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

[Kiara Ayres]

Objective: III - Breaking the Silence | Lifeline
Allies: NIO | GA | SJC
Hostiles: TSE | Open
Tags: Bright4 Varn Barakis​

The Concord played their role of galactic defenders by indiscriminately deploying Jedi and their own elite Rangers to aid of their Imperial neighbours. Even without the Accords which had led to the Silver Order's presence on Muunilinst, after receiving protection in the battle of Sev Tok, it was only just that they return the favour. Unlike in their relentless endeavours against the Bryn'adul, now they were in their element as they came to clash with their historic enemies once again in a battle of blades and philosophies.

After years of being locked away in a library as a researcher, the Jedi Consular made her recent debut in battle on Nar Kreeta and was still refining her previously unused skills as a duellist. Despite her new role as a diplomat, she deemed it important to represent the Silver Order in battle. How could they ever respect her if they couldn't see she was one of them?

The mood within the group, as evident by the nuanced ripples in the Force, was composed. After the trauma all had faced against the horrors of the Bryn'adul, many had become desensitised to wars on other fronts but they needed to remain cautious that they didn't allow themselves to fall into complacency.

Around them, enemy forces were beginning to take a hold in some sectors of the city but they had found a small amount of peace where they were, in a train station below the surface where groups of citizens hid in fear. The Jedi Master had sensed their terror from afar and diverted their group to the civilians to protect them while they organised their evacuation.

The partially collapsed station was dim with several lights twisted and broken or flickering. The sound of blaster fire was distant but circumstances were volatile so they needed to move quickly. "We need to move out in groups of four at a time." She told the group who were watching the Jedi Master expectantly, the horrors of war shining in their eyes.

The group moved to organise themselves into quartets. A method which would allow each group to be evacuated while allowing for adequate protection from the Jedi. Kiara turned to speak to the Knight and Padawan accompanying her. "We hold some ground just North of here. We'll take the civilians there but someone needs to stay behind to-" She immediately stopped at the sound of a blaster bolt on the ground overhead. The shots grew louder and more frequent as their allied forces engaged with the enemy.

They had run out of time.

 

[Areyon]

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

The ground shook around him. A concurrent feeling that occurred on the battlefield, but this rumbling was closer. The vibrations under his feet told him so. Looking to the sky he saw what caused such destruction. Not too far from him, he witnessed a Sith dropship stay stationary in the air while paratroopers' cascade from the wide-open doors. The stormtroopers who took up defensive positions around the street scrambled to get ready for an attack. Areyon stood vigilantly.

He would not let anyone pass him, for the sake of the city, the people, and the planet.

A small force of Sith troopers would be flagged down by a stormtrooper, and Areyon held his fist up to yield their fire. Pre-mature fire was sure not to hit its target. But what caught his eye was their apparent leader. He could feel the dark side energy radiating from her, so much so that he thought he would be sick. Her appearance was outlandish, nothing he had ever seen before, but from her attire he knew what he was dealing with.

"Uhm, hi! I'm sorry but we have to get past here, you see, I don't want many people to be hurt. But if we could just get to that building over there, this fight will end. And we can get to being friends!"

As she talked to him, his anger started to rise. Just the sound of her voice was enough to get enraged. Once she was done talking, he did not reply as he did not feel as if he had to talk. It would not matter anyway as the time for talking had passed long ago. Areyon stood posed with his lightsaber pike held in front of him in a ceremonial stance, but it soon shifted into a stance of attack. His blade went from in front of his head to his side, his legs in a position to spring, and his hands steadily gripping the shaft of the pike. The air around them went stale as nothing happened. His fist went up once more and in one hand signal the stormtroopers began their assault. He started his own. His pike activated with one motion and with a step we cut across his body hoping to catch the Sith off-guard with his sudden motion.

Allies | NIO | GA
Hostiles | Sith | Lady Marrow

 

[Gallius Orcana]

ALLIES | NIO | GA | SoM | SJC | NJO | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Trajan Fett | Jivim Vaak | Rexus Wenck | Commodore Curtis Rheardon | Albrecht F. Herlock | Delvrarus Sanders
ENEMIES | TSE | CIS | EE | Grand Moff Decimus | Kuben Woods | Alina Tremiru | Tranquility | Errix Feh'room | Seela Leini | Moff Drybis Lyken | Ingrid L'lerim | Calruss Shiman | Darth Banshee | The Amalgam

NIV PRIDE OF THE EMPEROR

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
AZURE HAMMER COMMAND

C A R L A C​

Gallius hated Carlac. He had had enough of cold worlds, and his incapacity to defend Csilla had left a bitter feeling. He sensed it, whenever he relieved his lieutenant on the deck, taking command of his now-formidable fleet. Something dark had awakened in the Chiss space, something that threatened to consume the entire galaxy. And he could not help it. On the battlefield, his feeble affinity to the Force was helpful, and this boon helped him to anticipate dangers, and play smart. But for now, while his mind was not bathed in blood, the Force was pressing against the frontiers of his mind.

It reminded him of Darth Janus, the Sith he had killed above Bastion when he had turned against the Empire. Janus had been his fleet commander for years, and each time he was on the bridge, Gallius felt the same dark presence, pushing into his mind. It took him every ounce of strength to fight back and deny the Sith free access to his mind. Zart, he hated the Sith. And he had finally understood above Bastion that this uncomfortable presence could be chased if Death was invited on the battlefield. The voices demanded blood, and when blood was spilt, they were going away.

The Commodore knew perfectly how his connexion to the Force worked. If he wanted help, he had to kill. And the voices would reward him with mighty visions, premonitions and other feelings helpful on the battlefield. The officer did not know or did not consider the existence of "sides" in the Force. Little did he know about the mystical inspirations of the Jedi and the Sith. He was not a religious man, and until the voices weren't helpful, he would use them. They were tools, not masters or gods. He had pledged himself to the Imperator and the Anaxsi, and he would not add a third oath to his already complicated allegiance tree. The voices were useful, but he was superior to them. And work needed to be done here. He had to stop thinking about unreal voices demanding blood every time he did not raise his mental defences.

The Azure Hammer Command was there for a good reason. Carlac had been home of the Dalness Manufacturings since House Haskler of Anaxes had joined the New Imperial Order in its quest to destroy the Sith Empire. Hence, prefabricated buildings and small shipyards had been installed thanks to the planet's master approval, Lord Halketh. But as Julius Haskler had been appointed Moff of Yinchorr, the decision had been taken to move the Dalness shipyards and factories. And now, while the ex-Fifth Fleet had stationed above Carlac to repair and receive new ships, Lord Haskler had requested its help escorting the factories to the other end of the New Imperial space. Gallius had complied. He was now supervising transports leaving the system and assigning ships to them. That daunting task was almost at an end, and Orcana was thankful for that.

And as the last transport left, he received a notification on his datapad. Javelin was coming in. The Sith defector had been silent since Generis, but he had chosen to send a warning message. Orinackra. This was surprising for the least. Even if he was avoiding contact with the Grand Admiral, Gallius knew it was the system where the captured Eternal Empress had to transit. It was worrying. Did that mean a Sith attack was planned there? Should Gallius alert Bastion? Or the Grand Admiral directly? He took a few seconds to think about it, but then an Ensign called him. Never before had been convoked to a subaltern's station, but given his reputation, the Commodore knew it had been something very pressing. And Orcana chose to come.

"What is it, Ensign? I hope you have important news, Gallius told the young officer as he arrived in front of him. His preoccupied manner reflected the number of tasks he was dealing with at the same time.
"I bet it is, Commodore. I have received an order sent from Orinackra recalling the Bastion Fleet. The message bears Grand Admiral Rausgeber's authentication symbol. Shall I respond accordingly?"

Gallius was thinking about it. He had the duty to answer the call, but he was also assigned a mission by House Haskler. The conflicting priorities were giving a headache to the officer. He was, after all, a warrior, and he could be at Orinackra in less than an hour. He needed a few information before he could jump in, of course, but hopefully, he would be there in time. How could he resist a battle? The voices were demanding blood.

"Give me whatever information we have on that system. And prepare the fleet for a jump, he ordered the Ensign.
"Yes sir... Orinackra... unimportant planet, surrounded by ion fields and debris. Unsuited for larger vessels. We would have to abandon the battleships, sir."
"This is no problem. Position the Tormentor and the other heavy ships in a way they can intercept the Sith fleeing from Orinackra. And calculate the jump. I'll inform Lord Haskler of the new situation."
"Should I contact Admiral Rausgeber to announce the reinforcements?"
"Do not. He will learn soon enough."

And with that, it took Gallius a few seconds to contact Yinchorr and explain the attack the fleet was under. With clearance to leave the transports and rush to battle, the Commodore sent an urgent and encrypted message to Javelin. He needed every information he could to thwart the enemy attack, and Javelin would give him what he needed. IFFs, mainly. If he was able to have a clear view of the enemy fleet, and how it was attacking, then, combined with the New Imperials' tactical genius, no one would stand in their way. The voices. They would have blood.

O R I N A C K R A​

The fleet jumped out of hyperspace, its loose formation inviting anyone to attack. Gallius had perfected this strategy for years, using it efficiently against anyone that stood in his path. Little did they know this apparent weak composure was a false one. The Azure Hammer Command was not weak at all. According to Chiss strategists, a seemingly weak fleet exiting from hyperspace was an invitation to the enemy attack. The Commodore had refined the technique again and again and knew how to foil ambushes. The Sith would not resist a disorganised fleet, shields lowered after the hyperspace jump, comm. and sensors disrupted by the travel. What better way to win the battle than to destroy the reinforcements?

The Sith would have come to the logical conclusion that while the new fleet was weak and too far away from the New Imperial bulk, they needed to strike. That way, they would prevent a large portion of the New Imperial Navy to join, and they could win the battle easier. But they were wrong. They were not counting on Gallius's plan to reorganise his fleet quickly, and his apparent weakness would only last a few seconds. Most importantly, they were not counting on Gallius's communications with Javelin. The cornerstone of his plan, the Sith defector would provide all the support he would ask for.

"Alright, we are going to show weaknesses for ten more seconds, counting... now. Status report on hangar bays and turbolasers, Ensign, Gallius ordered, staring at the observation pane.
"Turbolasers are at 90 per cent power, charging up, sir. Ion cannons ready. Hangar bays unlocked, bombers loaded. We are ready to proceed."
"Excellent. Begin advance towards Rausgeber's starboard flank, deactivate turbolasers security measures and release control. Artillery teams to work. Gallius continued to study the void, wondering where the Sith were hiding. All he needed was their position, and the trick he had learned on Csilla would be to use. Status report on our tractor beams?"
"Tractor beams ready and control is overridden. We now aim from the deck."
"Elevation, one hundred thirty-one. Full power to the tractor beams. Advance, slow. We are leaving the ecliptic surface. Proceed to join the Admiral's fleet and open a comm channel. I want to talk with this... man."

The fleet began leaving the ecliptic plane, hovering above the field, and gaining as much altitude as possible. It was important for the next phase to come. And while the fleet was dashing forward, weapons unlocked and began to move in place. The fleet was ready for war, and anyone daring to approach it would face death. The voices demanded blood. Excellent. The Azure Hammer Command would give them what they desired.

The simple thought of the coming battle made Gallius's blood boil. The thrill of death, the excitation of danger... He craved those. Not just because of the voices. But because it was the perfect occasion to feel like a god. The Commodore was not religious, he was God. Leading a fleet to battle, being able to wreak such havoc on whoever stood in his path... He lacked demiurgic powers, but he was still God. No one would resist him.

And as a reward, visions again flocked in. They made his head explode in pain, his eyes wide open. It was like consuming deathsticks whilst never eating one. He was ecstatic. And as he began to lose sight of the real world, a golden cloud surrounded his mind and took him away from the mortal realm.

A dragon, striking through the void.
A monster, bargaining with an angel.
A God, reaping the enemy.
An Imperial eye watching.
A Hammer, wrought to destroy the dragon.
The blood, spilt for unholy divinities.

And with a shiver, everything ended. He saw the visions faint and merge with the normal world. He was back in command.

"Close in, he ordered. We need blood."

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

AZURE HAMMER COMMAND - FIFTH FLEET​

Name​

Class​

Status​

Commander​

NIV Pride of the Emperor	Cuirassier-class Cruiser	- Fully crewed, Active	Gallius Orcana​
NIV Conqueror	Cuirassier-class Cruiser	- Fully crewed, Active	Captain Kir Ralkhone - NPC
AIV Foudroyant	Foudroyant-class Fleet Carrier Vessel	- Fully crewed, Active	Jack Daniel
NIV Revanchist	Donnager-class Star Destroyer	- Fully crewed, Active	Captain Gar Ventanus - NPC
NIV Percussor	Donnager-class Star Destroyer	- Fully crewed, Active	Commander Sev Vatar - NPC
NIV Shadow of the Emperor	Donnager-class Star Destroyer	- Fully crewed, Active	Commander Ma'nuu'roduo - NPC
NIV Anaxes's Honour	Inceptus-class Assault Ship	- Fully crewed, Active	Commander Viel Yularen - NPC
NIV Iron Fist	Inceptus-class Assault Ship	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant-Commander Jurg Haskler - NPC
AIV Pride of Anaxes	X100-class Escort Frigate	- Fully crewed, Active	Albrecht F. Herlock
AIV Courageous	X100-class Escort Frigate	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant-Commander James Halsey - NPC
AIV Audacious	X100-class Escort Frigate	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant-Commander Julius E. Mannerheim - NPC
NIV Cygnus	Escolta-class Frigate	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant-Commander Len Pard - NPC
NIV Imperial Paragon	Escolta-class Frigate	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant Giel Thrackan - NPC
AIV Oceanos	Veers-class Star Galleon	- Fully crewed, Active​	Delvrarus Sanders
AIV Silencieux	Silencieux-class Stealth Corvette	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant Lucas Traumen - NPC
NIV Imperial Hand	Caçadores-class Corvette	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant Dek Rakad - NPC
NIV Eternal Crusader	Caçadores-class Corvette	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant Fulthius Rax - NPC

 

[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: Caarlyle Rausgeber | Trajan Fett

[ Requiem for a Dream ] ​

She also listened to the interlude between Kurze and Rausgeber. This can later be used by her, that such a betrayal prepares in the top circles of the NIO if she survives this. For the woman, this can be useful information to protect her own with her. They mattered the most to her. She wanted to protect them from Bryn’adûl. What was really confusing now was that she hadn’t gotten information in recent months. It should have taken a long time to see through everything. And after that came the insidious blow…

Immediately felt the man's anger, and saw that she had managed to find one of the vulnerable points on the man's ego. It was the same as the woman’s, if her loyalty is questioned, she was able to kill too. Although there was a huge difference between the two of them, she did so with cold professionalism, without emotion, and showed no weakness. Too much emotion is dangerous, Ingrid learned from them first. She took advantage of this and used to defeat Rausgeber.

Never show weakness!

Saw what the man showed the world, but she felt the truth. The raging and growing rage, the humiliation inside him. She already knew what was going to happen here, she had already won over Rausgeber here. Faster than she thought. Just live until she overthrows this man. The Empress couldn’t have hurt the NIO from the inside better than this. As the chair turned in front of the panel, she already knew the method. The truth will reveal...

As the man grabbed her hair, the two pairs of blue eyes still looked into Rausgeber's eyes. It showed up on her face, she knows what will be his next move. She wasn't trying to escape, she wasn't afraid, she was not begging, just waiting with cold, icy calm for what would happen, more precisely when. It would only have been a thought for her to escape to avoid this. She didn't make this step. Felt the man's life force, even more due his anger, for a moment she felt hunger.

"For a moment I thought you wanted to kiss me, Admiral Regent! You lost, I won!" She purred, a victorious smile appeared on her lips, of course she didn't believe the kiss for a moment, but she continued to annoy the others.

The next moment, her face met the panel. She may not have been human, but the pain was the same, the “bleeding” as well. Blood came from the “broken” nose, the ruptured eyebrow, to the panel. She was dizzy and now she was really nauseous, a concussion. Spat out a dose of "blood." she didn't count how many times the man had hit her head on the panel. She only retained consciousness due to her regeneration. Besides Rausgeber's screams and shouting, she heard Adrian's desperate voice. She saw the same look as on Bastion.

The blood was gone, at least that was no longer in contact with the woman. Not a drop of blood was visible on the panel, the monitor, they turned into black smoke, the drops flowing from the woman's face also disappeared like black smoke. The wounds were bleeding and black smoke came out of them as well, the smaller wounds contracted and disappeared before Rausgeber's eyes, and the deeper ones began to heal slowly. Although Ingrid gasped more often, she didn't scream, she didn't give any signs of pain, even though it hurt a lot. She was tough but she felt pain.

Never show weakness!

Her training in torture for years served precisely such cases. She was already tortured as a little girl to endure real torture once. Ingrid looked at the man, though her head was hard to hold, fortunately the man still grabbed and held her by her hair. Ingrid laughed softly again despite the pain.

"Can't you convince yourself that you're waiting for someone else to believe you?" She asked hoarsely. "If you were to serve him, the NIO would be the first, not your own interest, Admiral Regent. You don't control anything…"

She coughed up a dose of blood, which also turned into smoke. The next moment she leaned to the ground and the man kicked her in the ribs. It was the same as any other point on her body because she only had ribs with shape-shifting, but it was still painful. Adrian almost yelled at her, begging Ingrid to turn off her pain-sensing receptors. She didn't. The red-haired woman moaned after trampling on her head, but she didn't scream. Does not give this joy to this worm. And Rausgeber continued what he started; she did not count the trampling anymore.

Never show weakness!

And she will never betray her home, her empire, her people. If she has to die for them, she will, because they are the first. A worm like Rausgeber will not break her. She gasped frequently, barely seeing with her eyes, whistling as she took a breath. Tears pinch her eyes, but no! She will not show weakness, they will not break her. She had to stay strong for her home, for the Empire.

"But… yes… I am… in… that… position, and… I… I… always will be…! You… will… never… break… me…, Admiral… Regent… Whatever… is… going… to happen… here…, this… is… the… end… of… you… and… your… career!"

Her voice trembled, but she still spoke without emotion, without anger. She was dizzy, barely seen, by now all parts of her were in pain, but to show these as little as possible. The woman was just trying to get over the pain when she was released. Tried to get up alone, showing no weakness. If she had only been human, she probably wouldn’t have succeeded. However, for the first time since she was a prisoner she did not cooperate. It was hard to stay on her feet, to concentrate, but she reached out to the Force and with a telekinetic push tried to push the soldiers apart to be alone.

Her body and face, despite regeneration, were severely injured, blurred vision, dizzy, in pain, but she pulled herself out. She wanted to hate him want to feel anger, but she couldn't. The Empress felt only emptiness just like, as she faced Runi Verin, the woman who had killed Adrian. Despite her crushing, she “radiated” strength and victory to Kurze and Rausgeber. They were not defeated her, they could not defeated her.

"I'm not going anywhere. I’ll stay here, I’m the GA's and NIO's prisoner of war and I’ll stay that way. Didn't you think about why I'm still here? Why did I not escape, or why did the Eternal Empire never send anyone to my rescue? Think, my dear Admiral Regent…"

If she could, she went closer, though dizzy and not well, still showing no weakness. Pulled her back stiffly, still an untouchable statue. She staggered for a moment, but regained her balance. There were still black wounds on her face, from which black smoke had evaporated instead of blood.

"That was all? What are you capable of, Admiral Regent? Is that all that’s left of the fame and pride of your bloodline and family? A traitorous, aggressive, hysterical little boy? I was expecting more than that!"

She staggered again and dizzy, if she could, she was completely step close to the man.

"Rather, tell me how much you want Pa’Desh and her treasures and what would you do to ensure that this day is not a day of your complete downfall and loss of your life, Grand Admiral?" She asked, this time she was the one who tried to gently stroke the man's face, but she is not intended harm him, she don’t have to. The purring sound was somewhat marred by her voice shaking from the pain and her condition, and the fact that she didn't know how long she would be able to stay conscious without consuming vitality or when she would collapse. "I’m willing to make a deal with you, but now I’m dictating the terms, not you. You have more to lose than me, my dear Admiral. But I still can able to save you."

 

[Lady Marrow]

​

Tag: Areyon / Detritus Ren
Objective: III - Front Hydra
Equipment: The Marrow Blade
Themes: Here

The ambiance which serenaded this clandestine meeting would resonate with the flashes of phosphorescent light which would glimmer in the background of the planet around them. Storm troopers en-garde as the Mycetic Lady of the Garden would approach, her own weapon in hand as the veritable legion before her would seek to come down hard on the group. She wasn't one for empathy, ascertaining the moods of humanoids was hard, complex, nuanced. But she knew anger and hatred, animal senses which would carry on the breeze pheromonally if it were allowed to, and even then its presence could almost be witnessed, posture, body language rigid and ready to fight.

Her words seemed to reverberate within the drums of deaf ears, her opponent didn't talk, only acted upon his world it seemed. A single hand sign would cause Lady Marrow's head to cock to one side, curiosity and an intrinsic inquisitiveness getting the better of her for a moment as she opened her mouth to inquire the meaning behind such an action. Was it a gesture of good will? An order to halt? A surrender!? But qestions were answered or set aside as the rain came intending to wash them all away with the morning rain. The serenade of crimson red light-sabers being drawn would echo through the area like a rain of brass petals as blasters would tear into the street. Her Sith soldiers attempting to deflect as many bolts back in return as possible however their lack of defensive training saw a couple of them gunned down in the initial crossfire before they had the chance to hold their ground.

Fighting out in the open like this was bad! Really Bad. Lady Marrow would point to her sides and her men would disperse into the surrounding houses and structures, the ability to use the urban cover would be advantageous for plethora of reasons. Fighting these creatures wall to wall in enclosed spaces would all but eliminate their ability to truly utilize their advantage of numbers, as they would need to hunt them down. Lady Marrow had given her enemy their objective... and not for no reason. These men now knew what the stakes were going to be, they couldn't let a single one of them slip past their web.

The Silver one that stood in the middle held a much longer weapon than she did as he would lunge at her with ferocity, a blade engaging from the end of the weapon much like her own with his simultaneous stike. Instinctively, her Marrow blade would eject red as the blood red suns of Tatooine, pain shooting through her body before she had a chance to begin feeding it her power willingly. Having raised0the weapon in two hands in an arch over her head, blade angled down in an overhead block she'd defend against the coming swing at her shoulder height. Although the blow strained her wounded arm, the strike would have likely been knocked off her feet doing so were it not for her claws digging into the duracrete... And even so she was shaken.

Finally she would mold her power into the blade willingly as it warped into a sickly, vibrant, radioactive green, tendrils first reaching through the garnet hue corrupting it until it warped in full... not like the blades of the Jedi Consulars, twisted like nuclear emerald lightning, somehow sickening. A toothy shark-like smile would draw across the face of lay marrow, pointed canines emphasizing the predatory grin that stretched across her features in a string of rogue moons. ~This one, knows how to play~

"I guess we can't be friends then..." She would muse out loud for her opponent to engage with. Her stance wasn't like the stance of a classic light-saber form, more like that of a conventional fighter, Form One would likely come to mind from the perspective of a traditional light-saber duelist. Pressing forward with the lock on her blade, she would attempt to cast it over her head' allowing his horizontal strike to follow through as one of her two tails would produce its toothy sickle like barbs laced with her inert haemotoxin. Spinning with the parry, she would sling for the back of his heel opposite the direction of his moving weapon to tag any gap in his armour, attempting to rake backward and tear what parts of his achilles he could with the barbed bio-saw.

The blades on her tails would sing through the air, whistling a song of intended carnage as they would hope to cut through him like they would through the plasteels and armour-weave they were capable of gliding through with relative ease, safe from the immediate reprisal of his weapon as she would push her counterattack. All the while the sound of speeder bikes could be heard beginning to roar ever closer. Lady Marrow could not see where they were coming from, or what direction yet, but it seemed reinforcements were on their way... she was deep in the enemy lines, the frontline far behind her leaving her isolated but with the best chance to cut off reinforcements to that frontline as others would route to deal with her strike force, but also giving her the clearest cut towards the government building.

This Hydras heads needed to fall~And this time, it would be the many heads of the Sith united to take their place!​

 

[Alina Tremiru]

Objective: Rescue Ingrid L'lerim
Location: Space
Equipment: See Sig
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

"Ah, but speculation's fun." She chuckled softly as she got more comfortable in her seat. Though, despite her smiles and warm attitude, there was something else going on in the back of her mind. Her golden eyes narrowed as she looked out the window, just in time to hear the voice of this new Emperor whisper into her mind.

By the Force did she hate that. Her form stiffened as she locked off her mind, severing the force immediately around her to prevent any more of such messages getting to her. The last thing she needed was an enemy trying to toy with her mind. "You realize we'll have to be quick, mm? This is most certainly a trap. You don't just move an enemy leader like this. It's like their begging to be intercepted." An idle observation as she stared out at nothing in particular. Space was, as expected, empty for the moment.

Her eyes flicked upwards as a whole new show of ships entered from hyperspace. She lifted a finger, pointing to the cluster.

"That's bait. Seems the plan already in shambles." Her gaze turned back to Damian, hard. Cold.

"When do we arrive?"

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Sabotage the communications, Blind the enemy
Location: Landing on Ord Thoden
Allies: TSE
Enemies: NIO
Tags: Aurelion Nova / Valen Arenais / Djorn Bline / Laertia Io / Hakon Fett / Konrad Bolter
----------------------------------------------

Well, I can certainly appreciate his enthusiasm. Alisteri nodded in response to Valen Arenais , slinging a bag over his shoulder as well. "I would hope that getting shot at isn't a priority regardless." He noted with a small chuckle, heading towards the cockpit to check in on the pilot before they landed. His stride paused however as he spared a glance at the other Sith, Aurelion Nova . Something was very off about the young man. He seemed tense, almost upset, but he had yet to voice any concerns or objections. Then there was his presence in the Force, and that was the really strange part.

It almost hurt to sense him for too long, it was as if he was shrouded in the Dark Side. Alisteri shook off his thoughts, and the small headache that his companion's presence gave him, and continued on to the cockpit. The shuttle's descent was quick, attempting to get down and drop off its passengers before the defenders of the facility where even aware of the wind that the ship caused in its wake.

Unfortunately, they would not be so lucky this day.

"Sir, I'm reading a carrier in low orbit. It's designation show that it's friendly. It's begun to drop pods onto the planet, they look like they are heading towards other broadcasting facilities." The pilot reported, idly gesturing outside of the cockpit as the first of the pods began coming into view. "...What?" The masked Acolyte peered out the window and spotted the pods, but he had little time to react any further.

Suddenly the ship's communication device flickered to life.

<"Unidentified shuttle craft this is New Imperial installation 'Echo-Aurek', you are entering New Imperial military airspace. Please identify yourself and transmit your clearance codes.">

"Chit."

Alisteri quickly turned back to shout at the other Sith. "Get ready we're landing now and they spotted us!" The pilot looked at the communicator, still awaiting a response. "Sir?" "Drop us off here and get somewhere safe, hopefully that carrier should keep them occupied." He wasted no time in opening the landing ramp, the ship still lowering to the ground as the ramp fully opened to allow exit. "And if you get caught, make up something." With that he quickly left the cockpit, barely sparing a glance at his fellow Sith as he strode out onto the surface of the planet.

The moment that the three Sith had left the shuttle, the pilot began raising the ramp and taking off. So everything isn't going according to plan. Oh well, at least we- Alisteri glanced back to see Aurelion laying on the ground, evidently having fallen. A small sigh escaped him and he hesitated just a moment before offering a hand to the young man, not wanting to get too close to the strange tendrils that seemed to flow from the Sith's armor. "Not to worry my friend, but we must make haste."

"We have a regularly scheduled broadcast to interrupt."

<"Unidentified Vessel, this is New Imperial installation 'Echo-Aurek', you have been ordered to land and stay grounded until further notice. In the meantime please identify yourself and provide landing clearance codes.">

The pilot glanced at the communicator and sighed before pressing the 'unmute' button. <"This is shuttle designation Sigma 3-11, I'm afraid that I have no landing codes sir...I'm just a shuttle pilot for the local school. Our...field trip went a bit off course...">

 

[Bright4]

.​

O B J E C T I V E: III​

​

Tags: Kiara Ayres Varn Barakis​

Equipment: 1x lightsaber, Kadan's Armor, 2x OS-101 Retractable Vibro-Sword, OS-PBC-770-FFE, OS-104 "Reaper" Variable Strength Blaster Pistol​

​

It wasn't a pretty sight for certain, but it had to be done. Kadan and his master had come here not to partake in a war mind you, but alieviate the suffering of the civilians caught within it. Of course, that meant they came with military might, and if they happened to come into conflict with the Sith, well it wasn't the worst thing ever; right? He had gotten used to the feeling of death. He stood on the walls of Sev Tok when the hordes of the Bryn came down upon them, waded through the tunnels of Nar Kreeta, and at least two sites that were potent in the darkside. He was a bit of a veteran when it came to shouldering off the chill of death, though it didn't wound his heart any less.​

​

The station they had holed up in had certainly seen better days, but no one should have been staying there for long. The power was on it's last legs, given the flickering it was doing, and there was hardly any way to justify staying here any longer; unless the fighting above suddenly stopped. That was also unlikely at current. Merely from below ground, Kadan could feel the lives of dozens flickering out of existence in rapid succession, so much so he had to stop himself from sensing it, the loss was too much to bare. He moved through the refugees, trying to see if there was any aid he could offer, though trivial as it might have been, he felt compelled to at least make the effort. Perhaps Master Kiara's outlook on things was starting to show itself after all. Most of the plight from the people came to food, or missing relatives. None of which Kadan knew how to address. After several moments of looming about, he found one person that he might be able to help, a young girl. She appeared to be human, though she was curled up on a bench, sobbing quietly into her arms. Her hair had been blonde at one point, but had been turned into a mix of grey and yellow splotches due to the dust and dirt. Her clothes looked as if she had been living in them for days, and her shoes had holes in them. Pity struck the padawan, having been an orphan himself, as he broke from the small refugee gathering moved to the young girls side, reaching out via the force to try and fight off the crushing sense of loneliness that was no doubt swallowing her. He knelt by her, embracing her in the force, and spoke softly to the grieving child.​

​

"Hey there, are you okay?"​

​

The answer was pretty obvious. Of course she wasn't fething okay. Her family was probably dead. The girl merely shook her head, continuing her silent sobs. The padawan merely nodded, moving to sit beside the girl, his eyes wandering about the facility, wondering just how many other children would end up like he had. Far too many he feared. He felt a weight press against his side, and glancing down found the young girl clinging to him, continuing to sob. His arms wrapped around her, hugging her tightly, as if it somehow made things better. It wouldn't. It couldn't. That just wasn't how the galaxy worked. He remained there for a long moment, mind focusing on nothing else than the young girl he was trying to help.​

​

It wasn't until the beckoning of his master called to him, and he knew it was time to depart. He was trying to think of something to say, something to tell the young girl so he could go back to his task, but he found she had already pulled back from him; eyes still clouded with tears, but there was a glimmer of hope within her pupils now. "Do you have to go?" She asked, he merely nodded, fighting back his own tears, though he could manage them for the time being. "I'm Autumn." She spoke, staring up at him with a faded innocence, like she was trying to hold onto some understanding of what it meant to be a child. He had known the feeling, of trying to go back to a time when it all made sense. It would never come, and Autumn would have to face that someday on her own. "I'm Kadan." He responded, his throat closing now, as he had to get going. "Can I be a jedi like you?" She asked him, her hand tugging on his robe, stopping him in his tracks before he could continue to walk. He bit down on his lip, wanting to tell her the truth. But he couldn't, not right now. He turned back to her, forcing a smile in-spite of the pain he was feeling in his chest. "If you really want to, it's possible." He lied, giving her a thumbs up, and witnessed a small smile come to her features. "Thank you mister Kadan." She said softly, stepping closer to hug his leg now. He swallowed hard, knowing that she was just desperate to cling onto anything right now, even if it was a lie. They all did at this level of grief. "Autumn-" He started, his hands gently coming down on her back, his words nearly being choked out from him in the process. "I have to go now, I have jedi business." He pleaded, and thank the force, she seemed to take to it. She released her hold, still trying her best to smile, and with everything he had in him Kadan turned and walked away.​

​

He didn't want her to see him cry.​

​

Composing himself now, he removed his mothers mask from his belt, and placed it on his face. The 'pop' of the seal being formed was something of a relief to him, as he was now in his own world. No one could see the pain that this place had been inflicting upon him. Finding his master, he took stock of their forces, and just as Kiara concluded, it wasn't good. They'd be stretched pretty thin if they were going to try and get everyone out of there. He agreed with her plan though, but they had best move fast. Kiara had been giving the run down when the fighting grew louder. Blaster shots rang out, though this time they not nearly as distant as they had been before. The enemy was closing in. Kadan's hand went for his lightsaber, the padawan turning towards the source of the enclosing fighting.​

​

He hadn't said it, but they all knew it. There would be no escape for these people now. Nor them. This wasn't about escape anymore, this was about survival. Kadan glanced back to his master, looking for approval. "Kiara, let me take two men with me. I can try and secure a defensive point in the station."​

​

If there would be no counter given, then that was what the padawan planned to do. If they were going to make their stand here, then they had best fortify it; even though they had next to no time to do so.​

​

​

​

 

[Djonas Val]

// FORSWORN ACTUAL // Knight of the Empire
// ALLIES | NIO // -- Konrad Bolter , Djorn Bline
// ENEMIES | TSE // -- Darth Strosius , Valen Arenais, Aurelion Nova
Lightsaber | Tenebrae Pattern | Pistol | Grenades

Before the assignment to Ord Thoden, Djonas had thought his standing within the Corps was the lowest it could get. Border patrol, chasing pirates, every whisper, anything that could potentially tie back to the Monterey Circle… It was him that got sent.

But this?

Brown orbs almost glossed over with how empty they looked, peered out over the relatively small compound. From the towers view, he was at the highest point for miles around.

Emptiness.

Beyond the walls, and within them.

The comms station was essentially a skeleton crew, ill fit for conflict. The people that were sent here typically pissed off a superior. Had they still been Sith-Imperials, the subordinate likely would’ve become acquainted with death. A more suitable fate than being isolated on a world that was little more than a backwater.

“I should’ve went,” he muttered. But the thought of coming to the aid of Dagon Kaze repulsed him. The boys they had been growing up had split apart years ago, and the man he had become was hardly palatable for extended periods of time.

Still, had he known that disobeying Rurik Fel’s summons had destined him being sent here... Things could’ve been different. Unlikely, but here, hindsight was the only assurance that things could’ve been different.

And yet, even on this backwater, the peaceful silence was interrupted.

In the back of his mind, something called to him, prompting him to look up to the sky before he heard the alarms from the compound reach his ears. Here?

There's no drill scheduled today, he thought. And with a garrison that was less than the standard skeleton crew was undoubtedly going to have failings. Shaking his head, he descended from the observation level, and into the control room.

As he descended, the demeanour in the control room instantly conveyed the gravity of the situation. He already caught the tail ends of commands being thrown around. The air space coordinator repeatedly calling for identification. By the time he got it, Bolter was already gone, he noted. A soldier that had seen proper combat, Djonas was glad to have him on the scene. It was then that he snapped his gaze to one of the comms techs.

In his mind eye, he went through the manpower and logistics of the garrison.

Limited manpower, stockpiles of untouched equipment. Probably outdated... Were it not for Bolter's presence, he expected the vast majority of the garrison to be lacking proper combat experience. They'd be more of a detriment than a blessing in a scenario like this.

<"This is Ech-"> the comms tech began before Djonas' gloved finger crashed into one of the buttons on the console.

"Do not call for reinforcements," the Knight said. The chance he had been waiting for. He would not squander it with letting himself be rescued. No matter what the odds were, Val had no intention of continuing to spend his days on this planet. It was time for him to truly prove he had no business being on this planet. No one would care about his punishment on Ord Thoden if he ended up being a hero today. But, the bewildered look on the tech's face was enough to trigger further reasoning. "They'll be monitoring," he said.

"If they manage to decrypt a distress call, they'll send everything they've got to eliminate us and leave before reinforcements arrive."

"Y-yes sir!"

"Location of the unidentified vessel?" Turning from his position, he turned to a holographic display, pulling up the facility and the surrounding area.

"Approximately, right here, Sir." A raised finger saw a quadrant not far from the station light up.

"Purpose for being here?"

"Uh. School?"

It was clear the tech was doing their best to maintain their composure and professionality. But, Djonas' own features contorting into confusion were enough to betray that he had no qualms about betraying his facade of placidity. "There is no... Cut off all contact. Alert Bolter and the Agent, I'll deal with the ships passengers."

And just as suddenly as he distributed the orders, he descended the tower to the vehicle bay.

So battle has finally come, he thought. This is it. He thought as he dropped into place on the seat. Gloved hands pressing on the throttles as the bike rumbled to life. "Open the gate." He ordered into his wrist comm.

And as the compounds front door cracked open, the speeder mounted Knight raced out, dark cloak flapping in the wind behind him. His presence in the Force reached out, searching ahead, the interwoven energy field was a live compass to those he sought to find. And already he had a bead on the group.

Leaning forwards, he clenched tighter on the throttle grips. Anything to go faster.

 

[Vilaz Munin]

V E T E R A N
SONS OF MANDALORE
MUUNILINST
HYDRA
ARMOR | PRIMARY | SECONDARY | KINETIC SPEAR | VARIOUS GRENADES | KNIFE

​

This spark, this insurgency that later became a revolution succeeded in crossing the Braxant Run and reaching Mandalore. Finally, after so long they had claimed vengeance against the Sith, though it mattered little in the end when he and his clan were faced with the harsh reality of Mandalore scarred and deformed after the Sith rendered it hollow from their mining operations and plague of Sithspawn that defiled whatever life was left on Mandalore. They inherited nothing from their quest of revenge and reclamation. Many with familiar ties to Mandalore rued as there was no home for them left.

They were a nomadic people, yet still many longed for that feeling of home with their own countrymen. They failed to safeguard their home and with it the chance of recreating an empire of their own.

The time of grief was over, and was replaced with anger and retribution. They would further their vengeance even more against their mortal enemies of the Sith. Encouraged more by the years of aversion towards the Sith Code.

The Mandalorians were stripped from their homeworld.

The favor would be returned.

<"Alor! The Sith have arrived!">

A surprise as the Sith laid dormant in launching any assaults after their defeat on Bastion. Now they have come to where it all began when simple men and women fought to claim their future. Daring of these Imperials to defect and fight, knowingly what the cost of defeat would be for their insurgency against the Sith. Their valiant efforts wrought defeat against the Sith here and other systems on the Braxant Run.

Now the Sith was here, like a parasite, to take and leech for their own demented gluttony of power. This was not his home, having no familiar ties but he would not stomach the thought of the Sith laying waste to others as they did on Mandalore.

<"Then we will make this their pyre, fight with valor and die with honor.">

There would be no orders of retreat from Vilaz to his warriors. They would push forward until their last breath.

<"We will cooperate with the Imperials, but my orders are above all else. We are allies, but our autonomy is foremost.">

He trusted his own hands in war as he had a duty and responsibility to his warriors.

<"There seems to be a heavy density of fighting on the spaceport from the comms.">

<"Wanting to cut off any retreats for the Imperials, that is something we cannot allow. Keep me updated on any other relevant reports.">

<"Fight well.">

ALLIES | NIO | GA |
ENEMIES | TSE | Shuklaar Kyrdol

 

[Enedina Tal]

Captain Enedina Tal
New Imperial Order
Galidraani free state
LIFELINE-MUUNLINIST GROUND

Tags- Willan Tal Arcturus Tal Tyrell Lockhart Legate DECEASED Aron Gowrie

Open for opposition
​

A bleak foreboding sensation filled the air and hugged the atmosphere in a suffocating embrace that seemed to duck the life and soul out of everyone present. Harnaidans gothic spires dominated the skyline and her units view for as far as the naked eye could see. Its once proud towers now twisted and ruined by hours of continual bombardment and ruin by both Sith and Imperial forces, which seemed to call this planet a battlefield once more. It all blended in the same grim, dismal hues of grey and dark, every world her unit was sent to go to and fight for Galidraan was the same. Dying men and women, crying children left orphans on the streets of whichever Sith backwater had become the target of the Imperial war machine. She had been the last thing many a legionnaire of the Sith Empire saw before passing on to the next life, via vibroblade or the muzzle of a blaster, rinse and repeat, death was her trade, and the war was her life.


Her people were known as warriors first and foremost, exporting generation after generation of imperial officers and naval officers from its esteemed academies who would serve the great powers of the galaxy. Ever since she was a little girl, she had been raised like many other scions of high Galidraani society, fighting and dying in the name of family pride and continuing the unblemished Galidraani legacy of waging war. Like her father's father and his father before him, the Tals were among the best of the nobility when it came to war and the suffering of others. Society needed the killers who enforced the way of life and mantra of the rulers above; it all balanced out but at what cost? She often wondered if the faceless masks she stared down in battle were her own kin from the homeworld or some poor son of Galidraan sent to die for an inch of soil on some backwater. Perhaps she and her countrymen on the opposite side were no different in that regard, both dying for little ground gained and opportunistic battlefield propaganda. Enedina herself had lost count of the countless 'martyrs' of the free state who had died in the name of liberation and the honour of the Galidraani people; indeed, the numbers ran into the thousands, tens of thousands even. Many of whom had been friends from her units, strangers, terrified teenagers drafted into a quickly formed battalion to meet battle quotas and then thrown into the meat grinder. She knew the unspoken truth of what her father wanted to achieve by the immense sacrifice of their peoples young and brave, but would it be worth it in the end? to be the family who led a generation to war and a generation to the grave? she didn't know anymore, all that remained was her family and duty.

 

[Ishida Ashina]

MUUNILIST | HARNADIAN | DAMASK PLAZA | SOUTHERN CULTURAL CENTRE
+0:45 FROM FIRST CONTACT
We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark;
the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.

WHY'D YOU BRING A SHOTGUN TO THE PARTY

​

Sizzling, snapping and ftzzing, the rain spattered against the extension of her saber as she rose to stand. Twisting to the right, she narrowly avoided another bolt searing past her shoulder. The next attack, she riposted with an adjustment of her blade; intercepting the bolt before it met her as its fleshy target. It ricocheted back from her, to the feet of the approaching soldier. The other knocked his knee.

They announced the threat of being surrounded, and she flicked a glance around –– though most of her focus remained on the immediate attack.

For the most part, she was stationary –– not advancing nor retreating. Merely deflecting in a whirl of white light. Anytime now… she grimaced in thought, attention still on the spitfire.

<We need to keep the Sith distracted for a bit. They've got reinforcements incoming, too. We'll have to keep their attention centre,>

Distraction. She was to be a distraction for now. In her peripherals, the shadows of civilians moved at the direction of Alliance personnel –– moving further and further from the freshly designated engagement zone.

She was a heck of one: Whirling lightsaber, long white hair, all-white clothes (which were quickly becoming sopped and nigh-transparent in the consistent pour). If she wanted to be a little more stealthy, she could swap her lightsaber at least for her sword, dive into the charge and cut them up little more than mincing vegetables.

<And I've got an idea,>

Too frustrated to find words that were already oft beyond reach, she made a gesture with her arms that replicated the vexation knotted in her eyebrows and the edge of her eyes. A sort of universal whirl of the hands that communicated a very time-pressed interpretation of okay––and?? Get on with it.

ALLIES | NIO | GA | NJO | Bernard
ENEMIES | THE SITH EMPIRE | Eva Betrik | Bastian Briareos

 

[Areyon]

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

A chill ran down his spine as he felt the clash between their weapons. What was that mysterious blade she wielded? It resembled a light-saber, however, the same raunchy odor of the dark side emitted from it. The sickly red that came from the weapon juxtaposed the bright ghastly white of his own. He knew he had caught her off balance with his strike as her parry was sudden and surprised. Her feet shuffled and her arms reacted reluctantly to match the strength of his hit. Through the rigorous training he went through as a young adult in the Imperial Force Corps, his attacks were sure to have power behind them. It would be a disrespect to his instructor if he didn't.

The stormtroopers around them made their effort to protect themselves. The bolts being reflected back at them caught some by surprise, others were ready. Both sides suffered equal casualties. Men were dropping left and right behind their makeshift covers. It was hell, but so was war. No one found peace.

He stared as the blade's color morphed into a freakishly looking green. The most confusing revelation was that the blade could change color. He had never seen a lightsaber able to change color on command. Through hard and tedious concentration, one could make their lightsaber crystal change into a different color based on their alignment with the Force. However, this was instant. What type of technological marvel was this? What caused this reaction? Areyon stood confused and angry. Through the eyes of his helmet, he saw his opponent's creepy and toothy smile. He did not react in any way, instead, he kept his pose. His opponent raised her blade with quick efficiency and with a spin she attacked. Her bizarre-looking tails, covered in boney spines, came from behind and tried to attack his back lower leg. She succeeded with her attempt, cutting a moderately deep cut into the back of his quad. Areyon took the back of his lightsaber pike and shoved it into her lower abdomen to try to create distance between himself and his enemy.

The pain coming from his leg was searing and uncomfortable. His experiences with pain were not the best. He took a look at his armor under his cloak, and he noticed the cut had made an obvious mark in the armor and broke through the flesh. Also, his cloak was torn towards the bottom, removing the need to look presentable while battling. In one motion he had removed his cloak and threw it on the ground. Through the glare of his helmet, his eyes could be seen, furrowed and enraged.

"That will be the last hit you land."​

ALLIES | NIO | GA
HOSTILES | SITH | Lady Marrow

 

[Varn Barakis]

Tags: Kiara Ayres Bright4
Gear: Lightsaber, Silver Jedi Knight Plate

The thump of artillery shells and the report of blasterfire. Oh, how Varn hated the sounds, hated what they meant for the city and it's people. Each shot came with the threat of another life being snuffed out. Every explosion meant a building lost, a street decimated. When the Zabrak closed his eyes, he envisioned burnt hellscapes, and fields of endless fire. When he opened them, he was greeted by the sight of cold concrete and the white streaks of industrial lights. Not quite what he pictured. No, that was above ground, where the Sith were. Where the NIO's forces were.

Down here, there were refugees. Too many, if Varn was telling the truth, but what was he to do? There was a war on. The innocent always suffered first.

So did the ones who chose to protect them. Turning his gaze to the wide stairs that led up and out of the station, the knight watched as a squad of Concordian Rangers ushered more refugees in from outside. Smoke-stained, bloodied, the group looked more dead than alive. Yet, here they were, taking their places among the rest of the doomed populace as if they actually had a hope of surviving what was to come. Hell, maybe they did. Maybe Varn was just tired. Tired of war, tired of fighting.

Tired of it all.

"Sir? Sir!" Turning, the Jedi knight blinked as the messenger regarded him. The man looked as tired as Varn felt, his eyes hollow, somehow empty of the light that so often accompanied life. Course, there was the possibility that the knight's mind was just playing tricks on him. Then again, maybe the man was indeed just another walking cadaver among many. "Yes?" Varn asked to distract himself, noticing the play of darkness as it caressed his thoughts. It wouldn't do to keep thinking like this. Not while there were people to protect, lives to save. "What is it?"

"Master Ayres requires your presence, sir. She said it was urgent."

Nodding, the knight watched as the man walked away, off on business or just wandering aimlessly. Either was a good enough reason for the knight. Making his way through the station, Varn had to navigate his way past a number of refugees before he reached Kiara. Hundreds, thousands, more; they inhabited the platforms and the dark carriages that no longer ran. Some had spread out into the tunnels in order to escape the reek of too many bodies in too small a place, while others had occupied the turnstiles leading upwards. Perhaps the latter hoped it would soon be over. Perhaps they thought they would soon be able to return home. Varn couldn't fault them that hope. It was one of the few things they had left.

Reaching his fellow Jedi, Varn fell into place just off to the padawan's ( Bright4 ) right. Though he did not know the boy, he knew his Master, more by way of reputation than anything else. A Consular, she was the first to talk. Considering she was the most senior, that made sense. Varn listened to the plan, frowned at the interruption. The blasterfire up top was picking up, growing more intense by the second. Not a good sign, but then, it never was.

"Kiara, let me take two men with me. I can try and secure a defensive point in the station."

"With your blessing, I would go with your padawan. Someone needs to hold them back while you get the refugees out of here." Varn looked at Kiara, an unspoken message in his gaze. I'll watch the boy's back, he seemed to say, his expression one of practiced calm. In truth, the knight intended to go whatever the Master said, but having her blessing was better than not having it. 'Sides, he wasn't sure he could go with sitting around any longer. Being idle was worse than being shot at.

"We'll follow when we can. If we can."

 

[Eva Betrik]

Objective III - Front Chimera
​

Location: Harnaidan, Damask Plaza
Allies: TSE | Bastian Briareos
Foes: GA | NIO | Bernard | Ishida Ashina

Real firefights, Eva was finding out, were nothing like what you saw on the holovids or simulator games she'd grown up with. They weren't clean or clear; they were utter confusion. It was hard to tell who was shooting from where, and which side they were on... especially while she was trying to both shoot back and keep her head down. There was no little sound or marker that popped up to tell her she'd hit something; if she didn't directly see her target fall, she had no way of knowing whether she'd made the shot, especially in the wilderness of billowing tarps and banners that had been set up in the festival square. The light of flying blaster bolts scattered and reflected in every raindrop.

The young corporal could definitively say that she hadn't hit the pale man who'd dropped one of the Sith troopers with his blaster; he'd reacted just in time, flipping over a heavy wooden table to intercept her burst of fire. She tried to keep him pinned down, but he did much the same for her, popping out of cover periodically to get off a few potshots and force her back behind the market stall. It was a contest that Eva was sure she and her squad could eventually have won simply by using their superior numbers, one of them forcing him to keep his head down with a volley while the others moved up to outflank him... but the looming threat of the Jedi woman kept them from advancing.

If it hadn't been for the adrenaline and well-drilled discipline focusing her, Eva might well have simply stared slack-jawed at the Jedi and her brilliant white lightsaber. The pale blade moved faster than her eyes could track, intercepting blaster bolt after blaster bolt, easily holding the Sith troopers at bay despite their superior numbers. After she made an example of the first trooper who tried to close in and come at her from the side, deflecting a blaster bolt back into his knee that dropped him with a scream of pain, everyone else kept their distance. It was a stalemate, and it was allowing the Alliance infiltrators to make their escape. Eva slammed a fist against the booth in frustration.

"Left-Handed God," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut, "aid us against your enemies."

The tromp of booted feet coming up behind her signaled the answer to her prayer. Eva raised her gaze, and there she saw him. There was no mistaking who he was; his face adorned propaganda posters, textbook illustrations, and high-budget holovids alike. It was Bastian Briareos, Ession's Golden Son, Hero of the Empire! Had she not been actively under enemy fire, the starstruck young corporal might have thrown herself at him, begging for a picture or an autograph. As it was, she nearly had a lightsaber-reflected blaster bolt take the top of her distracted head off. She felt the heat of it singing her hair as she frantically ducked, and immediately wished they could've smuggled in her helmet.

No one on Soullex would ever believe she'd met Bastian Briareos. With him here, how could they possibly lose?

Patriotic enthusiasm swelled in Eva's heart as the war hero approached the plaza, his uniform immaculate even in the pouring rain. She was seized with the desire to impress him, to show her devotion to the Empire that he had served so well over so many years. "For the Empire!" she shouted, and vaulted over the market stall, firing frantically as she ran. It was a terrible, utterly boneheaded decision, but perhaps Typhojem was still watching, because it somehow failed to get her immediately killed. She dashed through the rain, shooting from the hip, screaming incoherently... until the pale man she'd been shooting at stood up, a blue lightsaber in his fist.

"Oh feth," Eva mouthed, lurching to a stop, her feet nearly flying out from under her as her boots slid on the rain-slick pavement. "Oh feth oh feth oh feth..." She threw herself sideways, landing hard on the duracrete behind an abandoned food cart. Her shoulder slammed into the cart's side, rocking it, and piping hot noodles spilled out of one of the containers on top... directly onto her back. "FETH!" She was panicking now, the sight of not one but two Jedi confronting her in her first-ever battle pushing her discipline past the breaking point. It was hard to think with her pulse racing in her ears. All she wanted to do was break and run, put this overwhelming city far behind her...

An iron thought clamped down on her mind. I can't do that. I am a soldier of the Empire. I don't run.

Rolling over to shake off the near boiling - but delicious smelling - meal, she forced herself to remember her training. If you panic, focus on your breathing. She did, slowing down her frantic gasps, stilling the shaking of her hands. When that's under control, take stock of your surroundings. There is no such thing as an unsalvageable situation. Slowly, carefully, Eva stole a glance around the side of the cart. She'd made it about halfway to where the Jedi stood, so it wasn't like he was looming over her. Besides, the Jedi weren't advancing on the Imperial line; they were covering a retreat, and would probably join it when they could. She had room to work with.

Pushing back a strand of pale blonde hair that the rain had plastered to her cheek, Eva reached into her satchel and pulled a small sphere out. The explosives that the SICA squad had been able to make were crude at best, ill-suited for throwing; they were meant to be sabotage charges, not grenades. But maybe there was another way she could use it to drive the Jedi back. Priming the little explosive, the young corporal dropped it into the (now mostly empty) noodle container on top of the food cart. Pushing herself up into a crouch, she kicked the hovering cart in the Jedi's direction, trusting in inertia to carry it toward the pair of them. Then she ran.

Reaching the safety of another market stall, she dove inside, covering her head as the noodle cart exploded...

 

[Noel Strasza]

C A D E N C E
W A R M A C H I N E

4TH DOOM DIVISION
THE WATCHMEN 9/9

SMACKDOWN | Darth Mori

​

<"Major, y-you seein' that thing?"> Rooks called over the comlink, marking the target on the squad's HUDs.

The flickering blip arranged itself in her vision and she heeded the marker, pivoting on an elbow to fix the fleshy monstrosity in her crosshairs. "Hm." She hummed, pressing the tip of her fibrous tongue into the pocket of her cheek stuffed with bubblegum. Right out in the open? That was a foolish move. Their target knew it was facing snipers, obviously, why would it expose itself in such a way? The odd choice raised alarm in Strasza's mind, but not enough for her to change the immediate plan that formed in her mind.

<"What the feth is that?!"> Xavier echoed the stutter of his ally, his shock carried through the crackling communication link, <"I haven't ever seen some bullshit like that before...">

The Major tilted her head away from her scope, leaning slightly to peer at the beast with naught but her augmented eyes, scanning it for some sort of vital assessment. But, the horror wasn't within her range quite yet, so, she made the call without the input of her database: <"Looks like one hell of a massive target to me boys, don't know what you all are seein'. Switch to incendiary and focus it down.">

She glanced briefly to the troopers beside her, implanted scanners returning their biometric data to her HUD. Their heart rates had spiked tremendously, though it was no surprise. River and Bones were the two Force Sensitives on the squad. The terror radius of the creature was seeping into their consciousness, wrapping its insidious coils around their reflexes and toying with their fears. "Oi," Noel clucked her tongue, "focus up, now ain't the time to freeze. It's just a rabid beast like the rest, we'll put it down."

The Warmachine fished the red-tagged magazines from the ammunition pouches strewn about her waist and released the lock on her current, sliding the half-empty mag to the floor beside her and tucking the replacement in. The chemical compounds packed into each casing would react upon impact with a target, activating the charges and sending the entire round and, hopefully, the target ablaze. One on its own was effective enough, but with a 10-round capacity per fitted magazine and a squadron of nine trigger fingers behind the barrel, The Watchmen were taking no chances with the morphing monstrosity.

<"Standby,"> Strasza stated over their communications, giving her squadron a few more seconds to make the necessary adjustments, <"Steady on target, hold."> The beast shambling their way drew closer still to the structures they had nested in- tick tock. <"Fire."> She pulled the trigger, firing the first of many infernal bullets to come. And right on the heels of her round came the crescendo of eight others, each spat out with a muted 'pft!' from the marksmens' rifles.

<"Keep on it."> She followed up the order, tucking herself down to brace her weapon and set into the rhythm of rapid-fire with the iron intention of her squad to destroy the creature in a hellish storm of fire-laced lead and boiling flesh.​

​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"We shall see," retorted Carnifex, moving ahead down the hall in such a way that he appeared to glide. The hem of his robes billowed out along the ground, masking the movement of his legs as he and the others approached a junction.​

​

In the time since the Sith's withdrawal from the Braxant Run and its surrounding sectors, those operatives that had remained behind in the lost sectors were able to efficiently integrate themselves into the new power structure. Some had been rooted out and destroyed, such were the casualties of an effective inquisition, but countless others had blended in so perfectly they went unnoticed. Members of those same operatives had piecemeal delivered the floorplans of the IMP500 into Carnifex's hands, one portion at a time as to not arise suspicion. ​

​

Stopping at the intersection, Carnifex activated a three-dimensional hologram of the floor they were currently traversing. "This way," spoke Carnifex after studying the map and clicking off the projector, turning down one of the corners to lead the group towards their prize. The security team that shadowed both Sith Lords were fiercely loyal to the Sith, each and every one of them having suppressed their true loyalties despite the most harrowing of odds.​

​

"I sense we have company." Carnifex slid to a stop as the hallway ahead was blocked by rapidly deploying squads of TF01 Battle Droids and Trade Federation security guards. Particle blaster raised, they levied their sights on the approaching Sith and their loyalists. "Open fire," intoned one of the battle droids in a mechanical falsetto. Carnifex thrust his hand out just as the blasters unleashed their collective salvo, each particle bolt rushing in on a straight trajectory towards him before suddenly shifting away and into the nearby walls and floor. ​

​

The explosion of each impact rattled the corridor, tearing away chunks of the decoration and paneling with every shot. Yet, the power of the Dark Side kept the destruction angled away from them, Carnifex maintaining that power through his willpower alone.​

​

"Take care of them."​

​

Darth Empyrean | Irveric Tavlar ​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

"You could ask nicely.", Maliphant retorted - but less as a true suggestion, but a reminder that Carnifex did not hold his strings.

Subtle was the way of the Sith, after all, and even in the most dire of moments could one not allow themselves to be subjected to subjugation in even the most subtle of ways. Dun Moch was the art of Sith dueling in words, and Maliphant considered himself the foremost expert; having long challenged the authority of Knights and Lords far surpassing him in raw physical strength and skill. Now, however, he wasn't looking to overcome some unseen ego duel between them - quietly adjusting his focus to the droids at the end of the hallway.

In the pale lords hand, the Staff of Kala'anda formed - its open ivory mouth dripping a black smoke as it coalesced in his grip. From it, the echoe's of the Dark Side began to stretch out unseen; past the bolts, the wares, and the defenses of the building. It's presence surrounded every facet of the droids, poured itself into the smallest gaps in their armor, and left its metaphysical oily residue across every surface it could. Unnatural in its nature, the Force itself seemed to recoil at its touch.

Then, Maliphant's mind briefly thought of Caulder Dune - Master of Technology, Once Emperor, and premiere expert on Mechu Deru. Maliphant was not nearly as skilled as the cyborg made recluse in the dark arts of technologic manipulation, but he had retained enough to be reasonable. All at once the connections of the droids seemed to unwind - and what was a squad of battle droids armed with lightsaber countering weapons became tens of thousands of advanced parts separating from each other in perfect order, as though they were to be rebuilt in the near future.

As they did, and the rounds stopped flying, Maliphant let go of its delicate grasp on them. They cluttered against the ground, creating a mess that took a few seconds to settle. Only then did he step forward past Carnifex, letting the impervium counterweight on his staff echo his approach to their destination.

"No doubt Jedi-Killers will be on their way soon. You're a hard target to miss, Darth Carnifex, I have no doubt they'll deploy far worse than simple battle droids if nothing else than to try and get a trophy for their efforts.", he said - obviously implying a certain one of their heads on a spike.

Darth Carnifex │ Irveric Tavlar

 

[Allyson Locke]

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

​

The smell of the planet’s surface reached her nose, filling them with all too familiar scents. Memories plagued her mind, ones that felt like a lifetime ago. The face of a young Jedi Knight, fighting for freedom for a budding government trying to find its place in the galaxy and a time where she was a hero.

Allyson crept in the shadows; her footsteps were lighter than air, and her presence in the Force void. She moved silently through the Force, watching and listening to the haunting words of the new Emperor of the Empire. The man was different, far from what the typical Zambrano line produced. Her head tilted as a hand slipped over the eyepatch then pulled the fabric upward; the cybernetic eye suddenly came to life, rings spinning and aligning itself to focus her vision and allowing a front seat for her Handler IVI .

A thin smile crept along her face as she remembered the heroic persona she hid behind. Trying to be a good Jedi, help the civilians, and guide people to the light. But, unfortunately, it was a lie; Allyson Locke belonged to the shadows, learning secrets while being the executioner the SIA needed. But, if she couldn’t walk in the light, she would embrace her purpose and destroy the darkness so that all that was left was light.

Lips parted, quietly exhaling as she felt through the Force for her apprentice. The woman had something dark in here as well, probably why she was given to the Master. Parts of Hel reminded the Corellian of her former padawan, ambitious, quick, hot-headed. They all had that small piece of darkness they were trying to outrun.

But that’s what made a great shadow - they all had it—that extra-special bit.

Through the Force, Allyson invaded Hel’s mind. The message was quick as fingers dragged along the taut string of her bow. ‘Hel, his apprentice. Kill him if you must. Strike now’ As she finished the thought, Allyson remained in the folds of the Force Cloak as an arrow was drawn and aimed for the Emperor’s throat. The bulbous tip brightly glowed as it was released; Force Light drowned the simple explosive arrow in Ashla’s grace. Whether it impacted with the Emperor or with something thrown at it, the arrow would explode. She didn’t wait to see which would happen and began drawing another arrow and moving her position. Another message to the padawan, ‘GO NOW!’ ​

 

[Kuben Woods]

Equpment: Combat Harness | Lightsaber | Disruptor Rifle | Sawn Off Shotgun | Body

Objective: Serve the Empire by rescuing the Empress

Tag: Alina Tremiru , Caarlyle Rausgeber
​

Damian would almost drown out the sounds the woman across from him was making, until she asked him the question of when they were due to arrive. He would look directly at her, his polarized helmet hiding his face, but she could probably tell he was staring her directly in the eyes. As the pod continued to bob and weave, dancing through debris and fire alike as they made their final approach, the inside of the pod began to rock more violently. More evasive maneuvers, more extreme measures were being taken, right up until the pod made it to the point of no return. Slam boosters fired, causing them all to be pressed into their harnesses violently as the pods would slam into the shields of the vessel, and then punch through with their breaching charges. Repeated thuds could be heard across the hull of the vessel as each boarding pod slammed home, combat cutting torches quickly carving holes in the plate to give them access points while the liquid metal would form airtight seals across the plating. In bare few seconds Damian would almost tear off his harness as he spoke first a single word.

"Now,"​

It wouldn't take long for the torches to cut through and establish a link, the pressure sensor blinking from red to green once atmosphere was detected and the seal was good. And as Damian brought his Disruptor rifle up to his shoulder the shock troopers around him would do the same as without thinking they jumped through the now open hole in the hull of the vessel. He would land with a thud as they stormed into the hallway, immediately opening fire on the first men they came across, not bothering to let them identify themselves, cry out, or otherwise be given a chance. They were traitors, and the relatively quick if painful death of disintegration would be a mercy they were undeserving of. Damian would quickly flash a signal to the troopers as across the vessel, similar squads would also board similarly, violently entering Disruptor Rifles blazing, automatic shotguns chugging shells, becoming heralds of fire, death and vengeance to these would be usurpers. None of them needed to communicate to confirm their objectives, as they all knew what they had to hit. One squad to hit the fire controls, one to life support, one to suppress the gunnery crews, two to hit the main reactor, and several more to kill as many of the Imperials as they could while they would break the back of the ship. Their ingress was violent, it was loud, and to many before them they would see it as utterly chaotic. Damian would yell at the accompanying forces who were no doubt right on his heels as they started pushing forward.

"Madam, we move at one speed and one speed only. Mine. Either keep up or be left behind, as I am not here to babysit. The Emperor has charged us with a mission and objective, and it is our duty to see it done,"

The voice in his head would begin cackling as it could feel the individual lives of mortals being snuffed out as they pressed the attack. Damian was enjoying this, and it was certainly feeding off of that energy, waiting for a moment to catch him off guard and be unleashed itself. Until then it would sit back, relax and enjoy the courtside seating of the bloodbath that was occurring. Whether the Imperials tried to fight, run or surrender, it would not matter to Damian. These traitors had had long enough to exist and contemplate their crimes, their betrayal.

Now was a time for vengeance.