Junction Paschendale | SO & DIA Junction for Stennaros & Yaga Minor

[Roxsie]

Objective II — House of Ash and Blood
Location: Verrinox Estate, Central Serenno
Objective: Kill sith and soldiers
Other obj 2 tags: Serina Calis Darth Empyrean Diarch Reign Varis Oakertain Callista Sharde Brooklyn Zambrano

Direct tags: Brooklyn Zambrano

Time to bash some sith skulls in! That was the end goal here, not because they had personally wronged her in anyway. They gave, indirectly, her both her parents. And as a result, also at least a portion of her training. Not it was personal for her, but not personal for or against them. She just felt that now was a real opportunity to prove herself. Not against hooligans and pirates, but against real soldiers and force users who were trying to kill you and trained to kill you. She'd fought force users before naturally, but not in a war. No this would prove it.

The young swords-woman was --she stumbled before wrapping herself deep in the force as something hit her, something dark, vicious, and hateful. "Karking...what was that?!" she said aloud in surprise, her mother was dark. But it was a wholly different kind of dark, she took glee in her slaughters and chaos, it was the source of her power, anger almost never touched her. This was just focused vicious hate.

Trying not to look too overwhelmed, she pulled herself together, both visually and in the force. Increasing the resistances she held and guarding against real attacks she imagined could be made by the distant monster. Just another inadequacy. You lack the glee of your mother, you lack the intuition of your sister, and you lack the passion of this thing. Was a thought that came to mind before she focused herself on the war.

No, no there would be none of that. She took to seeking out her targets, from the ground, feeling what she could through the shadows of the force, and looking with her eyes where she could. Roxsie was not as good at all the leadership dealings, and was technically still new even to this group. But she was a good fighter. This unfortunately meant her rank was only Legionarius, which she felt rather unfair. But at least it meant she wasn't dealing with having to tell people stuff. She technically surpassed basically all her peers in combat, it was the whole ideology and leadership issues that was having to be worked on.

Now, time for someone to prove that against.


Phrik sword
Rebreather that is styled like a golden lower skill.

 

[Zinayn]

OBJ 1


The atmosphere in the main passenger bay of the LAET/C was jovial and light despite the nature of the upcoming mission. The soldiers of the Lilaste order, donned in their new combat armor, joked and conversed with one another. The shuttled bumped and jerked every now and then, and the rattling of shoulder pad against shoulder pad provided a calming background to the voices.

Zinayn, however, was not so jovial. He stood stiffly in the back of the hold, silent. He was staring out the open side door of the transport, noticing the dark gray clouds gathering on the horizon. Right on cue, the commander of the company approached him, comm out. The chatter died down. "Sir, the convoy...they've been ambushed. The High Commander is there now, as well as Diarch Rellik . We are only a few minutes away. What shall we do?"

Of course, something always had to go wrong. They could never have one mission that went as planned. But adapting was a prized skill on the battlefield. "Take our company to reinforce Laphisto . Full speed."

From miles away, he could already feel the pulsing hatred of the Sith at the canyon. Two minutes later, he was in the midst of it. The carriers flew low over the canyon, approaching the battle. He could see laser flashes, explosions, and even the flashing of lightsabers. And the sounds were even worse. The screams...he felt a fire build within him. Darkness could not be allowed to flourish.

A rumble shook the metal floor of the transport, and a few seconds later a thud came from the bottom of the canyon. The walkers had been deployed. The LAET/C slowed, and at the commander's order, the soldiers dropped out. Zinayn followed, hitting the ground first. Just further ahead were Laphisto's forces. His own walkers moved forward and doubled the firepower of the dragon's, unleashing more havoc across the canyon. Infantry swarmed forward. Many were cut down, either by Kaila Irons otherworldly spears, or by Darth Prazutis and his various attacks. Lirka Ka was sweeping her blade through swathes of soldiers with ease. The Chiss grimaced and rushed forward to Laphisto's side, the unstable rock crunching beneath his boots.

"High Commander, I've brought reinforcements. We need to take out the heavy-hitters here. Do you have a target in mind?" he asked as a blaster bolt whizzed past his ear. He brought his lightsaber up, it's golden blade igniting with a hiss. Awaiting Laphisto's response, he continued to defend the Lilaste infantry behind him from the onslaught of blasterfire, batting it back into the hordes of Sith soldiers.

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Mystral Canyon, Serenno, Objective I: Echoes of War​

Excess brutality surrounded the Diarchy. Red spears from mad troopers, who seemed physically beyond any mere normal man; railed through the troopers on the sides of the convoy. Drop pods crashed into the earth with blaster fire following suite. Repelling troopers screamed down the mountain behind the bestial ones. Giving no quarter for the Cohort to respond to one issue at a time. Rellik, could not be everywhere at once.

The few near the front who could stand there ground were torn asunder. Not simply their armor, the meat, the bones. All were ripped and pulverized. Those closest to the carnage led by the Beast wreathed in Shadow - were either stunned in fear, or were not fast enough to attack before his swings atomized them at the spot. Walkers imploded, the wails of the damned filled the valley.

If Reign and Laphisto were to be the ones to carry on the legacy of the Diarchy. It would be in good hands.

That is not to say Rellik would lie down and beg for death.

"You want to see what your courage buys you, little king?"
"Come closer. Death comes for you now."

The Diarch pointed his blade down at the Beast wreathed in Shadow and yelled out to it. "I do not cling to life, nor do I fear death." Taking the banner from the Signifer, he would break a foot long branch off of the bottom point of it. A tip made of Phrik metal along a normal wooden shaft. The younger brother intended to drive the a symbol of the Diarchy directly through its heart.

With the speed and sound of lighting followed by thunder Rellik made his dash. Alchemically altered troopers who were mauling his men laid between them on his side of the convoy. The front was nearly massacred and Rellik could not look back to see the rest. His only choice was to cut the head off of the snake. With the force to match his speed, he flowed between them. Chopping their limbs with Mou Kei - ensuring that not only Diarchy screams would be heard today. The man moved with such precision while occasionally stabbing with his banner end that the blood of those damned was not quick enough to spray on him.

He was dry in red rain.

Now within feet of the man he felt his presence. The one that turned hardened soldiers into mulch for the mountain. It screamed at him, berated his skin, and burned like hell fire. - The metallic dominating frame of his enemy was within striking distance. His blade burning with desire.

An ache in the force range through him.

inky black spears - from what appeared to be imperial army troopers rained from the sky. One heading straight for Rellik. There was no time for hesitation or strategy. With another dash he phased through light itself - into the dark. Pushing beyond the pain his enemy exuded. His lightsaber was aimed directly between the eyes.

The small phrik tipped stick in his other hand. Aimed directly for the gem on his chest.


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Equipment

• LO-48B Lilaste Order Armor
• Normal Golden blade of the Diarch
• Broken tail end of a Diarchy banner
• Medpacs/stims within his belt + One Vial of CRIMSON ELIXIR
• RDB-01 Dra'khan Sentinel Droid's - 5 droid team
• Basalisk War droid - Hidden underneath a tarp awaiting activation from the Diarch

Tags: Darth Prazutis Kaila Irons Laphisto Indra Quin

 

[Commodore Helix]

Objective 2: Defend the Estate
Equipment: Flamestaff, Horror Matrix, E-4H Phosphor Pistol
Tags: OPEN​

Helix watched from his perch atop the balcony of the manor. This battle heralded a distressing turn of events, though one now sadly familiar. The borders of the Sith meeting the borders of, well, anyone at all else. No matter the year, no matter the enemy, the result was always the same. Tyrants could not allow others of their kind to exist within their sight forever. The lines were joined, now. It was time to tighten the net.

A tiny part of his compound consciousness flickered, and a binary message went out to his droids. "They're here. Leave none alive."

Moments later, the enormous form of a Comet droid struck the ground in the midst of the fray outside the manor, its armored frame glowing with the heat of reentry. The impact sent a rippling impact wave across the field, hurling away nearby hostiles and blasting the dust from the ground around it. A score of Shrikes streaked down behind it, like falling stars. Some stayed in the air, hovering above the field and indiscriminately spraying death into anything that didn't pop up friendly in their sensors. Others landed, putting their rapid-firing carbines or blades to work. Still others simply picked up enemy soldiers, carrying them into the air before letting go, and letting gravity do the dirty work.

He gave an internal grimace. Such glory-hounding and grandstanding was a flaw in the model. Such were the dangers of letting droids think, but their lethality more than made up for it. They were naught but metal birds of prey, and behaved like it.

For once, he was not in a hurry to wade into the fray himself. He had garrisoned a small army of droids inside the manor itself, using it as a strike base. From it would occasionally trickle droid troops, from squads of infantry to the odd small vehicle. He was more use coordinating his part of the defense, much as he longed for the feeling of blood spattering his iridescent surface.

While he stood, nobody entered... not without authorization from his superiors, at any rate, and they were too busy with their own glory-hounding. He knew the Emperor was here in the flesh, amongst other august personages. Let them fight it out, if they wished. The droids would make the enemy bleed for every hallway, dining room, and garish sitting lounge.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

The storm did not break. It obeyed. The very moment Rellik surged forward, banner in one hand, saber in the other, the air wept around him. Not for pity. For reverence. Because the Force itself remembered what walked the other way. The Mortarch didn't need to move fast if he desired, he didn't need to. Because the world moved for him. So when he did? It was truly terror manifest. Where Rellik darted through the carnage, cutting through his own, leaving a trail of severed limbs and red echoes, he turned into naught but a dizzying blur. There was an explosion in the air as it rocked through the earth in his coming, striking with the fury of a locomotive. The Dark Lord of the Sith strode through ruin that bloomed like a black lotus around each step, the very darkness in the air blighting the earth he stepped on. Qâztharûn, the Abyss Unending, carved down in great, wide, soul devouring arcs, each swing obliterating more than bodies. Men became stains. Walkers collapsed like paper thrones. Even flame itself pulled back from his presence, refusing to consume what had already been claimed, recoiling from annihilation.

The giant was a wound walking, a symbol of divine affliction, unburdened by resistance. Screams didn't pierce the air, they were smothered. Cut off mid breath as Sith shock troopers struck with alchemical fury. Flesh was pulverized. The very gravel beneath the cohort in areas started to liquefy, as if the planet itself sought to drown them all, and still, the Dark Lord said nothing. Until Rellik came close. Until the foolhardy centurion, the unflinching soul carried his banner like a spear of defiance, into the very eye of the abyss itself, into the heart of death like he could kill the reaper. Prazutis' gaze lifted, not in surprise, but in amusement at the courage of the Centurion, of the shining symbol all looked to for inspiration, freedom from the tyranny of fear in his great acts against such a daring foe. The crimson runes of his blade surged with laughter. Ka'ra'nazat burned against his chest, and the very moment Rellik's blade neared the helm, the Force itself recoiled. The screams of the butchered roared out like a deafening avalanche, not from the Dark Lord's lips, but from the ground, the air, the ruin. The Diarch's momentum didn't falter.

But it was seen. It was weighed, and it would be answered. The Dark Lord stepped forward, just once, and in that single movement, everything changed. Black mist surged outwards from his armor, living shadow made manifest as the runes surged on the plate, they wrapped around the phrik-tipped banner like serpents of void. They did not block. They pulled coiling higher as they yanked it closer. As if the darkness itself was daring him to strike. When it collided the fury of the phrik spike came with a crash of thunder, a wave of force so deep it rattled the bones of the world, the sheer force of it sent a sith trooper off course, launching his descent into the path of a walker's cannon, that turned him into rain. It was the strike to fell titans, to end the reign of kings and its fury drove its tip inches deep into the chest plate, cracks spidering outwards from the blow as it remained stuck off course from the valuable gem he aimed. It was a blow to end wars, a true testament to the might of Diarch Rellik, and it merely sank into the surface of that living warplate. Already darkness seemed to pour from the cracks, a sizzling noise rang out as the plate already began to mend itsef back together. The lightsaber strike would find itself halted mere inches away from the massive helm, and then came the return strike, not from his blade, but his voice: "Bring your blade, your banner, your belief. I will bury them all in the same breath."

The amulet pulsed. The world cracked. Out from beneath the Diarchs feet, a fissure split open, souls of the damned howled upward, clawing at reality, dragging the battlefield into equal parts memory and nightmare. Behind the Diarch, soldiers faltered once more, their minds cracking under the weight of the Mortarch's dominion. But the giant didn't wait for the charge to complete. He met it for he was a destroyer. Qâztharûn came down, not to kill, but to break. He aimed not at the heart, but the will, to carve a bloody canvas across the surface of his flesh, to make the Diarch taste true pain, and allow the runeblade to feast on his power. To put on display before every single one of his follows the sum total of worth within the Centurion, that all hope was lost the very moment they crossed paths The blade howled as it descended, its hunger tangible. This was not the end of a battle. This was the opening chapter of a reckoning. Regardless of the blades success he whipped the Diarch down hard to drive him into, through the earth beneath them. It came with such force behind it to cause even the crust of a noble world to give way and fissure beneath his fury, the beginning of a lesson written in agony, the quill dipped in the Centurion's own blood.

Diarch Rellik | Lirka Ka | Jacen Breska 'TK-710' | CT-312 | Laphisto | Kaila Irons | Indra Quin | Zinayn | Gerwald Lechner ​

 

[Lirka Ka]

OBJECTIVE 1
TAGS: Jacen Breska 'TK-710' CT-312 Kaila Irons Darth Prazutis Laphisto Diarch Rellik Zinayn

The battlefield had erupted into chaos, and Lirka was home again.

Great warriors from both sides had now entered the fray, though among them faces that Lirka would probably have rather not seen. Kaila Irons arrived with billowing cape and the warriors of Echnos at her back, the familiar shape of the Darkshear appearing around her. Lirka's head turned to gaze at the woman for a time, Darth Anathemous...the Diarchy may have been Lirka's enemy today, but in the back of her mind the Once-Sephi wanted to return the favor of the would-be-assassination attempt on D'Qar. But alas, there was murdering to be done in the present, rather than fantasizing about petty revenge.

The Diarchy's AT-AEs had drawn her attention much more as the battlefield exploded in the flash of all-destructive plasma, Lirka hit the dirt briefly. Sliding through the muck as she quickly moved for the cover of the clashing lines of the Sith and Diarchy for cover - she didn't know this lot particularly well, but she knew it was a rare breed that would risk annihilation of their own warriors with weapons of great power. It was a guess, but a guess was all she needed to herald the slaughter.

The brand beneath her helm itched greatly today, to be close to Darth Prazutis was enough of a proxy to warrant being close to the Butcher-King Darth Carnifex and let his foul blood boil within her soul. Compelling the Once-Sephi's monstrous form to violence, with blade alight she danced into the fray with murderous glee. The sweeping blows that Zinayn saw, to the careful eye, were a thing of cruelty. For as much as Lirka killed, taking heads from necks or searing burning gashes into what soldiers she could - Lirka maimed all the same. She was keeping survivors, perhaps to be picked through once the battlefield calmed, or perhaps far more cruelly: to leave scarred survivors to spread her legacy.

She could hear the speeches of the Diarch, and the rallying cries of plenty of warriors, both Sith and Diarchy alike. Well...Lirka was never one to turn down the opportunity for a good speech

"Warriors! Exalt, for today is a day of glorious slaughter! Let the blood of the foolhardy run deep into the dirt of Serenno, let the blood of friend and foe alike slick these lands! Exalt! For the holiness of Darkness touches our souls, let the might of the Dyarch compel you to greatness, let the death of your fellows drive you to greater heights! Death, warriors! Let them taste death!"

In truth, Lirka spoke to no one in particular but herself. Oh how she loved the sound of her own voice. Soon the comm message of CT-312 reached her ears, under normal circumstances Lirka may have spouted a demand to be addressed by one of her titles - but today, she was simply having too much fun in the slaughterhouse.

"Met, Warrior-."

Lirka was a strange woman, to say the least. Soldiers did not have ranks to her, they all just fell under that all-encompassing descriptor of "warrior".

"-Keep point, and I shall cut you and your fellows a path! Exalt, share in the glorious bloodshed of this day!"

Evidently, she was in a mood. Lirka's electro-whip crackled to life, entangling around some unfortunate soul as their body convulsed and fried under the energy coursing through their veins. Eyes still scanning along the horizon, she was desperate for big game to hunt - and if she didn't find it soon, she might have had to turn her machete into the Sith's newest anti-armor division with those walkers making the mess that they were.

 

[Lord Depravious]

// Objective 3
// Tags: Maldor Mecetti

Lord Depravious had heeded the summons of the Emperor. Whether to sever enemy supply lines or shield allies from unseen blades, the objectives set before him were noble—strategic, even. Yet, Shaidin Kamari knew that with any new expansion or incursion came an entanglement of logistics, politics, and the ever-present need for governance. The arrival of the Diarchy in Sith territories was not merely a military concern—it was a political trespass. And Lord Depravious had not come to draw a blade, but to unsheathe a far subtler weapon: influence.

Clad in armor of deep obsidian, each curve etched with ancient markings, a Krayt Dragon coiled elegantly around the curved hilt at his side. But it was not merely the blade nor the armor that announced his presence—it was the way he walked. As if time itself bowed to his steps. As though he had weathered storms older than the stars and emerged untouched by their fury.

Before the forum session was called to order, a number of chancellors had gathered outside, murmuring among themselves in quiet discussion. Their robes spoke of governance, their voices of policy—but the moment Depravious stepped into their midst, a hush began to coil its way through the air. Though many of them had likely seen Sith before, few would have expected one here, amidst the diplomats of the Diarchy.

But Shaidin was not here for theatrics. He was here to shift the current. To cast a long, noble shadow and whisper doubts into open ears.

He identified several chancellors—ones who seemed either pliable or overly ambitious—and approached with deliberate poise. He bowed his head ever so slightly, a gesture that hinted at courtesy without surrender.

His voice, when it came, was low and refined. Every syllable chosen with precision, every word a carefully placed stone in a path toward uncertainty.

"What, may I ask, is the true purpose of your excursions into Sith space?"

There was no malice in the question—only curiosity, the kind that disarmed and invited honesty. His tone was smooth, distant, and yet somehow familiar. This was not the first time he had spoken with nobles. Nor the hundredth.

"Surely you must understand how such provocations are perceived," he continued, his voice as soft as velvet and as sharp as broken glass. "To stir the ire of the Sith is not simply to invite war—it is to court oblivion. And that wrath does not discriminate between soldiers and statesmen."

He paused, allowing the silence to linger like smoke before exhaling a quiet breath, as if pained by the burden of truth.

"If word reaches the Emperor that your people have been mistreating those sworn to the Order—treating them as lesser—well…" A gentle scoff escaped him. It was a performative sigh, the kind an old friend gives before telling you what you don't wish to hear. "I daresay not even the Galactic Alliance could shield you from what would follow."

Then, as a confidant might to another behind closed doors, he stepped just slightly closer—not a threat, but a whisper shared between equals.

"You would be wiser to consider alliance over antagonism. Think carefully on the power that flows freely through Sith space—unfettered by bureaucracy, untouched by democratic delay. The Order does not put its strength to vote. It acts."

He let that truth settle, like a dagger placed gently on a table between them.

"There is opportunity here. Should you seek accord rather than conflict, the Sith may grant you more than your current stations. Recognition, without the stifling weight of protocol."

He let his gaze wander briefly over the gathered officials, then fixed it once more upon the ones who still listened.

"You have demonstrated a respect for the battlefield. But do not mistake tolerance for patience. Do not spill the blood of your people only to see your victories turned to cinders."

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Mystral Canyon, Serenno, Objective I: Echoes of War​

All of his senses screamed, the force screamed. It warned for him to turn the other way. Like a slave crawling to flee its abusive master. As he crossed the threshold of aura where soldiers and machine alike recoiled and were divided from the force, he felt it. The Diarch was versed in the dark arts and had manipulated the force before. This was no mere exploitation. It was a walking Nexus. An aberration in the galaxy. When Rellik attacked he pushed harder than he ever had in his life, ensuring that the armor would be met with overwhelming force. Fearing even he could be stripped from the force and made fodder.

Time was slowed - the world around himself moving at a fraction of his speed. The same darkness that molded the earth with each step of his enemy was now creeping out as a mist from the chest plate of the giant. Its extending form looking to feed on the hand coming to attack it. Whatever sorcery this is, I will accept it in fair trade. Your heart for my arm. My push was enough. The worry he felt was real or perhaps amplified. This walking mountain of death was already altering Relliks Force senses and warping his perception.

He noticed it, the Beast of Shadow stepped forward. Moving faster than the remainder of the world around them. The mist from his armor turning into a more tangible form that reached out and wrapped around Relliks hand. No damn you! It did not falter or deter his angle like he thought it would. Instead as Rellik tried to amplify the cursed force around him to push harder into the armor - the armor aided his attack. Moving with him to plunge into his enemy and when it did - the world trembled in reaction. The force of the attack sending shockwaves through the valley.

Ripping his hand away and turning his shoulders to amplify the attack from his saber to the rune inscribed helm he made one final push. What was a distraction was now his hope. - Yet that hope faded to black as it was stopped a mere inch from his opponents face.

The screams of the slain, replayed out from the helm itself. Mocking Relliks ability to save his fallen warriors.

"Bring your blade, your banner, your belief. I will bury them all in the same breath."

The voice of his enemy was muddled and faded as another voice crept into the back of the Diarchs mind.

You were always my chosen son. My destined heir and you failed me. I should have simply taken your brother and raised him alone. - Kakus. Father of the Diarchs.

Rellik was frozen for a moment. This guilt, fear, and shame filled his soul. Reign was always the stronger, father should have chosen him. The ground itself cracked under his feet and Rellik could not react. Memories and voices of those soldiers, lovers, his father that he failed froze him in the same way his soldiers were frozen before. It all filled the air and it felt as though those fallen were clawing at his legs and pulling him to his grave. A grave shared with those damned by his faults.

Yet despite it all his instincts screamed. An attack was coming. The scars on his body warned of an attack that would come to leave another. Without fully processing it - Rellik tilted his head to the side and turned his body. The ginormous blade of his enemy leaving a cut vertically upon his cheek. Creating a stinging pain unlike anything he had ever felt. It did not burn his body alone. It burned within his soul.

Before he could fully handle the reality of what had happened. Rellik felt his body being thrown to the ground. The impact of the attack leaving a crater where one could assume a giant artillery shell had landed. For several meters around the two warriors there was nothing left but rubble, shattered bodies and stains of blood.

The young Diarch felt a light form around him. A comforting embrace that had broken through the darkness that enveloped him ever since his attack. The warmth of a father.

Your bond is your strength. I always have and always will love you my son. RISE

Relliks body screamed but he had returned. He was Diarch. He was his fathers dream made manifest! Those who had fallen could not be honored with giving up. So he never would.

The colossal hand of his opponent was pinning him to the ground. He latched unto its wrist. The Diarch attempted to shock both himself and the beast together. Yet as the first sparks came out - something felt off. He was weakened. Even then it appeared that the armor simply absorbed the attack. If anything the fist on his chest felt empowered in return.

Facing his enemy Rellik smiled a bloody, wheezing smirk. "How many years has it been since a loved one wrapped around you."
Hoping his words were distracting he would take his off hand and etche a word into a nearby small piece of the mountain with his sparks. X'aviera Postum - THUNDEROUS PUSH . "You should learn not to hold on so tightly."

Grabbing the stone and than wrapping his smaller frame legs around the arm of the Beast and locking his ankles around his shoulders. Rellik took a risk and placed the rock at the elbow of the arm on the Beast. If the armor amplified force effects and fed on them. Than the two would use Ur-Kittat written runes and amplify the marking upon the mountain rock.

X'AVIERA POSTUM!! - The words meant to send a screeching force push through the air. Utilizing both noise and force to attack.

The Diarch was relying on what he had left. If he could break, rip, or dislocate the arm than it was a start. Simply using the amplified dark side energy around them. If not than he would have to hold on. Attempting to heel kick the helmet off while defending himself from the blade with his saber that was next to him on the ground. Worst case scenario - His personal Basalisk Kyr'amor would need to finally be activated.

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Equipment

• LO-48B Lilaste Order Armor
• Normal Golden blade of the Diarch
• Medpacs/stims within his belt + One Vial of CRIMSON ELIXIR
• RDB-01 Dra'khan Sentinel Droid's - 5 droid team
• Basalisk War droid - Hidden underneath a tarp awaiting activation from the Diarch

Tags: Darth Prazutis​

 

[Voice of the Diarchy]

CURRENT CHARACTER - RDB-01 Dra'khan Sentinel Droid
ROLE - PROTECT THE CENTURION
WEAPONRY - LO-18D ASSAULT RIFLE, LO-12S SIDE ARM, LO-9M[Melee weapon. Sword], LO-Va'karis Shield [Small]

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The orders of the Diarch Rellik were clear. A fundamental programming preference has been enacted by his whill. Protect the Centurion. The leader of the 500 warrior Cohort that was in charge of the convoy traversing through the valley of the mountain.

espite max priority - protocol still dictates on risk of Diarch death; all orders will be overridden:

So the terms of the engagement were set for the RDB's and for now they would be deactivated until called upon. Storing their power for when the moment called upon them. That moment would come sooner than expected.

With a streak of lightning across the sky, and the unrelenting waves of enemies upon the men and women of the Diarchy. Rellik had activated his RDB security droids. Leaving them with the Centurion of the Cohort while he went to face against the leader of those who opposed them.

:Activation sequence activated:

:Adaptive combat enacted, threat assessment activated:

:Combat systems. Engage:

The five RDB's came to life. Talking in silence to each other as the ambush began. As the first troopers of the SO descended upon the mountain side they would move in tandem to surround the Centurion in a several meter wide pentagram. Each trooper actively guarding one direction. As the enemy came into the edge of the battle gas cannisters were shot out as a deterrent for any organized assault they had planned. The few lightsaber wielding Sith who approached were met with 30-06 slug rounds that shattered around their defenses.

As the droids defended their command - their sensors pinged for any threats outside of their reach who might put the life of the Centurion or their Diarch at risk. The never ending override of Relliks orders having to be replayed as a life threatening engagement to a normal man was not the same for him. So they held at bay. Combat system and Loyalty programs intertwining as they were preoccupied with the unrelenting assault from all sides. Yet none had entered their wall of death.

Than a shot rang - a Heavy bolter missile screamed through the sky and pinged one of the RDB droids directly in the head.

With an intimidatingly quick flick of its head, its Reactive Targeting AI snapped to the culprit. CT-312

The advanced processing systems diagnosed that no damage could come from such a weapon but as it looked at the surrounding unit of the one who fired the first shot a threat that could destroy their order and the Diarch was diagnosed. - A mortar kit that could unleash raining hell fire without retaliation.

With unspoken command and communication - one RDB droid was designated to remove the threat at by any means necessary. As it broke off from the pentagram of security the other four immediately filled in its place.

Unleashing its LO-9M sword and activating its LO-Va'karis Shield - the machine waded through bodies of enemies to reach the base of the mountain. Keeping its shield in one hand and pulling out its assault rifle in the other. It reloaded slug rounds and pushed towards the spot of the mortar team.

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Tags: CT-312 Laphisto

 

[Khal'vyssa]

Location: Verrinox Estate - Serenno
Objective: II - House of Ash and Blood
Mission Objective: Kill the Diarchy Command Structure
Diarchy: Varis Oakertain Callista Sharde Diarch Reign
Sith Order: Serina Calis Darth Empyrean

The tolling of the great bell was the trigger for her activation. The sound rang out across the estate in a loud, reverberating peal that was audible to virtually everyone within its proximity. It cried out in a foreboding dirge, coaxing a passing Twi’lek servant to stop as he shifted his gaze towards the tower which contained the bell.

And as he did, Khal’vyssa appeared beside him.

The servant gasped, his eyes going wide with equal parts terror and disbelief as he took in the much smaller, yet far more lethal figure within his proximity. However, she was already moving by the time he turned around, her form flickering in shadow as the Death-Weave in her bodysuit blurred his senses.

Then, in little more than a blink, the Shikkari was gone.

The bell had fallen silent by the time Khal’vyssa reached the outer sections of the estate. Balanced on the edge of a building’s roof, the cloaked Shikkari monitored the incoming Diarchy attack force through her smart contacts, her eyes scanning across trenches, ramparts, bunkers, and yet more defensive structures in the process.

Recalling her briefing, Khal’vyssa set her sights on one of the bunkers. She had been tasked with infiltrating enemy lines and eliminating key Diarchy command personnel in order to cause widespread destabilization. In doing so, the assassin visualized the faces and names of her targets in her mind. Not all of them needed to die, but those who the opportunity presented to kill could not be allowed to escape.

However, at the top of her list, which she had remembered in order of priority, was one particular face that she had set her sights on. The image of a man with sharp, yet aged features, well-dressed hair with streaks of white, and a clean shave struck her. However, given the length of the campaign, she anticipated that he might have grown some stubble and that his hair might not be as well-kept.

Still, Khal’vyssa knew that she would not need much to pick him out.

While still cloaked, the Shikkari leapt off of the roof, allowing gravity to capture her form as she slipped through the air. Then, slowing her descent via the repulsors in her boots, she landed silently within one of the Diarchy’s trenches just as the clouds tore open above, coaxing her gaze upward.

A creeping sensation struck her then, but Khal’vyssa quickly bit it down, her features tightening with resolve as she moved into the Diarchy’s lines...

Spoiler: Loadout

• Moonlight Shadow
  
  • Arms
    
    • Lacera - Sith Lanvarok - L Gauntlet
      
      • Ammunition
        
        • 30 Disc Magazine (4)
          
          • Neuranium Disc - Void Stone Treatment
    • FAE/M-02 Energized Gauntlet Vibroblade - R Gauntlet
    • FAE/EMW-01 Plasma Chakram Projector - L Glove
      
      • Ammunition
        
        • FAE/AM-01-S2 Energy Weapon Cartridge (4)
          
          • Ethaerium Gas and CryoBan Coolant
    • Slicing Glove - R Glove
• Siqsa-S1 Semiautonomous Seeker Obscuration Canister (4)
• FAE/MDE-01-S1 Semiautonomous Seeker Concussion Explosive (2)

 

[Tamsin Graves]

​

OBJ: BYOO Devotion of War
Theme: Aurora
Location: Korriban Academy Auditorium
Equipment: Twin Omens | DE-10 | Combat Knife | Multi-Tool | Circlet of Projection | Stars Enchained
Tags: Naamino Zuukamano | OPEN to others of Korriban Academy

​

War had broken out between The Sith Order and The Diarchy. It was inevitable, the Sith desired to conquer and impose their rule of order on the Galaxy. The Diarchy thought themselves the arbiter of order and that only they could bring it to the Galaxy. Two ideals of order and how it should be carried out could not coexist no matter how hard they tried, eventually their differences would shine through, and they would clash.

That day had now come, and blood would be shed on both sides. Brutal forces coming to blows in the trenches and canyons of Serenno. Yet there were those within the sith order who once showed solidarity and made alliances with the Diarchy. Among those who had were several within the Government and Academy of Korriban.

This where Tamsin Graves the marshal of Echnos had been dispatched along with several other law enforcement and intelligence members of the Sith order had been sent, to Korriban. Others had also been sent to other places across sith space. Their job was simple interrogate the diarchy sympathizers and assess there finding then report to higher authorities that will determine judgement.

The diminutive figure that was Tamsin didn't look to intimidating standing there in the center of the auditorium among several students and faculty that had been identified and brought forth. However, several armed sith troopers stood near her giving her the weight her figure did not. She had seen several of the faces gathered, as she herself had once been a part time student here. She doubted any of them would remember or recognize her as she looked on the faces gathered.

She looked at each of them, she would be lying to herself if her thoughts were fully on the job in front of her. She was as always concerned with her sister Kaila Irons , and her friends Quinn Varanin , @ Eira Dyn , Alana Calloway , and others who were most likely out on the war front while she was here so far away from the fighting.

She let an unknowing silence fall over those gathered leaving them guessing why she was here with armed guards. She let the silence linger and settle in before finagling speaking.

"I am Marshal Graves, some of you may know that today that the Diarchy dared to infiltrate the world of Serenno which is an act of aggression towards the Orders claimed Territory." It would not be a surprise to most as students and faculty had family, friends, or associates that had been sent to the warfront. Yet speaking, that did not explain why these people had been called here to the auditorium.

"The academy of Korriban, has been known to associate with the Diarchy in the past. That some of their high-ranking members have even been allowed to train and teach here. Also, that some former students have defected to their illegitimate government." It was a rehearsed line that had been spoken over and over in her head. It wasn't a belief of her own she herself knew people good people in the Diarchy, yet today she was their enemy.

"We can not serve two masters, for we can only love one and hate the other or be devoted to one and despise the other as the old proverb says. You have all been called her because you have interacted and some of you even fought along side the Diarchy." It was strange this confidence and authority that rose over Tamsin, she had never really felt like this before. Something deep inside of her but not the demon seemed to rise up and boost her as she addressed those gathered.

"I must assess your allegiance and faith in this Order." As she said that one of the soldiers handed her a data pad, as another brought a single chair forward. "I call forth Naamino Zuukamano , come take a seat."

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

OBJECTIVE 1

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
TAG: Kaila Irons | Diarch Rellik | Indra Quin | Darth Prazutis

The wind screamed through the jagged hollows of Mysteal Canyon, where nature once carved majesty from stone. That grandeur was gone now, obliterated by turbolaser fire and the iron march of war machines. The cliffs bled dust and heat. The air stank of melted durasteel and scorched bone.

Serenno had given its pride to the enemy.

Gerwald Lechner would take its soul.

He stood at the edge of a shattered ridge. Black armor broadcasted his presence on the field of battle, his expression carved from cold intent. Below, the basin writhed with fire and steel. The Second Legion surged forward with mechanical grace, their black-and-blood banners rising through smoke as trench lines collapsed beneath their advance.

The Dread Wolf didn't need to turn to know where the clash raged. He could feel the storm of brute force and rage blooming just below the opposite ridge. Prazutis never moved with subtlety. His presence was a blunt instrument, a thunderclap that demanded the galaxy look his way.

Always louder than necessary.

Always desperate to remind the galaxy he mattered.

Gerwald held no illusions about the Dark Titan.

Powerful?

Unquestionably, but everything he did was steeped in old blood and decaying myth. He still fought for shadows of an empire long dead, and clung to Carnifex's legacy like a child too afraid to let go of a corpse.

Let him scream into the wind.

Gerwald was not here for theatrics. He was here to end things.

A familiar voice, soft and delicate, deceptive of its true nature, fell to his ear.

"I've spotted the Diarch, my lord."

Darth Anathemous.

Her voice, as always, cut through the static like a vibroblade, precise and measured.

"Darth Prazutis is engaging him."

Of course he was. That old brute couldn't resist a spectacle. But Gerwald had already moved on.

His eyes lifted.

There she stood, Anathemous, the Valkyrie of the Second Legion, poised like a statue carved of vengeance and iron. The wind tore at her waist cape as she balanced on the cliff's edge, motionless but for the rising tension in the air. Through her crimson visor, she watched the battlefield unfold like a living sacrifice.

Then, she dropped.

She fell like a blade from the heavens, her form streaking through the smoke. The Force caught her descent, slowing it to an eerie, ghostlike glide. She hovered just above the battlefield, wrapped in a shimmering veil of protective energy that was otherworldly.

The Second Legion moved below like a tidal wave. Troopers rappelled into the basin from both sides of the canyon. Masked Echnosian expeditionaries flowed behind them, wordless and serene in their violence.

Anathemous lifted her hand.

From above her palm, inky black spears formed in the air, each one forged of shadow and doctrine. They pulsed with hatred, with faith.

"Echnosians!" she called, her voice warped by the war-mask, low and resonant.

With a flick of her wrist, the spears struck.

They pierced armor. They tore through flesh. Veins blackened on contact, skin blistered around the impact sites. The wounded screamed, but not for long.

"REND THEIR FALSE IDOLS."

That was the signal.

Gerwald ignited his lightsaber, the crimson blade humming with anticipation. He stepped forward—not into the fray, but into command.

"Advance," he said into the comms.

"Sweep the canyon. No mercy. No surrender. Only victory and glory!. Let this world remember who cast down their gods."

Let Prazutis rage.

Gerwald would carve truth into the stone of Serenno.

And when the echoes faded, the only thing left in Mysteal Canyon would be silence.

And ash.

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

Objective 3 - Rules of Law
_______________________________________​

Maldor stood up once the assembly was fully seated, and his visage was holo-projected into the center of the room. Thus no one need look in his direction, or content themselves with a tiny ant-sized figure from their vantage across the large room. All seating faced the vast central void into which the inflated countenance of the speaker now floated.

"Assembled Chancellors, it is my pleasure to begin this sixteenth session of the Diarchal Chancellorate Forum, where the chosen representatives of our many worlds- experts in culture, in science, in administration, in commerce- join together to guide the ship of state towards the horizon of opportunity."

While this was the sixteenth session of the Forum, it was its first with Maldor as High Chancellor. The Diarchy had endured some fluctuation of government structure since its formation. While the representatives here had all been chosen, they had not necessarily been chosen by the people of their worlds. Even when they had been, those planetary citizens had been given an approved roster of candidates. Candidates approved by the Diarchs and their machine of governance, judged less likely to work against the interests of the Diarchy. It was something of a... managed democracy.

"Today, the matter which brings this assembly to order is a weighty one: As we expand into territories with strong Sith influence, we must decide what to do with the practitioners of this religion, and what to do about their places of worship, of gathering, and even of administration...

______________________________________________​

As Maldor droned on, Nikoga Kosta leaned close to hear what Depravious had to say. The Chancellor of Culture for the Kalee system had found the suppression of Sith cultural practices and artifacts somewhat distressing. The Sith had touched the world of Kalee a thousand years ago, their dark and powerful finger touching Kaleesh affairs through the hand of Palpatine and his minions.

Many sites and adherents persisted even after all of this time. Not just Sith themselves, but Dark Side cults of various descriptions, all owing their existence to that first touch of the Sith.

Nikoga was a conservationist. The suppression of the Sith did not sit well with him at all. To think of all the language, history, and cultural practices that would be snuffed out if a campaign of purging the Sith persisted in the galaxy! It would be a dreadful loss.

"Holy wars benefit no one," Nikoga agreed with Depravious. "culture should be shared to the benefit of all. If only I had the words to grip the forum and hold their minds keen to the possibilities."

It seemed at least one ear had been found for Depravious' words...

_________________________________________

"...and so, who will open this topic for debate?" Maldor asked, holding a hand aloft to the Forum.




Lord Depravious

 

[Varis Oakertain]

Objective II: Siege of Verrinox​

Current Task: Ensure the line holds

He remembered her name. He did his best to learn them all as the Diarchy numbers faded during the weeks of battle. "Callista, There are not many of us left to feed and I promise - this old dog has survived on much less. Worst case scenario I can go steal another piece of bread and some schnapps from those idiots back in the bunker." Varis gave a hearty laugh. He was leading the Diarchy forces and advising the milita but he was a grizzled old military man. He knew this poor womans last moments might come within the hour and he treated her as his equal.

As his words finished, his lord arrived. Diarch Reigns transports were flooding the secured lines behind him. "I told them he would come." he said softly. He turned to Callista and patted her on the shoulder. "Get ready to give that salute again. It will rally the troops of the Diarch to see our spirits are still high."

With Reigns approach Varis gave a strong salute. His ally and brother to his best friend had arrived and with a strong presence of success.

"My brother was wise to send you Varis, look at what you have accomplished. Tell me my friend, where do you need..."

The words were cut off. The world was cut off - or at least altered in a way Varis had never seen before. An eclipse enveloped what could be the entire trench line. Kilometers of darkness spread in every direction. Even the hardest soldiers amongst them were staring into the sky with awe.

"So it begins"

Reigns words shook Varis into action. "Ready your rifle Callista Sharde - prepare yourself to follow the Diarch. I must take leave and ensure everyone else knows their role"

What began as a fast paced walk erupted into a full scale sprint as a ginormous droid dropped from the sky. Its grey and red frame reflecting the dark red glow of the eclipse. Droids like vultures flew around the larger one. Shooting and swooping down to pick up soldiers and drop them from the air.

Moving through the lines Varis gave out commands through direct yells and the communicator in his hand. "FRONT LINE, FACE FORWARD. PREPARE TO ADVANCE. - REAR LINES, WEAPONS TO THE SKY."

The world erupted in war. Varis perched himself at the forward command bunker tied into the front trench line. A makeshift wooden structure that was no where nearly as secure as the hard Duracrete bunker where those militia generals were still staged. Grabbing a large whistling device he moved to a ladder across the trench and peered over the wire.

Basic battle droids were now flooding in from around the estate on the side of the enemy. - With the diarchy forces reinforcing militia troopers now prepared, facing forward and awaiting command. Varis gave it.

"FIRST LINE - FIRE THAN ADVANCE." As the synchronized volley of the Diarchy troops was intertwined with disorganized shots from the militia the first few rows of droid troopers fell. "TALKING GUNS // CHARGE!!"

The men and women of the Diarchy lifted themselves over the trench line as Varis blew the speaker enhanced whistle device - the unit leaders organizing staggered fire as other troops advanced and than vice versa. Militia members and the less veteran troops falling as they could not suppress the enemy or were picked off by the vultures of the sky. The large B2's arms raised and released a torrent of fire. What Varis deemed was 1000 rounds a minute were streaming across the battlefield. Luckily enough for them - it did not seem to prioritize targets. Varis himself had to move back into the forward makeshift bunker and coordinate with the rear to find a big enough gun to take out the Giant B2 droid.

Equipement:
Hunter Cloak, Vest.
Bandolier
Utility Belt
Whipcord Launcher
F-11D Blaster Rifle
Comlink

Tags: Diarch Reign Callista Sharde Serina Calis Darth Empyrean Commodore Helix Roxsie Khal'vyssa

 

[Callista Sharde]

Objective II: Siege of Varrinox
Current task: Assault the Manse

"Callista, There are not many of us left to feed and I promise - this old dog has survived on much less. Worst case scenario I can go steal another piece of bread and some schnapps from those idiots back in the bunker."

To hear the Lord Commander know her name was a shock to the new soldier. And she could only stare while her brain buffered for a bit. Why did he know her name? She wasn’t even a proper Legionary yet, just a militiawoman, not even a true soldier yet. And he knew her name.

It almost brought a tear to her eye, to know that she wasn’t just another number of the page to someone that high up. It was… inspiring honestly.

“I am grateful, sir.” She said, relenting as she accepted the morsel of bread and water flask offered to her.

Then the Diarch Reign walked past, and her posture immediately stiffened again. Snapping back to a salute as he passed by. Fully expecting to be ignored by him, given that he was a head of state and she was a nobody, even being near this person was terrifying. If she so much as breathed wrong she might be cut down for all she knew.

But that didn’t last long. The ominous feeling exuded by the manor on the slope above them became even more menacing. Her gaze turned to it, and the black sense of dread built in her gut. She could not deny that she was terrified.

But that didn’t matter, she had a duty.

Reigns words shook Varis into action. "Ready your rifle Callista Sharde Callista Sharde - prepare yourself to follow the Diarch. I must take leave and ensure everyone else knows their role"

It would seem the time had come. “Yes sir!” She said with forced enthusiasm. Forcing the ever-present terror aside she drew the long knife from her hip, and fitted it onto the bayonet lug on her rifle. The time was upon them.

“Mors ante dedecus.” She muttered to herself as she returned to the edge of the trench, ready to hurl herself over the wire when the call came to do so. She was certain that she would die here, but she would not let that stop her. This place was evil, what was housed within, was evil. And it needed to die, no matter the cost it needed to die.

And if her life could be traded to further that goal, and make the galaxy a better place, then so be it.

She struggled to control her breathing, trying to keep her fear under control.

Then the whistle came. She fired a shot, a B2 droid fell disabled into the dirt, and she went over. There was the sound of thunder, unlike the mournful knell that sounded only minutes earlier, this was an angry roar as artillery shells flew overhead, and the feet of every soldier and militiaman hit the dirt at a dead sprint. Militiamen leading from the front, Callista among them, their purpose to serve as meat shields for the real soldiers, to preserve the lives of those who could do more by sacrificing their own. It was a grim task, but a task that had to be done.

Besides, who else in the galaxy could say they charged a line of heavy battle droids with bayonets? Callista doubted there were many.

Every so often she would fire off a shot, and another droid would drop. Meanwhile her comrades fell one by one around her. And yet somehow every bolt missed her, and she kept charging. Finally she reached the enemy line, and the first battle droid she reached met the tip of her bayonet. The blade sinking into the red light that indicated it was active, one of the few spots in the droid soft enough that a bayonet could actually do damage. Everything else would have to be bolts, or maybe the butt of her rifle.

But she began to hope that maybe, just maybe, she might make it out of this.

Varis Oakertain , Diarch Reign

 

[Kaila Irons]

OBJECTIVE I​

Wearing: Armor + XMSS + Mask
Tag: Gerwald Lechner Indra Quin Diarch Rellik
Mentioned: Voice of the Diarchy
Forces: Echnosian Wastewalkers

Another flick of her wrist returned the darkshears to an immaterial state.

They vanished in clouds of black smoke, leaving impaled victims to finally rest on the canyon floor, though some poor souls survived, for now. They were left for the crows by black-clad troopers who continued to advance with militant precision, blasting their way into the fray and lobbing Ion-grenades at hostile vehicles and droids alike to test their defenses. Many were cut down, but so too were their enemies, shot overzealously by weak carbines or cleanly through with high powered sniper rifles, some mangled by vibroshovels and bayonets.

Anathemous would not heed them. They were as if set pieces in a play, she and Lord Lechner acting out it's leading roles, focused entirely on their end of the script.

The loss of life around her was... unfortunate, perhaps more so to her than most sith, but she'd since learnt the necessity of their sacrifice. They all had an objective to achieve and to deviate from that razor focus was to sacrifice more than needed.

"Advance," he said into the comms.

"Sweep the canyon. No mercy. No surrender. Only victory and glory!. Let this world remember who cast down their gods."

"On it!" she replied to the voice of her lord commander.

It was a beautiful thing to see the leader of this legion in action with her own eyes at last, having spent too many of these battles split up by the madness of war. Where chaos tread rampant, The Wolf gave his warriors predatory focus needed to survive.

She did as ordered by the Dark Councilor and Lord Imperator of this legion, floating forward above her men like an avenging angel, flinging dark spears to defend the legion's wounded and destroy priority targets.

But it made herself a target in kind, exposed, inviting.

Anathemous grit her teeth as bullets slammed into her shield, some splitting on impact in unnatural flashes, others becoming lodged in it's spectral form.

She dropped to the ground as it abruptly shattered around her like broken glass as she landed on her knee and fist. There was no point in wasting her energy to hold the barrier while so exposed to such weaponry, that heavy metal she'd learned to be wary of. Instead she shot upright and joined the march forward, summoning a violet saber from her belt with which she would return stray blaster bolts to their senders.

"We've sentry droids of some kind, or assassins perhaps," she warned over the comms.

"They are wielding slugthrowers sir, and heavy."

She paused momentarily, locking eyes with a fellow darksider who moved with a violent grace through the field, cutting her men down with sickening ease, creating a wall of death between the Second Legion and Diarch Rellik .

With a practiced flourish she flipped the saber into a reverse grip and outstretched her opposing hand, ready to wield the force and saber both as she took a most unusual stance for a sith; Niman.

She rolled her augmented shoulders and sent one last message to her lord; "I'll call you back."

Then she pointed her index and little finger right at Indra Quin .

Lightning crackled between them like a living tuning fork.​

​

 

[Commodore Helix]

Objective 2: Defend the Manor
Equipment: Unchanged
Tags: Varis Oakertain / Callista Sharde /OPEN​

Helix noted the speed and precision with which the enemy reacted to the droids' surprise appearance. No mere amateurs, these. They simply regrouped and returned fire instead of panicking at the very sight of the airborne predators and their horrifying weaponry. Further use of shock tactics would be a waste of his limited numbers. The Diarchy were a new player on the galactic field, but clearly, neither their troops nor their commanders lacked for grit and experience.

He'd long been interested to see what these upstarts fought like, and his initial impressions of their competence were positive. Still, part of him felt that this entire conflict could have been settled in a different manner. Virtually every governmental body in the galaxy hated the Sith, and here was but one more tenuous neutrality shattered. As likely as not, they would pay for it in the long run. He was not a politician, however, but a commander, and he had a job to do.

The Comet was doing as it was designed to, shrugging off all small arms fire directed at it with gusto while serving as a large target to focus on. Still, if the enemy's reaction time was anything to go by, they would be bringing heavy weapons to bear on it shortly. The airborne elite alone could not hold this tide back, particularly given their limited numbers. He experienced a flicker of frustration amidst his data-consciousness.

"Pull back all air assets to the manor." Came his command, more of a wordless thought than a sentence. His perspective shifted, then shifted again, viewing the world through the eyes of his droids. Losses were mounting, and he'd need to preserve their numbers if he intended to hold the manor for as long as possible. The droids still in the air turned, the roar of their engines syncing as they retreated to help shore up the second line.

"Hostiles are engaging in close assault tactics." Came a chiming report from one of the B1H troopers stationed at the front of the manor grounds. Helix flicked his consciousness into the eyes of the troops deployed there. Indeed, the enemy was cutting their way through in close combat. Interesting. He made a note of this unusual tactic. "Understood." He replied. "Deploying heavy assault units to assist."

The ground shook as a pair of Mangler droids charged into the fray. The air filled with the sounds of snarling chainsaws as the towering droids met the charge. These were rare, specialized, and very, very good at clearing the way in such tight quarters. He only hoped it would be enough, at least to delay them if nothing else.

"Helix reporting." He broadcasted over Sith command channels. "The enemy is assaulting the second line. The situation has deteriorated somewhat, but we are holding for now. Will update with any future changes." With that, he knew it was time to go and get his hands dirty. All hands on deck were needed against an assault this fierce. He climbed over the balcony's railing, dangled his feet for a moment, and jumped toward the ground far below.

 

[Brooklyn Zambrano]

Equipment | In Bio

Location | OBJ II

Tag | Roxsie



Over these past trails, Brooklyn had steeled herself. And over her last real battle she had fought in, she was learning how to lead.

And so she stood, her figure standing out against the backdrop of the fortress she was determined to hold.

"I want six men over there! You, hold this position! Make sure a technician is always checking in on the shield system!"

She gave her orders with a commanding flair, troops rushing to reinforce key positions. All the while her eyes caught a glimpse of more incoming enemies, with Roxsie being part of this group.

Brooklyn raises her hand, peering at the targets for a moment before letting loose a commanding gesture.

"Heavy rotary cannons! Take aim on those advancing targets!"

As per her order, some of the defenders manning heavy blasters would turn to aim at the attackers. Soon laying down a suppressive fire that hopefully would cut down the group. ​

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

OBJ: BYOO Devotion of War
Interrogator: Tamsin Graves
Associations Being Questioned: Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik

Outfit:
Belt of Strength, Field Com-Scan Link,
Well Worn Boots, Weal & Woe,
House Rakghoul Robes

​

The moment Naamino Zuukamano had dreaded since attending the Diarchy's Grand Declaration had finally come. There had been a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, an unsettling realization even as the party continued around him and he went on to enjoy the event with his friend Gavin Vel at his side. He had known in that moment there would come a time where loyalties would be called into question, where the innocence of youth and the hopeful ideology regarding unity of non-Jedi would come under fire.

The blue horned zabrak stood stiffly as his name was called. There was no hesitation in his bearing, there wasn't even fear. If he could face Elmindra Xitaar alone in her office and withstand her keen judgement, he would face formally questioning before his gathered peers with the stoicism of a loyal soldier. Naami made his way before the Marshal and sat as he was bid.

He sat with spine straight, ice blue eyes forward, silent until spoken to and directed to answer. Naami folded wrapped hands neatly in his lap and steadied his breathing, his tattooed face a mask of resolute calm.

 

[Indra Quin]

The air was thick with the scent of smoke and the hum of chaos. Indra's lightsaber flickered to life, the red blade cutting through the haze of the battlefield like a hot knife through butter. Her boots hit the uneven stone of the canyon floor, sending dust into the air, but her mind was sharp—her focus narrowed to the presence that tugged at her through the Force.

A Sith.

She could feel the power swirling, thrumming in the air. A challenge. Another enemy.

Indra didn't hesitate. Her body moved with the kind of precision only the years of training could provide. She surged forward, saber raised high, a blur of motion. Her first strike was a feint—a quick slash aimed at testing her opponent's defenses. She didn't care if it connected. It was only to draw them in.

Her body spun low, landing with a fluid grace, the vibrodagger already in hand. She shot forward, the blade in her other hand slashing upward. A quick flick of her wrist, and the dagger followed in a parallel arc, aiming to take her opponent by surprise.

There was no room for hesitation, no room for second thoughts. Every movement was a question—a test.

Her feet hit the ground again, her lightsaber already back in her hand, ready to strike. The blade hummed with anticipation, but there was no emotional weight behind the motion. Only calculation.

Indra's mind was cold, focused. Her breathing was steady. She didn't need to look at her opponent. She could feel them in the Force, could sense their presence as clearly as her own. But this was her fight. She didn't need to know their name. She didn't need to understand their motivations. She needed to win.

The Lordsblade of the Diarchy would die in this rocky chasm before she let this Sith advance any further. One way or another, one of these two would fall today. But it would not be Indra. She was born for this.

"You trespass. Sith. I am your reward," she said, voice heavily modulated by her helmet.

OUTFIT: Modified Optio Uniform |
| TAG: Diarch Rellik Gerwald Lechner Kaila Irons |
| EQUIPMENT: Indra's Lightsaber, Utility Belt |​