Operation Morning Star [SJO vs. TSE]

[Thirdas Heavenshield]

Location: The Retribution > Fortress Moon of Concordia
Scene: Fortress Imperious
Allies: [member="Amon Vizsla"] | [member="Tulan Kor"] | [member="Rupert Kingswood"] | SJO & Rangers
Enemies: Sith

Assisting with strapping in the last of his team of, by now, semi-rookies, Sergeant Thirdas made one last pass at checking their gear, making sure stuff wouldn't come loose in the drop. A rogue canteen during a drop is fully capable of knocking a soldier out cold before the fighting even starts. It was something he'd learned from his father, to treat those serving under you as your own kids. These guys were all his juniors in terms of age, but only by a couple years or so. Experience in the field coupled with a level of professionalism the others had yet to reach made Sarge seem a lot older than he was to his rookies, however. To Thirdas, he was still that kid growing up on a remote world.

Stepping through the tight space of the dropship, up by the cockpit the CO of Dorn Company sat looking like someone deep in thoughts. "Cap," he offered a far less formal salute than he used to back when he'd just left boot camp. Unsure whether the man even registered his presence, Thirdas quietly took to strapping himself in in the seat next to Amon. Not wanting to disturb the man, and yet he figured it would help to snap his CO back into the present.

"Hey, take off already, will ya," he reached behind him to bang on the wall between them and the pilots, hoping the loud noise would stir the Captain. "Hold on to your butts, people," he addressed the rest of the dropship, shouting over the sound of roaring engines and rumbling metal. "It's gonna be a bumpy ride!" These things weren't built for comfort, after all.

"Captain," he then offered Amon a friendly stick of gum. "Once more unto the breach, sir."

 

[Funami Teriyaki]

Location: Concordia
Allies: TSE | [member="Lorale Farmar"] | [member="Kalt Bruq"] | [member="Valin Stryder"]
Enemies: SJO | [member="Vaulkhar"]
Equipment


The Jedi infestation had turned out worse than anticipated.

Like insects suddenly crawling out into the light after their nest had been disturbed, Jedi spearheaded the attack, with their Force-deaf followers in tow. More and more enemies of the Dark rained from the sky, ready to join the fight and sow justice. Not all had been lucky to touch Concordia’s soil. Others caught a concentrated volley of precise blaster fire right after opening. The Sith, too, rallied their forces, herding them to the slaughter.

And then there was Funami, a little girl whose terrible nature hid behind a flimsy façade of mild disinterest. A hand reached up to brush her pink bangs over her right eye, fixing the hairstyle after a gust of wind had tried to ruin it, though there was nothing to be done about the dancing pig-tails at the sides of her head. Passively watching the battle as if it were a low-budget Holoflick, the small child let the show go on without needlessly interfering with its flow.

Attacking the fortress world had been incredibly foolish of the Jedi. Boasting countless defenses and defenders ready to lay down their lives, it would prove to be an insatiable meat grinder. Whatever their bold strike intended to accomplish did not interest the Acolyte in the least. She only cared about making it costly for them, a festering would that would leave a scar, and with it, a dreaded memory.

But diving into the slaughter could wait. For now she had more pressing matters at hand.

With a big, heart-shaped lollipop in hand, the girl stuck her tongue out and almost lazily licked the sweet candy while countless combatants from both sides fought and died around her, falling down like discarded toys. The grisly sight about hardly spoiled Funami’s enjoyment of the rich strawberry flavor rolling over her tongue. In the midst of the dead and dying, her unarmored, short-statured body stood out like a sore thumb. Albeit feigning disinterest and wearing a smug grin on her face, Funami wasn’t oblivious to the battle’s proceedings. A glimmer of sadism twinkled beneath her violet eyes.

Thus far the curved lightsaber on her belt had remained silent. Igniting it had not been necessary, for her mind was the greatest weapon of all, capable of snuffing out inferior lives with a thought. Any foe to dare approach her swiftly fell under her mind’s strangling hands and joined the growing circle of fresh corpses around. A disapproving glower glanced at the mess they had made, wordlessly blaming them for ruining the scenery.

A ripple through the Force brushed against her sub-conscious thought and her attention perked up. Even the little Sithling’s grossly underdeveloped mind’s eye could feel it, a presence she had anticipated to encounter one day. Vaulkhar. The man who had betrayed the Sith, but worst of all, who had left her with the stigmatizing label of a traitor’s apprentice. Climbing atop the small mountain of bodies that had piled up before her, the little Sith peered over the battle.

The Emperor's Wrath was there.

And he’d pay for abandoning her.

 

[Asaraa Vaashe]

​

Location: Concordia - Outside Fortress Imperious​

Ally(s): [member="Yuroic Xeraic"]​

Enemy: [member="Darth Prazutis"]​

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Gear: Fate's Dance | Kervanos | Svalinn | Nephil & Seraph | Angel's Dance | Claimoh Solais | 4 x Shiva Knives | Twin Burners​

​

​

The galaxy had been written by the war between the light and the dark, between the Sith and the Jedi. A constant struggle between the two for the soul of the force, for the direction of the galaxy. Sometime the lightside, the Jedi, were in the ascent, sometimes the Sith but neither side was ever in the ascent for long. That was history, that was the future, that was the fate of the galaxy, a merry-go-around that would never end, a ride you couldn’t ever get off.

That was the history, the heartbeat of the galaxy that drove it on and on into a future filled with the same conflict. Only recently, that history had gotten muddied, other enemies had danced onto the battlefield distracting both the Jedi and the Sith from the age-old conflict that had in many ways come to define them. The Mandalorians, that ancient warrior cult had rampaged across the galaxy, drawing the ire of both the Jedi and the Sith, one of the few times they were united in their goal. And yet…and yet..
Asaraa had never thought she’d actually visit Mandalore, never imagined she would ever step foot on Concordia, the moon turned into a fortress that was designed to protect the planet, to control the system. She’d never dreamed that she’d be here to actually defend the Mandalorians, the very people who had terrorised the galaxy for years, who had brought death and destruction to every planet they turned their eyes on. And she was here to defend them.

The pink-haired Jedi’s hand tightened into a fist, the soft fabric of her glove stretching around her hand with a soft sigh. It wasn’t that she hated the Mandalorians, but if there was one group in the galaxy she disliked more than the Sith…which was why it was so confusing, the Silver Jedi had deployed today to protect the Mandalorians. To save them from the Sith who had for so long supported them, who had allowed the Mandalorian’s to run rampant across the galaxy.

She knew, in her head at least, that the Manadlorian people could hardly be blamed for the decisions of their leaders but still…they had taken part in it, they had been the ones to raze a Jedi temple, to bring horror and pain onto the world of Eshan. To step up, to give their own lives to defend them seemed wrong, but at the same time that was the Jedi way. Just one of those little dichotomies, those little issues that left her so confused.

Blue eyes dropped down to stare at her gloved hand, forcing the palm open as she stared at the black cloth as she took a deep breath in and then let it out again. In and out. It wasn’t just the Mandalorians that she was worried about, not really. White teeth bit into the soft flesh of her lower lip as the Jedi’s gaze flicked up towards the imposing wall of the fortress to the presence she could sense beyond it. A Dark Sun, his waves of power, of the force lapping out to cover the planet, almost a physical force buffeting her even from this distance. If she close her eyes she could see him sense him, remember him. The Dark sun that had shrugged her off on Azure, an insect barely worth his attention despite all the power she’d managed to gather.

Asaraa knew she’d pushed herself too far then, had almost burned herself out but it had all been in vain, the most she’d been able to do was to help protect the victims. She’d never seen the man, never seen the Dark Sun in the flesh, but she knew him, could feel him the fear of him burned into her very bones. She was a Jedi, a servant of the light, of goodness, they were supposed to stand against the darkness, against those users of the force who embraces it, who revelled in the pain that they caused. So why couldn’t she stop trembling…only she didn’t know if it was in excitement or fear. There was a part of her, surrounded by the strongest walls she could construct, a part of her that felt alive, wanted to pull in the darkness, to dance and sing. And there was the light, the part of her that wanted to blaze against it, to be that sword…that was terrified. She remembered her powerlessness, all the souls that had died, that she’d failed and seen melting away into the force. The girl’s fist clenched into a fist, unable to stop the trembling that ran through her entire body as she tore her gaze away from the wall long enough to glance at her father, at the rangers that surrounded them.

“You just had to go and pick the toughest objective didn’t you? You couldn’t pick something easy just for once. And you just knew if I let anything happen to you Jairdain would have my head.”

The humour was a mask, a cover she could fall behind to protect herself to stop herself from showing concern or weakness…only it felt hollow, even to her the mask was empty. Like the slightest pressure would cause it to crack and even Asaraa didn’t know what would be revealed beneath. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.

Unconsciously she worked her ring around her finger, the metal cool against her skin. She hadn’t dared use it, not yet, that fear was there that under the mask she was dark and not light, that the sword would turn on her…only she might not have a choice now. It was up and over the wall and open up the gates, take down the fortress, and he was there, the Dark Sun with an almost gravitational pull.

“Well, race you to the top old man?”

 

[Zef Halo]

​

LOCATION: CONCORDIA ORBIT, ASSAULT FRIGATE RETRIBUTION
ALLIES: SJO | [member="Rupert Kingswood"], [member="Thirdas Heavenshield"], [member="Tulan Kor"]
ENEMIES: TSE | [member="Braith Achlys"]
SCENE: Fortress Imperious, storming the barracks

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GV2kjdNV0u4​

Dorn Company,
3rd Battalion

"Captain, once more unto the breach, sir."​

​

Amon heard the unnaturally warm words of the now sergeant through his comms. Captain. How fast had he gone up the ladder, the Mandalorian had just realized. Mandalorians' capabilities as warriors were notorious, and with reason, but even he was surprised at the field commissions piling up on his chest. How much had he changed? He really could not find the answer but instead could see the changes of the men around him. Those that survived. The scars molded them into something new.

Thirdas Heavenshield no longer carried himself with doubt but with confidence and calmness. Would he make his father proud?

But more importantly would he live to tell the tale?

Men and women of both sides fell in a snap with each onslaught of exchanged fire. Gone in an instant, lives cut perhaps too short. Amon lacked the luxury to dwell on that and his father had told him billions of times such thoughts would be his end.

The Mandalorian gave the sergeant a nod. Once more unto the breach.

Precision bunker buster missiles of vehicles which survived Hell's Landing, for that is what best described the Landing at Fortress Imperious, struck the ground ahead of them opening up trenches for soldiers of both sides to pour into. Pockets were open for the Rangers to storm the supposed barracks of the fortress. To their chagrin, much of the vehicles, after firing their salvo, were easily picked off by Sith forces.

"Dorn Company, double time forward, into the trenches. Seek a way inside! We're spearheading." Amon called through the comms. "Secure pockets to get inside the barracks."

"Come on you, sons of schuttas!! Who wants to live forever?!" A gunny sarge barked back through the comm channels as the orders poured unto their HUDs.

Dorn Company led the way forward with Amon swiftly turning off his casualty report feed sliding down his HUD endlessly.

Rangers moved onward with shields lighting up aiming to give them one more decisive shot of life in reaching their target. In his own dash forward, Amon's Mandalorian vambrace came to life with a burst of blaster fire striking a Sith droid crippling it to scrap. He had missed the feeling of the familiar vambrace as much as he missed his beskar'gam. There was something symbolic in using the Mandalorian combat tool right here, right now as he sought vengeance for the Mando'ade.

The Darksaber snap hissed to life, its eerie formidable noise crackling but remained unheard from the chaos of war surrounding him.

The ebony blade reminded him of [member="Ronan Vizsla"], his father, of his clan and of the mountains of Concordia.

And it would remind everyone that an idea cannot be killed.

OYA!​

 

[Maia Halos]

Beskar Mines
Allies: TSE
Enemies: SJO [member="Kenth Typho"] (Nearby [member="Auteme Denko-Durren"] and [member="Nida Perl"])

The events unfolding above were as yet unknown to the Knight.

While her teacher was no longer her master now that she had attained her own knighthood, there were political gains to doing things that continued to build that relationship. And favors traded, usually to the more powerful sith's benefit, was a particular currency in the hierarchy of the Empire. So Maia was here, looking over the other Sith's interests.

She'd rather be shoving splinters under her nails.

Following along behind the foreman, she stifled the urge to yawn. His explanation of mining theory was beyond uninteresting. At least until-

"Input to output ratios?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Yes, as I was saying, Knight Halos-"

"Output of course you mean Beskar. But by input you mean sentient lives."

The man shifted, uncomfortable at being pinned down and torn out of his choice of euphemism.

"Well, yes Ma'am." His eyes darted down to her shoulders then back up again. Inwardly, she grimaced. "To mine it at a rate that makes being here worthwhile, there is a natural attrition of our inputs-"

"People." Her tone was flat.

"Yes. Inputs."

"Oh no," she said, a nasty little smile curling over her face. "Say it with me, Foreman Niles. People. If you are going to do it, what shame is there in owning the fact?" Tone deliberately innocent.

Her thoughts on slavery were unimportant in this moment. Her thoughts on hypocrisy however were what was making the foreman start to sweat and she thoroughly enjoyed watching the discomfort flicker across his face.

"Unless, of course, you are ashamed....."

 

[Mariel Dawnrider]

Armored Transport -> Air
Weaponized Equator
Allies: SJO
Enemies: TSE [member="Jorryn Fordyce"]

"ARE YOU SURE YOU ARE READY JEDI DAWNRIDER???"

The other Jedi shouted to be heard over the roaring winds. They stood perched on the edge of the open side of the transport, the air whistling at high speed and even higher pitch past their ears. The human was clearly uncomfortable with the way it sung and plucked at his clothing but Mariel was elated.

"I AM!" The Songwing pipped.

"MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU!"

Mariel closed her eyes and stepped out of the transport. The barest twitch of feathers and her wings opened, dove grey against grey skies. She felt the heat of the updraft from the engines as the transport sped on and she used that to lift her higher, giving her a (pardon) bird's eye view of one of the trenches. She knew her targets- moving laser turrets- a direct danger to those incoming on the transports but too slow to track such a small target. A small, double bandoleer criss-crossed over her feathers, a series of glop grenades with easy releases.

Her task was simple- disable as many of the rotating turrets as possible in a specific arc to allow better access by the Silver Jedi and their allies. The adhesive grenades were ideal for this purpose, though she had to make certain if possible the turrets were aimed away from a certain sweep of entry. Stick them in place, unable to fire anywhere but a single direction.

It wasn't much, really, in the over all battle.

But it was a lot for a small owl.

She winged over, dipping and weaving, following the movement of the air- the Slipstream- even more important to her as a Songwing than the Force as the Force was part of the Slipsteam- circling toward her first target. Reaching up, she used a claw to slice the cord holding a grenade and let it fall.

 

[Tulan Kor]

​

Location: Assault Position at Fortress Imperious
Allies: SJO l Task Force Raider l Rangers l @Amon Viszla l [member="Thirdas Heavenshield"] l [member="Rupert Kingswood"]
Objective: Take the fort, kill 'em all!

Dorn Company

The Rangers were brutal under Tulan.

Amon may have taught them loyalty, Thirdas may have shown his men bravery and courage and how to move past a legacy that your father built- Tulan's men under his tutelage learned one thing and one thing alone:

How to kill the enemy in the most effective way possible.

The trenches had been made, the lines had been drawn. The defenders were now in their positions, the attackers staged, poised to strike. There were preparations to be made before the assault, furious movement in order to secure victory. Relatively speaking, the Rangers were in a good position and had the tactical upper hand at the moment. The Sith had yet to make any serious strides in mounting a counter attack or an upgraded defensive posture.

Tulan was screaming this and that way, yelling into the radio for various units to place themselves where they needed to be. Heavy machine gun teams, E-webs and machine guns alike, were to be providing an enfilade of fires, while the mortar units would be firing in a creeping method to cover the infantry's advance. Once the infantry got close enough, they were going to be dropping IR smoke directly on the Sith positions to cause as much chaos and confusion as possible. After that, it was up to the Sappers and Demo teams. But Tulan wasn't worried about the second stage of the plan, because none of it really mattered if the first stage wasn't executed and handled properly.

Tulan waved his left hand, and all hell from the lines broke loose- massive, overwhelming, accurate suppression directly on the Sith's dug-in positions. What would come next would surprise the hell out of them, hopefully. He spoke directly to his boy, [member="Thirdas Heavenshield"] over the radio. He motioned [member="Rupert Kingswood"] over to him. Time for the kid to learn battlefield control.

"Heavenshield get your big ass into that enemy trench and slit their ----ing throats! Start cutting a path for the main assault element! Kingswood, you're on me! Dorn Company all the way!"

And with that- Tulan let the Rangers do what they did best.

Kill.

 

[Vaulkhar]

Location: En Route to Concordia, the Fortress Moon​

Objective: Shut down the Weaponized Equator.​

Allies: Silver Jedi Order - [member="Jeremiah Jade"] | [member="Kale Seleare"]​

Enemies: The Sith Empire - [member="Lorale Farmar"] | [member="Valin Stryder "]| [member="Kalt Bruq"]​

Theme: Kamelot - At First Light​

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Shouts and orders echoed all around Ven as he pressed forward into the throng of imperial soldiers. His saber twirled elegantly around him in a series of defensive movements, each meant to ward away blaster bolts while keeping the men and women behind him alive. It was a functioning strategy they hastily cobbled together, but not one that would last. There was far too great a distance between their drop zone and the sith artillery for anything more than a beeline to work. Even then, the growing imperial defense already outnumbered his unit three to one and he was not enough to close the growing gap in numbers. Fortunately, the Silver Jedi were not foolish enough to send one man and his ill equipped squad to the equator. Elsewhere, the jedi forces assaulted other high priority targets at the equator. Enough pressure was alleviated by these assaults that Ven and his unit were once more able to press on in a slow crawl towards the distant weaponry.

One by one, imperial soldiers were gunned down by the soldiers behind him as Ven retained focus on the defensive. A second saber joined the first as his weapon of choice on Kashyyyk, an emerald green saber, leaped to his hand and surged to life. White and green blurred around him as the jedi's arms moved faster than the naked eye could follow to deflect the flurry of fire focused on him. Their pace quickened as the imperial forces struggled to slow the jedi, though that quickly changed as four of the defenders pushed past their cover and charged Ven. His eyes widened as he considered the unit behind him. Their chief defense in the battle was the jedi. If he stopped to clear out the four it could have catastrophic results on each of them. Once again, others came to their rescue as Jeremiah fired off four well placed shots, each finding a home in an imperial chest. Their bodies crumpled to the ground seconds before Ven stepped over them. He turned a full 360 degrees to spot his savior, offering a nod in thanks before turning back to the empire's artillery. The massive weapons only grew larger as he stepped into the shadows they cast over the battlefield, though his attention was once more torn away as a greater threat loomed on the edge of his perception.

Sith.

A number of dark side practitioners were converging on his location and their combined presence was beyond what he could handle. A series of Acolytes? Easy. A couple of Knights? A bit more difficult but still in his range, but this was too much. He took a deep breath and continued to push forward. The artillery had to be destroyed, the remnants of Mandalore beneath the sith could not be allowed to live in fear of weaponry raining down on them from their own moon. Though the soldiers at his back were not force sensitive, Ven could tell the tension and chaos of the battle was not slowing them down. When they signed on to this mission with the former Sith Lord, each one of them knew they might not be coming back. It was a sacrifice they were all willing to make, one he would not besmirch by running away.

That all changed when Kale suddenly came into view. Ven's eyes nearly doubled in size as he noticed the younger man. He opened his mouth to call out to him but found himself interrupted by the sudden and explosive appearance of Darth Raptious. A massive blade cut through the air towards Ven at breathtaking speeds. He narrowly avoided the first strike, so much so his back went parallel to the ground to avoid being sliced in twain. He deactivated both of his saber's and appeared to almost dance with the flaming Sith Lord as his body twisted and twirled between each strike. In their past battle, Ven's superior speed afforded him an advantage he was able to turn to a decisive victory. Unfortunately, the sith had learned from his mistakes and came back with a fury, one that put Ven on the defensive immediately. He was forced away from his squad with each strike sent his way by Darth Raptious and each step taken made the possibility of completing the mission far more difficult.

"Take up defensive positions and hold your ground!" Ven's orders came quickly over their commlink as he avoided yet another of the sith's blows by a hair's length. "Once the defensive is beaten back take the charges to the guns and blow em to hell!" and with that, the jedi's snow white saber burned to life once again and caught the Phoenix's blade before it could finish him off. The blow lifted Ven up into the air and sent him half a dozen meters away before he slid across the ground. Already the Sith Lord was upon him. Calling the force to his aid, Ven's body blurred right alongside the flaming immortal. "You've gotten faster, Raptious. I can't help but feel I left a lasting effect on you after our first battle," a smirk crawled onto his face as he parried aside another strike. He ducked beneath it and slid behind the giant. Ven's saber worked quickly as he sent a series of short strikes towards the back of his knees. Though his attacks were quick, they were not quick enough. Raptious turned and blasted Ven back with yet another powerful swipe, but this time he moved after the jedi before he could hit the ground. The giant slammed his armored shoulder into the jedi's chest and sent him tumbling into the dirt beneath them.

Ven rolled to the side as the large blade dug deep into the earth where was a split second earlier. He pushed himself back to his feet and gripped the hilt as the giant lifted the weapon up. Tugged alongside it, Ven launched himself up and over the sith with the large man's own momentum and the force aiding him in his movement. As he fell behind the towering warrior, his cybernetic hand held fast to the armored man's plated back and swung him back around towards the Sith Lord's front side. Each movement was made to confuse the massive man before Ven attempted to drive the blade into Raptious' grip and disarm him completely.

 

[Nida Perl]

Location: Beskar Mines
Allies: SJO | [member="Auteme Denko-Durren"] | [member="Kenth Typho"] I guess
Enemies: [member="Maia Halos"]

War was an inevitability. It was one of those little snippets Nida would tell herself to make things feel more justified, more sane. In the eternal struggle of Good Guys vs. Bad Guys, it was normal to question your own motives and beliefs. Just because it was normal didn’t mean that it felt good.

The Zeltron followed Auteme, pacing forward swiftly until she’d fallen in step beside the other healer. “I forgot to thank you for taking care of my shoulder back there, on Kashyyyk.” She offered the brunette a smile, lifting her arm and rolling the joint of her shoulder in a circular motion. “Everything feels as a good as new!” She’d gotten herself shot during a mission by doing something stupid. Hopefully the decisions that followed their assault on the mines would be more well thought out, even if this was the last place Nida had wanted to be.

When she’d found out that the Sith had been using slaves in their beskar mines—because of course they were—suddenly the Silver’s offensive felt more justified, personally. Nida’s early years had seen her as a child in the dregs of slavery, and it gave her more confidence to know that she had the power to do something about it. At least partially, in this specific instance.

As long as they could get the slaves out. She understood the tactical necessity of crippling the mines, but it was a secondary task in her mind. Besides, Nida had never crippled anything in her life. Her role was to heal the wounded and shepherd civilians out of harm’s way. Still, protection often necessitated force. The Padawan may have held on to certain innocent ideals, but her nativity had been stripped away. The galaxy was a brutal place, and she knew that walking the path of a Jedi was something of a moral salad.

They had passed through the mouth of a cave, cautiously slipping further into the mine. The dark side seemed to seep further into the earth as they went, and Nida’s found herself focusing intently on everything there was to feel. The earthen wall, the deposits of beskar beneath her feet, the faint threads of life that ran further towards the core of the planet.

 

[WelshPsych]

Location: Concordia - outside Fortress Imperious
Allies: SJO and [member="Asaraa Vaashe"]
Enemies: TSE and [member="Darth Prazutis"]

Equipment: Archer Armour, Energy Bow, Explosive Arrows, Force Resistant Arrows

Concordia had been battered by the Sith fleet, clear that the Sith were no longer taking the Mandalorians nonsense, they moved in and took the capital from the clans. It was clear that things were not going well for the Mandalorians and that the Sith were not going to let them off easily. Reports had come in that a massive genocide was coming into effect, though these were just rumours echoing from the Jedi Shadows that Yuroic had been communicating with. He was taking it with a pinch of optimism that the Sith wouldn't cross that line with people they had once considered allies. He looked around Concordia and could see that this moon was not the one that it had been several months ago. People were different, the Force was different on this world. While he hadn't been to Concordia before, he could just feel that something felt artificial in the Force, as if someone was pouring the Dark Side into the world more than was already here. He looked around the area and paused for a moment, he ordered forces to take a large perimeter surround the fortress that they were at. He needed to know as much as they could learn about this fortress before he could formulate a plan about their approach.

His eldest, Asaraa, had joined him on this mission. This was something he was mostly glad of because she had not long pushed herself over the limit and nearly killed herself. Yuroic had been very clear on how dangerous this was and that she must never attempt something so stupid in the future but being on her side, he knew that he would be able to protect her from such risk. Especially when he was still the more skilled and capable of the two of them, for now. Yuroic knew that he only have a few more years of being at his prime before things would be too difficult for him to keep up with others younger than him. It was a day he was not looking forward to, but one he could not prevent, people got older, it was the unfortunate consequence of time. For now, he was young enough to be agile, strong and with his armour and weapons, deadly. His Force powers were nullified with the arrows he had brought with him due to the voidstone within them, but that didn't concern him, it made the arrows more deadly for his enemy and he didn't need the Force to kick butt.

Looking over to Asaraa, he smirked and shook his head, "pick the toughest objective. I'm sorry, who nearly got themselves killed on their last mission?" He raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her with a teasing smirk to let her know he was joking with her. "If anything happened to you, Jairdain, your sister and Caedyn would have my head, so I have more reason to keep you safe than you do me." He chuckled deeply before he cracked knuckles and looked at the fortress they had to face. "We can't rush in. This Dark Side power is strong, we need to be smart about our approach. I should receive some reports and we can stick together, whoever is inside is probably stronger than me and you but we are a smart pair so as long as we work as a team then we have a chance."

His tone was unusually sombre but Yuroic knew that the Dark Side was too strong, the last time he felt the strength of the Dark Side, even with voidstone arrows was when he faced the Sith Emperor. Something that he was not looking to do alone ever. His comms blinked with an alert, the report of the fortress had come in. He brought the plans up with Asaraa, "So how do you think we should approach this as a team?" Yuroic was testing his daughter's strategic skills but also generally interested in her opinion since he respected her.

 

[Adriana Fortemps]

Location: Concordia - Weaponized Equator
Objective: Defend the Sector
Allies: TSE
Enemies: SJO | [member="Mariel Dawnrider"]

The Jedi had gotten bold it would appear, finally assaulting somewhere of the Sith's own. Jorryn may have felt proud of the undignified little cretins if she hadn't held on to how affronted she was by the skirmish of Kashyyk, being laid defenceless at the feet of the Jedi. Just remembering it began to anger the Echani as she sat in the command chair of an equator section, ready to command volleys strong enough to dredge their forces out of the sky.

"We are prepared for if the assault this section, correct Commander?"

She leaned into the knuckles of her fist as cries of confirmation came from the officer in front of her. "We are ready to destroy the Jedi with full force of the Empire, My Lady." An unnecessarily deep bow coming from the Togrutan, an effort she waved off with an uninterested gesture. The gestures of those without the force was meaningless as always, like an insect bringing a crumb to a Zillo Beast.

It could never just be a "Yes, maam" with the ungifted, couldn't it.

A few ships came up on the radar, but they seemed to be looming near the edges. The autocannons concentrated their fire, a simple enough objective that Jorryn didn't need to intervene. Still it would have been nicer if they would just come down and get annihilated quickly, if she was lucky some of the Jedi that had humiliated her would be caught in the destruction.

The Echani began to lull off somewhat until the sound of destruction coming from much too close to them nearly made her jump out of her seat, smoke and fire in the distant view of the window. No ship had gotten past her defences surely, but this technology was top of the line Sith engineering. It didn't simply malfunction.

Either way the Inquisitor had to act and she had to act now, this sector wouldn't be lost under her command unless she willed it. If Jedi forces had somehow managed to smuggle themselves behind her defences they would be slaughtered like caged beasts. The door threw itself open with a blunt shove of the force, showing only the grey walls of the trench. The battery that had been destroyed had been on the outermost defences. Hardly the most worrying loss, but she had the feeling a pattern would soon follow. Her boots clanged against the steel as she raced down the trenches towards the smouldering wreck, amber eyes trying to spot any insurgents as she jumped near the burning battery.

There were no signs of any Jedi forces around, nor even any signs of a scuffle. Just a destroyed battery. Her mind began to wonder if it was just a random malfunction, some technician karked something up good. That was until the second explosion right next to Jorryn, almost throwing her off her feet. Panic took over somewhat as she surveyed everywhere to find the cuplrit; the trench, the ground, the sk-

Is that a fething bird with a string of grenades...?

Confusion took a strong hold of the Inquisitor before summarily being replaced with rage at the small blue figure in the sky, a third grenade dropping as it flew over another battery. If the bird likes exploding Jorryn's artillery so much then perhaps maybe a taste of it's own medicine would be required, a hand raising to activate on of the grenades hanging from the owl. Hopefully it would finish up this problem neatly, but the pale red saber that the Inquisitor pulled from her waist ignited.

If the creature survived then Jorryn wanted to know who it was that tried to end it.

 

[BobertEZ]

***Location: Fortress Imperious, Concordia
Objective: Prepare Defenses
Star Date: c. 859
Allies: TSE
Enemies: [member="Vaulkhar"] | SJO***

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VagES3pxttQ&list=RDVagES3pxttQ&start_radio=1​

The principals of honorable combat dictate that one of the greatest sins in life is to flee combat when neither party is grievously injured or called to a greater purpose than the duel at hand. Vaulkhar, Son of Carnifex, Slayer of the Puppet Raptious, Former Fist of the Emperor, was luckily not one such person, for he did not flee where others had as the two danced across the snow laden mountain side. As the Phoenix swung with great power and swiftness, the massive blade's crackling flames that spewed forth from non-reality slicing the air itself, so to did Vaulkhar attack with agility and precision. More than ten times had the Traitor Son landed a strike against Lorale, only to find the armor that the Phoenix now donned was made of an impenetrable metal, likely the venerable Impervium that was used for the massive blade, thus not only blocking but practically repelling the attacks.

Vaulkhar would have to use all of his might in order to break through the layers of the armor, but the possibility of this seemed thin as Lorale spun and slashed with a grace that contrasted the sheer weight the armor and weapon possessed. Anyone would have been considered correct in assuming that Lorale should have been unable to move an inch in the armor whilst possessing three weapons of seemingly heavy weight and clear disgusting, sheer size. Yet there was no issue, as if the armor and weapon were made of straw.

"You left an impression, Son of Carnifex," Lorale finally whispered through the threads of the Force as they and the traitor dance stepped in the snow and ice that dusted around them from the impact of weapons and feet. "Power. Focus. Once I fought with rage. Wrath. Clouded vision. You opened my eyes, Scion of the Jedi. I thank you."

Lorale finished the statement with a wide swing, pull back into a crouched pflug stance before shooting forward with the blade aimed for the sternum of the traitor. Vaulkhar dodged effortlessly with a speed that made him appear more gust of wind than human being and clashed his lightsaber downward to trace it along the sword towards in a swiping motion towards the Sith Lord's ribs. Lifting the blade upward whilst staying crouched, the lightsaber passed over their head by mere inches, and yet still the plasmic blade sparked against the metal in displays of tiny red fireworks.

Quickly deducing that the blade's massive size had outlived its current turn, Lorale stood and sheathed it upon their armored back whilst simultaneously igniting their dual-phased lightsaber and unsheathing Stormlight adopting a modified stance of Jar'Kai. The orange blade of Bittersweet was nearly as long as the Sith Lord's leg and crackled with old age while the Sithsword roared with hunger, the starvation of the blade now so strong it was possible for all Force Users to sense it, the sound more akin to a roaring tornado than a collection of tormented spirits. The blades would find immediate use when a second Jedi and a unit of ground soldiers arrived through the sheen of dusted snow, attempting to aid their comrade. Bittersweet slashed through soldiers like butter while Stormlight shot forth a torrent of charged lightning into the Jedi who burst into flames from within before collapsing into the snow a charred ruin.

Lorale sighed, their first audible noise beyond the threads of the Force, and turned to Vaulkhar once more and pointed their lightsaber towards their chest. Once more with near imperceptible and near impossible speed for the armor and weapons equipped, the Phoenix charged forward, clashing with the traitor's lightsaber three strikes for each combatant every second. Where Lorale attacked, Vaulkhar defended. Where Vaulkhar attacked, Lorale defended. Their steps and dodges had taken on an almost ethereal grace, a dignity matched only by those of similar skill, the count of which was small, limited, rare. By the time a minute had passed in this reformed duet, their blades had struck three hundred and sixty times, one hundred and eighty per combatant. Neither showed signs of exhaustion as if they were merely practicing a performance for a play, as if the fight had been choreographed before hand.

The two finally broke, Vaulkhar flipping backward into a three-point stance and Lorale sweeping into a standing position and blades at their side.

"Unpredictability. Unorthodox. This is how a true warrior fights," Lorale whispered yet again through the Force, having been physically silent for the entirety of the duel. "You taught me much, Vaulkhar. Speak to me, as we dance. Tell me why you left us when we are so much...stronger."

The Phoenix added a large emphasis on that last word, leaping into the air and swinging both blades downward, Bittersweet aimed for Vaulkhar's shoulder and Stormlight for his neck. Vaulkhar deflected both with surprising strength, resulting in the Sith Lord simply landing on their feet in front of the Jedi, motionless with a crooked smirk under their helmet, waiting for the Jedi to make the next move.

 

[Heca Foliou]

Location: Fortress Imperious
Allies: Sith
Enemies: Jedi | [member="Kiegan Lysle"]

She stood out like a sore thumb from the rest of her acquaintances within the daunting complex of Fortress Imperious. Of course, her peers that pursued in manipulating the dark arts of the Force, and its other intriguing aspects, could sense that aura of cold and hate in her. They knew she was a Sith with how she radiated with the darkness that flew within her like blood in her veins. What made her an oddity amongst her peers was by how she presented herself in appearance. One would often visualize a Sith to be clothed in plates of black iron all along their person, much like the late Darth Malgus or its Majesty of the Sith Empire, Darth Carnifex. Tradition amongst the order she studied with, but there were certain traditions she did not romanticize. Rather Heca opted for something much more...unorthodox. She wore cloth of what could be seen as wealth, although it was nothing exaggerated that nobles would wear to boast their already pretentious status. It was customized so it wouldn’t impede her agility and other assets to weave her way in combat, yet still adhering to that beautiful sight. Her colleagues would think she welcomed pain and death to herself to which she, unironically enough, didn’t flinch at the thought of it. Didn’t mean she would willingly surrender herself to Death.

She had come to Concordia in hopes to acquire pounds of Mandalorian Iron from the moon’s remarkable litter of deposits that was now being abused by the industrial power of the Sith Empire. Heca was not affiliated with the ranks of the Empire much like her master, [member="Matsu Xiangu"], operating with the Spider and chasing her own projects. She had come from Maena to offer words of congratulations to the Emperor from both her and her Master, before asking what she desired. Simply to have beskar be carved into a piece of jewelry something that would be perverted later with the mystics of the Force.

Sadly that venture would have to wait as she could sense something right before the klaxons sounded off. A snarl escaped from her teeth as she recognized its signature.

Jedi.

How much they enjoyed being the stalwart heroes of the Galaxy, though it did spark a sense of curiosity of why they wish to strike at Mandalore’s moon. Was it an act of vengeance for the humiliated warriors of a now defunct Empire that only pretended to be the intimidating marauders of the Galaxy. Wishing to liberate them? A good question to many theoretical answers. Perhaps she could pry its intent from the mind of the Jedi.

”A shame to see my time wasted, but I’ll see it be compensated somehow.”

It had been a while she dissected a Jedi, and Heca had been constructing more insidious designs of her own with the continued training of her master.

 

[Ellie Mors]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjGO5eNYxNs[/media]​

Shock waves ripped through the surface of the moon, battering the fortress with echoes of the Jedi and Mandalorian arrival, and gave urgency to the movement of soldiers and Sith alike as they scattered like insects throughout the halls of the massive superstructure. Like a rogue pawn ignoring the whims of its player, Braith strode towards the mouth of the barracks with a complete disregard for the protocol set in place for just such an emergency. There was no Empire to her now; no Jedi, no Sith, and the Mandalorians that had arrived with their holier-than-thou allies were similarly dehumanized to her from the moment they had arrived in the air above. The goal of the Empire's soldiers was to preserve it, the goal of its enemies was to destroy it - but her sole task was to kill anything that presented itself as a threat to her. It didn't matter who had came, why they had decided to strike, or their motivations and goals, all that mattered now was that her blade had been drawn and her attention had been drawn to the center of the conflict.

Stepping into the main corridor that each of the smaller clusters of barracks each fed into, which in turn led directly to the tram system and tunnels that fed into each other artery of the fortress, Braith arrived just in time to observe the arrival of insurgent troops cutting a path through hapless soldiers that were ill prepared for a raid on the interior of the facility itself. The orbalisk-adorned witch, lightsaber in hand, initially held little interest for the emerging Jedi-Mandalorian troops, but the sight of something not quite unlike the weapon she held in her own hand drew her attention immediately. She hadn't noticed the presence of anyone with a significant presence in the force during her approach, so she hadn't anticipated meeting someone wielding a lightsaber so soon, but it made them an important threat nonetheless.

"I expected more."

[member="Amon Vizsla"]

 

[Arcan Lancea]

Location: Weaponized Equator​

Allies: TSE​

Enemies: [member="Jeremiah Jade"] | SJO​

Equipment: VT-Particle SMG, VT-Vonduun Skerr Karamik, Crushgaunts​

The sounds of war raged all around Arcan as he sat in the trenches of Concordia’s equator. To and fro the Sith troopers and accompanying acolytes went. Explosions rang out both nearby and in the distance, the screams of those caught in them piercing the sky. To many, it would be unnerving, but having spent time in a penal colony in the Outer Rim for most of his life had numbed Arcan to the atrocities of life. There were days he’d wake up to riots that had taken a substantial amount of lives, both of the officers and the inmates. Aiding the mercenary in tuning out the horrors that took place all around him was a couple of small vials filled with crimson-colored liquids.

Raising one of the vials to his lips Arcan stared upwards to the sky, above in the skies he saw the red and green bolts of energy from starfighters lace their way through the air endeavoring to destroy their foes. Many would ask why the mercenary had signed on with the Sith, and it was simple, they paid better. The liquid cascaded down the human’s throat, unlike an alcoholic beverage it didn’t burn or warm Arcan, it chilled him. Chilled the Jedi to his very core for a few seconds then came the inferno. The Mercenary’s arms felt as though they’d been set ablaze, an intense itching coming with the burn. Reality around him shifted to a kaleidoscope of colors, the figures surrounding him still visible but moving much slower. Mouth opening and widening into a smile, Arcan felt free once more. As he exhaled a chuckle escaped the merc dawning his helmet to hide the euphoria induced grin.

Rising, Arcan charged out into the field alongside the imperial soldiers, standing out from them due to the armor he’d purchased. He had sworn he wouldn’t be caught dead in the trooper armor, they were far too bland for one. Secondly, they were far too restricting. The field of battle was filled with the energy darts of both Sith and Jedi troopers firing back and forth, other portions with Jedi and Sith battling. Standing out among them was an individual, silver-haired, that stood tall, and had an almost charming smile on their face that quickly disposed of four imperials with a simple pistol. Each of them having collapsed to the ground in the blink of an eye, unable to even defend themselves. That’s not happening to me. Arcan thought to himself, more as a warning to himself to not get caught off guard.

Raising the VT-Particle SMG, Arcan opened fire, his aim slightly off the yellow bolts of plasma eating into the ground at the man’s feet ([member="Jeremiah Jade"]) detonating and working their way up to the figure’s weapon, the whole time with Arcan closing in.

 

[Darth Assimilus]

Location: En Route to Concordia, Fortress Imperious
Objective: D
Allies: SJO
Enemies: TSE [member="Arcan Lancea"]

Oh baby this assault if anything fed my trigger finger more than I'd care to admit. The silent clicks of my trusted sidearm were true. I started to feel like an ewok celebrating a love festival after several more sith troopers fell to the ground. My gaze shifting over each corpse reflecting an inner emotions. A mix of pity and justice. They were pawns just following orders. Some may believe that this Empire they served also benefited them as well but it only went so far. How very fickle this area was. Perhaps in my younger years I would of displayed the common Jedi trait of mercy to these soldiers but that time had died long ago. It was gone and never to return.

... Just like my wife.​

​

Blinking hard I could feel my body twitch slightly. That very thought striking a chord inside the inner frequency of my heart. A chill. Vagabond memories roamed about free. Damn, already?! I cursed questioning my own resilience against the stimulants that kept more psychic conditions at bay. I thought id have more time. The uncanny sound of teeth gritting was more present to me than to any of my adjacent allies. Stress. The curse of fighting sober. In fact if it was not for the lights presence apon me I'd might have reacted..well lets not dwell on that. The charge continued forward ever more for the Rangers in front of me. No one wanted to be hampered down by an old dog like me anyway. This was OK. They had a sprint. I kept a jog and a smile on my face. [member="Vaulkhar"] of course spearheaded this charge. An ex-Sith Lord. He was a good lad.

Raising the VT-Particle SMG, Arcan opened fire, his aim slightly off the yellow bolts of plasma eating into the ground at the man’s feet (Jeremiah Jade) detonating and working their way up to the figure’s weapon, the whole time with Arcan closing in.

" Huh? What?" Did my poor eye sight deceive me? Once again "Luck" had come, only this time in the form of bad aim. My forward job shifted in a hurried back peddle as the explosions came inches within my form. A frantic but graceful dance of sorts weaving left and right in diagonal patterns. Extremely difficult to do on sort notice. I came to blow up a base not dance around like a veermok. And this also did nothing to stop my attackers charge. A big one. A light flashed bright from within my left facing palm away from my own body. If luck was still with me it would stop my attacker in his tracks or desperately throw his direction off course. As for me a graceful leap to my right was strategic enough to place me roughly an adjacent four feet away, more than enough time to draw one weapon and holster the other. My ELG-3A Sidearm would do fine in this situation. I kept my sidearm at hip level close to my body pointed at my attacker. I fired two shot. One for each hand.

 

[Kaleleon]

Location: Concordia, the Fortress Moon - Ground Forces
Objective: Shut down the Weaponized Equator.
Allies: Silver Jedi Order, [member="Jeremiah Jade"], [member="Vaulkhar"],
Enemies: The Sith Empire, [member="Valin Stryder'], [member="Kalt Bruq"], [member="Lorale Farmar"], [member="Arcan Lancea"], [member="Funami Teriyaki"],
Gear: Armor, Gloves, Lightsaber, Pistol.

Vaulk Looked over to me. I could see it in his eyes as he was surprised I was here. To be honest, so was I. I thought would be heading to a different area, yet here I was. Sure enough, there was another man off to the side who actually seemed rather familiar. Almost as though I had met him before. Yet, I knew that I had not done so. The facial features looked distinct enough I could almost figure out out. However, I let it slide from my mind as it seemed a dark shield of energy enveloped two individuals, while a heavily armored one attacked against him. Something else felt wrong. Even as the darkened shield came up, another one attacked the Older man. Part of me wanted to help him, however, Vaulk was someone I knew, and could somewhat trust. Let alone have to deal with the others who seemed to be in a bubble shrouded in darkness around themselves.

No.

Last time I tried to use a pistol to help someone, I got someone I cared for shot. It wouldn't happen this time. Instead, I would be making my way for this bubble of the force. Clearly done so by magic as it was not clear, or resembling any kind of technology I had seen before. While holding the saber in my right hand, my left drew the blaster from my thigh. Holding it directly at this darkness that was staunch against ground. Clearly something I had never faced before, I needed to test what it was doing. Figure out why it was such as this. Taking one, two, three shots at this barrier while I stayed back from the two fights of these more able bodied warriors.

If there was one thing I learned, I needed to be a mediator of the fights.

Now only if I had Anon, or Narma here with me, then I could have them join in this fight to help more people. However right now, I could only rely on my own skills and hope that these two masters of the force who were with me, could handle themselves against these opponents. Nor did I want to just rush into the fight, and step on my ally's toes, or get in their way. Nor did I want to make myself a liability. No. I needed to support these men in their fights. I needed to be the person they could rely on for an extra hand if needed.

For now, the best I could do, is maybe keep whoever was in the bubble from coming out and attempting to attack one of the other Jedi. Keeping them occupied for whatever they were doing within the darkness.

 

[Romi Jade]

---

​

---

Location: Weaponized Equator, Concordia​

Objective: Mish, etc​

Tags: [member="Coren Starchaser"] - [member="Mishel Kryze"]​

---

​

---

​

A sudden spark of understanding flashed through her -- "They're heavily armed." she shot a look to Coren from the opposite side of the cockpit, but that only momentarily shielded her mind from the sense of hurt and indignity as her gaze panned. She sunk back into the seat, melding with her hand that propped her head up. It hurt her really because she'd gone through this before...and she was going to get Mish back if no one else would.​

​

It was interesting that this lead had come from no where...but not going would keep the slate empty; she couldn't live with that.​

​

Her blank stare became full again, and she transferred that energy back into navigating, "There's a spot not too far from here? Looks like it could put us close. Plugging it in now." she punched a few buttons, working through the cycle of anything helped put her in the right mind frame -- she was more quiet and reserved than usual.​

​

A quick glance through the viewport; the orange hue of the skies worked a sheen over her figure. They'd broken through clouds and were met largely with dense forest. It was warm in these parts...​

​

Click​

​

She'd unclipped her safety belt and pivoted around her seat in all one motion. After that, she was gone. "I'll meet you in the back."​

 

[Rupert Kingswood]

​

Location: Assault Positions at Fortress Imperious​

Allies: SJO | Cpt. [member="Amon Vizsla"] | GySgt. [member="Tulan Kor"] | Sgt. [member="Thirdas Heavenshield"]​

Enemies: TSE Scum​

Objective: Kill or Die​

​

---

​

---

​

Dorn Company.

Body after body, the chaos was still erupting.

Kingswood had loaded in another magazine, slid back the hammer and proceeded to let off a flurry of hot slugs, which all hit their targets. He, along with the attackers, were putting up a pretty stable offensive. The Rangers were always good on the offensive. They were known for it.

The sounds of explosions from the mortars constantly bombarding enemies on the long system of trenches rang throughout the Corporal's ears. The blaster fire from the Sith kept his mind alert. His current position was good in retrospect, yet in time it wouldn't last if the fighting continued. He constantly scanned the battlefield for a new position. If he were to move, he would definitely get hit, rather by a stray blaster bolt or some shrapnel. He wasn't so keen on seeing a medic this early into the battle. He had know idea where the medical team were. Another thing on his long objective list.

After some slight movements, a movement of the hand caught his eye. He turned his head sharply., ducking down to not get shot at. The Gunnery Sergeant, [member="Tulan Kor"], mentioned was waving for him to get over to his position. He already had had previous doubts about moving position s to not get hit, but he would rather take that pain then get a mouth full of angry comments from Kor. Not a nice fella, he is.

In a few seconds time, he thought of a pretty clever diversion. A thermal detonator. Just the thing that would draw attention off of him. He grabbed one out of his assault pack. He charged it, while taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He threw it towards the defensive position, and braced. The explosion came not long after. He quickly stood up and broke into a fast sprint over to the position. And as he suspected, his diversion worked. As he reached the position of the Gunnery Sergeant, he did a slick slide, positioning him right behind the barrier. The blue of the visor flashed off, so that Kor could see his eyes. Kingswood got up off of his back and onto his feet, looking dead at him. "Pretty impressive, aye?" He said with a smirk and a happy-go-lucky attitude.

Based off of his look, the Corporal could tell he wasn't impressed.

 

[Mishel Kryze]

Mežsrožu reached out to the Force like a pebble across the water.

[member="Coren Starchaser"] and [member="Romi Jade"] had arrived, a slow, devil's dance floor smile crawled along her lips. She whispered into the Force, she whispered for them to find her and ordered the shuttle to descend. The sweet abyss of the void passing on either side of the craft felt like a dip into the darkest pool. That soft, somber drop into the depths of the darkness that wrapped its sick black tendrils around her heart. The remnants of Incursion crawled along her skin and the imprint of the Emperor, [member="Darth Carnifex"] spoke in such dulcet tones that whispered sweet evil nothings into her mind. Mežsrožu recounted the hours, the days and months it had been since she had seen either of them. Recounted how Lady Raaf spoke of the Jedi's strong sense of abandonment, perhaps it was true and that she had not been worthy of such Jedi-like training.

Well.

The dark would just have to suffice, the shuttle pushed through the moon's atmopshere and throttled downward toward the weaponized equator. Mežsrožu readied herself she called to her hand an old friend. A lightsabre she thought lost on Utapau, the very place where she declared herself reborn into the light. The lightsabre hung from her belt loop casual as rain in Avalonia, the shuttle banked to the left and began its descent through to the jungle of duracrete, the mire of permacrete and weapons that now jutted out from the equator.

The shuttle's door slid open and Mežsrožu found a sweet spot just far enough from an orbital cannon, but close enough a missile silo. Another touch into the Force, another pebble across the water so that they could both sense her, and know that she would be waiting.

It was time to reunite with her Masters.