Junction No Sanctuary Here || SO/GA Junction of Sisio and Orellon II

[Domina Prime]

◈ PRIME PAGECLAIM ◈

You Can See A God When I Take My Mask Off


Nouqai Veil | Darth Carnifex | Jonyna Si | Aris Noble

Open​

LOCATION: Eiattu 6
OBJECTIVE: OBJ2


The skies over Eiattu 6 had become a deadly tapestry of crimson chaos and azure flame. Smoke trails and explosions painted the horizon as Domina Prime wreaked havoc, her laughter echoing like thunder through the cataclysmic air. Her Dovahdrake, Azura, twisted and snapped through the tangle of airspace, tearing through the wings of Alliance gunships and roasting their innards with scorching blue fire. Each destroyed vessel became a plummeting fireball, its impact below furthering the destruction Domina adored.

"Trash! Junk! AND FUCKING SCRAP!" she bellowed, her cackling filling the comms of nearby pilots like a maddening war chant. Her gleaming Mythosaur axe swung in wild arcs, severing hulls and igniting internal explosions with each strike. Azura mirrored her ferocity, crystalline fangs clamping onto engines and wings, leaving a trail of mangled wreckage in their wake. The dragon's mighty tail lashed out, cleaving smaller fighters mid-air and sending the wreckage spiraling to the ground below.

Despite the thrill of battle, a sharp screech from above drew her attention. Fal, her companion and an equally skilled rider, dove into formation beside her atop her own Warbeast. The woman's presence momentarily pulled Domina from her revelry.

"I'm here, my star," Nouqai Veil called out, her voice a beacon of reassurance amidst the chaos. "You cannot do this alone, there are too many."

"Tch, they're the ones alone!" Domina retorted, her eyes gleaming with bloodlust. "They're mice, Fal! Mice in a maze of fire and glory! Their gods don't love them like ours!"

But even as the two weaved through the chaos, the battle took an unpredictable turn. A nearby blast sent shrapnel tearing through the air, striking Fal's mount and forcing it into a violent spiral. Domina's five eyes widened in alarm as she watched Fal thrown clear of her saddle, tumbling helplessly toward the ground.

"Fal! Oh, sugarsnaps!" Domina exclaimed, her haze of bloodlust and smoke clearing in an instant. She yanked Azura into a nosedive, the drake's wings folding tightly as they pierced the cloud cover like a falling comet. Her focus honed, Domina's four arms lashed out as she leapt from her mount, intercepting Fal mid-air and pulling her close in a powerful embrace.

Claws raked against the side of a building to slow their descent, azure sparks flying as Domina carved through stone. The impact was brutal, but her alien frame absorbed the force, her piston-like legs cratering the earth upon landing. She straightened from the crouch, gently setting Fal on her feet as the air filled with the rhythmic pounding of approaching boots and the hum of lightsabers igniting.

Azura landed behind them with an earth-shaking crash, his beskar-plated form a monolithic shield against advancing soldiers. The Dovahdrake unleashed a defiant roar, wings spreading wide as his tail lashed out, scattering the would-be attackers like leaves in a storm.

Jonyna Si , the Cathar Jedi who had become a thorn in Domina's side for quite some time now. The feline warrior strode forward, her feline grace and precision poised for the confrontation ahead. The Jedi's influence on the winds had forced Domina from the skies, and now the battlefield had shifted from airspace to the earth.

Domina grinned behind her mask, rising to her full height as she stepped forward, her Mythosaur axe resting casually on her shoulder. With a flick of her talons, she adjusted her snow-white hair, straightening it after the descent which had frazzled it.

"Ya know, kitten..." Domina drawled, her tone teasing, "People are gonna start talking if you keep making it your life's work to chase This One down. If you've got a crush on Prime, just say so~."

Domina whistled upon admiring the collection of wreckage and destruction she had sent crashing to the earth around them. Sapphire fire radiating as she walked through the flames and flury.

"Prime is beginning to think you and Dima are destined for this," Domina continued, her voice thick with amusement. "Locked in our own eternal war. Primes gods are thankful for such a delicious tribute." She chuckled, her admiration for Jonyna's tenacity apparent. Few opponents had managed to keep up with her in combat, but this Cathar Jedi had proven herself worthy time and again.

"Well, kitten, you've brought Prime down to earth. Now what are you gonna do hmm? Somethin spicy? Certainly hope so!" Domina quipped, her tail swishing behind her, the radiant energy in her axe intensifying with every step.

The tension between the two warriors was palpable, the battlefield momentarily holding its breath. Azura stood behind Domina, wings unfurled, his low growl echoing in challenge to the soldiers creeping closer.

As the flames around them danced in the rising wind, Domina Prime advanced through the haze, a creature of myth and destruction ready to unleash her fury once more. "Cause oh yes kitten...it is a good day to FUCK shit up!"

 

[Roman Vossari]

OBJ 2
Tags: Chasianna

​

The landspeeder bucked and swayed, its repulsorlifts struggling against the uneven terrain. Dust, kicked up by the vehicle's frantic passage, swirled around the battered chassis, briefly obscuring the gnarled, ancient trees of Eiattu 6's northern forests. Inside, Roman gripped the edge of his seat, the rough fabric digging into his calloused palms. Beside him, Jedi Ambassador Niel Tahn, subtly shifting the controls, his large, knowing eyes fixed on the path ahead. The Ithorian's usual calm, however, seemed subtly…fractured.

This wasn't just the usual bumpy ride through the war-torn landscape. The tension humming beneath the surface of the Force was palpable, thick enough to taste. It wasn't the typical thrum of conflict—the distant roar of blaster fire or the low growl of approaching starfighters. This was different; a discordant note, a dissonance that pricked at the edges of his awareness.

Their mission: secure the cooperation of the isolated village of Pella. It held strategic importance – a vital crossroads for supply lines, and its people, fiercely independent, possessed resources crucial to the relief effort. Ambassador Tahn, with his unique ability to bridge the gap between the Galactic Alliance and Eiattu's often-resistant populace, was deemed essential. Roman, an eager Padawan, served as his protection – a silent, watchful shadow.

"Something feels…wrong, Roman." Tahn finally stated, his voice a low rumble that resonated from his chest cavity. His gaze, usually fixed on the road ahead, darted to Roman. He didn't need to elaborate. The unsettling tremor in the Force was felt by both of them, a premonition that hung heavy in the air.

"Increased Sith activity?" Roman suggested, his voice barely above a whisper. While the main fighting was concentrated elsewhere, fringe elements were known to operate outside the warzone's main theater, harassing stragglers and disrupting supply lines. That would explain the disquiet in the Force.

 

[Darth Dacian]

E I A T T U 6

Wearing
Wielding: Standard Gear (Bio)
TAGS:
Friends: OPEN
Foes: OPEN​

"This place makes a Tatooine vacation package almost tempting." Almost.

Dacian needed a reprieve. The initial assault was in progress, and Dacian found himself relatively alone, as deep as the rest in finding their purchase within the city. He was currently idling upon a public bench, with what looked to be another figure beside him, a canteen of water in hand as he took a sip. He was dog-tired, not because of the abundance of opponents he faced, but because of the search of a worthy one. Indeed the waves of republic troopers was more than he could ever hope for in terms of quantity, but the quality there left much to be desired. At least Tatooine had those Krayt Dragons to have fun with.

"What do you think?" His head turned, to the figure who sat beside him. It was a republic trooper, still alive but in a state of torpor, having been knocked into it, a large fist-sized dent on his helm. In fact, a slew of the republic's finest dotted his immediate vicinity. Some groaning in agony, others too unconscious to even do so, all of them undoubtably out of the fight. Dacian only put in as much effort in neutralizing them as was needed. They weren't worthy kills, he reasoned, that and a broken body would strain their medical facilities far more than a corpse would strain their graveyards.

"Either way, what I am looking for isn't here." He gave the unconscious trooper a pat on the shoulder before tossing the half empty canteen, the republic insignia upon it visible. Pilfered off one of the soldiers around him, it seemed. "Thanks for the drink, but you're just not my type. Farewell."

Dacian fastened his cloak before wandering off, tip toeing across the bodies that littered the ground, eyes on the lookout for something worthy of his attention. If nothing else, he would continue on his path, cleaning up for the other Sith Lords to take the capital.

 

[Alicio Organa]

Eiattu VI
Unremarkable Abandoned Street, Outside the Palace Landing Strip
- Darth Imperius - Eloise Dinn -
​

Five minutes. All he needed was five minutes.

Coming through a half-dead holoprojector, the visage of Chancellor Organa was giving a speech. Through the haze of static and smoke, the cold-fire tone of the Alderaanian condemned the Sith attack on Eiattu and it's neighbors, urging for unity and solidarity in his soft, even voice. It was a live broadcast, left on as the residents of the corner store it rested in evacuated- somewhere, half-way across the galaxy, the Chancellor was uniting the Alliance.

Sort of. It was Alicio's speech, yes. But that wasn't him giving it.

A dark, shadowed form stared into a shattered building, past shards of jagged glass. Their face was entirely covered by a grim masque, two long curling horns twisting past the temples. A long cloak mantled his shoulders, obscuring the glint of songsteel armor beneath it. His lightsaber remained unignited in his hand, held loosely, but comfortably. The visage of the man was downright villainous, if not for the peaceful aura he possessed, like a gentle sea breeze on the tongue.

He made no effort to hide his presence in the Force, a small, if constant beacon of calm amidst the storm. Beyond him, out of sight from the little storefront he stared into, was the Palace's landing pad. They were prepping their ships for another relief run, off to who knows where to stem the bleeding. But they would be five minutes too late. Alicio had seen a terrible power in the Future, ripping them apart before they could get airborne, damning thousands to waste away in the aftermath of the invasion.

He didn't have to win. All he needed was five minutes.

Correction. All they needed was five minutes.

"You don't have to do this, Eloise." Alicio's voice growled low through his masque. He had left his guard to help evacuate the relief shuttles, had wanted to come alone to avoid risking others... but as his one concession to his own personal safety, he allowed his wife's padawan to protect him. Despite Eloise and him hardly getting along, and the adolescent proving herself time and time again on the battlefield... he still worried for her. He tore his gaze away from the holoprojector, a dull blue glow coming from his mask's skeletal sockets. "It isn't too late to help with the evacuation."

Then, the glowing eyes narrowed, grimacing as he tasted the bitter sweetness of the Dark Side on the air. He was almost here.

 

[Diogo Talon]

Objective 3: Capital Gains
Tag: Kaito Starfall

Capital City, Ettiau

Chaos and carnage reigned over the already-fragile capital city. Dark skies lit up not by stars but by the faint glow of raging embers—effusing hues of crimson and rust. The world was on fire. Beyond the visual senses, the darkness was oppressive. It had an odor, acrid and stale, like the pits of hell. Not that Diogo had ever been to hell, though one could argue Iriondia certainly fit that mold. This wasn't Iridonia, though. This was worse.

Iridonia was instructional; it taught Diogo that he was capable of showing mercy and it was even a virtue. But then there was the Neo-Mandalorian raid on Keshi, where the sheer brutality stripped him of such innocent notions; mercy got people killed. The regret of that incident was like a self-inflicted vibroknife to the belly, twisted in place for extra penance. Regret hurt like a motherfether.

Well, Diogo was done with lessons. If someone was trying to kill him, he'd kill them first. Simple as that. No holding back. Feth mercy.

Sith Troopers, a small task force by the looks of things, entered the abandonded building. They were conducting basic clearing operations, checking buildings, to cover their flanks as the SO troops advanced on the city. Diogo sat in the dark, thus far undetected. Once they were in position, the padawan's cerulean blade pierced the darkness, its steady hum competing with the sonorous cacophony of war outside. Then, there were a series of thumps, as one by one the troopers' lifeless bodies crumpled to the dust-choked floor.

Diogo cautiously stepped out of the building, eyes darting left and right, as thick smoke slithered and curled around his charcoal-colored combat boots. He disappeared through a debris-lined alleyway, searching for the next batch of SO troopers to cleanse from this galaxy.

Mercy and regret were distant memories, left behind in the languid dreams of innocence.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

Allies: Naamino Zuukamano Gerwald Lechner Haro Aven Kyorra Pavanos
Enemies: Ko Vuto Briana Sal-Soren 17-KR7 "Enigma"
[ lightsaber ] [ com-scan link ] [ medkit ]

[ post theme ]​

Outside of their briefings, the cat had spent the time going over the craft that Naami was going to be piloting.

He wanted to be certain he understood every facet of its engineering. But, more so, wanted to run the diagnostics and pre-flight checks for himself. Not that he didn't trust the Sith Navy's ground crew but... he really didn't.

He still didn't understand what the inane obsession with piloting was. It was literally 900 ABY. Not only were pilot droids a thing but they literally had droid starfighters. And, again, not a new technology.

There was absolutely no reason for pilot training. Was it ego? Some kind of dopamine addiction? Mental illness? He wasn't sure, and yet here they were. The cat in the co-pilot seat and Naami boasting to the other crotch-rocket adrenaline junkies.

Just think, they could all be reading a book right meow.

 

[Reicher Vax]

Location: Landing Site 31
Equipment: Standard Issue Sith Trooper Armor, Vibroblade, Standard Issue Blaster Rifle, Datapad, Thermal Detonator
Tag: Darth Malum of House Marr Phaelissia Ashley Nevermore

The roar of battle grew louder as the Sith reinforcements descended into the chaos of Landing Site 31. Reicher Vax crouched behind a partially destroyed barricade, the flickering flames of nearby wreckage casting eerie shadows across his crimson visor. The death of the standard bearer still weighed heavily on the morale of the nearby troops, but Darth Malum's arrival had stemmed the tide of despair, rallying the Sith forces into a semblance of cohesion.

Reicher's commlink crackled with urgency as the reports from his forward scouts came through. The words were clipped and precise, barely audible over the cacophony of battle.

<Lieutenant, the Alliance forces are dug in ahead. Artillery strikes are pinning our advance. We've identified Alliance sniper teams and forward observers guiding their fire. Mortar fire just opened up on our platoon's left flank. Casualties mounting. Requesting orders.>

Reicher's response was immediate, his voice cold and deliberate. <Hold position. Establish counter-sniper operations and prioritize their forward observers. Mark artillery positions for orbital bombardment. Reinforcements will secure the flank, we have the advantage in space currently, let us use it.>

He glanced toward Phaelissia, who had positioned herself near cover after narrowly avoiding the sniper's shot. "The artillery will slow us, but it won't stop us," he said, his tone firm. "We'll neutralize their fire teams and drive straight through their entrenchments. Can you identify and eliminate their observers and sniper positions?"

Before Phaelissia could answer, the sound of a particle rifle discharging echoed across the battlefield. Reicher's visor snapped toward the source—a well-concealed Alliance sniper team had already engaged their lines, their weapons wreaking havoc on the Sith ranks. The red streak of a blaster bolt answered, but it was too late for the Sith troopers who had already fallen.

Reicher's crimson blade snapped to life with a hiss as he stood, surveying the battlefield through the shifting haze. Malum's booming call to arms carried over the din, emboldening the troops and galvanizing their resolve. Reicher raised his voice, cutting through the chaos.

"Veterans, with me! Secure a route to the forward entrenchments. Use the wreckage for cover. Standard squads, suppressive fire on that sniper nest! I want smoke grenades deployed—now!"

A volley of smoke grenades erupted across the battlefield, masking the movements of the advancing Sith troops. Reicher's squad of Old Guard elites moved with precision, their disciplined steps carrying them forward even under heavy fire. Behind them, the reinforcements pouring from Darth Malum's transports bolstered their ranks, adding heavy firepower to counter the Alliance's entrenched positions.

Reicher's commlink buzzed again as reports of mortar strikes and heavy artillery fire filled his earpiece. The Alliance's coordination was masterful, their artillery strikes timed to coincide with sniper and mortar fire to devastating effect.

<Lieutenant, this is Scout Team Theta. We've spotted their forward mortar positions. Permission to engage?>

Reicher paused, assessing the tactical situation as explosions lit up the battlefield. "Granted. Eliminate the mortars and signal for air support. We need those positions silenced before they decimate our advance."

The sudden arrival of Alliance fire support sent another wave of chaos rippling through the Sith lines. Ashley Nevermore's mortars landed with precision, blowing apart barricades and sending Sith troopers scrambling for cover. Reicher's visor locked onto the distant enemy lines, his tactical mind processing the patterns of their attack.

"Veterans, prepare to engage! Prioritize their heavy weapons teams and observers!" he barked.

As the Sith forces surged forward, Reicher's blade cut through the smoke and confusion, a beacon of resolve amidst the chaos. His commlink crackled with another update:

<Orbital fire mission incoming on enemy artillery. Impact in thirty seconds. All units, hold position until the barrage clears.>

The ground trembled as the first streaks of crimson lanced from the sky, Sith orbital fire cutting through the dense Alliance lines ahead. The detonation sent a shockwave across the battlefield, hoping to silence alliance artillery.

Reicher turned toward Malum, nodding sharply. "We have our opening, my Lord. The Alliance line is breaking. If we strike now, we can punch through to the Citadel."

Raising his blade, Reicher pointed toward the enemy defenses. "Forward! For the glory of the Sith Empire!"

The Sith troops surged ahead, their momentum renewed by the orbital bombardment. The path to the Citadel was fraught with danger, but Reicher Vax was determined to see this battle to its end.

​

 

[Azurine Varek]

Together, We Fight As One

Outfit: Clothing/Armor | Glove | Right Arm | Talisman
Weapons: Lightsaber 1 | Lightsaber 2 | Hook Swords

Azurine’s breath caught in her throat as her kick was effortlessly redirected, the point of the stranger’s cane tilting her strike just enough to miss her mark. Time slowed for a fraction of a heartbeat as she watched the soldier collapse, only worried of being unconscious or worse. Her purple eyes, wide with shock, snapped up to meet the smirking face of the Zabrak in the black cloak. The click of his cane against the ground seemed deafening amidst the chaos, a grim metronome to the discordant symphony of war. She hadn't felt him coming. His aura was practically nonexistent until that moment, like a walking mannequin.

The voice, the stance, the almost mocking ease with which he dismissed her strike—it all fell into place. The realization hit her like a blaster bolt to the chest.

Him.

That face was burned into her memory. The face of a man who was the reason for the massacre on her home planet, and the last face she had seen before having the pure light of the Force burn through her blood to free her of poison.

Azzie's fear bubbled beneath her skin, an insidious thing she fought to tamp down. But it wasn’t just the fear of death or pain—it was the fear of failure. Of letting him—this ghost of her past—come back to rub the cost of that in her face. Her hands clenched into fists as anger flared hot in her chest, burning away the shock and doubt. The fire in her veins pushed back the ice that had threatened to settle there.

"I prefer to call it mercy. Have you ever heard of it? On second thought, probably not." She spoke swiftly, though her signature sly grin was plastered onto her face in an attempt to keep her focused on her own fiery determination rather than anything else. “And you,” her voice was hard as durasteel even with the mischievous energy she pushed forward, “still think war is a game. At least I’ve learned a thing or two since the last time you crawled out of the shadows."

The chaos around them blurred into background noise as Azzie squared her shoulders. She wasn’t the Padawan she had been, poisoned and a slave to her own anger. Not right now... not if she could help it at least. Whatever ghosts he wanted to drag her into, whatever cruel lessons he wanted to teach, she would face him. Not out of hatred, but out of a burning need to prove—to him and herself—that she could rise above.

"Unless you mean to surrender, hold your forked tongue or return to the grave you've left vacant."

Azzie shifted her stance, her lightsaber and hook sword flaring brighter. Fire burned through her violet eyes as they flickered toward Aadihr for just a moment—a silent assurance that they would have each other's backs. At the same time, she didn’t need to look to feel exactly where he was in relation to herself. Then she stepped forward, her voice steady and unyielding. "Go ahead, come at me, because you're absolutely not getting to the Citadel while I'm here."

Aadihr Lidos | The Red​

 

[Darth Imperius]

Engaging: Alicio Organa | Eloise Dinn

Even before the Vehemence set down, he could feel the death and terror which ravaged the capital and it's current occupants. Pain, fear, despair and dread were hanging in the air like the heavy smell of ozone, smoke and blood. It was pure, perfect. War was the purest expression of conflict sentient beings knew and they did it so well for such a long time already. The Sith, the Jedi, anyone with weapons embraced it and willingly or unwillingly, committed to it in all it's glory. Of course he thought that those reluctant ones were hypocrites.

The assault shuttle touched on the ground, Landing Site 7, on the flank of the main thrust the first Legion was conducting and now bogged down in the horror that was urban combat. Together with him came a Squad of Extremis Paladins to take command of the Hand troops that landed simultaneously. A Legion of his Stormtroopers to utilize their proficiency for exactly this kind of combat. Their master relished the bloodshed ahead.

Before the ramp had completely gone down, Darth Imperius was marching across it, his quick steps carrying his eagerness and anticipation, the red tabard flowing. His hand already wielded his lightsaber, an ancient relic, shattered and unstable and igniting with a deep sound. The red blade coming to live as the warlord marched forward.

In his helmet Imperius was shut off nearly entirely from the cacophony of battle that was outside, the chaos of moans of pain and screams of orders, artillery pounding and blasters firing. All of it was welded together by his sensors and senses into a cohesive structure, analysed and organized. Within seconds the picture of how the assault was going was clear, both the first wave as well as his second wave that set down in this area. The mind of the transhuman worked at peak, his thrill of battle amplifying it.

"Send a battalion to the left flank, reinforce the First Legion's side to close any gaps. First and Second Regiment push forward, here and here, Third in support and Fourth in reserve. Establish contact with Darth Malum of House Marr so our assaults can be coordinated."

Whatever Sith abomination he was now, his tactical expertise was way beyond any boundless passion and lust for murder. It was so deeply rooted within the ancient Zakuulan, that it became a muscle memory of its own. His voice carried clear and precise across comms and vox caster, calm and measured.

With that his accompanying Extremis Paladins offered a bow and ran off, the entirety of the slowly gathering troops was moving across a frontline of several blocks from their landing zone towards the citadel. Almost immediately contact was reported and the troops of the Hand entered their first fray with the Alliance, their black armors already caked in dust and blood. A baptism of fire that would herald an era of the cleansing fire that the Alliance will learn to fear.

On his HUD he saw a potential opportunity, near an abandoned street there seemed to be gap in the Alliance defence lines, a momentary lapse or a failure of oversight, it mattered not. Darth Imperius moved ahead of his troops, his lightsaber in motion as it deflected incoming bolts of blasters, his mere presence offering a boost to his troopers and setting in a sense of dread in the enemies'. He lead the very speartip of his assault, moving as an unrelenting force of nature, pushing forward with brutal determination.

 

[Omon Kaa / Darth Diem]

Wearing / Armed : BIO


This world basked in the light for far too long, becoming rich, fat and vulnerable, while guided by the Jedi feeble nature.
But that which basks in Light is forever followed by the shadow. Eiattu 6 alignment finally arrived, and shadow is in perfect sink with its castor. Time has come for this world to return under its proper governing force.

Empire didn't take any chances on this one, it was a hard and brutal attack of combined Sith forces.

Skies from the ground must have looked glorious, with all the star destroyers and cruisers opening its barrage of death. But even so, commendable, in a way, Alliance and their Jedi servants, raise their banners to meet them.

The space battle was quite the site for Omon and his men, as they bypass it in two cloaked Shikkar corvettes.

Omon could feel the destruction and death all around him. His extreme Force Sensitivity fueled his dark side, charging him like a plasma torpedo.
His yellow Sith eyes would have small spikes of red, bursting from the irises. He couldn't wait to release this power on anyone and anything.

Two ships entered the atmosphere, darting down to the pre-arranged attack point.

As an Inquisitor, Omon had the lay of the Capital center, where he picked several high points.. provided they still standing ..as a good ventage points for his troopers.
That's why one of the ships was filled with the mix of his elite Jaegissary unit, and elite Sith Troopers. Though this time, since they are facing Jedi.. his troops also had a red fabric tied around their armors, on it the Sith runes almost pulsated with a golden glow.
While other ship contained only several elite Sith Troopers and himself. Leaving the rest weight, to be filled with anti-personal projectiles, heavy proton torpedoes, EMP charges, and several electrified poles.

The voice of the Jaegissary commando cracked through the com link..
"Buildings in sight, we are starting the disembarking now. For the Empire! For Lord Diem!" ..sound of the wind gust was the last thing he heard, before com link went silent.
He observed as the commando snipers jumped and jet down, on top of the buildings, always followed by 1 Sith Trooper as a backup.
Some jumped on lower floors with wider terraces, all depending which part of the battlefield they will cover.

Omon, wearing his Inquisitorial armor, hardened by the alchemy of Sith runes.. donned his prized Mandalorian helmet, then checked his gear.
Two hidden vibroblades, secured hand explosives, blaster holstered on his side, his main long lightsaber and the short one on his back.

As they were coming close to the drop site, he could clearly see that Alliance still had operational anti-personal artillery.
He leaned on the co-pilots seat.. "Jam their coms!" ..then back on to the gunners seat.. "Fire missiles and torpedoes in to those systems.. Then turn the ship right away. Open the doors for me to jump out, then boost the rear shields to the max. It should be enough for you to take any lucky shot." he moved beside the Troopers, and on to the doors.
"Rest of you, disembark on the landing coordinates, and provide covering fire for any troops stuck in the front." on his words they nodded, and saluted.

30 seconds later, the ship exit its cloaking state, as the barrage of missiles scream toward the enemies artillery.
As ordered, pilot turn the ship, and opened the side doors, while cruising above ground. Taking his lightsaber, Omon jumped out.. hearing the buzz of the engines, as the ship speeded off toward the somewhat 'safe' landing site not far from him.

The moment his feet force-landed on to the ground, several blasters started firing in to him. The crimson blade ignited in his hand, repealing two bolts right away. His upper body bobbed and moved from side to side, as the deadly light illuminated his helmet, inches away from it.
He would hit his first one, with a returning bolt to the stomach, soon enough another one, and another..

They stopped firing, hiding themselves behind a semi collapsed wall. But Omon could sense them and their positions, as though seeing through that wall. He made a rotation with his body, unleashing his lightsaber in a guided throw.. crimson light flew around the wall, and back in to his hand. Followed by the sound of blaster rifles and bodies falling to the ground.

The chant and battle-cries familiar to him could be heard just over the pile which was once a building.

Not waiting for more enemy fire, Omon Force jumped from one beam on to another, then running across the remaining parts of the building floor.
From the end of it, he could see his friend Darth Malum of House Marr advancing with sizable force.

"..Hmh.." he smiled under his mask, seeing a familiar face.

He jumped down, and used the shadows to move toward his comrades. And just then, either due to his guard drop, or relaxing from seeing a friendly face.. a bolt hit his head, throwing him on the back.

His commando snipers, on the rooftops, found the enemy and eliminated him immediately.
"Master! Are you alright?!" worry in the sound was genuine. Their conditioning made their loyalty undying.

"If I had any other helmet on.. I don't think I would be. That was something high-power that hit me. Thanks boys." He got up, with rage building up, for not sensing danger. But from the look of it, this shooter must have been pretty far away. Otherwise he wouldn't drop on his ass.

Lightsaber started to dance in the air, deflecting enemy fire, while walking toward his troops.
Once they saw him, several troopers ran to him and provided suppressing fire, so he can get to Malum and the boys.

"Reporting for duty, Lord Inquisitor".


Darth Malum of House Marr Reicher Vax Phaelissia

​

 

[The Red]

"We've talked for all of what, two sentences or so?" The Zabrak leaned further on his cane, his eyes closing for a moment. Rage. Anger. Protectiveness. The Miraluka was protective over the woman, was it? A faint smile took over as he opened his eyes, glancing between the pair of Jedi. "You're right, I do think mercy is a waste of time, but how would you know that about me? Because of how I was brought back? I didn't plan on being brought back you know. I died a good death as any Sith should. But something was clearly wrong for them to bring me back after all this time."

He stood straighter then, idly rolling his shoulders as he let the cloak fall. Countless scars marred his skin. His body had been remade to that as when he died, from when he was left, save for one wound. A hole in his chest, cracked and blackened. A sign of how unnatural it was he was alive. He unsheathed the cane, revealing a dull blade. Rounded almost, as if it didn't hold an edge.

A flash of red changed that. A red edge, burning across the steel, hugging it as a proper edge should.

"I've a part to play now, and I plan on playing it. If you want to stop me, make sure I stay dead, mm?" Then he was on them. A grin now plastered on his faceas he brought the edged weapon down with all it's weight onto the Miraluka. The healer, as it was. If he let the man focus on support, it'd be that much more difficult. What was it the kids said in their games.

"Focus the healer."

Azurine Varek | Aadihr Lidos

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery stood atop the rooftop of a crumbling skyscraper, her silhouette framed against the eerie glow of the Sith-manufactured eclipse. The darkened sky cast long shadows over Eiattu's embattled capital city, broken only by the fiery eruptions of artillery and the intermittent flash of blaster fire. Below, the streets churned with chaos — troopers, tanks, and Force-users clashed in a battle that would decide the fate of the Citadel towering in the distance.

The wind whipped through her hair, loosening strands from the practical ponytail that framed her face. Her fiery amber eyes narrowed as they tracked the movements of Sith forces pouring into the district, their dark robes and crimson blades cutting through the urban maze like malevolent phantoms.

In her right hand, she held her lightsaber hilt, its metal gleaming faintly in the dim light. She rolled it between her fingers, feeling the familiar weight of the weapon that had been her companion through countless battles. The blade hadn't ignited yet, but the promise of its radiant fire was a heartbeat away. She was the Sword of the Jedi —and she was ready to wield that title once more.

The memory of her newborn daughter flickered in her mind, a tether that anchored her resolve. Valery had fought to protect the future for her children and the galaxy before, but today, that fight felt more personal than ever. The Sith threatened everything she held dear, and she would not allow their shadow to engulf the light.

A voice crackled in her commlink, breaking through the sounds of war. "Master Noble, enemy forces are advancing on the eastern quadrant. We need to hold them here or the Citadel is lost."

"Understood," she replied, her voice calm but laced with a steel edge. She clipped the commlink back to her belt and took a deep breath, centering herself in the Force. Her gaze swept over the approaching Sith lines one last time before she stepped forward to the edge of the rooftop.

The wind surged around her, carrying the hem of her dark Jedi robes as if the galaxy itself held its breath. Valery raised her lightsaber hilt slightly, and with a snap-hiss, the brilliant violet blade ignited, casting a defiant light against the oppressive darkness.

"Come on," she muttered, her voice low and dangerous as she leapt from the rooftop, landing with precision into the fray below. Her blade arced through the chaos, its light a beacon of hope and resistance as she surged forward to meet the Sith head-on.

The Sword of the Jedi had returned to the battlefield, and the Sith would find no sanctuary here.

Darth Dacian ​

 

[Silas Westgard]

Location: Eiattu
Objective: Defend the citadel
Tag: Quinn Varanin

"How long have we left until the next wave of attacks?" Silas asked while looking down at a holographic map of the citadel "Anytime now, intel suggests an attack force is on its way now" the captain responded calmly, unconcerned about the progress the Sith were making. Folding his arms, Silas sighed and pointed down to the defensive position they were in "Holding the wall is crucial to our defensive efforts. Our second line is on standby, but I hope we will not have to resort to that"

Most of their heavy duty gear was already on the battlements, such as turrets, Anti air, and artillery that was placed down below. However, the longer time went on the more the Sith threw at them. For now, they were holding, although if help didn't come soon Silas was unsure as to how much more they could take of this.

Looking into the ruined streets around the citadel, Silas could sense something coming their way in between the rubble and desolation they had created in their stride. Weaker Sith who had already dared climb their walls, this one on the other was much more sinister.

"Prepare your men captain, I sense we are about to have our biggest test yet..."
​

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Field Attire
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike | confiscated slugthrower rifle

"I've a part to play now, and I plan on playing it. If you want to stop me, make sure I stay dead, mm?"

"On that, we agree." Aadihr replied bluntly. Perhaps it was something about the concentration of Dark Auras in the warzone, but his usual desire to spare life was... absent. Perhaps worse still, he didn't even seem to care.

Aadihr knew logically this was atypical, but had no time to reflect as the Shell's blooded blade swept towards him in a powerful arc.

Aadihr pulled up the butt end of his pike to meet it, deflecting the first slash with the phrik core as he switched on his emitter, using the momentum to rotate both the pike and pivot himself into a counter-cut following behind The Red 's blade; a careful riposte to prod at the unknown opponent; to gauge their reflex and defense after such a powerful opening blow.

The Red | Azurine Varek​

 

[Eloise Dinn]

Eiattu VI
Unremarkable Abandoned Street, Outside the Palace Landing Strip
Alicio Organa Darth Imperius​

"You don't have to do this, Eloise. It isn't too late to help with the evacuation."

"What, and let you fall victim to friendly fire?"

Towering beside Alicio, Eloise appeared calm, almost serene. She always got like this just before a battle. It was a little like coming home, knowing that she would soon be doing what she did best: killing the bad guys. This time the enemy was the Sith. A foe she was very familiar with.

It had been a while since she and Alicio had last spoken beyond an acknowledging nod or a passing hello. Eloise was a little older, taller and stronger. Her natural red roots were showing, as she had begun the long and tedious process of growing out of her dyed purple hair. She gave the impression of someone who was mid-transformation. Who she would become was unclear so long as the change remained incomplete.

"Seriously, who came up with that helmet?" she added, gesturing to the Chancellor's masque. "You look like your name is Darth Frostbite or some chit." Her tone was fairly mild, though still abrasive as always. That was just how she was.

Her attention was abruptly overtaken by the approach of an army, spearheaded by a Sith Lord. The latter was bad enough, but with all those soldiers at his command? "See that building over there?" she said to Alicio, pointing to the smoldering ruins of a recently bombed skyscraper. "I'm going to bring it down on top of them." If nothing else, it would at least cut Darth Imperius off from his army. Divide and conquer.

Reaching out with the Force, she gripped the already weakened structure. Chunks of duracrete, shards of transparisteel, and scorched durasteel beams teetered and began to crumble, finally collapsing on top of the invaders. Those who weren't crushed by the debris would have to find a way around it.

 

[Kahlil Noble]

Allies: Ashley Nevermore | Vera Noble
Enemies: Darth Malum of House Marr | Reicher Vax | Phaelissia

"- And there we go."

Kahlil let out a breath as he finished down his last marking. Behind him, the golems he'd made marked to their positions. Beings twice his height, powered by the Shards and Kyber that had aligned with him and Vera Noble those many years ago. Runic sequences formed along them before they reached up. A barrier formed with it, spreading over the whole of the capital building. A shield, and one that could stop all manner of artillery and blaster fire. The building felt peace for a brief moment as the shield settled down, closing the dome right to the top.

The Jedi Master stood then, standing before one of the golems as he stared out towards the approaching Sith. While gunfire couldn't get through, people still could. It was little different from the Gungan shields of Naboo. He lowered his hand, taking in it his lightsaber in one hand as the green blade sprang to life from the cross guard hilt.

"Padawan Noble, work with the smaller golems and the noble guard. We're keeping them out."

He paused before glancing down to his daughter. And smiled ever so faintly.

"We've got this."

 

[Kyorra Pavanos]

Squaddies: Naamino Zuukamano | Micah tol Powl
Allies: Gerwald Lechner
Opponents: Ko Vuto | Briana Sal-Soren | 17-KR7 "Enigma"​

The cockpit lights of Kyorra's starfighter flickered softly, illuminating her determined expression as she finished her pre-flight checks. Her hands moved with practiced ease over the controls, flipping switches and adjusting the settings she preferred. The hum of the engines beneath her feet vibrated through her bones, a sensation that was both familiar and grounding.

Ahead, the void of space stretched infinitely, broken only by the glowing silhouettes of the Sith blockade. Harrower-class Dreadnoughts loomed in the distance, their massive forms flanked by swarms of Sith Interceptors weaving through the darkness. The Sanctuary Pipeline was choked, its once-open passage now a deadly gauntlet.

Kyorra took a deep breath, her fingers brushing against the controls. She could almost hear her grandmother's voice, calm and commanding, as if Ishana Pavanos were sitting in the co-pilot seat beside her. "Flying is about connection, Kyorra. You and the craft have to move as one. Trust yourself, trust the machine, and never hesitate."

Her gaze flicked to her radar. The red blips of enemy fighters grew closer with every passing second. In the distance, the faint glow of turbolasers lit up the darkness, and the edges of her canopy reflected the ominous red light.

"Stay calm," she muttered to herself, her voice steady. Her training had prepared her for this. Every lesson, every drill in simulators, and every grueling session with her grandmother had led to this moment.

The squadron's formation tightened as they approached the blockade, Kyorra's starfighter slotting seamlessly into her position. She adjusted her comms, ready to receive commands from the lead pilot. For now, the silence inside her cockpit was all she had, the thrum of the engines her only company.

Her hands gripped the control yoke as the enemy fighters began to maneuver, their sleek forms breaking away from the Dreadnoughts like predators scenting prey.

"Alright, Pavanos," she whispered, her gaze hardening. "Time to show them what you've got."

Her targeting systems locked onto the first Interceptor, the reticle flashing green as the enemy ship darted into view. Kyorra breathed deeply, steadying herself. The weight of her family's legacy hung in the air, but she pushed it aside. This wasn't about her grandmother—it was about her. When one of the other acolytes checked in, Kyorra's thoughts dispersed as she remarked. "Yeah, formation's tight, I've got my eyes peeled." She wasn't sure if he was talking to her being the new kid or Haro Aven so she for once, refrained from making some sort of sarcastic remark.

 

[Vera Noble]

Eiattu

​

Tag: Kahlil Noble

​

Vera stood beside one of the smaller golems, her hair tied back in a practical bun and her lightsaber hilt already in hand. At Kahlil's words, a smirk spread across her lips, her amber eyes sparkling with the same mischievous glint that often lit her mother's gaze.

"Padawan Noble?" she echoed with a perked brow, glancing up at her father. "Alright, Master Noble. I'm ready."

Her tone was lighthearted, but the respect beneath her playful words was evident. Seeing him like this — calm, commanding, and focused in the midst of chaos — filled her with pride. It had been some time since both her parents had taken to the battlefield like this, her mother back on her feet and her father leading the charge. She was glad to have him here, fighting beside her again.

Turning her attention to the smaller golems and the noble guard forming up behind them, she gave a small nod, her smirk softening into something more determined. "Alright, let's keep them out, shall we?" she said to the guards and golems, her voice confident as she stepped into a position to coordinate their defense.

Before heading fully into the fray, she glanced back at her father, her smirk returning. "Let's make sure Mom doesn't outshine us today. We'd never hear the end of it."

With a wink, she ignited her own lightsaber, the brilliant emerald blade springing to life with a snap-hiss. She adjusted her stance, her gaze shifting to the battlefield beyond the shield. The Sith were coming, but Vera wasn't about to let them take one step further than they already had.

It was time to show them why the Noble name carried so much weight.

​

 

[Credius Nargath]

Like waves of blood and plasteel, the Sith Legions fell upon the capital of Eiattu, with hundreds if not thousands of SIth acolytes, knights and Lords accompanying and commanding these troops. Credius in his capacity as Lord of Hunger set himself ever so slightly apart, as rather than commanding the troops or acting as an arm chair general, he brought his own small force for the occassion. Built by the N&Z and already tested on Pergitor, the Arbalesk droids were brought down from the Usurper which would be held behind the fleeting actions of the large fleets of the Sith.

At the head of his own small contingent of about a hundred droids, three of Credius' Sceleratii could be found, with the Lord of Hunger himself in between his sceleratii and the contingent of arbalesk droids. With the contingent marching in unison towards the Citadel, with the thunder of shells, artillery and bombardments ressonating overhead, upon reaching the edges of the capital city, the Arbalesk showed exactly why they were quite the good droid for this kind of battle, as they had a level of coordination and adaptivity which made them rather unpredictable in the field. Headed by the Sceleratii, the hundred strong contingent would clean up pockets of resistance that had managed to survive the first wave of Sith Troopers, swarming the small remaining, winded groups of Alliance commandos and troopers with expert tactics, utilizing their weapons to land expert shots and their physicality to make full use of the broken buildings, the ruined walls and remains of what had once been wealthy homes.

Whenever the Arbalesk had opponents that could actually fight back, the Sceleratii would actually take the front and show their own strength, yet...the closer the contingent came to the Citadel, the harder and the heavier the resistance became. Where Credius had hoped the Sith Legions would've broken the Galactic Alliance's resistance already, it turned out they had yet to reach this point, something which became clear when his contingent had to mop up another pocket of resistance, as they surprised him by blowing themselves up and taking easily a dozen of his arbalesk droids with them.

Moving up towards the remains of these brave, yet foolhardy Alliance soldiers, the Lord of Hunger reached down with his hand, grabbing a still-breathing, wounded soldier by the throat, knocking off their helmet with his free hand as he held the man close to his mask, the sound of his breathing ragged and hollow. "You arrogant fool...did you really think the Sith would not retaliate?"

"The Alliance will not... break," The soldier muttered, clenching his teeth, before suddenly screaming in pain and despair when his life seemed to be literally drained from within his body.

"Once we're done here..." The Lord of Hunger's wrist shifted slightly, snapping the neck of the wounded soldier, dropping him to the ground like a ragdoll. "You wish the Alliance had been broken long ago."

TAG: Gil Horn

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Anomaly. Magnarotors inoperable. Reorientation impossible. Initiating crash-landing sequence."

Though they had not been struck by enemy fire, the lead ACRC began to rapidly loose altitude, dropping through the sky like a stone. It shifted slightly on it's side, falling down towards the empty streets at an awkward angle. The other two followed it down, afflicted by the same malady. They, however, wouldn't have a chance to suffer the same fate. In a split second, the magnarotors of the further ACRC were cut cleanly through, the entire aircraft starting to tailspin faster and faster down through the air. The other was cut straight in half, both portions tumbling away from one another and spilling their contents into the open air.

Darth Carnifex held tightly to the lateral door as His aircraft continued to plummet further and further down. Seeing that a crash was inevitable, He slammed the door shut and latched it into place. He then reached out with the Force, shielding the interior of the ACRC right before it crashed into the ground. The whole aircraft bounced upon impact, skidding along the empty street before smashing into the corner of a building, virtually gutting it and causing most of it to collapse into the street.

Part of the ACRC had been buried by the fallen building, it was quickly cleared away as the Dark Lord used the Force to tear open the fallen craft. He was the first to emerge, then came the surviving crew of His ship. Both pilots had perished, they were cybernetically wired to the ship's internal hardware and couldn't have been removed even if they wanted to. They died for His greater glory.

"Secure adjacent structures. I want overwatch across the whole district. They'll be coming."

The soldiers spun into action, breaking down doors and quickly slipping inside the buildings nearest to the crash. Inside, they'd launch aerial probes that would survey the surrounding streets and alleys, allowing them to closely monitor enemy movement around them. The Dark Lord, for His part, stayed right in the middle of the street. He'd discarded the rifle for the moment, He wouldn't need it. His scale-cloak shimmering vibrantly with the flames of the fallen ACRC. In His right hand rested His lightsaber, yet unlit.

From the sky fell Domina Prime, the Dark Lord's daughter born from the chaos of the Netherworld. She too had been grounded, much like He had. He would let her make the first move, her ferocity and impatience would play well into their opening gambit.

"A pity our paths cross again like this, my child. Show me what you have learned since."

He ignited His blade, and angled it's tip towards the young Aris.

Daring him to make the first move.

Domina Prime | Jonyna Si | Aris Noble ​