Operation Rebirth | The Rebellion's Rebellion of Jaminere (Hex AK-24)

[Lok Jorunn]

Allies: The Alliance
Foes: The Sith; [member="Eye of Solomon"], [member="Tavia Elori"]
Objective: Dump loads onto the Sith

Just for a moment, everything was quiet. Just for a moment, there weren't hordes of fighters swarming a meager squadron of forty.

Just for a moment, he felt the light shine even brighter within him. A power that could dispel any curse, cure any sickness, and save a being from the wretched, dark that threatened to consume them. There was a reason the rebellion existed. Not to cause terror but to liberate and free, to stave off the tide of the Sith just long enough for their slaves to truly taste what freedom was.

It was earned, kept, and protected by blood.

"You know your jobs! Fire everything you got!" Lok screamed through the headset, practically reverberating through the Force.

As the thundering deck cannons and defenses of the Song of Truth began to crescendo, the X-Wings and Y-Wings soared upwards as the flak and point defense blasts sailed past them. Their flight of interceptors made haste to do their intended role: screen. The crimson fighters laid hard on their sublight engines and zoomed to engage with the TIEs that closed in on them.

A few dying screams cut through the chorus of battle, cutting short as their interceptors were obliterated.

Their deaths only served to infuriate the X-Wings and bombers making a beeline towards the sensor jammers.

"Do it! Do it now!"

As their commander shouted in fury, nearly a dozen bombers let loose with their specialized missiles. Their propellant trails quickly dissipated as the Y-wings broke formation and made way for their fighter escort. Nearly half a second passed before the X-Wings each launched their own missiles as directed.

Lucky, his astromech, took control of the fighter as Lok set his mind aside to focus. Just like throwing rocks, he thought. Sweat beaded down his brow as he strained, tense and burdened as he guided nearly two dozen shadow bombs to pepper the area. Ever poignant of those had just lost their lives, the Jedi Shadow never eased up on his focus until they made their mark, exploding wildly just moments after the intruders had pierced the shields.

 

[Farah]

Location: Capital, transport crash site
Objective: Doctor mode ACTIVATE
With: [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

“Of course it did.”

In all honestly, Farah was impressed with Joyce’s stamina. As much as she wouldn’t volunteer the information, the stim could only work so well. The woman had just managed to keep a falling transport from demolishing a city block, so there was probably something more than stimulants at play.

Strangely enough, or perhaps not so strangely, civilians slowly began to filter around the crash site. Some were simply looking, but others stopped to offer what assistance they could. There were less trusting eyes on them, of course. Farah had learned to ignore those. If she let every sneer or suspicious look hinder her—and she got her fair share being a young, female Zeltron doctor—she’d never have made it this far. Joyce and Pythia didn’t appear to be bothered by the nervous and scrutinizing glances.

Most of the crash victims were stable enough to be transported away, many of them still mobile with a limp here and there. Joycelyn’s strength allowed her to shuttle the injured out quickly and over to her handmaiden for healing.

Farah remained inside the wreckage, caring for one unfortunate man who’d received a nasty burn wound to the eyes. His helmet had either come off or was otherwise not on when a piece of wall mounted equipment snapped from the side of the ship, wiring and all. The wires had slashed across his face and left deep, scoring impressions over his eyes.

He was a young man, if she would have even called him that. A boy really, now that Farah had a closer look at him. Clean shaven, likely in his late teens or so. She’d held a cloth soaked in clean water to his eyes immediately, cradling his head in her lab because it was the easiest position for her to tend to his facial wound. Her hand laid over the cloth, fingertips gently pulsing with the Force as she sought the damage of the tissue beneath. It would take a few minutes for her to properly assess the injury, during which a brief conversation took place. Soft and murmured and absentminded as it may be.

“A…Am I blind?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“I…I want to go home.”

“I know.”

 

[Eye of Solomon]

Allies: [member="Tavia Elori"]
Foes: [member="Lok Jorunn"]
Objective: Eliminate Enemy Combatants

Lady Nalryth stalked onto the bridge of the Song of Truth, her tall hairless cranium marking her as unique among the other members of the dreadnought's bridge. Her robes, stark white and trimmed with golden silk thread, trailed behind her on the mundane gray durasteel floor. The battle outside raged as the small rebel wing slipped through the outer perimeter defenses, coming dangerously close to the Song's inner defenses. Commands were shouted across encrypted comm channels as flak guns and point-defense laser cannons angled for accuracy as the fighters and bombers soared ever closer.

The Song possessed its own perimeter fighter guard, but it was only a small portion of the dreadnought's true fighter strength. Several more squadrons were launched to cordon off any possible escape routes now that the Behemoth had engaged its gravity well generators to keep the Crimson Aces from using their hyperdrives to escape.

Then a massive tremor reverberated throughout the dreadnought's hull, causing many of the bridge officers to stumble and lose their footing. The Rebel bombers had managed to sweep in close to drop powerful explosive ordnance onto the Song of Truth's powerful layered shields. The intruder missiles managed to pierce through several layers of shielding before being mitigated by the ionic shields, but before the ruptured gaps could coalesce back together there was a tumultuous explosion of fire and fury as the shadow bombs hit their mark.

Klaxons wailed as everything not bolted down was suddenly siphoned out into the cold vacuum of space, including oxygen and any unfortunate officer in the vicinity of the wound. Ray shielded bulkheads closed to seal off the afflicted decks as repair drones were funneled in through dedicated chutes to repair the physical damage, though the layered shielding would gradually begin to reform as the explosions faded.

Lady Nalryth scowled deeply, obviously displeased the current turn of events. But instead of flying into a pitched tirade of insults and threats, she calmly moved to take a seated position on a raised plinth at the center of the bridge. She crossed both legs and entered a meditative state, letting the Force flow through her body like water through an unblocked stream. Her binary brain opened up to the galaxy around her, sensing the life energies of not only her own crewmembers but also that of the rebel pilots in their tiny fighters and bombers. Like a hawk swooping over a deep ravine, she could see everything unfold in perfect clarity.

So she reached out with her will, like a giant hand sweeping across the metaphysical ravine, and closed it over the bomber pilots. At that instance, needles of indescribable agony would assail their minds as Lady Nalryth sought to infect their senses with imagined horrors, attempting to dig deep to wrench childhood horrors, traumatic experiences, and long thought buried fears and doubts up to the forefront of their thoughts.

Her voice whispered across the vast emptiness of space, "Your rebellion is hopeless," the voice seductively cooed, "Destroy yourselves to escape the agony of existence, your brothers cry out for release from the torment of life. Do not let them suffer." Her power, though incredible by itself, was magnified several degrees by the nature of the Song of Truth, which acted like a supermassive meditation sphere. Bolstered by the added strength, she confidently worked to unravel the bonds of brotherhood that united the rebels in orbit.

 

[Nan'eth'illa]

Spoiler

Multispectrum disguise suite, Lightsabre, Shikkar, Personalised Assassin armour, Personal Shield, Taozin Amulet, Many Cybernetics, and a pair of parrot droids

Location: En route to Space Port
Objective: Protect Assets.
Opponents: [member="Rujat Aola"] [member="Jakkor Kess] [member="Solonariwan Tofusin"] | Non Sith-Imperials | These Jedi Schuttas
Allies: [member="Darth Imperia"] | Sith-Imperial Personell

Only after calling out to Imperia did Darth Filiae truly see that she was speaking to a human, her lightsabre ignited but lowered, stance non-aggressive. She could also see the cylinder in the human's hand. Negotiations.

There were indeed several lacerations on Filiae's body and blood stained the light armour she wore, still she looked at the twi'lek offering her aid as though she had garbled something completely unintelligible. It was not anger on her face as she inspected the twi'lek, but scrutiny. The chiss adjusted her throat a little to better speak and made to reply.

"S͜e͡e͞ t̛o ͝th̸e ̕o̕ţher̸s̀ f́iŕst,͏ ͠I̢ w̧il̴l ma̕ǹa͏g̵e.͡"

It would seem her voice was very difficult to pick up now, which was inconvenient, but not more than she could handle.

The metal that had hovered in front of the chiss had, by now, morphed into a crude prosthesis with a jagged-looking claw for a hand that floated over to Filiae's shoulder socket and twisted itself into the broken remnants, causing a spurt of blood and several small sparks. Through the Force, she was able to give it rudimentary movement. She could bend the elbow and rotate the shoulder; she could extend and contract. That was what she needed at the moment. When she didn't focus on it, the arm simply remained in place, stiff and unnatural.

Her eyes went to a man who had stopped in a speeder, pushed his way through and made contact with the twi'lek that had offered to heal her. The area was fairly small and there was no apparent effort to remaining quiet, additionally, Filiae could sense the anger rolling off him as he asked if the Sith had created this chaos.

She approached as she adjusted the newly affixed arm, a scrutinising look on her face as she tried to read both him and the twi'lek. She had no reason to doubt her before, but now? There were questions.

"We͠ ̕did̕ ͘n̕ót. ̀It͘ ͝wa͠s̛ an͝ a͠c͡t o͢f ter̶ror̨i͏sm,͏ ͜pe͏rformed̵ by ̀a̢ ͢J̛edi"

While her voice was cracked and synthetic, her tone was quiet, but firm. Her words carried conviction and a quiet intensity as she observed the pair, one-eyed and unblinking. The other socket an empty pit.

"Çi̴vilian, I̴ m͜ust ask͝ ̴t͜h͞a̢t y͟oú s̀t̴ep a̕w͢a͏y ͢fro͜m t̕h̸e͘ m̸e͝d͏icàl p̢e͜r͘sone͘l͜l ͡and̴ ̀lét͢ ̷ţhe͡m ͏wor̸k"

While commanding in her presence, she was also not directly threatening, not with words nor stance or actions. The cylinder in her hand was inactive, the hook turned away. To most fighters, she would look as though she was entirely off guard, a ruse of course. That was how her Csen'ai had trained her; to never look ready but always be.

 

[LT-137]

Location: Tradeport Entrance.
Primary Objective: Reclaim the Trade Port.
Secondary Objective: Search for Survivors.
Equipment: See Signature. (Sidearm replaced with KD-30 and Xenoboric Slugs.)
NPC Complement: One FAV (Destroyed), One Sun Guard Cohort (Four in total. Three Characters and One NPC.)

Allies: The Sith Empire, [member="Tabigarashu Madara"], [member="Koda Fett"], [member="Ikilwa Arregai"], [member="Vilaz Munin"], [member="Apophis Natuu"], [member="Darth Saarai"].
Enemies: Unmarked Hostiles (Republic Remnant, Fel Imperium, The Rebellion.) [member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"], [member="Ursula Toher"], @Owazza.

~ “I have a rendezvous with death, at some disputed barricade…” ~​

The magnetically accelerated round had caught him in the shoulder, bursting through the overlapping kinetic barriers and burying itself into the segmented plates that formed his pauldron. As the impact rolled through his muscular physique, bruising the muscular flesh beneath the burnished plates, the Thyrsian’s footing was stolen - casting him to the ground in a clatter of armoured war-plate. He struck the ground, hard, and watched impassively as his helmet-shrouded vision swam with a blended sensory mixture of static and pain. This was far from a pleasant sensation and had it not been for the newly injected adrenals flowing through his veins, it would’ve warranted more than a dismissive grunt. Sure, Khonsu would be in for a rough time after the euphoric haze had lifted, but in the meantime? Everything was numbed by the specialized cocktail coursing through his system.

The battle and resulting explosions that occurred in tandem with one another were inconsequential as the Sun Guard fought his own quaking body to find purchase and rejoin the fight.

When the crumbling anchorage beside him had given way to a mixture of carbon-scoring and high-velocity rounds, the mercenary was forced to crawl across the floor - as the walls behind him vanished in a flash of light and fire - only to be filled by the faceless ranks of the Empire’s Inquisitorial elite. Their ivory robes billowed in the newly created tempest and drew the ire of the insurgents entrenched within, to which was countered with a kaleidoscopic swoop of their collective plasmatic-tipped pikes. It would’ve been an enthralling sight to behold, had the man’s sight not been despoiled by the sensory overload brought about by the stimulants surging through his veins. Their bright colours were difficult to look at, even behind the glasteel shroud of his helmet’s visor, which brought forth the tendrils of a concussive migraine that would take root should he continue staring at their measured advance.

~ “It may be it shall take my hand, and lead me into his dark land.” ~​

They swept over him like he was nothing, not even giving the mercenary a cursory glance as they fought and died around him. It was of little surprise, the Sun Guard managed to think, as they had things of greater importance to concern themselves with. Their plasmatic edges dances throughout the dust, and smoke-strewn atmosphere as they moved into the facility, reflecting what projected fury they could, or being subsumed by it whenever they couldn’t bring their weapons about in time. The Inquisitorial forces weren’t the only ones to perish in those moments that followed their entrance, as one of the Sun Guard’s Cohort had been caught in the open with his barrier depleted. A high-velocity bolt, much like the ones he had been previously firing, had caught him in the throat - blowing apart in a shower of crimson water and glistening viscera.

In the moments after the man collapsed over the barricade that one protected him from the hail of bolts thrown his way, Khonsu felt a flicker of rage flutter through his drugged mind. He wanted nothing more than to avenge his fallen comrade, but instead, it seemed that the torch was taken by another under his command. The vehicle that had borne them into this hellscape was torn from its proverbial grave and tossed towards the mercenary’s killer, doubtlessly seeking to take the walking carpet out of the fight in one manner or another. Blinking in surprise as his pulsating vision caught sight of the fading telepathic tendrils that had gripped the vehicle, he could’ve sworn that he caught sight of a black armoured figure chasing after their sundered transport. If this was true, then it was more than likely their fallen brother would see another clutch of enemy combatants chase him into the afterlife.

However, that flicker of rage at the sight of his fallen kin took root within the man’s mind and began to swiftly encapsulate his every thought.

~ “And close my eyes, and quench my breath -” ~​

There was an old artistic phrase that existed amongst those who wrote of war, and it’s many horrors. In their eyes, they believed that a soldier who witnessed the death of a loved one, or someone they held dearly, would become subsumed by the tidal waves of anger rushing through their body. An unstoppable deluge that stole all reasoning from their mind, and painted everything they could see in shades of red. Well, they were spot on, as Khonsu’s partially trained mind gave itself over to anger and was unable to resist the tantalizing torrent of power that it promised. The man felt his taloned digits clench, as the injected adrenals mixed with his body’s own natural supply, tightening into resplendent armoured fists. It was a dangerous abyss for a man with the untapped potential to walk off the edge of reasoning, but at that point in time? Khonsu didn’t care.

This fight should’ve been over with already, and every second that the two forces kept trading blows seemed to stretch on for an eternity.

It infuriated him. This pitched battle needed to end, as his men were slowly running on empty. The mass-driven rounds and xenoboric slugs would only get them so far, and with the new positions that a collection of droids had taken on the floor above? Things were starting to look grim. Even with the reinforcements brought by the Sith Empire, it was too early to tell who had the upper hand. That infuriated him as well. Everything that transpired within the entranceway of the Tradeport seemingly fueled his rising ire, tensing his muscular frame to the point that felt like they would burst through his armour at any given moment. Such a sensation had driven the Sun Guard to his feet, finally finding the strength to rise from his entombed state, before his gaze had befallen a silver-bladed Knight nearby.

Through his eyes, Khonsu saw the figure shrouded in crimson as his eyes were stained with the pulsating fury that coursed within his veins. This man would die. He would feel the rising tempest that burned within his breast and feel the caged anguish that rippled through his soul. These insurgents had taken one of his men and thrown him into an early grave, but he wouldn’t be going alone.

~ “I have a rendezvous with death, and I - to my pledged word am true…” ~​

In one, smooth motion, the Twisuns Legate drew his crystalline sword from a blackened scabbard and charged towards the Knight. His teeth were clenched, and small measures of foam began leaking out between the exposed cracks, spilling down the length of his neatly trimmed beard. Hatred propelled him forward as one foot after another had found purchase across the treacherous ground, and ignoring the sharp pain that spiralled up his ankle as the muscle was rolled when a golden boot found the debris shifting underneath its weight. More froth poured forth from his lips as he surged forward. There was so much adrenaline within his enraged mind that he didn’t notice the spike of agony that rippled through his calf. It was in the moments afterwards that the Knight had caught sight of his foe, and felt the radiant anger permeating through the aetheric tides of the Force. He felt no fear as the bestial Sun Guard advanced, as the man was confident that his mastery over his silvered blade would see him through the impending assault.

However, what he didn’t expect, was to die screaming at the man’s hands, when a crystalline blade was replaced by the kiss of projected fire. The voracious tongues of flickering orange and red danced across his armoured surface, latching onto the weaved bodysuit beneath and igniting the material. Khonsu laughed as the man started to tear at his armour, seeking to quench the flames in whatever manner he could. It was in the moment, when the silvered sabre was extinguished, that the crystalline blade had found itself buried in the man’s flesh. The envenomed surface deposited its toxin into the wound, and coupled with the agony of being burned alive? The Knight roared in the twinned tones of fear and torment. The crimson sword glistened, as the man’s life began to wash across it’s knapped surface, only to be drowned in the arterial surge that spat forth when the weapon was yanked free.

His hatred remained strong, pulsating behind his eyes with a migraine-inducing fury. He needed to kill, to bathe his adrenal-strengthened physique in torrents of blood. These insurgents would make for fine prey, and as he was amongst their number now, it wouldn’t be long until they shared the fate of his subordinate. “Let them come,” Khonsu whispered through gritted teeth.

“Let them taste the fiery wrath of the Sun.”

~ “I shall not fail that rendezvous.” ~​

 

[Darth Bellum]

Kor Vexen

---

---

Location | Lower Districts
Objective | Purge any Resistance
Company | Five Sith Assassins, Single SE-K9 'Fang'

Vexen watched as the Jedi was able to draw the Force Lightning from four different directions at once with his saber. Not bad, that would require some considerable skill and awareness to pull off. Based off of the lack of reaction that was received from the lightning that did manage to slip past the saber defense it was noted that the suit the Jedi wore seemed to defend from electrical attacks as well. The Force Lightning was quickly deflected off into the Sith Assassin that had been sent flying, sending powerful currents throughout their body as they let out a scream. Smoke would rise from their body as they hit the ground motionless after having been rendered unconscious from the electrocution. The Sith that was being swung at would raise his own saber in defense, his crimson blade clashing against the Jedi's, maintaining a firm stance as he held his ground while his three remaining comrades began to circle around and box the Jedi into a smaller field to maneuver. One was equipped with a double bladed lightsaber, another wielded a pair and the last two, including the one Kamon was engaged with wielded a single saber.

As Jaminerean rebels began to move, skirmishes would break out between them and Legion forces, however, due to the Legion's superior training while the Jaminerean rebels lacked the resources to effectively combat and counter the elite soldiers. However, they were slowing down a considerable number of reinforcements heading to the communications hub, leaving only a few to remain on their path directly to the hub. Back to the battle at hand, the Sith Assassins continued to advance on Kamon, spinning their blades to cover a large area, ready this time if the Jedi attempted to use the Force to push them away. As Vexen watched, he would raise his left hand up just above his waist, the sparking pieces of the Fangs beginning to shift and move towards the Sith General.

~​

[member="Kamon Vondiranach"]​

 

[Kira Vaal]

Location: Sewers
Objective: Fight Resist R E B E L
Allies: Rebels - [member="Atlas Viridian"] | [member="Icarus Volcata"] | [member="Kirie Ito"]
Enemies: The Sith Empire | [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Xevek Rakama"] | [member="Darth Ferus"] | [member="Zahori Denko"] | [member="Leliana"]

Her initial attack had caused little damage, two smoking holes in the nearby wall and a third on the ceiling that had filled the room with the slight smell of burning air, not that Kira would be able to smell it through her mask. Her saber, was held aloft by the red blade of her opponent with a particular sense of unnatural ease, the two beams crackling angrily together as the energy that made up their blades tried to over-power the other.

He made some quip, something about a Jedi with a blaster. Naturally the Sith were used to facing against more traditional enemies such as the New Jedi of the Galactic Alliance, or the Silver’s. Kira was not either of them, nor did she make any intention to present herself as such. A smirk crept beneath her mask, unseen to the Sith.

“Times change.” Her words would be matched with his own again as he called out to the new addition who had come through the grate. This allowed her to feel the other more calming accompaniment that was Kirie, the idea that she wasn’t completely alone giving the rebel hope. She pulled the saber away and fell to a knee, swinging the blade in an arch across what would hopefully be his exposed knees.

Her blaster would be dropped, fingers immediately curling to take hold of the other with the Force and if unchallenged yank her back towards Kirie where she could be accounted for and unable to pursue the team currently moving upwards through the building.

“You need to adapt.” If he wanted words she would give him words. “Old man.”

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Location: Sewers
Opponent: The Jedi/Sith/can't make his mind up guy

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cAfP5BMKgjc

She allowed him to use the Force on her some more. Yes it angered her and yes she wanted to retaliate - but in many ways it was as if he was charging up a battery for her - one she could use to draw on the dark side. The more he pushed and aggravated, the more he expended his own energy and the more he fuelled hers.

"That definition of a Sith certainly fits you from where I'm looking. And I think anyone that comes along will see the same thing." She shifted uncomfortably in the sewage she was currently sitting in.

"I mean, I might have done some bad things in my time - I'm not going to pretend any different. But killing someone in cold blood? Someone defenceless like me?" She cocked her head to one side, as if to weigh up the magnitude of the statement.

"I think you hide your true nature behind the convenient tag rebel. I'm just someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and you're justifying your bullying behaviour on being some sort of hero. Well, let m tell you, you're no karin' saviour. You're a killer. Whatever you think you're fighting for, trust me, you're ten time worse."

[member="Zek Koth"]

 

[Kamon's OOC]

Location: Somewhere Near the Comms Hub
Allies: [member="Cedric Grayson"] and Co.
Enemies: [member="Kor Vexen"]

The assassin managed to get his blade up to block, but he only had one. Kamon had two. And the other one came around to stab at his side while the Sith's blade was tied up. Kamon would then spin away from the assassin, by spinning directly around him with some relatively effortless footwork. The other three were moving in with their blades, but he wasn't worried. Nor did a sideways glance at the Sith worry him. Though he did see that butts of broken Droid were being drawn to him.

So he finally decided to do something. It took him long enough. It was a sign of a poor leader that he waited at the back while his forces we're destroyed. Especially when that leader had the power to stop it. More reality for the rest of the Galaxy to see. If Sith didn't even care about their own troops, why would they be bothered to care about the people they conquered? People would start realizing that the Sith weren't good eventually. Their propoganda narrative wasn't going to work for them forever.

He knew what was coming, too. So as he faced off with the remaining in assassin's, moving as they moved, he maneuvered to put them between himself and Kor. He didn't attack further for the moment either. Instead he focused the majority of his attention on tracking the way the remainder of the Sith's forces moved. He studied how they moved together in order to determine how they would ultimately attack him, and set them up for how he would end up killing them.

They were going to die. They just didn't realize it.

 

[Darth Ferus]

Location: ​Capital Annex - Capitol Building

Objective: Eliminate Rebels

Allies: TSE - [member="Leliana"] | [member="Zahori Denko"] | [member="Xevek Rakama"] [member="Darth Carnifex"]

Enemies: Rebels - [member="Kirie Ito"] | [member="Kira Vaal"] | [member="Atlas Viridian"] | [member="Icarus Volcata"] (+Anyone else going for the Capitol Building)

Gear: In signature | Durgen

"So they do." But people remain the same. A halfhearted smile continued to play on the Zabrak's face as the Jedi continued her assault, but instead of trying to defend the elder left himself open. A single step back of his left leg had his right in her line of fire, and for good reason. The durasteel covered leg would have been easy to cut through if not for the layer of Cortosis below. It was a simple trick the Sith had learned from an old mentor so many years ago, and should she continue her attack her saber would be no more for a time.

A time he would capitalize on.

Should his leg do it's job Darth Ferus would be free to focus on offence instead of mixing it with defense. He brought down his saber in both hands, aiming to cleave the kneeling Jedi in two with the powerful overhead slam before her quick escape to the apprentice who had also stayed behind.

 

[Cassandra Paige]

Location: Antigone Communications (formerly Jaminere Communications Consolidated), Palace District
Allies: TSE, [member="Itash Mecetti"] [member="Jacen Vadith"] [member="Tsisaar Taral"] [member="Sebastian Thel"] [member="Llkt'tudrin'wyshd"]
Enemies: Rebels, [member="Cedric Grayson"] [member="Cenric Marus"] [member="Lyra Sarn"] [member="Ari Vox"] [member="Jax Vandal"]
Current Objective: Deal with the Home Invaders
Current Mood: "HA GOT HIM!- oh chit"

Spoiler

Gear: Stylish suit. Killer heels. Paddle Beamer.

There were moments when everything seemed to go right. As soon as she pulled the trigger the second time, she knew that her shot was a good one. There was a satisfaction in that moment that she hadn't been expecting. Straight and true and dead center of his che-

"I thought you said this thing bypassed shields Tash!"

It wasn't merely annoyance in her tone, she was down right insulted by the turn of the situation it seemed. To be fair, she was exactly that, but that's what happens when narcissistic psychopaths think they are getting what they want and then suddenly do not.

"Little busy!"

He really, really was.

The hum of the lightsabers, the crackle of lightening, weapons firing- the room had gone from a tense standstill to pure, unadulterated kinetic energy. With the easing of the Malacia, several of the employees started to shift and stir, though most were still and silent. She couldn't get a clear shot at the people behind him, and his head was ensconced in a helmet- Itash had trained her specifically to not take a headshot with the paddle beamer because of how deadly it was (and this was for defense, dear Cass, no reason to have that on your hands, not at least, until he was ready for it to be, not that she knew). If his face had been in view however? She would have zapped him right in it, lethality be damned.

"CASS! Shoot him!"

She made an annoyed sound in her throat.

"With what? The toy you gave me?"

"JUST DO SOMETHING WOMAN!"

"FINE!"

Reaching down, Cass pulled off her heels. And threw them, one after another, straight at Cedric's head.

It was surprisingly satisfying but the satisfaction was short lived. It wasn't a particular natural action in combat, and the large motions combined with the focus on Cedric left her open for one of Ari's shots.

It hit her just as she let the second shoe fly, and the momentum from that combined with the stun bolt spun her around. She collapsed bonelessly to the floor. Stun bolts were funny things- different people had slightly different reactions to them. For some it knocked them utterly unconscious, which was, Cass realized, a blessing. Because some people remained completely aware, simply unable to move, unable to act. Up until now, it had never occurred to her to wonder which one she would be.

Entirely paralyzed and yet aware of everything going on around her. It was like Raykka all over again. Literal nightmare fuel. Her heart hammered too fast in her chest, remembering, the sensation too similar- he had used the force to keep her still as he had literally cooked and eaten parts of her as she watched. This was not the same situation, but the similarity of feeling was too great. Fear was an unfamiliar sensation for one Cassandra Paige, but this level of helplessness was too close to that one before. Tainted by that experience, she could do nothing but watch- could not move to draw calming breaths, could not act to calm herself. But neither could the tremors from those memories make their way to her hands. There was no outlet for reliving Raykka.

So the only place it had to stay was seated right behind those grey eyes. The terror there was out of place, even in the chaos of the communications hub. But there was no where else for it to go.

Summary/TLR- After being annoyed her paddle beamer wasn't working, Cass threw her heels at Cedric's head, then went down to a shot from Ari and has flash backs to Raykka.

 

[H3xle]

Location: Jaminere Orbit


Role: Escort Song of Truth
Ship: S.I.V. Desecrator (Scorpion Squadron, Mamba Squadron, Cobra Squadron, Demon Squadron)
Allies: TSE, [member="eye of solomon"]
Enemies: Insurgents, [member="lok jorunn"]

Tavia watched on the holo-screen as the bombers missiles pierced the shields of Song of Truth, followed by a mind numbing moment as the Jedi Shadow Bombs were detonated. Huge rents in the Saaraishash flagship belched forth valuable atmosphere, crew, and anything not nailed down before emergency bulkheads closed off the wounds. Tavia's nostrils flared, though that was the only vanity she would give to her anger. Anger was her tool, it did not control her.

"Arm Ion torpedoes. Lock onto the X-Wings as primary targets, Bombers are secondary." The Ion torpedoes would lock onto a fighter and ride it's tail until it either got shaken off or it detonated on the tiny ships hull.

At the same time as her order, the edge of her holo-screen turned a dark red. The massive dreadnought with rents in it's side had activated gravity wells, disabling any ship in the vicinity from using hyperspace as an easy exit.

Then Tavia felt Lady Nalryth, echoes of her compulsion rang through the Force nearby, and a cruel smile played along Tavia's lips. A part of her wanted to focus her own prowess in the force to amplify Lady Nalryth's play, but her addition was nothing compared to how the Song of Truth amplified the power. Instead, the Captain of the Desecrator focused on the tangible world, watching as her fighters continued to harass the Crimson Aces as her ion torpedoes closed in.

 

[Tabigarashu Madara]

Location: Trade Port
Objective: Hide in the pocketses
Allies: TSE [member="Darth Saarai"] [member="Koda Fett"] [member="Khonsu Amon"] [member="Ikilwa Arregai"] [member="Vilaz Munin"]
Enemies: Rebels [member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"] [member="Ursula Toher"] [member="Owazza"]

"You saved me, Hirou. You will have my blade and my wing for the rest of our lives."

Curled up into a small ball in Tai Fa's pocket, Hirou felt safe. The location, the words- Hirou had pledged themselves to Tai Fa when they had taken service, but the same in response left the little creature warm from the tip of their nose to the end of their tail.

"A moment or a lifetime," came the small reply. Reaffirming their own promise.

In truth, they were only as safe as Tai Fa himself was. But there was pure and utter faith in the Thirriken. It didn't matter what they were facing. Tai Fa could be counted on, always.

Immortal? No.

It wasn't that Hirou expected to live through this. As a Nezumi, the prospect of a swift and violent death in a galaxy of creatures so very much bigger than them was simply a reality. From the earliest days, Hirou knew that someday they would die- either because they were not quick and clever enough, or because of the aggression those those so much bigger than they were.

No, the faith was that Tai Fa would never leave Hirou to die alone.

Not if he could make it in time.

In truth, there was nothing the little Nezumi could do for their larger friend in this instance. Despite the honorary title of 'Knight', Hirou had no gifts with the Force. They were not big and strong. Not tall or wise. They could not throw lightening or return heavy fire with blasters or bombs.

No, all Hirou could do was stay safe. The utter din and chaos outside of Tai's pocket could be felt by the small creature. Every shake every vibration, every shriek of metal or cacophony of explosions. Hirou stayed safe, and offered the only thing they could.

The warmth of a friend.

And faith.

 

[Progflaw99]

​

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-​

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Capitol Annex - Capitol Building - Stairs​

Allies: [member="Kirie Ito"] | [member="Icarus Volcata"] | [member="Zek Koth"] | [member="Jakkor Kess"] | [member="Kira Vaal"] | Rebellion​

Enemies: The Sith Empire | [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Xevek Rakama"] | [member="Darth Ferus"]​

[member="Zahori Denko"] | [member="Leliana"]​

​

-​

​

As the first stun blast cackled harmlessly against the Sith's crimson blade Atlas was gripped with unease. His anger had driven him, his frustration the prod, but now facing down an enemy who wielded not only the speed but also possessing unknown abilities... Atlas felt quite suddenly, out of his depth. The second blast fired from the barrel of his weapon flew high over his foe as the man dropped towards the floor. Harmlessly the sizzle of energy dissipating fizzled out against the wall of the corridor - Atlas was out of time. Oddly, thought Atlas, his enemy seemed to have dropped his saber to the floor, red glow disappearing, casting the stairwell into a mess of dim shadows again.

An expression of fear, genuine fear and uncertainty crossed the pilot's usually impassive features. Everything had been going well, or at least by a measure, and now? Time seemed to slow as the Sith both dodged and rolled from the second blast, it was in that moment of hesitation that Atlas felt something not wholly natural. An oppressive force began to build, it felt like someone pointing a finger at the center of his chest and pressing. Slow at first, little more than a touch but in an instant as his perception of time accelerated back to the present he felt a sudden crack. Pain laced up his side, sucking the wind from his lungs as the pilot's feet rose from the ground and he felt himself propelled into the air.

The pain in his side erupted, a pained cry escaping his lips, muffled by the mask he wore. A fleeting thought to those behind him crossed Atlas' mind. He'd been about to take the topmost stair when the telekinetic blast had hit him full force. *A rib. At least one.* Already he'd begun to take mental stock of his injuries but was interrupted as his flight was terminated against the solid wall of the stairwell. Lungs already empty from the initial blast, he slid down the wall into a crumpled form. Fire burned inside his lungs as he painfully attempted to breathe in to no avail. *Come on Atlas, you've had worse.* Again he attempted to breathe in, his body fighting him tooth and nail. It it took a moment before he could try again, pain threatening to send him over the brink into unconsciousness. What was happening around him fell to the proverbial wayside as he struggled to supply himself with oxygen. Hands grasped at his mask, frantically checking the connections - everything felt good... except his lungs. *Oh fething hell.*

Oxygen was reaching his lungs but still he felt short of breath. With each inhale he could feel the ribs along his side protest, cut short of a full breath and instead met with a gasp. He could feel it now without a doubt. He'd broken enough ribs to know that feeling but this was more. His lung had collapsed, or at least partially. Where his blaster rifle had gone he didn't know, he wasn't sure he cared. Sitting there on the floor his mind was torn in a thousand directions. Only one course of action seemed certain - they needed to run. Whether poor luck or providence, they'd been stalled, their window of opportunity slammed shut. The real question Atlas grappled with was: What more could be gained?

Already they'd made a statement, that the Sith worlds weren't safe from independent thought, that not every world would simply bow when asked to do so. Every war had its spark, every revolution of thought had its revelation, for just as many rebellions and revolutions that were attempted, just as many if not more had been squashed or snuffed out. There was nothing more for them here, not now - nothing but death. Hoarsely he shouted as best he could, a pained breath between his words.

"We have to... Leave now..."​

​

Searching, Atlas' eyes strained to see past the stars swirling in his vision. With a forced cough, he pushed himself to his feet and reached to his belt. There, tucked in a small pouch was a device that would see them cast free into the streets - it had been intended for other use but given the current situation, he could see little point in delaying further. With a quick manipulation and a few painful breaths, Atlas slapped the device onto the wall, adhesive keeping it there. A small shaped charge, designed for breaching. If he'd calculated correctly the blast would open a hole large enough for them to scramble through, right out to the street. Atlas let himself slump to the floor once more, a weary breath escaping his lips, words loud enough for his fellow rebels to hear.

"Fire in the hole!"​

 

[Zek Koth]

Location: The Sewers
Allies: Rebels
Enemies: Little Red; [member="Jantar Keltainen"]

She really did have a mouth on her. It ran a mile a minute, too. He'd never heard someone talk so much when they were faced with imminent demise. Frankly, he hadn't realized the Sith were so pathetic that all they did was teach their apprentices to whine. That wasn't something he was used to. Sure, people would plead for their life when faced with death, but she wasn't doing that. She was just whining that he was the bad guy. This horse hockey narrative from the Sith was annoying.

"Go run home to your mother, kid," he said, making a shooing motion with his free hand. "You're too pathetic to be a Sith."

He had a mind to play a game with her now, so he turned his back on her knowing that she would likely see it as a good time to strike. In fact, he even started walking away from her, heading in the direction where he'd just heard an explosion nearby. As he moved, though, and only the well astute would notice this, he changed the grip on his saber to a reverse grip. He was keeping a watch on her via the Force, but he wasn't really seeming to pay her much mind as he moved away.

Maybe she'd finally be quiet and fight. If not, he figured it was probably time to go meet up with [member="Atlas Viridian"] and crew and get out of dodge. He'd held his end of the plan up, keeping them safe from the rear while they infiltrated. He'd also distracted the girl from figuring out what was going on. Getting annoyed in the process was just part of the game, it would see.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

OBJECTIVE: Protect Citizens of Jaminere.
ALLIES: Pythia Sybilla, [member="Farah"]
OPPONENTS: Smoke and stuff.

Spoiler

Gear on person: Joycelyn's Tyrant Armour | 2x Ion Grenades | Zaudraka | Spear | Sidearm | Scroll

Joycelyn looked around her, seeing the many men and women treating the wounded, words being exchanged, some in fear and some in new hope. In the middle of it all stood Joycelyn, a pillar of blackened phrik and the dark side of the Force. She felt a burning sensation on her hip, where Zaudraka rested in her belt. With her attention less occupied by the panicked need to rescue her fellow Legionaries.

She stepped away from the crowd and opened the visor of her helm. It opened at the mouth as overlapping plates slid over each other and stretched the maw around her face. Joyce touched the hilt of her sword and felt that it was angry, impatient, thirsty. Gingerly, she drew the first third of it, just to see herself reflected in the shine of her blade.

"You hunger." You linger, Vornskr. Promises. "We need to help these people, our people. We defeat the Jedi by standing together." You sound like Jedi. "This is war. War is fought on every front, not just the battlefield." "Without the people's trust, we have no armies." The might of your armies is irrelevant to the power of the Force. "Maybe"

She felt his dark hands wrap around her face and cloud her vision. A mighty surge of hatred pulsed through her veins and drew her gaze to the only place it would see clear; the communications tower, recently purchased by a pair of private agents. Wasn't one of them that GenPals chick? Cassandra something or other.. [member="Cassandra Paige"]? Yes, that was it.

She looked back at the troops on the ground and the doctor tending to them, they all appeared blurred and it was a struggle to keep her head craned in such a way. Her jaw clenched as she let her gaze be drawn to the tower once more.

"Why?" An abomination. Hunger. Jedi. Kill.

Zaudraka's voice intensified in her mind. She closed her eyes to shut him out. It was painful and she was tired. Her eyes screwed shut as she put a hand to her temple and gaped in a silent scream. Blood poured down from her left nostril.

Eclipse the light

"Not at this cost." Any cost! "Patience."

The pain subsided and Joycelyn fell to her knees with a massive clank. The sword was cold again, retreating from his attempts at forcing Joycelyn into a rage. She was tired, weary. She couldn't feel her eyelids any more.

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Immediately Nearby Allies: [member="Jax Vandal"] | [member="Lyra Sarn"] | [member="Ari Vox"] | [member="Cenric Marus"]

Immediately Nearby Enemies: [member="Itash Mecetti"], [member="Jacen Vadith"], [member="Tsisaar Taral"], [member="Sebastian Thel"], [member="Cassandra Paige"], [member="Llkt'tudrin'wyshd"]

The force worked in mysterious ways.

Cedric had been deathly sure of his approach. Few Sith expected such an aggressive fighting style from a Jedi Knight, but this one had an eye for the unusual. Their blades clashed with a flurry of sparks and energy, their contest as much a physical one as it was within the force. The empyrean shook with the force of their clash, energies of both Ashla and Bogan intermingling in a chaotic symbiosis where their blades met. The knight was utterly focused on his current task, driving every bit of physical force he could muster into his arms and down the length of the blade. He called upon the empyrean's energies to greatly enhance his own physical prowess, and soon the clash turned in his favor. The knight had been sure that his weapon would decapitate the supposed Sith and that would be that, but things rarely worked so simply.

It was all the Jedi could do to curse in surprise as a wall of telekinetic force slammed into him. The blast of energy sent him flying from his feet, and careening into the adjacent wall with a force that likely would have killed most. Had he not called upon the empyrean for protection, it would have surely been his end. As things were, the impact jarred the entirety of his body, cracking outer portions of the plating the covered his form as well. He felt the sharp coppery taste of blood in his mouth, though he could not pinpoint the source unless he removed his helmet.

He remained there for a moment, utterly dazed. It was only when he felt his friend in danger that Cedric was stirred from his painful stupor. His connection with [member="Ari Vox"]'s mind allowed him to experience the horrors [member="Itash Mecetti"] unleashed upon her. They seeped through the connection, infecting his own mind. Even still, Cedric was ever the mentalist, and confident he could take the entirety of the assault before Ari could suffer -

Another curse fell from his lips as something heavy dinged against his head. A second object followed shortly thereafter, sending his already dazed his spinning.

His thoughts drifted from his current surroundings to their situation in general. Had he still been using the Blade of Ruusan, such obscure thoughts would have been dispelled, but the weapon lay inert a foot or two from his fingertips. He felt its presence calling to him from the edge of the void, but it was far too quiet to hear properly.

"Are you done with this?" A disembodied voice rumbled in the back of Cedric's mind. Somewhere in his consciousness, Cedric knew this hallucination was the result of the dark master's foul influence. "You waste your time here. You are my son. Your weren't born to die fighting for strangers. It's not befitting of a Grayson."

Cedric parted his lips to speak, but his connection with his physical form had temporarily ceased. He was in his own head, for the moment. All around him, the comm hub faded from view. His worry for his friends dissipated with it, replaced by a cold sensation of dread that washed over Cedric's like a foul mist. Now, he found himself seated beneath a burning oak tree. All around him were the signs of a recent battle. The skies were choked with ash, and the forest around him had been burnt to cinders. Bodies were arranged before him in neat piles, their blood having baptized this place as a testament to the horrors that had taken place here.

The knight looked down at himself, only to find his form had been replaced with that of a child. It seemed as if he hadn't aged a day since the last time he had come here. Before Cedric stood the source of the voice; a figure entombed in armor much like his own, though the robes were dark as midnight. It was armor that Cedric knew well.

"Dad?" His voice was that of a child's.

The cowled figure inclined its head. "Boy," Mephirium pointed a clawed finger at his progeny. "It is time to end this charade. You've played at being a Jedi long enough, but you'll perish here if you keep holding yourself back. You, your padawan, and every other friend you've brought here to die." His father's voice lacked the compassion Cedric had remembered it to hold. He'd never had the chance to speak with Mephirium after his fall to the Dark Side; to see his father so warped was truly mortifying.

When Cedric did not speak, Mephirium drew forward. The Sith Lord fell to one knee, and took the child's hand in his own. "I know how difficult it can be to give it up Cedric," the specter's voice softened, "But we aren't good people son. We're not," Mephirium shook his head. "Your mother was an imperial soldier. Your grandfather was a moff in the navy of the very people you choose to fight. We don't believe in that petty morality, but we both know that it can be enforced. With power, we can make people kinder, better. Our ancestors might have been mistaken in their allegiance, but our blood is strong my son. I saw the truth. I embraced the Dark Side, and I destroyed every obstacle in my path because of it. Take that power for yourself Cedric. You can be the Sith Lord that I could never be. You can bring peace to our home."

The boy stared into the darkness of Mephirium's cowl. He saw no face there, nothing at all save for an unnatural and all consuming darkness. His father's taloned hand felt cold to the touch.

"You see how it changed you?" Sadness filled the boy's voice. "You left us dad. You went off to fight a war that didn't need you. You let mom die, you let them take Caida, you didn't even attend your own mother's funeral." There was pain in Cedric's voice; a real and visceral agony that he knew he would likely never again experience. To see his father, his role model, reduced to such a state of belief was...truly horrible. It felt as if someone had murdered the man right in front of him; in a way Mephirium had done just that. In consuming Cyril Grayson, Mephirium had ensured that the Jedi Master remained dead forever. Even in the afterlife, he had not found peace.

"If I die here, I'd rather do it with my integrity. I'm going to be a better person than you: a better Jedi, a better father, a better...well, everything," Tears rolled down the child's cheeks. "Leave."

That single word dispelled the hallucination. Cedric returned to reality, only to find that his episode had only lasted mere seconds. It all came rushing back: the smell of sulfur in the air, the screaming technicians, the dark sider that had infected him with such a vile vision.

His friends.

With great effort on Cedric's part, the Jedi Knight rose to his feet. The Blade of Ruusan responded to his call immediately, flying into his open palm with the eagerness of a lost companion. It roared as it came to life, seemingly resplendent with the light that now filled Cedric's heart. In that moment, Cedric Grayson knew nothing but resolve. He called out into the force, seeking to dispel the mental assaults that likely beleaguered his two companions. At the same time, he strode forward, the empyrean's energies filling his wounded limbs and allowing him a degree of stamina that should have been lost to him after sustaining Itash's point blank telekinetic blow.

Even with his armor cracking around him, Cedric did not falter in his march.

"You almost had me there for a moment," the knight came to a halt a few paces away from [member="Itash Mecetti"], his blade pointed toward his opponent in open challenge. Cedric was well aware of the conflict between rebel and imperial forces outside. They only had a sliver of time before things got too hairy for him to predict an outcome. The three of them would have to buy [member="Lyra Sarn"] as much time as they could.

The Blade of Ruusan almost seemed to challenge Itash as well, it's bright blue blade flickering with unrestrained energy as it was pointed toward the man that had harmed its wielder. "Ari, go take care of Lyra. Padawan Marus and I will deal with the Sith."

In the back of Cedric's mind, the knight received [member="Kamon Vondiranach"]'s communication. The rogue master spoke of soldiers approaching. Cedric cast that knowledge aside, knowing it would only serve to worry him further. They would have to rely on the rebels fighting beyond the hub to stall for as long as they could.

He returned his attentions to the present, particularly to Itash. "Last chance to surrender."

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Location: The Sewers
Allies: Songs about the sewers and/or the underground
Enemies: Is he is or is he ain’t a Sith?

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CwVqOs3Aess

Jantar burst into tears. Were they genuine ones? Kind of. She was a drama queen after all, and had learned to turn them on from her formative years. Even entirely spoiled little rich kids get told no sometimes — and it was not something Jantar tolerated. In fact she had zero tolerance for anything that did not have her needs as the first, foremost and only outcomes.

Had he touched a nerve with his words? In truth no — but the truth never got in the way of a good bit of acting from Jantar. And given her lies would be based entirely on truths, it would make it all the more believable.

“I…I…I…I…don’t have….a…mother,” she sobbed — uncontrollably now — so much so that her nose began to run too. “How…could…you…say…such…a…thing? I…knew…the Sith…were…mean…and…spiteful, but…to…throw…the…fact…that…I’ve…been…an…orphan…my…entire…life…in…my…face?”

And then she wailed — loud enough for people on the surface to hear no doubt. And the tears kept flowing.

[member="Zek Koth"]

 

[Ras Val'kor]

Immediate Allies: [member="Lyra Sarn"] | [member="Jax Vandal"] | [member="Ari Vox"] | [member="Cenric Marus"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"]

Immediate Enemies: @Llkt'tudrin'wyshd | [member="Itash Mecetti"] | [member="Jacen Vadith"] | @Tsissar Taral | [member="Sebastian Thel"] | [member="Cassandra Paige"]

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//COORDINATES SET, MAPPING SURROUNDING LOCATIONS AND GEOMETRY.//​

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//MAPPING COMPLETE.//​

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A sigh escaped Ras' lips as he took a long swig from a bottle of spiced rum. His throat burning, his teeth clenching as he braced himself against the poison he filled his body with. Yet it was the only thing he seemed to care about. Clearing his throat, the agent rolled his shoulders as he fitted himself with his chosen gear. A form-fitting body glove laced with protective countermeasures hid his skin from sight, and soon after his face was veiled by a helmet. Pale blue lights came to life with an eerie glow, basking Ras' face with a haunting, depressing hue.​

​

"Let's get this over with."​

​

Cracking his neck, the former Stormtrooper armed himself with rifle in hand, a silenced blaster strapped to his right thigh, and quite a peculiar knife meant for a one-time use. Should his life come under the immediate threat of death, he knew what to do. His very soul wasn't worth spit anyhow, and the agent knew this better than his own backside. ​

​

Ras was once again given purpose, a calling to maybe see through. Working for the First Order had its gimmicks, and even the pay wasn't completely criminal; however, their goals didn't sit right with him. Their long, creeping fingers dipping into the affairs of others and silencing those that dare speak out or have a difference in agenda. Anything that opposed was met with hostility, and the dirty work would haunt him for a long time to come. ​

​

Ras closed his eyes for a brief moment and exhaled.​

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"Go."​

​

Appearing from a nondescript storage unit, the agent covered ground quickly. He had infiltrated the grounds at an earlier time, learning as much as he could before initiating any kind of plan. Getting caught wasn't much of an issue, seeing how the ventilation system was completely disregarded.​

​

Upon coming to the end of a corridor, Ras caught full sight of the objective. One woman in trouble, check. Large thing that might be a lizard, check. Arsenal? All good to go.​

​

Ras took cover, weighing his options with what would be tactically advantageous in this position. He could lob a grenade down the hall, yet the collateral would possibly be worse than just catching a rampaging lizard and its pal. With a frustated sigh, Ras almost wished he didn't care about anyone at all. It'd make the job easier, but that wasn't the point.​

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"Need to find a line of new karking work. Screw it."​

​

Peeling from 'round the leftmost wall, moving slow and with great discipline, Ras' BR-212 began to spit an automatic volley of lethal blaster bolts. He would let off of the trigger every three or four seconds to assure the grouping of each wave, intending nothing more than death for the hostile. Being at the creature's hind quarters, there was a greater chance to inflict serious damage, if not to outright kill. ​

​

Should the beast try anything or notice Ras himself, he knew what to do.​

 

[Jaster Awaud]

Allies: The Sith Empire, [member="Tabigarashu Madara"], [member="Koda Fett"], [member="Ikilwa Arregai"], [member="Vilaz Munin"], [member="Apophis Natuu"], [member="Darth Saarai"], [member="Khonsu Amon"]
Enemies: Unmarked Hostiles (Fel Imperium, The Rebellion.) [member="Ursula Toher"], @Owazza.
Gear:- Armor, - Blaster Rifle, - Pistol, - Phrik Vibro-Blade

The Mando pulled a quick one on him, as he thought he could catch the man through the twist and turns of the corridors to keep up and surpass. However that did not work, and the enemy was able to escape farther.

He stood in a hallway full of dead black painted stormtroopers and a dying Imperial Knight using some magic to heal the wound of himself and another trooper. This meant little to the wild beast of a man as he finally ripped off the rope that was holding him back and put his blade back in its scabbord.

A voice could be heard pounding in the back of his head, "Give back control, your job is done here."

The voice behind the helmet laughted a light cackle, "But we just got started."

The large Mandlorian walked over to a very large crate that was marked with the emblem of the United Trade Conglomerate. Kicking the top off, it revealed a large Gatling Blaster before him. The cackle of child-like joy escaped his mouth as he picked it up. This weapon was one of several payments he took from the Republic Remnant in service to their military. He liked it and this personality also enjoyed how he was able to paint the battlefield with such an amazing brush. The man could hardly contain himself.

Using the full strength of the Exo-Suit within his armor, he lifted the heavy weapon and carried it out of the hallway. He pulled the trigger and his body reacted well to the force of the recoil. He aimed it at the direction he saw the Mandalorain flew, and in that same direction a unusable armored Speeder laid dead, around it were soldiers of unknown origins and a Sith seemingly the blaster bolts just warped around the creature. He decided to ignore them all and fire at the position of the Mandalorain and the Gold Soldiers who hid behind the barriers. Lighting up both of his arm shields to protect his center mass, he cracked a smile from behind the helmet. "Who said we stopped playing!!"

Spoiler

20 Imperial Knights, 95 Shadow Troopers, 50 NN-2 Battle Droids