Invasion No Quarter | NIO Invasion of TSE held Dantooine

[Arctus Silmar]

The Shaper

The Iron Crown|| Whilstone of Prowess|| Whilstone of Acuity
Whilstone of Power|| Acharn|| Urfael|| Mithralian
Voice Sample


Forces

x90 Reforged

x2 Darksworn

As the troopers of the 501st Stormtrooper Corp. advanced, led by the iron-willed Rurik Fel in their defiant advance, the Shaper's eyes calmly swept over the readings displayed before him. Several squadrons of Darth Prospero's Reforged had fallen already, bu had proven their mettle in the Shaper's eyes, and more than earned their place as a useful tool, a shield, to defend the glory of the Sith Empire with. As the Stormtroopers advanced the Shaper nodded ever so slightly in recognition of their shielded approach, and with the Whilstone of Power amplifying his telepathic command he simultaneously sent out new orders for the Reforged to follow. Something to shatter and splinter the advance of the Lord Executor. A small smile gracing the Shaper's lips as he saw the Darksworn beside him twitch anxiously, if they could sense the darkness, the death, and they hungered for battle. The Shaper's arms crossing over his armored chest as he hummed to himself "Well fought Executor, but let us see if you can break the back of Dantooine when you are forced to adapt. After all, iron is not known to bend."

In startling synchronicity did the Shaper feel Lord Darth Carnifex , the Once-Emperor, and the King of Midvinter move from their meditation and talks. Deep into the temple, and the Shaper could feel the power the Once-Emperor gathered to himself, and he directed the Reforged to their new stratagem. In the moments before Carnifex teleported himself and Thurion Heavenshield behind the enemy lines did the next waves of Reforged move to man the breach caused by Fel. Answering their dauntless shield-wall with a precise answer directed and amplified by the Shaper's influence. The Whilstones of Power and Acuity helping to sharpen the Reforged snipers in particular. From their vantages they would punish the shield wall of the advancing Imperial Forces, only after fellow Reforged launched their handheld rocket launchers into the shield walls. Attempting to break them apart and disrupt their synchronization while the snipers took advantage of any gaps created. Picking off individual members of the shield wall with shots to any exposed craniums, shoulders, feet, sides. As well as targeting the Heavy Repeaters of the Imperials whenever they were exposed. Their accuracy was deadly, their purpose drilled into them, their punishment to the enemy..... absolute.

Only once these orders were relayed effectively did the Shaper turn his attention to the two dozen Reforged who had come to the command center to join him as he set about the next step of his defensive plan. These Reforged he took the time to alter, ever so slightly, as he inscribed very specific markings on the inside of their armor in very... unorthodox locations. Locations unlike to be hit with blaster fire or a lightsaber strike, before he stood and turned his attention from the sniper teams to these Reforged, and bade them follow him out of the command center. Deep into the Temple did they tread, to one of the many bunkers the citizenry of Dantooine had been beckoned. Nestled safely in the proverbial bosom of the Empire the Shaper's lip curled in disgust. Did they really believe they would let the citizenry simply die? As nothing but meat to a grinder? Foolish, and predictable. Saving the citizenry, safely tucked away, huddled together fearfully in bunkers, was FAR more useful.

Perhaps once the Empire was a machine that would have sacrificed it's citizens like the traitors so callously thought. But no, at least not while the Shaper held sway, instead he did the citizens a... kindness. Reaching out with the Force he drew their fear from them, calming their minds as the knowledge of their fear as removed entirely, and into himself. He felt his pulse quicken, the Dark Side raging within him as he smiled, his eyes smoldering a deep, flickering amber as he chuckled to himself. The citizens as meat to a grinder? No. They were far more useful, and far more safe, as living, breathing batteries of fear. That would, all the while they saw the Empire valiantly defend them, fuel the Empire's valiant protectors with every rush of adrenaline, every quickening of their pulse, and the Shaper would make every single use of it.

As he turned to the Reforged the Shaper spoke in a low, ancient dialect, siphoning the fear from the citizens within the bunker and letting them have their peace as he finalized the finishing touch to his alterations. Imbuing the markings fully onto the Reforged before dispatching them with VERY specific instructions. Down to the moment of their death, they would know what to do, as the third wave of Reforged entered the fray with power maces in hand. Intent on engaging the encroaching Knights in melee combat, taking up a specific formation, and meeting their enemies in the disarray caused by both the Shaper's counterattack and the unleashed energy of Carnifex into the rear of their enemies.

Still retaining a vast majority of the energy he had gained from siphoning the fear of the citizenry, the Whilstone of Power even being restore fully with excess power surging through the Shaper, he returned to the command center and sat with his eyes closed, cross-legged, before beginning to inscribe a ritual circle on the floor around him. The markings burning into existence in a rush of green flame as the Shaper drew in a deep, focusing breathe, preparing for what would turn the Lord Executor's offensive into a show of just how strongly the Sith would defend their empire. The Shaper's own pulse quickening once again as he murmured to himself "This will be a lesson, that the Sith are truly eternal, and unlike iron...." The Shaper's eyes opened and pulsed with deep, ruby-red power, a snarl curling his lips. "....we do NOT break."


Allies: Darth Carnifex Thurion Heavenshield Ruek Tast Iasha Rha Adron Malvern Xobos Yakieer Freyu Molidias Other Space Kaiden

Enemies: Rurik Fel Detritus Ren Ryv Shaka Sunstar Cotan Sar'andor Loske Treicolt Hans Rennagen Oceiros Sunstrider Zaavik Perl Corso Rook Creuat Kalika Vaar

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Sakadi Marathi Sinvala

Spoiler

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

The people had not been herded into the city as shields, but herded into bunkers for their protection. In battle after battle, the very traitors who had sworn themselves to the cause of Tavlar and his ilk had exploited extraction to put citizens in peril. This time it would be different. Instead of sending them away, the citizens had been given access to armoured bunkers. If the New Imperials were so invested in not harming them, they would simply not have to bomb the bunkers. Not that the Empire would allow it. An Empire without its citizens was a hollow thing.

The Empire protects; that was the very foundation of their social contract. While all others were free game, citizens were always to be protected. Those civilians who were still in the streets were the tardy, the trapped, and the volunteers- Discounting those who decided to rebel against their providers.

It seemed the New Imperials were so concerned about painting a grim image of their opponent they lost sight of that reality. They also lost sight of another thing: The people of Dantooine did not love them. Some may have been moved by the speeches, those who were already sold. Those who had personal cause to turn.

With the nature of the Sith’s expeditions abroad, it was easy to presume their cruelty extended to all. Easy, but erroneous.

The Empire provides.

Joycelyn had to make an effort to hear the message, willing herself to lower her shield against mental outreach. Even with that shield, she could feel the Jedi’s hesitance. She could infer that the Jedi considered turning against her. She had no doubt it would have been a difficult fight, and one that would end up costing more lives than if not.

Behind her towered the white structure of the orphanage. Only hours ago it was filled with cheer of its reception and habitation. Now it stood empty as its denizens waited in the strong room below. If one listened, really listened, then between the din of battle one might hear the faint sound of the children and their caretakers singing to keep their spirits up.

Joycelyn stood in front of that structure like a monolith, sabre in one hand and the other outstretched.

“They will be safe underground. Safer than they would be out there, waiting to be picked off by skirmishers or trapped in space” “Those who remain are here of their own volition.” She turned her palm up. “They are safe as long as we stand firm.”

The wreath around Joycelyn’s head did help empower and inspire those who fought alongside her, but she did not force them. She gave them the power to fight for themselves, but she did not enslave their minds as some were able to do. The very heritage that made her strong against influence kept her from mastering such abilities.

Perhaps Sakadi was right, perhaps her death would cause less tragedy on this day?

The old man in the hoverchair trucked himself out of his shelter, lifted his missile launcher to his shoulder and fired a rocket at the New Imperial mechanised cavalry in the distance

“I will not keep them from protecting their homes.”

Further down, a group of four rushed out from an alleyway, dragging a fine wire behind them as they set up a trap should their enemies make it that far. Two were twi’leks, near identical but for their gender. One of their comrades was a human, always looking to the two twi'leks. The fourth member was a kushiban, quite the far traveler.

On their heads they wore each their red helmet or hat, and on their arms, black bands. Redtops, Sith Empire loyalists.

“If it eases your conscience, protect them and leave the rest to me.”

 

[Alina Tremiru]

Allies: TSE, Iasha Rha
Enemies: NIO
The Enclave - Path to Crystal Caverns

This was war. Holy crap it was war. Outwardly the young Acolyte was as calm and stoic as ever, but inwardly. Fear coursed through her. She'd never been in war before. It was chaotic. She could feel the shells impacting above. People being slaughtered. Killed. Killing. In the hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands. It brought a chill to her very core that made her want to flee.

But she didn't.

Already an embarrassment to her family she didn't dare become an embarrassment to her new master. She gripped the hilt of her saber until her knuckles turned completely white, but that was all the fear she'd let herself show. Thankfully the Twi'lek seemed far more calm, even preparing the other acolytes around them for this hit and run tactic. Using the caves to their advantage.

Smart.

"Choke points." She raised a hand to point at one in particular. A thin hallway that lead into a large cavern. "We should retreat here. Not much room for them to move around if they follow. Numbers won't mean anything."

 

[Ourania Amun]

​

Dantooine.​

​

It had been her home when the United Clans of Mandalore had begun their purge. Shamefully, it was also where she found herself bound to the will of the Sith Empire. Turning guns on her fellow vod on Mandalore and Concord Dawn. She saw from her camp where the Sith had begun herding their own people into armored bunkers. Ourania could not stomach the sight, "they truly will use any life to defend their own." The men and women in those armored bunkers were sheep for the slaughter, either from the indiscriminate bombardment or from the Sith using them like the wretched vampires they were. Milking their sheep dry, until not a single man, woman or child was left. ​

​

The Sith claimed to stand against tyranny, when they themselves have caused and wielded so much of it. From Serenno, to Ession, to Mandalore, then there was Coruscant, Balmorra, and Alderaan. Ourania looked to her wife and then to their clan, "vod, we shall not remain silent."​

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"Nor shall we keep to our chains, for today we break our chains!"​

​

"Ibi'tuur Mhi Shukur Ya'r Shukur Ya'r! VOD AN! VOD AN PAR MANDA'YAIM!"​

​

Ourania directed her clan to collect their beskar'gam, their weapons for today they would break not just their chains, but the chains of those who felt they had no other choice. To those who knew the boot of oppression as it stood under the Sith Empire, now Sith Eternal. How they make their sheep wear arm bands like the mindless livestock they were. ​

​

No longer, would Clan Amun stand under the banner of the darjetii.​

​

"Contact them."​

​

By them, she meant the Sons of Mandalore and on an encrypted channel. Clan Amun would make their presence known, "we do not bark for these motherless schutta, tell us where to go."​

​

Rynn Vizsla ​

​

​

 

[Other Space Kaiden]

Vulcanus Equipment:
Warrior's Skin
Graugothian Chain
The Inferno

Forces:
1000 Graug Warriors
(Surface Adjacent Tunnels)

1000 Graug Warriors
(Deeper Tunnels)

1 Glycon Warbeast

Graug NPC Equipment:
Hunter's Bow
Harbinger Rifles
Menace Sonic Rifle
Vengeance Rifle
Rattler Rifle
Horde Battle Lance
Glycon Mounted: Rail Gun Cannon

The darkness chittered and gnawed at the dim miasma of light radiating from the countless crystals embedded into the stone. The natural atmosphere of dripping water and scittering claws also fell prey to the hungering darkness - the sounds of churning stomachs and growling maws eating away at it all. Vulcanus stood at the helm of this heaving army of shadows, his jagged claws embedding themselves deep into the stone. The frigid surface of the cavern stung the hide of his hand and yet as he reached into The Force he could feel the well of heat rising through the planet's crust just beyond the caves.

The Seventh Day Emperor drank deeply of the air - his will calling nature to bend to his whim. Like a broken animal it jumped to his command and within moments he could feel the heat siphoning through the stone. With no outside air to contend with it was an easy task and where once the stone was frigid it became searing to the touch. Then Vulcanus exhaled and just as quickly the heat was sapped from the cavern surface once again.

A bleeding smile sliced open his necrotic flesh. Yes, this place would make a perfect grave for the weak.

"Kantus" The Dark Lord called into the darkness, to which it responded by spewing forth one of the lankey priests to his side.

"My Lord?" Kantus hissed in a voice of grating glass, his head bowed to the icy floor.

"I test your faith with command. Take a thousand of my warriors to the tunnels nearest the surface - find the enemy where they are weak."

Kantus' tongue whipped the air, "your will be done, my lord. Shall I allow the horde to feast upon seeing the enemy?"

"No" Vulcanus wicked smile grew sharper, "the Sith hide their weak people behind walls and bunkers - I doubt their enemy will show less weakness. If any citizens linger near the enemy lines, make their deaths agonizing. Loud."

"In your name, my lord...but to what ends?"

"To test the enemy" Vulcanus mused, "if they are weak they shall dispatch their men to help them. If they do…"

Vulcanus clenched a clawed fist, "then emerge and pull them to the underground. This place shall be the tomb of weaklings"

The Dark Lord cares little for the lives The Sith seemed in such a worry to defend. To The Graug their lives were meaningless and to kill them would be a test. Graug who would not follow their god's commandment would be discovered...then they would be put out from his misery.

"Your will be done, God of Gods" Kantus spoke, but as he bent his head a sudden shock shook the caverns. Vulcanus growled at the repulsive noise and the shadows behind him howled in rage as crystals fell lose from the ceiling.

A large chunk of glowing crystal plummeted to the ground, shattering into countless shards that plincked against the Sith Lord's armor.

The beast rifled the air with a snort, his sulfuric eyes peering through the shadows ahead. The shadows behind him grew restless. Maws snapped in hunger. Weapons racked with anticipation. The tremors of a Glycon drew near…

...and Vulcanus could feel the body heat entering the caverns somewhere ahead.

He drank deeply of the air once again and as he expelled it so to did he siphon the heat of the world towards the caverns. The heat would slowly rise throughout the cold cavern as the Lord of Embers prepared himself.

Then came his command.

"Feast"

And the wall of shadows became a swarm of Graug warriors who ripped through the darkness past their master. The air itself shifted and caverns filled with hungry growls and bloodthirsty chants in the Graug tongue.

And as the ocean of hunger tore through the various tunnels and caverns - which were not unlike the caverns they dug for themselves - they became two seas of bloodlust.

One barreling toward the scent of Mishel Kryze and the other swarming closer to the surface.

Arctus Silmar Darth Carnifex Iasha Rha​

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

​

As Kaine summoned to him his helmet, Thurion visibly recoiled. Such malice and hatred was housed within that object, such grief and despair. Every negative feeling known to every world imaginable, all directly fed into the mind of the Dark Lord to further empower his already obscene grasp of all things cruel and unholy. Even now, as he stood several feet away, the veteran Jedi felt his mind coming under assault by those same negative emotions. Again he summoned to him the strength to resist the onslaught of greed and temptation pouring from the foul item placed upon the scalp of Darth Carnifex .

With a firm grip around the pommel of his sword resting in its sheath he walked with the once-Emperor through the halls, a look of disapproval at the state of this new Sith Temple erected upon the bones of the old Dantooine Enclave. This used to be sacred ground to the Jedi, until the Sith defiled it with their corruptive ways.

His disgust, however, relented when the pair entered the secret passage way. They found themselves amidst the ruins of what used to be a Jedi meditation chamber. A place of peace, reduced to rubble. While the Sith Lord busied himself with his ritual, Thurion found himself drawn to that tattered old banner depicting the sigil of the Jedi Order. The Jedi Order, before the great schism and the fall of the Republic.

"Never thought I'd see this symbol again," he barely voiced as fingertips ran across the frayed piece of cloth. His first few years of being a padawan were spent on Coruscant, in what seemed like another life. He closed his eyes as he held the frail banner. "Asha..."

How long since last he spoke her name aloud? How long ago since she was killed? Since he killed her?

He glanced over his shoulder over at the kneeling Carnifex as a barrage of conflicting urges and emotions raged within him for control. Take your revenge. It's what she would have wanted. Do it now, while he is preoccupied. It's just you and him. You'll never get another chance this good.

"No. Revenge is not the Jedi way. I remember your teachings, Master. I'll always remember."

As much as it hurt, Thurion set aside his personal grievances with Kaine Zambrano, replacing his resurfaced feelings of loss and anger with memories of motherly love and care. Those are what he now chose to remember from their time together, and not the heartache that followed upon her death.

Turning his back to Carnifex, he wiped a silent tear from his cheek before giving the dusty old Jedi banner a sharp tug, tearing it from the wall and folding it together before finally stuffing it inside his breastplate against his heart. It deserved a more fitting resting place, in honour of those countless who fell in its defense.

Upon his return at Kaine's side, he noticed the glowing writings on the ground emitting great power, ushered forth by the once-Emperor. At his bidding, Thurion hesitantly reached out to connect with his sworn enemy, thrusting the two of them through space until they were no longer within the murky ruins of a forgotten temple, but rather outside amidst a raging battle.

Carnifex seemed to have anticipated this drastic shift in scenery, wasting no time in unleashing his dark powers upon an unsuspecting enemy formation. Thurion needed a moment to grasp what had just occurred, surveying the battlefield just for a few precious seconds to get his bearings before out came his sword from its sheath, radiant as the sun.

Not sure where to begin, for his first few actions he decided that rather to add to the suffering inflicted by his dark ally, he would instead mitigate it. As Kaine would attempt to use his lethal tendrils upon a group of helpless Imperial soldiers, Thurion would snatch them out of reach for said tendrils and instead smash them into the side of a nearby walker, incapacitating them rather than outright killing them.

Whether the Dark Lord himself noticed him doing this, he didn't much care. Now was not the time for arguing.

It wasn't until the Jedi Master was forced into melee that he struck down his first of the day, and it would not be the last. But so far the Lion King of Midvinter was pulling his punches.

Oceiros Sunstrider | Rurik Fel
Sword | Armour | Lightsaber​

 

[Vostok Grauv]

OBJECTIVE I

GARANG CITY

COMPNOR

TASK FORCE AXIS

Rifle | Handgun | Sword | Knuckles

POST #2
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OPERATIVE STATUS: Nominal
THREAT LEVEL: N/A
OBJECTIVE: Clean Up

​

They lay there in the street, their armored bodies stiff and riddled with holes. Unfortunate souls destined to be put in their place, only to be remembered as a plague upon the stars. Or subservient cowards that bent a knee to the rule of tyrants and the insufferable alike, all in the belief that the Sith and their flawed philosophy would elevate them to new heights. Vostok was once such a fool, a shadow behind the scenes of destruction - a hand pulling on the strings, so to speak.

Back then he couldn't begin to realize just how much of a puppet he was, and just how little agency he was truly given. Those bodies that lay cold and lifeless symbolized a part of Vostok that was now long gone, but from it he gained the necessary skills and knowledge to become something much greater. Far beyond the capacity of these mere grunts, chancing upon the possibility of luck and basic training.

"Advancing forward a bit, gonna try to close this gap and flank left."

Vostok's comm channel crackled as some interference was experienced, among the already quite cacophonous mixture of artillery and nearby skirmishes. Relocating himself to a nearby alleyway, the operative proceeded with caution, securing his rifle over his shoulder and drawing his sidearm. "Northwest alley clear, pressing inward."

Not even a full step forward before a maintenance hatch burst open in front of Vostok, a small framed figure lunging at him with what appeared to be a vibroknife. Side stepping the unknown assailant, the agent grabbed the base of their skull, thrusting their head into the opposing wall of the narrow corridor. They went limp, blood began to pool under them; using his left foot to flip the body, Vostok realized that the person he just killed was quite young, possibly late teens. A boy.

"They're using civvies... be careful."

The agent stared down at the corpse, cold eyes unblinking behind the darkness of a helmet, unmoved. Raising his sidearm, he moved on, stepping over his kill.

Rika Hiro | Jaeger Harrsk | Tulan Kor

​

 

[Hunter Blackburn]

O P E R A T I V E_ A P O L L O
OBJECTIVE I
DANTOOINE, GARANG CITY

​

It was the Sith’s newfound ‘altruism’ that would be their downfall on this day. They sought to portray themselves as protectors, as saviors when they were never such a thing. Galactic history of past and present has been marred with their atrocities, and they simply believed everyone would fall in line. It brought a smile to Hunter’s face. It was people like the Sith and Confederacy that through their actions gave birth to insurrections. The man could remember back when he first met Shuulk and set him upon the bath that led to a bloodbath on Ryloth. It would be no different here, except there were less civilians in the way.

Inside a duracrete building, Hunter looked down and through a window at a set of legionnaires and Sith loyalists pushing their way through the streets.

“You see what they do to your people don’t you Takach?” The COMPNOR agent asked the Duros who stood opposite Hunter, both looking through the opening. “This is what the Sith do, they get inside people's heads. They make them believe that they’re needed, they promise them things. Sanctuary, prosperity, peace. And they never deliver. World after world they topple in the name of their so-called empire, even willing to burn them to cinders before letting another have them. This is why we fight Takach. This is why we all fight.”

“B-but they’re our people.” The Duros muttered, those bulbous eyes tracking the contingent of troops through the street. “Fighting against the Sith is one thing, I will not strike against my brethren.”

“Brethren? You think they’re our brethren? They are gone Takach! They have betrayed me, they have betrayed you, they have betrayed what it means to be Dantooinian.”

Raising his fist Hunter slammed it into his own chest. “We’re the ones with the heart, with the will to act.” A gloved hand pointed to those below. “Those are the ones who kneeled before an Empire who cares naught for them. There is no easy path to freedom.”

Holding up a mirror to catch the light of Dantooine’s primary, Hunter flashed the beam two times into the building across from him and was answered in kind. “You see Takach, the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.”

With a summoning motion, Hunter brought forward four pairs of hands. Men and women of different races, all natives of the planet. All people who understood that they may not see the sun cross the horizon. In their hands, slingshots were slung across the windows. Within them, explosives made out of fertilizer, something that was all too plentiful on the planet.

“Now what was the next step brothers?!” Hunter bellowed out his voice carrying across the building and down to the streets below.

“RAIN HELL!” The insurrectionists screamed in unison as from the windows on either side of the street the bombs were flung to the streets below. The resounding chorus of the explosions rocked the streets, what windows hadn’t been knocked out shattering, glass falling to the streets below.

The tormented screams of loyalists and legionnaires alike rose up to the skies, and what they were answered with was a hail of damnation.

I N S U R R E C T I O N I S T
OBJECTIVE I
DANTOOINE, GARANG CITY​

Persona: Huvaarn

The Sith seemed to think that those of Dantooine had a short memory. They seemed to think that their atrocities had been forgotten. How they forcefully took the planet. How they’d scorched the Braxant Run, to ensure their foes received nothing. Huvaarn, remembered. Many on the planet remembered. The Sith could remain blind to the truth and believe that many were loyal, but in truth there were many like the Ithorian simply waiting for their time to strike.

Marching through the streets drabbed in the clothes of a loyalist, Huvaarn could barely stand himself. Staring at the plasteel clad legionnaires before him, the Ithorian’s hand gripped the blaster rifle that they’d been provided.

Here the Sith stood arming and utilizing the people of Dantooine as pawns. That’s all they were, that's all they’d ever be to the launted lords on high. The Sith used them as soldiers when they controlled a majority of the Tingel Arm. The Sith had the nerve, the gall, the sheer audacity to use the young and old as shields, all the while having stolen many of their youths, forcefully conscripting them into their military.

The Ithorian’s temples, thrummed with anger, those eyes hovering on the verge of bloodshot. His goal, his primary focus on the figures ahead of him. It wasn’t the Sith that would deliver the galaxy from evil, it wouldn’t deliver them freedom. Neither would the Imperial Order. No, if Huvaarn wanted freedom he’d have to die for it.

Then the order finally came down, his com chirping with the phrase. “We rise.” The Ithorian wasted no time, rushing forward, bowling pasts insurrectionists and legionnaires raising his blaster rifle to the face of one of the Sith troops.

Slowly turning their head the trooper had no chance to react as Huvaarn pulled the trigger. The scent of ozone filled the air, a crimson bolt slamming into and through the visor before coming out the other side of the helmet. Pink mist and charred bits of brain filled the sky as the soldier's body began to collapse to the ground. Turning the Ithorian fired on another trooper beginning to raise their rifle. Down they went, a blackened wound through their chest.

Spinning to fire on another, Huvaarn felt a sharp burning sensation in his shoulder. A bellow escaped the Ithorian’s maw as agony overtook him. Then there was another slamming through the center of the insurrectionist’s body leaving a crater in their torso. The final shot was one that removed half of the Ithorian’s jaw.

Toppling to the ground, laying limp the final thing Huvaarn saw was blaster fire filling the air.

Allies: Djorn Bline | Irveric Tavlar | Lucien Dooku | Tyrell Paxxus | Jaeger Harrsk
Foes: Joycelyn Zambrano | Darth Prazutis | Luna Terrik

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION
TASK FORCE 'AXIS'
Armor | Rifle | Pistol | Void | Grenades

THE PAIN LINGERS ON
​

Those same shades of Harnaidan. The only different being how loud it was. Harnaidan's streets were silent, broken...but frigidly silent until then there was that rush of hellfire in the open streets and plazas. As he advanced, that silent air rolled over him again, his rifle lowering down from his eyes reared down the sights, angled toward the ground.

And then, the shattered streets of Garang turned pristine once more, that faltering sunshine turning into a comforting fluorescence. He had that feeling of intangible nostalgia, familiarity. This was Garang as it was. Several years ago. Slowly, his boots tread the broken ground seemingly made anew again by the machination of his mind. Sitting one next to the other at a doorstep down this alleyway, himself, a man- no, a boy. Far younger than he was now, donning the off duty dress of a One Sith Stormtrooper, next to him. Kenth. His younger brother.

"They say how long you were supposed to be gone? Or what you'd be doing?" Kenth, no older than his early teens asked with his gaze peering to his elder brother in admiration.

"About...five years is the standard, but I'm sure I'll be able to visit before then. I think it was something like...anti-insurgency, fighting bad guys." Tavlar replied, clasping his hands in front of him, elbows on his knees as he sat on the doorstep, peering back toward Kenth.

"You nervous?" Kenth asked.

"Yeah...'course I am. I've been an officer...I'm put in charge of...a quite a few other soldiers, I just don't wanna let them down...or let you and mom down. I just wanna do good by everybody, make it out alive." Irveric admitted.

"Just..." His gaze then honed in on his younger kin.

"Make sure to take good care of mom, alright? She needs the help, she hasn't quite...been herself. So you need to watch her, take care of the house. I'll send back ever credit I can spare, don't worry about any of that. You just promise you can be the man of the house. Then when I come back, I'll start up something, get the money to send you off to learn or maybe we'll buy the farm back and live off that. I don't know, we'll figure it out but..." He stood up, motioning for Kenth to do the same as he stretched his arms out for an embrace which his younger brother wordlessly enveloped himself in.

"For now...I have to go, sure they're already waiting for me. You know I love you, tell mother the same. I'll relay back as soon as I can alright?" Irveric said to Kenth to peered back up to him through teary eyes.

"Alright." Was all he could muster in return before Irveric offered him another tight embrace...before he disappeared from his life forever. And as soon as he saw his own silhouette fade down the alleyway, his mind was wrenched back to reality.

CLUTCH IT LIKE A CORNERSTONE
​

<"Sir, almost all Axis callsigns are off target. Hellion's position is pinned down but Snake is moving for overwatch. We're two fifty out from point Aurek, how do-"> A loud band and bright flash pulsed in Tavlar's vision as he looked in the direction of the trooper. The stalwart duraplast and bodyglove underlayer were shredded in an instant, giving way to a spray of blood that careened against his armor and burrowed into the white etchings of the fallen on his plate to make horrid lines of crimson. A twisted malfeasance to what was already an ode to the dead. Irveric let the rifle fall from his hands, linger around his neck by the sling before he drew his pistol, pulling forward to press his hand between the back of the duraplast cuirass and the bodyglove of the trooper infront of him, pulling him tightly from the wrath of another shot as he faced down the man responsible.

Clad in parceled plates of crimson and black, the eyes of a mortal man. Afraid, with tears in his eyes and anger in his heart stared down the imperator. The sound of his fingers squeezing around the grip and rack of the scattergun was audible in the tense silence that congealed in this dark alley.

With his pistol trained on the man's temple, Tavlar stared him down along with the rest of his command squad who stood still with their rifles on the man in trained and molded temperence.

<"Put it down. I know you're not any trained soldier. I know you didn't ask for this...put it down, get inside, get away from here."> Tavlar says, the trooper clasped in his other hand was dead before his posterior touched the shattered ground beneath, not a moment after the impact but the Imperator kept him held out of his obligation as the man's comrade, fellow soldier. And most of all...because he didn't know any better, even if the blip in the bottom left of his life scanner that belonged to the man had gone cold.

"Gah- I could blow you away! End it right now!" The Citizen militia retorted in vitriol toward Tavlar.

<"Why? What would that bring back? You shouldn't be here...they should've evacuated you, your family weeks ago. Instead...they armed you all up and used you as meat shields. Where are the Sith? Where are your protectors? They don't give a damn about you or anyone else. You drop that blaster...and go."> Tavlar says, motioning his head to the left, in the direction of the New Imperial armed forces which could pull them to safety and out of harms way.

He could hear that shuttered breathing, that anxious rot of the trigger finger as the militia man aimed down the sights of the Imperator. He eased off for a second, mulling over his rhetoric before he eased into the rifle again, ready to fire it once more in the direction of the New Imperial head of state.

Before his finger could apply enough pressure to force another crack of the shatter gun, a particle beam fired squarely through his temple from Tavlar's pistol. Another spray of crimson life blood dotted his helmet before he holstered the weapon and eased his trooper to the ground. Peering down below was the shattered helmet with a miasma of flesh, bone and gore staring back at him through wide, empty eyes.

The sight was too much to bare and Tavlar screwed his eye shut, fishing down beneath the chest plate to pull the trooper's ID tag out from under the armor, slotting it away in the same pouch as the pilot's. The second he'd had to collect on the day now.

<"Let's move. Hellion, what's your status, I can move Vandal to relieve if you're still under the heat."> Tavlar said, back on his feet with his rifle in his arms.

<"All Axis callsigns, Enigma is moving to take up position at Point Aurek, E-T-A three minutes."> Tavlar voiced through the commo as he made his way down the alley way and soon that weary walk sped up to a jogging pace. Fast enough to press the urgency of the mission but still slow enough to properly move through his surroundings with a trained eye down the sights of his rifle.

A few minutes walk and they were there, a secluded point of the garrison fortications even if the final corridor leading up to Libra Gold was pacted with infantry, moving to bear down on Tavlar and his unit of 501st Stormtroopers who were quick to swarm for cover when the heavy repeaters, blasters and grenades unfurled their full degree of punishment in his direction.

<"Snake, transmitting location get me overwatch baring down sector dorn-four, just off Point Aurek. I'll mark targets and have your men put the shots down range."> Irveric said, ordering for a recon squad to move in sight of Tavlar's position to help relieve the heavy fire they were put under within eyesight of the first rendezvous point. Irveric himself, twisting his body around to aim down the sights of his rifle over the slab of duracrete and metal rubble he utilized for cover, his scope pinning each hostile his sights hovered over.

<"We need our regroup quick, the sooner this garrison is ours, the faster this battle ends."> Tavlar reaffirms through the Axis comms. But even he knew no one was coming home tonight. This battle was going to be grueling, this delicate form of street to street ultraviolence.

​

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | SOM | Jaeger Harrsk | Djorn Bline | Tyrell Paxxus | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Hunter Blackburn | Ravraa Vyshraal | Tulan Kor | Rika Hiro
ENEMIES | TSE | THE ELDER COMPACT | Darth Prazutis | Aurelion Nova | Luna Terrik | Taiia Mataan | OPEN

 

[Shaka Sunstar]

GALACTIC ALLIANCE
NEW JEDI ORDER
JEDI-IMPERIAL JOINT STRIKE TEAM
Armor | 2x Lightsaber
Objective II: Sith-Jedi Temple

​

The brief respite around the Sword was short lived.

Shaka was on the move again, re-igniting the hilt in his hand and taking off to follow the frontal attack on the Sith Temple. Less than a metre above his head, and poking over his shoulder was the New Jedi Order snapping with his movements, in a constant state of motion by invisible winds. Around him, death and explosions racked the earth. Bodies were thrown haphazardly or vaporized in the entirety in his peripherals and ahead of him.

Deflecting bolts into the earth he trod upon, he wouldn't make the attempt at sending the plasma bolts back to where they came from. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a group of stormtroopers in a crater and he leapt in with them, saber pointed to the ground as he crouched amongst the dirtied troopers.

At the lip of the crater, in the direction of the temple, the ground was pockmarked, almost blackened in its entirety from the heat of the energy based weapons that pelted the earth, and he realized they had been pinned down, and only at his approach had pressure been briefly alleviated.

"On Five, follow me!"

He leapt up and out of the hole, a bolt of energy that he was too slow to catch splattering across his shoulder.

Barely registering it as his armour held, the sapphire beam flourished in front of him, parrying bolt after bolt. The sixth sense in the back of his head already in overdrive with the warning flares to alert him to the dangers around him.

"Speeders!"

He saw them as they were called out, shifting to the side and cleaving downwards, his saber split open the first mounted Trooper and his bike crashed into the first Imperial climbing out of the crater behind him, barely even getting out before they were splattered and sent back into the wrecked earth, the only thing remaining on the grassy knoll above it -- their blaster they hadn't gotten a chance to fire. The second barely faired any better. A shot went off, and the first line of speeders went past them to continue into the assaulting forces and his allies. The laser fire from the gunned mounts tore the second to shreds, the third made it up, standing directly behind him and Shaka was sure he'd protect them both.

Ahead, the next speeder came, but this time he was properly ready. Reaching out with his right, the Force was summoned to him, and he wrenched downwards on the front of the leading speeders, tipping them far enough forwards to kiss the ground. Riders were sent off, speeders careening wildly as they flipped off of the ground with no regard for the Troopers or other Riders around.

Waving his offhand behind him, the Force billowed out and chucked the stormtrooper back into the hole behind him, where the corpses of both enemy and friend lay. Shuffling backwards, he leapt in too and deactivated his saber, leaning against the side of the hole. "We're stuck!

"Yeah.

Don't leave this crater."

It was slow going, but the Thyrsian was sure the other members of the New Jedi Order would be able to break the lines of the Sith. Whoever it was that led the defense of the Temple would have to be neutralized. Gaze settling on the speeder that made it into the crater with them. He shuffled over towards it, and straddled the seat as he reactivated the vehicle.

By me.

The repulsor kicked on, throwing dirt and bodily remains out of the crater, he hit the acceleration and zoomed out of the hole, for the most part ignoring the surrounding hostiles. He saw a gap, or a potential for one. And it was one that he'd breach all the same. He closed in rapidly on the temple, and he began to rise up from his chair. He was no perfect balancing Galactic Games gymnast, but where he wobbled, the Force was used to ensure he didn't fall off prematurely.

Hands vacating the grips, the invisible guiding hand that blessed all Force users settled on the acceleration and guidance, aimed right to the stairs that led up to the temple. He leapt off the bike, sapphire beam exploding to life from the hilt in his hand. His bike? On a direct collision course for the towering Pantoran ( Freyu Molidias ) at its base.

Figures ahead, enemies behind... He could sense the Dark Side of the Force radiating off of the pair ( Adron Malvern & Xobos Yakieer ) further up the steps. Whoever they were, he knew he made no mistake in targeting the trio.


ALLIES | NIO | NJO | Zaavik Perl | Cotan Sar'andor | Creuat | Loske Treicolt | Detritus Ren | Rurik Fel | Oceiros Sunstrider | Enlil | Hans Rennagen | Mishel Kryze | Kalika Vaar
ENEMIES | TSE | ELDER COMPACT | Alina Tremiru | Ruek Tast | Arctus Silmar | Other Space Kaiden | Darth Carnifex | Thurion Heavenshield |
DIRECTLY ENGAGING: Adron Malvern + Xobos Yakieer + Freyu Molidias

 

[Darth Prazutis]

The concerning words of his nervous, even fearful apprentice seemed to fall short with the elicited grunt that came from the giant who snapped back at the boy. "Good. Let them come. Daesumnor hungers." He tightened the grip on that immense runeblade whose sheer size was larger than his apprentice was tall. Dogs. They were boundless dogs of war of little use beyond the battlefield. War was all they understood. How could he possibly expect the Sovereign Imperator to see anything else but battle? It was all their kind were good for. It made the farm boy a hell of a soldier, brutally effective at what he did, but he had no instinct for rule. If they wanted to play the part of the dog? They would be slaughtered like one too. It was the weakness of the Jedi to hold themselves back with morality, to limit themselves against their opponents. In order to achieve victory one had to do whatever it takes.

"Your first lesson in war Aurelion. In order to achieve victory one has to do whatever it takes. It is only those who are willing to pay the cost that can achieve true victory. Whatever it takes. Now go. Leave my side fight, survive. My child might have been convinced enough in your ability, I am not. Prove your worth. I'll be sending another to join you in your task. They will find you." The giant replied as his gaze shifted from outward towards Aurelion Nova , the eyes of that soulless helm staring expressionless back at the young man. Either he would pass the test and survive, or fail and die. If it was the latter he would leave him on Dantooine and find another worthy of the power, the teachings he possessed. The Dark Lords gaze peered skyward then as he reached outward telepathically. The telecrystalline interlace boosted his formidable ability dramatically allowing him to find the being he was seeking, as it flew downward towards the great city. It was a being that reminded him of his second home, Maena, and his journeys into the old world and the encounters with the legendary dragons of old. Ulrich . Such a being imbued with such power was very rarely seen in this world.

A dragon with the intellect and the gifts to harness the force in the way Ulrich did. It was a being he kept his tabs on, a great Sith to unleash upon the enemies of the empire and one with great potential. If he proved himself worthy. "Ulrich hear me now. Departing from my location will be a young man, my apprentice going out to experience war, to prove his worth, Aurelion. You will join him in his test. Prove yourself. Fight, survive and return when the day is over." The Dark Lord flashed images of what Aurelion looked like to the mind of the great dragon then. They would be tested together then. As for what came next? What he would do in the face of the full force of the New Imperial onslaught? The people, his people were safe. But what would he do?

Whatever it takes.

In the relatively secure position he found himself in, it was the perfect place for what was to come. The giant pointed that colossal runeblade at a large wall and began to speak in the foul, black tongue of the Sith. Dark words that thrummed with power, sorcery of the highest accord. A pair of the eyes that dotted his armor the prosperian soulstones created from the genius of AMCO that held trapped souls, taken victims flickered and dimmed. The souls conjured out of them let loose a wail drowned in sorrow. They twirled down the long blade and at the very end against the wall a tiny rift began to form, it glowed with a baleful orange light to another realm. Even in such size the rift poured out heat. Inside the faintest rumbling could be heard. When the Dark Lord defied the laws of nature and called out to something...

Something was answering him.

Gerwald Lechner | Aiden Wolf ​

 

[Oceiros Sunstrider]

S U N S T R I D E R
NEW JEDI ORDER
JEDI-IMPERIAL JOINT STRIKE TEAM
Jedi Jumpsuit | Concord Brawn | Lightsaber

All across the surrounding fields of Dantooine the force recoiled as its will was twisted and tugged in different directions. There were those who broke it, used it as a beast of burden, as nothing more than a way to empower themselves. Then there were those who worked in unison with the force, letting it guide them, protect and heal them. Finally there were those who couldn’t control it but their emotions rang out through the force. Terror clutched at the hearts of the unprepared. Rage and a righteous fury burned as bright as a nova within many who’d taken to the field. No longer was the force a simple light or dark, those concepts were gone on the field of Dantooine. All sense of right and wrong was gone in the ceaseless bloodshed.

Azure blade moving through a defensive pattern ahead of himself, bolt after bolt of blaster fire was knocked away from the Imperial troops. At their head Oceiros danced to and fro, the hum of his blade protecting the 501st as they pushed forward with their repeaters.

Off from the Jedi’s left there was a flash of red that leapt at him. Dancing backwards, blade coming up the crimson darts path was sent back on a return path. Striking a Sith Legionnaire in the leg, the soldier collapsed forward, his other unable to bear the weight on a single leg. The next instant a stray bolt penetrated the soldiers temple, their body falling to the side, smoke rising from the crater in their skull.

Eyes closing the Epicanthix looked away. Many would call Oceiros foolish, or naive due to his hesitancies to take life. As a child he’d heard tales of how the Jedi were not meant to deal in death, they were meant to be protectors, and saviors. From those steeped in the dark, to those serving as simple soldiers, all had a right to life, and should be offered a chance at redemption.

The weight of all the deaths hung in the air. Each second that passed was another presence that was snuffed from the force. Standing at the back of the arrangement, those Sapphire orbs locked on Rurik’s back as he gave his impassioned speech.

Where had he gone wrong? Where had one who could’ve been the brightest of their order gone south? No longer did the Lord Executor sound like a commander, he began to sound like a warmonger.

Stepping forward Oceiros seized one of Rurik’s pauldrons. Before he could turn the other towards him, Oceiros felt a tingling at the base of his skull, that spread through the entirety of his being. Breath catching in his throat, Oceiros turned in time to see the force itself torn asunder as two figures were dumped upon the field of battle.

Pillars of light and dark stood side by side on the pastureland. Their presences dominating the entirety of the area. The Jedi remembered hearing stories of the great Heavenshields. Tales of how they stood in the path of Darkness battling it back. The greatest of them being Thurion. Once a hero of the light, now nothing more than a pawn in the games of the Sith. The other Jedi might as well have penetrated Oceiros’ heart with a dagger.

Eyes moving to the far more dangerous figure, the Epicanthix watched as the figures hands rose. The force roiling as it was summoned to Carnifex.

“MO-” The words of warning did not come fast enough.

Flash, flash, flash. The scarlet tendrils of lightning reached out engulfing a number of the Imperials. Many of them were dead before they realized they’d been struck. The dark energy tearing through their beings, atomizing some on contact. Others caught on the edges left as nothing but charred husks.


They didn’t even have a chance to scream. The few who did manage to survive lay upon the ground. Clutching at his chest, Oceiros turned from the temple, beginning a march back towards the two figures.

It felt as though lead filled the Jedi’s legs the closer he drew to them. The sheer aura the two emitted carrying a weight of its own. Casting a glance to his side Oceiros saw Rurik keeping pace alongside him. The two had been drawn here by the force, their fates intertwined on this day.

The closer Oceiros drew to the duo, the more he realized just how truly massive the two were. It was akin to facing monoliths, their size leaving them towering over Oceiros and Rurik.

Holding his saber in a white-knuckled grip Oceiros came to a stop just short of Thurion and Emperor Carnifex.

Here the epicanthix stood facing the one who had robbed the Sunstrider’s of their brightest star. That had taken away one of the few people Oceiros had left in the galaxy to care for. Many would expect the padawan to feel fear when standing before the Emperor, what he felt now was a burning as the furnace that was his heart grew even hotter.

The Jedi’s heart urged him to act, but it was Oceiros’ mind that stayed his blade. Speaking the Jedi’s eyes never left Carnifex.

“Master Heavenshield, I beg you to reconsider your allegiances. As a Jedi we took an oath! We took an oath to defend life, civilization! You stand alongside one who had defiled those many times over. You verge on becoming the very thing you swore to destroy if you continue to go along with this farce.”

The Willing: Rurik Fel
The Unthinkable: Darth Carnifex | Thurion Heavenshield

 

[Hans Rennagen]

Allies: NIO | NJO | Detritus Ren | Rurik Fel | Oceiros Sunstrider
Enemies: TSE | SJO | CIS | Arctus Silmar
Equipment: Lightsaber, Shield, Imperial Knight Armour
Judgement has begun

Hans rushed into position as Fel called for the shield-bearers to form a line. Just like they had practiced.

The shield wall formed and the stormtroopers fell into their own positions, ready to lay down fire on the defenders. The bravest of the 501st let loose hell upon the Sith soldiers as a handful of Sith warriors charged with their crimson blades toward the knights.

An acolyte wrapped head-to-toe in a dark, obscuring cloak brandished two lightsabers before she made the mad dash through the blaster fire. She struck one blade against Hans’ shield, and the other towards his head. His burning white blade clashed against hers, stopping her advance. She pushed her weight in on him, forcing him to take a step back. She broke from their lock and reeled backwards, winding up for another strike. As she did, Hans plunged his blade deep into her chest.

Hans stepped up to his position again, stunned. She was the first Sith he had ever killed. A true Sith that was. He’d taken down Sith soldiers in the past, but this was a real acolyte of the darkside. That very brief moment was everything he’d trained for, and he knew he’d be put to the test again. Any minute now.

The resistance outside the temple was quickly and harshly suppressed, but everyone present knew the real challenge lay inside. The charge carriers broke rank and swiftly placed the payload. The doors broke open with an unsettling metallic screech, as if they were a warning to turn back. But of course, no one would.

It was time to charge the breach.

The line began to advance even faster to meet the surge of enemy soldiers pouring out from the temple. As they stepped closer every second, shoulder to shoulder, Hans could hear his heart racing over the ambient sound of the battle.

Hans suddenly heard the ripping sound of a highly concentrated blaster bolt. An eerie and unmistakable noise, followed by the sound of an impact. The knight next to him fell to the ground, a smoldering black ring marking his helmet. Hans instinctively knelt beside the man and covered them both with his shield, but knew there was nothing he could do. If he wasn’t already dead he would be soon, and Hans knew he had to keep advancing.

“Medic! Here!” He called, looking around the battlefield frantically. He saw no medics, but as he looked back to his commanding officer he caught a glimpse he wished he had not. Materializing like an apparition from thin air was a gargantuan figure of darkness. A Sith Lord. The sense of dread that suddenly enveloped the battlefield in their presence was a feat of powerful Sith Lords he’d been warned about, but to actually feel it made him nauseous.

Hans picked himself up and began his sprint back to the line, which had for the most part been broken by the onslaught of Sith cyborgs. The doors had turned into a bloody melee skirmish to determine who would control the temple. His breathing was heavy, more so than normal even after a run. The darkness was sickening, and it took all his adrenaline to stave off the feeling.

He descended into the fight, but he had no time for it. He gathered the force into his hand, pulling at the tangible energy in the air, and hurling it towards the open door. Three cyborgs were thrown clear into the hallway behind.

Without even looking at his brothers he commanded them. Not out of superiority, but out of common sense... and fear.

“We need to get inside, NOW!”

He yelled to his brothers with all the breath in his lungs as the electric crackle of red lightning shot out across the field towards them...

 

[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
​

The intensity of the fighting only heightened with each passing minute. Legionnaires screamed out as death laid claim to them, delivered via burning saber or returned bolt. Many huddled together behind cover, their blasters trained on the encroaching Jedi, but few pushed beyond the defensive line drawn before the Sith Enclave. To face a Jedi directly was suicide. And rather than run foolishly to their demies, the Sith-Imperial's played to the strengths. They fortified a key location they knew would draw their hated enemy. Maybe a wise commander would deem such a direct attack folly. But it wasn't just victory Ryv sought. No, he wanted to break them.

In whatever twisted fantasy these fiends lived, they believed themselves heroes. Even now, they spouted such nonsense to their people. But what hero would establish comfortable retirement so close to the war front? Who would arm farmers and children rather than utilize their vast wealth? Each passing day the Sith slipped further into insanity. What would they think when the Sword piled their corpses around the temple and set it ablaze? What deeper madness would these depraved beasts fall into when he stood atop a mountain of Sith bodies, their ruined Empire rubble at his feet?

Ryv lifted Resolve and sidestepped an incoming round. He batted the next shot aside with a flick of his wrist. The soldier closest to the shooter became the unlucky recipient of his ally's foolish blast, resulting in an unseen and swift death—undeserved mercy, to be sure.

"Jedi," an unfamiliar voice called from somewhere behind Ryv. "Buy me a moment, and I will carve you a path!"

The Kiffar turned in time to see a pair of Imperial Knights plant themselves between Enlil and the enemy. Ryv looked to Cotan and motioned towards Loske.

"Cover the blonde! We're gonna give this S.O.B enough space to blow open a hole in the wall!" Ryv jogged over to Enlil and positioned himself ahead of the golden-haired King. "We're gonna make space and give you time. Against heavy fire like this, we won't last long, so make sure you're ready, you're majesty!"

Ryv winked at the noble and hurried to take up a position half a dozen meters to Loske's left. He activated his commlink and sliced downward with his green blade simultaneously, narrowly avoiding a shot to the dome.

"Jedi!" his voice ripped through each Jedi's communicator. "A King has requested our aid! So I ask you: who are we to deny his majesty!? Form up on Loske! On my order, raise your shields! I will not allow us to fall so close to our target!"

As the Sword waited for his brethren to fall in step, a sudden pulse of dark energy rocked his senses. His neck craned left, then right as he sought the source of the power. He expected a Sith Lord to stride out from nearby spoke, crimson saber held high, and hate in their eyes. Nothing of the sort happened. Ryv continued and failed to find anything within the immediate vicinity for several quick heartbeats. It wasn't until a cool wave of calm drifted upwards did it click.

Another voice cut through the din as Zaavik's cry heralded the mounted flank.

"Ah, that's not good," Ryv cursed his timing. All nearby Jedi were nearly in position, their sabers a blur as they faced down the Sith-Imperial firepower. "Can't stop the speeders, but I can at least get us out of the way and make sure this filth winds up in the dirt."

He activated his communicator once again. "Jin! This is commander Karis! A powerful Sith Lord appears to be feeding off the citizen's fear to bolster his power. I have no idea where he is, but I wager it's somewhere in the temple. Give us a minute, and we'll give you and Hans an opening."

Rather than wait for a response, Ryv flipped back to the New Jedi Order's channel. "Hope everyone is ready! Shields up!"

With that, he lifted both hands and pressed them palms forward to the Sith Enclave. He took a deep breath and allowed himself an instance of calm. As his chest rose, so too did the powers of the Force around him. It swelled upward and took form before him. A blurred wall reached higher and higher into the sky, now towering a dozen meters high. It spread outward from there, growing thinner until it eventually connected with those closest to him. He smirked as the Sith's tried and failed to puncture the barrier erected at their very doorstep.

"King Enlil! The shows all yours!"

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | Enlil | Loske Treicolt | Cotan Sar'andor | Shaka Sunstar | Zaavik Perl | Detritus Ren | Hans Rennagen
ENEMIES | TSE | ELDER COMPACT | T The End Narrator | Arctus Silmar |

 

[Kyyrk]

P E A R L
Arriving at Dantooine
Flying in formation with Kiff Brayde and Verin Oldo
Confederate Battlegroup Obsidian joined by Taeli Raaf and other Sith Fleet Elements
Flying in opposition of Robogeber , Okkeus Dainlei , Josiah Navollious, and Var Koon
Objective: Draw their fire

Zero Hour
​

Voph had been rousted from his studies in short order. The datapad detailing some of the lesser deities of the Old Days was left forgotten on the desk as he was summoned to the bridge. Voph had been content to let the bridge officers conduct the wargames on their own. The Lord Commander had more pressing things to tend to at that exact moment. But on being told that they were being hailed by Taeli Raaf , Voph had immediately put his work aside. She had addressed him not as Lord Commander, but as Darth.

Whatever it was, it was dire.

As Voph strode onto the bridge of his flagship, Darcy was already relaying the message from the galaxy's foremost authority on Sith Spawn. "Darth Voph, we are deploying the fleet to Dantooine. A distress signal has come through of an attack from the New-Imperials. Assistance would be appreciated." Voph frowned at this message. An attack on Dantooine? The bridge fell silent for a moment, as all eyes turned to look at him. "Sir, we're receiving Tactical Data from Mistress Taeli's flagship."

Voph sighed quietly, setting his jaw underneath the rebreather of his armor. His fingers flexed and curled as he collected his thoughts. Then, the bridge of the Ventress was sent into a flurry of activity as he began barking out orders. "All hands, battle stations. This is not a drill. Red alert, prepare for combat jump." Voph stepped forward to take his place at the commander's station. "Marshal Brayde, form your group up, it's time to go. Synchronize with Darcy's analysis systems, Transmitting data now."

The ships outside were in motion. First the Vanguard and Bastion drew alongside the Ventress, then the line of Obsidian Destroyers forming a wedge around that. The cluster of fighters available to the battlegroup assembled in a cloud around the capital ships. The Interceptors, the only ships incapable of Hyperspace flight, began emergency docking procedures. Voph, meanwhile, opened a tightbeam channel to both the Viceroyalty of Naboo, and the Sith Empire Command. "This is Lord Commander Voph. Effective immediately I am assuming direct control of Battle Group Obsidian, and diverting our course to render aid to the people of Dantooine. Per the terms of our alliance, we shall fight to the death to defend the people of Dantooine."

Thirty seconds.

The channel was closed, and Voph addressed the whole of his fleet, the ships of Brayde and Verin Oldo as well. "Today the New Imperial Order seeks to send a message. A message of pain and destruction. Of genocide and starvation. Dantooine is but a peaceful farming world, with no military value besides the food with which the people of the north are sustained. Today, we ride to battle. To defend those incapable of defending themselves. And to show the New Imperial Republic that they are not the foremost authority in the galaxy. My brothers, my sisters. Prepare for War."

The channel closed, and a hologram of Brayde and Oldo appeared in front of Voph as a secure connection was established between them. "Brayde, you should have received information on the battlefield. I think you'll agree their attacking force is rather paltry for the reputation the Imps have, so be mindful of reinforcements. We have friendly assets on the ground, we'll need to provide evacuation routes and air support as necessary. Knowing Exarch Malvern, they won't be leaving without a good fight, first."

Voph could feel the ships slipping forward into Hyperspace. It was time. "Upon your arrival, break their line. Show our newfound friends how the Confederacy honors its alliances."

​

​

 

[Ulrich]

In my youth I had heard many Mandalorians profess to fearing nothing and no-one. They were after all forged in a crucible of carnage and strife. The iconic beskar'gam alone was enough to send thrills of terror through the hearts of onlookers. As fearsome as their reputation may be their exclamations of fearlessness were blatant lies. Even the hardest warrior knew somewhere deep inside himself that there were those whose paths took them so far beyond the mortal skein as to render the swinging of mundane blades laughable. The primordial antediluvian instinct that caused the first peoples to turn to the sun and light in hopes that those with the will and knowledge to grasp the old magic would not turn it upon them. So it was that again and again the Mandalorians had been brought to heel by the Sith, their pride broken and debased before a greater power.


My knowledge of Darth Prazutis was poor being new to the organization but from what I had gleaned he was a true archmagus in the traditional mold. Clad in a suit of heavy full plate he embraced the archetype of the sorcerer king to to the extreme. He did not favor the pretense that the Jedi adhered to that the force was some sanitized sterile thing clean in its dealing and simply accepted alongside the light of 'progress'. No even as a flew across the battlefield he drew upon the souls of the dead fueling a ritual to sunder the veil of reality. Dress it up in whatever saccharine trappings you wish rationalize what the Sith did as mere superstition but at the end of the day the nightmare of blood and hexes were real. Prazutis was living proof of such.

"Thus it is bidden and thus I obey."

My response wasn't verbal. Screaming across the noise of a battlefield this big would get me nowhere even with lungs as large as my own. Rather I thought it assuming that the monarch would receive my words. Regardless my actions would be enough of an indicator of compliance. I alter my posture wings out and ready to smoothen my landing. It is a much smoother transition this time than my far more reckless action against the Vong. My point of alighting is a patch of hard concrete some one hundred and twenty meters from the dark lord and his protégée.

I incline my head signaling both respect for the superior magister and an indication that I am to be the boys escort across this blasted cityscape. I watch the youth Aurelion Nova now that I am more or less level with him and it's easier to make out details. He's small , I can't quite tell his age but it seems that he hasn't yet reached the full extent of his growth cycle. Blonde hair and pale skin suggesting ancestry from one of the colder climates in the galaxy. While Prazutis is enormous for a human the boy has yet to top six feet. But, given the circumstances the elder mage must see something in him and so I await to find out what Aurelion's unassuming exterior hides.

 

[Aiden Wolf]

Location: In the city moving towards the ritual
Equipment: Body/Suit/Sword, M-107 Anti-Material Rifle, M-18 Pit Viper, SYC Grenades, Ion Grenades, Flashbangs, DEX Satchel charges
Tags: Darth Prazutis Aurelion Nova Gerwald Lechner Open
Objective: Locate Darth Prazutis, save lives
​

Aiden would continue forward on his jog towards a predetermined location that would offer a good vantage point. The sounds of battle around him were quite familiar, distant blaster fire, screaming, explosions, all of the sounds of the maestro of death conducting his music of violence and destruction. Aiden used his own cybernetic abilities and Wind Talker comms to tap into the CAF battlenet to hear nearby communications of troopers in field. The Dire Wolves' incorporation of their communications technology and security protocols with the CAF would allow the cyborg to access those same channels. He was honestly surprised that they weren't here. There must have been a greater threat elsewhere otherwise he was sure that they would definitely be here in force. He would hear reports of engagements between NIO and the CAF and even some civilian elements. Which was strange as he would assume there would only be one civilian element in play, that being the militias that the TSE had allowed to stay and fight for their homes. It was puzzling to the boy, until he put two and two together and figured out why there was more than one.

Insurgents.

Aiden absolutely detested the thought that he'd been confronted with. Allowing the civilians to form militias that supported and worked alongside actual planetary, system and other actual trained forces was one thing. Allowing them to support these forces in combat zones and help protect themselves allowing for the actual trained regular and veteran forces to focus on fighting the heart of the battle and taking the fight to the enemy, was quite normal. But sending spies and infiltrators to a planet to "train", or more likely radicalize locals into fighting so the invaders didn't have to was not only low, it was downright despicable. Aiden thought back to his "childhood" of fighting for groups like these, being used by a radical group as a child soldier to fight. How his captors had told him first to fight because it was the "right thing to do" and that these people were "evil". And then it turned to either he fight and kill them or he'd be killed himself. How he'd been forced to commit massacres and atrocities before becoming numb to it all through the drugs and indoctrination. That a galactic power would not only condone this type of warfare, it made Aiden sick to his stomach. These people would die in droves. They would be massacred, fed into the meat grinder like lambs to the slaughter because the NIO didn't want to waste the actual man power it would take to fight the TSE head on. Aiden thought back to Sergei's thoughts on the matter and couldn't help but agree having once been in such a situation. The NIO would congratulate these people if they won, give them a good pat on the back and maybe even put them in positions of power to lord over their peers. But the moment they thought for themselves they'd be executed, and if the NIO lost this invasion they would abandon these so called comrades of theirs. They wouldn't care for them because they weren't their people, they were tools. Things to be used and discarded. The Dire Wolves fought a similar action that occurred in the Confederacy against an element just like this. They took losses protecting innocent lives because their enemies decided that instead of leaving those innocent souls out of the fight, they would use them like a punchline to some sick joke. Aiden remembered how much he hated hearing about it in the news. How much rage he felt while he'd been in school and actually read some of the reports coming back from the front. How if it wasn't for John and Gia's guidance and heartfelt wisdom, Aiden would have left school to go find these people and make them hurt like only he knew how. What the NIO had done was detestable and no doubt they would spin it in a propaganda piece that they were now liberators. They would casually gloss over the facts that these people had been essentially put to death by their own hands. That because of them more would die. That-

Aiden's body would shudder as he felt a quite familiar feeling as he stopped and felt something looking at him. He'd allowed his anger to build at the people in question, forgetting to keep his emotions in check. To stay focused. And now it was here. A being of black shadow with red glowing eyes and white jagged teeth in a perpetual evil and wicked smile. It hovered a few feet back from Aiden, the apparition from his mind mocking him with how while he could make it go away with time, it never really ever left him. It's voice would be cold as ice and drip of ichor as it spoke in his head.

So, want to make people hurt do we?

No. That's not what I want.

But it would make you feel better wouldn't it? And what better way to teach these animals a lesson? Break their bones, feed them their skin, drink in their delicious screams of pain and agony as they perish. You know better than anyone that's all these animals understand, is violence, pain and death. You know what these things do to others they consider their playthings. After all, we were one not so long ago weren't we?

Shut up.

Come now, is it really so bad if you let us out? To be free for a few minutes, hours, days if it means that those you hate so very much perish? You know they must be brought to the sword if there is ever to be peace. And their pain with ours will be so absolutely delicious.

I said, SHUT UP!​

Aiden would turn in blinding speed, drawing his pistol, levelling it at the apparition and firing a single round through its demonic looking face. The figure would dissipate, leaving Aiden sitting there with a pistol aimed at nothing. He would take a few breathes to calm himself, and holster the pistol. Before he could start moving again however the voice would speak one last time.

Remember what you saw in those reports, on the faces of the survivors of Ryloth. Remember how those men of The Dire Wolves changed after the formation of The Ghost Company. You may consider us a monster little wolf, but remember that to fight these monsters you must become one yourself. You have tasted blood and pain before. And you will again. When you are too weak to save those whose lives depend on you, I'll be waiting. Because when you give in, I want to hear you say the words.

And like that the feeling was gone. Aiden continued to press forward, the ground now rumbling with the presence of newer combatants taking the field. It was no longer safe to be in the street, and Aiden was about five hundred meters from his vantage point. He would need to double time. He started running forward as he attached the sniper rifle to his back and began pumping his arms. His advanced speed would allow him to move much faster than any organic, at least those not channeling the force. He watched the numbers on his helmet count down slowly, his unnaturally soft foot falls barely registering on the ground as the minor quakes below could be felt by the cyborg. Something was coming. A lot of something was coming, and knowing the Sith it was not something he wanted to be around to find out what it was. Most normal people would probably not be able to tell, but Aiden's advanced senses were tuned to the extremes when his gloves and boots were off. Every vibration, even being able to visually scan energies flying around him in combat, everything was able to be scanned and measured. And through his brain augmentations, his mind was able to take in and process this information faster than a normal being making him able to make the decisions necessary to be not only quick in short bursts, but extremely fast. As Aiden approached the abandoned building for his vantage point, he would take a short hop to the top of an abandoned speeder. From there as he landed he would squat lower in his legs like a spring being coiled, and then leap into the air, getting about fifty meters up the building in a massive leap. He would dig his claws into the ferrocrete of the structure, catching the side of the building before starting his fast climb. Up here like this he would be exposed to shooters and others on the ground level, but thankfully he was on the side facing away from his target. Which he hoped would mean most people were looking the other way to the front. He got up another twenty, twenty-five, thirty, before reaching an open window. He would haul himself inside, doing a quick visual scan for anything here. It looked abandoned, meaning that hopefully the people that either lived or worked here were safe. Aiden could only hope that as he continued forward, moving silently as he did a brisk walk through the floor. There was nobody here, at least not on this floor as he approached a window facing the other side. From here he could see the garrison, its walls definitely high enough to offer more than adequate protection from any would be invaders. No doubt his quarry would be inside, so how to get in there..... wait a minute.

Aiden's gaze was taken from his scouting of the walls to down below, two figures standing in full battle armor. The second Aiden didn't recognize at all, but the first.... that was him. Aiden continued looking when he spotted a quite familiar face next to them. One Mr. Gerwald Lechner. That son of a Kath Hound. If he'd been here all along Aiden might as well have just followed him in. He silently cursed his luck as he pulled out his sniper rifle to get a better view of the trio. His holographic rangefinder was good, but he needed a clear view of what was going on. That and if he somehow got spotted, an anti-material rifle would be more than capable of silencing any would be attackers. His focus however was directly on Darth Prazutis. He watched the lord quite intently, trying to figure out what he was doing. He was, doing something with his sword. What was he doing? Then the energies of the force began to manifest in a large wall. It was a ritual? What in the blue blazes would he be doing out here. Wait a minute, if Gerwald was here-

Aiden cursed silently to himself.

He hoped the wind didn't carry his scent to the shifter. Because he was more than sure that he wouldn't appreciate being spied on. Because while his suit wouldn't give away his position in the force, except if someone knew how to find one of The Dire Wolves commandos by looking for a specific void in the force, he hadn't thought to cover up his scent. And while his suit's particular scent wasn't very noticeable even to someone like a shifter or those with more sensitive olfactory organs, Aiden was more than certain Gerwald wouldn't forget his suit's particular scent. Confronting someone in a pretty aggressive manner in front of their childhood home would have that effect on people. Aiden had to confirm his suspicions though. He couldn't bail. So he held what he had, keeping his rifle trained on the Darth, and trying to see exactly what this ritual's aim was. He was more than certain he wouldn't have to wait long.

 

[Lark]

​

Location: Sith Temple/Crystal Caverns
Writing With: Enlil

Lark's pre-battle rituals were markedly different than what any other soldier, whether they be Jedi or Sith, NIO grunt or Mandalorian warrior practiced. Some remembered their training, their family and loved ones. Others sang songs of victory or offered prayers to concepts that cared not for their mortal strife. Indeed, Lark himself had participated in some of those practices. When his personalities were shattered, scattered pieces of some whole being he used to be, he thought of his siblings. His dear brother and sister, lost amongst the endless expanse of wondrous stars and planets. Or he reminisced on his days spent studying on Bastion, dueling with fellow acolytes and scrolling through libraries worth of datapads and ancient tomes. He was never one for feverous prayer, and he admitted he'd still hum a sweet tune whenever the ambiance was appropriate. But now that he was whole again, his preparation for battle had become far more dangerous.

Underneath the temple on Dantooine, sitting atop a throne of crystals, Lark read a children's book. It was one he picked out just before the NIO launched their manic barrage on the tranquil world, and fortunately it was a rather short read. He had originally selected the little fable because it seemed eerily similar to the book he so desperately searched for. In all likelihood, every copy of the story had been annihilated and turned to ash alongside his home planet of Myrkr. No matter how many libraries and temples he searched through, he could not find even a mention of the tragic tale he read within the hallowed walls of that forlorn orphanage.

Where have you run off too, Little Prince? Where are you hiding now?

Soft droplets of cavern water fell into a mirror-like puddle, and for the final time those pages worn by age were folded shut. Calligraphy read by a parent to their child before slumber, now tossed into a small pool of water as clear as glass. Ink became blurred and indecipherable, when Lark no longer drew breath the story would be abandoned forever.

You're not the one I've been searching for. Enjoy your rest here, amongst the memories of empires come and gone.

Worthless.

Lark let out a gentle breath, benign frost followed close behind. Where he resided in the serene, angelic spectacle of kaleidoscopic crystals was still relatively tranquil, though he could sense dark presences descending upon the temple. Whether they were his Sith allies or the foreboding atmosphere that preceded battle, he couldn't say. But he felt comfort among the caliginous unknow.

Lark felt warmth.

Never before had he felt as strong as he did now.

Come and see, Lark thought, an aura of passionate hospitality breaking through the cold. Come and see the eyes of a Sith.

And may you find in these caverns the eternal comfort I now feel.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

​

GEAR: This and That
CIS: Lavria Xedrim | Redd
SITH: Darth Prazutis
NIO: N/A

DISGUST.​

​

The word signified everything which surrounded the agreement which the Confederacy of Independent Systems and the The Sith Eternal had agreed to. Two syllables which manifested the very feelings Gerwald projected as his eyes fell on the Mountain who was not more than a stone's throw away from him. He had arrived to aid in security as there were to be continued talks between the factions, but it seemed those would not take place as the city was under attack by another nation. Blue eyes shifted from the Sith delegation to his closest companions, those he had hand picked to join him for security purposes.​

​

First was his sister. Redd , was not related by blood, but she had been there for him in ways his true sister had not. After Alwine had left, it was Redd who had been more present to help him struggle to keep his promises to a dead woman, one that haunted him every waking moment, and did not allow any reprieve when he slept. Redd knew. She had seen the ghost, and had perceived Gerwald's feelings. The lupine had not been able to move on from them. So much felt incomplete, as though true closure was not possible. As long as Naedira was bound to the ring he carried, as long as there was a chance she would live again, Gerwald carried the burden of his oaths. Redd, whether willingly or not, had helped Gerwald shoulder it when it was too heavy.​

​

The other was a recent acquaintance. Lavria Xedrim was something a curious sort to Gerwald. Their first meeting had been a training session which was supposed to be simple, an introduction to elemental manipulation. Lavria had conjured fire when asked to create wind. It was not an odd mistake, but it had been unique. The color of the flame was black as night. It was a manifestation of darkness Gerwald had never encountered before, and the wolf was curious as to how and why it had occurred. He would have the truth one way or another, and until then, he would keep the woman close for a time. While she was not his squire, he would find reasons to keep her near.​

​

"Stay close to me regardless of what the others do. Our purpose here may have just changed."​

​

He waited for each of them to confirm his orders before moving on.​

​

His gaze went back to Darth Prazutis . He had never seen the man fight in battle, though he had seen the aftermath, and faced the man himself in a wasted duel. Gerwald had been weaker in the force, brash, and manipulated by the Mountian himself. Those mistakes would not be repeated. He was cautious, wary, because he knew what the Dark Lord was capable of. The galaxy was mistaken if they thought the Confederacy and Sith to be allies. There was only one purpose for their discussions.​

​

The Brynadul.​

​

They were a plight, a scourge, across the galaxy. Their horde would soon march closer to the Confederate territories and Gerwald knew that such threats made strange bedfellows. The Brynadul were ruthless, unmerciful creatures. Their actions made the Sith look like Jedi by comparison, and so friend and foe would unite for the sake of the galaxy above all else.​

​

There were those who did not understand, who cared more for politics and rhetoric than galactic prosperity. Some were still stuck in the past, fighting a war of their own making, perpetuating a cause and ideal which was not as imminent a threat as the horde which had dealt damage to both Sith and Jedi alike. Gerwald hated the agreement, but he would stand by it to fight a monster which was more dangerous than the ones Gerwald already knew.​

​

"I do not trust Prazutis. We must keep an eye on him."​

​

It was then Gerwald felt the ship. No sooner had the words left his mouth than a sickening darkness seeped deep into his bones. This was not the darkness the Lupine was familiar with, or had embraced for the sake of his promises to Naedira. This was something deeper, older, more ancient than anything he had felt before.​

​

SAVE ONCE!​

​

NAALOL!​

​

Gerwald cast his glance back to where Prazutis stood, a faint orange glow which seemed to be an attempt to rend an opening to another world, a dark place, one that would usher in something which Gerwald knew they could not defeat.​

​

No one could!​

​

It was foolish. He knew Darth Prazutis thrived on chaos, that he was one who would destroy a thing before giving it up. He had killed Naedira simply for opposing him, and because he could. Gerwald had fallen victim to his torture, because the man could exert his power, and no other reason. Now he would do the same here, or try.​

​

Gerwald would not let him.​

​

He could not let him.​

​

"No one interrupts me or gets past you. We must stop the Mountain!"​

​

With terror in his eyes, and sense of dread neither would have felt from him before, Gerwald looked to the two at his side.​

​

"If he succeeds, he will kill us all."​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

BETWEEN YINCHORR AND DANTOOINE // IN NEUTRAL SPACE
Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt // Maynard Treicolt
GREY AREA​

F L A S H B A C K

There was a coldness that crept over Loske’s skin as she stood rigid, looking upward. Her eyes had been trained on the Imperial’s freighter as soon as it broke through the atmosphere. She’d watched its shape grow from the size of a speck to the size of a raisin to its final form that billowed out landing pad debris that ruffled anything loose about her body. But remained steadfast in her watch. She’d done enough not moving in this situation –– held in check by the blackout of information.

After Major General Voi’Kryt had taken Maynard, they’d both gone dark. All Djorn Bline had been able to find out for her was that the Red Riders had departed Yinchorr. There’d been no official report submitted about the captive. And with his sedation, the beacon at the end of that ethereal tether had been dim and unfindable. His destructive behaviour had him yanked back by the collar and put in a timeout that she couldn’t touch.

A timeout that fired back, biting through flesh and scorching its fury through his leg. As merciful as it might have been, Loske still barked out in horror and moved to be there for the staggering clutch that of the sedated general. She only looked away from the wound and at the raven-haired Imperial when the woman spoke.

“I will leave you with this. Don’t fight the wrong battles again General, there is a much larger picture. You cost the lives of your men, my men, and much more. You had all the cards but it was my hand that was forced on Yinchorr. Your survival was irrelevant, do you understand? Don’t make that mistake again,”
“-the Sith certainly would prey upon such.”

Yinchorr had been a mistake and they’d paid for it. Their currency had been time and pain –– values that never deprecated. Loske’s throat tightened in anger, concerning herself with the well-being of her husband rather than a response. Mostly because she didn’t disagree with the woman’s perspective. She might have admitted as much to Ryv, but Maynard’s retribution had been unleashed without question on Yinchorr. A soldier’s duty –– but he was so much more than a soldier now.

“You’re a General now. You have more influence than ever before and a say in how we –– the Alliance, the Jedi ––move forward."

All of that anger he had to pour out had come back and bitten him in the...leg.

There was no further exchange –– what could she say to Lyra Voi’Kryt? Thank you? She wasn’t thankful. Not for any of it, other than having him back in her arms. Worse for wear, but back with her in that togetherness that they struggled to actualize in the reality of war. Her eyes closed, pressing against him.

He felt like a shell. The same body that had left, but everything within was withdrawn and clouded, hurt and burdened. Like if she moved too quickly, he might disappear. It was worse than before Yinchorr after their last meaningful conversation about the future and that semi-unresolved conflict.

While he was gone, she’d been overwhelmed with a swirling tempest of timelines; blinded by all the things yet to come her mother had shown her. Amidst the ten billion individual images that comprised a lifespan in incoherent order, only one stuck out consistently. The only thing she was certain of was the need to be together with the wayward Mandalorian again. Every waking moment of her anxiety, she’d never felt such crusading clarity. That same crystal-clear vision they spoke about but got muddied by conflict and responsibility. In the end, it was all for them. Everything they did. As many times as he forestalled their timeline, he’d given her the opportunity to get there sooner and she’d given him the same answer he gave her that she found so frustrating.

“We’re not ready. Not now."

In that stretch of time apart, she’d somehow re-educated herself on what she’d known and maybe fallen into a rhythm of taking for granted. She had to focus on what was ahead of them in the immediate timeline and draw strength from the hope associated with their cause.

Their generation was closer than ever before to finally annihilating The Sith’s influence in the galaxy. And the upcoming battle was only the first of the series of conflicts her ghost mother had forebodingly revealed. The future was bright, and if they were successful, and she focused enough to make it happen, they’d succeed in making that better enough for her to commit in confidence to her wants.

“I want a family. But in a world where they won't be hurt. At least, not the hurt of war and loss.”

"Soon...I think-... I think we should try. For-...a part of the dream."

As always, the cycle would continue, and did so even now, without consideration of the pair. Impulsively, she pulled him closer to her.

---

---

---

THE NEW JEDI ORDER
JEDI-IMPERIAL JOINT STRIKE TEAM
TAKE THE POWER BACK

​

With The Sword of the Jedi manifesting a gossamer shield, Loske fluidly swapped from the defensive to the offensive. Her hilt shot into her palm, effortless in its activation and application of deft strikes into the legionnaires that protected the Ziggernaut of immodest evil.

In a sequence of sweeping arcs, tight left-right-left-rights, dodges, slips, dips and twists, there was an apparentness to the execution. Her movements were faster than before, and practice had nothing to do with it. The focus of Jedi versus Sith was enough to restore the Pontifex’s prodigy back to rhythm; and the additional spiritual boost was proving to be an asset today –– so long as the other shoe didn’t drop.

Someone grabbed her wrist, yanking her to the left and out of the way of an unseen bolt that whizzed through the empty space she’d just been. The ray was at a body-ripping velocity and she flushed an appreciative “Thanks” to the helpful Imperial Knight who only returned a curt nod.

The exchange was simple enough, but it frightened her. Usually, her senses were sharper than that, even amidst the squandering of evil. Typically the dark side’s influence was far more muted. Today though, she could hear it whispering and pulling –– even when she didn’t mean to listen. She could only trace an explanation back to the exchange of power between her mother and herself on Yinchorr. She’d been discombobulated and measurably afflicted ever since. So much of that spirit, for all it was light it was dark, was now imprinted on Loske’s previously untainted persona. Here, the darkness was so thick, she felt as if it was touching her skin.

Forcing herself to the present, she snapped a glance over her shoulder at the second defense, only to see Ryv knocked on his back. But not alone. Good. She grinned in the satisfaction of knowing more and more members of the New Jedi Order, the likes of Shaka Sunstar and Cotan Sar'andor , were rallying to defy its founder of that future he saw for himself.

"I know what'll happen to me, Loske. I know the truth of it. I'm gonna die young, bloody, and alone. "

Further ruminations were interrupted by an explosion a distance away. Silhouettes of companions committed to the press on the temple were felled by the advantageous vehicles and their cavalry of drivers.

“Speeders.” Loske exhaled hotly, looking in the direction of Maynard with a modicum of humorous envy. It had been so long since she’d been in a swoop bike race, and an ounce of nostalgia flickered through her. “Why didn’t we think of that?”

There was little time to think about much of anything these days. Instinct and righteous insight drove them forward. Sanctioned by the will of The Force. The same will that moved her to react at an attack that was barely announced by a lunging growl from a legionnaire who executed a move of incredible swiftness of one so large. The renegade Sith-soldier launched at her, and she blocked the stab with equal speed, riposting with a counter slash that was barely parried away. He’d caught her off guard though, for the second time, and she was negotiated into a hold between swords. A low buzzing sound rose from the straining power units as each sabre sought to override the other. With a grunt, she tore her golden blade from the lock and wrenched back to collect enough momentum for a forward pierce through the armoured chest of the demonic figure. She couldn’t see the surprise on their face, but she could feel it well enough in the way they staggered.

She yanked her glowing blade free and gave it a shake as if it’d been stained with the soldier’s lifeblood and moved her free hand forward, bubbling out an invisible agent that sent the protector of the unholy sanctuary backward –– right into the path of an off-course speeder. The collision was gruesome, and those behind him fell back to reconvene and collect themselves to prepare for another attack to prevent the push of the vigilant Jedi.

"Jedi!"
"A King has requested our aid! So I ask you: who are we to deny his majesty!? Form up on Loske! On my order, raise your shields! I will not allow us to fall so close to our target!"

A..who? The attempt to identify royalty on the battlefield was just another train of thought cut short by the necessity to act. Especially if she was being defined as a point person. Usually, she’d be confident with the dependence on her position, but she was nervous. She still hadn’t wrangled the unpredictableness of her recently reinforced abilities. But a shield, that was pretty straightforward, and one of her most well-practiced techniques for both the defensive and offensive utilization.

Nodding once to Cotan Sar'andor as he approached, Loske prepared for obeying Ryv's instructions.

"Hope everyone is ready! Shields up!"

Her blade idled and withdrew, returning back to the clip at her hip and she lifted both empty hands outward. An undulating trail of gossamer followed her gestures, gathering energy before blossoming and stretching up, up, up, up, and outward. Growing in latitude and longitude, the shimmering stasis field absorbed renegade bolts that dared threaten it. Despite her best efforts, she still flinched once-or-twice when a shot was consumed by the shield at nose-height. The red plasma connecting with the purple-blue barriere and skittering harmlessly.

In unison, they’d step forward and prevail to the entrance; given the success of the supposed King’s attack.

THE NEW JEDI ORDER​

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | Ryv | Enlil | Maynard Treicolt | Cotan Sar'andor | Shaka Sunstar | Zaavik Perl | Detritus Ren | Hans Rennagen
ENEMIES | TSE | ELDER COMPACT | Enyo Typhos | Darth Daiara