Invasion No Quarter | NIO Invasion of TSE held Dantooine

[Runi Verin]

LOCATION: SAFE HOUSE NEAR THE SITH ENCLAVE
OBJECTIVE: STEAL SOME DUDE’S OSIK SURVIVE
GEAR: Vornskr Mk8 Scattergun, Tal Oya’karir, Muun'bajir, Terentatek Duster, Asheran Armorweave, Taak’tabi, Nwûl
ALLIES: Amea Virou
ENEMIES: AMCO | TSE
FOLKS MESSING UP A PERFECTLY GOOD HEIST: NIO | GA | ETC

There it was, that sweet sound of metal upon flesh.

Runi allowed herself the fleeting second to smile - or at least the closest the Kiffar could come to one - as Amea sent Vandiir reeling with a flying punch. The only way it would have been more gratifying was if it was her own fist cannoneering into the side of the smug Sith Lord's face. Of course, it also would have been more gratifying if the damage appeared to stick. Instead the man's features seemed to ebb... and flow... back into their original position, carefully refined features replacing the formerly misshapen.

"Kark me," Runi breathed as she stood in the epicenter of the wreckage she had wrought, her shoulder still feeling the reverb effects of the force enhanced punch. Her ribs felt like fire now from the exertion; as if molten lead had been poured along the length and breadth of her sternum. Understandable then, that was a flicker of envy undercutting the anger in her voice as she continued, slowly stepping out up and out of the crater. "Gotta admit, that's a neat trick."

It didn't seem natural and a tech advancement would have made ripples. Alchemy, perhaps? Cerita was her only real frame of modern reference for the biological side of the art, but even she hadn't stooped to experimenting on herself. One thing to create a sithspawn, another to become one yourself. Part of her wanted to question and investigate further, but the reappearance of the spectral quartet put a kabosh on that.

She cracked her neck to the side, rolling her shoulder to try and loosen it as she took up a position to the rear of Amea, trusting her to watch her back in exchange for the same. "Punching seemed to work on Vandiir. You want to try two for two or...?"

 

[Amea Virou]

Runi Verin // AMCO

There was something about the sensation of skin on skin. Maybe it was the heat from friction or that slight crack and numb pain as digit for digit slid across the surface of another person’s cheek. It was the smallest pleasure in survival, the pain that brought you further and further away from ‘maybe dead’ and closer in the direction of ‘maybe alive’ as long as you weren’t on the receiving end. Not that Amea had a problem with it, but as far as fists went she liked to steer clear of anything even remotely labeled with a big ‘SITH’ label on it.

And as she turned around and refocused on the man only to see his face seemingly melt back into one big whole again, she couldn’t do much more than mouth a quiet, “What the f-” before she exhaled and began to look around the room to see that the man, this freak of nature, had called forth his lackeys again.

“So I guess that proves that,” She scoffed and shook her hands to make sure parts of this monster hadn’t got stuck between her fingers or something. “You truly are a coward then.”

Typical Sith, she figured. They were all talk until the pressure mounted around them at which point it was time for either fight or flight. Fight being a display of force, and flight being just about the one thing she had come to expect of this man — no, this beast. She refused to see him as anything more now that the curtain had been lifted and his true nature had been brought forth.

Her back was practically lined up against Runi’s by the time that she had recovered. Her skin still felt slick from the hit, an illusion of the mind as if she had just dipped her hand in a bucket of grease.

“If by two for two you mean I want double prize money from the contractor, yeah.” Amea laughed for a moment and let out a sigh to calm the nerves. “We’ve outrun a nuke once. What’s a shade or two in comparison, right?”

“Are you saying we strike at the source?” Amea spoke, clearly aware that the abomination next to them would be able to hear. Hell, there was practically a hint of disdain lingering on her tongue. “Or that we should make a run for it? That could work too.”

 

[Ruek Tast]

Allies: Iasha Rha | Alina Tremiru | Arctus Silmar
Opposition: Mishel Kryze | Other Space Kaiden 's Graug
Gear: Modified E-11 rifle, Sith-Imperial Legionnaire Combat Armor, vibro-hatchet, glop grenade x4, flashbang x1, incendiary grenade x2
​

Red lenses glowed ever softly as Ruek listened. One ear focused on the words of the acolytes while the other remained aware of the echoes in the cave. From somewhere, muffled echoes of music bounced in the caves. Whoever they were Ruek hoped they turned up the volume, a beacon for the Graug to flock to and bottleneck themselves in a cavern. Students of the saber and a hunter versus an unchained horde. At least it was a death gained in service, a thought she wisely kept quiet from the young Sith in her midst.

“We can’t let them do that. It would cause riots, turn the people against us.” Maintaining popular support was difficult, but critical- Or so her textbook said. “If the region is destabilised, the enemy could recruit them.” She bit her lip, then grinned. “Change of plans. We stop this bad order”

Ruek's helmet dipped in a deep nod, "We cannot allow a shake in the people. The Empire is a shield as much as a sword." Water parted around the armament of Ruek's legs as she waded to a stony cap of ground. Laying aside her vibro-hatchet she took count of what she had, head shaking at the meager supply, "Have only two incendiaries left, a flashbang, and the four sticky grenades I started with. Not much, but it is something." Her fingers tapped each of the various explosive eggs as she counted them, gracing them with a smear of Graug blood that had dripped from her gauntlets. Another acolyte spoke, a young woman much taller than Ruek's humble height.

"We already need to stop one army. How will we stop this one as well? They dig through the ground, right? We can't bury them. And killing them is a fools errand. Do we know who gave the order? Perhaps we can talk with them?" She paused. No, whoever gave the order wouldn't listen to a group of acolytes. "Or.. Should we find someone who can talk to them?"

The vibro-hatchet scraped against the rock as Ruek picked it up, "Not saying it is not a good idea but these caverns are crawling with those bastards. Their leader is a demon and lurks here still. But if we get top--" She halted her speech, a rasping voice shuddering through the caves and toward their position. Ruek seized the rifle from her back and leapt into the knee-deep waters again, circling in with the acolytes as the mouthpiece of the demon Vulcanus rang out.

Kantus breathed his energy into the Immortal Wind and allowed his essence to engulf the warrior's. They responded with howls of lust and hunger. "We must not let such insults disrupt our God's will! Turn back to the depths and feast upon Sithling flesh! First the Sithlings, then all of the world above!"

The priest's voice had risen to a fervent crescendo that echoed down the caverns and in response hundreds of howling voices as the horde turned heel and charged to defile those who dared defy them their feast...

The rifle’s nose jerked from one passage entrance to another, the unholy count of ravenous growls echoing down the halls to make a twisted harmony. With one hand on the trigger her other hand went to her belt, readying a glop grenade to gum up the arrival of at least a few of the brutes. She positioned herself just slightly in front of the acolytes, having resigned herself to be what gave them a head start if needed.

 

[Sturit Goan]

// FERAL ACTUAL // LIEUTENANT COLONEL GOAN
// OBJECTIVE // ASSAULT ON GARANG CITY // SPEARHEAD
// FOCUS // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Tavius Muuaji Vostok Grauv Daros Karmann Hayek Sinestra Meko Sorrin Lucien Dooku Dhuzgnar DT-2319 Gedeon Rath Rexus Wenck // NIO GROUNDPOUNDERS // SITH OPPRESSORS // Ty Sibo // Maybe Luna Terrik
// EQUIPMENT // Combat Assault Tank Armor Mk. 1, KXR SFR-58 'Bozdugan' Blaster Rifle, REC-DC/04 "Feverwasp" Pattern Particle Blaster Pistol, Miscellaneous Equipment
// BATTALION // 8TH MECHANIZED BATTALION “FERAL BATTALION” // x1 Command Unit, x5 Armor Companies, ~56 TXV XT-60b Cataphract-class Repulsor Main Battle Tanks, ~14 All-Terrain Armoured Shield Generators, Miscellaneous Support Vehicles // SAPPER SUPPORT COMPANY // Daros Karmann , TXT XV-60a Armored Personnel Carriers, Engineers //

​

Sturit's eyes widened as he checked the shield readings again. <"Not a tank?">

The lieutenant shook his head. <"No sir. The shot came from an apartment building.">

That'd have to be one hell of a rifle to even affect the AT-ASG's shields by a full percent. This wasn't a normal shooter; none of the militia other units were facing had that kind of firepower. <"Civilians?">

<"Not sure, sir. It appears it's been evacuated, but we can't be sure of the other buildings; there's a bit of interference.">

Sturit's eyes went to where the shooter ( Ty Sibo ) had been marked. <It's a ways up, and we need to keep moving. Options?">

<"We have a stormtrooper company, not far, they can sweep in. Crimson Company.">

<"Give me a line."> The lieutenant pulled up the comms channel and Sturit spoke.

<<"Crimson Actual this is Feral Actual. We're leading the convoy up, there are a few stragglers. Marking targets, over,">> he said, pausing for the affirmative. <<"Clear them out, check the nearby buildings as well. Out.">>

Poor sniper. It'd just be a threat to those not completely covered by the ASGs spread throughout the column -- though their placement protected nearly all of their accompanying infantry. The tear gas dispersed after a minute and the stormtroopers switched back to their usual targeting over thermals. Sturit left that issue out of his mind.

He had enough to worry about with all the other comms traffic coming in. <<"Blackjack Three this is Feral Actual, we're continuing towards the central garrison Libra Gold. We'll be in range once we reach the park district in about two klicks. Over.">>

He switched channels again, switching to his current CO. <<"Vindicate Actual this is Feral Actual. Solid copy. We'll pick up the pace. I'm assigning Bacchus Company to the public works sector, infantry support would be appreciated. Over.">>

As much as he respected Voi'kryt and so many others, there were times where he wished people would abide by proper comms etiquette. Still, her orders were loud and clear and he relayed them to the battalion a few moments later.

The repulsors of the Cataphracts and the great legs of the ASGs thrummed with anticipation. It was as if the pressure had built up enough; a great beast was awakening. The attack up until this point had rarely warranted the full power of the battalion. New Imperial infantry and special forces units had cleared out the majority of the column's opposition before it could even challenge them. The S-imperial armor units had been almost comically absent from his tours on the Braxant, and it'd keep biting them until someone put together a real defense.

Bacchus peeled west after six hundred meters, shattering a barricade a klick away on their turn. Once more the ASGs proved to be a vital asset; the three anti-tank guns placed in the roadblock would've been enough to crack a Cataphract, but not the heavy shielding. Three of the walkers followed Bacchus while the rest continued their march up the road.

<"Half klick to the waypoint,"> the lieutenant alerted him. Sturit glanced at the tacmap. <"Picking up enemy armor and Force signatures.">

Sith, real Sith. Not just their soldiers. That could be a problem.

<"I'm thinking the Cataphracts raise their height. Rougher shot angle for the main cannon, but makes them a harder target and harder to reach for the Sith.">

<"Wouldn't setting a perimeter improve our chances?"> The lieutenant drew a semicircle on the map, just outside of the mouth of the road leading into the park district. <"Better defense, better offense, too, with the siege mode, and more cover for the infantry.">

<"Vindicate wants us to move. We wait too long and they'll just slam us. The ASG shields should keep our boys safe, and we want to pour in quick, else there's just more tanks piled up along the road and more chance for them to bottleneck us.">

The lieutenant nodded. <"Guess our only worry should be if we go too high and break the no-fly zone.">

They shared a laugh. Sturit took another look at the sensor readings then hit the comms, addressing the spearhead in its entirety.

<<"This is Feral Actual. We're moving into the park district, picked up Sith and hostile armor signatures. Crius company, raise your repulsor height, stay in the shield and push in over the buildings. Infantry, use slugthrowers and grenades to clear out the Forcers. Don't stop moving. Give us enough space to bring the full column. Blackjack, be ready for field repairs. Targets marked. Give 'em hell. Over.">>

 

[Iasha Rha]

Alina Tremiru Ruek Tast Other Space Kaiden Arctus Silmar

Iashas’s mind was whirring with plays, scouring the memory of academy textbooks on applied combat strategies. She gritted her teeth in annoyance as she failed to remember any that would apply to the situation. The feeling worsened as the situation grew suddenly more dire.

Their new opponent was there.

She could feel the fear flare up in her chest. Her stomach dropped as her face suddenly felt cold. Her lekku withdrew fully to the back of her head, wanting to be away from the enemy as much as possible.

But there was nowhere to go where they could not follow.

Iasha quickly pulled out her sabre and ignited the red blade, holding it above her head in an aggressive stand as her eyes quickly surveyed their surroundings. There was something Alina said earlier, something that could come into play. What was it?!

Her new allies were all getting ready to fight, and time slowed down. In her adrenaline, in the fear and search for self-preservation, the young Sithling found something; a straw to grasp

“Chokepoints!”

She yelled out. Her left hand let go of her sabre and pointed at what could be seen as supports for parts of the cave. They couldn’t necessarily bury the Graug, but they could make it harder for them to surround their little squadron.

She lashed out with her sabre, slashing through a meaty hand and sending severed fingers tumbling to the floor before she dodged back to get out of crushing-distance.

There was something else she could not quite remember, something about crystals.

 

[Taeli Raaf]

TSE/CIS Allies: Kyyrk Thaelius Kiff Brayde Verin Oldo Onrai
NIO Enemies: Robogeber Var Koon Naier Rambeigh Hiram Voss Josiah Navollius

In System - A Few Minutes Ago

Commander Gorola was watching the enemy fleet, wondering why they hadn't moved to wipe them out yet. His little flotilla wouldn't last long, and while Admiral Ordo had brought his forces into the system, it still wouldn't be enough. Something else was afoot. Movement on the port side of the enemy fleet caught his attention. It would seem someone was starting to maneuver their ships in preparation for whatever they had planned. But by and large... the enemy was even keeping their fighter craft close to their capital ships and not harassing them. They must know the distress signal went out by now... they hadn't even jammed out system comms.

"How long until Lady Aracnix and Admiral Sentongo are in system?" he asked his bridge officer.

"A few more minutes, Commander," was the expected reply. The sensor display started flashing as another force arrived at the edge of the system, displaying friendly IFFs. Classes were identified as those ships under Lady Vantai.

"Lady Vantai brought a lot of firepower, send telemetry data to her forces as well. How long until systems are automated or bridge controlled?"

He received several comments that it would be another few minutes before they had weapons online from the bridge, but shields were good. It would have to be enough. Something still didn't seem right to the old commander.

Task Force 74 - Present

Taeli frowned as the data from Commander Gorala continued to be examined. NIV Tregessar was present, and knowing that vessel like was named after a famed Sith and First Order admiral gave her and Sentongo an inkling who was commanding the NIO fleet. Having fought in the wars between the GA and the First Order, she had gotten pretty well versed in their more famous officers. Which was why Taeli, even as they traveled the short hyperspace jump from Gravlex Med to Dantooine, had called her wife Fiolette Raaf

"I think it might be an old acquaintance of yours, love," she was saying. "I don't know many former First Order officers still in New Imperial territory, but Intelligence says it might Rausgeber or some disciple of his. I can never get a clear answer on that one."

The bridge of the Elidibus began echoing with the klaxon of imminent emergence from hyperspace. The transmission distorted for a moment as MORGAUSE shifted the comm channel to a more secure one.

"I expect this battle will get a bit hectic, given his reputation, but I think we can push them back with the Confederate forces with us too," she continued, her gaze shifting from the image of her wife to her crew for a moment. They were issuing commands and instructions to the other ships in the task force, making sure squadrons were prepped to launch as soon as they emerged, making sure shields and weapons were primed, and on and on it went. It was comforting in a way that some things never changed. In the Force, she was linking herself with the other Sith under her command to create their battle meld that had worked fairly well during the battle at PL, but her attention wasn't fully there yet. "I love you, Fio, and I'll see you soon."

The tunnel of hyperspace started to narrow, breaking apart... and the task force emerged into the Dantooine system on a slightly lower plane of space as the enemy fleet that was slowing beginning to move. A flood of sensor data started streaming in, IFFs being identified. An eyebrow arched as she recognized Vanessa's dreadnaught and all her battlecruisers. She wasn't aware she was nearby to the incursion, but all the better.

"Long range fire detected from some NIO ships, outer ships are reporting stress on shields from hypervelocity rounds."

"Probing us early, have the Sorzus, Vul Isen, and Scabrous return fire with their own long-range armaments. The enemy aren't the only with a long reach," Sentongo ordered, turning to the hangar control officer, "Launch fighters, keep them in defensive formation." Taeli didn't pay attention to all of this, her focus shifting to the Sith under her command spread throughout their fleet and to reaching out to Darth Voph and Vanessa, inviting them to join their nexus of power and coordination.

"Intership comms are being jammed."

No surprise there, Taeli thought, issuing the order from Sentongo to the Sith Adepts on the bridge of the three ships designated to open up the bombardment.

Spoiler

Task Force 74

• Elidibus - Elidibus-class Star Dreadnaught (10000m, 41 Squadrons)
• Sorzus Syn - Dowager II-class Battlecruiser (4000m, 6 Squadrons)
• Vul Isen - Revenge-type Star Destroyer (1703m, 0 Squadrons)
• Scabrous - Revenge-type Star Destroyer (1703m, 0 Squadrons)
• Rivan - Marr II-class Star Destroyer (1856m, 11 Squadrons)
• Freedon Nadd - Marr II-class Star Destroyer (1856m, 11 Squadrons)
• Tahm - Harrower-class Cruiser (800m, 7 Squadrons) - 89% shields from long-range attack
• Amanoa - Harrower-class Cruiser (800m, 7 Squadrons) - 76% shields from long-range attack
• Fulminiss - Harrower-class Cruiser (800m, 7 Squadrons)
• Ommin - Harrower-class Cruiser (800m, 7 Squadrons)
• Haazen - Stormcloud III-type Cruiser (840m, 0 Squadrons)
• Warb Null - Stormcloud III-type Cruiser (840m, 0 Squadrons)
• Terentatek - Athena-class Shield Frigate (450m, 0 Squadrons)
• Tuk'ata - Athena-class Shield Frigate (450m, 0 Squadrons)
• Chrysalide - Athena-class Shield Frigate (450m, 0 Squadrons)
• Derriphan - Athena-class Shield Frigate (450m, 0 Squadrons)
• Talon I-XVI - Bolt V-class Corvettes (16 x 60m, 0 Squadrons)
• Pinion - Fortan IV-class Corvette (200m, 1 Squadron)
• Beak - Fortan IV-class Corvette (200m, 1 Squadron)
• Bronze - Fortan IV-class Corvette (200m, 1 Squadron)
• Claw - Mukhtiar III-class Corvette (180m, 0 Squadron)
• Fang - Mukhtiar III-class Corvette (180m, 0 Squadron)
• Strike - Mukhtiar III-class Corvette (180m, 0 Squadron) - 23% shields from long-range attack

4th Flotilla

• Pride of Kaas - Marr II-class Star Destroyer (3 Squadrons)
• Spear of Ragnos - Marr II-class Star Destroyer (7 Squadrons)
• Reclaimer - Marr II-class Star Destroyer (5 Squadrons)
• Jerec's Wrath - Harrower-class Cruiser (0 Squadrons)
• Tavion - Harrower-class Cruiser (4 Squadrons)
• Desann - Harrower-class Cruiser (2 Squadrons)
• Pyron - Harrower-class Cruiser (3 Squadrons)

Fleet Actions:

Spoiler

• Arrived in system​
• Launched fighters into defense formation​
• Sorzus Syn, Vul Isen, and Scabrous fire their own long-range weaponry at the Trialleurs under Josiah Novallius​
• Rest of the Fleet holds position awaiting the arrival of the other allied forces​

 

[Alina Tremiru]

Allies: TSE, Iasha Rha , Ruek Tast , Arctus Silmar
Enemies: NIO, Mishel Kryze , Other Space Kaiden
The Enclave - Path to Crystal Caverns

"No, this is wrong. This is wrong." The booming voice through the caverns sent a chill right through Alina's body. Fear. Pure and simple fear. The creatures from before, the dead ones. The large monsters of the Dark. They were coming. They were hunting. They were going to eat her and these other acolytes before they even had a chance to fight the New Imperials. The real enemy.

That sense of hopelessness filled her. These were supposed to be allies. Allies. Companions. She closed her eyes, actually preparing herself to resign to death. One of these mindless creatures came charging at her, and she couldn't even move.

“Chokepoints!”

The shout couldn't of come at a better time. The sudden need to survive sprang form as Alina did, her rage and fear empowering her as she struck down the beast attacking. She screamed at it as her blade ripped through it's flesh, and she didn't stop at one cut. Again and again, hacking it to pieces before she fell back with the other Acolytes.

Adrenaline was a perfect motivator for thought process. Where Iasha was having trouble remembering, Alina didn't. "The crystals! If you fill them with enough energy they'll explode. We can turn this into a mine field." Yes. Maybe a chain reaction? That'd prove plenty dangerous to them, but now they were facing the swarm of Graug that would surely kill them.

"Those of you who can, use lighting on the crystals by the checkpoint! Those who can't, protect them!"

 

[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

​

"Do not falter, control yourself. Discipline will win the day here, Sunstrider. They will seek to bend what you believe, they will seek to control your emotions. Remain resolute. "

The words of the Imperial Knight were not lost on the Jedi. Oceiros knew those words, they’d been ones shared with him by the late Arcanus. Yet, what was one supposed to feel? Nothing? In the face of one who slayed their kin, was Oceiros not supposed to feel fury? Was he not supposed to feel pain? Was he to simply bottle all those emotions and pretend they did not exist? Many in the galaxy thought that Jedi were unfeeling, cold, on the verge of being machines. That couldn’t have been any further from the truth. The same as the Sith drew or could draw and feel emotions, so to could a Jedi. It was simply that a Jedi could not allow themselves to be consumed by those emotions they felt. In these times as he looked upon the towering malignant force that was Darth Carnifex , Oceiros found himself succumbed in a tide of sensations that gnawed at his being.

"Sunstrider," he spoke, the single solitary word reverberating with such force that all other sounds appeared muted in the wake of its uttering. "As expected."​

As the demon spoke the Sunstrider name, Oceiros could feel the deep resonating voice in his core. A voice that shook the epicanthix to the core. What stood before Oceiros and aside Thurion was no simple Sith, he was an incarnation of the dark in one of its purest forms. Insides twisting just being in the once Emperor’s presence, the Jedi realized how it was his cousin had fallen.

So lost in the being before him Oceiros had grown deaf and blind to the rest of the world. In his reality everything else had fallen to leave just him and Carnifex, a thread of the force tethering them together. A tether that had brought him here. Taking a step forward, Oceiros realized where he was, only for the world to come back into view as the Lord Executor flew at the Sith Lord.

All the actions that took place had happened so fast, Oceiros had barely managed to register it. Rurik dashing at Carnifex, Carnifex seeking to impale the other, then Thurion saving Rurik’s life. All happening in the span of the blink of an eye. The Jedi had known he was out of his depth, but only now did the difference truly begin to sink in.

With Master Heavenshield now standing between Oceiros and Carnifex, the Jedi looked to the other. The words he spoke for all their worth truly falling short when he stood next to a being that in his time had done as much damage to the galaxy as the Brynadul, that would continue to do such if left unchecked.

“Master Heavenshield there are other allies, no one wishes to see the galaxy plunged into war once more. But there is a difference between banding together to face a bigger threat and allowing another to continue on due to convenience. You have had the wool pulled over your eyes Master Heavenshield. You defend one, no, an empire that would turn on you at the moment you grow weakest from fighting the Brynadul.”

With each word and sentence, Oceiros approached the other, his hands held up, lightsaber deactivated in his grasp. “The blind can not lead the blind Master Heavenshield, nor can you lead us or others when you stand opposed to what must be done. I won't raise my blade against you Master Heavenshield, but the blight that is Carnifex must end on this day. I beg you to step aside.”

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

 

[Jorus Fel]

P R I V A T E _ K O N R A D _ H A Y E K
Charlie Squad, Crimson Company, 8th Airborne
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
S P E A R H E A D
SUPPORTING: Sturit Goan | Daros Karmann | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
ENGAGING: Ty Sibo

S T O R M T R O O P E R S​

Even with the Sarge's reassuring Archaisian words, my feet still felt soft as fresh noodles. I was not the only one feeling the same. Every street, every corner, every door - a potential date with death. We had to fight fear as much as we had to fight the Sith.

But we carried on.

In the name of the standard.

In the name of the Empire.​

In the name of the Imperator.​

We were men among men.

We were the Imperator's Fist. ​

The 501st.​

​

The advance continued and we paid the price in rivers of blood. Defiant souls, we would forever remember them as they gave their lives for the push. The push. That was all there is. Push on and on, not a step back. We crashed into junctions fortified by militiamen, legionnaires, and confederates - they gave us hell.

We pushed on.

Not a step back.

We lost Sagar when he tried to negotiate with militiamen to drop his weapon. Bang. His head was gone. The Dantooinian boomstick could shred a bantha, we were told and witnessed on our own accord. Reid, the lady from Bravo Squad, I had the slight crushes on - a sniper took her out. We scattered away, took us decades before we could snuff the scumbag off his nest; we left her behind to the vultures, there was no time to waste, Command said "Push" and we pushed, on and on.

Only the dead see the end of the war, someone said, and we found a spark of relief in it that the anguish was over for our fallen comrades.

In the midst of us, we saw ranks and files of special operations. Sent by Vindicate-Actual to aid us with the push. Obsidian armor in heavy contrast with the muddied, grime white armor we all bore. The real spooks. Visors glared at visors, animosity flared. It had always been there. We were the 8th - we were capable of special operations on our own. Veterans found Voi'kryt's decision as spite against the 501st, others like me welcomed it. Manpower was heavily needed. We'd lost more than just a bunch throwing ourselves into the meat grinder set up by the Sith.

They were surgical. Clearing of buildings seemed like playtime for these ghosts. I never asked how adherent they were to the rules of engagements set up. I didn't want to know.

"Alright, troopers. We've got a request from Feral-Actual to clear buildings bogging down the armor's advance." Sarge relayed the message down from Crimson Actual - the Captain. "We're the closest so we're going. Form up a file on me. Let's go."

Shuffling cautiously through alleys and streets, we reached our target - a building overlooking the runway of the armor's advance.

"Oof, that's a tough one, Sarge." Dallas observed as he peeked over.

"Looks like it." he replied curtly then went straight to business, "Fireteam Alpha - you're gonna pop in smokes on each side, give Bravo the cover they need to plant the charges. Bravo, you know the drill. Get your dets ready."

A few moments later we confirmed and gave the signal. A series of thuds let loose the smoke 'nades and we were off under the guise of thick grey screen. As one of the quicker runners in the squad, I hit the furthest corner of the building. My breath shortened, you never know when is the final round going to hit you. I tripped at the final stretch and tumbled like an idiot but adrenaline saved me. I set up the shaped charge last, the others confirming their own a second prior. Dragging myself up in a panic, I scattered away as fast as I could into the alleys to safety just as the ear breaking explosions were set off aiming to blow the building's foundation and bring it all down.


/EDIT: as per the request of the opposition.

ALLIES | NIO | Tavius Muuaji | Meko Sorrin | Daros Karmann | Sturit Goan | DT-2319 | Gedeon Rath | Rexus Wenck | Lucien Dooku | Sinestra | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Dhuzgnar

ENEMIES | TSE | THE ELDER COMPACT | OPEN TO INTERACTION | Joycelyn Zambrano | Darth Prazutis | Gnox the Insatiable | Frank Sterling | Alisteri Haxim | Aiden Wolf | Aurelion Nova | Cara Dorniarn

 

[Rexus Wenck]

Operation Harvest Dark
Codename: Rommulus and Remus FT. Hannibal
Objective: Find someone to merc.
Allies: Gedeon Rath | Dergan Twigg (x) | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Irveric Tavlar | Djorn Bline | Tavius Muuaji | Vostok Grauv | Tyrell Paxxus | Meko Sorrin | Lucien Dooku | Hayek | Sturit Goan | Daros Karmann
Enemies: Darth Prazutis | Any Sith Scum | Confederate Carpetbaggers
Rexus Gear: DARKSABRE MK IX [x] | G-6E Blaster Pistol [x] | G-12A Blaster Rifle [x] | Blackwing Electric Sword [x] | Lightsaber
Twigg Gear: DARKSABRE MK IX [x] | G-6E Blaster Pistol [x] | G-12A Blaster Rifle [x] | Blackwing Electric Sword [x]


Rexus grinned from ear to ear as he and his other musketeers were briefed on mission objectives by Vindicate Actual. Turning to eye Twigg, Rexus smirked and licked his lips. "Roger that Vindicate Actual, we are moving." Rexus then turned his comrades in the blaster scorched street, "We're headed west from here," Rexus barked, as the digital map appeared on his HUD. "Seems there's some sort of Sith support formation." Wenck added, "I say we have a quick look before we engage." Picking up his rifle, Rexus once again took point.

The small unit disappeared from out of the cover of the shield generator, and now began to push through the dust and debris strewn alley way, pushing up and through. There was a silence that fell over them as they pushed. That was until a call from Twigg, who'd been pushing the rear. "Take cover! Gas!" Rexus turned, and saw it. Creeping forth at an incredible pace. Gas, sifting through. By the Force! Memories clung to that fateful mission on Skor II. The gas they'd launched. The consequences! Graush! It all flooded at once, tormenting the fragile mind of Rexus. They were in a tautly packed alley. There was no escape. No salvation. Rexus tensed, watching it creep over, and then he read something. Something curious that alleviated the tension.

"It's just tear gas you moron! And how do I take cover against gas? It's bloody gas?! I-" Rexus barked at Twigg, before cocking his head to the side "Nevermind." Cue exasperated sigh. It was useless berating him on this point. But that was not all. Something had captured his attention. This was not just tear gas, no. Well, it was just tear gas. But it was not New Imperial in composition. Nor was it anything the Sith had on file. Wenck pondered a moment as to who would have fired it, but decided not to. Some questions were best left unanswered for now. "We push on."

The tight confines of the alley opened into a near empty boulevard, on what must have at one point been a busy shopping district. It was now removed enough from the fighting to not be entirely devastated by the advance. But Rexus could see it ahead. A makeshift barricade, supported by upturned furnishings and parked speeders. ID saw them as again, pro Sith militia. So no chance of any combat kills unless in self-defence. And that would be hard to argue.

"How do you wanna run this Hannibal?" Rexus posited. "Reckon we got a few ways of doing it." He mused, "Could always pick 'em off with stun rounds from your rifle." Rexus advised, "Or, you could do that, while me and Remus here, walk over and CQC the guys." He gestured to the 7'8 Death Trooper, "I reckon one look of him, unarmed, walking towards them will clear that checkpoint real quick."

 

[Tavius Muuaji]

WEATHER THE STORM
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
STORM COMMANDOS
SPEARHEAD ASSAULT
Armor | Rifle | Pistol | Various Grenades

GUNZ_COME_OUT
​

Some of the rounds had struck his torso, looking down at himself he could see the breaches in his armour, the gel cracked and broken in multiple places. But he rose all the same. He had always been naturally durable, moreso than normal, unbeknownst to him on account of his parents anatomy.

Some of the slugs hit the ground, unable to penetrate the rest of him. The brief reprieve giving him enough time to get up to his feet and shuffle to the other side of the building, waving over at Sinestra . From what he had seen outside of that window, he didn't want to stick around to find out what that giant creature could do.

"Ya see that beast?" He spoke of Ulrich , the beast he only got to catch a glimpse of before hitting the ground, grunting as he used the wall to stabilize his weight. "I can't heal as fast with these bullets in me." Even as he spoke his body slowly worked to reattach parted flesh.

"In here." Kicking down one of the doors on the second floor. He moved to the other side of the building. Reaching up to unfasten one of his shoulder pauldrons, he yanked off his medical kit from its place on his hip, hand shaking as he reached out to Arno to hand it over. "Get out those pincer things,"

Reaching a hand up to the wound at his shoulder, he pressed his index and middle finger to it, a few droplets of his crimson ichor spilling out before sinking his teeth into his lower lip as he tried to spread it open as much as he could -- and then he heard Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt 's voice come over the commline.

<<”Lettow, Muuaji do you read this is Vindicate. Report abnormalities, do we have Cloaks moving or Sith Spawn on the move?”>>

Not a good time.

"<<Muuaji here. There's some giant winged beast in the street. I've never seen anything like it!>>"

He didn't mention the likes of Frank Sterling . As far as he knew he was slagged by the grenade he had fired earlier. They were Imperials. Special Forces. Whatever happened, he'd be confident in his response.

Win or lose.

"<<We'll handle it, General.>>"
ALLIES | NIO | NJO | SOM | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Sinestra | Sturit Goan
ENEMIES | TSE | THE ELDER COMPACT | Aurelion Nova Frank Sterling | Ulrich

 

[Sakadi Marathi Sinvala]

​

Some of her fellow Masters believed that the Force dictated one's every action. Others believed that the Force was more akin to a guide, manifesting through one's instincts. At moments like these, Sakadi believed neither. All that went through her mind, was why the Force had to place such difficult obstacles in her way.

The moment she reached out to the Living Force to deceive the man in the hoverchair, the Empress disappeared from the corner of her eye. She caught a glimpse of the tall warrior rushing at the very woman she just tried to protect. And there was nothing she could do about it. The Sephi was fast, but not fast enough to intervene in time.

Her free hand instinctively moved to the hilt of the shoto-blade clipped to her belt. It was her off-hand weapon, one she only used as such under extreme pressure, or when the situation called for it. But apart from an off-hand weapon, the shoto was also an excellent throwing weapon. Perhaps excellent enough to halt the bring the Empress's assault to a halt.

Sadly, Sakadi wouldn't get the chance to test her theory. Her hand closed around the cold metal hit, unclipping and igniting her secondary weapon's purple blade. She stood on the brink of throwing it, when the ground shook. The street was barricaded by furniture, rubble and overturned landspeeders, but they were easily rammed aside or crushed by the approaching hovertank. It was the first of many, or so she suspected.

The twin-turret blaster cannons rotated until it found its target. A family of five, each wearing a different piece of bright red clothing and armed with cheap slugthrowers. Her shoto flew past them like purple lightning, cutting through the two heavy blaster cannons before it could unleash death on the Imperials. She gracefully caught the weapon as it found its way back to her. She threw a final glance at the charge of the Empress, before her focus shifted fully to the hovertank and the wave of soldiers behind it.

Garang | Joycelyn Zambrano | Auteme | Sor-Jan Xantha​

​

 

[Frank Sterling]

Franks hud in both his helmet and Eye fizzled a bit from the ion granade Thankfully with the high amount of protection his suit gave him It did little but inconvenience him. Huddled behind that pillar a bit longer frank changed out his box mag for a fresh one before taking a peek from behind the pillar seeing no movement. he paused for a bit longer catching his breath thinking he must have pushed them back.

When he heard the telltale sign of whistling from the morter shells he took that as his sign to move. "better late than never moter team." he said as he picked up the power pack and laser battle rifle as he moved out the back of the storefront to link up with the rest of the Sith infantry detachment mixed with SICA militia. "Get your forces together If we want to make a scratch of a difference we need to clear those sky's." Frank said threw hisbattle scarred armor.

getting into a mixture of militia technicals Frank brought the sith armor detachment up to speed with his plan. "look if we want any hope of getting air support in time to save our asses we need to help clear the skys." Murmers escaped the lips of those on the other end of the comline to those in the vehicle before one of the sith vehicle crews piped up. "there's a airfield nearby that was captured by NIO forces if we can take it back there's a large chance we can help clear the skies on top of the airbasehas a planetary defense cannon on it to help our boys in space."

Frank keyed up his coms "then that's were well be headed if we can take that back we may have a better chance at turning this invasion around meet me two clicks from that airfeild." and with that frank and the forces began heading that way.

 

[Ulkahall Svaraghaun]

props to Lyra Voi'kryt for this bomb header

OBJECTIVE ?: CLIP THEIR WINGS

NEW IMPERIAL MARITIME DIVISION

OPEN TO OPPOSITION

w o l f p a c k​

Svaraghaun was standing upon the deck now, allowing the mist of the crashing waves against the side of the destroyer to grace him with the scent of salt sea air. It was something he had missed, keeping someone born asea from the waves for too long was like any other sentient being deprived air. Life simply wasn’t worth living without it. It was the blood that pumped through his veins, it was the electrons snapping commands to his limbs, it was his voice of reason and his voice of destruction. You could read the Grand Admiral based off of the waves of his home planet, and he was certain that in that far flung planet of Tof the waters were calm, well flowing, and predictable.

He brought the macrobinoculars to his eyes, scanning the horizon. Inch by inch he drug the visor over the sightlines, inch by inch he was given nothing but cresting waves and dancing spurts. Nothing to indicate any form of Maritime response against their deployment. He couldn’t say he was surprised, in all honesty, most militaries didn’t bother with aquatic forces anymore. It was a oversight, to be sure. It was an entire field of combat left to the whims of whoever dared to secure it first. Easier trooper movement, easier occupation, and most importantly, easier coastal control.

The Ascension Flotilla traveled wide, they could afford it, thanks to modern weaponry. As soon as their sensors could pick up a hostile, with some basic math and projections, it was entirely possible for the full force to engage whatever target any individual ship attracted the attention of. Though, they made sure to keep the shoreline just in sight enough, to not vanish beyond their knowledge. From here, Svaraghaun could still see the assault on the Sith-Imperial Bunker. Armored divisions, lines of stormtroopers, and the Sith response. Heavy blaster shot and thunderous explosions. A world away from his simple trek on the sea.

He was brought back from his mind’s vacation from the sound of metal scrapping upon metal. Complaints in Basic, and someone very obviously struggling with something. There was a seaman, clad in the basic blue coveralls of a fresh recruit, standing near one of the front facing gunports on the nose of the ship. His twinned port next to him was already manned and deployed, the standard F-Web blaster cannons for harrying hostile forces normally were one of the first things that were snapped to the deck. That along with whatever specialist equipment the Maritime Division may be deploying for that particular operation. The Tof stood there, crossed his arms as he watched. A human, maybe twenty at the best. He had an odd, crunched down grip on the tripod of the F-Web, his knee kept losing it’s place and kept slamming into the durasteel of the vessel. Again, and again. He was pulling and yanking at odd angles and sections of the tripod, fingers taking a harsh grip here and there before slipping off of their grip.

With tall strides, Svaraghaun closed the gap between the two. Letting his hand envelope the entire shoulder of the seaman.

“There an issue, sailor?” His voice boomed out, he could feel it shake through the core of the seaman. Down to the bone.

The boy glanced back up at the Tof from his crouched position, the force against the Tof’s hand telling him that the boy went to stand, probably to salute, but the Grand Admiral simply kept him down at his work. Heavy set brown eyes staring past a thick brow. Betraying no emotion in his voice or his sight. Though, if the sailor could have gleaned any emotion off of the wild beard that the Tof wore on a good day, that would be an achievement in itself.

“I-uh, er. I-”

“Out with it, boy.”

“I can’t get the tripod to deploy, sir.”

As if he had no idea that was the issue, Svaraghaun chuckled and gave a wide nod. Clacking his head up and down with dramatic flair.

“Aye, that does seem to be the issue.”

The Tof brought his frame down, crouching next to the sailor. Overlooking the F-Web, running fingers through his beard. Faux confusion.

“You try pulling on it?”

“Yessir.”

“Hmmm, you unlocked the tripod?”

“Yessir.”

“I think I know the problem.”

With that, he stood again, removing his hand from the shoulder of the crewman as he gripped the F-Web near the base, where the tripod links into the blaster cannon itself properly. He lifted it, incredible ease, and gave the entire platform a shake. As if he was unfolding a lawn chair, and the legs of the tripod snapped out and locked instantly with a satisfying snap-click. He placed the weapon back down, adjusting it slightly to properly align in the gunport before flashing a smile at the seaman.

“These F-Webs are finicky, try shaking them open like that. Don’t teach you that at the academy I know, but it’s reliable.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll be-”

And with that, warning klaxons began to blare throughout the ship. Svaraghaun didn’t have to ask what it meant. The crow was shouting out what the warning was for rather bluntly.

“Sith starfighters, bomber support. All hands, report to your gunnery positions.”

There was a whine as the main guns of the cruiser began to heatup again, the powercells starting to churn and roll through the mighty blaster. Each of the crewmen at the F-Web emplacements, two front, three port and starboard, took the grips of the weapons in their hands. He was certain that this action was being repeated throughout the flotilla. He could even hear the water parting as Imperial Submarines emerged from the murky depths.

It was a much more humble gathering than the reaction would suggest. About five Caedus-class superiority fighters, each with some mentionable amount of damage, the lead even bleeding flames out of one of the wings. With three Caldoth-class Bombers, in much better state than the rest of the the fighters themselves.

Svaraghaun brought his coms live again, transmitting an open signal. He was unsure if the distance, or whatever jamming devices on the world, would interfere. But he had his orders, he had his morales.

“Attention, Sith fighters. You are in the killzone. I am giving you this one chance to land on the shore and usher yourselves into our custody. You have ten seconds.”

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.

“Calculations on their flight trajectory?” He asked into friendly coms.

Five. Four.

“Eighty-nine percent accuracy ratio predicted, Grand Admiral.” Came a response.

Three. Two.

“All NIMD vessels open fire.”

The first round from the flotilla came from the Grand Admiral’s heavy cruiser, the twin laser cannons slammed their barrels backwards as the bright blue flash of gas exploded outwards. Rocking the vessel backwards, dipping it’s rear slightly deeper into the water and sending ripples out through the water. A second later, the front facing F-Webs burst to life with the same sprite-like blue bolts. Another second, the rest of the cruisers joined in the symphony. Heavy beats of six laser cannons all crying to the sky, scratching at the surface of the heavens. The harsh hissing and calls of the submarines and missile destroyers launching their payloads.

And all Svaraghaun had to do was watch.

The first bolt traveled high, trailed by it’s kin and the rapid fire F-Web shot. There was return fire being given, bolts of red slammed into the sea around the flotilla as the Aft Dual Heavy Laser Turret on the bottom of the lead fighter began to return shots. It’s response was too sluggish however, and it’s shieldings already damaged from whatever previous fight that it had managed itself in before. The bolt slammed home on the backend of the fighter as the rest of the squadron began to peel off. It punched through, vanished into the armor, before an instant after the entire back end of the fighter burst into a magnificent display of flame and plasma. Sending the front end rolling through the air and rapidly descending to the surface of the sea.

The pack dispersed like a disturbed murder of crows. The former leads remnants were picked apart by two more explosions of missiles launched from the subs. The F-Web scattering of blaster bolts followed and broke apart as they trailed the bombers and fighters. Plinking against their shields and armor. Earning responses in vibrant blues, reds, and purples depending on how well the shields of the vessels were holding up. Another salvo rocked the heavy cruiser as Ascension filled the air with shot and explosion. One of the fighters began an aileron roll in an attempt to shake off the tracking bolts and the closing missiles. For it’s lucky, it did manage to throw off a fair few of the trailing rounds and caused one of the missiles to overshook it’s form. But the moment it recentered itself, the pitter patter of F-Web rounds began to wear on it’s shielding. Another heavy bolt, slamming center mass, the shields dropped and the armor began to peel and welt at the beating. Causing bursts of flames and sparks to shudder through the fighter.

Svaraghaun could nearly picture the pilot slamming on the controls as the power began to falter and fail. The ship began to descend, it’s aft cannon still reigning out hate as it screamed to the ground. It slammed and vanished beneath the waves, plummeting for a fair bit before the water bubbled, parted with a burst of yellow and cracked plates.

He didn’t even get the pleasure to watch one of the bombers take the full brunt of one of the sub’s salvos, only the crumpled form rolling in a ball of flame.

Two fighters down, one bomber. Three fighters left, two bombers.

They reorganized, as if realizing they wouldn’t get far with the Maritime Division hunting them, one of the less damaged fighters took lead, with the other two flanking at either side, bombers in rear. Forming a chevron position as they arched past the sun and turned directly to the flotilla. Full fire from their blaster cannons reigning down against the Ascension ships and their crew. Plooms of red slamming and evaporating into the sea, scraping off of shields and reflecting into the coastline. Svaraghaun watched as a heavy burst of fire echoed across his cruiser. The bolts stormed across his sight and came barreling to him. He nearly flinched as they filled his entire vision, only to slam into the invisible barrier and dissipate their energy across the bubble feet away from anything mentionable.

Bolts were given in return, a collection grabbing the fighter on the far right and dragging it into the depths aflame. Though between the dancing fighters and the heavily armored bombers, they made their way closer and closer to the flotilla. The distance ships infront of Svaraghaun’s cruiser began to take more and more concentrated bursts of fire, until, with the screams of their crew shouting for support over comms, he watched as the advanced scouts began to burst. One after another, doubled in ferocity as the bombers began their run. Dropping their payloads into the sea, watching as they burped hate and sea over the vessels, tipping them and cracking the hulls, sometimes fullsail exploding the entire vessel. They were closer now though, and that worked against them.

A handful of missiles crashed into the rear bombers, losing them in an explosion of ash and smoke, the shrapnel of their destruction scattering and flicking against the fighters as the bombers failed to come out of the otherside of the cloud. F-Webs, laser cannons, hellfire upon their charge. The other fighter went into a ball of flame.

The last one seemed much more desperate, faster and faster the frame of the ship came. He could make out individual details now. Faster and faster. The bolts were bounding constantly off of the surface of the heavy cruiser. Daring to shatter the shield.

Crewmen that weren’t on gun emplacements now were slinging small arms fire with their SG-4 blaster rifles. Many of them simply bounding off of the armor of the fighter.

Closer and closer, shots going wide, missiles too dangerous at such a distance. The fighter too low and too quick to the laser cannons to get a good beat against it.

Svaraghaun pulled his DT-57 from his hip, raised it, and fired off a round.

And another, and another.

The fighter let loose a final burst of bolts, breaking through the shield and slamming into the deck of the cruiser. Bursting metal and sending up puffs of novas. Taking out the entire right side of F-Web emplacements before it passed over. Starting to climb, and climb, and climb.

The dual-cannons rotated, hesitated, and sent one more pair of bolts at the fighter.

They trailed, closer and closer, edging upon the fighter before slamming into the rear armor, smacking the fighter out of the air and sending it skittering onto the shoreline.

They leveled it’s landing area with a healthy amount of blasterfire afterwards.

~~~

The flotilla regrouped, falling into staggered lines, with Svaraghaun at the head.

Past the brief encounter, airspace over the seas were relatively clear. They were some travel time outside of Libra Gold in terms of operational effectiveness, but as it stood, clear skies.

Thus, the Grand Admiral sent an open comms message to the command elements of the NIO.

“Maritime Division, mopping up what comes our way. If any support is needed, feed us coordinates and we can level the position. Military targets only, please. Couple minutes out from the AO.”

Spoiler: Flotilla Composition

--Flotilla Composition--

1x Heavy Cruiser
4x Cruisers
5x Submarines
5x Scouts
7x Missile Destroyers

 

[AMCO]

Location: Caverns beneath the Sith Enclave proper.
Objective: Improvised Field Trial Besh-1; harry New Imperial forces. Survive.
Equipment: Polyweave Suit, G1 UltraDeluxe, Shield Talisman, Soulstones, Empyrean Gland, [2] Jin'Pins
Writing With: Runi Verin & Amea Virou

To the outside observer, especially in a stressful mess of situation such as this, his recovery might have seemed near-instant - and therein lay the point.

Alchemically-altered flesh aching to the point where even turning off his pain receptors didn't quite cut it as the important bits on the inside were slowly reconstructed, Adrian pushed his way to his feet unsteadily, staggering backwards all the way. Good thing the Shrouds were keeping them busy.

"Plenty... plenty more up my sleeve." His voice came out distorted, somehow, almost as if the throat just wasn't... shaped right. Eyes swivelling to Amea, he smiled grimly. "Better a coward than a fool... only a fool would assume that demons simply up and vanish with the Sorcerer who made them."

Too dizzy to gather the willpower for another attack just yet, he simply held back as the quartet of spirits fell upon the pair.

Hopefully, they wouldn't have any ion weapons - those tended to make short work of the creatures.

 

[Ty Sibo]

Ty sibo:harm armor, under armor bodysuit, Anti material rifle, Protosaber
biodroids: harm armor, GMG's, M-416's
objective: move to a new location and continue harrasing enemy
secondary objective: kill as many commandos as possible Hayek

The explosion rocked the building causing a break in the GMGs after they each got threw another 50 rounds of ammo each. "seems they are trying to bring the building down....they'll need a lot more than that." One of the biodroids casually said as Ty looked in his general direction. "pack up and move to a new building I'll go deal with the commandos while you guys get set up in your new location. The biodroids saluted their leader as he made his way down to the enemy location.

Ty moved to the ground floor before letting off an anti-material rifle round to slam threw The cover of one of the Comandos intent of killing the stupid sob before lighting his red protosaber and sending out a mass telepathic link to the commandos in the area he could sense in the area hell he could see their aura so hiding wasn't exactly an option for the sorry sods. walking threw the smoke his skeletal head with wisps of blueish energy flowed around his eye sockets before he spoke. "that's a handy door knocker you guys did now what do you do when death finally answers? don't worry children I won't keep you from your maker death always collects..." and with that Ty began moving using the abilitys the force granted him to move fast and strike faster on his enemies.

meanwhile The squad used this helpful distraction to move the gmgs one at a time to a smaller but naboring building while the other biodroid kept up over watch ready to pump 30 rounds of ammo into the sorry sob that would think of jumping them with thermal vision active he would spot one comando running down the alleyway before he began opening up on him. "forget the other GMG get that one and the coms equipment inside now!"

 

[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

WHILE THE WHOLE WORLD DIES
​

He who controls the battlefield controls history.

These shattered pathways of broken dreams and forlorn memories faded into nothing at all at the streaming passes of crimson, amber and emerald blaster bolts passing across the way of the street in the exchange of death and destruction. What might've struck Irveric the most was the overtness in which the Sith allies marched in their ranks.

The Confederacy.

The ever stalwart protectors of freedom and the proclaimed 'spritual successor' to the Galactic Alliance now...here. Amidst the salt and smoke of a bloodbath to make certain that more worlds like Dantooine would be subjected to a regime that regarded its people the same as it did its legionnaires within this context. Combatants, all tools for the state.

Bricks in the wall.

Only had to shove them aside to pull the veil that revealed their true and despicable masters in the cloaked darkness that sent them to embark on their death march.

<"Sir! We'll hold the advance here! We need overlord over Garang."> The Zabrak Captain Krodare Rexargo shouted out in Irveric's direction. One of the 501st draped in their cobalt striping over white duraplast sheened in urban dust to form a dirtied grey, the touch of war made manifest permeating through all of these broken grounds.

Even following Jaeger Harrsk 's beckon of urgency, to bring the fire Irveric had to light the pyre.

Irveric turned, slinging his rifle over his chest as he pulled back from the tip of his advance and back down the alley way. In a frontline position, once more isolated from the surrounding crack and fire of the pressing war, more of the Imperator's own began to march past him with urgency in their step as they began to move unto point Aurek.

With none of the other Axis callsigns present, Irveric needed to take the reigns of command again. Another one of his subordinates attached to his command squad, Major Savik Krennel guided the Imperator to a stretch of open ground behind the lines enough to breath a moment's respite but still far too close for comfort.

Dropping a holomap projector unto the ground, soon enough Irveric's vision was alight with the state of the battlefield around him in Garang.

<"The 'Spearhead' is making gains but our units dropped into the city are S-O-L until we can regroup. Air is contested, little to no chance we're able to scramble a strike if need be...that...and our fleet needs everything it can get in orbit."> That last remark, drew the arch of a brow from Irveric before he wrenched the helmet from his head, taking this respite to spark a cigar and set it between his lips in a hungry draw of the sweetened herb.

"Our boats outnumbered?" Irveric inquired. The New Imperial Order had laid dormant in months to rebuild the assets sacrificed to grasp the Braxant Run within its iron fist all the while the Silver Jedi and the Bryn'adul feasted on the Sith Eternal. Now the balance of power in orbit, the means by which the New Imperial Order would live and die on this assault was in peril at least far as it favoring the New Imperials had gone.

Krennel nodded, letting a solemn silence fill the air for a moment, Tavlar nodded in reply, accepting the circumstances before moving on with his strategic evaluation. There wasn't anything he could directly do to manipulate the situation in his favor. All the same, he well and truly trusted the Grand Admiral's judgement in the engagement. Air support in force or at the very least, enough to wrench Sith dominance over Garang's airspace was seemingly out of the picture. Voi'kryt's spearhead was moving steadily but had the main stretch of the planet's capital between them and Tavlar's Axis.

He needed that timeline cut down, cut far far down.

Taking one last deep draw from his cigar, he eventually flicked it into the broken ground below.

"The Sith Eternal is a hydra, Major."

<"Sir?">

"We need to start lopping heads..." He iterates, twisting the helmet in his hands to peer into his own metallic visage, chunks of gore, bone and flesh dotting the grey and cobalt surface marred by the burning ash.

He speaks once more as he moves to slide it over his head once more.

<"They'll put every living soul between us and them. Every man, woman and child. No price is too great to avoid the retribution for their crimes. They know what they've done and they'll go down kicking and screaming to avoid their just fate. But justice knows every man's number, Major."> Irveric states. No strategic cost would be too great for the Sith when it came to burning through the ranks of the New Imperial Order's fighting men and women. Were it not for the collective eyes set on Garang from across the Galaxy, painting over the canvas of suffering and tyranny with dogged desperation.

Accompanying the Red Riders, which were a fast moving unit in their own right was the Myrmidons, the sons of Nirauan at the command of Lucien Dooku . His commo pinged the Warlord of Nirauan.

<"Dooku. Take your Myrmidons and find Darth Prazutis , disrupt the chain of command. Soon as the Sith leadership falters, the foundation they stand on will collapse beneath them."> He utters the first line of the command, understanding the weight that accompanies it.

<"Axis won't be far behind."> He iterates.

But before he addressed his callsigns directly, another line had to be hit. Apollo, Hunter Blackburn . The encryption took a moment for Tavlar's commo to patch him through but within the moment, he speaking to Blackburn directly.

<"Apollo. If you haven't already, your cell has the all clear. Disrupt all Sith military activity but our priority target is target designation 'Libra Gold'...do what must be done."> Irveric commands.

Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt , the 307th and their armored spearhead were well on the move, but the pace needed to be double timed.

<"Vindicate-Actual...Lyra. I need your formation to envelop target designation 'Libra Gold' as its top priority, they've dredged civilians to fight us...continue the push toward the center, leave no quarter to these cowards."> He said in reference to the Sith proper.

Axis.

<"All Axis callsigns, it's time to go. All form up on Aurek. We're hitting the garrison now. "> Tavlar orders, urgency packed into his voice.

<"Patriarch has issued a retreat to his unit, sir."> Savik iterates.

<"A section of Mando'ade should be enough to relieve him."> The Sons of Mandalore were able to move faster and hit harder than most any unit within the New Imperial Armed Forces, that much was undeniable.

<"Copy.">

One final line of communication opened.

Ravraa Vyshraal

<"Moff Vyshraal...I know you're here..."> He says, though not in a tone foreboding but in a voice as stoic as he ever had been toward the Togruta.

<"Take charge of the evacuation efforts, move every civilian out of Garang and past the cover of our advance. Get them whatever they need...but I will not fight the Sith on their terms. Offer reprieve to those caught in the middle...so I can leave no quarter for the wretched fiends that left them here."> It was time for the gloves to come off.

With the aces in their place, Tavlar assembled his unit, moving back down the alley way to his originally compromised position at Point Aurek.

And there it was, the ingloriously meager garrison of Libra Gold, now the Sovereign Imperator's sole aim.

<"We good to go?"> He asked in regards to the unit of 501st Stormtroopers around him, his own.

<"To the end, sir.">

<"To the end. On me."> A surge of suppressing fire from the 501st toward the outside of Libra Gold's fortifications, accompanied by heavy infantry weapons and high explosive anti tank rockets allowed enough reprieve for Tavlar's unit to thread the needle and advance.

But that time of reprieve was cut short, immediately

<"That's him! That's Tavlar! He's gotta go!"> The tank commander nestled within the seat of the repulsor tank sounded out, peering through the sights of the repulsor tank's main weapon.

<"Set down. Pull him in."> He says, dragging the scope of the sights toward the Imperator on his charge. The deflector shield of the tank began to shimmer with the concentrated fire of the 501st infantry unit held back to cover the advance, the super charged round from a TL-60x Heavy Repeater being the coup de grace that withered the right most tank down to the durasteel hull beneath.

<"Fi-"> The command was snuffed out as the shaped charge of a New Imperial missile launcher slammed into the front viewport of the repulsor lift, the high explosive anti tank charge shattering the glasteel and sending an explosive blast of shrapnel through the crew cabin.

An errant burst from the heavy laser cannons of the other sent the 501st trooper responsible for the hit into pink mist, the other tank opting to prioritize the New Imp targets based on their power projection, how much they hurt them in the stead of moving to sever the head from the snake.

The other tank slowly hovered its way toward the fortified corridor that the 501st held down to secure the advance unto Libra Gold.

With the next man up, another of the Imperator's own took ahold of the weapon.

<"Backblast! Clear!"> One of his comrades shouted as he propped himself unto a kneel, aimed down the sights and fired into the second tank.

Fire, shattered metal and black smoke emerged in its wake, that spare moment needed to advance up the walls.

As soon as he scaled the fortification, there were two less stormtroopers with him than he began with but now he was on the ramparts and a stretch closer to the heart of the beast. Scrambling for any form of cover, Dauntless Commandos were on them immediately, at least two sections here.

An unfamiliar foe, having stared down the barrel of Sith in some form or another uninterrupted for almost four years, seeing soldiers of the Confederacy was an unwelcome change of pace.

But in the end, a new challenge.

<"Form up, as soon as the rest of Axis clocks in, we're back on the move. Until then, we hold our ground."> Tavlar commanded.

All he needed now was the rest of Axis to follow in line.

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | SOM | Jaeger Harrsk | Tyrell Paxxus | Djorn Bline | Tulan Kor | Rika Hiro | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Tavius Muuaji | Daros Karmann | Sturit Goan | Rynn Vizsla | Ravraa Vyshraal
ENEMIES | TSE | ELDER COMPACT | Darth Prazutis | Ulrich | Luna Terrik | Gerwald Lechner | Redd | Frank Sterling | Gnox the Insatiable

 

[Kormov Alten]

Allies
Okkeus Dainlei | Josiah Navollious | Var Koon | Robogeber | Naier Rambeigh

Hostile Combatants
| Sith Vessels |

Captain Kormov had just finished listening intently to Grand Admiral Rausgeber's briefing. So, Kormov mused quietly, we're going straight through that massive fleet and out the other side. Looking around at his crew, he knew they were just as skeptical if he was. They all knew even before they jumped to Dantooine that the Imperial fleet would be outnumbered. Just not this badly.

That plan was fine for the Admiral and his Capital ships, but Kormov and his four ships would be right next to Naier Rambeigh 's Autumn Division at the tip of the spear, assigned with smashing through the enemy fleet and screening the bomber's en route to their targets.

"Fall in on Naier Rambeigh 's Verenga formation, extending the right flank. Bring the Iberta up in the center, while the Ransom attaches to Rambeigh's leftmost Caçadore, and the Fiori brings up the end of the formation. Starglow will trail behind the Verenga, covering it's exposed engines. Should any vessel encounter heavy resistance, Starglow will move to support. You have your orders Commanders. Lightspeed, and I'll see you on the other side."

Kormov stared blankly into space for a moment, Salvador, Rickard, and Richter's faces echoing in his mind. Lets hope I bring them all home.

Willing his mind back to the present, Kormov turned to face the bridge. Six pairs of eyes, including those of his second, Lt Commander Wessley, looked expectedly back at him.

"We've fought long and hard to get to Dantooine, and faced these odds before. Have faith in the Admiral, and Naier. Tomorrow, we'll be blasting that Sith Temple from Orbit! Wessley, I want you on engine checks. Alexia, communicate with the rest of the ship to ensure we have oxygen masks and mag boots available. James, have your gun crews make final adjustments. Any questions? "

Wessley, ever the witty one, raised his hand. Hopefully it was something useful.

"Yeah, when do I get a nice white cape like Grand Admiral Rausgeber's?"

Half the room burst out laughing, the other officers mortified. I have been to lenient on them. Kormov screwed his face into a grimace with much effort. Any other commander might've demoted them on sight, or worse, given them to the Grand Admiral for judgement.

"Not a word of this leaves this room. Wessley, kiss your payed time off goodbye. Expect to be working the entire holiday."

Kormov stared into each of the deck officers eyes until they nodded in agreement, lingering on Wessley's. And he should be so lucky.

The Starglow's engines hummed, vibrating on the deck beneath his feet, as the Echo Division moved into position with Naier Rambeigh 's Autumn Division.

---

---

Fleet Roster Composition​

---

---

Echo Division - 3rd Fleet

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

---

---

 

[Gedeon Rath]

Operation Harvest Dark
Codename: Hannibal
Objective: Identify Hostiles. Engage with extreme prejudice.
Allies: Rexus Wenck | Dergan Twigg (x)
Gedeon's Gear: Evasive-226-R Field Disruptor | E-11D Blaster Carbine | Thermal Detonators (x2) | Damascus Patterned Combat Dagger (Phrik/Durasteel)
-
LEGION

"West it is." Hannibal muttered, motioning for his men to follow as he quick checked the bearing. "Better the fracas we know than the one we don't." agreed the veteran commando. These two didn't have mush for brains, that was certain. Quickly they advanced through the rubble and wreckage of the day's endeavors, broken bodies littered like trash after a life day festival. Worthless. The soldiers dead were nothing now, chaff and dust. In Gedeon's subconcious he could practically feel the walls closing in on them as their rag tag formation spread thin, funneled down the alley. Before he could speak up, they were in the mix.

"Take cover! Gas!"

"F..." his exclamation was cut short as two canisters flew overhead, already expelling whatever toxins they contained into the air around them. :: Contact right. Gas Canisters. :: he spoke into his team's comms. Ducking behind a large piece of exposed rubble Gedeon attempted to find the source of the canisters, blaster fire already erupting to his front. The gas was merely a distraction. Before they could fully assess the field of battle, Romulus began pushing forward again. The flank. :: Besh squad, eyes flank. :: he commanded his own. He'd be damned if they were going to get flanked by ailing elders and boys with nary a hair on their chest. Or elsewhere. With a grimace hidden behind the faceplate of his reflec coated helmet, he pushed forward driven by legs like pistons. As they pressed their advance the blaster fire seemed distant, almost another block or two away even - that's when they hit the barricade. Stopping short, Hannibal sought council with the two Death Troopers in some light cover.

"A conundrum indeed." Hannibal mused. "Pesky things, rules of engagement." Leaning down he picked up a piece of malformed rubble, a nasty chunk of durasteel rebar protruding from one side. With nary a wink between them, Gedeon leapt from cover and raised his voice audibly through the vocoder in his helmet. "Grenade!" With a grunt and a violent contraction of his abdomen, the grenade shaped hunk of duracrete and steel hurled towards the barricade. If manned, perhaps that would be provocation enough to elicit a wave of blaster fire. Why breach the rules of engagement when you could manipulate them in your favor?

 

[Darth Daiara]

Spoiler: The Story

Aradia was ready this time. The temple vibrated underfoot as the turmoil spilled out across the courtyard. Weapons fired. Men screamed. She stood unmoving in the eve of a narrow entrance, watching as blood spilt indiscriminately across the grounds. Whispers of lost souls brushed up against her mind, a chill creeping over her skin as she felt them dissipate into the Netherworld. Their life force lingered on the tip of her tongue and yanked at her attention.

She jolted a step back, her chest heaving as she tried to temper herself against the lure. It would not control her. She would control it. She took in a shaky breath, holding tight to the apprehension in her gut as she tried to find her center.

Remember that fear, Aradia, it will keep you alive.

"Master," she breathed out, a final thought spared for the woman. She braced herself and tentatively sunk in.

Her eyes flickered closed, the darkside rushing through her in a fiery embrace. The whispers grew sharper. Strength flooded her limbs, her body jittering against the rush that left her electrified.

Her borrowed saber snapped into her palm, the naive girl that had tried and failed to defend Bastion Academy was gone. Dead. Her eyes opened, the blue hue twisted and swirling.

Snap hiss.

The blade jumped to life, sparks flying as it crossed paths with the intruder that pushed for entry. This time, she would hold her ground.

Loske Treicolt Maynard Treicolt Enyo Typhos

T H E _ W O L F
THE NEW JEDI ORDER
JEDI-IMPERIAL STRIKE TEAM
Jumpsuit | Concord Brawn | Lightsaber

THERE IS NO PAIN
​

The searing shock, the bruised and battered flesh. Nothing was ever a more culmination of this horrid bout of pathetic suffering than this. Forced to the shattered, broken stone ground of Tol-Kachorn, left to the fate of the New Imperial General who was instilled with the rage of the absurdity of this conflict, the fabricated yet mutual betrayal that the Alliance and Imperial state had inflicted on the other.

It wasn't a war Maynard held any comfort in marching dutifully in the fray toward either. On Harnaidan, he fought and bled alongside them, knew their names, their stories, their suffering. They were never all too different from him. Wayward sons and daughters looking for purpose, looking to do what's right by their people. Hardly ever refering to the Starbird or the Iron Sun but to their families, friends, the soldier to the right and left of them. Any Alliance marine regaled the same. The only thing that was different was the names, the home worlds, the places they've been. But beneath that white, patterned duraplast they were all but a shade or so apart. When they'd operated together, the chemistry was seamless. Wolf pack and 501st, Storm Commandos and ARC Troopers. They all their duty, their mutual, driven goal in mind to snuff out the darkness forever and make sure no one else ever had to suffer.

To turn those blasters on the other...it felt wrong, disjointed. For Maynard cut and gun down the very men and women who looked to him with respect, looked to his kin with admiration. It wrought a pit in his stomach, a pit which culminated into a dark chasm when he returned to Bastion, to see the Imperial state for himself. It was anything other than what this Sith propaganda had painted it out to be. Certainly, there was the feeling of order, of being watched. But people walked, laughed, joked, traded cigara. They were just...people. The same as those on Coruscant, Concord Dawn...or Dantooine.

Lyra couldn't have regarded him as anything less than filth when she'd taken him prisoner, perhaps only sparing his life, sparing him the retribution of daring to bring harm to her troopers perhaps only because of his familial ties to Waylon, a man who'd acted advisory to Lyra more times than once. Or the comradery she had with his better half in Loske. But none of it was his own hand, his own will. All the makings of someone who cared far more about him than he seemed to about his men. The last thing he saw was the t-visor of a wolf pack trooper immediately across from him, slumped dead, then the searing pain of the stun as Lyra's words muddied into nothingness and his consciousness faded.

The next, all he could feel was Loske's embrace, perhaps the only reassurance that he was still alive. Whatever happened between, within the custody of Voi'kryt...nothingness. All that remained, the split chin and bruised, beaten flesh.

Afterwards, there was little respite. No voyage back to the Core to lick his wounds, no quarter drawn for him.

Dantooine.

This reignition of the pulsing light that emitted and united the three. Maynard, Ryv and Loske should've been a more joyous occasion, Ryv's return to the field. As the Sword of the Jedi, a leader. Maynard should have been right beside him, as they always were for the other. Where ever it was Ryv pulling Maynard from the worn brush of Concord Dawn or Maynard cradling Ryv's dying body on Borosk. It was the ever constant and now, a union disjointed, broken.

But today, hope burned bright, Ryv took the reins of leadership and command. Maynard would follow.

His cobalt blade fired to life once more, the Jedi's weapon ready to make and bring death unto these Sith. The real enemy, the truest foe he'd ever faced. There was no contrived narrative, no devilish pact that could reverse that simple fact. The Sith were the enemy, they were the nigh truest embodiment of darkness and evil.

Through the murky grey and foggy shadow that loomed over him, Maynard would wield the light resurgent.

Steadfast at Loske's side he took up position so that she might retain her focus on the bubble fixated around her.

And through the intangible meld the three had molded through the fires, these trials of the flesh and courage. He spoke.

Together...to the end.
​

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | Ryv | Loske Treicolt | Enlil | Cotan Sar'andor | Jin Kyrel | Shaka Sunstar | Zaavik Dagoth | Hans Rennagen
ENEMIES | TSE | ELDER COMPACT | Darth Daiara | Enyo Typhos | Arctus Silmar | Other Space Kaiden

Equipment: Armour, Shotgun, Gas Grenades filled with Berserk, Sidearm 1, Sidearm 2, Sabre, Ion Paddle Beamer, Cryo-Ban Gun.
Writing With: Loske Treicolt , Maynard Treicolt , Darth Daiara . Targeting Loske in this post.

"No quarter, remember Kyber Dark!"
"Bring that shield down!"
"Death to the traitors! The Empire protects!"

A cacophony of shouts and commands filled the air, amidst the thunder of explosions and the whine of high-intensity blaster fire peppering defenders and invaders alike. Lightsabres sprang to life with snap-hisses. The gate to the temple shook under the pressure. Enyo remained silent as she made her way towards the enclave's entrance. The enemy was at the gates, indeed. The Terminatrix felt something close to exhilaration as she watched the flames of battle spread. Combat made her feel alive.

Weapons erupted, organic beings screamed and died. Their blood would soak the fields of Dantooine. Or they would make it out alive, and perhaps receive a medal for their troubles. Only to then be thrown into the next war zone. For 'freedom', imperialism, Jedism, 'Sith Eternalism', money, simple survival or whatever. Enyo had no qualms about profiting from their delusions. She was under no illusion of being any better.

When all was said and done, she was a war dog. She earned her credits off the backs of millions of deaths - innocent and wicked alike. The more bloodshed, the more oppression, the more tyranny - the better. But at least she could look herself in the mirror and admit it instead of going through a convoluted process of ideological rationalisation - of self-deceit - in order to justify her deeds to herself and vilify her foes. In the end, everything died. Even so-called 'gods' fell.

Speaking of the aforementioned barrier, the Force directed her to it. A shimmering force field had shielded the first ranks of the Jedi, absorbing a myriad of shots that were being directed their way. Of course, no shield was all-encompassing or impenetrable, but it was potent. The Force pulled her towards the focal point.

Heading up to the wall, she was shrouded by her armour's Taozin amulet, and said suit's manifold stealth systems. As weapons' fire hammered the Force barrier, she picked up a discarded sniper rifle. The Verpine shatter rifle had apparently once belonged to a Sith trooper who no longer needed it due to having come down with a chronical case of death. C'est la guerre.

Taking cover, she crouched to provide a smaller target. Looking through the rifle's electronic sights, she spied one of the two Jedi she had identified as the point people of the defensive barrier. The organic was female. Enyo aimed for centre of mass. Two projectiles, silenced and accelerated at very high velocity, left the rifle. The Verpine magnetic coils allowed the rifle to deliver a ton of kinetic energy. Nonetheless, Enyo had no expectation that it would kill the Jedi. One could consider it a test, so to speak. Once she had fired her shots, she would discard the rifle and get back down.

THE NEW JEDI ORDER
JEDI-IMPERIAL JOINT STRIKE TEAM
MOTHER'S DAUGHTER

​

Shot after superheated shot struck harmlessly against the barrier she and Ryv had erected, dissipating against the milky pastels in an eruption of technicolour. When the deemed King initiated his attack, she flinched involuntarily at the shrillness of the sound that managed to triumph above the din of the battle.

An inferno in the shape of a girthy serpent launched overhead, incinerating any unfortunate enough to find themselves in its path. Flames exploded against the stone, consuming organic shapes in its wake and melting them beyond recognition. Between the brilliance of the attack and Maynard’s voice sounding out in her and Ryv’s head, she closed her eyes.



She was still incomprehensibly vexed over the instance at Yinchorr where he’d been simultaneously taken, and her consciousness had been hijacked by a Force ghost. He hadn’t said anything about it, but that togetherness hadn’t been actualized yet again. She hadn’t been able to find him in his captivity and part of her overthinking nature wondered if he blamed her for any of that. Or if he just accepted things as they were. The latter was more likely, given his readiness to remain at her side, but considering the former caused her to falter. That could have been falling back to responsibility and foundational care, an agnostic reaction that required no necessity in overcoming any discomfort between them. Nevertheless, she pushed a feeling of tender affirmation out between their shared link. It was always together, but..

>No end today.< She reminded them both, a bet they put the big blind in for every time they hit the field –– her telepathic sentiment cut short by a surprisingly accurate shot that threatened to penetrate her shield with the split focus.

The first metal alloy projectile shook her control, the second felt like an anvil to the chest.

Loske was blown backward, pummelled into the ground by the kinetic concentration. Her suit managed to absorb the lion’s share of the attack, but the space between her ribs still ached from the collision and she reached up to touch it in daft confirmation. No blood, just charred fabric and a bruise already forming beneath the top-level burn. Opaque circles blossomed in her vision and she forced a cough out, making sure her respiratory system still operated. The wind was knocked entirely out. Smoke rose from the hole in her suit while the nanotechnology worked to repair and seal itself, concealing the scorched flesh beneath.

Hhhnnggkk, she groaned, blinking at the ground to force her vision back to normal and breathe naturally once more. It didn’t take long to scramble back to her feet, hand now hovering above her hilt and drawing in hoarse, rasped breaths and gesturing that she was fine, just winded. It was mostly patting at the invisible space in front of her to resolve any spike of alarm from her companion.

For an instant, a look of uncertainty crossed over her and she flashed an unsettled glance in Maynard’s direction. The precariousness’ origin was in herself, there was something complicated happening underneath it all. Beneath the surface, she could feel an intensity burgeoning that tingled at her fingertips.

Clenching and unclenching her fists to dissuade anything unnatural, her blade snapped to life, almost in synch with the request for aid.



Enlil was quick to oblige, reconstructing a glossy bubble around those that Loske and Maynard were charged with leading forward. With a single, final nod of affirmation, she inhaled sharply and lunged forward, tilting and breaking into a jog –– swiftly picking up momentum with each step.

Running behind the cover of the shield, Loske seized the opportunity to assess the enemy at the gate and beyond to try pinpointing who’d shot her. The skyline was dimmed by the smoke’s haze, obscuring the visibility of anyone ( Enyo Typhos ) seeking to put effort into concealing themselves. She might have been taking it too personally –– those two shots could have been fortunate.

There was something humorous about Jedi charging on-foot and hurtling speeders at their enemies rather than hijacking them for themselves, but something to laugh about later.

Hitting the temple gates was like a powerful wave on the shore break. The charred stones gave way under her footfalls, stumbling, Loske managed to turn it into a dodge –– undercutting an outstretched blade that had probably been meant for her neck. Riposting, she swung at the attacker’s hip, shoving her foot into the junction at the top of their foot and shin. Her left hand came around with another tell-tale telekinetic blast, rolling the now wounded legionnaire backward and into the gathering of Sith so keen on defending the entrance.

Thudding to a stop, the red-armoured Sith devotee landed at the feet of Darth Daiara , clutching the puncture in their armour and moaning. Loske hadn't watched where they'd landed –– her focus was intently on the yawning mouth of the Enclave itself and penetrating its defences before ushering the other Jedi in.

THE NEW JEDI ORDER​

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

Playing paddy cake with: Loske Treicolt Maynard Treicolt Enyo Typhos


--Ripples of impact echoed across a shield over the enclave's door, bodies of Jedi and Sith alike colliding into the sudden defense Aradia put up over the threshold.

She stood in the center of it, stepping over the prone form Loske Treicolt had sent flying at her feet. The gates crumbled to dust across the yard, the fight slowly coiling inward as Jedi pushed and Sith retreated to meet them in turn. Aradia ignored the flow of battle, the shield indiscriminately blocking entry for all. It was a fools task, there were other doors. The acolyte stood her ground regardless, hands outstretched at her side as she strived to hold it firm.

"You are not welcome here!" Came the childish exclamation, as if such reason and logic would stop the whole invasion in its tracks. And why wouldn't it? Didn't the galaxy operate on a set of rules? She said no! If only that had worked for her on Bastion. Maybe then all her peers wouldn't be dead.

Her grief contorted into a growl of fury, the shield rippling with a wave of reinforced energy. Dark strains swirled through the once clear blockade. Her attempt to disband the attackers resulted in nothing more than a slow down. The Acolyte raised her chin to Loske Treicolt as the Knight was left to realize just what stood in her company's way.

Or rather, who.

A man fought besides the blonde, Maynard Treicolt defending the woman from the Sith that found themselves beyond the barrier as well. For all of Aradia's grand intention, it barely changed the scene. They were relentless. Desperation undid her, her nostrils flaring at the strain.

She screamed, a telekinetic blast buffering outwards as her shield shattered.

She flew forward with it, a lithe jump sending her headlong into the fray. As the pulse washed towards Loske Treicolt , Aradia brought her saber arching down for the woman's head.