no, you are right, Thurion. We do need to band together or else more worlds will be gone. As Mandalore was broken, Dac was poisoned and the Braxant was burnt. Beckon for them to compromise, for I will not. Even now you align with Zambrano in fear of what they might do your home and your people. Because deep down, you do not trust them...to them, peace is a lie...and when all that you project is your peace...its all lies."

"You posture the Bryn'adul to be the Galactic Threat when this Elder Compact had made no attempt to garner the support of the Alliance who'd brought their fight to them in the first place, nor the New Order who had proven itself a formidable force on the Braxant Run. This is no alliance to guard against the demonic horde that is the Bryn'adul, no. This is a compact to perpetuate your lies because you Sith and Silver Jedi share the very same fears. They're afraid of what happens when the people of the Galaxy who had been dragged and beaten by the struggle of light and dark will do when they lift the veil from their eyes."

The argent blade ignites again, Rurik was still ready to make war on either side of this bloodied coin.

"Your light casts a shadow, Heavenshield. Else you would not be so keen to compromise in the face of evil. Darkness will die and the Bryn'adul will be thrown back into the lifeless void they emerged from. Now I ask of you once more, Jedi. Step aside...or do what must be done. Whether you do or not...I certainly will." Rurik finishes before he begins to conjure a burst of Force power in his organic hand, forcing the projection of energy in the direction of Thurion, nothing near what it would take to harm him, only a slight enough in the hopes of jostling him to allow the clear path toward the demon, Zambrano.

From there, he surges toward the Zambrano and wrenches his organic hand up once more, splaying his fingers before closing them into a fist once more, projecting his focus into the demented crown clasped around his head. Willing the Force in his grip, he aims to crush the helm around his skull to shatter his focus as he swipes at him with the silver blade in his opposite hand.

THE UNTHINKABLE
Carnifex | Thurion Heavenshield

THE WILLING
Oceiros Sunstrider
​

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | SOM | Jin Kyrel | Hans Rennagen
ENEMIES | TSE | THE ELDER COMPACT | Arctus Silmar | Darth Vulcanus

 

[Djorn Bline]

D I A M O N D _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
501ST STORMTROOPER LEGION
71ST GHOST VIPERS | PYTHON COMPANY
TASK FORCE 'AXIS'
ARMOR | RIFLE | PISTOL | MELEE | GRENADES

W E _ A T T A C K​

<"Snake, this is Hellion. We are on the move from eastward - provide overwatch. We need the advance secure and the rendezvous point cleared.">

<“Copy, Hellion. It’ll be a walk in the park for you and your guys.”>

Some Vipers from Cobra all trained their scopes exactly where Jaeger requested support while the others maintained support where Irveric needed it.

<“Sir,”> Sergeant Forn approached Djorn, most likely to relay to him what he was ordered to to.

<“Sergeant, you did what I asked?”>

<“Yes, sir. I got a hold of the other three platoon leaders. Lieutenant Kurt and the majority his platoon are closest to us, specifically Squads Copperhead and Cottonmouth. Lieutenant Wes and his forces are suffering casualties, hardly has a platoon and is currently engaging S-IMPS about seventy meters southwest of us. Lieutenant Forrn and his platoon are fifty meters west of us, just got out of an engagement with some minor casualties.”>

If he had to take a guess, he probably lost less than a third of the company from this Operation. More bricks in the wall; more names in the wind; more ashes to bury. Numbers that stacked indefinitely with every thread of time being spun. They gave it all to defy the tyrannous stars of the Sith, to break the chains of oppression the Dark Masters threatened to bound the Galaxy.

And these insufferable odds they faced would only meet the stubborn stance of Iron defiance.

Good.

<”Tell Forrn and Kurt to reach up to Point Aurek, double time. We’ve been prolonging too much damn time on rejoining the others. Make sure Wes gets the message he can bite the dust or move out from wherever he is; he should know better than that.”>

<“Acknowledged, Snake.”>

<“I’m taking five Cobras with me, Sergeant. Continue giving overwatch support to the Hellion and Enigma and if some S-IMP bastards wanna take this, you make sure they die for it. You give no quarter to anyone pointing a blaster at you, get it?”>

<“Yes, sir. I can do that.”>

Good.

Five Cobras were quickly selected by Snake, the squad rushed out of the building and out again into the streets of Garang. Under no circumstance were they to engage any group larger than their own. They could take quick kills if they needed to, but that was all they were limited to. The advancement towards the Garrison was dire and every man counted for it to be successful.

<"All Axis callsigns, it's time to go. All form up on Aurek. We're hitting the garrison now. ">

<“Copy, Enigma. I’m en route to your position with reinforcements.”>

The announcement from Irveric urged them to sprint to the resolution of Axis’ operation. Through the alleyways and streets, they hurried and their mobility assured them quick egreses from conflict.

And there it was: Libra Gold. The heart of the beast. Fortified by two repulsortanks that were destroyed by Irveric and the men of the 501st in the same street they joined. Shattered metal and fire consumed its remaining hulk, giving reprieve for them to close the distance between themselves and their objective. Here they would find the corrupt generals and Sith that hid behind the enslaved minds and hearts at their disposal. Typical fashion for these fiends; they would use and do anything in order to complete control over their incorrigible power that they selfishly possessed. They could preach as much lies as they wanted to of being champions of the people, providing the treasures of heaven to their subjects. Deceit to indoctrinate the weak and gullible, and have them be as expendable puppets to cater to their whims. The meat grinder of a battle here in the streets of Garang only proved how little the Sith cared for its subjects as they were willing to use them as meat shields and barriers to their own advantage. Effective, but completely amoral.

A fire burned in his soul as Snake charged up to the outer wall of Libra Gold, with his squad of Vipers in tow. Ascension cables were ready and launched at the fortifications of the compound, scaling it only to reach the height before hurdling over the wall. There he saw Irveric and two cobalt Stormtroopers taking cover from a foe of different colors: violet; the Confederacy. Not a surprise for his eyes, but one he’d welcome with the end of his barrel. “Paladins” of democracy and freedom only to ally with the decadence of the Sith, making a clear statement that those suffered by the oppression of the Sith were null to their ears.

Without thinking Snake aimed his rifle at the Dauntless Commandos, then diving for cover near Irveric before exposing himself too long for the enemy to get a precise shot on him.

<“Kept you waiting, huh,”> directing his words to the Imperator before continuing, <“Hellion should be here soon, my men were providing overwatch support for him. Where the hell is Patriarch?”>

Two down, two more to go before continuing their approach.


ALLIES | NIO | NJO | SOM | Irveric Tavlar | Jaeger Harrsk | Tyrell Paxxus | Lyra Voi'kryt | Hunter Blackburn | Ravraa Vyshraal | Rika Hiro | Tulan Kor | Vostok Grauv | Rexus Wenck | Gedeon Rath
ENEMIES | TSE | THE ELDER COMPACT | Darth Prazutis | Taiia Mataan | Luna Terrik | Aurelion Nova | Ulrich | Gerwald Lechner | OPEN

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Spoiler

Wreath of the Sovereign, Lightsabre Pike, Armour + SI-PES

Sakadi Marathi Sinvala Auteme

Perhaps there was a sliver of doubt in Joycelyn’s mind.

Why had she never taken her darth moniker as her primary name and title? Why did she spend so much time currying the favour of the public and the military? Why did she do what had been promised? After all, Sith could lie and cheat all they wished so long as the Empire was served. Or so some would say. Why would she spare her enemies?

Yes, perhaps there was some doubt.

As Joycelyn rushed toward the young Jedi, she was vaguely aware of the mobile armour working itself their way. She caught in her periphery that Sakadi sheared through the weapons of her citizens. That fuelled the quiet rage in her. This enemy in front of her, it looked unarmed. But no Jedi is unarmed. Their ally is the Force, and that is a mighty ally indeed. Sakadi had never agreed to Joycelyn’s terms.

Could she be counted an ally, or was she merely an enemy waiting to happen?

She thought the latter to be more likely.

-

The group of red-helmeted SICA militia skid to a halt when they saw the sabre fly past them, it was a scare, but they stayed together. The tank, however. was an issue. Rather than run at it, they slipped into the alleyways on the side, using the buildings as their shield and put their cheap weapons to good use.

The people of Dantooine did not like being invaded.

The elderly man in the hoverchair shooed his grandchildren away as he threw away the missile launcher. “Shoo kids! Into the hatch. They’re comin’!” “But ‘Pa!” One of the kids pointed at the Empress as she bore down against the Jedi. “I said git!” The kids turned to run, the youngest stopped for a second, then cursed under his breath and slipped down through the trap-door with the others. The old man looked at his wife and smiled. “If only he could see us now ‘Ma.” His wife, the former staff sergeant, smiled then wiped a tear off her husband’s cheek before it could disappear into his salt-and-pepper mass of a beard. “He is watching. And they will pay for what they did.” He nodded, his lips disappearing into his massive moustache. “‘Kuqochucilna khi Bastion’ sá idla.”

-

Auteme’s pressure on Joycelyn’s mind and heart met a fierce resistance from her innate protection against being influenced. However, she also found the Sith Empress in a compromised position. She wanted to protect her citizens, but also wanted to destroy her opponents. She wanted to crush Auteme and Sakadi alike, but had to keep herself restrained. Her darkness was like a chained vornskr, waiting in the deep recesses of her soul.

Joycelyn’s barrelling assault slowed to a walk. Her eyes stared down at the Jedi without blinking, without wavering. The dust and smoke of the war whirled away from her as her heart pumped hard in her chest and her jaw clenched.

“Then you came to the wrong place, jedi” She spat the word with clear disdain “This world is not for you to roam, and if you have thrown your lot in with my enemy, then you are my enemy as well.”

She did not stop, did not halt, but her walk took her all the way up to Auteme. Standing as if face to face, she craned her neck to look down at the Jedi Knight. Only the force of Auteme’s persuasion kept her from attempting to crush her then and there, and the vornskr was thrashing against its bondage.

Her right fist clenched so tight the glove creaked and the veins in her arm began to bulge. She had yet to blink, yet to waver, yet to break free.

 

[The Amalgam]

The Amalgam had found herself under attack from two well trained Jedi. These were not slouches. Their attacks were fast and expertly directed in a tandem stategy that forced The SithSpawn on the defensive, and this time she really did have to block their attacks, because they came fast and vicious. One used Ataru, the other, Makashi.

As the purple blaze died down the Amalgam was pushed backward by the relentless assault. The Jedi were smart enough to never stay in one place too long, and to use power attacks whenever possible. The Dark Side of the slaughter enhanced her stamina, allowing her to sustain her defense but they both attacked too fast and too powerfully for even her to mount a retaliatory offense.

The Amalgam was driven to one knee as she spun her purple staff above her in increasingly heavy attacks. Despite having the Force Rage ability she was hesitant to call on it...yes, she would become supremely strong...but for a short period. She was too far from her ship, which contained her spare bodies, and with so much effort being put into a defense she knew would eventually falter if things remained as they are, she couldn't focus properly to speak her witchcraft.

There is something to be said for spam attacks. In spite of inducing frothing rage to a good number of players in holonet fighting games (The Amalgam had the entire District Fighter Alpha Deluxe Beta Gamma Final Edition Collection Anthology with all the DLC for each yet had never won a single online match due to this very issue.) , the tactic was still used.

Oddly, this moment brought her to an old memory...albeit one brought up by deep within, through the eyes of another...

'Ursula Sandraven' observed her Padawan Laertia Io, not realizing a demon within also observed.

The Monstrosity, hidden in the guise of a Purple Skinned Twi'lek in white training robes watched at a distance as her student kneeled in the center of the chamber, with a blindfold. Her hand was on her rusty looking Lightsaber, which she held in a two handed grip in front of her, unactivated. She was in gray training robes. She was barely nineteen at this point. Her raven black hair long and in a tight set of Princess Leia style buns. She looked adorable to the Monster.

"So far..." Ursula spoke behind a false mirror "Your Form One has allowed you to survive one or two Sith in a fight. Now comes a real test of how much you have advanced. You have triumphed over training droids at their highest setting. Nothing will help you at this point but the real thing. Their blades are live..." Ursula explained as doors behind her slid upward.

Four Sith Lords stepped out, red blades going active instantly. Fully armed, Fully Armored. The best duelists Ursula could capture alive, no neural disruptors no drugs. Nothing restrained their power.

"May the Force be with you, Padawan..." she and the demon within said.

The first one, a giant brute of a Zabrak with brown and white tattoos armed with a long handled lightsaber immediately tried to strike her down in the confined space, and Laertia rolled out of the way of a slice that would have beheaded her, forced to suddenly block a few concentrated streams of lightning from another, only to start gasping, calling on the Force to shield herself as another tried to strangle her, though all that meant was that she could barely take in air, as she belatedly blocked the furious slash attacks of a staff using Sith who attacked without honor or mercy, forcing her to start defending herself, from two different angles as the first and third began attacking her also, one trying to coax the horrors from her subconscious and use it against her even as he slammed his blade violently against hers.

Her student was caught in a rock and a hard place, unable to retaliate, only defend against the ruthless onslaught, strength rapidly failing.

Ursula grew concerned. Her hand started to inch towards the knockout gas distribution button. Only for the Monster she didn't know was inside to restrain her. Their mutual prodigy would never truly soar like a bird unless there was no safety net.

The Monster within adored her, but Laertia at this stage of her training and life had to be shown no mercy. She wouldn't receive any for the sort of enemies she would face.

You can do it little one. Go on. Dig deeeeeep...the Monster hiding in Ursula's mind hissed.

To the monster's delight, Laertia summoned the will to fight off the choke attempts, excercising control and patience, turning aside their attacks. But it was clear there would be no victory without sacrifice on her part.

Laertia, still blinded, sacrificed some of her defense, leaving her left arm open for a burn scar from the tip of a blade that barely grazed it as she used the partial sacrifice of her defense to execute a more deadly attack, that beheaded the largest one. The Monster swelled on the inside with affection.

Oh...if only it could escape this lie it had made of itself...

One of her arms useless, Laertia was forced to a one handed defense though she used the unexpected stance shift to help her better catch lightning fired from the more distant mage type, swatting the staff blade out of another attacker's hands, then beheading them.

Two left. The Monster within made Ursula giggle behind the false window in delight...

Laertia gave a flourish of her blade...

The last two attacked furiously. Because her defense had already suffered, Laertia was forced to be more cautious, baiting them into traps by faking a lapse in defense or active feints. She still got a good nick on her leg and waist by the time she finally beheaded both...


The Amalgam snapped out of her reverie, snarling as she made an unwanted sacrifice.

She waited until her defense lapsed, moving out of a killing blow but not quite as she was sliced a bit on the side, spilling white blood and making her let out a pig like metallic screech of pain...

But the other was still executing his previous strategy. And she used all her might and her free uninjured arm to turn it aside and cut the man down wirh a deadly spin, leaving the remaining attacker to run for his life.

She barely sensed the threat of Zenobia Hahn until she was literally about to trample.

She dodged, but her face clipped the horse at high speed, shearing some off and displaying white blood and muscle tissue bound to her skull. She was knocked for a loop, dizzy as she sprang up, shaking her head, not able to focus her powers fully at the moment.

She snarled, sending a rope of lightning at the fool girl's horse, hoping she could nail it...at this distance, her odds were good, but even the smallest rodent had evaded her lightning as well...

 

[Tulan Kor]

​

ENEMIES | TSE | ELDER COMPACT | Darth Prazutis | Ulrich | Luna Terrik | Gerwald Lechner | Redd | Frank Sterling | Gnox the Insatiable



ALLIES | NIO | NJO | SOM | Jaeger Harrsk | Tyrell Paxxus | Djorn Bline | Tulan Kor | Rika Hiro | Lyra Voi'kryt | Tavius Muuaji | Daros Karmann | Sturit Goan | Rynn Vizsla | Ravraa Vyshraal


Like the darkness at dawn-



The situation at Point Aurek was one of desperate measures, forlorn hope, and violence.

Demon Company knew what it was going to take to breach the enemy position. The Sniper teams that Tulan had dispatched merely confirmed their suspicions. They were relieved in place by other Imperial Units- and they returned to the street, converging with Demon Company. Tulan pulled in his squad leaders, commanders, and platoon Sergeants. Everyone else held security, occasionally popping off a few rounds to take down an insurgent civilian or one of the Sith troopers.

Tulan peeled off his helmet, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, taking off his eye protection.

"There comes a time, when we must ask what are we willing to sacrifice, gentlemen."

They stood silent as the grave, the realization of what he was asking washing over them.

"We all have served under different flags, in Dorn, in the Alliance, some of you are former Sith- like me, yourselves. We are facing insurmountable odds, assaulting that position- the enemy is dug in, and the Imperial losses will be great- if we don't act quickly. Prepare your squads for an assault on the enemy position."

He breathed in deeply, turning away, marching towards Jaeger Harrsk and the rest of the command staff, pulling his helmet back on, adjusting his headset to speak into the microphone near his cheek towards High Command, padding away at the radio controls on his chest to switch to the command channel.

"Command, Demon Company in position- ready to push when you are."

He crouched near the COMPNOR agent, his rifle resting against his shoulder, while he continually scanned the rooftops- the THWACK sound of Demon Company's suppressed rifle keeping the enemy at bay. He adjusted his microphone, turning it away from his cheek to speak to Jaeger. His voice changed- Tulan was speaking to him in a friendly tone, despite everything that happened.

Friendly as they could be, at least.

"We have enough supplies and ammo for this, but beyond that we're gonna need to establish a resupply, or scavenge from the enemy. The enemy's dug in deep, man- it ain't gonna be easy, no way in hell. You got a breach point yet? My scouts ID'd two, maybe three. High risk, all of 'em."

He breathed in deeply, looking at the scars on the Agent's face.

Tulan's eyes showed guilt, before he pushed the emotions aside, knowing that it was his fault- but those thoughts weren't for now, not yet. Not now.

 

[Naier Rambeigh]

OOC THREAD
T H E _ W A R _ O F _ D E F I A N C E
B A T T L E_I N_O R B I T
SILENT_ACCEPTANCE

Allies
Okkeus Dainlei | Josiah Navollious | Var Koon | Grand Admiral Rausgeber | Kormov Alten

Hostile Combatants
Thaelius Ordo | Taeli Raaf | Voph | Kiff Brayde | Verin Oldo | Vanessa Vantai | Sith Vessels
​

"Well you heard the command from the Admiral- systems, prime our Petards and raise our hangar crew's alertness to combat ready. All flight wings prepare to intercept, hook our sensor readings to theirs." Commodore Naier barked to his deck as he turned around from the communications table. He opened his mouth for his second set of orders when a flight of starfighters flew dangerously close to the bridge's observation deck- for a split second, he accepted his death. The worse he got from that ordeal was a slight outbreak of cold sweat and a flip off from a bunch of daredevils that he was going to have reprimanded at the very least once they made it out of this battle alive, if not their rank. He shook his head and broke out his smoking pipe- unusually, he also filled it with tobacco (the real deal) and lit it in a practiced motion of many years of experience.

"Are you alright sir?" Simone asked from his left, covering the communications horn with her hands. "Any other orders?" He took a few hard puffs of his smoking pipe, letting the thick richness of nicotine flow through his veins. That latest stunt did not help his already frayed nerves. "Navigations, bring us to two-thirds speed and correct our course with the Admiral's; let's not outrun the rest of our fleet."

"Two-thirds speed, course correction, aye!" cried the navigations lieutenant, who began to bark his own set of orders to the ensigns beneath him. Every one of the officers aboard his ship had served him through thick and thin, through excitement and boredom- from his point of view as an officer of the Imperial Navy, they were far from the best. But he appreciated their loyalty to him and his methods.

A sudden burst of energy from one of the consoles picked up his attention, but his younger XO was faster than him- "Sensors, report!" her thin voice barked. Naier nodded at her authoritativeness, but his grip tightened when the lieutenant gave his report.

"We've picked up new signatures in system- tracking Sith signatures all across the board!"

Naier walked down to the console in a hurry, pushing an orderly out of the way to confirm the reports by himself. Simone followed after him, peering over his shoulders. Her jaw dropped.

Lt. Commander Eric's face flashed across the communications table, contorted in a mix of fear and anger. "Commodore, we are heavily outnumbered and outgunned." He spoke, his emotions barely constrained. Naier blinked, watching as the signatures converge to formations onscreen like tiny worker ants. He did the mathematics silently in his mind, running between the various profiles of ships he could recognize, and estimating that which he did not. He got his first number in a thirty seconds. He calculated again, running against potential signature errors and miscalculations. Both numbers verified Eric's harried appearance - nearly 140km worth of ships, stern to stern. They had more cruisers than Autumn had, and an SSD to boot. It was a force tally that sent chills down his spine.

Clutching the his pipe in a death grip, Naier walked up to the holodeck and faced his subordinate. He had nothing to say to him for a full minute, much to Eric's bewilderment.

Eventually he nodded. "We are." said the Commodore, puffing. He did not have to raise his voice for everyone in the room to feel the icy thick tension clinging onto the back of their necks. Whispers were traded between one station to another as Eric raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Well sir? Shouldn't we turn back then?"

Naier contemplated, for the briefest of moments, what kind of life he'd live with Marlene if he managed to survive the battle a coward. He was sure he would be alive- perhaps dishonorably discharged. He had already lost the patronage of his parents, so he wasn't too overly concerned with his social status. It could be a fulfilling life, nevertheless. Pick up a job at an accountancy firm, have children- live to a ripe old age and chuckle that he ever thought of dying honorably in combat.

He was sure of it, and more. But here and now, as his senses delivered the emotions in the room and as his eyes wandered over to the sensor station crew, all eyes on him- Naier felt that such a life wasn't for him. Years of consistent duty clutched down on his conscience, refusing to let go. "We commit. Your suggestion is duly noted, Lt Commander."

Eric's face sagged in disbelief. "It's a suicide mission, Autumn Division won't survive." He paused to swallow. "I won't survive."

Naier shrugged, surprised at his nonchalant behaviour at all of this. He supposed, after serving his whole life in the Navy and the shock of his rapid promotion, he had come to terms with life as a sailor. His life was cheap. Their lives were all cheap. But the things they paid for with their lives were priceless. Friends, families, loved ones and even the prospect of a safe, secure tomorrow. Compared to his life of rejection and bitter commitment, saved by the sliver of affection from his fiancé, at least this would have been more meaningful. "We were all briefed. We knew the risks. I only ask that you stand by me and do your duty. And we do what we must, suffer what we can, for those that we cherish and swore to protect."

He paused and eyed the rest of his crew silently. "Every one of you."

No one said a thing. Then, a Zabrak officer lowered his tablet and raised his hand in salute. One by one, from the lowliest ranking ensign to his executive officer standing by his side raised their hand in salute. Even the mouse droid that he had kicked across the room once seemed to stop its work for a brief moment, as if to mimic the show of its genuine robotic loyalty. Naier felt something in his chest warm up.

Eric stammered helplessly until something inside him must have clicked. His expressions changed to his same, scowling look. Without saying anything, he snapped to salute with fire in his eyes. The Commodore raised his own hand and saluted him, the crew and the space before them and the enemy. Communications were soon cut off, and Naier lowered his hand.

The heartwarming air was quickly cut short when sensor station barked out, "Weapons signatures coming in from hostile contact! Shots not vectored to hit us sir, they're meant for our allies."

"Autumn, loosen formation!" Naier called out his orders in response. If the enemy were prepared to sling shots at them as they maneuvered into position, then he had to preserve what few ships he had before making contact. His orders sent a surge of energy to the bridge, and all around voices were calling out orders, numbers and protocols between one another. "XO, pass the word to Captain Alten- I want his division to bring up our rear on fighter interdiction duty. Warn stern guns, we don't want to hit our own allies."

"Aye aye!" Simone snapped to attention and quickly strode off to the communications console. He could hear her voice- it had an air of calm he was beginning to appreciate from her as she grew as an officer of the fleet. "NIV Summer to NIV Starglow, Summer to Starglow, come in- do you read?" There was a momentary silence until a crackling voice replied from the other end. Alten's communications officer spoke up.

"This is Starglow, we read you. Proceed, over."

"Starglow, orders from the Commodore: correct your formation along these coordinates. Bring up our stern and stick close, over."

"Understood; new orders, shift Echo Division to rear of Verenga- affirm, over?"

"Affirm, Starglow. Summer, over and out." The commodore's orders carried out, Commander Simone quickly reported her task clear to Naier, who immediately barked out his next set of orders to the bridge. "Guns, hold fire on my go- authorization command 'Roller'. Comms, pass that order to the rest of Autumn and Echo- hold guns until my say so!"

"Hold guns for 'Roller', aye aye!" cried the crewman. "Navigator, continue course. XO, full speed ahead, prepare for flank on my go- authorization command 'Thunder'."

Simone's voice cried out as she hammered in the commands on her console. "Ship, full speed ahead!" she cried out, to the chorus of 'aye ayes' that broke out into several whispered tones as crewmen and women coordinated their workflow. One of the lieutenants in charge of engineering spoke up from the hub of activity beneath Naier. "Chief Engineer reports reactors stable, flank speed ready on your go!"

"Good!" Naier replied, moving down from the deck. His legs were jumpy, full of pent up energy. He moved slowly, from one console to another, leaning in to check the everyday man's work in silence. Now and then he would correct a number or double check with the station watch to make sure everyone knew their roles. Satisfied that his bridge was working without any potential for mistakes, he moved to the observation deck, joined soon with Commander Simone who gave her update.

He nodded and continued to puff in silence. If he tuned out all the voices present in the room and kept his eyes forward, it was almost surreal. Even now, as his lance steadily cruised towards the enemy, space never looked so beautiful. "Do you have any regrets, Commander?"

Simone's façade of confidence started to tremble around her superior. She had known him the longest out of everyone in the room, from the time he first took command of a picket runner in the frontier reaches of space. She was a kindred spirit, in her own way, which endeared herself to him. Like Marlene once said- a nervous puppy. "A little."

The two of them kept quiet, standing there on the deck. "A lot." She finally admitted. "I never got the chance to say good bye to my son."

He nodded in sympathy. "Marlene told me to come home. I never told her our odds, she never wanted to hear them."

And thus Autumn Division moved, the tip of the Imperial spear towards the enemy, silently accepting its death.

---

---

Fleet Roster Composition​

---

---

Autumn Division - 3rd Fleet

Vessel	Description	Status	Commander
NIV Inexorable Valediction of Summer​	- Cuirassier-class Cruiser	- Fully crewed, active	Naier Rambeigh​
NIV Perchance to Dream​	- Escolta-class Frigate	- Fully crewed, active	Commander Morano Carasonne, [NPC]​
NIV Lack of Subtlety​	- Escolta-class Frigate	- Fully crewed, active	Commander Serena Libertam, [NPC]​
NIV Lonely Already​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Fully crewed, active	Lt. Commander Salskey Hangzao, [NPC]​
NIV Poor Deliverance​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Fully crewed, active	Lt. Commander Ciroix Amende, [NPC]​
NIV Galaxy Bride​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Fully crewed, active	Lt. Commander Holly Zabene, [NPC]​
NIV Gargantuan Rooster​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Fully crewed, active	Lt. Commander Eric Bentham, [NPC]​
NIV Fraudulent Fighter​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Fully crewed, active	Lt. Commander Grenn Elwine, [NPC]​
NIV Antagonizing Result​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Fully crewed, active	Lt. Commander Maia DeRusse, [NPC]​
NIV Consolation Prize​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Fully crewed, active	Lt. Commander Ferierre Montague, [NPC]​
NIV Pleasant Ambiguity​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Fully crewed, active	Lt. Commander Jean Raulos, [NPC]​

---

---

 

[Kormov Alten]

OOC THREAD

BATTLE IN ORBIT

Allies
Okkeus Dainlei | Josiah Navollious | Var Koon | Grand Admiral Rausgeber | Naier Rambeigh

Hostile Combatants
Thaelius Ordo | Taeli Raaf | Voph | Kiff Brayde | Verin Oldo | Vanessa Vantai | Sith Vessels

From Starglow's bridge, Kormov got a sinking feeling. Still underway to the right of Autumn Division's formation, the Starglow's sensors had just picked up a mass of enemy ships coming out of Hyperspace. And these aren't even linked to the Grand Admiral's ship yet. This Corvette doesn't have half the picture, and we're already more then matched.

"Sensor officer Dansk, notify me once you have the full picture from the Grand Admiral's ship. In the meantime, bring our team to full-"

The sensor console lit up, and Dansk's eyes switched from Kormov to the console, staring intently. A look of disbelief came across Dansk's face, a look Kormov hadn't seen in any of their previous rotations facing off against pirates or small Sith groups in the backwaters of other planets. Kormov waited intently for his report, knowing just from Dansk's reaction it would bring no good news.

"Reporting new ships fresh out of hyperspace, Captain. Many more then we had anticipated." And we had anticipated a lot. Kormov strolled over to the console, Wessley shortly behind him. Mortified silence followed as they stared into the console. Again, Wessley broke it. "Well Kormov, these are odds we definitely haven't faced before." As much as Kormov hated to admit it, he was right. The Captain slowly willed himself back to the bridge, allowing himself a moment of silence to think about their advanced formation and the enemies' fleet. This may well be hopeless, unless our Petards have fighter coverage long enough to make it to their targets... Even then...

Kormov wasn't about to defect to the Sith, so he mused quietly to himself about his chances of making it to an escape pod before the Starglow was vaporized. Not likely, Kormov thought, but the idea was funny to him in a macabre sort of way. Down with my ship, I suppose. Kormov turned to the bridge to finish his address, but noticed Raya, his comm officer, raise her hand. She only did that when she was receiving a communique from a superior's ship. Likely it was Commodore Naier. Kormov paused and waited for Raya.

"This is Starglow, proceed, over." The crew also stopped their chatter, noticing Raya's the raised hand. "Understood; new orders, shift Echo Division to rear of Verenga- affirm, over?" Raya nodded, and repeated to Kormov and the rest of the crew what she had just heard. She paused again. "Understood, this is Starglow again. Guns silent until Commodores signal- affirm, over?" Raya nodded again. "Commodore is ordering Echo Division to the rear of Autumn Division, fighter interdiction duty. Guns silent till Commodores say so."

That was generous of the Commodore, who likely knew Echo Division would screen out much of the fire from any ships to their starboard side. "Very well then Raya, transmit that message and coordinate adjustments to the other ships of Echo Division for fighter interdiction duty, as well as to wait for either the Commodore or myself to issue the command to fire at will."

As Raya rattled off rapid commands and Echo Division realigned themselves near the rear of the Verenga formation, Kormov gave his silent thanks to the Commodore. It didn't much improve anyone in the vanguards odds, but it certainly prolonged Echo Division's life. We'll be the last of the first to die. Looking at his staff's expressions, he could tell some of them agreed. Kormov also had heard of some of the NIO's victories against overwhelming force, and reminded himself this was the very same navy. There might be hope yet.

---

---

Fleet Roster Composition

---

---

Echo Division - 3rd Fleet

Vessel	Description	Status	Commander
NIV Iberta	- Gurkah-class Cruiser	- Fully crewed, active	Lt Commander Salvador Nesse, [NPC]
NIV Salador's Ransom	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Fully crewed, active	Lt Commander Rickard Casva, [NPC]
NIV Fiori	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Fully crewed, active	Lt Commander Richter Eckberg, [NPC]
NIV Starglow	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Fully crewed, active	Captain Korvo Alten [USER]

---

---

 

[Ryv]

S W O R D _ O F _ T H E _ J E D I
GALACTIC ALLIANCE
NEW JEDI ORDER
JEDI-IMPERIAL JOINT STRIKE TEAM
ARMOR | LIGHTSABER

I AM FUELED BY ALL FORMS OF FAILURE​

With nothing to say as she spoke, Ryv maintained his silent vigil. His breathing even and controlled. The Force encircled him in a protective bubble that warned of each threat as it entered within his zone of control. His body shifted inches to the right to avoid a bolt meant to rip his head from his shoulders. Resolve flashed in a sweeping arc in front of him, turning aside another two shots from their unknown source. Jedi and Imperial Knights did not give ground as they continued their push towards the Enclave, though some looked on in astonishment at the Sword and his position on the battlefield.

"Do I think the Silver Jedi can fight off the Bryn'adul and the Sith?" Ryv repeated the question back at her. "No, no, of course not. But they aren't alone. They've never been alone. We were there for them at Kintan to help turn the tides and defeat the Sith. Yurb too. The New Jedi Order, beside the Galactic alliance, fought side-by-side with their forces then. I don't want to see the Concord's territory burn or their people suffer. But it isn't the Sith that will determine the outcome. They are weak, traitorous beings. When the New Imperial Order first took root on their borders, outgunned by the behemoth of an Empire, the Sith still could not claw victory from their enemies."

Some of the nearby chaos faltered as Ryv spoke. Those closest to the engagement turned to listen, his voice soothing-- an even tone upon a tumultuous battlefield.

"Refugees? The Core has opened the way for refugees fleeing from the Sith and the Bryn'adul. Tython was declared a sanctuary for any who needed it. Other planets have and will continue to accept those in need. We've fought along the Concord and Bryn'adul borders. We've ferried away refugees, slowed their ceaseless crawl, and saved as many lives as we can long before the supposed Elder Compact even considered these genocidal aliens worth note. I've been fighting that battle for the last five years of my life, Laertia. But you wouldn't know that. You've been so keen on telling us why we're wrong or how we're religious zealots with only our interests in mind. Yet, we've done more to contain this threat than the Sith, Confederacy, and Concord combined."

"In your questioning, you've already stumbled upon a discrepancy in the Elder Compac's logic. You say sure, we'd have the New Imperial Order and the Galactic alliance. And I will say this, both would face the threat the Drael posed to the galaxy. So, why did the Compact not invite either of them or the First Order to the table? If this is really the galactic threat they've claimed, would they not want three immense powers in the galaxy to help end it? I know I would."

"It's funny, isn't it?" Ryv's smirk grew larger. "Two galactic powers under the control of the Sith would not invite three others who are familiar with their machinations. They knew they couldn't manipulate them any longer—the staunch New Jedi Order, the stalwart Imperial. These maneuverings have all been measured, calculated, and enshrouded in the Dark Side. The Silver Jedi are not what they once were. They've grown complacent in their comfort, surrounded by friends and admirers within the Compact's territory. They've grown blind to the Dark Side's tricks. And if the Compact's Jedi cannot see the mist that slowly wounds its way around their senators, then those very same senators will be turned against the cause they're sworn to uphold."

"This has all been a ploy by the Elder Compact to weaken those who would stand against the Sith. The Concord has led innocents into a war they've otherwise ignored for years. These innocents now die in place of Confederate battle droids and Sith-Imperial loyalists. Their deaths provide the Sith time to draw back, recuperate, and strengthen their hold on the Outer Rim. And it's people like you, who have only the best intentions for the galaxy, who make the best tools. You've killed so many in your crusade to prove yourself the better. You lift your blade against us to fight for a weakened Sith here on Dantooine...."

"Why are you and the Confederates not just reinforcing the Sith Empire or Concord's border? Wouldn't that save more lives?"

Ryv slowly shook his head. "This isn't about that, though, is it? It runs much deeper and far darker than that. Please, I beg you, open your heart to the Force, and see the truth."

ALLIES | NIO | NJO |
ENEMIES | TSE | ELDER COMPACT | Laertia Io

 

[Darth Strosius]

LOCATION: On the streets of Garang
OBJECTIVE: Defend Garang and its people from the enemy
EQUIPMENT: Lightsabre
ALLIES: TSE / ELDER COMPACT / Telis Taharin-Zambrano
ENEMIES: NIO / NJO
---------------------------------

Blaster fire hit and scorched the ground around Alisteri as he ducked, dove, and dodged into or around whatever cover he could find on the open street. He found himself relying on vehicles and whatever parts of a building that he could use for cover, muttering a curse under his breath as a volley of fire nearly took his head off.

The new bit of cover that he was hiding behind happened to be a rather sturdy little wall, probably the outside dining area of some restaurant if he had to guess.

One minute the acolyte had been little more than a crossing guard for the civilians and the next thing he knew he had to deflect incoming shots. He had gone towards the edges of the city, closer to the walls, to make sure that no one had gotten left behind in the chaos. Sure enough he had stumbled upon a small group of a couple families...as well as two squads of NIO Stormtroopers attempting to coax them out of their hiding spot.

Long story short, he was now distracting said squads of Stormtroopers whilst the citizens were retreating deeper into the city.

Thankfully there was plenty of things to use as cover from the onslaught of fire coming his way. He growled as another shot hit close to his head, his lightsaber gripped tightly in his left hand.

He had managed to cut down two of the troopers already, one by surprise in the beginning and another by deflecting his own shot back at him. Still, he was outnumbered and the Stormtroopers were closing in on him.

The acolyte sprung from his cover, sprinting towards the nearest vehicle as he deflected the fire following his movements. All he had to do was stall them, but he really wanted to kill them by now. They were heathens after all, defilers that wanted to take this planet for their own. That just wouldn't do in his eyes.

 

[Auteme]

Joycelyn Zambrano Sakadi Marathi Sinvala | Kenth Ordo Sor-Jan Xantha ​

While it'd been a long time since she'd felt it, as the Empress came closer it gave separation between Auteme's mind and the Force. Her supernatural senses told her to stay calm, for as intimidating as the woman was, she wouldn't attack. Not yet. Auteme's mind, on the other hand, was filled with high-pitched screaming even as she stayed rooted in place.

Her eyes met the Empress's; for a brief moment she understood why the New Imperial Order often spoke of the will of defiance. Against such a withering gaze and such power it was impossible to stand without defiance. So defiant she stood. The Empress spoke an idle threat and clenched her fist. Auteme just stared at her evenly. The silence hung for a long few seconds; long enough for the proverbial momentum to swing back in her favour. She didn't yell. She wasn't angry, or even trying to provoke. But her words were cutting -- spend enough time around Adhira Chandra and they were bound to be.

"I can hear the hate in your voice," she said. "Your disdain. Jedi. What a horrible word. A horrible people, no?

"And yet here you are acting like one."

There was no attempt to reach into her mind or heart. Words were enough. "Here you are, refusing to strike first at someone you believe to be your enemy. Here you are, protecting others. Here you are, allied with a Jedi yourself."

Auteme watched the woman's reaction closely. In the back of her mind she wondered if looking up so long would strain her neck.

"I have no intention of fighting you, but I came here with the intent to save lives. What you've done here -- keeping your people in whatever shelter they can find -- is irresponsible and misguided. They should've been evacuated long ago.

"I know you opened this orphanage, and I believe that you do care about the children inside. I will take them out of harm's way, out of the city. If the New Imperials are forced back, I will bring the children back. But here, even under your protection, they are in danger. No matter how careful you and the New Imperials are, this is a battlefield and there is no safe place within." It was a test of sorts. She did not know the Empress well, but if the woman could swallow her pride, the children could be kept safe.

Auteme's gaze finally broke away, and she stepped around and past the Empress, heading towards the orphanage.