Invasion Oderint Dum Metuant | The First Order Invasion of Galactic Alliance held Mustafar Hex

[Progflaw99]

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Location: Mustafar, Vader's Castle​

Allies: First Order & Allies​

Enemies: Galactic Alliance & Allies​

​

Engaging: [member="Jamie Pyne"]​

​

In Vicinity:​

[member="Samka Derith"] | [member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Ara Ren"]​

[member="Kaalia Voldaren"] | [member="Zmej Ren"] | [member="Abraxas"]​

[member="Connor Harrison"]​

[ Theme ]​

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​

A droplet of blood dropped down into the Ren's eye as he slowly and methodically paced, wiping it away again with the back of his hand. The girl had much to learn about the Ren, in fact the galaxy did - but what she didn't know was no fault of her own. Operating in the shadows, only recently exposed to the light - the Ren were anything but Sith. In fact, the Sith would likely cringe at the thought of being compared to such closed minded pawns. A shake of Castor's head was all he deemed appropriate in response. She hadn't been at the Bastion during the Ssi-Ruuvi Imperium's assault, she hadn't watched her brothers and sisters die at the jaws of mindless beasts.. but it was not her fault. As he responded, he warily watched the girl - to give her time to recuperate was a dangerous game, though by the looks of it, she was nearly resigned.

"And what do you know of the Sith? Do not miss the subtle differences, you as well as anyone should understand the consequences of overlooking something subtle.. like a crossguard."​

​

With that he deactivated the girl's lightsaber, the low hum fading into silence. Another large vibration shook the castle as something elsewhere seemed to crash - perhaps a lift. Castor raised an eyebrow, a simple glance at the entrance to the library the only heed given. The girl seemed confused, and rightly so. What had she seen of the Ren? Nothing but incursions into Galactic Alliance territory, nothing but the dominion of worlds - though how much was propaganda and how much was experience? No doubt this encounter would be used as reference for the brutality of the Ren - and yet, perhaps not. A strange thought occurred to the Knight, his mind working over the situation. As he took a moment to seek out the others through the Force, he briefly touched on those whom Jamie might consider allies, quickly redirecting till he sensed the others of his brood - some were in good health, others questionable.

Unfortunate for the Knight, it appeared as if their situation were somewhat precarious. He had suffered her attempt at rationalizing her fear, her anger and frustration - and he had grown weary of it. The girl failed to understand, whether by simple resistance to something she viewed as evil or perhaps a view clouded by the fact that Castor had tried to teach her in the same manner as he would a disciple - it would require a different angle. Just as he was about to retort to her comparison, she said something that caught him off guard. *Weak? Even still she fights, crippled, wounded yet insolent.* It was a curious thing for the Jedi to say, to call them weak after having been overpowered. It raised a question in the Ren, one that would have to be asked later... this was not the place, nor the time.

"Weak?" He smiled at the woman where she sat. "Interesting."​

​

Had he been standing next to her, perhaps he would have given the woman a backhand for speaking in such a manner but no - his brutality had served its purpose to go farther would only cement the girl's conviction that he was a member of the Sith. Having deactivated the saber, he quickly tucked the hilt into the utility belt worn around his waist, next to his blade. With it secured, the Knight retrieved his back, hands scooping up the grenade and securing the flap once more. Having done this, the Ren had one more thing to do before he could do what he needed to. Eyes boring into the woman as he did so, Castor moved his hands to the armor he wore, fingers fumbling with the remaining straps as he began to separate the plates from his body. Only taking a moment, he'd doffed the largest pieces, gauntlets truly the only remaining portions of the armor. With a shrug of his shoulder he slung the pack once more and retrieved the blaster carbine from where it had been propped up. By all appearances, he was preparing to leave - and then he did something that might have seemed strange to the Jedi.

"Your friends have arrived, outside. You no doubt wish to return to them no?" A question, though not the one he truly wanted an answer to. "Perhaps you should come with me - I feel our conversation has only just begun, but as I'm not a fan of interruptions, perhaps it is best to leave this place."​

​

With those final words, he approached the girl, impressing upon her a small measure of force - though he doubted she had the strength to resist. Crouching down beside her, he reached his arms around, beneath her legs and around her torso - while attempting to avoid the gash he'd made earlier as best he could. Pain was a lesson, each sharp stab a reminder - but applied without a purpose it was nothing. The girl's suffering had served its purpose, now it was time for something else. Rising to his feet, woman cradled in his grasp he turned and made for the entry he'd created.

"Do not resist, it will only make this more difficult for both of us."​

​

With a final few steps, he did his best to create a shroud around the two, the dark presence of the Force no doubt present however muted. If they were lucky, or if the Force willed it, they would remain a shadow, their existence little more than a drop in the rain of Force Power contained both within the building and without. He had a plan, now it was simply to execute it.

​

Spoiler

Castor Ren's Equipment

Armor: Armour of Ren

Weapons:

• Krigsgaldr - The Ashen Blade (Sheathed)
• C-51 Charric Pistol (Holster, small of back)
• EE-3 Carbine Rifle (Resting on ground)
• "Daylight" (Ignited)

Explosives: (In Pack/Attached)

• Flex-5 Detonite Tape (2 Rolls)
• 2 x Glop Grenades
• 1 x Cryoban Grenade

​

​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

​

Location: Somewhere near the Alliance Base
Objective: Blow up the Alliance base and collect Jedi Skulls for the Skull Throne
Allies: [member="Jude Falkrowe"], [member="Koshka Scalvez"]
Enemies: [member="Michael Sardun"], [member="Aeron Kreelan"], [member="Grozkalla"]
Equipment:

• Asmenys iv tave Atma-Va
• Upraetor iv Kiztaga
• Imperator's Raiment
• Shuk'Orok
• Primordial Signet Ring

The staff deflected off of Sardun's shoulder, but still would leave a good sized dent in whatever armor was covering it if there was any at all. His lightsaber cut along Sardun's stomach, but thanks to the barrier enveloping his skin and the fact that it came in at an odd angle meant that it didn't pierce through his flesh as the Sith Lord desired. They were dangerously close now, Sardun's other shoulder was jamming up against his chest and he found himself being pushed back towards a nearby wall. His feet dug into the loose soil as he fought against the Jedi's truck-like charge, but found that he could not find leverage as the ground was chewed up by any attempt to slow himself.

He flung his staff towards the ground where it rooted itself like a rod, its power still radiating outward like a beacon of hate and fear. His lightsaber would also be useless in such close quarters, so he flicked off its blade but kept it held tightly in his right hand. His back hit the wall with enough force to crack it, and that was where he found his leverage to retaliate. Sardun was smart to barrel into him at his chest, Carnifex couldn't get a clear shot as his head or face, but his back was exposed to the Sith Lord's calloused fists.

He rained down blow after blow on Sardun's back, aiming specifically for the spinal column and back of the neck in an attempt to pry him off or outright beat him into submission. And Carnifex was a big man, he weighed quite a lot in muscle and was no stranger to such close quarter brawls.

 

[Jamie Pyne]

​

Location: Mustafar, Vader's Castle​

Allies: Galactic Alliance​

Enemies: First Order​

Directly Engaging: [member="Castor Ren"]​

​

Jamie studied everything she could of the man. His expressions, every furrow of his brow, every perk of his lips, the tone in which he spoke, the way he carried himself and how he walked, right down to the subtle ways he suppressed his own pain and tiredness from their square off. It was all she could do, really. The blonde was hardly going far on her own, though not through any fault or injury of her legs. Exhaustion, coupled with the excruciating pain burning against her upper back saw to that. The Ren had her lightsaber to boot, leaving her with little to fight with but words, words that she continued to use to berate him with. Perhaps Jamie just didn't know when it was time to close her mouth. Maybe she wanted to see just how far she could push him, stupid as it were to tempt fate in such a dangerous manner. Part of that could be explained away by her age, still that of a teenager in most senses of the word, and by human standards, even if she were raised in a far more regal manner, there was only so much a person could endure both physically and mentally before niceties fell away.

Watching as the man stripped away the ruined plates, casting them to the side, she considered for a moment the idea of gripping the man with the Force and hurling him through the opening made in the window to his death. Whether or not she could succeed was questionable, and the repercussions for failing might be the straw that breaks the bantha's back. Then again, even if she did manage to succeed and throw him to his death, the issue of getting off of Mustafar was still one of great obstacle. For all intents and purposes, despite her fear of what might happen should he indeed take her with him, he was, at the moment, her best chance to get off of the planet alive. Even as he spoke a tremor could be felt as it ran its' course through the castle. It seemed others were still quite engaged in what had become a full scale battle.

"I know more of the Sith than you would ever think." Her eyes lifted in a harsh glare towards Castor. "I've seen true Sith. Pureblooded Sith."​

Vrak had been one of her greatest misfortunes to date. A wicked man so apt to kill without question that his very existence had required permanent, lifelong restraints beneath the oceans of Naboo. Despite his escape, she still worked to find and re-apprehend the Sith. But that was another story altogether. One that Castor needn't be privy to while she sat broken on the floor of a Sith Lord's ancient lair. Whatever differences Castor believed he shared with his Ren brothers and sisters from the Sith were obscured from Jamie. She saw nothing but similarities between them. Their brutality, their yearning for war and lust for anger and power. To the Jedi, they were indistinguishable from one another. She would have commented on the fact that Castor claimed the Sith were disorganized, clueless maniacs, yet here he was, in one of the most notorious Sith palaces in the galaxy, exploring Sith history. Or that to sate his own lust for anger and revenge he had cut her hair off! Instead she chose to be otherwise silent on the matter. At least for now.

The blonde could tell that her earlier words had resonated in some way with Castor, that he had taken insult to her calling him weak, as she suspected he might. It might seem odd to someone standing with physical victory over an opponent, but Jamie believed in morality, in compassion, in empathy, and life. To her, Castor had lost in nearly all of those ways, or was towing the line dangerously close. He had surprised her, unaware that a war was to come to Mustafar the very same week that she had planned this research excursion. Had she been prepared for such a fight, she would have opted for better protection, been more aware of her surroundings. Fairness, she understood, rarely counted in war, but the principle of the matter was still important to her.

"You've threatened me. You've harmed me. You've humiliated me. But that doesn't make you strong. Strength doesn't come from humiliating another person."​

Azure eyes followed the Knight's movements as he collected his belongings, backpack and blaster. Her own still lay on the floor a distance away from the two. But the Galactic Alliance had arrived. Whatever forces they brought had likely become entangled with the First Order's. Perhaps that was related to the earlier rumblings, and the tremor through the structure she had felt. The question he asked, rhetorical as it clearly was, still prompted the girl's nearly immediate response, partially cutting off his last words even as he spoke them.

"I'd like to return home."​

​

There was no excitement behind the idea of traveling to wherever Castor Ren called home. She'd been tortured once before and was not the sort to hold up well against it. If it were secrets the man were after, the girl had nothing to offer. She was not some ranking official in the Alliance, nor was she a Knight of the New Jedi Order. The only information she had was of her own people, and her conviction to that was unshakable. The one and only cause she would die unquestionably for was Naboo. But Naboo did not seem to be the angle the Ren was after. Perhaps he sought to somehow convert her, another prospect for which she thought quite frivolous. Regardless, it didn't seem the man was apt to take no for an answer, and Jamie was in no condition to oppose the man in any case. She shied away at first approach, her muscles tensing instinctively as he began to lift her from the floor almost too gently. The sharp pain in her rib came soaring back the instant her abdomen felt even the most minor pressure against it, driving a strained whimper from her.

Again the thought of gravely harming him as he lifted her into his arms returned. The closeness and vulnerability in her favor, but the inability to escape thereafter quickly suppressed the idea once more. Jamie remained relatively silent at first, laying her arm across the back of the man's neck to rest her injured hand on his shoulder. Her free hand pointed to her small pack that was still on the floor as he began to make for the exit. Within it was her camera, and a few small personal affects that held value to her. Things she wouldn't like to lose.

"My bag. Please. It's important."​

 

[Allyson Locke]

R U T A N
In the Jungle

[member="Vexen"] - The only one with a brain
[member="Kaili Talith"] - what is love? Baby don't hurt me
[member="Micah Talith"] - The reason this all happened
@Kellyn Murr - The Real SIS agent

Enemies: TX-130T Tank | [member="FN-888"] | [member="FN-4077"] | [member="Andor Callro 457"]

The speeder tore at the landscape as Allyson felt them draw closer. Slowing down to a halt, Allyson waved Kaili to get off the bike. If they spoke, they could alert the troopers that Micah and Vexen had engaged. Creeping through the greenery, Allyson drew the pair of pistols from under her mini skirt (dont ask how or why). Each pistol’s safety being removed she continued to creep. Unlike the others - the Force was a bit absent, minus technology manipulation. So the Corellian had to rely on her wits and her guns.
Coming through the brush, Allyson kept the pistols aimed towards the backside of the troopers (FN-888 and FN-4077). “Drop the weapons, You’re on Alliance territory and we have you surrounded.” Allyson had to stiffle a chuckle, she felt like one of those coppers on those tv shows catching the bad guys or something. The only difference here was that she was missing a lot of the fabric to her bar wench outfit and looked like a different kind of professional.

 

[Zef Halo]

CLOSE TO BARKHESH ALLIANCE BASE
ALLIES: [member="Darth Carnifex"] ; [member="Koshka Scalvez"]
ENEMIES: [member="Michael Sardun"] and his booboo [member="Bethany Kismet"] | [member="Grozkalla"]
EQUIPMENT: Duraplast Armor Stormtrooper version of this basically | C-51 | Wrist Datapad | Vibroknife

ENGAGING IN LOVE: <3 [member="Aeron Kreelan"]


Reality was something else for Jude.

He saw the world crumbling around him but the blonde woman he held in his arms was his saving line. The beacon of hope. Their love would prevail, he believed.

But now he had doubts. Fear. Chills running down his spine.

Could this be the end?

"Mad? No, love, just-" He began softly before the blonde woman beneath him interrupted him.

No kids?

Jude's heart skipped a beat and the dread within him piled up. Thanks to the edge lord's staff.

"Baby, please, I am sure we can talk this through, right?" Funnily enough, Falkrowe had completely forgotten about the force-imbued silverware that was being hurled by the woman at him a few minutes ago. That Jude Falkrowe knew there was no way they could talk this through.

Alas, love potions. They make every story twist dramatically.

Seeing that she wouldn't attempt to talk this through with him, Jude had no other choice than to attack with...an attempt to kiss.

The agent's approached the love of his life which led to a catastrophe of immense proportions in the form of a knee in his manhood.

​

​

Bullseye. ​

​

All alarms blared within him and like a cat accidentally stepping on a hot stove, the agent jumped out of their loving embrace completely subdued by the pain.

"By the Force..." He barely uttered before he turned his head once again towards the fire woman. An illogical grin on his face. "I know you really want to safekeept that only for yourself but that's not the way."

Love potions. They make every story twist dramatically.

​

 

[Zmej Ren]

​

Allies: [member="Halle Ren"] | FO
Enemies: | GA
Directly Engaging:
Equipment: Battle armour, M1-VX Grenade, Lightsaber

​

Firmly separated from the galaxy, Zmej Ren’s consciousness wallowed through darkness and murky pits of dreamless sleep. Neither peaceful nor nightmarish, a world without worry or pain, the depths of oblivion proved merciful, temporarily sparing Zmej the agony that patiently awaited her return among the living. Even this short-lived reprieve could not last forever though; eternal slumber was reserved for the dead and the Ren’s body fought like a lion to stay away from funeral pyres and silent cemeteries. No conscious effort hurried her back into the fray happening in Vader’s castle – golden hued eyes slowly opened without ever being asked to do so, unable to grasp the strange sight at first. Blurred vision aside, the surroundings were completely alien. Metal walls, rubble, fire and smoke. Something was on her face, restricting her view, which she soon identified as the helmet of her battle armour.

Mustafar. How long has it been since she passed out? Was the battle over yet? The young knight’s next thoughts belonged to the enemy, no longer towering over her. A considerable gap in her memory acted like a block that denied full comprehension of the outcome.

Gasps for air, coughs, feeling every single injury rushing back to remind her of its existence, the awakening was not a pleasant one. Body sore, numb, in dire need of a doctor. Mouth wished to cry for help, but couldn’t muster enough strength to open and demand attention. Getting up appeared even more impossible, every attempt eliciting little to no response, thus the woman’s senses reached out, for the Force knew no shackles. The light side signatures existed still and stung the dark inclined knight like cold needles. Zmej didn’t want them to find her, capture her, terrorized by the idea. Even though confident no method of torture could crush her spirit and plant seeds of treachery in her heart, there existed more ways to unlock someone’s mind. Powerful techniques capable of bending another being’s will. Controversial among the Jedi, sure, but the Galactic Alliance hardly cared about that given every single opponent she had faced on Mustafar masterfully utilized the dark side of the Force.

Becoming a mindless husk that involuntarily shares all information with the captors was fate worse than death, one she knew had to be avoided by any means necessary.

The only alternative was suicide, and thus the last gas grenade she originally wanted to stop the Jedi forces became a tool to release her into the ether. Grunts, muffled moans and incomprehensible curses rolled off her tongue when the left arm did not go for the grenade. A motionless, limp piece of meat that refused to act like her arm any longer, disobeying even the simplest of commands. The entire limb burned and one exhausting glance around revealed a fresh red paint pooling from the grisly gash of muscle and shattered bone that used to be her shoulder. With the agility of a paralysed cripple, Zmej’s right hand slowly clawed its way over the ground. Every push forth was a battle, fighting against the stun gun’s effects on her nervous system. Ribs shifted slightly when the arm dragged itself over her chest, causing torturous sensations run amok. Bathed in cold sweat and crying like a little girl, Zmej counted down each second that remained until death.

After finally reaching its destination, her hand eagerly seized the feared gas grenade, gauntleted fingers clumsily removing the small, yet lethal object from the belt. Another problem arose – undoing the safety pin. Unable to control her fingers properly, Zmej Ren soon realized the futility of her task. With one hand completely out of order, there was no way to set the grenade off. Frustration replaced all other feelings – after readying herself to claim her own life, prepared to die for the Supreme Leader, she did not even get the chance to go through with it. Angrily seizing the grenade, her gauntleted hand bashed it against the floor, hoping for some miraculous intervention of higher powers to crack the shell and unleash its deadly load.

Tap tap tap.

 

[Progflaw99]

​

--- --- ---​

Location: Mustafar, Mensix Mining Facility​

Allies: First Order & Allies​

Enemies: Galactic Alliance & Allies​

[member="HK-36"] | [member="Ultimatum"] | [member="Draco Vereen"]​

​

In Vicinity:​

[member="Torian Pierce"] | [member="Irajah Ven"] | [member="Pharazon Draken"]​

[member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Rexus Wenck"]​

--- --- ---​

​

The scene faded before the Major's mind, darkness consuming him for a moment - and then he was somewhere else. He could feel the durasteel below his boots, the tension in the air. It felt as if he were in a coffin at first, and then he inhaled slowly. He wasn't in a coffin, no - rather the tight necked dress uniform. A parade deck, other soldiers around him in formation, all at attention. A booming voice called out over the assembled soldiers of the Stormtrooper Corps.

"Today, you who are gathered here will be joining the ranks of the Officer Corps. You will lead men into battle, you will watch them fight and die, but your resolve must stay strong. I congratulate you all. As you receive your assignments, remember your pledge to the First Order, remember the accomplishment you feel here today. Again I congratulate you, you are dismissed!"​

​

The resounding of other voices, issuing commands and the almost instinctual response of the formed soldiers punctuated the air. On command they marched and moved, the scene fading once more. Again Rolf sat alone, surrounded by those spectral silhouettes under the bright glare of a single light, source unknown. He felt a draft as there was a movement behind him but he found his gaze struck forward, unable to turn. A voice again, this time softer, feminine.

"I wonder what he would think if he could see the future, what he's left behind - what he'd leave?"​

​

Another voice, definitively masculine responded.​

​

"What he thinks of the matter is irrelevant, you know this. It is not our purpose."​

​

Again the feminine voice.​

​

"But it is relevant, the majority have made their decision - and it's only fair"​

​

The second voice cut in.​

​

"It is not our place to change the course for them."​

​

Fading once again into the abyss, Rolf's mind fell to quiet. His broken body yet lay in the corridor, arm outstretched. Blood glistened against the stark white gloss of the Major's armor, soaking into the joints of his bodyglove. Scorch marks and destroyed deck plating littered the corridor amidst the collection of bodies and discarded blasters. The slaughter was complete, and as sparks showered from exposed conduits there was a brief static whine from Rolf's helmet. Had it been worn, the HUD would have indicated a response to the distress signal that had been activated - whether he knew it or not, help was on the way.​

​

Spoiler

Rolf Amsel's Equipment:

Armor: FO-02 Stormtrooper Armor

Weapons:

• 1 x F-11 D Blaster Rifle (Thigh Holster)
• 1 x X-11E Sonic Rifle (Slung)
• 1 x DEMP 2 Ion Blaster Carbine (Dropped in hall)

Grenades:

• 3 x Ion Grenades (1 Expended)
• 2 x Cryoban Grenades (1 Expended)
• 2 x Thermal Detonators

Misc Equipment:

• 4 x Thorium Charges

 

[Progflaw99]

​

--- --- ---​

Location: Mustafar, Vader's Castle​

Allies: First Order & Allies​

Enemies: Galactic Alliance & Allies​

​

Engaging: [member="Jamie Pyne"]​

​

In Vicinity:​

[member="Samka Derith"] | [member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Ara Ren"]​

[member="Kaalia Voldaren"] | [member="Zmej Ren"] | [member="Abraxas"]​

[member="Connor Harrison"]​

[ Theme ]​

--- --- ---​

​

As he had begun to step towards the shattered hole, the girl's voice and gesture stopped him mid step. Castor narrowed his eyes, meeting the woman's as he breathed inwards. The Jedi spoke of home. *Home.* His home was the Bastion of Ren, though he knew that was not the home she was speaking of. He knew precious little of Naboo, their history something Castor had never truly deemed relevant despite it being Palpatine's home world. *Her bag.* Deceit, something the Jedi had become good at over the centuries, masking their lies as truth, an absolute truth - things were not so black and white for the Knight of Ren. As he attempted to gauge the girl's motives he could sense no malice, or at the very least no intent to harm, though he knew the thoughts would linger there.

With a short sigh and a low grunt, he moved swiftly, gently lowering himself till he could snag the strap. Taking a cursory glance at the bag, he saw nothing that brought him alarm and with a gently toss he swung the bag up towards Jamie's lap. Grimacing himself as his left arm tensed, he turned once more to the jagged hole in the window, ducking through in a moment. The girl had much to learn, much to experience before she would understand, and perhaps she never would - but as she spoke of the Sith his eyes turned dark again. Carefully making his way down into the cooled channel he'd approached the castle from he stopped for a moment, looking to the girl as he spoke. *A pureblood Sith.* Castor mulled that in his mind. He'd heard rumors but this girl would seem to confirm it.

"Girl." He said firmly, eyes tracing across the landscape, a silent decision made. "You must recognize that had I been a Sith I would have killed you without a second thought?"​

​

He likely still could, though to do so would have been not only a death sentence from his foes but likely Sieger himself. Pragmatism was one of the Supreme Leader's most lauded traits, no expenditure to be wasted - and likewise life. Life was yet precious to the man, though his absolute decisiveness on the matters pertaining to it could be found cruel Castor supposed. Though the girl wished for her home of Naboo, the Knight knew that was unlikely to happen - at least yet. Though masters of interrogation they may have been, Castor understood the implication were he to apply pressure where it wasn't warranted. Though the girl did her best to put up a front of indignation and resolve he could feel the doubt emanating from her. Perhaps it was her weakened physical state, perhaps simply the fact that the two were in such close proximity, but he knew what fear felt like.

"What pray tell, has stayed my hand - since you know so much about the Sith?" he said mockingly.​

​

He knew her words were meant to rile him, though to what end he couldn't guess. Instead he chose to remain indifferent. The rage that had been so blatant within the man now once more hidden beneath a shroud of tranquility, though his eyes spoke otherwise. Using the Force to propel his movement across the uneven terrain, Castor reached out with the Force, breaching the shroud which he'd cast about the pair - he needed to find a way out, a way past the Jedi and Galactic Alliance forces who now assailed the others. To join them now would be folly. A frustrated growl escaping his lips he set off again, the rough ground jarring the girl in his hands as he avoided large holes and gaps in the cooled magma. He had yet to locate a vessel, his own having long since departed - but an idea began forming in his mind.

Spoiler

Castor Ren's Equipment

Armor: Armour of Ren

Weapons:

• Krigsgaldr - The Ashen Blade (Sheathed)
• C-51 Charric Pistol (Holster, small of back)
• EE-3 Carbine Rifle (Resting on ground)
• "Daylight" (Ignited)

Explosives: (In Pack/Attached)

• Flex-5 Detonite Tape (2 Rolls)
• 2 x Glop Grenades
• 1 x Cryoban Grenade

​

​

 

[Aela Talith]

Location: Roof of Vader's Castle
Objective:Contact Allies
Allies: [member="Jamie Pyne"]
Enemies: [member="Mishel Ren"](Closest) | [member="Castor Ren"] | FO

What the hell? Was the only thing Aela could say to herself as the girl ran past her with a seeming host of droids. Almost immediately she activated her lightsaber, batting away half a dozen lightsaber bolts as the ancient droids fired at her, half lingering by the Jedi Master and the other half chasing behind the girl. The tromp of their feet echoed away from her as she sliced through those that had stayed behind, her blades cutting through the different automatons until they were nothing but a heap of scrap.

She let out a curse as the last of them fell, the ancient lightsaber in her left hand cutting through the droids skull.

For a moment the Jedi Master frowned, glancing towards the exit to the roof before looking back towards the other end of the structure. She wasn't entirely sure where the girl had gone, nor was she sure who she was. Her lips thinned for a moment, another glance offered towards the exit of the rooftop before she slowly shook her head. Whoever that girl had been she hadn't been Alliance, and even though she'd...well not exactly saved Aela but distracted some of the droids she couldn't just let her be.

Slowly the Marshall followed in the path of the other woman.

She heard the tromp of more droids, a thump, then something else in the distance.

Aela continued, her eyes flickering forward before she slowly moved around the corner of the odd spire. The bracelet around her wrist seemed to vibrate as she did so, a small gasp passing Aela's lips as she sensed Jamie's plight. The emotional spike that carved through her, the pain. The Jedi Master Scowled, looking back towards the exit before finally tossing the corner. "Hang in there."

She whispered, knowing her padawan wouldn't hear.

The Marshall passed around the corner of the Spire, her eyes flicking forward towards another heap of droids before it slowly passed along the edge of the roof. There she spotted something, fluttering atop one of the spires, hanging from what appeared to be some sort of tether. She frowned for a moment, recognizing the shapes upon the flag as part of the First Order regalia. For a moment Aela did nothing, instead her eyes drifted over the space around her. She looked for the girl, trying to find her, spot her. Senses rang out, the force pushing through the haze of death and war happening all around Mustafar. When she found nothing but suffering her eyes snapped open.

She looked up at the Flag, then slowly frowned. Her fingers reached out from beyond the hilt of her lightsaber, the force flowing through her as she gripped the piece of Fabric and tore it free, rending it from it's tether and sending it spiraling into the heated winds of Mustafar.

For a moment she watched the flag flutter away, then turned.

"Alright." Aela said as she turned. "I'm coming, Jamie."

Though of course, she was already too late.

 

[Jamie Pyne]

​

Location: Mustafar, Vader's Castle​

Allies: Galactic Alliance​

Enemies: First Order​

Directly Engaging: [member="Castor Ren"]​

​

The walking was unpleasant. It seemed with almost every step Castor made her side reminded her of her injury. Slowly he would begin to feel the warmth of her back as the blood seeped through her clothing and into his, as well as down his arms and hands. A feeling of lightheadedness began to creep over her, feeling a slow spinning motion around herself, as if she'd been on a saucer spinner ride for a few turns too many. Some bumps were rougher than others, drawing out a short gasp, or a groan, or a whimper. The arm around the man's neck tightened somewhat involuntarily, as if it were to help reduce the amount of compression or pressure her stomach felt. He had been kind enough, at the very least, to collect her belongings for her. At least there was that. While meaningless to most anyone else, the bag did carry with it a few items that she'd rather not lose. A small personal datapad, some photographs, both as part of her research as well as cute couples pictures of herself and Kurt that she took with her just about anywhere she went, and the camera of course, a rather expensive prototype that she had picked up.

Jamie drew her head back just far enough so that she could see Castor's face more clearly, and notably, his eyes. Because he didn't kill her yet he was therefore absolved of being Sith? A strange verdict to draw. Sith employed a variety of methodologies that one could argue were far worse than death itself. Torture, for one, was something the blonde had endured, brief as it were. Whether or not that was on the horizon here she had yet to determine. Based solely on the actions of the man thus far, it was hardly out of the question. He'd already in a way done so, having taken a fist full of her hair and relieving her of it without a second of hesitation. Was he really above putting her to the test to see just how much pain she could endure before she broke irreparably?

"The Sith that sought revenge against me did not kill me, but instead kidnapped and tortured me under the guise of teaching me about the Sith."​

The irony behind the story was that Castor was in the midst of doing exactly that to her. "Is this, here, now, somehow dissimilar?"​

Most Sith, both historically and modern day would likely have killed her, true enough, but the fact of the matter was that one didn't. And she had experience with that one man that Castor's action now ghostly mirrored in ways she hadn't considered until he had spoken those exact words just then. If that was in fact his plan she would rather he kill her then and there, leave her body on the surface of Mustafar and be done with it. Though the further they got from the castle the quieter the planet became, leaving little in terms of noise, save for their words and an occasional howl of the wind blowing past.

"What has stayed your hand?" The dizziness hit her hard in that moment, the girl's eyes closed part way, finding her balance in Castor's arms. "Perhaps you intend to ransom me. Perhaps you intend to deliver me to this Sieger Ren in hopes of recognition or reward. Perhaps you do intend to torture me for whatever it is you think I might have. What I do know is that it's not out of the kindness of your heart."​

​

Jamie let her eyes shut for a few moments, the feeling of everything spinning slowly overwhelming her. It was consciousness that she was losing, from the sustained loss of blood over time. Though the faster the man moved away from the castle, seemingly in search of his ship, or a ship for that matter, began to increasingly pain her already fragile consciousness. Her eyes now firmly closed, grimacing in stark pain with every bound forward, nausea beginning to take its' hold as well.

"Where are you taking me?" She asked quietly, her voice barely a whisper.​

 

[Vexen]

https://gfycat.com/WholeLeanEmperorpenguin​

Atravis Sector | Rutan System | SIS security heightened

Trackers: [member="Micah Talith"] @Vexen
SIS Agents: [member="Kellyn Muir"] [member="Allyson Locke"]
Here for the drama: [member="Kaili Talith"]
Enemies: | [member="FN-888"] [member="FN-4077"]

---

There were a number of distraction Vexen had to try and tune out. First of all another few disruptor shots screeched through the air to strike the fallen tree, eviscerating whole section of it. Whilst the Defel had found herself in several combat zones she was still a skittish creature. A childhood of feeding off scraps and knowing that if anyone got a good look at you they'd likely attack was the cause rather an anything genetic.

Above her waves of iridescent colours went back and forth across the sky as the First Order fleet probed the world shield. It was late in the day for these scouts to get reinforcements now. Tentatively she moved towards the screams, keeping low and out of the line of sight of the trooper that was still firing. Trusting Micah now came as naturally as not trusting a stranger.

The Force urged caution as she approached. She'd never seen a soldier make such a ruckus before. At least not a stormtrooper. Perhaps this one simply hadn't the same conditioning as most in the ranks of the First Order.

“Stay still,” she hissed as she caught sight of the writhing scout. “We can get you help.” She was an honest soul. On Kaeshana they'd found [member="Irajah Ven"] thrown from the remains of her downed shuttle and has taken her to receive attention. Vexen had every intention of doing the same if required here. Still, her fingers remained clasped around her dart gun, even if it was by her side.

 

[Pharazon Draken]

[SIZE=11pt]Location: Mustafar, Ashflats in Vicinity of Frontrunner Crash Site[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Sub-Location: (In Vicinity of, but not present at): Mensix Mining Facility[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Allies in Scene: First Order & Allies, [member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Irajah Ven"] | [member="Rexus Wenck"][/SIZE]

• [SIZE=11pt]Allies In Vicinity: [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Torian Pierce"] | [member="Commander Lusk"] | [member="BE-183"] | @Heidi @Ziegler | [member="AR-3752"][/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Enemies in Scene: Galactic Alliance & Allies | [member="Choli Vyn"] | [member="Elliot Locke"] | [member="Asmus Janes"][/SIZE]

• [SIZE=11pt]Enemies in Vicinity: [member="HK-36"] | [member="Ultimatum"] | [member="Draco Vereen"][/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Objective: [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]Revelation[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Personal Equipment: [/SIZE]FO-02 Stormtrooper Armor, F-11D Blaster Rifle, Bayonet, Combat Knife, SE-44C blaster pistol, x4 Thermal Detonators, x1 M1-VX "Vee Ex" Grenade, x3 M1-NR "Nerve" Autoinjectors.

[SIZE=11pt]Unit Equipment: [/SIZE](for general reference and flavour purposes only): FO-02 Stormtrooper Armor | F-11D Blaster Rifles | FWMB-10 Repeating Blasters (select troopers) | T-7 ion Disruptor Rifles (select troopers) | Bayonets | Combat Knives | Thermal Detonators | Standard Concussion Grenades | x1 FI-H8b: Hussar Command Speeder | x8 FI-C9v: Cuirassier Assault Repulsortanks
[SIZE=11pt]Post: 12[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The savagery and cold brutality of the confrontation of Imperial and Alliance forces did not let up for a second as Pharazon supervised the the quick but careful loading of Doctor [member="Irajah Ven"] into the command speeder. The glow of the molten rock was almost consumed and replaced by the inexorably flashes of blasters, laser cannons, ion cannons, and all other pieces of the menagerie of fiery death being spat back and forth from the Stormtroopers and their repulsortanks against the Alliance ground troops, gunships and shuttles, and air support. Stormtroopers were mercilessly cut down by defiant fire from Alliance gunship crews, steadfastly providing cover for their own troopers and their fallen comrades who had survived the crashes of several U-Wings and gunships that had been shot down by Imperial fire. Pharazon took carefully shots from his position just behind the main line of tanks and Stormtroopers at the Alliance ground defenders and any gunship that strayed too close to the Imperial advance. Slowly, inexorably, the Imperials moved forward, refusing to allow the sacrifices of the broken white armoured bodies they left behind in their wake go to waste.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Satisfied that his troopers had done all they could to ensure the Doctor’s comfort and continued medical stability, the best that they could do in a command speeder, Pharazon barked orders to dispatch the men back to the firing line. Receiving reports loud over his helmet speakers that the U-Wing that had affixed his notice and so disturbed him had gone down and that other First Order forces were moving against the crash site, Pharazon found the excuse a dark part of his mind had been looking for to not pursue his suspicions to their uncomfortable conclusions.Closing the short ashy distance between himself and the access entrance to the command speeder, Pharazon could not escape the dark conclusions, seemingly predestined for him. He felt it [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]again, an instant, nearly slow motion moment of total clarity and awareness. His mind went cold before the unnatural feeling spread down throughout his body. He could [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]feel [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]something, something horrifically dangerous surging toward him from the front, he could almost [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]see [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]it. [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]An anti-tank round… [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]the words formed almost disbelievingly in his head. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The moment passed. His mind, still almost unnaturally clear, shifted back to regular perception, the sounds of battle coming through as if distant and muffled.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Another moment.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Then suddenly an indescribable burning tore through his right shin, exploding his leg out from under him. Pharazon collapsed face forward, a scream of horrific pain frozen in his throat, body seizing up, air forced from him. Another moment passed, he looked down and saw the bloody remnants of his right leg. Then the scream came. Tortured and anguished, Pharazon could not even think, his entire mind and body consumed by molten pain. [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]Vaguely[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt], Pharazon heard over his communicator [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]“the Captain is down!”[/SIZE] [SIZE=11pt]“...get him in the fething command speeder now!”[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]. He felt rather than saw or [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]perceived[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] his body being quickly and roughly manhandled into the speeder, pain still dominating his being. A part of his mind, almost unconsciously, remembered Doctor Ven’s instructions to prevent her from sleeping. That remnant of consciousness supposed that his screams would at least assist in that task. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“I’ve got you Draken…” Came a familiar voice. Dagon… [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]the thought flowed through his mind on the tide of anguish.[/SIZE]

“Doctor Ven, I will not allow you or the Captain to die this day, so open your blasted eyes and focus on me, walk me through the procedure for combat trauma leg amputation and bleeding reduction”[SIZE=11pt] Second Lieutenant Henry Dagon barked at the dubiously conscious Doctor Ven, physically [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]opening[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] her eyes and staring directly into them as he spoke loudly to her. He know exactly what he needed to do to address the Captain’s leg wound, but he needed to keep her mind occupied.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]He had been one of the Stormtroopers who had brought Pharazon into the command speeder, and was the medical officer of the 189th. He would not allow his friend to die either. So he set about his bloody and cramped work, constantly asking Doctor Ven the next step, or things that must be considered with wounds of this type.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Pharazon’s mind went in and out of consciousness rapidly. Again, however, as on Kaeshana the voice of his sister pierced his mind, it said his name distantly, “Pharazon…” mental anguish melded with physical pain. Pharazon was consumed by an inconsolable internal grief as he fought to maintain awareness. He knew [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]he had failed Elenthyia, but he did not know [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]why[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]. Suddenly, the pain vanished, at least for his internal awareness, Pharazon could feel his body still writhing in pain, cries still burst from his lips. But his awareness now became aware of other feelings, concentration, grim determination, and fear seemed to be pulsating off Dagon in waves, washing over Pharazon. Pain, anger, hate, fear, grief, external emotions seemingly buffeted him from all sides, he could feel their source from various Stormtroopers, each distinct in a way Pharazon could not describe. The waves picked up in intensity, then vanished, all occurring within a fraction of an instinct. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Then nothingness consumed Pharazon, his eyes fell closed, his body limp, shock took him. The instant before loosing consciousness, however,.a final nova of pure clarity burst forth into Pharazon's mind. A message, a prophesy [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]conceived[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] by a power Pharazon could not attempt to comprehend in his present state, [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]emanating[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] from a perfect blazing form he knew to be himself, it boomed in his own voice, deep and resonant, more powerful than he had ever heard himself before. [/SIZE]

"Return to Hapes. Take what is yours. Ascend."

 

[Briika Munin]

​

Location: Mustafar; Combat Zone - Mensix Mining Facility​

Objective: Lotus Guard/Medical Aid​

Allies: Aka'liit/Order of the Sacred Lotus​

Enemies: No one, neutral third party.​

Gear in bio​

Aiding Wounded Soldier: [member="Rolf Amsel"]​

---​

​

The medevac ship rocked hard, then took a sharp turn to port to miss a ground to air missile of some sort as they approached the Mensix Mining Facility. Thank the Manda for the magnetic boots Briika Tor had on that adhered to the durasteel decking otherwise the petite Mando might have been tossed out of the open cargo bay doors of the modified for medical purposes S90MAAT dropship into the fiery lava river below.

"Sorry about that, ma'am... Even though we are flying the neutral blue colors, they are shooting at us! I think they are combat drunk down there," the pilot grumbled apologetically over the ship comms as he then juked the controls once again to miss being hit. A litany of swear words were heard before the frustrated young man finally turned off his mic in the cockpit.

[Just get me and my team down to ground, LT, then come back when I call for pickup.] the seasoned battle medic instructed through her helmet comlink. The Baar'ur was dressed in her full silver beskar'gam from head to toe with a black armorweave kute underneath and kama that protected her backside when helping those wounded on the battlefield. She was ready, willing and able to enter the combat zone twas why Bree had separated from the others who had come to Mustafar including her husband, [member="Vilaz Munin"], when they went to the capital city to help the civilians.

Because of being part of the Lotus Guard, which was considered a neutral third party here, Briika's only weapon on her person was the Ripper holstered off her right thigh, and that was only to be used for personal defense should she come under attack. The blue band on her right arm was supposed to guarantee her safety while tending to the wounded of both factions, but one never new in the heat of battle.

As the medevac dropped down closer to the mining facility, it appeared that most of the landing pads had been destroyed or were ready to crumble down into the lava pools. There was though a jutting section of one that was still intact that led into the battle wear building from all the intense fighting. The dropship wasn't able to land though got close enough that Briika jumped out using her jet pack to soften the landing with her MMC-issued medpac secure around her slender waist. An explosion shook the jetty pretty hard just as her booted feet hit the duracrete sending her gauntleted hand reaching for the railing to stabilize herself. She quickly regained her step, then made their way carefully to the entrance so as not to fall into the flow of magna underneath. The others would follow as they could and minister aid as deemed necessary.

Just inside there were bodies of soldiers from each faction strewn about in various states of debilitation with pools of blood covering the floor like a wet carpet. Briika started triaging the wounded. The medic had long run out of specialized tags giving each of the injured a status, which indicated the care they received being their resources were limited in the field. She now would use her gloved finger in their own blood to mark either their helmet or chest plate with a symbol. Most she'd come across so far given the Black designation - dead or impending death. Some were Yellow - non-life threatening injuries, and miraculously a couple of Green's - walking wounded basically where one would just slap a bacta patch on them, hit them with a stim shot and send them off.

Briika crept further into the building keeping her right hand near the grip of her slugthrower just in case out of habit, going down a corridor about twenty to thirty meters inside to where there was a junction, that is where she found another stormtrooper from the First Order. The medic knelt down and ran her med scanner over him as he was still in his suit of white armor, though one could hardly tell that from all the grime and blood sticking to it. He was alive, but barely - penetrating chest trauma, internal bleeding, concussion; a Red. With the stormtrooper's helmet already off, Bree was able to access his ABC's more easily than if it was on. His skin was so pale, cold, and clammy as he slipped closer to death. The man was unconscious but breathing, though his airway would need to be protected and respiratory status aided soon.

[Oh no you don't, ner vod...You're not dying on my watch.] she exclaimed in a determined mechanized voice as the Mando medic began treating the man's life threatening injures aggressively to stabilize him enough for transport back to the field hospital.

[Medevac Two-Niner, this is Baar'ur One... I have one critical. Need immediate dust off and request surgical on call for hot inbound arrival. Over.]

 

[Jacen Voidstalker]

Tap tap tap.

The middle-aged Voidstalker had just turned away from the entrance to the catacombs when he heard the noise. It wasn't just his hearing that drew his attention. The sensation of urgency when he considered the path ahead was starting to fade.

"Too late once again," he mumbled as he came to a halt. Jacen turned back for the entrance. Still, of [member="Connor Harrison"] came back this way the Marshall who called Heavenshield a close ally would have - at the very least - some words for the traitor.

As he rounded the corner the Marshal saw one of the most disheartening sights he'd ever seen. And on Kaeshana he had carried his maimed son in his arms away from the fight with just a sliver of hope he would survive.

The grenade Zmej was smacking against the ground skidded away and flew past Jacen's feet. The Jedi didn't reach for his saber. His expression wasnt pitying, there was almost no emotion on display as he looked down. He could sense such a young, troubled soul inside that armor.

"Why are you doing that?" He asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

 

[Progflaw99]

​

--- --- ---​

Location: Mustafar, Vader's Castle​

Allies: First Order & Allies​

Enemies: Galactic Alliance & Allies​

​

Engaging: [member="Jamie Pyne"]​

​

In Vicinity:​

[member="Samka Derith"] | [member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Ara Ren"]​

[member="Kaalia Voldaren"] | [member="Zmej Ren"] | [member="Abraxas"]​

[member="Connor Harrison"]​

[ Theme ]​

--- --- ---​

He struggled, the pain in his arm growing again as his feet carried both the woman and himself across the jagged rocks of Mustafar. Without his rebreather the ash laden air was thick, the gusts of wind heated. Across his brow, perspiration mixed with blood stung the man's eyes. As the woman spoke it was as if a clarity had been granted, the fog of the violent encounter lifting - even if for but a moment. The two had conversed at length before they'd descended to blows but now that they both struggled with their injuries and the moment had passed, a nagging sensation bothered the Ren. They found themselves ideologically on different ends of the spectrum, even if they both did strive towards similar goals. It troubled him, though it was unsurprising that the Sith used similar methods. The Sith would likely claim the Ren used Sith methods but that was besides the point. Castor could see the thought process the girl followed, one he'd have to break her mind of. If the girl's story were true - and he had no trouble believing it - the motives for her accusations became clear. He spoke, a strangely calm tone filling his voice.

"If it is torture that you fear - you need not fear it from me, if it would ease your worry to know it."​

​

He could feel the girl's grip had tightened around his neck for a time, but so too had he felt it slacken as he continued to traverse across the molten surface of the planet. Down here, magma flows lazily wound through the crags of the crust - the heat warm enough to feel through the soles of his boots. He could feel the nerves in his left arm finally giving way and as his grip faltered he nearly tripped - barely managing to catch the girl before dropping her. With a grunt, and a short knee, he set the girl down as gently as he could manage. Taking a deep breath he massaged his left arm with the fingers of his right hand, trying to bring feeling back into his arm to no avail. The saber had done its damage and he was unable to stave off its effects any longer - his arm was near useless. With a resigned snarl he sat across from the girl, letting his arm hang loosely into his lap, the blade at his side gently brought up across his lap. Resting his back against a particularly jutting spar of cooled black rock, he sighed.

"You need to stay awake." He said, ignoring the girl's question at first. Closing his eyes for several seconds he slowed his breathing, gathering strength within himself once more. Staring across at the girl for a moment before responding, he slung his bag to the side, stirring around the contents for a moment. A small metal flask appeared from a hidden pocket, quickly removed. With a short twist of the cap, Castor raised it towards his lips but hesitated, resting it on his thigh. "I am taking you away from here. Your words aren't far from truth, though the context I suspect is clouded. You will see." Tucking a leg beneath himself, he shifted slightly offering the flask to the girl. It's contents smelled bitter, but not alkaline. Contrary to its purpose, liquor it did not contain, rather a mixture of herbs and plants, liquefied. ​

​

"Drink. It will help with the pain, and the bleeding."​

​

Crafted at the Bastion, a mixture of herbs and various toxins the drink would do little to heal the most severe of wounds but it would grant the Jedi a modicum of relief and perhaps an increase in awareness. No doubt due to the alchemy involved there would be side effects unknown - though perhaps not. Castor knew little of alchemy himself but he was learning, slowly. A master of the blade, not of the pestle and mortar. After offering it to the girl, he too would sip of its contents, the bitter taste leaving a chalk in the mouth, certainly not enjoyable given his already dehydrated state - but it would serve its intended purpose. As he watched the girl with his eyes, his mind drifted elsewhere, up high into the sky, above the thick ashen clouds - a shuttle there. small, slightly damaged, but it was there. With a clenched jaw he focused his attention solely on the pilot, encouraging him to descend, then more forcefully, coercing his mind to Castor's bidding. It wasn't exactly against the rules, though likely not something Sieger would look down upon kindly - but he was also a pragmatist. Above, the soft scream of engines could be heard as the shuttle redirected course towards the pair.

Spoiler

Castor Ren's Equipment

Armor: Armour of Ren

Weapons:

• Krigsgaldr - The Ashen Blade (Sheathed)
• C-51 Charric Pistol (Holster, small of back)
• EE-3 Carbine Rifle (Slung)
• "Daylight" (In utility belt)

Explosives: (In Pack/Attached)

• Flex-5 Detonite Tape (2 Rolls)
• 2 x Glop Grenades
• 1 x Cryoban Grenade

 

[H3xle]

​

Location: Mustafar, Darth Vader's Castle
Objective: Hunt and kill some Sith wannabe's
Allies: [member="elpsis elaris"], [member="taeli raaf"], [member="jacen voidstalker"], GA
Enemies: [member="ara ren"], [member="samka derith"], FO
Engaging: [member="connor harrison"]

Taryc stood as the Rens began to back off and pull down the ceiling. Cracks appeared above them, and it seemed as if they were trying to do more than just hit them with debris. With two quick movements, her sword was sheathed and her bolter was out.

"Master Raaf, Elpsis, out now!" She ordered, pulled the bolter up to her shoulder and beginning to fire the deadly explosive rounds at Connor and Ara as they focused their energies on pulled the roof in. These were the same rounds that she'd had earlier, explosive rounds that detonated on contact with anything, including shields and force powers meant to deflect them. They had a nasty casualty radius, and the firing rate was nothing to laugh at as each pull of Taryc's finger sent another bolt down range at the two Rens.

As she fired, she would move with her group towards the exit, assuming they desired to get out from under the collapse in the safety of the tunnel.

 

[Kuzo]

Location: Ashflats near the crash of the Frontrunner
Allies in scene: [member="Pharazon Draken"] [member="Natasi Fortan"] [member="Rexus Wenck"]
Enemies nearby: Choli Vyn Elliot Locke Asmus Janes

Quiet and dark seemed like such a luxury in that moment. Everything was hazy and distant. The sounds of the explosions outside of the speeder. The yelling, the echoes over the comms. The feeling of the too large armor she was wearing.

Irajah blinked as a sharp voice intruded on that. She hadn't realized she'd closed her eyes at all. Had it been moments ago? Minutes?

It took her a moment to reorient. Though the inside of the speeder was brightly lit, she squinted, pupils blown far wider than they ought to be.

"Procedure.... for.... combat..... what happened?"

She turned her head slowly, looking over at Pharazon.

"Damn it Captain, you said you'd..... stay in the command speeder...... with me...."

Closing her eyes again for a moment, she shook her head suddenly.

That was a mistake. Pain blossomed and nausea roiled in her gut.

"Focus Raj," she muttered. "You need.... to tie it off, tourniquet. In my bag..... did it make it in here? In my bag, there is a syringe labeled with. Um. In red. Clotting enhancer...."

She walked through, step by step, with Dagon. The fact that he didn't need her was irrelevant. If he hadn't known, she would have been able to walk him through it. Instead though, he did exactly what was needed for both of them. She would recognize that better later. But for now, all she could do was focus on the process. Speaking when he prompted her, occasionally responding with a little bit of terseness when all she wanted to do was sleep.

"The blue and white syringe.... that one.... he's.... going into shock."

He was a step ahead of her, carefully injecting Pharazon with the drug to stabilize his heartrate and keep his blood pressure from bottoming out. It would also keep him unconscious until they reached safety- a blessing, truly.

"Get his... helmet off..... so he doesn't vomit and.... aspirate."

"You think he'll vomit?"

"Probably not.... But. ....Do it anyway."

She leaned heavily on the curve of the inner hull as Dagon complied. Click, snap. Looking down at his face for the first time, she nodded, but otherwise said nothing.

"I'm going to need.... you..... to be okay, Captain. Listen to me damn it. You're going to wake up, and I'm going to get that leg fixed. Got it?"

Dagon watched the one sided conversation impassively for a moment before nodding to himself.

"You're.... gonna be..... okay....."

"Doc?"

"Hmmm?"

"So are you."

"I know. Just. Keep talking.... to me.... okay?"

"Sure thing Doc."


[exit, stage left]

 

[Kyrel Ren]

​

Location: Vader Castle​

Enemies: [member="Erinyes Draclau"] [member="Ty Rellius"] GA and Allies​

Directly engaging: [member="Aver Brand"]​

Allies: [member="Stardust Raxis"] [member="Cameron Centurion"] FO and Allies​

Gear: Life Support Armor, Lightsaber​

Objective: Secure the Castle and Kill the Jedi.​

​

Kyrel grinned in excitement underneath the mask as he gained upon his enemy. He had the armored foe now, and was ready to deliver the death blow as he hit the wall from his force push. He moved quickly towards him using a burst of speed so he wouldn't have time to react as he attempted his strike towards his torso. He thought to himself excitedly. 'I have you now fool.' He had been waiting for the fight to end, and now he hoped that it would go in his favor as nothing would stop him from killing the enemy that dared enter the room and even stop him from facing a Jedi Master. He was angered beyond reproach of facing his true enemy and hoped that giving the soldier that even dared to fire at him an excruciating death would satisfy him just the same.

As he was about to land the strike so many exhilarating thoughts were coursing through his head, at this moment the flag of the First Order should be planted, and within hours the planet would hopefully fall into the hands of the First Order as the Knights of Ren finally revealed their true strength against the Jedi, the Castle that once belonged to the Supreme Commander of the Galactic Empire would be in the hands of those that were worthy. It was the birth right of the Ren to claim what was rightfully there's soon every Jedi would fear the title of Ren as they once did centuries ago when the Knights massacred Luke Skywalker's Jedi Order. Kyrel thought of Imperial flags reigning across the galaxy once more, and all of it's inhabitants chanting the Supreme Leader praising him and the First Order as the saviors that would reinforce law and order and bring about a new age of peace in a lawless and chaotic galaxy, and for a moment in all his clarity the dark side granted him a slight glimpse as being one of those that would bring about that glorious era by being the enforcer that would show the enemies of the First Order that indeed Vader still lived after all, and they would fear such an image once more, and Kyrel took comfort in that.

Kyrel quickly snapped out of such amazing thoughts and visions as he landed the strike, but he did not expect for, the figure had enough time to react by grabbing his wrist and stopping the blade from connecting with any part of his body, Kyrel was momentarily stunned by this sudden action and even attempted with his free hand to grab him by the throat and choke the life out of him with his bare hands. He was than struck with a strike to his knee by a blade of some kind that despite the mix of Duraplast, Durasteel, and even Phrik was able to penetrate it, the strike sent sparks firing violently from the knee as the blade connected with Kyrel's mechanical limb. "AAAAAAAGGHH" Kyrel screamed angrily as he felt the blade cut into the armor.

His anger quickly rose to new heights as he now viewed this soldier as a mere nuisance, his lightsaber still activated, he attempted to cut the soldier's blade arm off, as he attempted to grab his head with his free arm and attempt to violently slam it through the obsidian wall. Kyrel growled ferociously through his vocabulater which made it sound sickening as he spoke with venom laced within the commanding baritone. "I will make you suffer an agonizing death for that."

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Location: Vader's Castle, Mustafar
Allies: [member="Taryc Ap'Irae"], [member="Taeli Raaf"]
Enemies: [member="Connor Harrison"], [member="Samka Derith"], [member="Ara Ren"]
Gear: Beskar armour (in sig) + ARGH jets, bolter, hard sound carbine, magnetic revolver, anti-forcer + forcebreaker grenades, lightsabre.

((Wrapping things up on my end after ooc discussion with Ara Ren's writer, who will be botting Samka))


Things happened in rapid succession. Elpsis felt a shot of the pain Taryc must have experienced when she fried the device at the cost of getting her hand melted. It was like the stab of a hot shard. Then two of the Ren began to pull down the ceiling. Elpsis felt a peculiar sense of deja vu. Cracks began to appear above. Taryc ordered her to go and Elpsis knew better than to argue.


In the greater scheme of things, this didn't really damage the GA. At least this was Elpsis' opinion. She was probably rather biased since she'd wanted to wreck the place anyway, for it was a monument to evil. It was the Ren who held this place in awe due to their pseudo-religious veneration of Vader. Despite this, they were quite eager to tear parts of it down. Maybe it was a case of denying the Jedi a place the darksiders considered sacred due to its association with their idol. This was not something Elpsis could determine.


Her sabre was replaced by her bolter and she quickly dashed towards the tunnel alongside her lover, breaking off her assault on Samka. Perhaps some day her path would cross once more with her on the battlefield. Squeezing the trigger, she fired one last salvoe of explosive bolts towards the two Ren playing ceiling dropper.


Elpsis was equipped with the older, more powerful version of the bolter. Much like with Taryc's, the explosive rounds detonated on contact with anything, including Force shields, lightsabres Force powers. It would be unclear to her if her warheads hit anything hostile, but she deflected debris coming hers and Taryc's way as they pulled out to the tunnel, wincing slightly when she saw the state of Taryc's hand. "You're hurt," she said in a tone that was both concerned and mildly scolding. In all fairness, Taryc had just done what needed to be done.

 

[Connor Harrison]

Location: Darth Vader's castle; the lower catacombs
Objectives: Secure the catacombs
Allies At Location: [member="Samka Derith"] | [member="Ara Ren"] | [member="Kaalia Voldaren"] | KoR/FO
Enemies At Location: [member="Taryc Ap'Irae"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"] | [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] | [member="Elpsis Elaris"] | GA
Gear:{In Sig} Ren Attire / Cloak

--

Connor shifted position, weight on his back leg as he held strong and pulled down the ceiling. Rock. Ash. Steady drips of magma from forks on the surface. Steel piping. It all came inwards to block off the cavern.

He heard little above the thunderous noise, but he felt the danger coming. And he saw an explosion impact a chunk of rock, spitting it out into all directions with sparks and fire. The shockwave hit, and Connor stumbled back, and dropped to his knee, tearing off his helmet which was burning his head with the heat of shrapnel.

Another explosive charge was buried in the debris but exploded with more flammable gas and fire.

Holding one arm out to shield himself with the Force, the fire and debris slammed against him from their wild shots, and it was as if the planet was imploding around him. With a roar that nobody could here, he pushed his all into protecting himself from the fire as the ceiling slowed it’s collapse now most was down.

As the fire ate itself up and the noise quietened, with only small chunks falling and bubbling away from the magma, Connor glanced up, yards back from where he had been, arms of his tunic shredded and his helmet steaming half buried in the soot.

He allowed himself to breathe. Just. Was he dead? He didn’t feel dead. He didn’t even want to look up to see where they were. Instead, he just glanced around finally to see Ara backed up into the cavern, surrounded by cracked crystals.

He forced a laugh.

"Well,” he wheezed, "that went better than I hoped.”

Collapsing back onto the gritty ground and let out a sigh. His lungs felt warm, his skin felt tingly and he didn't know where the pain was coming from. He also didn’t know when he would come back around after he blacked out.

-FIN-