Invasion Operation Shadowdance: TSE Invasion of NIO-held Muunilinst, Orinackra and Ord Thoden

[Areyon]

A R E Y O N
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
Lightsaber Pike | Armor​

His mind had been freed from its psychological prison. He felt the pain in his head slowly start to falter and the movement in his limbs began to come back. His eyes opened to a red sky and burning debris.

As Areyon began to get up, his helmet slid off of his head. His long brown hair flowed from underneath and fell to his neck. His helmet bunched against the ground and through the eyes, he could see his own reflection. He hadn't seen his own face in a long time, which would concerning considering that one would expect to see themselves daily. He had grown a shabby beard, a far reach from his small stubble when he was training to become an Imperial Knight. His hair had gone from a short and upkempt military cut to a large head of hair that drooped down to the bottom of his neck. The groomed officer appearance from his adolescence had degraded into the homeless wanderer style. The reality of it all was that he refused to take off the helmet for appearance's sake. He wanted to be remembered by all he came across, and the helmet displayed that power. A symbol for him and his enemies that he was a killing machine. A weapon of the Empire.

Following his sudden revelation of his appearance, his stomach turned, and opening his mouth he regurgitated a meal from hours prior. Something was off. His arm shook at the thought of getting up. His legs held no power either. His lightsaber pike lay inches away from his outstretched hand and he was too weak to even lift it off the ground. Slowly, he crawled towards the pike. Grabbing the weapon he used its shaft to slowly pick himself up off of the ground, regaining his balance. His legs shook, but at least he was standing. Areyon took one step at a time, walking towards the wall that had crumbled due to the chaos. He reached the wall, and turning his back towards it he let it support his weight. From the distance, a stormtrooper noticed his fatigued stature and came to his aid. Stormtroopers were taught basic medical care, but nothing too advanced. The medical staff was far more trained. The trooper grabbed him by the arm and using his body he helped the Imperial Knight stand.

<"Sir! I'll call in a medevac right away."> He said, his voice nervous and panicky. He could tell he was a young one, coming straight off of the Imperial Academy's pipeline.

"There will be no need," Areyon replied, his voice gruff and stern. "I need to find her."

<"You are clearly in no condition to fight, sir. Let me help.">

"You will only get in the way," Areyon explained, pushing the young man off of him. He attempted to move on his own, and with bits of his strength back he could actually walk some. His legs were still on the verge of giving out. Reaching his hand out and taking his deep breaths, he fell back into the Force again. He could softly feel her fleeing presence, confused and emotional.

"I cannot let her get away," He told the stormtrooper. "Come quickly, he must move with haste."

The young stormtrooper followed, anxiety reeking from his body. He would chase after his Sith opponent, although slightly at a disadvantage due to his weakened state.

"Let's move!"

ALLIES | NIO | GA
HOSTILES | SITH | Lady Marrow

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Sith raised a single finger as the other kept typing away - as thought to pause her. Only then did his gaze break from the computer, and the abyss of his ruby pupils swimming in the void of his black eyes shown any emotion. His words were dangerous and low - testing and striking all at once;

"You have never faced another like me.", he clarified. There was a smolder in his gaze that seemed as though they were working to impart his dark strength upon her themselves - and what was only a few second stretched to psuedo minutes before he turned back to face the computer.

"If money is your concern, then I'll give you two options; bend the knee, and you'll receive whatever paltry sum you desire. Or..."

"Lose more than money can buy. Your choice."

Yet it seemed she had already made her choice; a void grenade to sign the contract on her life, a thermal grenade to make work, and a sharp sticcato of bolts into the terminal Maliphant stood in front of. Yet he hadn't, or at least wasn't when she fired - gone from her vision in the snap of an eye only for her to feel the pressure of the great staff Kala'anda pressed against her back. From both sides of her periphery vision, seeming duplicates of Maliphant moved, arms behind them as their mouths spoke in unison.

"How odd...", they said before they mirrored leaning in to sniff at her.

"You smell like a Sith, yet you don't fight like one. Stockholm's Imperial, perhaps?", they gleamed with a synchronized smile.

Before her, she would see the efforts of her actions - the terminal was gone, reduced to a mess of scrap and electronics. Either side tibanna gas spilled into the room - threatening to cut off the very breath they would otherwise require, were it not for her helmet, and Maliphant's seeming passive attitude to the situation. The unperturbed Sith continued to speak, the pressure from his staff pressed against increasingly slightly - implying the presence of a third copy of the Sith behind her, out of sight.

"Was your plan really to blow up your own computers and mainframe, sacrifice billions of dollars worth of data, in the hopes of stopping a single Sith? You're either the worst Imperial agent I've ever seen, or the dullest Sith...", the clones offered as they glanced to her rifle.

"Are there more of you?"

Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt │ Darth Carnifex │ Irveric Tavlar

 

[DECEASED Aron Gowrie]

VIII
Operation: SHADOWDANCE
MUUNILINST, 865 ABY

Objective 3: BREAKING THE SILENCE
FRONT CHIMERA

Commonwealth Forces: Willan Tal Enedina Tal Tyrell Lockhart

Allies (NIO): Irveric Tavlar Rurik Fel Enlil Jaeger Harrsk
Kolson Vrask Areyon Detritus Ren
Ravraa Vyshraal Zakaria Black Hâwmâr Lurais Julian Qar

Allies (NJO/GA/FO/SJC/): Aerarii Tithe Ishida Ashina Aaran Tafo Bernard

Allies (RGO/SOM/OTHER): Venerable of Zakuul Vilaz Munin Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

Enemies (TSE/CIS): Shuklaar Kyrdol Darth Mori Arctus Silmar Darth Empyrean Darth Carnifex
Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir Eva Betrik Lady Marrow Bastian Briareos

Gowrie's Loadout
Primary: Custom Blaster-Pistol (Right-hip Holster - left-or-right hand draw)
Secondary: Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Rapier (Left-hip Sheathe - right hand wielding)
Last Ditch/Second-Blade: Fairbairn Vibroknife (Right-hip Sheathe - right-or-left hand wielding)
Pocket-Weapon: Barbershop Razor (Right-pocket - right-hand wielding)

Wildcat Battalion (Mechanized/Artillery/Infantry)
55 Cataphract Tanks
20 AFVs
5 MLVs
2 Predator Launch-Platforms
2 Guardian Tac-Teams
1 Field-Medic Platoon
1 Combat-Engineer/Logistics Squad
Other Vehicles
4 Stolen MLVs
2 Stolen Ammo-Transports

The Glow of Death XI - Scott's Rampage 2

Sitting quite comfortably in their LMG-gunners' seats near the top of their smoothbore turrets, one of McCabe's tank-commanders would chat with the temporary tank-commander from Dunwall, well-concealed but fewer than twenty yards away from their own rubble-covered position. Everyone was getting along quite well as they waited for Guard-Leftenant Scott to pass them by, ordered to provide cover for their escape if any Sith-affiliated forces were seen giving chase, but the wait itself had obviously bored the Tuath and the Dunwaller into seeking out conversation to pass the time; gladly obliged on both counts, which led to the age-old discussion on the legendary Marleson Vs. Ulrand bout that went the distance. A legendary fight that resulted in a draw, and once all the commotion had died down in the following years, one that left a question that neither fighter wanted to have answered for as long as they lived.

'Honestly, though.... The footage we've got for the fight is quite pitiful, considerin' how loud his punches still are on the heavy-bag like BA-BAM!!! BA-BAM!!! Always dangerous with those murderous hook-combinations, surprised Marleson still 'ad a face left to speak wivv - let alone legs sturdy enough to keep snaking them jabs through! Excellent stuff all-round, and still a time-honoured tradition, eh?'

'An' may it remain until the end o' time, man.', Sergeant Stewart replied, celebrating the notion with a draw from his Faslane cigar, an accidental cue for the Dunwall Irregular to light a cigarette to enjoy the mutual adoration of bareknuckle-boxing with him. Alas, the serene moment of tobacco smoking and listening to distant explosions in other parts of the city would need to end sooner or later, and when it did, all the skiving from work would draw to an urgently-abrupt conclusion. In the distance, on Stewart's arc-of-fire, blaster trails and roaring repulsorlift-engines in high-gear could be heard off to his left-hand side, as if the top-floor of the broken building he accepted as cover was awakening with hostilities; looking over to the Dunwall Irregulars' tank, Stewart raised a fist and brought his elbow down to signal for vigilance, followed by a two-finger point in the general direction the madness was expected to spill out from.

<<Scott to Cataphract Nine. We got the tanks, but we were spotted on our way out - nothing else could be done but continue on our way. Slight mistake, as now we have some enemy AFVs on our trail. Fancy giving us some cover on our way in?>>

<<Stewart to Guardian One! Miiiiles ahead of you, sir. Entire stretch of road is covered, even the Irregulars at our six are moving up for a scrap.>>

<<Just the news I like seeing at times like this, Stewart. Ready your AP-shells. And please, for the love of all things Holy, do - not - miss. Guardian One out!>>

After sending the closing reply on his datapad, the Tuath-born sergeant started frantically punching the rim of the turret-hatch, roaring with mirthful delight before turning to the other smoker, taking one last drag and pinging it away before exclaiming,'Hope you know how to use that thing, Corporal Taylor!', pausing to draw the Dunwall Irregular's attention to the visible blaster trails thwacking the side of a skyrise at the end of the road. Dropping his knees down and beginning his descent into the heart of the Cataphract, Taylor was seen pinging his cigarette away as Stewart concluded,'Putting it simply, ah'm hopin' you're good wae that 'cause it's gawnty get real tasty real soon.... Good luck!', in an endearingly-brash and goading spoken-tone. Even as heavier-slugs and poorly-aimed shells began to pepper the building at the end of the road, the sociable pair laughed and traded vulgar hand-signals with each other, enjoying the thrill of the moment in their own mutually-comical fashion as the anticipation did the rest.

'Likewise!'

The Glow of Death XI - Dancing With Shadows​

Slipping through a multitude of side-streets and alleyways, (with his trusty ginger-haired Woad following close behind) the Kellas was eager to slip behind enemy lines as Scott had, fully aware of the unprompted hijacking-action as it was still in the process of being attempted. The competition between armour-rustling Tuaths was finally underway, and the well spoken noble from Minnonraer was off to a screaming head-start already; a challenge that Clan Gowrie's heir-apparent could not allow himself to fail, and certainly not to a backwater-justiciar like Byron Scott. The leader of an entire tribal demographic would need to acquit himself as well as was expected of a true leader from the frozen north of Galidraan 3. Gritting his teeth, the Lord-Commander silently vowed to himself that he'd have enough vehicles to keep him firmly in the lead until the time came to use them all, and by the time he was done, two enemy Scout-AFVs could be heard firing on friendly positions nearby.

'Aron, gies yer bayonet! Ah want them deid, no flailin' as they reach for the blaster wan last time. Far too many risks wae me an' this Fairbairn, t'be honest.... That's awfy close, an' the return-fire is obvious! If we steal, eyes to the west won't mind poppin' whit does'nae declare itself.'

Gowrie reached for the flare-gun on Reed's webbing-belt, then fired it into the air unprompted; shortly after, the return-fire died off and ceased completely, though the Sith's Scout-AFVs were still letting loose with their slug-turrets like they'd just won a severely-swung battle for fire-supremacy, capitalizing on DIs who were no longer there to eat up the onslaught. Slipping away to let the competition continue fairly, knowing well that Lockhart was also in on the challenge, the silence of the previously-embattled Irregulars was all the signal Lord Aron needed to know that they were respecting his wishes, and without a single datapad-message being sent in either direction. 'Ye'd 'hink ah could'nae hear the PLX-One projectiles prematurely detonatin' or suhin'.... Or the high-powered rifle cracks bouncin' aff every fethin' wa' in Harnaidan, eh?', the Kellas retorted as he returned the flare-gun to it's rightful place.

'Let me guess,"TrUsT tHe pRoCeSs, GiNgE!". Sound about right for yer next outburst, aye? Grow a karkin' pair an' lead the way, MiLoRd! Time's a wastin', an' ah'm no babysittin' that fething face back here. Let's get some rustlin' done, man!'

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

T h e _ R e n e g a d e
New Imperial Order // Genesis Rangers
Outer Rim Territories // Muunilinst // The Assembly
Task //: BREAKING THE SILENCE - LIFE LINE

Tenebrae Armor / Hand Of God / BH 'Durin' Charric Blaster Pistol / Jackal / Grenades / Light Saber

Cant Tell Me Nothing

​

“If I had a credit for how many times I have heard that-” Sybila balked, his gaze reflected by the green polarized screen staring right back at him with his crimson gaze. She bared her teeth for none but herself, the slight turn of her helmet as she shook her head holding his gaze, even as the hair stood on the back of her neck. The gravel tone her words carried, were grated by the armor that encased her as she sucked in a low breath-

“Credits are nice, but what can I say. If I can’t have it-nobody can. I don’t get on my knees for just anyone no matter how tempting,” Sybila smacked her lips as she blew him a kiss, her coppery breath blown back in her face. There would be another way at the end of the day, there had to be. Armies didn’t fare well on half promises though and it was only another tally in favor of the Devil himself. The tail end of her words ended in a hollow laugh, something that bordered dread. Vitals idly crossed the screen and she weighed the remaining arsenal on her form, ten minutes and counting but this wasn’t the kind of fight for the common man.

It was something a little more wicked.

Apparitions didn’t scare her, worse men had tried in the shadows and she had been subject to the machinations of a tortured psyche. From beneath the layers of Tenebrae her shoulders dropped, her digit slowly releasing the trigger as she raised the gun up in a half hearted-mocking surrender. The noxious smoke and tibanna mixed around them as the suit’s system support sealed off the ventilators.

The HUD flickered as it arranged a panorama of the operator room, identifying the third figure behind her-though she watched both figures circling her. The A.I struggled outlining their forms, it was caught between identification and a string of error codes. A mirror of the man himself, a form of manipulation she had scratched the surface of. It didn’t change the spook’s influence on this plane, she had learned that lesson the hard way. She could hack and slash her way out a handful of feet but by the insistent prick at her spine-

“Good guess, really. Stockholm. It’d explain a lot, ah shit you got me,” Sybila answered, only half invested in the meaning, shrugging off the notion. It would explain plenty if she wanted to pull out the magnifying glass, since the beginning. The security it offered-the chain tethering her and imprinted down to the bone. Her helm swiveled carefully, cornered that’d what they’d call her. “My patches are scratched, but you can call me the cavalry.”

Half scourged armor, a missing Imperial badge. Those days were clearly long behind the woman.

Even as the room was choked out by the likes of the void particles who ever stood before her; had long overcome it. It wasn’t a sure fire defense, but it could turn the tail of a lesser man-she still cursed under her breath. Whatever flickered across the Force was far away and her head was submerged-wading through deep water from it. Even as she shored up her own mind, blaring her senses-she was staring into the unknown and whatever was on the other side was out of reach.The soft click at her back stilled her, the weight of the Sith’s own weapon caused a shiver ran up her back.

Infernal eyes studied the holo feed and the tri-mirage, she hadn’t gotten a good look at it until now. Bone and blade, that was the thing gnawing at the back of her mind through the fog. It demanded attention, worse then any petty call of power a holocron had whispered to her. Sith Alchemy at it’s finest. The corner of her mouth twitched and she licked the copper off her lips. The plasma ate up through the wires on the terminal bay, a secondary chain reaction of explosions contained within the mainframe. A rancid metallic smoke polluted the space, obscuring the room.

“This mainframe doesn’t mean shavit to me in the end. You ever consider that-,” Sybila tossed out the words, reckless was her preference. The radio was dead with silence still and she grimaced. Her frame snapped as she whipped around with a heavy guarded leg deciding it was time to crack on.

Her form twisted on the ball of her foot, meaning to catch the staff in the crook of her knee as she moved- trying to redirect it and trap it under the joint as she leaped. A condensed thruster in the heel of her boot spurred with life-propelling her limb as she kicked out. It was the first test, losing sight-awash in the smoke screen. What was she really dealing with, the A.I faltering reacting off her perception. One gauntlet closed in on the stock of the rifle in the same motion, sliding it over her shoulder as her boots came crashing back to the steel floors. She had time, time to dissect whatever was ever trapped in the confines of the room with her.

“-Call me curious.. Do you bleed? Do you walk amongst men like some false god too? You’re not really here after all, are you trying to claw your way out of the Netherworld-from your own plain of Oblivion? Or spying from some vantage above protected by your fleet? Are you nothing? Half a coward, half inflated-come break me if you think you're such a spectacle to behold."

NIO // Irveric Tavlar Allyson Locke
TSE // Darth Carnifex Darth Empyrean

 

[Lady Marrow]

Tag: Areyon Arctus Silmar Darth Mori
Objective: III - Front Hydra
Equipment: The Marrow Blade

The poison which would flow through his system from the touch would be weak, far weaker than Lady Marrow would have intended it to be, a bad cold in place of flu enduced pneumonia like symptoms. She was in pain, tired, both things that drained focus away from the force. Had it been her blade that hit, things might have been different.

Head pounding, body aching while the thrumming distant sounds of war echoes across the landscape, reverberating between the streets amplifying the chorus of wailing pain that drowned out even her own thoughts. She needed to make her way deeper into the city, making her way for the building in which the leadership of the defenders were being held, defended. The knights of the Dawn, other squads and outposts were nearby launching their attacks from within these civilian areas, setting up munitions stations. It was a lot of information, information her opponent knew she had. If not knowing the exact specifics anymore due to the nature of 'draining' ones knowledge... but all things were possible within the force.

Her pace was slow, staggered, she didn't know the condition of Areyon, but, shacking up in an alley she would fumble for her communicator with her one good hand, attempting to dial in access to their communications officer while her eyes scanned the horizon for any who might be pursuing her. The information she had was vital on others being able to get to the doors, and into where those VIPs were to cut the heads from the snakes that ran this damnable defense.

"Hello? Hi, uhm, my name is Lady Marrow... How are y- ... no! this is important! Yes, i know tha- ... Just listen! I know the positions of the enemy in the inner city. General tactics, formations, standard arra- How did i get it? I ate it... Yes... I'm not joking! Just listen, UGH!"

The call would end in frustration as she went through a verification process, it seemed that her word wasn't good enough it needed to be authorized by someone in senior command or an elite field operative that could sign off the intel as credible. Tendrils would be sent out to other commanders that were in play amongst the Sith Forces, but for now, she was put on hold with the operator causing no small amount of anger to well up in the gut of the Lady while she focused on attempting to recover some of her smaller wounds. Using shapeshifting in order to recover a wound was... never fun. It meant moving the wounded area, manipulating an area that was already in pain, stretching and bending it into a new place, doing such to bones was particularly excruciating.

Ignoring her more wounded arm, she would manipulate her dress into a sling that would coil it close to her and immobilize it, while she would pour her attention onto her other arm and her legs, attempting to manipulate the keratin like substance within her to seal the cracks in her bones, the movement caused her to almost scream as she grit her teeth. If he'd just removed her arm, it would have been one thing, easily fixed and repaired into another functional arm... but this, internal minor injury was something much more meddlesome.

The tiredness from the pain simply transferred to tiredness bought on from effort, panting and observing her newly repaired arm as she slumped in the alley, her legs and head feeling light, but at least now with some rest, even a few minutes she could get a second wind, something which the persistent ache would never have allowed her to do. She'd thought about simply cutting off her wounded arm, being done with the pain. But fear gripped her a little too much to do that.

Sure enough, the sound of people began to approach, causing Marrow to struggle to her feet, moving to a window, using a claw to cut it out with a near silent hissing of her nail on he glass. When it was revealed to be Areyon coming around the corner, Marrow would gasp, plainly visible for a moment as she would clamber into the base floor of the building, looking around before seeing the door which led to a stairwell. She couldn't allow herself to be captured now... she needed to survive long enough at least to pass on her message... everything she knew, everything they needed to know.

This suffering could end soon.

​

 

[Laertia Io]

Xiphos watched as Hakon Fett was forced on the defensive in their exchange. He had clearly prepared for her. He was clearly learning about her as they fought, adjusting his strategy. Yet he went on the defensive. He had something up his sleeve.

The Grenade. Too close for it to be lethal. He'd be caught in the blast radius.

Which meant...flash bang. But that could not be all he had brought to the party.

Xiphos winced from the flash of the and sound of the grenade, her old disciplines from her days in the order, mental reinforcement against stun attempts, as well as a life time of using such flash and distortion in her magic tricks as a street magician allowed her to resist the effects of the flash bang.

The Void stone smoke was another matter entirely...



"Again." Ursula Sandraven ordered the fifteen year old Laertia Io, who wore loose, sleeveless gray training robes. Ursula, a curvy, athletic Twi'lek woman with purple skin wore her usual white catsuit. They were in an all white training chamber. Laertia was training with a Vibrosword against a specially Programmed Magnaguard with an Electrostaff.

A Ysalamiri had been attached to it. Weak, but generating a bubble where the Force could not Function, greatly disorienting her and making her woozy. She also didn't seem as physically powerful. She could still snap a neck, but she had to put in actual effort to pulverize someone, Ursula wagered.

"I...I canntz feelz duh Force, Masstur Sandraven." Laertia struggled out with her speech impediment.

"A Jedi...'any' Warrior...is more than their connection to the Force. Your enemies are cheating bastards, and sometimes they will lure you into traps just like this one, where your connection to it is cut off or otherwise greatly weakened, leaving you much more vulnerable. You must learn to fight past these limits your enemies will attempt to impose." Ursula explained from above on a balcony.

"But howwz? Dhis droydz iz reel smarrtz. It's beenz kyckyngz my azz fer duh laast tenn mynytz! Anndz I'm so woozy!"

"If you cannot fight an opponent without the Force, then you do not deserve the Force." Ursula said sternly. "You knew what life was like once without it. Draw on those ancient memories to fight the nausea that comes from separation. A Jedi is more than the power that they project. A Warrior's mind and body are their most powerful assets in combat. The Force cannot see you through every trial. Somethings are best done as a mere mortal, with nothing but their wits."

Laertia nodded, understanding. She refocused on the Magnaguard, drawing on her earliest, most violent memories, when it was just her and a knife. No strength, and no teleporting.

The Magnaguard with a Ysalamiri mounted on it moved swiftly in range. Laertia steadied her Vibrosword, fighting the nausea and shock as her Access to the Force was cut off as she engaged the Magnaguard sluggishly, feeling like she was going to throw up.

She still lost, but not as quickly as before.

"Again!" Ursula called out. "We shall do this until the nausea is a non-factor."

"Yess, Masstur Sandraven." Laertia called back woozily gearing for another bout with the Droid...

Xiphos remembered "Ursula's" lessons just in time, for she heavily suppressed the Nausea and dizziness through sheer will power as the sword of the Force Dead Assassin rushed forward.

She could barely call on the Force to sense him thanks to the Void stone gas, but it was just enough to guide herself out of the way of his strike with an elegant twist to the side. A foolish mistake. He had committed too much to the strike and now he would pay, as he was now at completely the wrong angle to parry her counter attack, only a desperate block or roll might save him as she slashed viciously at the arm that she had already damaged, which might force a change in strategy from him as she relentlessly attacked the obvious weakspot with vicious slashes and stabs, bent on hammering a now almost totally exposed side in any way she could.

"I never claimed Godhood, Assassin." Xiphos sneered in contempt.

"Welcome to the world of Martyrdom."

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud
The Red Witch, The Night Queen, Lady Stuztala, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium, Archon of the Primyn Group​

Location: Orinackra System, NIV Confidence, Command Deck
Objective II.: Surviving
Equipment: Military uniform || Empyrean gland
Writing with: Trajan Fett

[ Requiem for a Dream ] ​

From her position and due to the fact that she could not move she did not see what had happened; felt the collision, and it was not the first time she had travelled on a ship that collided with another. After the man's earlier words and the fact that the Regent Admiral had fled, it was clear that this ship would be sacrificed. When she surrendered, she already knew that there was a good chance they would make a martyr out of her, but that was not the way she thought.

The Empress did not beg for salvation, for antidote; for her, this situation was also a struggle in which she fought for her own people. Even so, most people don’t understand this, but it didn’t matter to her. In fact, Ingrid would have been most happy if this fight, the death, found her on the battlefield, with swords in her hand. The greatest glory among her people - the clans - to die in battle. But this was another kind of fight. How she'll become a martyr, what she never wanted.

Smiled for a moment; she now needed Kurze to speak, because after each word she got to know him better, understood him better what he was doing and why. It will be easier for a woman to find the gap and weak point in the man. She raised her head slightly to look into the man's eyes as Trajan knelt near her. She was dying, but there was only determination and coldness in her deep sky blue eyes.

She did not expect sympathy or regret, she did not need it, and she would not beg. From such a close range, however, she could feel the man's feelings exactly. Feeling hungry again, she could have been very full of Kurze's emotions, and perhaps she could have alleviated even some of the damage caused by the organisms. Luckily, she was able to suppress basic instincts as well and no, she didn’t feed on the man’s emotions and didn’t even try to steal them.

"What will you do if I deny your chance of revenge, Mr. Kurze?"

Asked, her voice weak but still cold and military. Basically Ingrid had a respect for the Mandlorians, as she also came from a warrior society. From one where a child starts learning to fight as soon as they start walking. They, too, lived by their own code of honour and rules. Kurze reminded the woman of her own husband, not Adrian, the other, Tubrok. Tubrok was like that when they met before he took revenge on the clans who slaughtered his family. Just like Kurze lost his own.

This is exactly why the Empress spoke to the man to find out this information. Through Tubrok Ragal , she knew exactly what was hurting the most in this situation. She was still tied up so she couldn’t move, but another “fuse”, the grenade around her ankle made it clear that the man would let the rescue team reach the bridge and the position where the woman was, and will let them to try to get her free from her bonds and the from the chair.

"I am not asking for your pity or sympathy. And I mean, it’s so unfortunate that a Mandalorian has become like you. With these feelings, you would be an excellent Sith, I bet they would be proud of you. And tell me, what do you want to do if I order them not to come here and not try to set me free? If I send everyone off the ship before they reach the bridge? If I take away your chance for revenge? What are you going to do, Mr. Kurze?"

She asked without emotion, though her voice was already very weak. Ingrid really had no idea if she still had the power to send a telepathic message or not, so it was more of a bluff. She didn't need Force to do that, but if she didn't, she could still shout when the rescue team reached the bridge. Provided they reach it.

 

[LT-137]

// Wild Space Region // Orinackra System // Orinackra //
// Grid Coordinates: J-3 - New Imperial Controlled Territory. //​

OBJECTIVE II - HIGH VALUE ASSETS | COLLECTING OUR DUE

It wasn't long after the order was given that the first of the interdiction mines were deployed. As the warships weren't dedicated minelayers, there were no deployment chutes for those devices to be launched from. Instead, the automated systems and robotic platforms aboard the warship elected to toss the space mines out of one of the cargo bay airlocks. While such methods were crude and partially imprecise, there were redundancies in effect that could ensure the newly erected minefield measured up to effective standards. Through the use of tractor beams from both the heavy cruiser and it's corvette escorts, what mines were "launched" from the warship were tugged into their respective places. As their momentum was arrested by the unseen beams of energy, their once dormant systems began to wake.

With the first of the space mines cycling to life, the Ebony-hewn Automaton turned their focus elsewhere. He - as this robotic shell was outfitted with masculine programming - trusted his lessers to accomplish this relatively simple task with machined ease. As another of his kind took over the task of overseeing the mechanical menials, his attention was directed to the battle proper. While distant and shrouded in ionic interference, the Automaton saw through his Warship's eyes. Clusters and nodal sensors whirred with activity as they drank in the details of that distant engagement. Both sides had launched sorties of fighters and interceptors, swarms of metallic gnats seeking to destroy their opposites, and gain some form of spatial supremacy. If one side had seized the advantage over the other, it was likely that their strike-fighters and undeployed bombers would focus on the larger ships - as their fighter screens were disabled or destroyed.

However, it seemed that a squadron of Sith-Imperial fighters elected to focus on the ship's themselves, rather than their New Imperial counterparts. That was foolish, the Automaton pulsed within their encrypted network. While disabling the Point Defence Network of a Warship was an adequate enough plan, the fact they failed to protect their carriers and cruisers proved they were inexperienced and reckless. A notion which lent credence to an earlier thought regarding clones and gene-printed soldiers populating the ranks of the Sith. Perhaps the Empire was losing their trained pilots at too fast of a rate to replace them, and hoped by supplementing destructive technologies for experience, they would carry the day. Alas, it was unlikely. True, one could flit through a warship's deflector shields like they never existed - but with the ambient ionic radiation? Well, that would undoubtedly pose a risk for such tiny fighters.

The Automaton expected that it wouldn't be long until they splashed themselves against New Imperial concussion-based particle shields. Provided their allies were equipped with them, of course.

From there, the Sith Empire seemed to focus solely on the NIV Confidence, which meant that the warship offended them in some capacity - or the aforementioned person of interest was aboard. The Automaton assumed that both factors were at play there, and began filing away the sight for later review. There was nothing that could be done to save the ship from being taken by blaster and blade, especially against such a reckless foe. However, that was where things would undoubtedly become interesting. With so many enemies situated aboard a single vessel, and the escape pods having been apparently launched… it wouldn't be difficult to scuttle the warship with the enemy still aboard. All those elite boarding troops and effort in destroying the point defence network, would be ultimately wasted in the end.

He had to admit, if that was their plan - it was a beautiful one. If the NIV Confidence was destroyed, the Sith forces wouldn't have any reasons to remain within the Orinackra system. As their person of interest would either be recovered by those that managed to escape, or lost with all hands aboard the scuttled warship. That meant they would seek to leave the system as quickly as possible. In seeking to withdraw, the Sith Warships would have to disengage and maneuver away from their active combatants. Such an act would undoubtedly put them in danger of critical subsystems being exposed and possibly destroyed, leaving their warships at the mercy of a renewed opponent.

That wasn’t even mentioning the precious seconds that would be wasted as power was drawn from other systems to spool-up their collective hyperdrives; another factor that could lead the Sith down a dark, and unfortunate path. Should they manage to escape the renewed vigour of their foes - the forces of the Sith would find themselves drawn into another trap. As the generators of the deposited Empion mines were now active - forces going to and from the Orinackra system would find themselves torn from hyperspace by the various safety measures integrated into their hyperdive motivators.

Naturally, this could be bypassed by incoming vessels - provided they were equipped with momentum sustainers. However, even then, such a rare subsystem wouldn’t activate whilst a warship was within realspace due to the lack of momentum being sustained.

Pushing aside the ever-expanding speculative outcomes of the battle ahead, the Ebony-hewn Automaton found himself drawn to a newly activated warning alarm. With his attention refocused on the present, the Wardroid found himself immensely disappointed in a newfound discrepancy. According to his Warship’s nodal sensor array, itt seemed that one of the Sith Warships managed to slip the noose. Whether it was intentional or through a moment of uncharacteristic fortune, the vessel bypassed the established interdiction field by the narrowest of margins. Determined by the data that was collected, the furthest Empion Mine hadn’t activated quick enough - allowing the Sith warship to spear through the gap unhindered.

++ While disheartening, ++ the Automaton pulsed. ++ It is good we haven’t charged our customer for such faulty goods. Make note of the discrepancy for later review. We shall seek to overhaul and amend this issue at a later date. ++

To that end, with the unexpected withdrawal of the Sith Warship, there was a possibility that it would inevitably return. There too existed the possibility of enemy reinforcements arriving along his established vector as well. With the Interdiction field established, that possibility became an almost-certainty. Whether the reinforcements were grizzled and embattled remnants of the various fighting forces that sought to punch their way through New Imperial space, or freshly generated, was an uncertain variable that could only be hypothesized. Regardless, should that eventuality come to pass - the small squadron of Trade Federation forces that were deployed at Orinackra would be outnumbered.

Something needed to be done.

Without a nanosecond more of delay, the Ebony-hewn automaton pulsed a series of commands across his squadron’s localized battlenet. The three warships were to pivot themselves on the spot and horizontally vector themselves against the incoming hyperlane. While it wasn’t ideal in many respects, the positioning offered the automated warships the best chance of engaging their newfound enemies - regardless of the direction they approached from. With their weapons cycled live, and shield generators running hot, the squadron was as ready as they would ever be for what unfolded next.

In the meantime, however, the Wardroid took a fleeting moment to recompile what data he extracted from the probe droid and combine it with the newly garnered information from the warship he was connected to. With both packets in hand, the Automaton opened an encrypted, tight-beam transmission to the temporary command ship of a newly formed Imperial squadron that bore the designation of Grimace. Pending the interference from the brewing ionic storm, the data was unlikely to be intercepted - lest there were cloaked warships that shrouded themselves from their scopes and were directly within the transmission’s path. Should the data make it to the Grimace uninterrupted, the following would be displayed - when the data was decrypted utilizing New Imperial ciphers.

Spoiler: Encrypted Transmission.

++ Grimace Actual. This LT-137, acting Command Functionary of Security Echelon Aurek, of the Trade Federation Defence Force. Empion Mines have been deployed along the Orinackran Run. Gravity Well Generators are active and the Interdiction Field is established. Withdrawal of the Sith Warship - Designation: Decimator creates a possible eventuality of Sith Imperial reinforcements. Should this possible event become reality, our Squadron shall hold them off for as long as we are able. Additional Trade Federation reinforcements are available. ++

​

Spoiler: NPC Complement and Summary of Actions.

Security Echelon Aurek

• Written:
  • The aforementioned Empion Mines have been "deployed" in an unconventional fashion and tugged into place by tractor beams. Once positioned, the Mines slowly established an interdiction field with their gravity well generators. During this "warming up stage" the Decimator manages to "slip the noose" and escape the system.
    • This escape leads LT-137 to believe that reinforcements may be arriving, and begins to situate his squadron accordingly. To ensure that his findings (and the possibilities they hold) aren't kept to himself, the Wardroid transmits the accumulated data to the NIV Grimace via an encrypted tight-beam.

Relevancy Taglist:
| Caarlyle Rausgeber | Gallius Orcana | Albrecht F. Herlock | Des Harz | Tranquility | Errix Feh'room | Seela Leini | Darth Banshee | The Amalgam | Moff Drybis Lyken <- Apologies!

Boarding Parties on the NIV Confidence have been Omitted due to diverging narratives.​

 

[Vesta]

DEVIL'S GONNA COME​

Muunilist

Breaking the Silence: Front Hydra​

Location: Harnaidan​

Equipment: Talon of Typhojem, Lightsaber​

Allies: The Sith Empire | Lady Marrow , Darth Daiara ​

Enemies: New Imperial Order | Noel Strasza ​

While the confusion broke in the room over the fate of their comrade the Sith lord was arriving at the entrance to the building housing them. A mere locked door stood with unspoken arrogant defiance, defiance met with a sweeping pillar of red that spelled its end and gave the Shi'ido all the permission she needed to step inside. Red light extinguished as she moved her lightsaber back to her hip, returning the sword in her left hand to a two-handed grip, while she began her gradual ascent up the stairs towards the floor that had held Noel Strasza and the other soldiers that had opened fire on her.

"Hello? Hi, uhm, my name is Lady Marrow... How are y- ... no! this is important! Yes, i know tha- ... Just listen! I know the positions of the enemy in the inner city. General tactics, formations, standard arra- How did i get it? I ate it... Yes... I'm not joking! Just listen, UGH!"

Halting mid-step as the sound of arguing broke out over the communications device attached to her ear, an expression of frustration taking shape at the sudden increase of volume that irritated her hearing and made it more difficult to keep stock of her surroundings, much less make sure she was still unapproached. "This is Darth Mori, born Vesta Zambrano. I will personally verify the information of Lady Marrow , any further delays to her briefing will be considered sedition that I will handle personally." She hissed angrily, eager to get the information spread as fast as possible and with as little chatter as possible - she was still hunting down her prey, the last thing she needed was some bureaucratic nonsense over who was authorized for what. While she waited for the issue to be sorted out she turned her attention back to the target of her more immediate desire - the one who had been picking off the Sith one by one before her intervention. Continuing her trek up, now, Darth Mori prepared herself for a much more intense, and entertaining, sort of combat.

The mortal kind.

 

[Noel Strasza]

D E A T H W A L K
W A R M A C H I N E

4TH DOOM DIVISION
THE WATCHMEN 7/9

SMACKDOWN | Darth Mori

<” Major Noel Strasza , this is Doctor Qar. River is stable. Over.”>

It wasn't until Julian confirmed the recipient and treatment of her soldier that she returned her attention to the greater task at hand. No doubt the Sith Lord on the street would have reached her previous locale by then, and such would serve as a proper battleground for the Warmachine to meet her. <"Thanks, doc, out."> Strasza answered her husband quickly, taking some sort of twisted comfort in the fact that he was back with the medical units rather than on the front lines with her squadron this time. That was an argument she was happy she won.

<"Change of plans gents, get clear LoS on my position, over."> Noel issued the new orders to her men and stalked back into the building, further tucking her rifle into its sling concealed beneath the drape of her scattercloak and instead palming the scattergun she toted for close-quarters engagements.

Beyond the glassy panes of the windows situated on the floor she had chosen, central to the building's levels, The Watchmen nested themselves down, waiting with eager gaze for the inevitable meet between their commander and their singled-out foe. Each of them as Force Dead as Strasza was, it would be much harder for them to be discovered before they opened fire. River and Bones had been somewhat of a gamble in that regard, but one that had more or less paid off, despite the wounds one of them suffered. The Major paused in her tight stroll, listening intently as the droid socketed into her shoulder fanned its blades and swept the walls and rooms she did not personally see to, returning environmental data back in the form of life scan. Bingo, she had a hit.

The Sith Lord was climbing.

The window of time she had to prepare was closing steadily, thus she set to work stripping off the grenades clipped to her belt and rolling them into a separate room, scattering them away where they could not be detonated preemptively while still carried. She had the ones she needed hiding away, of course, already loaded into the grenade launcher attached to the under barrel of her scattergun. All that was needed was a clear shot at her foe in a moment of vulnerability to pop one off. That window, she anticipated, would come sooner rather than later, though she would bide her time.

<"Major, we're in position, standing by, over.">

The Warmachine nodded to none but herself, lingering in the corridor she had chosen as their battleground. The windows framing one side made her ploy a rather obvious one, but she would not move from this place, knowing her advantage was distinctly environmental for the time being. The New Imperial Order had done her a favor when they built her into a machine made specifically to fight those she despised, turning her into a hot-headed weapon adept at dispatching and standing toe-to-toe with Sith Lords and Sorcerers alike. Stealth became her, wrapping her in a muffling approach as training meshed with advanced biomechanical engineering, dampening her steps down the hall.

Strasza positioned herself against the corner of the wall that opened to the stairwell and laid in wait.​

 

[Darth Daiara]

BREAKING THE SILENCE | MUUNILINST
Aerarii Tithe

For someone so frail and old, he was putting up quite the fight. He had to be at least, what, sixty? Judging by that hair, likely seventy. She didn't rush her way through the vault. She didn't care to be sloppy. She could feel his stress rippling throughout the force. She almost thought she could track him with it, but that wasn't needed. He started the conversation on his own.

“I can’t help but think we got off on the, ah, wrong foot,” he called out as he continued creeping through the vault. “Allow me to start - Vice Chancellor Aerarii Tithe of the Galactic Alliance, formerly in the employ of the Sith Empire as a Moff. But you, already knew that, yes?”

Her heel scuffed against the tile as she pivoted left... and started walking towards the voice.

HIs question made her blood boil, as did the title he used for himself. Yes, everything was clinking into place now. She could hear the thrumming of his hammer as she drew closer... there. Just beyond this row. He was standing on the other side.

She stopped short and turned to face the invaluable objects that stood in the way.

"Yes."

She adjusted her grip, her palms sweaty on her saber as she thought about that day. "Vice Chancellor now, is it?. What, do you run the whole core? Do they even know what you are?"

It took every ounce of her control to keep her voice steady. It was like corralling a wild animal, it was easier to grab them with their guard lowered. Silent steps led her to the end of the row, the girl trying to turn the corner before he could bolt.

Spoiler: The Story

BREAKING THE SILENCE // MUUNILINST
Guarantor | Visions of Gold | Taxman’s Embrace | Limited Liability | Attire
Darth Daiara

The streets of Harnaidan, the capital of Muunilinst, were no stranger to well-dressed bankers and their entourages hurrying between meetings with prospective clients and business partners. Indeed, Aerarii Tithe knew the streets of the Muun city as well as New Escrow, the capital of his native world of Aargau. His former life as a Sith-Imperial Banking Clan official, and earlier as a successful corporate banker has called him to the world more times than he could recall.

An auspicious occasion - the fifth anniversary of the New Imperial Order’s capture of Muunilinst and neighbouring Mygeeto and Scipio - had brought him to Muunilinst to celebrate. At the time, the NIO victory had not been a great day for Tithe. The then-Moff and governor of Sector Group II had led the Sith Empire’s defence of Mygeeto alongside Grand Moff Madelyn Lowe and had only just escaped with his life, narrowing escaping death at the hands of Gat Tambor in the vaults deep beneath the planet’s surface. He doubted that the Sith-Imperial Banking Clan had ever truly rebounded from the loss of its key banking worlds.

Fast forward half a decade and the Aargauun was here as a representative the very antithesis of his old employer - the Galactic Alliance - of which he was but a heartbeat away from leading. He had shared a meeting room on Muunilinst with the NIO, not as an enemy but as an ally. The small collection of medals he wore, presented by the Lord Imperator for his role in the battles of Bastion and Ziost, spoke to his support of Tavlar’s regime, a nation that had once tried to kill him. The Sith Empire, once a sprawling galactic power, was beset on all sides from all size with enemy occupations deep within their once strong borders.

And yet, freedom remained elusive. Emerging from the galactic west, the Bryn'adûl were driving deep toward the core, consuming everything in their path. While surgical strikes had been the favoured tactic to head off their encroachment, it was quickly becoming clear that only a united front could bring the invaders to a heel. Thus will the convocation on Muunilinst had sought to celebrate the five years of victories achieved by the New Imperial Order, it also sought to devise a strategy to counter the Bryn'adûl.

The Sith had other ideas.

Despite arriving under the impression this journey could be another meeting of powerful politicians and business titans, events had taken a turn for the worst when the Sith Empire had arrived in orbit and began besieging the world.

What had promised to be a soiree of like-minded individuals and the potential to build his business contacts had become a flight to freedom. Tithe hurried toward his shuttle, surrounded by his Alliance Senate close protection team, having excused himself from the proceedings when it became clear this was not a simple hit-and-run raid. Sith Imperial starfighters swooped overhead as reports were circulating that Sith Legionnaires had landed within the city limits. While the NIO was initially caught off guard, they quickly responded and redeployed their forces to hold the city.

Come what may of Muunilinst, all Tithe needed was a few more minutes to make it to his shuttle.

BREAKING THE SILENCE | MUUNILINST
Aerarii Tithe

​

Thing were not going as planned.

Aradia leaned forward from her perch, her blue eyes following the figures down the street. One such man walked beneath her, his steps quick and full of intention as he fled the other way. He looked rich. In the important kinda way. If he was one of her targets, what was he doing leaving early?

Something had gone wrong.

She dropped down from an ornate gutter, her steps light as she landed between the five guards. Two were dead before they could hit the ground-- the first lives taken by her new saber.

She straighten unflinchingly between the final three, her yellow blade held alight. Thruuuum. Thruuuum. Thruuuum. It pulsed in sync with the pounding in her ears. Her eyes slid left... then right.

She side-stepping to the left.

The tension shattered into a flurry of shots. She moved like water, advancing with seamless footwork. The shots she did not block, she dodged. Blaster holes singed through their chests. By the time she was on them, they were already dead. Make that five.

The yellow blade turned onto Aerarii Tithe next, wavering as each breath brought Aradia's shoulders up and down.

"And just where do you think you're going?"

*Death of npcs were done at the invitation of Aerarii Tithe

BREAKING THE SILENCE // MUUNILINST
Guarantor | Visions of Gold | Taxman’s Embrace | Limited Liability | Attire
Darth Daiara

Sith forces continued to pour into Harnaidan as Tithe and his retinue hurried toward their waiting shuttle and their chance at freedom. Already the scars of battle, wrought by friendly and enemy weapons fire, were appearing on the Muun's neoclassical buildings. While the Sith had bombed the planet in the wake of their defeat to deny it to the New Imperial Order, a massive rebuilding project funded by the Trade Federation and the IMP500's immeasurable proceeds had restored the city to its former glory.

But that glory was under threat. The Sith and their war machines threw themselves against the New Imperial defenders, who were joined in battle by Galactic Alliance soldiers and Silver Jedi Concord warriors. Fierce fighting in the streets was matched only by the aerial and orbit combat high above.

Tithe and his close protection team rounded another corner, drawing closer to his shuttle and their means of escape. The Vice Chancellor began running through what he needed to do once they were airborne - contact Adhira and give her an update on the summits with the NIO and the Sith invasion, have his senior chief of staff draft a statement condemning the Sith attack, call his accountant and get his credits off Muunilinst as soon as possible…

His careful planning was interrupted by a figure dropping from overhead. Within seconds a golden blade had cleaved through his close protection team. He backed into a wall, finding himself with nowhere else to do and the only survivor of the sudden yet deadly ambush. The lightsaber was levelled at Tithe, its wielder demanding to know where he was going.

“Evacuating the city,” he explained matter of factly, a career of finance and politics giving him a level of deception rivalled by few in the galaxy. He would not have found success in either career were it not for his opportunity to talk his way out of dangerous situations. “I’m but a simple banker, caught up in this most distressing assailment. I’ll gladly go on my way, I’m sure you have more pressing, ah, matters to attend to.”

BREAKING THE SILENCE | MUUNILINST
Aerarii Tithe

Aradia tilted her head.

"A simple banker," she repeated, enunciating each word.

"Leaving that building." Her blade flicked east bound.

"With five armed men."


She didn't buy it, but that didn't give her anything to go off of, either. Her brows furrowed as she struggled to pull up the files she had studied. Faces, locations, titles, they were all vital intel in the war against imperial terrorism. He felt familiar, but from where? And ho-

A gasp pulled from her chest.

She had seen him before. Before this week, before Bastion, before anything that had ever mattered in her life, yes-- she knew those doofy glasses and conceited smirk.

"You," she spat, her saber recentering on his chest. She was young, but her gaze carried the fire of a thousand suns. The weight of what she had experienced since his defect sat in the hallows beneath her eyes. She had seen things, and she knew that face.


"Hands up. On the ground. Now." She had never arrested someone before, but boy could she think of things to worth doing with him.

BREAKING THE SILENCE // MUUNILINST
Guarantor | Visions of Gold | Taxman’s Embrace | Limited Liability | Attire
Darth Daiara

His ruse - and his opportunity to escape Muunilinst unhindered - sadly failed. The Sith warrior recognised him, which wasn’t entirely unexpected given he was both a wanted traitor with Sith bounties on his head and a political leader of the Alliance. What struck Tithe the most was that he was still alive. The woman appeared young, was possibly a little unsure what to do with him, and hadn’t removed his head from his shoulders on sight. An apprentice perhaps?

Being captured by the enemy was always bad, but if she wasn’t a fully-fledged Sith Lady, his chances of survival may have ticked up from zero to unlikely, which was a start.

The Vice Chancellor was ordered to get on the ground. While he had not been able to bluff his way out, he had brought himself enough time to think through his next course of action. His powered-down electrohammer was within reach, though by the time he got the weapon into his hands and activated its energy blade, no doubt fumbling once or twice, the Sith would cut him down.

Thankfully, his pockets were customarily stuffed with credits. He knew the Sith would never accept a bribe.

So he employed the credits in a less conventional approach.

“As you, ah, wish”, he replied as he started to bend down and feinting surrender. He quickly dipped a hand into one of his pockets…

…and withdrew a stack of Trade Federation Credits which he threw at the Sith. Without pausing to see if the gambit had worked, Tithe was on his feet and barrelling down the street.

While he was no fighter, he was skilled and very experienced at fleeing. Drawing upon his knowledge of Harnaidan from countless visits, he cut through laneways and side alleys to the grand IMP500 stock exchange. If there was one building he stood a chance of losing his pursuer in, it was this one.

“I’m being pursued!” Tithe yelled to the TF01 Battle Droids mounting a sentry in the entrance lobby to the IMP500. “Prorogue her!” The droids recognised Tithe from the deep-system Trade Federation programming and waved him through the security checkpoint without stopping him for identification. He heard the droids organising themselves into a firing line as he hurried toward the turbolifts.

The Aargauun swiped his IMP500 stock brokers code cylinder - he always kept his licence current - inside the liftcar and sent the turbolift hurtling down to the deepest vault. He withdrew a second code cylinder bearing the Trade Federation logo and used it to call up a command console for the turbolifts. He locked out the other lifts so no others could use them with a few keystrokes.

Tithe took a moment to exhale as he leaned back on the wall of the liftcar. Between the battle droids and the frozen turbolifts, surely he must be safe.

Surely.

BREAKING THE SILENCE | MUUNILINST
Aerarii Tithe

He threw credits at her.

She flinched back from the metal projectiles, her brain screaming at her to look out! Knives! Bullets! Poison! ... Even though she could see clear as day, they were nothing but little round coins.

The fecker.

A growl rumbled threw her as she dug in her heels and took chase. He might have had a head start but Vice Chancellors rarely had time for cardio. For the first time she felt close, so close, to achieving something of value.

The winding streets barely slowed her, a glimpse of orange always visible whipping around the corners if he managed a glance back. The hiss of her saber signified her arrival at the droids, but he would not be there to witness her cut them down.

She could feel him sink deeper into the building.

She scowled as the last droid fell smoking at her feet. The heat of their melted casings thrummed against her. A bead of sweat caught on her upper lip as walked, now alone, through the security checkpoint.

The air controlled building was cool. Silent. Wherever its occupants had fled to, they wouldn't be found in the open space of the lobby. She let herself sink into the force and pressed her palm against the turbolift's panel.

The lights started to blink... then spaz, as she used mechu deru to hack in. Zaavik taught her this. She wasn't the best, but it was enough... enough to make the door woosh open. Stale, warm air scattered her curls as she beheld the drop into nothing. She stepped forward, welcoming the dark that encased her as she willed herself to fall faster.

Thunk.

The lift rattled as she slammed into it. A moment later, a yellow saber pierced through the ceiling, it's molten path drawing a circle.

BREAKING THE SILENCE // MUUNILINST
Guarantor | Visions of Gold | Taxman’s Embrace | Limited Liability | Attire
Darth Daiara

The loud thud as something hit the roof of the turbolift was the first sign that Tithe was still in harm's way.

The flash of light as a golden blade began cutting through the roof of the liftcar served as confirmation that his Sith pursuer had not been deterred by the battle droids or the hijacked turbolifts. She was determined to not let him get away easily.

The turbolift came to a hold and Tithe hurried out into the high-security vault. Using his Trade Federation code cylinder he opened the heavy blastdoor and slipped inside just as he heard the Sith finished her cutting and drop into the turbolift. He slapped the close button behind him though doubled the reinforced doors would seal in time.

The cavernous vault was truly a wonder of engineering. Over generations, the Muuns had perfected the art and science of storing and protecting the galaxies valuables. Rows upon rows of shelves, storage racks, repulsor pods and carbonite blocks encased untold riches, piled high toward the distant roof of the vault. Material from any planet or environment could be carefully catalogued and preserved down here for an eternity.

Tithe selected a row at random and hurried down it. He recalled a TF meeting as part of Muunilinst’s rebuilding where the discussion had turned to escape tunnels and safe rooms build into the vaults to offer a means of safety for personnel trapped inside during a robbery. While he couldn’t recall the exact location, he could know it when he saw it.

The distinctive thrumming of a lightsaber warned Tithe that the Sith was nearby. He slowed his pace and began creeping between priceless objects, looking for a means of escape. The Aargauun took up his electrohammer and activated the crackling blade. Far from a trained fighter, the best he could hope for was to hold her off long enough to find a way out of here.

“I can’t help but think we got off on the, ah, wrong foot,” he called out as he continued creeping through the vault. “Allow me to start - Vice Chancellor Aerarii Tithe of the Galactic Alliance, formerly in the employ of the Sith Empire as a Moff. But you, already knew that, yes?” Maybe if he could get her talking he could buy more time to find his way out of here in one piece.

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION
1st Brigade 'Ready-First' Combat Team
BREAKING THE SILENCE
LIFELINE | THE HEAD OF THE HYDRA
Armor | Rifle | Pistol | Grenades | Melee

THE GRUDGE​

Irveric and his cadre remained peered down the sights toward Carnifex on his slow and foreboding approach, the trained, frigid gaze of the troopers focusing solely on the man of which has been the center piece of the dogmatic propaganda villifying the Sith Empire for the nigh decade that the New Imperial Order had reigned in open defiance. And for what felt like the first time ever, he was here, in front of them.

<"Fire! Fire!"> Captain Vizek broke the silence, Tavlar's forever confidant, tracing back to the battle of Kintan, one of the company commanders assigned to his retinue alongside Waylon Treicolt, Lyra Voi'kryt. Only the first and the last remained. And with the swipe of a blade, the passing of a single moment.

Only one remained.

Carnifex disposed of him like refuse, an insect. There was no fanfare, no wisdom in those last breaths, no glorious coup de grace, no defiant last push to stay alive and defeat the enemy. Just a blade through duraplast and flesh and it was over. A career of surface, one with the ruins. The next few troopers, invigorated with rage at their fallen comrades, all fell the same. Like lifeless slaps, hitting the deck, one after the other.

Whether Irveric was spared, or avoided. He didn't know. All he knew was- he had to act. He had to kill. This man deserved nothing more.

He didn't know and certainly didn't think he was capable. For all the Sith drew from rage and emotion and for all the soldier drew from discipline, the circumstances saw a deep and dramatic change to the opposite. Irveric let his rifle fall from his hands and reached down to grasp ahold of the hilt of his retracted vibroblade, thumbing the activation before the blade and crossguard sprung out from the sword and into the open.

He lashed forward with his blade, aiming to catch the Sith sword in Carnifex's hold, relying solely on the mechanical strength of his cybernetic right arm before his left hand was hefted toward Carnifex, hand balling into a fist before he sent a jolt from the repulsor built into the vambrace toward Carnifex's abdomen.

Though he lacked the natural flow of movement that was embedded in those with the Force, he made up for it in the sporradic unpredictability that his presence void in it granted him.

Whether it'd amount to anything against this demon would all remain to be seen.

<"You speak as a man devoid of sin himself- but you'll soon answer for all of them. The sword will swing, whether by my judgement or elsewhere, you will meet your end, Zambrano."> The Imperator said, his voice behind the vocoder of his helmet and still buried in trained placidity in spite of the frantic stress that bared down on his subconscious. He just aimed to push Zambrano farther along that decreed path.

IMPERIAL SOVEREIGN
Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

DISCIPLIES OF DARKNESS
Darth Carnifex | Darth Empyrean​

 

[DECEASED Aron Gowrie]

IX
Operation: SHADOWDANCE
MUUNILINST, 865 ABY

Objective 3: BREAKING THE SILENCE
FRONT CHIMERA

Commonwealth Forces: Willan Tal Enedina Tal Tyrell Lockhart

Allies (NIO): Irveric Tavlar Rurik Fel Enlil Jaeger Harrsk
Kolson Vrask Areyon Detritus Ren
Ravraa Vyshraal Zakaria Black Hâwmâr Lurais Julian Qar Noel Strasza

Allies (NJO/GA/FO/SJC/): Aerarii Tithe Ishida Ashina Aaran Tafo Bernard Mrurh'en'lase | Hel

Allies (RGO/SOM/OTHER): Venerable of Zakuul Vilaz Munin Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

Enemies (TSE/CIS): Shuklaar Kyrdol Darth Mori Arctus Silmar Darth Empyrean Darth Carnifex
Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir Eva Betrik Lady Marrow Bastian Briareos

Gowrie's Loadout
Primary: Custom Blaster-Pistol (Right-hip Holster - left-or-right hand draw)
Secondary: Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Rapier (Left-hip Sheathe - right hand wielding)
Last Ditch/Second-Blade: Fairbairn Vibroknife (Right-hip Sheathe - right-or-left hand wielding)
Pocket-Weapon: Barbershop Razor (Right-pocket - right-hand wielding)

Wildcat Battalion (Mechanized/Artillery/Infantry)
55 Cataphract Tanks
20 AFVs
5 MLVs
2 Predator Launch-Platforms
2 Guardian Tac-Teams
1 Field-Medic Platoon
1 Combat-Engineer/Logistics Squad
Other Vehicles
4 Stolen MLVs
2 Stolen Ammo-Transports

The Glow of Death XIII - Scott's Rampage 3

<"McLellan to Guardian One! We hear and see your approach, you absolute madman! What's the-">

'-Scott to Guardian One-Three! The plan is COMM-CHATTER SILENCE!!! Just throw everything we've got at these Sith-freaks! Spare - no - expense!'

<"Copy that, sir! PLX-One time! Guardian One-Three out!">

Chased by what felt like an entire battalion of angry Sith-affiliated units, Leftenant Scott and Corporal Davidson would lead the escape by clearing the way for his embattled colleagues at high-gear, clearing rubble-piles of all sizes as the full-bores at the back covered their approach to safety and cover the madness behind them. Fortunately for those on the run, it was Sergeant Stewart covering their six instead of the the DIs, with Taylor's lot assigned to keep their stolen tank's turret facing forward for cover the guardsmen throughout the process. A wild and frenetic situation that occurred almost too-quickly for their liking, but as soon as the four tanks had settled into their roles, they noticed that their cover had kicked in as soon as they crossed over the main safety-marked crossroad; Tact-Team One were pressing back the momentum of the infantry who tried to bolster the increasing collective presence of enemy armoured-vehicles in hot pursuit.

Stewart's crew, in all their battlefield-experience from their days serving with the Blue-Hearts, were acquitting themselves as proficiently as expected, taking out armoured-vehicle after armoured-vehicle as they went. Taylor's crew, though they'd had a couple questionable shots in the beginning, (operating inside a stolen repulsorlift tank from Lockhart's own tally) would eventually pull through for Scott and Davidson's bulldozing advance as they bagged a few important killing-shots of their own; seeing their own handiwork up-close as the Tuaths' recent finds shunted their burning, sputtering metallic husks to one side or the other, Taylor's encouragements for his DIs to open their viewports served as fuel for their collective-urge to make the most of their retreat. Everything was going as Scott predicted, though not quite to such explosive extremes, but their much-needed cover would be far more aggressive in response, as little did the four embattled tanks know that the DIs who'd covered their retreat in the beginning had made a point of peeling off and coordinating for an ambush.

<<Taylor here. Enjoy the show, your PLX crews are going to come in handy very soon as well. DIs in the area ready to spring attack with armoured-dregs towed in behind your escape, so keep your eyes peeled. This is it mate, the biggest ambush of the op so far, and it's all thanks to you madmen from the Wildcats of Galidraan 3. Our units should team up more often if it's expected to be this much karking fun every time.
Wraith Four out.>>

Within seconds, flashlight signals were sent from up ahead to push straight through, and by the time they reached friendly lines, the scrape of a metal hulking tank being dragged across the road behind Taylor and Stewart's tanks, allowing the success of that particular rustling-run to be capitalized on in high-gear for all involved in it. Then, as the Irregular from Dunwall promised, a show was given for those peering through their opened viewports; a rain of rocket-fire, armour-piercing rounds and blaster fire lit up the closest tanks and AFVs in pursuit, completely holding up the advance of the unfortunate vehicles and infantry still trying to push on from behind the wrecked Sith-affiliated ordnance. Their admirably-brave attempts to exit and protect the other vehicles would do the Sith-troopers little favours in the slightest after that, and would prove ultimately futile as soon as the Dunwall Irregulars and the Guardian Tac-Teams enacted the latter part of their ambush attack.

'Incredible.... As that Taylor fellow from Dunwall says, maybe our units really should team up more often.'

The Glow of Death XIV - The Tuaths' Game 1

​

'Surely no, Aron! There's nae way these dafties were stoatin' aboot the place without support, an' firin' oan sniper's nests without any infantry to draw fire away from.... Makes nae sense in the slightest, man.'

Covered in reddened soot and other bloodied remnants spattered from their dead and defeated opponents, the Lord-Commander and his trusty Captain would be left in a state of befuddlement when they realized that there would be no reinforcements arriving to strengthen their attacks, all the expected backup was miles away, engaged in their own fights for survival. Rendering their excitement confined to the realms of disappointment and boredom for a while, the reality that they'd be taking the scenic route to safety annoyed the pair greatly, though it was showing more obviously with the Kellas, quietly seething as his good friend vented the healthy way. Whilst he searched the bodies of the men they'd killed, Reed would then grow quiet enough to allow his Lord-Colonel time to think, time to brainstorm aloud for both their sakes; even if it was to bore them to near-insanity, it would ensure their entry into the rustling game the lads were already calling,"Stolers!".

'Never looked at so much scenery in a single op before, but we'll have ti see plenty of it if we wanty get back ti the command-centre wae these karkin' heaps, eh? Ah, feth it! Let's just get movin' before we start gettin' stupitt ideas at the wrong time an' that.... Are ye ready, Ginge?'

'Wooooo.... More scenics, ootstandin' action the-day!', the Woad responded with all the driest sarcasm one could muster for such a reply, though still compliant enough in tone to assure the Tuath he was following the Lord-Commander's lead without any real complaints to offer. After reluctantly starting the engines and putting them in gear, both officers would then set themselves on the right road with Gowrie leading the journey back, with both happily enjoying the contents of their hipflasks in silence for the first few miles; once they'd found enough speed to make easy use of the higher forward gears, the Miltoner would break the silence again, attempting to get the excitement back on their minds once more, attempting to break the mood that was beginning to plague Lord Aron's thoughts to irritable extents. Not allowing this to worsen any further, Reed snatched up his comm-link device and asked outright,'Reed to Wildcat One! So what's the big plan, Aron? Can ye look on the map-holographic display when we pull over, mate? There surely has to be a final puzzle-piece t'this, don't you think?'

<"Gowrie to Wildcat Two! You know what, Ginge? Ah distinctly recall seeing a mass o' friendly swoop bikes begging for a real challenge.... But what if that challenge involved convincing them to act against their mass-charging lancer instincts, for something more - er - nomadic?">

'Now yer talkin', Aron! Wildcat Two out!'

 

[Viers Connory]

//: Objective //: Blood Hunter //:
//: Target //: Alina Tremiru //:
//: Allies //: NIO/GA //:

​

Plasma crashed against the wooden quarterstaff. Viers held off the vampire as she burst through the flames. She had hoped that the fire would terrify Alina long enough for an escape. But, being this close to the creature, Viers felt a brief moment of fear.

Her arms began to give against the superhuman strength behind the lightsaber. “I will MAKE them!” As she spoke, a hand reached out and threw her pocket full of sand into Alina’s face. Viers disengaged with the woman, stepping away with speed fueled by the Force.

She stumbled slightly and began to scramble towards the escape pods. Viers could feel the panic on the ship, people trying their damndest to escape. There was a choice that was made and one that was made with haste. Was the NIO ready to give up the ship before trying to fight to keep it?

If Alina was on the ship, she wondered how many more undead husks the woman left in her wake.​

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Objective //: Hunt the Emperor 2.0 //:
//: Target //: Arctus Silmar //: Kesran Opadal //:
//: Allies //: Mrurh'en'lase | Hel //: Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt //:

​

Allyson frowned, watching as the Sith waved her arrows aside; they were the same arrows that tore Vulcanus asunder on the surface of Ziost, the same arrows that forced Carnifex to show his true self. And yet, they were playthings to this Sith. The leather-fingered glove gripped tightly against the curve of the bow as he spoke and summoned his weapon.

The Alliance had enough war crimes on their hands, and when she saw her arrows being redirected to the Muun politics, she felt the panic. Her face didn’t show it, never shifting or changing with the small roller coaster of emotions she was feeling. She stood her full height as the spear launched her way, the bow raised to defend herself against it, and then the tendrils of the dark side beat against the mental defenses of the Jedi Master.

Allyson suffered years of mental training after having her mind torn apart by Emperor Carnifex. She was constantly haunted by the night terrors of being confined in the deepest and darkest dungeon on Bastion when she was barely old enough to even enlist. Her entire career was based on being someone else and constantly protecting every fiber of her mind out of sheer paranoia all lead up to this one moment. As Arctus reached and looked for a space to embed his influence into the Corellian Spy, he would meet a wall, one woven tight and secure.

Still, she heard his words. They were accurately feeding on the small worries she had for the girl fighting without her Master at her side. Allyson had faith for once in her life; she had enough confidence to trust Hel to survive. “Cute trick, too bad Carnifex already ruined that parlor trick for ya.”

The spear met her bow as she defended herself, pushing the weighted weapon aside. Her body moved aside to avoid the spear and kept her free from harm for the most part. The Jedi disappeared and used the moment of invisibility to drop into coverage. A voice finally answered, and she blinked, recognizing it for the most part. Allyson shook her arm, and a tiny slicing spider made its way from her armor and sat at her feet. <I’ll do my best; I am in the Muun capital building.> Through the Force, she ushered the command sequence to the spider, and it wandered off to search for a wall terminal that she had seen on her way in. <Give it about 10 mins, you should find some relief soon.>

Nocking another arrow, the Corellian peeled out of the cover, and the HUD display from the cybernetic eye zeroed in on the Sith. It allowed her to keep track of the slicing spider, which seemed to successfully find a terminal to begin the counter hack.

Dropping the Force Cloak, Allyson revealed herself and the arrow, “How about you and I take this dance outside? Let these guys go; they’ve got nothing to do with any of this.” As much as she wanted to fire the next arrow, Allyson kept it aimed, “I’m curious to see if the Emperor is a better fighter than he is a dancer?”​

 

[Zakaria Black]

Zakaria Black
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
M U U N I L I N S T

​

U N S U N G _ R E D O U B T , O R B I T

General Zakaria stood aboard the bridge of the Unsung Redoubt, the flagship of the battlegroup dispatched from Bastion as reinforcements to the critical system of Muunilinst from Sith Imperial incursion. Officers around the bridge would talk with one another as the lion of a man Zakaria stared at a holographic display in front of him that showed the space around the planet a similar map appearing showing the planet's embattled surface. The Sith were running amok on the surface as the fleet was doing its best to maintain naval superiority.​

​

The atmosphere aboard the bridge would shift slightly as the ship lurched out of hyperspace over the planet Muunilinst as Zakaria grabbed his helmet and placed it over his head, twisting it left and right to snuggly secure it as he departed from the bridge, making way for the hangar as he patched his comms into the Imperial battlenet. He activated the comms as soon as he was patched in, " This is General Zakaria - Reinforcements from Bastion have arrived. Hold fast. "​

​

Zakaria passed by the armory as he grabbed his weapons, holstering and strapping in as the troops scrambled to the hangars for transportation to the surface. Reinforcements would be deployed as necessary to whoever needed it most as well as prioritizing key locations. A platoon of troopers would follow the general onto one of the transports as they prepared for imminent battle, ready to lay down their lives in the service of the New Imperial Order, not just because of how important the location was, but because what the New Imperial Order represented and stood for against the threat of Sith - Hope.​

[ Theme ]

Irveric Tavlar / Rurik Fel / Enlil / Jaeger Harrsk / Kolson Vrask / Areyon / Detritus Ren / Ravraa Vyshraal / Noel Strasza​

 

[Bernard]

Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows.
In the great hour of destiny they stand,
Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows.
----
Trouble On My Mind​

Harnaidan, Muunilinst
+0:52 h after First Contact
Damask Plaza, Southern Cultural Centre

BLUFOR: GA, NIO, Ishida Ashina
OPFOR: TSE, Eva Betrik , Bastian Briareos ​

<You’re..bleeding.>

The voice came in twice, once over the radio, and again, quieter, from behind.

"Huh, wha-" Bernard cut himself off.

He sat crouched on one knee next to a pile of boxes, neat rows of colourful munitions arrayed at his feet. He looked up from the pile to find Ishida standing at the entrance, opposite from him in the tent.

"That was fast, welcome. I don't really feel anything-"

He straightened to press a hand against his lower back, right below where the searing sensation had persisted. When the fabric of his glove touched the area a sharp jolt of pain ran up his spine. He flinched and pulled away, finding a red sheen covering the back of his glove.

"Oh."

The burning sensation subsided slowly, but the ache remained. He tried to turn again, to look but found another flash of pain run up his side. Shrapnel must have lodged itself into his back from the explosion. Both the cart and the table held enough material alone, and for all he knew the bomb the Sith had used had been some form of anti-infantry variant. Now that he took a moment to let the events sink in, he couldn't remember the moment of the explosion itself either. One moment he was running, the next he found himself on the floor. The blast wave had been powerful enough to knock him straight onto the duracrete, it was likely the fall had knocked him out for a few seconds.

He grunted, turning back to the crate contents on the floor beside him.

"It's fine. I have some bacta patches, that'll do the trick. But first, this is a lot more important," he said, a grin clearly forming at the edge of his lips.

In the time Ishida had taken to arrive, he'd unloaded as many of the Bazco Entertainment crates as he had found and began to combine them with his own resources, tinkering away to create the tools necessary to enact his plan. As he put the finishing touches on his work he started talking her through the plan.

"So, Bazco Entertainment Solutions. Fairly low-profile party supplies company that sells all kinds of things, from candles to pyrotechnics. Straightforward, right? But," he waved his finger to underline his point, "they're banned in Alliance space for one critical reason. They lack copious amounts of restraint when it comes to their fireworks' explosive yields. They're way off the safety regulation charts, and owning their fireworks basically falls under the same criminal law as unauthorized possession as military-grade ordnance. Makes them real popular in the Outer Rim, though."

He picked up one of the fireworks and held it into the light. The lengthy stick of matte-grey painted wood had a wide cylindrical upper half that almost looked like a mortar shell. A small device was affixed to the rocket-head, blinking red.

"Now guess what happens when you add some detonators into the mix?"

His grin grew wicked as he looked back to Ishida.

About a dozen of the modified explosives had been completed. Some had detonators fixed to them, others colourful vials full of decorative dust, others still had cobbled fire crackers haphazardly tied to them. It was any pyromaniac's wet dream.

"Now, the reason I need your help with this is, first, one arm," he waved with his healthy arm, contrasting with the bandaged one, "and two, you still have the Force. You can guide these things into Sith troops to create a maximal degree of chaos in their ranks, while I prep them for you. Ideally, that creates enough confusion to give the rangers and civilians enough time to get out of here mostly unscathed."

He scooped up as many of the fireworks as he could and began to make his way over to Ishida. In the light the red marks on his face became more apparent.

"Now how about we put on a show for our red-dome'd friends? I figure the people of Muunilinst would be delighted to give them a proper welcome."

 

[Enlil]

Convictions and Concessions

"We are the architects of our own actions
and we must live with their consequences
whether glorious or tragic."
​

Everything had culminated to this point, through blood, sweat, and sacrifice. The Imperium had grown far from the Sith in ideology on the surface, but men like Rausgeber and Harrsk held fast to their antiquated systems of control and sterility. They balked at the Sith religion, but not at the horrors that made it operate. Every decision Enlil made for the good of the people, every sacrifice in the name of unity were as daggers, small but decisive cuts in the fabric that ultimately ruined the grand design. He was through with compromise. Not with men like this.

That was his resolution. It was his conviction. As the room steadily climbed and the humidity ebbed away, he could feel the sandpaper harshnesss of his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Both his eyes stung. By now, metal in the room had taken on the heat and assimilated its properties. Clothing and tools would be rendered unbearable, painful, and Enlil watched as the realization struck home. Harrsk's wrist mounted sonic cannon now steamed on his wrist, hot enough to boil skin. Enlil hoped it would be enough to disarm him- but the heat hadn't grown enough yet. The flames of an ancient religion and the Justice of the King took time to build.

The Grand Vizier had to facilitate an environment conducive to putting the man to the torch.

Just a bit longer...

"You want to save people?" he couldn't help but to laugh. It was painful, it made his mind reel, but the insanity in Harrsk's words was evident to anyone but the man himself. "You've played all of this up into some agenda about making the Galaxy a better place, and deluded yourself into actually believing it. But Commissioner... these people aren't your currency to pay with."

The King let out a sigh, even as the air burnt his lips. His lungs were fire, his world growing redder with every moment. He could see only Harrsk now, and the grim duty that each of them had been called to. Enlil closed his eyes. "Each and every man is owed the right to law and order, but in turn the right to decide whether they want to reject it or not. So many of these people don't even care about the question you're asking. They aren't even fighting the same holy war that you're playing on repeat in your mind, and you want to martyr them all for the cause?"

He took a deep breath and held it in. The warmth inside his own body continued to grow, disproportional to the world around it. "In the end, it was never about order or safety." The King locked his eyes on Jaeger now as he prepared for the coming endgame.

"It was always about you."

Jaeger Harrsk​

 

[Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir]

Adrian L’lerim Terassi Vandiir
Prince of the Eternal Empire, Disciple/Acolyte, assassin, sorcerer and alchemist
Uncrowned King of the Pocket Sand, Heir of the House L’lerim, Member of the Primyn Group​

Location: Muunilinst???, Definitely not Kalidan
Objective II.: Breaking the Silence; Survive
Equipment: Mnami Mirsûra, The Crow Cane | Deck of the Pocket Sand | Estran Attire | G1 OmniLink || Empyrean gland
Tag: Jax Thio (planning) | Open

[ Supreme ] ​

The store looked like some kind of grocery store for the young man. There were countless shelves and rows in it, with groceries and other everyday items in it. He managed to find a place he could look out onto the street, but chances are he wouldn’t be noticed. He reached into the Force to find out if there were others nearby. Since he was just a disciple, his power was pretty much limited and he could only map the store with it. However it was more than nothing.

He could only find out about things on the street based on the infiltrating voices, he could no longer hear the civilians, so there was a good chance they had disappeared from the street. He didn't know how much they saw him, could they tell me where he hid, but he didn't want to risk it. The store was empty anyway, there was no one nearby, that is, inside. As he looked around with his eyes, he also saw a rear exit. He hoped he could get through it to some better place that is safer than that.

However, he could not leave yet because the soldier and three others arrived on the street and stopped in front of the shop. Adrian couldn’t hear what they were talking about because they were far away or they were just using communication within the helmet, along with some hand gestures. The result was the same, he didn’t know what they wanted, just based on the signs to look around everywhere. Feth! Why can't they just go and look for him? Three headed in different directions and a fourth headed for the store.

 

[Alina Tremiru]

Objective: Rescue Ingrid L'lerim
Location: Space
Equipment: See Sig | Tremiru House Guard
Allies: TSE/EE
Enemies: NIO / GA
Tags: Kuben Woods | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Trajan Fett | Jivim Vaak | Rexus Wenck | Commodore Curtis Rheardon | Albrecht F. Herlock | Delvrarus Sanders | Grand Moff Decimus | Tranquility | Errix Feh'room | Seela Leini | Moff Drybis Lyken | Calruss Shiman | Darth Banshee | The Amalgam | LT-137 | Viers Connory (Engaging)

Pocket sand.

Alina couldn't even be mad this time. The sand filled her eyes, blurring everything. She could tell Viers was running. Unlike before, she didn't need her eyes at all to fight. But, it was an excuse. She didn't chase the young Jedi. Her mission wasn't to kill her, and she felt no need to even try. So she stood, rubbing at her eyes until vision returned. Behind her the last of her guard arrived.

So Damian had met with some resistance? Well, all the more reason for her to carry on to the bridge. She nodded once to the large Wookie before glancing down the hall to where Viers had gone.

".. Then make them." She muttered the selfish request to herself. Then, shoulders square and lightsaber back on her hip, she rushed the rest of the way to the bridge. Chaos was everywhere. The ship truly was planning to blow itself up to stop the Sith. Astounding. Though, that's why it was Alina and Damian that had been sent. Damian, expendable. Alina, able to survive the vacuum.

The Tremiru guard descended like death to those in her path. She didn't bother making any more ghouls, instead focused on reaching the destination. Finding the Empress. Getting the hell out off the ship of some crazed and suicidal commander. Yet by the time she made it to the bridge, she was alone. Her guard was invisible, preparing their assault.

Another of Alina's selfish requests; try to end it more peacefully.

"Ah, Mandalorian. That makes the suicide more believable. How selfish of the commander of this ship to set it to you to throw your life away while he runs."