Dominion Pt. 3 - Providence | GA Dominion of Brentaal IV

[Spirit of Unity]

And to a place I come
where nothing shines…

RECAP

Tepasi system
02:860ABY
Blackwing Down​

“What the feth? Think we’ve found our missing crew…”
“I don’t have medical routines, but this injury appears to be survivable on its own.”
— Gala Geert & Dak aboard the ISV Kantius​

​

A covert task force of the Grayson Imperium was dispatched aboard a stealth corvette, the ISV Ashaton, after reports were intercepted that an unidentified Sacheen-II frigate broadcasting a distress signal had emerged from hyperspace in the Tepasi system. All attempts to hail the starship by the local Tepasi Defense Force were left unanswered, and the boarding team sent to investigate had fallen radio silent after entering the dormant vessel.​

​

The Imperium’s forces determined the frigate to be the ISV Kantius upon arrival, a Grand Imperial Navy vessel that had inexplicably fallen off the grid while on a routine patrol. The TDF personnel were discovered slaughtered and torn apart, and it was quickly revealed that the previous crew had mutated into ravenous and ghoulish beasts. With few options but to fight, the task force desperately held off the frenzied husks and recovered the Kantius’ navlogs before rigging the frigate to self-destruct and escaping the scene.​

Brentaal system
02:860ABY
Overture​

“Please, you have to help! My son was downstairs when this all started!”
“Ma’am, please calm down. We’re doing our best. Why was he down there, and how old?”
“It was for a friend’s party. H-he’s only 10…”
— Leon Gallo speaking with a survivor in her apartment.​

​

Believing the frigate to have been exposed to the Blackwing virus, the task force began tracing the steps of the ISV Kantius using its navlogs to discover the source of the infection. Arriving in the nearby Brentaal system, the group discovered Brentaal IV in a state of emergency. For reasons not yet understood, planetary communications had become scrambled and a significant portion of the population had succumbed to a similar fate as the crew of the Kantius, mutating into violent and monstrous humanoids.​

​

Before their own comms went dark, the ISV Ashaton managed to beam a request for aid to the closest allied planet, the fortress world of Anaxes. Forced to wait and hope that reinforcements would arrive, the small team went planetside to the city of Vuultin to provide aid to the locals in their desperate struggle against the strange and terrifying threat. Unfortunately, things were set to get much worse before they got any better…​

Brentaal system
02:860ABY
Abaddon’s Gate​

“The Force bends to me, Jedi. Understand that this is what you face.”
— Abaddon threatens Ryv after arriving on the planet.​

​

Shortly after the arrival of the Anaxsi Legion, reality was torn asunder at the heart of the Brentaal system. Bloodthirsty fiends poured from the gnarled vortex, seemingly led by a single warrior -- Abaddon. His innumerable forces descended upon Brentaal IV, preying on the helpless while relishing in their suffering and the unprecedented destruction.​

A frantic evacuation order was issued after Lord-Imperator Cedric Grayson is incapacitated in the Battle of Vuultin. With the planet’s defensive strongholds crumbling under the surge of hostiles and the Imperium’s naval forces overwhelmed, the Anaxsi fleet held just long enough for several transports carrying evacuees to escape to the Anaxes system.​

Anaxes system
02:860ABY
Licking Our Wounds​

“We lost too much. All these people around us lost too much. I don’t know what we’re going to do…”
“We’ll figure out something… For now, we should rest so we can be prepared for whatever comes next.”
— Loske Treicolt & Leon Gallo aboard Anaxes Station.​

The Anaxsi Response Fleet arrived at Anaxes Station after narrowly escaping the Brentaal incursion. While the local emergency responders gather the refugees and survivors cope with their losses, a representative of the High Republic arrived in the system to offer support with the escalating conflict.​

Using astrogational data collected during the fight and the knowledge and experience offered by several present experts, it is theorized that the mysterious forces may have originated from a plane of Chaos: one of the many names given to the darkest depths of the fabled Mist-Beyond. Faced with the gravity of this extra-dimensional possibility, the Grayson Imperium and High Republic agreed to pool their resources together to investigate it further, hoping to stop the hordes before they manage to breach the newly established Brentaalan Quarantine Zone and spread abroad.​

Caamas system
05:860ABY
Mistwalker​

“If we keep the focus on ourselves, it should buy our friends breathing room. We just have to fight. A lot.”
— Amea Virou to Loske Treicolt in the Field of Blades.​

Following months of testing, studies and many abandoned leads, the sudden emergence of a new Netherworld rift on Caamas presented an opportunity. Growing more desperate as the months passed by without progress, the newly reconstituted Galactic Alliance authorized a task force to travel through the gateway to scour the Field of Blades for an ancient and powerful artifact rumoured to be there: a fragment of the legendary Mortis Dagger.​

Fighting through force-induced terror, mind-bending illusions and the physical manifestations of the vengeful dead, the Alliance’s team of operatives and scientists managed to successfully recover the fragment and escape. Though only a piece of the ancient and mystical weapon that is said to have been forged by the Mortis Gods themselves, it still resonates with great power. Power the Alliance hopes to wield against the forces from Beyond…​

[ MUSIC ]

Brentaal system
07:860ABY
Present Day
​

"High Admiral, we’re approaching the drop point," the Anaxsi nobleman breaks from the trance he’d fallen into watching the spiraling blue of the hyperspace tunnel enveloping their ship. Blinking several times to center himself, he glances to the source of the voice, the junior officer overseeing the sensor station, and gives the Sullustan a nod.

His eyes bounce between several of the other system operators surrounding him. The bridge of the ASV Ouroborus was near silent, with only a soft mechanical whir and the hushed chatter of stations coordinating for the fleet's arrival. Nevertheless, the expression on everyone’s faces speaks far louder than their words. Many months had passed, but no one had forgotten what they’d seen the last time.

No one would ever forget what they’d seen.

Cassius was certainly tense, though he’d done well to hide it thus far -- a stoic man through-and-through. Over the years he’d heard himself likened to a droid more times than he could count, whether by his subordinates or the students at the Anaxsi Naval War College. Even his own children, back in the day.

He glances down when his thoughts drift to his shattered family, staring at the plaque pinned to the breast of his uniform. The gold-plated pips of the High Admiralty; the Starbird ribbon for heroics. Was it really all worth it? Despite the perceived success, his only real company at the ceremonies had been a bottle of bourbon.

The strident voice of Lt. Geel, Cassius’ Mon Calamari helmsman, interrupts his self-pitying reflection, “Sir, we’re dropping out of hyperspace!”

The gentle blue lights being cast through the viewports of the bridge intensify, building into a blinding sheet of white before dissipating in an instant as the Ouroborus snaps back into realspace. One by one, vessels of varying sizes emerge in formation around the hulking Startide-class Star Defender, lingering at the far edge of the Brentaal system. As the massive fleet of starships spring into action, the advent of the Providence -- once the pride of the Grayson Imperium’s Grand Imperial Navy -- signals the final wave of the Defense Force’s arrival.

A nebulous crimson glow permeates the star system, painting the stellar bodies within in a wash of hellish hues. Looking toward the light of Brenta, the sole star barely visible through the otherworldly haze, it's impossible to miss the misshapen vortex that had heralded the beginning of the end, twisting and crackling with energy; a ragged gash in the very fabric of reality.

“Sensors are completely dead!” the Sullustan officer cries out as he stares blankly at his display, watching the readout and holo-map flicker and glitch with his hands held out in disbelief. From Cassius’ position at the center of the bridge, he’s able to see over the officer’s shoulder, and his jaw tightens as he too witnesses the positional markers jump at random and rapidly cycle through IFF tags.

Cassius turns his head and points a finger to the Chief Flight Officer’s post, “Scatter our starfighters immediately! We need more eyes out there. We can’t stall.” He looks back to the forward viewports, eyes locked on the half of the distant rift that is visible over the bow of the Ouroborus, “Issue orders to advance: all vessels make for the portal. Ensure all transports and drop pods are loaded and prepped for launch as we pass Brentaal IV. Our ships will only have a narrow window to deploy ground forces safely -- if anyone stops moving they’ll surely be swarmed, and if they launch their transports too late, they’ll be eaten alive before they ever reach the planet. We absolutely cannot afford mistakes here.”

As the orders trickle down the chain of command, starfighter swarms emerge and the fleet begins to press forward cautiously into the cosmic mist. With their maps rendered useless and visibility on the bridges limited, the larger vessels of the Defense Force’s assault fleet are forced to rely on their short-range proximity sensors, dedicated energy receptors, and the careful guidance of starfighter squadrons to stay on course and avoid devastating collisions.

The scene is virtually identical across every bridge in the armada, with communications officers shouting live updates to the helmsman, while being barraged with information across numerous channels. Standing at the side of his helm, Cassius’ eyes scour the fog for any sign of hostile activity. Tightly gripping his own hands behind his back, his knuckles were growing whiter with each passing minute. He knew the stillness wouldn’t last -- they all did. The battle to come was inevitable, and now that they were here every minute of silence made the welling dread almost unbearable.

By the time anyone could make sense of what they were seeing, it was already too late.

Blazing yellow eyes pierce the scarlet veil first. Then, without time to react, a tangled maw bursts from the cloud with its jaw unhinged and outstretched. Far larger than even the Alliance’s great star dreadnoughts, the titan abomination the Imperium had witnessed tearing its way to realspace in the initial incursion was now free, and barreling through the line with ease. The ASV Ouroboros rocks as the port-side is clipped by a fin of the monstrosity, tossing some of the bridge crew from their posts. Cassius stumbles before managing to grab a railing to brace himself. Eyes wide, he watches the tail of the beast as it slips out of view from the bridge.

It had begun.

A wave of smaller voidlings follow in the monster’s wake, swarming the remaining vessels and aggressively pursuing the more vulnerable starfighter squadrons.

“Gods!” The shriek of the senior comms officer cuts through the chorus of shouts and groans echoing across the command deck, “We-, uh- sir! W-we’ve lost comms with the Polaris, Merkova, Empress of Autumn and several escort craft!”

The Anaxsi instinctively looks to the holo-map to track the enemy’s movement beyond the line of sight, but begrudgingly finds it featureless. No sooner than he can slam his fist against the railing does an urgent hail come through.

Trying their best to compose themselves after the traumatic experience they had just witnessed, the officer scrambles at their keypanel, “S-sir, emergency transmission from High Admiral Saul on the P-Providence. Patching it t-through!”

With a final keystroke a flickering blue projection of a well-decorated Besalisk officer appears in place of the bridge’s holo-map display. His primary arms are crossed along his chest while his secondary pair are folded behind him, straightening his posture to further emphasize his grand stature.

​

>>High Admiral. Forgive me being brief, but we haven’t much time. Stay on course. I’m redirecting to engage the creature and evacuating non-essential personnel. It’ll buy you some time. Don’t take this away from me, Callaesar. It’s been an honour.<<​

​

With nothing else but a bow of his crested head, the pre-recorded message ends.

“Confirmed, Sir. Squadrons with visibility report that the Providence appears to be breaking formation.”

Dropping downward and banking hard to the right, the lumbering dreadnought falls from its position to align its starboard broadsides before the leviathan is able to circle around for a second pass. The heavy orbital autocannons and barbette heavy turbolasers open fire, impacting with its thick hide across the vast distance, but showing little sign of damage. Nevertheless, it takes notice and charges forward, this time with its focus solely on the defiant Monarch-class vessel.

The starship just barely manages to avoid a direct collision with an expertly timed flare of its pressor beams and lateral thrust vents. Swaying from the path of destruction, the Providence engages its heavy ion engines and lines the bow of the ship with the leviathan’s center of mass as it passes by. The reinforced ramming prongs pierce the monster’s side, forcing a hideous shriek from it.

Having finally maneuvered the titan where he’d wanted it, the valiant besalisk admiral orders the dreadnought’s ion engines to throttle to full power. Disappearing from the fleet’s line of sight, the Monarch-class Star Dreadnought barrels forward with the abomination skewered on its impervium prow. It thrashes violently, stretching its neck in futile attempts to snap at the sides of the much smaller starship.

A point-blank discharge of the fore-facing orbital autocannon provokes a second wail and a momentary respite from the beast’s relentless resistance. It was all they needed. Engines pushed to their limits, the massive starship propels forward as fast as it’s capable until, finally, its final destination comes into view from the aft-set bridge -- Brentaal IV.

High Admiral Saul looks across his dimly lit tactical bridge, watching the few volunteers who’d stayed behind to selflessly commit their final moments to the task at hand. Their maneuver would not be without consequence, but it was the only way. That much he was certain.

“Admiral…” Geel’s voice trails off, but it’s enough to get Cassius’ attention. With the silhouette of the ravaged world coming into view, the crew witness the final moments of the Providence as it plunges into Brentaal IV’s atmosphere. Flames engulf the goliath chaos-spawn and dreadnought as they pass the point of no return, accelerating toward the surface at great speed until, finally, there is a flash of blinding light.

Despite the chaos surrounding them, most of the officers can’t help but stare in silent awe as a visible shockwave ripples across the surface of the planet from the point of impact. They had sacrificed themselves to give the rest some hope. Cassius would not let the noble action be in vain.

Swallowing his welling emotions, the Anaxsi’s stalwart demeanor returns to him.

“We’re almost there. Launch transports!” he shouts, watching the mushroom cloud sink in the distance, “and order all starships and personnel to cycle their focus crystals to the Mortis shards.”

Hundreds of transports and gunships begin to eject from the vessels of the Alliance’s armada under the cover of turbolaser fire and starfighter support. Squadrons scramble to intercept the voidlings as they redirect their attention to the more vulnerable craft, doing their best against overwhelming numbers to clear a path to Cormond, the planet’s ransacked capital. But there was no time for the larger vessels to linger and cover them -- the lives of the men and women on the descent were in the hands of the Force now. They’d just have to pray they would make it… enough of them, at least.

As the Defense Force’s fleet draws closer to the astral wound -- the gateway through which Hell had come become a reality -- licking tendrils of violet energy reach outward, sparking and scattering across their shields in violent bursts.

“Open a priority holo-channel with all Alliance starships,” Cassius pats his hand on Lt. Geel’s shoulder, walking back to his seat at the center of the command deck. Across the bridge, the communications officer jumps to action, frantically keying at his control panel.

“Alright. Channel’s open…” he presses one final key and a small holo-recorder rises from the floor in front of the captain's seat. Turning to look to the High Admiral, he finishes his sentence, “...now, Sir.”

With a nod of gratitude in the officer’s direction, Cassius stares down into the lens of the device. Across the vessels of the assault fleet, the Anaxsi’s image is broadcast from projectors and his voice from comms-devices. Without wasting any time on an unnecessary introduction, he begins to speak.

​

<<Brothers and sisters of the Galactic Alliance -- we have reached the precipice and go now beyond the veil. I do not know what we will find, and I can’t say for certain that we’ll return. But if we are to go, let us not go gently. Let us fight. Not just for these people nor our own. Today we fight for the survival of all that we know. These fiends have come to destroy our worlds. They’ve made a terrible mistake.>>​

With nothing else to say that might make the moment brighter, he thumbs the button on his armrest to terminate the call. As his blue-toned bust vanishes from the displays and the comms frequencies return to their previous broadcastings, his eyes close and he draws a slow, deep breath.

“May the Force be with us,” he whispers to himself, opening his eyes to gaze into the twisting miasma of colours as the ASV Ouroboros slips through the gateway and into the Mist-Beyond.

[ MUSIC ]

CHAOS RISING
Finale

Pt. III
PROVIDENCE

The path to paradise begins in hell.​

Equipped with new experimental weaponry, the GALACTIC ALLIANCE has finally returned to BRENTAAL IV to reclaim the world from the ruinous powers. Determined to put an end to the otherworldly threat once and for all, Cassius Callaesar leads his brave men and women into the MIST-BEYOND.​

​

As the assault fleet engages an unimaginable foe, the Alliance’s ground forces descend upon the capital, CORMOND, in a desperate attempt to gain a footing on the surface. Surrounded on all sides by chaosborne horrors, combatants from the Defense Force and New Jedi Order fight tirelessly to secure the city.​

​

Meanwhile, knowing an Alliance foothold in the star system could compromise their nefarious goals, the Champion of the Mist -- ABADDON -- gathers his power to destroy the planet outright, and the GALACTIC ALLIANCE’s last hope with it....​

​

Objective I - Unto the Breach

High Admiral Saul's sacrifice has allowed the remaining vessels of the Galactic Alliance's fleet to reach the rift and enter the wretched place from whence this great enemy has come. The assault fleet arrives in a formless plane of vibrant, shifting colours. After months of speculation as to what they might find on the other side, they finally come face-to-face with the true source of the devastation on Brentaal IV — a formless entity whose very existence appears to be beyond the scope of imagination and outside the grasp of space and time. A self-proclaimed god, confined to an otherworldly prison for untold millennia. With your starship(s) weapons equipped with the Alliance’s newest special project, push through powerful illusions and swarms of voidling terrors to destroy the heart of this shifting plane -- a massive crystal, suspended in powerful magick, which acts as the entity’s phylactery. Destroy this and the spirit’s demiplane will surely collapse, taking it with it.​

Objective II - The Only Thing They Fear

A driveby orbital deployment was the best the Galactic Alliance could muster under such extreme circumstances. Under the fading covering fire of distant capital ships, the Defense Force’s transports descend through the atmosphere of Brentaal IV en route to the ruined capital city, Cormond. For this mission, blasters and lightsabers have been equipped with experimental focus crystals that are supposed to be much more effective against the chaos-spawn plaguing the world. You must secure the capital to establish a foothold for the Alliance. There may even still be survivors -- resistance fighters and others who have managed to remain hidden.​

​

Objective III — A Terrible Fate [Limited]

Near the coastal city of Cormund, floating high above the Suporro Sea, the Champion of the Mist gathers his power to destroy Brentaal IV to thwart the Alliance’s assault on the Rift. A black hole has begun to form, pulling massive stones from the distant Gravaal Mountains and peeling chunks of the surrounding salt flats from the earth. Navigate these orbiting platforms to engage and distract Abaddon. The spirit’s control over him will become weaker as the fleet makes progress on the other side, draining him of his seemingly boundless power. Regardless, you must stop Abaddon’s plot by any means necessary.​

Spoiler: Tag Lists

Lakura Salim
Cerys gan Ymlerith Ithlinne
A'Sura Den
Tempest Yore
Corala Gethsverg
Adhira Chandra
Elayne Daklana
Westenra Mina
Lon Vondon
Rik Perris
Ordon Trozky
Faith Organa
Ava Cartwright-Pryce
Cambria Zadira
Constantine Oliva
Leon Gallo
Zahara Myneto
Kathryn Foster
Nathaniel Raxis
Jacen Nimdok

 

[Olen Halcorr]

​

Objective I - Unto the Breach
Location - The Rift, Brentaal IV, Bormea Sector
Unit - Twin Suns Squadron
Starfighter - Enhanced X-Wing
TAGS:
Cassius Callaesar Westenra Mina Kathryn Foster Tik Tik Marae Tavlar

Why'd they have to come back? The last time the Galactic Alliance had visited Brentaal IV, it had been in much less favourable conditions. But this was the price of being in the military. He shook himself awake with a start nearly falling out of his bunk as he hurriedly got his flight suit, flak vest, life support box, boots and gloves on, grabbing his helmet from the side table. He made a mad dash out of his room, heading through endless and winding corridors as even the ship's crew seemed to be mesmerised by what they were seeing. He bumped into a Gand naval officer who seemed to be on the same mad dash as him as action stations had been called by the Admiral.

Olen quickly entered the hangar of the Ouroboros, spotting that his X-Wing was surrounded by countless technicians. He'd heard rumours going around of some new technology being installed into all ships, and he was keen to properly get a feel for it. His astromech droid seemed to be threatening some of the hangar staff as they attempted to place him in the socket. Slowing to a stop by his wing, he gave a nod to the hangar technicians who handed him a datapad which detailed all the mods that had been made to his ship.

"We've been up to arms in installing this new tech, Commander Halcorr. Everything should be good to go for ya. Though.. I think your astromech isn't too keen on participating in operation, want us to memory wipe it?"

Olen gave a long sigh as Dewback came close to shocking one of the hangar staff. "No.. I'll speak to him." He'd always thought that droids were immune to nerves but he was currently proving himself wrong. Approaching his orange astromech cautiously, he gave a smile, as the droid allowed Olen to pat him on the head. Dewback gave many successive bleeps which showed that the droid was clearly distraught. "Everything's going to be fine buddy, I promise, nothing's going to happen to you or me, now come on, let the nice hangar staff get you in the socket, remember the oil bath I promised?" Seemingly responding to this, the astromech allowed the crew to put him in but not without the odd snipe.

His gut told him that whenever Dewback was stressed then something was seriously wrong, he'd had his doubts as soon as the transcript of the mission briefing had come in from Admiral Callaesar. Handing the datapad back to the techie, he sauntered over to his wing, placing a hand on the side. He moved around the ship, checking everything from his wing configuration to if they'd put one too many power converters. As soon as he was satisfied, he grabbed onto the yellow ladder, hauling himself into his wing, he took a deep breath to calm his own nerves, never had he been so anxious for his squadron and himself. This was something that had failed the first time, who was to say it wouldn't fail this time. He pulled down the cockpit just as the intercom went.

TWIN SUNS SQUADRON, PLEASE BEGIN TAKE OFF PROCEDURES. ALL PILOTS, YOU WILL BE BRIEFED EN ROUTE BY YOUR SQUADRON LEADERS, MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU.

He admitted to himself that he'd never been the strongest proponent for the mystical entity that the Jedi seemed to worship but he probably needed it now more than ever. Placing his painted helmet on his head, the did the straps as he always did and lowered the yellow visor, while simultaneously activating head comms. The pilot started to flick on the starter switches for his engines, configuring more systems as the countless displays and buttons in his cockpit started to come to life, flashing bright lights into his eyes which by now, he'd gotten mostly used to.

"This is Twin Suns Leader, three starts and a go, reactor output at full power over here." He called in.

"This is Five, three starts over here too Commander."

The rest of the squadron each called in their respective statuses to him and he felt satisfied as he gave the 'ok' hand to the hangar crew as the flight controller waved his sticks and he was green to go. He switched the configuration to his VTOL system as the X-Wing lifted up from its station.

He started up the throttle, easing the X-Wing out of the hangar as other Alliance craft started to launch, shuttles, X-Wings, Y-Wings, A-Wings, K-Wings and even E-Wings started to stream out of the hangar. Easing foward, he was soon confused as he was not greeted by the vast black expanse of open space but by the luminous glow emitted from the Rift. It enraptured him that this was where they'd be fighting an ancient evil that had emerged straight out of the cavernous depths of legend. This Abaddon figure must have been immensely powerful if even his superior officer, known to not fear anything, had his cautions. To do this they wouldn't just need experimental technology, but overwhelming bravery and courage. It was at times like these if he wondered if he was brave or plain stupid.

Bleeps came from the astromech socket and the translation appeared on his display. <"I don't like this Olen, I don't like this at all. We're all going to die here, I know it."> He seemed just a little annoyed and even frightened at his droid who usually had some witty retort to make. "You're scaring me buddy, I almost wish you'd be sarcastic again."

"All right Twin Suns, this is like nothing we've ever experienced before. Keep it tight and blast any of those nasties that move. Some of us will not make it back to the Ouroboros, but we all knew what we were doing when we signed up to fight for the Alliance, so stay strong and stick close to your wingmates. Two ( Kathryn Foster ) I want you to lead Renegade Flight, Three ( Westenra Mina ), I want you to move in and serve as my acting wingmate. Tik Tik , I want you leading Rogue Flight. Let's get going people."

<<Brothers and sisters of the Galactic Alliance -- we have reached the precipice and go now beyond the veil. I do not know what we will find, and I can’t say for certain that we’ll return. But if we are to go, let us not go gently. Let us fight. Not just for these people nor our own. Today we fight for the survival of all that we know. These fiends have come to destroy our worlds. They’ve made a terrible mistake>>

"Damn straight, Admiral, let's show em what happens when they mess with the GA." This impromptu pep talk had given him just that little boost of confidence that he'd been pretty lacking in. As the pulsing pull of the rift became ever more present as Twin Suns pushed on. That newfound confidence had pretty much eroded by the time he'd got close enough to slightly see the other side. Swirling colours of reds, greens, purples and the like all moving as a cohesive unit, which put fear into his heart. Mustering up some sort of courage, his pushed his throttle up to full power and kicked up the thrusters and pushed his stick into the great unknown..

Into the endless oblivion..

 

[Leon Gallo]

OBJECTIVE: A TERRIBLE FATE

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Even in the crowded drop ship, Leon heard only himself. Each breath, slow, in through the nose and out through the mouth. His shoulders rose and fell in time. His gloved hands clenched and spread in time too, the sound of his leather gloves tightening around themselves rhythmically following each breath. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, eager and afraid.

He had already opened himself to the force. There were so, so many. With each breath in, each beat of his heart, the Jedi could almost hear the screams of the restless souls, lost in the tragedy. He'd practiced this power only twice before this, once when he learned it in the Field of Blades. He knew he would be able to draw from their anger and sorrow, their pain and anguish. Their hate for the monsters that had killed them and so many of their loved ones. It wasn't very Jedi like, of course, but he needed to avenge them. Since the initial disaster, Leon had been waiting to avenge them. Any thing to stop this from happening elsewhere.

Memories of the last time he'd been to Brentaal still haunted him. He had spent most of the evacuation in an apartment complex, saving hundreds of people. But there were so many more that he hadn't saved. He had seen a figure dueling with Ryv, the Sword of the Jedi, though he'd learned of the two's identities afterwards. Leon knew that monster was behind this. More memories flashed in his mind--of families, broken and crying. New orphans, lost and wandering, unable to understand why their parents weren't there. Leon's hands curled into tight fists as he breathed out hard. He would kill Abaddon, even if he fell too.

 

[Constantine Oliva]

Objective 1- Unto the Breach
Cassius Callaesar Olen Halcorr
________________________________________________________________________________________________

Constantine had no clue what to expect. He was nervous, though he refused to show it to his crew. This was what he'd been promoted to Commodore to do, and he'd sworn the High Admiral Callaesar that he'd see it through. But even with his pride on the line, the anxiety had refused to leave. The stories he'd heard echoed in his mind as his line traveled through hyperspace. His battle line had been equipped with the new weaponry before their commander had even laid eyes on any of their ships. The Hawk spent a week above Anaxes just being refitted with the weaponry. Commodore Oliva hoped he'd be able to keep his line together to fight whatever came at them.

Constantine had been communicating with his captains on the approach to something he could barely describe. It seemed to be a hole in reality to him. The order came from Callaesar to move into it, and so the line moved. Hawk's sensors died quickly, leaving Constantine even more nervous than before. While he refused to show it, he was visibly paler now, and beads of sweat formed on his brow. The commodore swallowed hard, then gave an order to his line.

"Keep moving. Make sure your gunners are ready for anything, and your helmsmen need to be ready to move at a moment's notice. I have no idea what is in there, but we're going in blind. We can't afford any mistakes "

The transmission to his captains complete, the 30 ships moved forward, and their captains relayed orders to the crew. Constantine watched as an enormous shape emerged. The monster burst worth, moving directly through the fleet. Constantine gasped in fear and surprise as it tore through a frigate with ease, and moved even the massive Ouroborus aside. For a moment, he was thankful for his line being on the edge of the fleet. A shout brought his attention back to the cloud. Dozens of similar, but smaller monstrosities were moving forward. more shouting ensued as the Commodore struggled to maintain his crew's cohesion. He shouted for an order to be put out for all his ships.

"I want all of your to maintain constant comms contact with the rest of the line. Every five minutes transmit a status report and contact the rest of the line immediately if something happens."

His attention was caught by the Providence ramming the great beast, and firing point blank into it. A handful of cheers broke out among the crew, seeing the beast injured. Constantine did not cheer. He could see where it was going: to Brentaal IV. The cheers abruptly cut off as the Providence crashed into the planet, bringing the monster with it. Oliva knew what had been done, and the opportunity present by the sacrifice. He stared somberly as the guns of his line opened fire, at anything not made of metal, at this point. He was surprised when the visage of High admiral Callaesar came burst into view.

​

<<Brothers and sisters of the Galactic Alliance -- we have reached the precipice and go now beyond the veil. I do not know what we will find, and I can’t say for certain that we’ll return. But if we are to go, let us not go gently. Let us fight. Not just for these people nor our own. Today we fight for the survival of all that we know. These fiends have come to destroy our worlds. They’ve made a terrible mistake.>>​

This was it. This was the battle that Constantine knew would either save or doom the Galaxy.

"You heard the High Admiral, send these bastards back to hell"

 

[Trevin Neros]

Objective II - The Only Thing They Fear
Location: Brentaal IV - Cormond
Team: Nova Fireteam Din Marren Camo Orerig ( Any ground forces please join! )

Drave and Lilst were unusually quiet as the transport descended to the capital city, Cormond. The three of them were not exactly sure what to expect as all the prior skirmishes had happened while they were in Ranger School. Of course, they had heard rumors and tall tales come from those around them. How giant monsters ran rampant and that the Galactic Alliance had no way to fight them. Horror stories of how they were being trained just to be sent out and be used as cannon fodder against the abominations of the planet. Trevin knew better than that. The monsters are not what made them cannon fodder, they always were and always would be, this was just the newest scapegoat.

"How you feeling about this new ammo, Sarge?" Drave inquired and broke the silence as the shuttle drew closer to its destination. Trevin wished he had a window to peer through so that he could see what they were getting into, but, he figured that would only serve to make him more anxious.

"Whatever kills the enemy," He said matter of factly as he reached into his mag pouch and pulled out a magazine with a oddly colored aura to it. All of their ammunition had been replaced and, to be honest, he felt a bit odd with that. No real training had been sent out to them so they were completely unaware of how it would fire in their weapons. "Let's just hope it doesn't blow us up. I would hate for you not to make it back to home to both of your wives."

Trevin snickered and Drave gave a hearty chuckle to that. Lilst just kept staring forward, which was not unusual, he was a good soldier but he did not get as hyped up as Trevin and Drave did. He feared death a lot more than the two of them did and Trevin did not blame him for that. Not everyone had a death wish, after all.

An announcement flashed over their comms and broke up the laughter.

<<Brothers and sisters of the Galactic Alliance -- we have reached the precipice and go now beyond the veil. I do not know what we will find, and I can’t say for certain that we’ll return. But if we are to go, let us not go gently. Let us fight. Not just for these people nor our own. Today we fight for the survival of all that we know. These fiends have come to destroy our worlds. They’ve made a terrible mistake>>

"I wonder who writes those speeches for him?" Drave said as he rolled his eyes.

"Prolly sum brown nosin Lieutenant tryna make Major."Lilst finally broke his silence never missing an opportunity to insult someone higher up than him.

"What are you boys talking about? The honorable Admiral speaks from the HEART!" Trevin exaggerated a salute to the Admiral who could not see him and a few of the men on the transport laughed. "Who cares what the brass up there says, boys. They don't understand what we go through same as we don't understand what they go through. At least if something goes wrong with us down there we can gasp for air as blood fills our lungs. They just explode." It was an odd comparison but it did seem to sing true to the men. The comforting notion of having a few last breaths and maybe a few words seemed.... exciting? Well, in comparison to being blown up in space.

"Landing in ten seconds."

Trevin shot up and he double checked his gun as the men on his transport all got ready. If they weren't nervous before, they sure as hell were now, and Trevin felt himself begin to smile. As the door to the transport was beginning to open he pulled his helmet over his head and engaged the HUD.

The sound from outside hit his ears with staggering effect. Screams, guttural sounds, and chaos all hit him at once. Flames from burning buildings and the scrambling of other soldiers who had landed before him. He turned the safety off of his weapon and he was the first man running down the ramp knowing full well that Drave and Lilst were right behind him. His eyes widened as he, for the first time, laid eyes on the fiends that they were here to fight. They were larger than he expected and they were in greater numbers. "Nova team, we get to the rendezvous point with the Commandos, or we die trying!" He pulled the trigger on his carbine for the first time as one of the fiends charged in their direction and it landed true but it barely stopped him. "Well, shit."

He held down the trigger until about five blaster shots took it down. Well, they were certainly going to need a load of ammo to survive this. His helmet indicated a target trying to flank and he turned on his heel and fired into the second fiend. It went on like that for what felt like an eternity. Drave, Lilst, and Trevin slowly pushing forward and keeping tight formation. Rangers all around them were dropping like flies but they kept pushing forward. That was the Ranger way. Never stop moving forward. Complete the objective at all costs. Trevin ran behind a large piece of debris that had fallen from one of the building and crouched behind it, using it as a chance to catch his breath and reload. He tapped his HUD and noted that the rendezvous point was relatively close.

A powerful crash erupted from behind them as something grabbed the back of Trevin and sent him flying in the opposite direction. He landed roughly on the ground and before he could say or even think he felt something grab him by his shoulders and flip him over. Standing over him was one of the fiends and it let out a blood curdling screech directly in his face, getting bits of spittle on his helmet. Trevin grabbed his Nastirci combat knife and shoved it into the jaw of the beast and hit the shockwave button. In a jarring explosion the shockwave blasted the fiends head completely off and also disoriented Trevin a bit.

He felt arms under his that lifted him to his feet and felt his rifle shoved into his hands. "Keep moving forward." He said without acknowledging how badass it was to blow that things head off. The only downside to that weapon was that it only had one charge which meant he had already wasted it.

 

[Jacen Nimdok]

Objective III: A Terrible Fate​

Wielding: Valenthyne Farfalla’s lightsaber (modified with experimental crystal)

OOC: While I will be posting with Nimdok’s sub account, in this thread I am operating as Nimdok’s alter ego, Casimir Heliobas.

***​

For one who called himself a Jedi Master, Casimir Heliobas’ grasp of the Force was incredibly limited. He could not move objects with telekinesis, communicate telepathically, or call up the Light to aid him. Indeed, he could only affect himself—and he could change his Force signature so that other Force users would not recognize him. A useful trick for a shapeshifter.

Any other Force users participating on the ground would not recognize him as Nimdok, if indeed they had met Nimdok either at the Anaxes Station or during the Netherworld mission. They would see only Heliobas, the rather sketchy Jedi who had attempted to get into the Imperium’s good graces, only to disappear suddenly while the Alliance was being reborn.

Now he had returned, but there was an air of foreboding hanging over him as he sat in the crowded drop ship on its way past Cormond. The city had long since emptied of the living, the survivors of the attack fleeing the planet. Now there were only mutated chaos-spawn and perhaps the occasional resistance fighter hiding out in the ruins.

Heliobas hadn’t been there during the initial assault on Brentaal IV. While it was happening, he was preoccupied in the Outer Rim. Observing the destruction below, he emanated an eerie calm, as if he were standing in the eye of a storm. He was not going to be down there fighting monsters. Instead, he was going to face some sort of chaos entity calling itself a god that had formed a black hole over the coast. This was the first time he had seen combat of such a sort, but he was not going to let it frighten him. As always, he had a job to do—and he would do it no matter the cost to himself.

Leon Gallo

 

[Oceiros Sunstrider]

// SUNSTRIDER //
// OBJECTIVE // A Terrible Fate
// FOCUS // Republic Engineering (Arcanus Sunstrider)
// THEME // Darkest Night

5 Months Ago

It came in the blink of an eye. What had been a peaceful, content life sundered in a single evening. A sky that was once painted with hues of pinks and purples had turned crimson. There were so many things to feel when they came. The force itself seemed to pull back on itself, releasing an ethereal screech of agony as it was bent to the will of another. Twisted, contorted, the force was never meant to be used in such a way, yet had found itself pervaded by another.

Collapsing to his knees Oceiros could feel the disturbance as the veil of reality was split, ungodly creatures and manifestations pouring into the material plane. The loss of life, something that couldn’t be quantified in words. Such an event hadn’t been felt or witnessed since the shattering of Corellia. Perspiration retreated down the man’s face as everything he knew was coming to a cataclysmic end.

Oceiros’ very being was set alight with a flame that sought to consume him. Death, pain, malevolence ruled the world of Brentaal as the spawn from beyond staked their claim. The Epicanthix's lungs burned, his heart ached, his very core wanting to tear itself free to no longer feel, to withdraw.

How had Arcanus done it? To stand in the face of such things as a Jedi? Crawling through his home, Oceiros couldn’t find the strength to stand. His body wouldn’t let him, what strength it tried to muster was immediately sapped. Forced to pull himself with his arms, the epicanthix slid across the tile floor to a nearby closet.

Within held the only legacy that the Sunstriders had left, sometimes devoted to the greatest of their family. As the doors to the closet opened a bag fell from above landing near Oceiros. Spilling out were two objects that called to him. A silver hilt, and a cube-like device. The cube thrummed with power, thrummed with a familiar presence.

The cube called to Oceiros, it offered warmth, protection, comfort. Seizing the holocron Oceiros’ felt the pain that once plagued him slowly peeling away. The aura of light pooling around and shielding the epicanthix. A strength welled up within the fair-skinned man’s being, granting him the will to rise. The will to fight on.

Present

For months Oceiros had survived on this hellscape. Survived the trials of fire and damnation that sought to engulf him. There were others like him. Those who’d managed to survive the attack on Cormond and had never given up. Who continued to fight despite the overwhelming odds. It was more than fighting for survival, it was more than fighting for revenge. No they fought for the ones they loved, for those who would follow, they fought for it was right. When there were those who sought to subjugate and destroy what had been build by others you had two choices. You either let them do as they please and take your spot kneeling in the dirt. Or you rise.

Standing at the edge of the abyss, Oceiros looked up across the multiple platforms leading forward. In one hand he bore that silver hilt. It thrummed with life, it thrummed with the power of a great Jedi that came before. In his other the holocron.

Oceiros wasn’t like Arcanus, he wasn’t born to be a Jedi. He wasn’t the one meant for greater things in life. He wasn’t some grand star, a pillar of light in a galaxy fraught with darkness. He was nothing more than an heir to a legacy and even that did not matter on this day. If the Sunstrider legacy was to die with him, then it would in a battle for the fate of Brentaal and those that inhabited it.

Taking his first step forward Oceiros looked upwards and onwards. “I hope you’re watching, I'm going to need you more than ever.”

 

[Zahara Myneto]

Location: ASV "Liberator", Destoyer Group IV, Mist-Beyond
Command: Admiral Lord Zahara Myneto of Balmorra
Tags (Fighter Pilots): Olen Halcorr , Westenra Mina , Kathryn Foster Tik Tik Marae Tavlar Cassius Callaesar Constantine Oliva

Zahara held his breath as the Providence broke from the lines, smashing it's ramming prow into the large monster directly ahead of it. Cheers filled the comm lines as joy overtook the crews but then the dreadnought fell into the atmosphere of Brentaal IV, spewing fire and fury from its smelted metal.

"What do we do now?" The once happy crew turned to Solomon and despair. And as High Admiral Pryce's message played to the fleet, Zahara could feel hope fill his body once more.

"We rain Hell on high. Charge"

 

[Westenra Mina]

Wearing: Piloting Catsuit

Armed with: Bloodsign (Red Core, Pink Aura Double Bladed Lightsaber)

Bloodmarker (Red Core, Pink Aura Single Bladed Lightsaber)

Flying: Bloodstone (Space Superiority X-Wing)

Current Configuration: Lana Layne (See Bio)

Objective: Fight alongside Olen Halcorr (Or: KILL THE BEYOND WITH FETHING SPACE LASERS)


Since this copy of Westenra had joined the Alliance Navy with the background of a Force Sensitive Ace Pilot, she found she had settled into navy life quite excellently. There was order. Stability. She ate, trained, kept to herself. Few asked why they never saw her at the mess hall.

Of course, that didn't change the fact she was an Android Vampire.

Every few days she needed to feed. Non-Lethally of course, and only psychic energy. But she still had to feed.

A lot of ensigns and even a few officers had gotten paid a visit in the middle of the night in their quarters, paralyzed and fed on, their wounds treated to leave no trace of a vampire attack. It had been this way for weeks. Feedings were scattered, sporadic. Never in the same area. She knew she would have to find a means to keep psychic energy on storage, and soon, or Alliance Military would become suspicious of people waking up with memory loss as a semi-regular occurance. You could only explain it away as stress for so long before someone started a more thorough medical investigation.

For now though, she was happy.

She didn't keep up on events...there was literally so much going on in this Galaxy that Westenra was sure people were anonymously putting down an evil god in some other corner of it.

Of course, it was a testament to how awesome 'this' particular galaxy was that when a horrific, evil god from beyond did show itself, the solution was lasers.

Lots of lasers.

Westenra left her bare, sparse quarters, clad in her skintight bronze colored piloting catsuit, that had the Alliance Starbird symbol printed faintly on her chest, along with all necessary life support and survival gear, her gold and Glasteel lightsabers dangling from a belt on her hip as she walked, her unsettling, glowing pink eyes with glowing pink, lightning shaped blood veins making people avert their stare as the creature with a too perfect walk glided past soldiers rushing to their stations. The techs had finished modding her Starfighter, now painted a deep crimson with her squad position--007-emblazoned in black in the side. Her ship's decal, a ruby dripping blood surrounded by a ring of strange clouds was at the tip of her Starfighter.

Westenra had been slowly getting to know her vessel since Chandrila. She had already custom preferences, tweaking what system got the most power. They were nearly done upgrading it with the weird crystals, loading her brand new Astromech onto it--she had been forced to destroy her old one and claim it malfunctioned after it had accidentally recorded evidence of her vampirism. She had not made the same mistake with her prior one and immediately jailbroken its system, reprogramming it for unswerving loyalty. She couldn't decide on a name. Tony? Bruce? Steve? (She was rather fond of the name 'Steve' for the Astromech droid, which was only natural, considering she was a Wonder Woman Expy much of the time elsewhere in the GA. On the other hand, this also serves as a Steve Rogers reference, so I have violated none of my standards...technically...screw it...500 XP)

Westenra walked up to it, feeling the hull of her Starfighter and saw one of the techs installing the crystal.

"Excuse me? May I see those?" She inquired.

The tech let her examine a crystal.

Her X-Ray mode scanned it and saw...something...the Force maybe.

She reached out to touch it.

Her flesh wriggled disgustingly in front of the horrified Tech, who slowly backed right the feth away as the psychic energy that powered her body interacted with the energy of the crystal, the crystal drawing the skin under her suit like a magnet to it and smothering it, a charge interacting between flesh and crystal for a few seconds before she tore her hand away from it, flesh going back to normal under the suit.

Her database analyzed the feedback she was getting, programming her cells with new data...

She could touch it, only faintly. Life connected to every living creature in a faint web. She could not fully perceive it.

But her body had translated it into something useful all the same...

(Plasmid Acquisition Theme Plays)

(Westenra gained new Psychic Powers!)

Power: PSYCHIC TETHER

Spoiler

Westenra can siphon off excess psy-energy into simulating a Jedi Battlemeld, resulting in improved Squad reflexes and greater ability to think through adrenaline or its equivalent.

Westenra turned her glowing gaze to the scared techs looking at her, deathly silent.

She covered expertly.

"I never met a pretty rock my hand didn't want to feel."

One of the techs threw up his lunch in a nearby waste receptacle. The other, deeply frightened techs finished installing the upgrade and Westenra hopped in, doing checks and then starting the vessel.

"007 to Commander, three starts and a go on Reactor." She signalled back, taking off and flying close when he requested her as his acting wingmate.

The veil beyond was full of strange colors. The Android felt the stirrings of real fear. But she hid it.

"Leave it to the Navy to figure out how to kill an evil god with lasers..." she joked over the comms to Olen.

 

[Aeris]

Brentaal IV // Suporro Sea
Objective III - A Terrible Fate
Ryv Leon Gallo Jacen Nimdok Oceiros Sunstrider


Defiant vermin.

Their vessels cross the reach, rallying to face their own annihilation under a delusion of hope. They throw their lives away, so desperate to draw out their final moments; clinging to their pathetic sense of self.

They waste our time. They fuel our anger.

This delay is an insult and we shall suffer none more.

Standing atop a massive chunk of salt rock suspended high above the thrashing Suporro sea, Abaddon holds his arms out wide. Emerald fires lick outward from the eye sockets of his jagged armour, while verdant tendrils of crackling energy stretch forward to disappear beyond the event horizon of the building void.

Despite his focus, the presence of those approaching is not lost to him. Commanded through silent authority, the Force betrays them. He can feel their eyes on him -- and their fears behind them. A guttural groan echoes from the warrior's barbed helm.

Destroy them, Abaddon.​

His armoured gauntlets creak as they fold into tight fists. They would waste his time. They would fuel his anger. But not for long.

 

[Auteme]

F A T E
A Aeris Charlie Nooran Leon Gallo Jacen Nimdok Oceiros Sunstrider Ryv ​

This was probably the scariest thing she'd ever done, and one time she'd had an overdue library book.

Yeah.

Auteme, like the other Jedi aboard the transport, was a little nervous. The last excursion to Brentaal hadn't exactly been a good one for the Galactic Alliance. After the initial attack, Auteme had gone to Anaxes Station to help the survivors and find her friends. Loske was there, Auteme met Maynard and Leon for the first time, and then she'd learned that Ryv was supposedly dead. That was the first time. It didn't last long. The second time had been worse for her.

But it hadn't entirely been her fight then. The padawan's eyes stayed on the Sword of the Jedi, who sat on the other side of the transport. He'd grown, but was he ready to face Abaddon again? She couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling anymore. It worried her, because in the end all she wanted was for the other Jedi to be safe and happy. Everything happening here, today, was definitely going to be a step away from that goal.

Could they even beat Abaddon? He, as an entity, was something beyond what Auteme understood. The Alliance was doing their best and had equipped their weapons and ships with what upgrades they could muster to defeat the chaos spawn that now roamed Brentaal IV. Still, these were beings of the Force. What could they do against that cosmic power?

Leon seemed to have hardened his resolve to defeat Abaddon, yet Auteme could sense the turmoil and anger he felt. If he was imbalanced and distracted he could die. Then again, who was she to know what to do in a battle? Everyone on board the ship was more experienced and skilled than her. She didn't even know why she'd come. She could heal and support and maybe she'd find something that could help, but if Abaddon so chose it'd likely be simple work for him to kill her on the spot.

Charlie, on the other hand, was clearly eager for a fight. Auteme didn't know how to feel about that. It wasn't the Jedi way to be belligerent, yet in this case there was little chance of true peace. They stood for order, just as Abaddon brought chaos. Auteme worried for Charlie. If she was too eager, to quick to fight, it would cause problems in the future. Today there was no other choice than to fight, but Auteme would never feel excited about fighting someone. It always felt wrong.

Yet the Force yearned for balance. The agents of order clashed against the herald of chaos; a light flared in the darkness, trying to take hold on Brentaal. There was so much darkness in the galaxy and there always had been, yet she wasn't sure that today they would be able to balance it all.

Auteme pressed her hands together and closed her eyes. Air filled her lungs and flowed through her body, just as the Force brought her energy. Every time she had surrendered herself to the Force in the past, it had shown her the strength that she needed to overcome the dangers that lay ahead. It was so certain and so constant that Auteme was comfortable in trusting it. But recently her view of the Force had changed; it did not just flow through and around her, she was the Force. And if she was uncertain, nervous, worried, would she have the strength to overcome the danger that lay ahead?

She inhaled deeply once more, her breath steadying her nerves as she whispered to herself.

"As I will."

The warmth in her chest grew; her light shone a little brighter. For she was there, and the Force with her, and nothing else mattered.

 

[Camo Orerig]

Objective II // The Only Thing They Fear
Location // Brentaal IV - Cormond
Din Marren Trevin Neros @Anyone else

Camo rubbed his right thigh, the damage sustained in the depths of the Star Destroyer on Foerost haunting him, especially in the face of the task that awaited them. He wondered if it was the fact he was heading into the unknown again that caused the flare up or was it the fact that his enemies on this mission would once again be evil abominations forged in hate, either way he didn't like it.

He shifted the pain out of his mind, examining his modified weaponry, only time would tell whether they would work as planned, and how fragile the technology was, it didn't help Camo's sense of unease that they had no definitive proof that the weapons would work, and if that really was the case then they were heading to their doom. He didn't really have anything to live for so to speak, and he'd always been prepared to die in the line of duty but still, it was an unsettling thought that they may depart the shuttles with little more than a white flag if the technology failed.

The announcement played through the shuttle, a supposed heart rendering, emotion pulsating speech to raise spirits and form a steely grit inside the Defence Force's units. Camo was sure that it would have had that effect on some of his accompaniment, it would also have annoyed others, causing deragatory quips to be fired back, in Camo though, and many others he was sure, it impressed the seriousness of the situation. This was it, there was no retreat, it ended here today, one way or another Brentaal IV would entwine itself into the history of the GA, whether it would be a good entry or a bad one would be decided in the next few hours.

Camo returned to checking out his modified arsenal, he carried more than usual, it had been a conscious decision, if he ended up stuck somewhere extraction wasn't a simple comms message away, in reality extraction didn't exist unless the battle above them went well, and Camo was damned if he was going to be caught with his pants down running low on anything, his movement would be restricted, but not a massive amount and it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

"Landing in ten seconds"

The announcement snapped him out of his thoughts, his grip tightened, his eyes narrowed and his senses seemed to intensify, the countdown ended and the shuttle ramp hit the floor, the inhabitants of the shuttle emptied, welcoming them was a chorus of shrieks, blaster fire and explosions. It was chaos, some soldiers broke ranks straight away, no amount of initial intelligence had readied them for this welcoming party, Camo cracked his neck as he left the shuttle and got to work straight away, firing a volley of shots to the nearest fiends, success came with some, not with others, it seemed the monsters were affected differently, "wonderful" uttered Camo sarcastically as he moved towards their pre-determined meet-up point.

The battlefield was frantic. The GA soldiers did their best to follow orders and use their superior training and organisation to their advantage, but they could only do so much in the face of such adversity. Camo found cover behind what would once have been a rather impressive structure, now it was nothing but rubble, his eyes scanned the area, looking for a path through the mayhem, it was at that moment his eyes locked onto Trevin Neros , a man he had served with on a number of occasions, he was sometimes a little eccentric with his methods, but he nearly always delivered. This time he had been floored by one of the beasts, as Camo aimed at the beast to help him out he watched the man literally blow the creatures head off, it wouldn't have surprised Camo if he had allowed himself to get in that situation purely for that moment, he let out a low whistle of appreciation and made his way over to the group of Rangers.

"That was impressive, even for you Neros" he laughed as Drave and Lilst helped him back to his feet, "Fancy a tag-along fella's?"

 

[Cynthia Alucard]

Cynthia Alucard, Lieutenant
Objective II: The Only Thing They Fear
Location: Cormond, Capital City
Actions: Landed, In Search of Survivors/Resistance Fighters

Spoiler: Equipment:

REC/STA-02 Advanced Shocktrooper Armour; Series Two
REC-DC/03 "Viperwasp" - Pattern Modular Particle Blaster Rifle
REC-VKN/01 "Tekko" - Pattern Vibroknuckler
REC-EFP/01 "Lawgiver" - Pattern Maser Pistol

Cyn carefully adjusted her weapon to hang properly from her shoulder, even as her transport rattled as it descended to the planet’s surface, her nerves hadn’t settled since her mission briefing. Being fearless was different than being certain, even when she was a TIE Pilot Cyn was confident in both her TIE’s abilities and her own to assure she always made it back alive.

This place though?

The Alliance demanded a foothold on Cormond, the Capital City laid in ruins, and Cyn was certain she was walking into a hellzone. With what is happening with the breach, hellzone is a rather apt comparison. Her shuttle shook once more before finally landing, with the ramps lowering she moved forward, her boots crunching across debris. Her eyes scanned across the cityscape, ruin wasn’t even a word heavy enough to describe it.

Cyn remembered being on this planet under a different banner from much long ago. And here I am again, under a different banner.

Blasters and explosions were heard, along with distant snarls and growls. Cyn snapped back to focus as she quietly kept low to the ground and kept her footsteps light. Her mission was something different from the main forces, tasked to find a high priority target located deeper within the destroyed capital. Rather an unfortunate trek for her, but Cyn had little choice in her mission selection for the time being.

Survivors and other resistance fighters had proven themselves capable in the recent intelligence reports, and a certain group was perhaps too capable. It was up to Cyn to provide new information on this small group of fighters and to seek out anything different to how they fought against the terrors of the netherworld. Far be it from her superior to suggest anything heretical, a word Cyn had never thought she'd ever use in a military operation, but yet she was here deep within enemy territory.

Against beings of such terror and fear inducing presence, how we survived with these things crashing against our reality.

Cyn never prayed, not to anyone or anything, but today she prayed to the Engineers of the Republic Engineering Corps that their improvements to her weapons worked.

Her hands kept a tight hold on her blaster rifle, the HUD displayed a rather long and tangled route, with a heavy sigh Cyn began to move quickly. Careful not to attract any chaos-spawns, and to avoid any of the larger engagements, Cyn moved with purpose and silent as any shadow.

Camo Orerig | Din Marren | Trevin Neros

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Objective 1 - Unto the Breach // Brentaal IV //
Saber Squadron // X-Wing //
Maynard Treicolt // Cassius Callaesar // Olen Halcorr // Constantine Oliva // Westenra Mina
RUBBLE KINGS​

“I don’t know if I can do this. Go back.” Saber Three admitted into the cloth of Loske’s flight suit. She’d stopped shaking by now and was limp in the arms of the XO with shuddery exhales. It had been like this for a few minutes, after the conclusion of the briefing. During the mission directive, Three had looked uneasy and blank through the last third of the Admiral’s instructions. Such expressive vacancy had not gone unnoticed, and before the third Saber could make it into the hangar Loske’d intercepted to peel her from the course. She’d offered her embrace to the keshian woman before, and would do it again before they lurched into the fray. “I thought I could… but going back...I don’t know if I can. I thought I could, but then I thought about last time..I just..”

“You can.” The blonde interrupted, pulling back from the hug and keeping her hands on the other woman’s shoulders. She searched the expression of the keshian and found only a flicker of the confidence she was looking for. The captain’s lips drew in a thin line, cocking her head after appraising the other pilot.

“Last time I..I thought I was over it. Over Seven, but..what if it’s the same thing again.” Her voice was thin, and she averted the eyes of the kiffar, rotating her helmet in her hands anxiously.

“It won’t be. It’s going to be different.” Loske negotiated, reaching to put a hand on the slender shoulder of the other pilot. “You’ve done so much between now and then. That has to be a stepping stone, not a barrier. Seven would have wanted you to get this chance for closure. For you to show your resilience and retribution.”

It was an eventual agreement between the two pilots, but they parted with a final reinforcing embrace. Even if it was stunted by the rapidness required by their deployment. Three was equipped with a focus to not make the same mistakes as before, no matter how familiar the scene there would be no retakes. This time was going to be different.

All around them, scattered scenes of good-bye were taking place. Some were serious, some kidding, all with the true emotion of the moment masked by efficiency. By now, it was a well-practiced and almost amusing routine; to have emotion truncated by necessity. There was a balance to be respected when delivering the goodbyes before departing. She, Ryv and Maynard had a more soulful and long-lasting version the day before –– as much as she wanted to keep her clutches on her friends, that true proximity of closeness and touch, anything like that would give too much somberness to their mission and make the reality of mortality too real. Not that her personal feelings would override the heavy reality of duty and showmanship as a second-in-command for her squadmates.
It occurred to her what they were about to attempt. But when she slid into the accelerator seat of her ship, she was no longer allowed to be an individual, functioning solely to satisfy her personal needs. Something now bound them to each and every man and woman in the cockpit. Something beyond comms or battlemeld –– purpose.

Looking to her right, it was a blended bid of farewell and good luck only seconds before she pulled her helmet down on her head. Flashing a toothsome grin in the Saber leader’s direction with easy eyes; a relaxedness she didn’t truly feel. He’d know. Intense emotions tended to communicate louder than others through their ethereal tether and any facial expression would do that truth no justice.

The final preparatory call from flight control boomed over the hangar's speakers, giving urgency to the squadrons. The fleet needed more eyes on the void. The collection of X-Wings would be the vanguard rather than their dependency on sensors.

With a knowing look, Loske made final eye contact with Saber-1 before they both agreed to redirect their attentions to the final routine and the overhead canopy hissed to close.

This time was going to be different. There would be no recreation of the latter events. Maynard would not torch his X-Wing, and Ryv would not be left behind.

The smear of stars and galactic dust yawned ahead of them, bathing the noses of their fighters in ruby light. Usually space was so dark. Thrusting alongside her wingmates en route to the orphic ring torn through the atmosphere, Frank collected and returned back to the main fleet everything that surrounded them. The network of astromechs constantly maintaining binary chatter for the short-range communications so the fleet wasn’t entirely blind.

She was almost disappointed by the perceivable calmness beyond the portal. A short-lived confidence. The silence was interrupted by Frank’s panicked warning to bank starboard, and peel the squadron away from an incoming giant.

<Keep safe but keep visibility for the fleet!> The XO grimaced, tearing from her path. All the while, Frank comm’d back to ASV Ouroboros. Everything else happened so quickly, a decision made in an instant and the metal taste of primal fear filled her mouth while all the little starfighters watched helplessly as the greater dreadnought pierced through a monster of greater size.

The sacrificial exhibit of Admiral Saul put a pit in her belly that threatened her panglossian attitude. Her body felt numb and heavy, and for a moment her X-Wing did nothing but drift. Thoughts were broken by the High Admiral’s voice intruding over the channels.

<<Brothers and sisters of the Galactic Alliance -- we have reached the precipice and go now beyond the veil. I do not know what we will find, and I can’t say for certain that we’ll return. But if we are to go, let us not go gently. Let us fight. Not just for these people nor our own. Today we fight for the survival of all that we know. These fiends have come to destroy our worlds. They’ve made a terrible mistake.>>

The Sabers were the first of the squadrons through the tear in reality.

Loske threw the stick hard to port and pushed it forward as they snapped through the portal. <Saber Three, break up. Stat!> She trusted the pilot from earlier would follow her down to the right, which cleared the way for the rest of the squadron to enter the portal. <Lock S-foils into attack position.> That command never failed to give her goosebumps.

Vibrant visions pulsed around the darkened outlines of enemy creatures. The visions of hell beclouded in brilliant spirals, plumes and shapes of whimsy that curled and stretched in an unholy way.

Frank shrieked urgently at her. The leviathan had been but one obstacle, major though it was. Swarming terrors greeted them with open jaws, swimming through unseen cosmic currents. She glanced at her screens, barely trusting them more than her naked eye at this point. Through the transition, her Primary Display Monitor’s readouts bled into a static mess of tactical conditions; but a collection of red dots was flashing indicatively. Her targeting readout glowing.

This time was going to be different.

<Frank, I need a mood boost.>

On command, the droid modified the volume levels of the comms and replaced the cockpit’s white noise with something more upbeat for the pilot to concentrate to. Rhythm and The Force would take over now.

Her target indicator flashed with a lock, and she maintained her trajectory to the epicenter. Successive bursts of lasers cored through the organic enemy, fleshy bits littering the glowing miasma around them. When her ship crossed through where the monster had been, remnants of blood and innards smeared the exterior of her starfighter rather than the usual metal debris.

The short range communications were working as more and more ships crossed through the portal, the channels alive with fire reports. Loske couldn’t make sense of the babble, but as the clash of surprised voices started to die out she could hear the comms reporting back a swell of energy up ahead; powerful enough for all the sensors to realize it.

This time was going to be different. For better or worse.

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

​

// OUTRIDER //: Saber-1, Saber Leader | Saber Squadron
// OBJECTIVE //: Unto the Breach
// FOCUS //: Loske Treicolt | Cassius Callaesar | Olen Halcorr | Constantine Oliva | Westenra Mina
X-Wing | Flight Suit | Pistol | Lightsaber

​

O U T R I D E R
B L A C K _ H O L E _ S U N

That lone walk through the hangar-bay was a familiar tonal echo of his footsteps along the metallic floor beneath. It was time to go back. He'd long accepted that, the trip back with his closest confidants in his better half Loske Treicolt and his brother Ryv made it all the more of an easier task to embark on. The setting was far too solemn for Maynard. And he was far too familiar with it. It was a similar shade of forlorn as the Anaxsi vessel that ushered them from Brentaal after the first excursion had brought about.

None of that mattered right now, it was time to get to work.

"Hey try not to get shot down this time, ey Treicolt?" Saber-6 sounded out to the Concordian as he climbed unto the ladder leading to the canopy of his Saber-class. He let off a breathless laugh before he settled into the cockpit, pulling his black synthleather gloves from the dashboard where he'd set his pilot helmet, the crest of the Journeymen Protectors of Concord Dawn facing him.

"Maybe if you'd actually cover my ass I wouldn't have to worry about that too much, six." Maynard says in retort to the Dathomiri pilot who offers a good hearted laugh before climbing into her own ship, that smile evening out quickly when the weight of the mission came down again in the personal silence.

"Well we leave your ass clear because you're not supposed to need us covering you all the time, farm boy." Another Saber sounded out in return to Treicolt. Saber-4, a hot shot Correllian pilot ace, a hold over from the Green Jedi Order who'd gone with the motions and joined the Galactic Alliance alongside the rest of the Correllian assets. However begrudging they seemed to be.

"I guess I'll just return the favor then if that's how we wanna play it." And just like that he could feel the rural inflection from Concord Dawn bleed into his speech again even if only slightly as he jokingly replied to the man.

"Haha- yeah uh-...don't actually." The Correllian Jedi dubbed simply 'Green' if only for his origins and the patterning displayed out on his helmet and fighter replied out to his superior before he began the start up process all the same.

<Not sure I like the feeling of going back...ya know, given I was 'trashcanned' last time we were in this spot.> The BB unit nestled in the back of the X-Wing sounded out to his companion in a series of level headed binary beeps.

<"Yeah...me neither but...the hell else are we supposed to do?"> Maynard asked in return before he laced his fingers through the strands of hair that obscured his forehead back before slowly sliding the pilot helmet over his head, the HUD projected over the orange visor beginning to glow in sync with the X-Wing's as he heard the low rumble of the ion engines igniting behind him. Glancing to his right his eyes seemed to instantly meet her's. Loske. She nodded once to him with a look of reassurance and he could only offer the same in return before their view of the other was obscured by the lowering canopy and the atmospheric hiss sounded out as it finally closed down.

Glancing to his multi-color display left of the main targeting computer he could see the rest of the Sabers light up in line. It was time.

Without the need to get an audible clock in of all the wings on Saber given they'd disembarked from the same carrier, Maynard opted for something a touch more personal.

<"Alright...we're headed through the maw of hell. I can't explain to you what we'll encounter there, I can't reassure to any of you that we'll make it out or that we'll accomplish our objective. But we're Jedi, we're not going to shy away from our mission. We do not turn in the face of evil because we know what's gotta be done. People are counting on us...everyone is counting on us. All we have is ourselves in there, make everything count. And last of all...may the force be with us."> Saber-1 sounded out in confidence through the Saber Squadron comms as they went forward. Forward unto the breach. Now wasn't the time to be anxious, nervous, afraid. Now was the time to execute. As much as he felt the call of the void, the pull of those dark feelings of anger and forlorn pull at his subconscious. He remembered the sentiment of a good friend, Lanik Dawnstar . Whatever doubt he had himself he need only remember.

“You have all the strength you need.”

Loske beat him to the Squadron wide command to press the attack. It was time to work now. The hydraulic yawn of the S-foils sounded out as they pried apart into attack formation.

<"Four!- Break left!"> He sounded out to his own wingman as he released his finger from the trim button to take full control of the starfighter. Slamming the stick to the right he turned the X-Wing out of the trajectory of a hell beast as it coursed violently toward him only for another to be painted with a bright red in his targeting computer, squeezing his finger down on the trigger to release the cracking volley of blaster cannons in the direction of the void beast.

The ethereal distortion of the void had made a great deal of the onboard systems rendered useless. But as Lanik said, he didn't need to rely himself all too much on them. Not when he had the Force. And when he allowed that to be his tether of control, his focus was too often relayed to Loske as he began to settle into their intangible bond as he often made an attempt to in his moments of great distress. At least now, she was more or less at his side or at the very least within open eye sight as they pressed onward.

Into the void.

 

[Cassius Callaesar]

Netherworld // Chaos // Unknown Demiplane
ASV Ouroboros // Bridge
Objective: I - Unto the Breach
Allies: Olen Halcorr Constantine Oliva Zahara Myneto
Westenra Mina Loske Treicolt Maynard Treicolt

Somewhere in the bowels of the Mist-Beyond, in the abyssal depths known by some as Chaos, the Alliance's vessels had emerged. Frigid air washes over the command deck as the Ouroboros materializes on the opposite side of the veil. A sharp chill races up Cassius' spine and spreads across his shoulders, forcing a gasp. The sudden shock brought by freezing air entering his lungs is almost enough to make him choke, but he muscles through the reflexive urge.

When his breath does finally escape him, a visible cloud dissipates in front of his face. The Light did not touch this cold, desolate place.

"Primary sensor systems are still offline, Sir."

The Anaxsi is barely able to look away from the viewports to acknowledge the station's status report. All around them were hypnotic dancing colours; vibrant pinks and purples mixed with fiery hues of red and yellow. It was captivating. Beautiful, even. Yet, despite this calm description, it filled the High Admiral with incredible unease.

They were being watched.

Not from anywhere in particular, but it was fact. Somehow, he knew. He could feel it -- the miasma of colours staring back at him.

Cassius could feel its hatred.

"Power to shields and defensive batteries. Switch our ion engines to drift and keep your eyes peeled on the horizon," he continues to stare forward into the abyss, heart racing, "Divide our squadrons; have them form a defensive position to fight off the hellspawn as others scout the surroundings. There's gotta be something in here that we can hit, we just have to find it."

"You look, and yet you cannot see. Your simple minds are incapable of comprehending our magnitude."​

The voice, resounding and authoritative, is heard and understood by all within the demiplane.

"It would seem the ignorance of your kind is just as our abhorrence for you: Eternal. You come here to fight back? To save your precious reality. Here, in this wretched prison built to contain our wrath, we are reality. We see, hear and feel all within. Your thoughts betray you; even your Force betrays you. We sense the terror that you feel right now -- your welling anger as we continue to speak. In some, we even taste a foul and misguided ambition. There is no hope for you here. Only us.

You have made it this far. Farther than most. But, we will not humour your pride any longer.

This is the end."
​

The internal lights of the Ouroboros begin to flicker, along with those of many other vessels within the Alliance's fleet. From the vibrant smog surrounding the starships form millions of glowing eyes. Hysterical laughter begins to echoe from everywhere and nowhere at once, overlayed with a deafening chorus of indecipherable whispers.

Cassius throws his hands to the sides of his head, covering his ears to block the hideous laughter and maddening chants. His jaw tightens when it has no effect on the volume at all. His breath shakes, but he fights off the unnatural urge to scream.

"Fire defensive batteries!" he barely musters through grit teeth.

With a flush red face, tears welling in his eyes and his teeth grinding as he fights against the mental barrage, the weapons officer somehow manages to submit the widespread order for all batteries of the Star Defender to open fire on the anomalies.

 

[Gat Tambor]

// GAT "SSD" TAMBOR //
// OBJECTIVE //: Skako | I brought my own!
// FOCUS //: No one!

---

---

---

Y U N G _ S K A K O
H O M E C O M I N G

It was good to be home. Skako. This clogged methane filled ecumenopolis would've been utterly putrid and literally, biologically intolerable to any other race but to Gat Tambor, it was beautiful. Even if he was...well he was not too widely trusted, nor liked in his native homeworld.

But he came with a particular purpose. He wished to travel to the Clouds of Cormelish, to consulte with the Great Elders atop the Power Mounds and read his fate from the Book of the Boolmide. The Galaxy was entrenched in a periless turmoil and whether Gat intended it or not, he had been at its epicenter. He wasn't too prideful to admit he required guidance again.

"Gat Tambor of the Clan Crimlin...you appear before the Power Mounds after quite a long excursion into the outside realms...we have not seen you here for sometime and yet still, we hear your name from far and wide...why is you return now when you have everything you could ever require elsewhere?" One of the Elder's piped up to Gat, speaking with a voice nigh ethereal to the Skakoan industrialist.

"I seek...guidance." Gat admitted.

"Oh? I had thought you would not be as humble now as you were when you first left us...what troubles you?" The Elder inquired.

 

[Din Marren]

Brentaal IV // Cormund City
Objective: II - The Only Thing They Fear
Equipment: See bio. (Assets)
Complement: Trevin Neros Cynthia Alucard Camo Orerig

They'd just barely made it.

With klaxons blaring, the commando's LR/FA shuttle had dug a trench through a street. They'd narrowly missed a direct collision with the crumble husk of a skyscraper after taking a hit to one of their primary engines on the descent. By now, Din felt all too familiar with dynamic entries. He was at least thankful he got to stay in the shuttle for this one.

<"We can't keep this up,"> the croaky voice of Lark states with considerable frustration as he collapses back behind the cover of a smoking metal heap, the barrel of his chainblaster red hot. The three man fire team and a few surviving Marines had been pinned down at the crash site since impact, unable to escape the droves.

<"We have to,"> Dare hollers back, popping up from what had once been the starboard wing to thwart the advance of a hulking beast with several squeezes of his trigger. Ghostly blue bolts streak from the weapon's barrel, ripping through the creature's tangled flesh with an ear-piercing hiss.

A sudden downward gust of wind lifts the dirt and ash from the street and briefly clears the smoke billowing from the transport. Glancing up and expecting to see another shuttle, Din's eyes widen as a massive, six-winged centipede creature arcs through the air to begin a nosedive toward their position with its razor-like mandibles stretched wide.

Without time to process exactly what he's looking at, the Caridan tosses himself from the debris and grabs the pauldron of an unsuspecting Marine next to him, <"Clear the area! Clear the area now!">

Realizing what's about to happen, the commandos and few remaining marines spring from safety and dash out into the open street. The monster lets out a wretched screech as swoops down, picking up a sizeable chunk of the LR/FA in its jaws and pulling it back up into the thick layer of mist permeating the air, beyond the line of sight.

The team forms up close, doing their best to maintain 360 degrees of fire as they move to the side of the street. Misshapen bodies pour into view from every angle, but are quickly put down by their special weaponry.

<"Got some cover here! Quick!"> a marine calls out, spotting the sunken stairwell of a sub-basement townhouse. The six armour-clad figures swiftly drop in and assume covering positions along the concrete ledge.

<<This is Ryyk-1 to all nearby Alliance channels. Ryyk Squad is pinned down with survivors from Fyrnock Squad. We need reinforcements. All primary sensors are still offline; utilize dedicated energy receptors to pinpoint our coordinates. Repeat: Ryyk Squad & Fyrnock Squad requesting reinforcements,>> Din turns his head to his left, looking to Pop as they fire bursts into the fog. Their blank T-visors stare expressionless and wordlessly at eachother.

The silence said enough

 

[Rik Perris]

​

// SCRAPS // : Saber-10 | Saber Squadron
// OBJECTIVE // : Unto The Breach
// TAGS //: Loske Treicolt // Maynard Treicolt // Westenra Mina // Olen Halcorr // Cassius Callaesar // Constantine Oliva
// EQUIPMENT //: X - Wing // Standard Padawan Lightsaber

He hadn't been on Brentaal IV when it all went to hell, but he was going into that hell, all the same. He tried to remember what his late master taught him so many years prior, about facing down fear, about the knot in his stomach, as they threw nervous chatter, said their goodbyes, or in some cases didn't, out of superstition or the like, and climbed into their X-wings. Andrik, though Corellian, didn't have it in him to throw jabs as Four and Six did; he was too wrapped up in the sheer intensity of his present reality. His eighteenth year was turning out to be quite the doozy.

"It's real this time, Jenks," he said, slipping the helm over his head, and buckling in, the HUD coming on, "You ready?"

:: It has always been real, Scraps... and I am always ready. ::

Andrik grimaced at Jenks' straightforward answer. The BB unit would grasp nuance, someday, but this train of thought was stationed, as the engines of the X-Wing rumbled to life and Saber-1 gave them his own last few words over the comms, as they rolled out. There were no lies, no softening of reality, but the reaffirming of their mission as Jedi, first, eased the pit in his core somewhat; his focus sharpening as the XO gave the command to get on the attack, the X-Wing's s-foils hinging open, just in time for him to bank hard and away in tandem with his own winger, as a prodigiously huge beast careened through, seeming to go squarely after the C.O.

Frak, that thing is massive! I don't think Torch would believe this. Don't think Corrah would, either....

He tore his gaze away from the voidspawn as it passed, to look to the fore, the void which birthed it disorienting... more for his systems than for him, the lessons of his earlier years as a younger padawan enabling him to still focus. The eyes could deceive, but there was no deception here, as he thumbed the trigger and laid into the next, much smaller thing that came his way, his heart pounding....

 

[Ryv]

// Objective // A Terrible Fate //
// Location // Brentaal IV // Suporo Sea //
// Focus // A Aeris // Loske Treicolt // Maynard Treicolt //
// Leon Gallo // Jacen Nimdok // Oceiros Sunstrider // Auteme //

​

Seated opposite Auteme in the lone dropship racing towards Abaddon's location, Ryv brushed the cold metallic surface of a small holodevice with his thumb. His mind remained locked on the device, the simple trick kept it away from more troubling thoughts, like his last bout with pandemonium's grand champion. Abaddon not only defeated Ryv, but he also humiliated the Kiffar. Just a Padawan at the time, the Sword of the Jedi could barely stand in the monster's presence. None of his attacks made even a dent in the creature's defensive, Ryv's many efforts met with apathetic boredom. He'd known defeat a dozen times over, experiencing it practically his whole life, but not on the scale of Brentaal IV. His many losses hadn't resulted in billions of lost lives before, nor had it sapped away the memories of the encounter. Yet, whenever Ryv tried to summon forth the battle, he felt empty, as if someone removed it from its place.

He looked across the transport, his attention pausing on Auteme. If ever there was a moment for everything he'd done wrong to appear before him, Brentaal IV had to be it. Nothing went right, even when Ryv's fingers bled from endless exertion, bone practically splintering as he worked tirelessly to bring about some change. She once inspired him, a soft light he could rely on, now distant, far beyond his reach. Things were simpler when the Kiffar could spend his weekends cooped up in a room, Auteme beside him, eyes glued to whatever book she found throughout the week. Things like Muunilist didn't happen when they called Peace home. What happened? When did it all change? Why did he walk away from the only stability he'd ever known?

Ryv's gaze eventually drifted past her, passing over the others gathered together to challenge the titan. He'd hoped Maynard or Loske would be in the shuttle with them, given the extensive history he shared with each of them. Together, Ryv and Maynard took on the Sith, fighting shoulder to shoulder through the streets of Muunilist, delivering death unto the servants of Sith-Imperial tyranny. The Kiffar hadn't known a more reliable connection in the heat of battle than Maynard. Not unlike her better half, Loske stood head and shoulders above other Jedi when it came to the Kiffar and his many bonds. Ryv's trust and reliance on her went way back, further than anyone else he now called friends or family. They served the Grayson Imperium, fought for the Core Alliance, and crafted the Galactic Alliance, drawn together by the elusive Cedric Grayson, their former master, and friend. There wasn't another person in the galaxy Ryv trusted more than Loske. Without either of them? He felt exposed. Even sharing the small ship with others, a sense of isolation fell over him. He wasn't strong enough to face Abaddon. He likely never would be. But did it matter anymore?

"ETA two minutes!" the pilot's voice sounded from the cockpit, warning the gathered Jedi of the approaching dropzone. So few ships could be spared during the attack, they couldn't even hope for another pass. "You'll get one shot! I'm only slowing down enough to give you time to gauge your jump. After that, I'm gone until you call for evac. Good luck out there!" he peered over his shoulder, giving the gathered Jedi a thumbs up before looking back to the distant dot.

"Alright, everyone, focus up!" Ryv pushed himself to his feet and looked to the waiting ramp. He crossed the cabin, taking a deep breath along the way, before coming to a stop at the top. While it hadn't opened yet, the Jedi Knight could vividly imagine the heavily armored titan awaiting them. The world already bowed to his will, the galaxy's destruction taking shape before the Galactic Alliance's forces. His fingers flexed, slowly balled into fists, knuckles whitening from the endless tension. He didn't bother to track the time, nor did he look to the others gathered around him. Ryv's hand fell to the Blade of Ruusan, where he freed the lightsaber hilt and held on tight to the masterfully crafted device. The ramp soon descended, a stream of wind crashing against them all, their hair blew back, loose articles of clothing whipping about rapidly. He took a deep breath.

And jumped.