Invasion Rage Awakened (TSE Invasion of NIO Held Bastion & PL-40112-CE-021105)

[Ragnar the Blooded]

Location: Ravelin, Bastion
Equipment: Saberstaff, Imperial Knight Armour
Proximity: Iasha Rha , Kolson Vrask , Noel Strasza , Kesran Opadal
Engaging: Alina Tremiru

As the bolt flew on for the rear of the Sith, Ragnar's left hand tightened on his saberstaff. Plenty of life had been taken with it that day. In some ways, he imagined his fallen parents were happy. Even if the blood it spilled was in opposition to the Sith and their beliefs, blood was blood. No matter the color, no matter who it belonged to, it was the life force of most beings in the known galaxy.

The bolt was deflected into the street, it's lethal energy batted away abruptly. A voice had yelled out, one that he had barely heard, but he it sounded to be from the direction of the crash. Survivors? If he had been unsure before as to her allegiance, it had been confirmed now. Ragnar could feel the Sith's eyes on him, his lips curving upwards into the faintest of grins. His attention was rapt, the warnings of the Force useless. It spoke of the coming fight, of which he had been seeking all night.

And had finally found.

She moved.

Orange orbs were wrenched away from where she had stood, her obstruction of the ship behind her gone and he scrutinized it for a moment.

Imbued with the senses of the Force, Ragnar quickly found her soaring the air towards him. She was fast, as was typical for users of the Force. Ragnar was unperturbed, and when she closed in on him, the bottom end of his saberstaff leapt up to bat the blow that would cleave him in half away. Joined by his right hand on the staff, both closer to the opposite blade emitters, his left brought the bottom up in a clockwise manner, the right shoving downwards for added force and momentum.

As she was not grounded, her aerial momentum was to be used against her, shifting his body to the side while rotating the staff. Inconsequential to most of their ilk as acrobatic users of the Force, her reunion with the street was like to not be as ceremonious as she'd like. Dropping his right hand from the staff and twisting to face her, this time he didn't need to take a moment to aim. Jerking his right hand forwards in her direction, the vambrace spat to life again, in place of the wrist laser, the flamethrower burst to life. Belching out the intense heat to bathe the Sith in its hateful flames.

 

[Alina Tremiru]

Iasha Rha | Luna Terrik | UX-0626 | Kesran Opadal | Dimitri Voltura | Kolson Vrask | Ragnar the Untested (Engaging) | Noel Strasza

This was an enemy. Someone who needed to be struck down. Immediately. She didn't need to be able to sense the Force to know he could use it. By his eyes, he used the Dark. Was he one of the traitorous Sith? Or something else? These were the thoughts that the young Acolyte should of been thinking about. And that grin of his? She should of at least been angry about it.

Instead, her lips matched his grin with her own.

The rage and hate she felt fueled her actions and strength, but she had been looking forward to this sort of fight since the war of Dantooine. The pain from the crash, the anger at her fallen ally's fates. Dwarfed by the pure excitement coursing through her veins. The leap had allowed her to close in and put all her weight and speed behind her strike, but it did little for defense. No place to anchor herself, no place to dodge to. It's why she hadn't planned to land in front of him.

Twisting her body in the air wasn't something so easily done. It required strength and practice. Something she was quite used to by now. She tightened her core and forced the movement just as the opposite blade to the one hers was deflected by was brought down. She could feel the heat as the blade barely passed above her face. In the past, this would have absolutely terrified her. Now? It only fueled that enjoyment more. Her landing wasn't as graceful as it could of been. That last second twist threw off all of her balance, so she had to land in a roll.

One that she continued as she felt the heat of a flamethrower erupt. This time she wasn't so lucky as to fully dodge it. When she did stop her roll she could feel the burning. Her robe was on fire. The skin below likely burned from the pain she could feel. She ripped the cloak from her shoulder, tearing the flaming cloth to throw at Ragnar. No, she didn't expect it to actually do anything, but it'd be enough to cover where she was for a moment.

Getting close to her opponent was the true purpose of the jump. Not to strike him down, but because her truest strength didn't reach that far. The Force deadened around her. Around him. She reached out with that unstable connection she had to suppress the Force within him. She wouldn't be able to cut him off completely, that'd take all her focus. But enough to make it hard to hear the Force if her will was strong enough to. With that and the burning cloak as cover she brought out the Minos pistol strapped to her waist. Three quick shots through the cloth. She was certainly blind to where Ragnos was. She couldn't sense others to begin with, but she had a rough enough location and enough skill with the gun to aim where she last saw him.

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

Lord-Major Erskine Barran
1st Galidraani-Volunteers Armoured-Infantry Brigade,"Tal's Devils"
2nd Battalion,"Blue-Hearts"
New Imperial Order

LOCATION: Fort Imperator

ALLIES: Willan Tal Zakaria Black Enedina Tal Vostok Grauv Djorn Bline
Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Tyrell Paxxus Creuat Kolson Vrask Meko Sorrin FN-999 Halketh Noel Strasza

<"SHUGG TO CC ONE!!! IF YOU CAN'T HEAR THOSE SHELLS FROM INSIDE, CARLAC'S TANKS ARE STILL FIRING!!!!">

<"MYLES TO BLUE-HEART BRAVO!!!! OUR BARRELS ARE TURNING ORANGE AS WE SPEAK, GET THE INFANTRY BACK UP HERE!!!!">

<"DON'T CARE, MYLES!!! UNLEASH EVERYTHING!!!! UNDERSTAND?!?!?! EVERYTHING!!!! BLUE-HEART BRAVO OUT!!!">

As the night pondered on, the onslaught of enemy transport ships were putting all the tanks in the area to the test, and every crew involved were working harder than they had ever worked in their entire careers. Carlac's more-numerous contingent were somehow able to maintain the constant rate-of-fire without any regard to the overheating-risks involved, and Major Barran was adamant in his desire to find out why. Turning to Karelin, Erskine chapped the armour with his knuckle again, furrowing his brow as he asked,'Karelin! You've got long-distance optics in that helmet, dae ye no?'. Seeing the affirmative nod in response, the Lord-Major pointed back toward the fort's outer-gate, furrowing his brow again and turning his gaze in Carlac's general direction as he grumbled,'Zero in on those allied tanks up there, then tell me what you see.'

'Yessir..... Hot to cold, hot to cold-'

'-Ah know what they're doing.... I should've known Carlac would have his own tricks to bring to the party. Cheeky chappy, is he no?', the Lord-Major began, reaching for his comms device and readying a laser-transmitted relay to his allies with his brow furrowed once more. Framing his inquiry perfectly, Barran didn't intend on dawdling with his prying, so he aimed the fog-intensified glow right at the center or Carlac's formation and growled,'Barran to Avalanche! I'd be careful with that CARBONITE if I were you, though I'm genuinely surprised you hadn't burned your way through it by the time you started firing on those airships.'

<"Carlac to Blue-Heart Alpha! This isn't our first sustained rate-of-fire, stand by for usage-instructions. Avalanche out!">

After putting Carlac's instructions into action, the Blue-Hearts realised they only had enough Carbonite to distribute to the center of their static line, and just enough to keep a sustained-volley for five minutes at best; realizing they had no other choice but to expend it wildly earlier, Barran's Cataphract-crews made their peace with the fact it was an,"Us or the Sith-spawn", circumstance that dictated the depletion of their Carbonite ammunition. None in the Brigade had the luxury or the gift to just will the Sith-spawn dead with their minds, so they had no choice but to let self-preservation take the helm at the time; and yet, it would end up working in their favour regardless, as the only turrets overheating were those in the center of the formation, having been the focal point of the Sith-spawn hordes' most-recent attacks.

The Carbonite missiles had fortunately been brought out quickly, then siphoned for all the raw materials within to dispense on every turret-barrel that turned red-hot in the process, and all were set, primed and ready just in time for another wave of enemy personnel-carrier ships to test method on. Leftenant Miles, the appointed commander of the Cataphract crews, was still untrusting of this method, crossing his fingers and praying to the patron saints of Galidraan's outer dominions that his barrel wouldn't warp or shatter under the constant contrast in temperature extremes. Having no idea of what was going on with the tanks up behind them, Myles had no choice but to trust his Lord-Major's judgement and proceed as required, knowing how unbearably hot the inside of his tank was about to become over the next five minutes.

Sweeping cloud, smoke and fog aside as they descended at a mild incline, the enemy transports were approaching fast; screening the approach of an overgrown transport that seemed to double-up it's purposes as a bomber/ground-attacker, a formidable sight that would've shaken the hearts of the outer-gate's defenders, had it not been for the carbonite they siphoned to have their Cataphract crews fire on all cylinders. As with all the enemy transport ships before, both tank contingents could easily adjust their aim and turret-inclines to cover greater range-averages with each new wave of inbound airships, so Barran would continue exploiting the winning formula until there were none to implement it on.
The big wan won't be so easy ti down, though. He's a brawny laddie, so he'll be needing the AT treatment!

'Barran to CC One! You have your targets, now unleash the AT horrors for us if ye can.'

<"Myles to Blue-Heart Alpha! Copy that, I hope you enjoy being indebted long after your death, Milord. CC One out!">

Within the space of thirty seconds, the destruction unleashed on the skies was nothing short of jaw-dropping for all the observers in the area, with Carlac's crews being able to get most of the first shots off as they cracked and roared over the Blue-Hearts' heads again. Gazing on, as the combined impacts of the two tank contingents' AT barrages lit the skies in a way that had not yet been seen by the Blue-Hearts' or Carlac's tank-crews, Lord Erskine dared not look away in such a moment, for the sheer scale of the tanks' effectiveness was creating a moment of beauty in her most-frightening form. And yet, adding additional violence to the encounter was the overgrown transport/bomber craft's decision to burst through the falling husks of the planes that guarded it's approach. Believing the turrets would be slow to slide downwards, the airship dipped to fly as low as it could whilst turning off eastward; a desperate evasive-maneuvre that would prove fatal for the Sith-aligned pilot and all the ship's passengers, as it exposed the thinner-plating of the airship's soft underbelly.

Engines would fail, wings would vanish under the pressure, flames and debris would come billowing from the already-descending wreckage of what may have been the most troubling challenge for the tanks in the area. It would be a long time before their tanks or rockets could wreak such havoc again, and everyone who'd fired a shot in anger at the oversized airship could do little to deny that fact; even with the things that some of the older Blue-Hearts had seen, the hardest-faced among them had to admit they'd never wrought such annihilation before. Almost completely convinced the barrage's explosive results would be visible in every corner of Ravelin, Major Barran couldn't help but wonder what such an image would conjure in the minds of the Sith-affiliated forces; whether it would be fear, dismay, grief, Erskine knew it would have an effect on the enemy, one way or another.

'Let's get you back to Vostok, shall we? Once we get you back, we'll have to roll our tanks behind the safety of Imperator's walls. Ye ready, lad?'
​

​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DIE BY THE BLADE」​

The opposing saber that plunged through the door came only inches from his face. Violet strands that hung over his face fizzled as they were singed by the radiating heat. Zaavik stumbled backward in surprise, nearly planting his ass into the floor. Several clumsy stumbles cantered quickly along the ground before he caught his balance. He straightened, moving to square himself with the door.

A sigh laden with slight feelings of defeat exhaled toward the blue saber. "Have it your way."

Zaavik reignited once side of his saber, the green blade extending with a screech. He reached out to the force, focusing on Aradia's presence on the other side of the door. There would only be a moment before he'd cut through, so he had to make this count. A vague outline of her stance shimmered into his minds eye and he lined it up with door in front of him. Taking care to avoid her saber, he took a step forward and performed a two-handed thrust, sending his blade through the door as well, aimed at her shoulder.

 

[Ripley Kühn]

:// POST I | ABOARD THE PROSPERITY //:
:// ALLIES: GA | NIO | Ryv //:
:// ENEMIES: TSE | CIS //:
:// EQUIPMENT: ARMOR | LIGHTSABER //:​

The offer was one that sent her mind reeling. It wasn’t so much a surprise, as it seemed the only natural progression of things. Her instincts told her to run, away from the implications of what a commitment meant. Away from the fact that if she actually had him, she could lose him.

“I…”

Ripley’s head turned to look out of the tunnel, where the stars were blurs. Ryv was right; there was never going to be a perfect moment to make this decision. With the war raging on, and both of them carrying their own responsibilities, there was no end in sight for an ideal life. Whatever moments they had shared, despite how small they seemed in the broader scope of things, had brought her comfort and happiness. If things went awry for him on the battlefield, the loss of that wouldn’t be any lighter despite the lack of definition they’d had.

She turned to study him once more. Amber eyes met her, patiently awaiting her answer. Before she could speak, the alarm rang out across the bridge. The lights above them flickered. The engines roared, a sound that was deafening.

“Systems are malfunctioning” Arcanus stated. “Power levels…”

The master’s words faded away as her gaze remained desperately planted on the kiffar. So badly she wanted to say what she hadn’t been able to. To tell him how much he meant to her, to tell him she wanted to try. Yet whatever emergency was happening took priority. They had to get to Bastion. No crisis could be allowed to delay them further. She took a step back, letting him assume command, awaiting any orders.

​

 

[Asmundr Varobalder]

PROSPERITY’S PROTECTOR | THERE IS NO CHAOS, THERE IS HARMONY
THE NEW JEDI ORDER | ABOARD PROSPERITY
OXBOW B

​

"Hey, Master Varobalder, I'm gonna leave Prosperity under your care. After what happened on Korriban, I don't think it's fair to bring you onto the battlefield if you're gonna link us all together like that. Keep in close contact with Saber-Squadron in case the Sith or Confederates focus too heavily on us. And like I said to Master Sunstrider, do not risk the temple for us. This place is a repository of knowledge that will outlive all of us if we're smart about it."

"It feels weird issuing orders to you, Master. I'm sorry if it seems like I'm stepping out of line, but thank you. Without you, I'm not sure I'd manage."

A low, rumbling chuckle emitted from the mountain of a man and he placed a massive mitt on Ryv’s shoulder to offer physical reassurance.

“My place is always purposed to support, Knight Karis.” He offered as if it would ease the apprehension of giving orders to someone significantly more senior.

​

The Force was fraught with tension. The conflict below was burdensome to his awareness, and he closed his physical eyes –– seeing only with the vision blessed on him by the supernatural. He felt alarm, tension, death moments before the lights aboard the magnificent vessel began to flicker and a cacophonous symphony of klaxons sounded. “......Not possible.”

"ALERT! ENEMY PERSONNEL DISCOVERED IN ENGINEERING. ALL AVAILABLE SECURITY TEAMS RESPOND. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. REPEAT. THIS IS NOT A DRILL..."

An invasion in his home, threatening the lives of his students.

Asmundr was not a precious man, not attached, but he was heavy with wholesome purpose.

“You both continue with your plan, to your starfighters.” He opened his eyes, finally, a weary line stretching his mouth. “Prosperity is under my care.” The line was an echo to continue reinforcing Karis’ instruction as worthy and non-offensive.

He moved with purpose now, though still slow. It took a lot of effort to move a mountain. In response to the threat, the ship’s intelligence activated to isolate the environmental support in engineering. With life forms associated with the New Jedi Order already compromised, a call was made through the network to decrease pressure and eliminate the gravity in that sector. Life support would be extinguished in that facility, the oxygen released and circulated out and gravity would fail to exist.

Amy remaining Jedi were encouraged via the mighty Vikings telepathic entanglement to remain steadfast in their originally plotted positions and vacate the lower levels.

If he could offboard most of the responsibility to slow and detain the threat, he could continue his focus linking the valiant Jedi of Alliance.

The Force's existence was limited around this intruder. Curdled and spoiled, clouding her ability to perceive. His sight revealed an unnaturalness about her, different from many of his pupils and more akin to the crew of the magnificent orbital temple. Still, he could sense her, and that was enough. With the thinnest edge of the wedge, he continued to make his way down to engineering while brushing against her synthetic psyche.

Please, His ethereal tone, though deep, did nothing to betray the emotion he felt in response to the slain protectors at the hands of this inorganic cretin. He probed further to establish telepathic dialogue with the android until he could reach her in person. The connection was tenuous and unnatural. Like a fishing string rather than a spiderweb. Stand down. This ship is not meant for violence –– it is for learning. So help me learn –– Who are you? What is your purpose here?

BATTLMELD: INACTIVE​

ALLIES | NJO | NIO | Ryv | Ripley Kühn | Maynard Treicolt | Loske Treicolt | Okkeus Dainlei | Krau Rook | Rurik Fel
ENEMIES | TSE | ENGAGING: Laertia Io

 

[Anden Fancelo]

Bastion
Allies: NIO | GA | Willan Tal | Zakaria Black | Djorn Bline | Noel Strasza | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Creuat | Tyrell Paxxus | Kolson Vrask | DECEASED Erskine Barran | FN-999 | Meko Sorrin | Vostok Grauv | Gideon Raith
Enemies: TSE | CIS | Lirka Ka

[THEME]
​

SECTOR 7 - Edge of the Fortress

The heavy footsteps of Imperial Army units proceeding through a hallway echoed throughout the building. A team of soldiers moving through the halls and another team focused on clearing the rooms that could potentially have enemy contacts. Verbal signals were communicated through commlink, to preserve some measure of discretion. While the buildings were completely evacuated, one would never know what would be within. And given that it was the Sith Empire they were facing, it could be anything and that was the terror behind it all.

Once the final hall was cleared, there was just a stairwell going up, to which Besh approached, blasters trained on the steps. Within the war-like ambiance, two crescendoing shots were heard above, syncopating with the ambiance.

Anden held his fist up, signaling the team to hold. Some took a knee, others kept still. But all blasters have pointed ahead. Anden reached over his comm device and spoke into it quietly.

"Sergeant, possible contacts on the roof. Besh is moving up to engage and eliminate."

He raised his least dominant hand once more after the transmission. Waving towards the staircase, to which two soldiers advanced upward, combat awareness at a high. The rest followed. The pointman of Besh stopped by the door, his hand hovering over the panel to slide it open. The stairwell got quiet for a moment before those pair of shots were made again. Confirmation.

"Breach." He signaled.

The door slid open and the Imperial Soldiers filed out in a rush. What was discovered to be on the roof were a pair of Legionnaire Snipers, one had a fair amount of cunning as he pulled his sidearm and attempted to fire at the advancing soldiers. Only to be quickly gunned down by 3 or so of the team, almost overkill if that individual did not don the armor he wore. The slow one, however, was struck on the leg. Only to be met with the butt of a rifle to his face. And the roof was cleared, the building was deemed safe and Overwatch Point Nexus was secured. The Team Leader motioned over towards the roof's edge.

"Form a perimeter and pull security. Get eyes on 1-1 and 1-3." Anden ordered, taking a knee and scanning the sector for the remainder of the platoon.

Aurek, who was tasked to pull security within the building dragged the unconscious Legionnaire back inside, just as the Sergeant came along. Giving a soft pat over on Anden's shoulder.

"Good shit Fancelo, I'll be sure to send my report over to Bline ASAP when this is over."

The Sergeant was met with a nod from the former Gravewalker. The soldier turned his head back to continue surveillance on the area. None of the squads were present, and some shots were sounding off in the distance. The gaze under his helmet narrowed and he went to his commlink, tuning it to a different frequency.

"Avala 1-3, this is Avala 1-2 Besh, what's your status? We're already on the Overwatch Point where are you? Over."

The silence on his left earphone struck a nerve to Anden. The suspense taking over the Sergeant as well, prompting him to listen in.

"I got a visual on 1-1! No visual on 1-3 though!" A soldier reported, waving the squad on the duracrete road over. Avala 1-1 seemed to be moving along the building, a turn over to the light show that 1-3 potentially could be in.

A query was produced by Anden. "Sarge, 1-1 is moving to investigate on that block?"

"That's an affirm Fancelo." The Sergeant answered.

As the tension rose on 1-1's end when they neared the bright conflict, static arose on comms. Causing some of the soldiers to wince a bit at the ringing feedback. And a transmission was hastily made.

"Avala 1, this is Avala 1-3 we took out Opfor but we're engaged by some spiked sith! Need backu- wha? Wait wait NO NO N-" The transmission was cut off prematurely. A hint of 1-3's fate. Which only prompted 1-1 to move in through the alley to get to that block.

A mistake, going through a chokepoint to face an enemy that is so effective at close range. A slaughter was near.

 

[Arminius]

S W O R N S W O R D

BASTION
ALLIES: NIO | IMPERIAL KNIGHTS
ENEMIES: SITH | TSE | CIS
EQUIPMENT: LIGHTSABER | VOULGE | ARMOR


YEARS AGO
​

Szandra Ur looked upon her son. His deep blue porcelain eyes, his short black wavey hair. Imperial Knights were coming to collect the young man. Szandra did not have the heart to tell her son they would never see each other again. Instead, she wanted to enjoy these last moments with her only child. Tears streamed from her eyes as the boy looked at her in confusion.

"But I don't want to go mom." his voice pleaded. "I want to stay here with you."

"You must go my son, they will come and take if you don't, as they once took me. " She replied, smiling despite being heartbroken. "But you will become a great warrior of the light in time, and a champion of the people."

The boy looked back up at her wearing an expression of sadness and confusion. "Father's friends say I have to be protected, and they don't even use my real name!" His voice was defiant, he even stamped his feet as he spoke.

"It does not matter what name they come to know you by. Your actions will be what defines you." She took her son's hands. "And you will always be Szabirok to me."

The boy erupted into tears, and the mother quickly wrapped her son in her arms, trying to comfort him. Soon they came, clad in robes and red armor. Among the Imperial Knights was a Jedi, who gestured to the others to give the two a few more moments. Finally, the mother released her son from her embrace, who with great uncertainty turned to meet the men who would take him to be trained in the ways of the force. Smiling, an Imperial Knight extended an arm to shake the young man's hand.

"Tell me, lad, what is your name?" He asked.

The boy took the knight's hand but glanced back at his mother, who only gave an assuring nod. "My name..."

TODAY
​

"This is Arminius!" The Knight-Master shouted in the comms. "I'm in the residential sector, civilians at risk of falling under fire from enemy forces!"

Sith troopers rushed down the street, blaster rifles ready to fire. Arminius did not have time to wait for support or command HQ. Instead, the knight-master would need to act alone. The Imperial people were counting on him. Behind Arminius was an intersection to a causeway being used to evacuate civilians. In front of him, a squad of Sith troopers looking to seize the intersection. In his mind collateral damage, even a single civilian casualty was one too many.

Arminius, drawing upon the force itself, lept into the middle of the fray of Sith Troopers. His armored figured landed on one soldier, smashing him into the street. One soldier was sent flying back by the 'shoe' of the polearm smashing into his chest. Another bashed to the ground by a cross-check to the man's side, breaking his arm in the process. Blaster rifle raised, one almost managed to get off a shot. Arminius using the length of the voulge manage to nick the Sith Trooper's wrist with the blade of the polearm. Wailing in pain, the Sith trooper let his weapon fall to the ground. Next to it was his severed hand.

The smell of ozone, the sounds blaster shots ringing off in the distance, the cries of men wounded in battle. The Knight-Master stood against the large squad of Sith Troopers. His voulge striking down each opponent one by one. Yet as the final trooper collapsed to the ground, there was no death. The white cape, branded with a black Imperial logo, fluttered behind the armored figure who stood above the broken forms of the Sith troopers. One man tried crawling, pushing with his feet while balancing himself with one arm to escape. His other arm sliced away by the voulge, the wound bled profusely. Arminius drove the point of the weapon into the pavement and drew his lightsaber. With a snap-hiss a brilliant white blade came to life. Arminius grabbed the man by the collar, his grip solid enough to stop the man with no effort. Lowering his lightsaber, he swiped the blade across the wound itself, cauterizing it shut. For the Sith Trooper it was the most painful experience in his life. Yet he would not bleed out.

Arminius did not pride himself on the number of enemies who fell to his blade. In his mind, the best number was zero. Only the Sith took a perverse sense of pride or honor for killing their opponents. Broken bones, bruised rips, missing limbs. Arminius's enemies would live. Shifting his gaze back to the intersection, he noticed another batch of Imperial civilians fleeing safely to the evacuation zones. In his mind, that was the real victory.

​

 

[Darth Daiara]

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed

Spoiler: The Story

PRELUDE
Before the Second Bastionfall....

「A PATTERN HERE I NEED TO SEE」

A Sith turned from the dark is a life saved and an enemy defeated. Jedi by circumstance, altruist by choice, Zaavik felt it was his duty to preserve life. No matter how vain or risky the effort, he would do what he believed he must. Should it be the death of him, at least he died on his feet with good in his heart and soul. The prospect did not frighten him as much as it once had.

How could nothingness possibly be worse than this?

The Shadow skulked across the hangar, making a beeline towards a fighter vessel. The ladder to the cockpit clanked under his footfalls, ascending closer with every step. A voice called out from behind him, resonating off the walls of the empty hangar and into his ears, causing him to freeze.

"Zaavik!?" The voice of Ryv was unmistakable. "You missed the brief, I- What are you doing?"

Zaavik sighed. Busted. "Leaving," he replied plainly, taking another step on the ladder.

"Cold feet, huh? Cmon, let's talk about this, no need to go deserting us."

"No, it's not that. I uh-" Zaavik dropped off the ladder, boots smacking into the durasteel flooring beneath. A turn was made to face Ryv, a few steps forward made to meet him. "There's something I gotta do. I don't really know how, or why, but I can feel it. The Force is pulling me somewhere, the call is-" He paused, looking down to the floor with an odd camber to his lips before looking back up to his fellow Jedi. "It's really loud, Ryv. I can't ignore it."

The Sword of the Jedi made a face, placing a hand on his hip with an inquistive raise of his brow. "Something, huh?" His tone was laden with more curiosity than doubt. "What's this something, then?"

"Saving a life."

No deception emanated from Zaavik to Ryv's empathic sense. The Kiffar let out a breath and smirked slightly. "Fine, I'll cover for you. Just don't get in over your head, okay?"

"When do I ever?"

Ryv blinked in silence, a blank stare regarding the Zeltron with disbelief.

Zaavik smirked, chuckling at his own joke. "I'll be fine," he insisted, hastily climbing back up the ladder and climbing into the cockpit. Certainty in his statement was a facade, for the Knight truly didn't know what to expect. A certain dread was hidden behind the pull the Force assaulted him with. It was better not to dwell on those feelings, anyhow. "Thanks," he offered as he slid the pilot's helmet over his head and looked down to Ryv.

The Kiffar nodded in silence, arms moving to cross over his chest. Engined blared as the vessel started up. Artificial winds danced wildly in all directions as the fighter slowly raised from the floor before tearing forward through the atmospheric shield of the hanger. Zaavik disappeared as a spec against the endless void of space.


FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」

"No entry, Jedi." A Togrutan Imperial Knight rebuked Zaavik's request with clear contempt. This entrance to the Redoubt was guarded only by the Knight and an accompanying Stormtrooper. Other forces were scrambling to prep defenses and take positions, leaving the actual present security rather lacking.

"Listen, man, I'm on your side, I'm just trying to-"

"We said no entry," the Stormtrooper helmet vocoder distorted voice doubled down with his Imperial Knight comrade.

"You forget, we are only allies against the Sith. You are not entitled to our facilities, we are not friends."

Zaavik threw his hands up halfway and sighed with feigned defeat. "Yeah, whatever," he replied with a facade of concession. He took a step backward, turned his back half to them, and pulled out his commlink, pretending to make a call. Both guards eased up, thinking the Shadow had given up. Cybernetic hand brought the comm up to his lips as his other hand made a sneaky wave at his side, index and little finger flicking up and down.

"You will let me into the redoubt," he spoke firmly.

The Stormtrooper's posture went slack. "I will let him into the Redoubt."

"What?"

The guard turned and tapped at the door control, punching in a code that caused the massive door panels to begin to slide open with a loud groaning.

"'The hell are you doing?"

Zaavik crept up alongside the Trooper and quickly reached forward to switch his blaster to stun. "Blast him," he commanded calmly.

A hiss of white plasma erupted from the Imperial Knight's saber hilt as the realization took over. The first shot was parried, the magnetic containment field of the saber sending it flying wildly into the air. The second shot found purchase, slipping past the saber and slamming into the Knight's gut, sending him crumpling to the ground unconscious. The effectiveness of New Imperial Troopers proving once again capable of overcoming the lightsaber.

Zaavik scoffed smugly. "Veina," queen, he quipped as he looked down at the Togruta. The Jedi offered a congratulatory pat on the shoulder, the metal of his prosthetic clattering against plastoid shoulder pauldrons. "Good job. Take a nap, huh? You've earned it."

"You got it, boss!" The Stormtroopers knees gave as he folded to the floor. Armor clacked and clamored against itself, followed by the hollow thud of helmet onto concrete. Snoring echoed inside the hollow shell, vocoding outward as a digitized static. A long step over the two unconscious guards heralded his waltz through the foyer of the Redoubt.

Corellian Coin rolled around between his fingers. Ethereal screams, wails, and other horrible sounds of the past echoed through the halls, courtesy of the coin's imprint. It was nothing short of gutwrenching, but he had no choice other than to endure. The echoes and visions carved a clairvoyant path toward his intent, a macabre road for his likely vain quest.

Staircase, corridor, left turn, corridor, right turn, stairs again. The former Sith Academy had looked big, but on the inside, the scale was even more impressive. Remnants of Sith iconography still lingered, the efforts to chip them away in favor of the Imperial Codex still ongoing. It was no wonder it had taken so long, he'd felt as if he'd walked miles already.

Every new scream he heard, every new cry, every new spatter of blood he saw evoked a unique grimace all their own. He'd heard about it, but the first-hand recollections were a lot worse than he thought. Zaavik was still in a coma when this all went down. He wouldn't have ever imagined the ordeal to be this horrific. Yet, somehow, it didn't feel wrong.

Another corridor, this time the coin granted him the sound of laughter. A familiar voice that reverberated from father ahead, echoing in a repetitive rhythm further and further down the hallway. Pace increased, pointed boots slogging against the tiles with their own impactful reiteration off the hard interior walls.

Disfigured digits lightly caressed a durasteel door. Eyelids closed, opposite hand clenching the coin as he focused internally. In the back of his mind's eye, red-hued locks danced against momentum through the threshold. The coin was practically humming, a subtle vibration buzzing in the center of his palm.

This was it.

Fingers slid down to the door control. A pulse through the force willed the mechanisms to clear, forcing the door to hiss open and click at the apex of it coming ajar. Slowly he walked forward, what was once a significant space had been reduced to a linen closet. Towels, vestments, rags, curtains, and the like. It could have been much worse, they had to store the dismantled Sith Iconography somewhere, or at least, whatever they couldn't burn.

Situating himself in the center of the room, Zaavik turned to face the door and dropped slowly to his knees. He sat on his feet and placed the coin in front of him. Both fists retreated to his knees as his eyes closed. A deep breath would slip him into a light meditative trance.

She would be here, he was certain.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed

Aradia had been removed from the front line. The order had been as clear as day, yet when the call for Bastion came to life... She broke her master's orders and answered. Kaalia would never understand.

She had to be there.



Her footsteps echoed through the familiar hall, goosebumps prickling over her skin. The siege of Bastion rang on beyond these now insignificant walls, but she did not yet join. Something drew her forward-- an intangible string pulling tight at her chest.

No one had survived the Imperial's attack. She knew that. Yet every corner she turned, her eyes searched, almost desperate for a lock of blonde hair-- a familiar dimple. Someone. Anyone.

Bastion Academy had been purged.

Tula had not survived.

She stopped short at juncture, a Fel tapestry hanging where an Empire one had once resided. She could see its faint outline, the dirt stain refusing to let the past fade. She let out a pained hiss. Fire erupted across the imperial symbol. She walked onwards, her once timid steps gaining intention.

Did they really think they could erase her with no consequence?

Ideas bubbled forward, smothering the pinching that built in her tear ducts. She had been in enough wars to know that pure brute would not win this school back alone. She had to--

She stopped short, a familiar set of doors appearing before her. In her brooding, she had not paid attention to where her feet had taken her. The path had been instinctual. Habit. She swallowed hard, the pinching in her tear ducts redoubling as she stared at her old dorm door.

Her hand raised before her, moving as if it were in a dream as it entered the old code.

The doors swished open.

Cold shock bit through her like poison.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」

Visions of hatred and desperation flooded over his mind in dreamlike watercolors as he meditated. Pain echoed from the coin in front of him, he could feel it like it was his own. The screaming was loud enough to hurt his ears. Gurgling in the throat, he couldn't breathe. Something tightened his grip, not letting him leave this meditative state. Blood, the blood was everywhere, a growing pool of ichor crimson.

She died here. Through her own eyes, he could only watch.

The hissing of a door jolted him from his meditation at the very moment she'd slipped away in the vision. An invisible smog of force energy flooded the tension laden atmosphere as their eyes met. Alive and well despite what he'd seen, there she was. Zaavik gasped in both shock and vital need, he could not breathe during that forced recollection. The weight of the force around them proved too much for the old Corellian Token. Metal cracked, small grains of shrapnel bouncing off the floor with a high pitch ding. The half-sundered coin flipped into the air from the ground.

Zaavik's hand flung forward, fumbling around with the coin for a brief moment before snatching it from the air. His other hand raised slowly, fingers extended and palm facing out pacifistically. With one fluid motion he stood up slowly from his knees, his feet planting firmly against the ground. Token deposited into his jacket pocket, and then the same hand mimicked the non-aggressive gesture of the other.

"Relax," he implored softly. "I'm not to here to hurt you or anything, I just want to talk, that's all." Either hand dropped to his side once he felt he'd made his intentions clear. "I know you must be feeling a lot right now," he began, trying to take the empathy approach. He couldn't help but immediately the second guess whether or not that was the right approach. He made a face, shaking his head to himself. "Look, fuck it, whatever, just hear me out, okay?" A turbolaser smacking into Ravelin in the near-distance shook the Fel Redoubt. "While we still have the opportunity?"

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


How.

Her eyes screamed the question as the coin flipped through the air. It hit flesh, the noise muted but resounding as he caught and pocketed it. "You," she breathed, meeting his gaze.

Feeling a lot? That was one way to to put it. She stumbled a step back, at first expecting another attack. It was the shock alone that stopped her from drawing her saber, though the hatred she possessed for her growing arch enemy flared in her nostrils.

"Are you stalking me?" She accused, flabbergastion next to follow. He was in her old room. And it-- Her attention tore to its dusty shelves, pain lashing through her-- it had been reduced to nothing more than a linen closet. Her fury turned back on him. She raised her hand, her fingers clenched. A pulse of the force slammed into him. She stepped in, the door closing behind her as she bore him down.

"What. Are you doing. In my room?" She demanded. A telekinetic grip started to clench down on his throat.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」




The Jedi's head crept backward forcefully as the invisible grip tightened incorporeal fingers around his throat. Facial features twitched initially, but his resolve steeled and his regard remained covered by a convincing illusion of being unphased. "Ma'am, this is a linen closet," his wispy, air deprived vocalizations managed to quip in facetious contrary through the invisible restraint. Probably not a good time for jokes, the little voice of reason in his head scolded. A real shame too, as his wit had just formulated a pun involving 'breathtaking'.

"The coin," he explained. "I followed what it offered." A small cough rasped out of his airway. His hand slowly crept down to the saber on his belt, hovering over it with a twitching finger. "I told you, I'm just here to talk. I've seen what happened here, it showed me." His eyes narrowed as he drew a large breath laboriously through her attempt as suffocation, only causing the grip to grow tighter.

"Let me go," he rasped dryly. "I told you, you're not in any danger," yet "I'm not here to hurt you," unless I have to. It was always the omitted bits that were the most important. A universal rule between Jedi and Sith. There never had been any such thing as total honesty, and especially not between the faces of the Force's spiritual coin. A gulp struggled down his throat. "I don't blame you if you don't trust me, but I've let you go twice, haven't I?"

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


The quip earned him a rattling, one which his only his talking halted. She seemed to teeter in that moment, a crazied edge to her eyes as the urge to squeeeze rocked her. And there it was again. The hunger. It was growing less frightening, if only cause the Jedi served as something more pressing to mistrust.

"-- I've seen what happened here, it showed me."

Shock rippled over her features. The grip released him. He was left to gasp at the gifted air, the sithling staring skeptically at his cornered form. "What could you possibly have to say to me?" She uttered, distaste coating every word.

He was the enemy. His kind murdered her kind relentlessly. Everything she had known, they had stolen from her grasp. She was a kid, nearly purged for religious wars and deeds that were not her own. And he owned it.

They bore each other's scars. They were two sides of that same coin and they could never be made to see eye to eye. That was not how physics worked. The mention of what he had seen left her needing to know more. For a moment, she'd bite.

"You have thirty seconds."

Her saber jumped into her palm, the blue hue lighting up the room. Jedi. It was an embarrassing punishment in response to the saber he had taken from her. Wouldn't it be appropriate if she killed him with it in turn? She pointed it at his chest.

"No jedi tricks."

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「FIVE SECONDS」

A quiet, stifled gasp quietly compensated for the lack of air in his lungs. Chest and shoulders rose with each subsequent breath in an exaggerated fashion. "Foitan banas," fuck's sake, he bleated as he rubbed his throat with his right hand.

Five seconds had passed.

"Thirty seconds?" Zaavik scoffed, upper lip curling with vexation. "This is gonna take a lot longer than thirty seconds, you're just gonna have to deal with that."

Five more seconds passed.

He sighed. No preparations as to what he was going to say had been made prior. This entire endeavor had been spontaneous, and he was playing it by ear for better or worse. "No tricks," he reassured begrudgingly. He showed his hands, turning them once over and them back, keeping them where she could see them. "You're torn up about what happened here, it doesn't take an empath to figure it out. I get it, I really do. I've been there too, believe it or not. Not just losing everyone, but to death's door as well."

Five seconds left.

"The residual echoes gave me a vision; I saw you die here, in the courtyard, nearly drowning in your own blood. I don't know how you're still here-"

Time's up.

"But I know it wasn't the work of any Sith."

Zaavik had been counting the seconds in his head, he was ready to snap his hand down to his saber if he had to. Yet, still he continued regardless.

"I know you don't want to let anything like that happen again. Not even just to yourself, either. But you're on the wrong path. The Sith do that kind of shit on a planetary scale on a near-constant basis. I can see the good in you, you mean well, but you're misguided."

There was a pause, Zaavik gauging the atmosphere before his next sentiment.

"I came here because I can help you."

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


Her heart pulsed in her ear, the tip of her saber subtly wavering with each internal thump thump thump. That wasn't what she was expecting to hear. Her thoughts raced, her eyes searching for a sign of mockery. The boy was as serious as stone, an earnest edge to him imploration. He saw her. It disarmed her.

Was this an apology?

The saber lowered a centimeter, her chest puffing in distress as he painted a picture of that day. She didn't like to think about her death. She didn't like that he knew about it. Standing before him, she felt vulnerable. Raw.

Confused.

It distracted her from an off set of words, her gaze boring into him-- Hungry for recognition, desperate to feel whole again. Thirty seconds had come and gone, and he still held her attention.

"How?" She asked, her voice tight and mistrusting.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」




Getting this far was unexpected. Every expectation was that she'd try to strike him down the moment he finished speaking. At least he was getting somewhere. It was a much better start than he could have realistically hoped for. Though, he was beginning to understand that the closer he got, the thinner the tightrope would get. Unfortunately, he didn't have time for anything other than a full send. Beyond the walls of the redoubt, the battle raged indifferent to this encounter. Every breath taken in silence was time wasted.

"You're in pain. Desperate to scrub a layer of soot from your skin that won't wash away. Hate won't be a solvent, it'll only bring you more suffering. I know what happened was wrong, horrible, but we can do our damndest no make sure nothing like it ever happens again. You don't trust me, I know, and to be honest, I'm not exactly your biggest fan either."

Zaavik slowly offered out his hand. Durasteel-cortosis alloy glittering with a weathered sheen beneath the artificial light overhead.

"But it's my duty to help you. Not just as a Jedi, but as someone who's been exactly where you are. That wound will fester forever, it's not something you can just forget, but you can soothe it. It would be unfair and dishonest to try to convince you otherwise. We can't ever make it right, but we can do right by you. Come with me, leave the Sith behind, open your eyes to a better path. You can make a difference this way, a crusade for vengeance isn't going to save anyone, it's only going to eat you up inside."

"Isn't it already?"

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed

He had her. He really did. His words hit feelings she had never been able to give names to. He said it like it was. He validated her, no excuses. No blame on her.

Goosebumps speckled up her arms, a surreal prick of emotions hitting her tear ducts. For a moment, it felt okay. To feel. To hurt. It was horrible. It was wrong! And she deserved to hear it-- she deserved-

"Come with me, leave the Sith behind,--"

Her expression froze, the emotions bleeding from the planes of her face. And that was the exact moment everything he had to say meant diddly chit.

"You're trying to recruit me," she said, a dangerous edge to the emotionless statement. She beheld the cornered jedi, the tight rope he walked held taunt, moments from snapping.

Or maybe it already had.

She left him to sweat it out, her hand clenching on her hilt as she took a single, harmless step towards him. "Why?"

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」

"Recruit you?" A humorous scoff slipped wryly from between his lips. "Ostensibly, maybe. Though, not even I would be so naive to think I, or anyone for that matter, may make a Jedi out of you." Zaavik smirked briefly, his glare softening in a non-aggressive fashion. "I thought about it, and maybe I'm wrong, but I just don't see it." The offered hand dropped halfway, making room for her approach while also retreating in a paranoid touch-avoidant gesture. Ironic, given the nature of the gesture in the first place.

"I'm sure plenty would've said the same about me, though." Truthfully, he himself was quite possibly the worst excuse for a Jedi he'd ever met. Knighting had felt like a sham, war hero commendation too, he didn't deserve anything. That's why he was trying to earn it now, make a difference. Whether it was the truth or his own twisted perspective on himself changed nothing. What he'd done all the way up to where he stood now couldn't ever be changed. You had to live with these things.

"I just want to help you, like I said. Jedi or otherwise, just not a Sith. The Dark Side is voracious, and it devours you with every passing second. So too, is the hate that you bottle. Mine has already eaten more of my than I can ever hope to get back. I don't want that for anyone. Not even a Sith."

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


A dry laugh caught in her chest, his words earning a near roll of her eyes. "Oh when you put it that way. I'm flattered." She kept approaching, her steps lazy yet pointed as she drove him back. There was no window in this room. There was no escape spare the door at her back. She bounced the saber in her hand, the tip held off to the side.

"You know. For a moment I thought you might actually be decent. But I'm so stupid," she cursed, her head shaking in passionate dismissal. "Such an idiot to think I could actually get understanding out of someone like you. You spout the craziest chit, you know that? As if I'd abandon the people that need me." She pointed the saber his way, its length bouncing haphazardly as she gestured. "The people you want to kill." The blue hue reflected in her eyes, intense as her fury broke free.

"You will never. Speak. Of my pain. Again," she uttered, her voice rasping with righteous indignation. Firey hot tears boiled over, the wounds of her past laid open and bare. It was his fault. For prying. For being a prick. For taking part in the systematic murder of people-- he was no savior. He was no hero. She didn't buy his excuses. She saw him as he was and she held him to it.

"I hate you!"

She descended on him in a flurry, streak of red and blue as she went to deliver a silencing blow across his neck.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DISCIPLE」

A grimace materialized over Zaavik's face when the laugh reached his ears. The final thread on the rope had finally broken. Whatever silver he had on that tongue of his clearly hadn't been worth its weight in words this time. Fingers twitched, muscles in his body near-trembling with anticipation of whatever twitch-reaction he'd need to make next to save his skin.

Every opportunity he had to retort was stifled by her continual rebuke. Words had probably outgrown their usefulness now. Cerulean eyes followed the blue droning of saber tip as she whisked it around with the camber of her words. He wasn't listening anymore. She was going to strike, it was clear, all attention reallocated to the secret top priority of this entire endeavor: not dying.


"I hate you!"

Couldn't help but hear that part, though. Visions of the saber's trajectory flooded his middle-consciousness with a pang of danger only split-instant before she began to strike. Eyes widened suddenly, head reeling back along with the bending of knees. Spine and sinew contorted suddenly into a low backward lean, slipping just beneath the would-be deathblow. He snapped back up, snatching his saber on the way up and sending the viridescent blade screaming to life with the distinct hiss that only a lightsaber could make.

A step back sought to put space between them, but his back bumped the wall halfway in. He pointed his saber forward in a defensive gesture and half-shrugged wryly. "Well, welcome the club then, I guess."

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed

She screamed in his face, the motion senseless and even wild as he made light of her pain. There was insult in what he had just tried to do. There was pain in the pain he tried to use against her-- pain he was responsible for.

She would not be manipulated. She would hold him accountable.

She felt so foolish.

The room surged with energy, dark and twisted. She jumped up, her head brushing the high stone ceiling. The energy imploded, telekinetic tendrils ripping the shelving off the walls. In her fury, she was stronger. The metal units went tumbling down towards him. She fell after it, her hair flowing around her like a vengeful halo as she came down with an overhead strike.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DISCIPLE」

Pupils dilated to a black speck on a cerulean backdrop. Adrenaline coursed along with the force, every muscle revving for their next move. A second hand grasped his saber hilt, thumb sliding over to press the activator to send the second blade erupting from the opposite end. Controlled arcs of verdant light sundered shelf and linen as they careened toward him on either side. Plasma hissed against metal and fabric, leaving a burnt smell in the air expanding from the long, black scars left in the objects.

Zaavik turned his chin up, meeting her snarling rage head-on with a stern look of determination. Blue and green screeched together, one of his blades catching the oncoming strike from overhead. The blade to the opposite cut into the wall behind him as the hilt turned with an accommodating camber. The light from the clashing blades strobed a vibrant cyan.

He pressed forward, kicking his foot off the wall and freeing himself from the clash. His frame spun in a tilted corkscrew, his boots knocking into a ceiling panel and jarring it out of place. He landed on the other side of her with a broken shelf clattering beneath the impact of his feet. Elbows pulled back, and one shoulder reached over to hold the saber alongside him at head-level; Juyo's closest equivalent to a fool's guard.

"We don't have to fight," he declared calmly. Illumination droned and sputtered against his face, melding with the light vermillion to manifest a hazy yellow sheen over his visage. "You know how this is gonna end; the same way it did the last two times." Her shoulder and side were testaments to the iron grip he'd kept on the upper hand between them.

"Just- Unignite the saber. Please. We can talk about this," he implored, ever persistent.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


"One time," she corrected with a hiss, turning to match her positioning with his dodge. She had no trouble balancing on top of the mess, her movements graceful as she pivoted her footing on the side of the fallen shelves.

The levity of what he had tried to do kept pulsing over her, bringing with it waves of indignation as she broke it apart. He had acted like he understood. And she-- she had wanted to believe-- because he wasn't the only one that had recognized parallels. She had seen his desperation for control on her ship. He didn't trust his people. She could see his scars-- and he--

He played with her.

"Just- Unignite the saber. Please. We can talk about this,"

"Shut up," She snapped. And it was was the last thing he'd have her say, her legs sinking into stance. And then she attacked.

Her blade twisted in arcs through the air, whipping quickly from form to form as she pressed for an opening. It was unrelenting, as smooth as water rushing in to a damn. Where there were cracks, she would press to slip through. He had always had her running, her back to him was his turf. Facing him head on was a different matter. Her size meant nothing when he had to break past her guard.

Her guard was deadly. She was going no where.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DISCIPLE」


"Shut up,"

Were it so easy, he thought.

There wasn't any time to keep thinking as arcs of malicious blue struck toward him. His own saber came to meet them, weapon oscillating to parry with either blade one after the other. The sudden rush of offense forced Zaavik back a step as the defensive twirl of verdant plasmatic edges only just managed to bat away the strikes. Another step back. Zaavik felt a tug on his jacket followed by a hiss. A sliver leather and zipper incinerated by a the stray followthrough of a poorly parried attack.

A final step back. His heel caught the door, the rubber sole of his bootheel squeaking down to the floor. Nowhere left to go. A searing pain assaulted the flesh of his tricep near the elbow. Leather hissed as it burned away, a glancing blow turning flesh to black in an instant. He bared his teeth with a vague intonation of pain. Another strike came from the left. Zaavik smacked it away with a wild parry, saber blades popped and sizzled from the impact.

Zaavik used the opening to release one hand from the hit and throw it backward to slap the door control. A reverse step into the newly unobstructed door threshold brought him just beyond the reach of the next strike. Zaavik threw a feint to the right, pulling back at the last moment and shoving both hands forward to send the inert metallic center of his hilt towards the bridge of Aradia's nose.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


Aradia jerked, the hilt clipping her temple. Pain blossomed, her vision dancing. She didn't let her guard drop, but it bought him the breathing space to make it through the door and catch his footing.

She hissed, touching her temple and pulling back to find blood. It flowed freely down her forehead, the first drop sliding past her eye. Her attention snapped back onto him, the hit drawing a scowl across her lips.

"All that time Allyson spent away has left you sloppy," she stated softly, seeking a flinch of pain across his expression. Her chest throbbed, aching with the embarrassment his false pity had left her with.

The moment her words registered on his face, she assaulted him with a telekinetic barrage right towards his gut. She followed it in with an Ataru flip out the door, corkscrewing into a weighted slash over his metal arm.

"You're pathetic!" She screamed, her voice raw from the pain that she reflected onto him.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「ATTITUDE」




The soft reluctance in his face shifted to sharp malice almost instantly. A sharp exhale as his nostrils flared, teeth bared from beneath curled lips. He reared back for a strike, biting at the bait almost instantly. Alas, a collection of small, unseen forces slammed into his gut, catching him off guard and extracting a cough that sputtered with a backward stumble. Vision broke into doubles, a wheeze rushing into his lungs. Unconsciousness only narrowly avoided by some unexplained force of will.

A pang of feat nudged at him. Near-breathless he pivoted on his heels to meet her ascent over him. Prosthetic hand snatched forward, cortosis lining trapping the blue plasma with impunity. Arm shook with exertion as he slowly pulled the saber down and to the side like an off-kilter lever. "Veina," queen, he forced through clenched teeth. "Keep that name out of your mouth."

Zaavik's tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. A half step forward added momentum to the forward torque of his shoulders as he sent his forehead recklessly downwards toward the crown of her skull.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed

She let him, her whole being falling into the welcoming embrace of the darkside. Energy rushed forward and rippled over her skin. He slammed into a solid barrier, her teeth grinding at the faint echo of pain that made it through. He would have it worse. Ashin Cardé Varanin lesson had been worth the payment.

She beheld him evenly, blood dripping down her face as she took in his fury.

"Who's the sith now?" He knee went up, a foot aiming to kick him in the gut and buy her space. At the same time, her wrist twisted, trying to break her saber free. She had told him to shut up-- go away. Leave her alone! But in that length of time a change had slowly crept over her. An edge entered her eyes, the soft girl turning hard. What mattered before mattered less now. Now she wanted him to flinch. Now she wanted him to know the pain he mocked.

"Admit it." She taunted again, walking forward with those exacting steps. The same one he had stalked her with that night on Life Day.

"You're hypocrites. The lot of you. Hate me if you want-- fine! But stop pretending you're any better for it, OWN WHO YOU ARE!" She lunged at him, one breath away from resuming her flurry of sword work.

This wasn't what she came to Bastion for, but it felt good.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「ATTITUDE」

Pain throbbed in his forehead as he pulled back from the impact. Aradia's blood smeared now across his face from the aggressive contact, crimson ichor contrasting against the brighter reds of his skin. At the very least, he knew what he felt was nothing compared to what he'd inflicted upon her. Against the blood-black smears, the crystalline mirrors in his skull shone even brighter than before. An entirely different intensity than those opposite of him, however. It wasn't anger, that had faded as soon as it sparked, No, instead it was a certainty. Certainty that he wouldn't lose. Certainty that Aradia needed help. Certainty that this wouldn't be in vain.

A barrage of cerulean strikes approached with a precise hatred. Alternating between blades, Zaavik parried each with deft, deceptively effortless looking strokes. Every return strike he threw was deliberately aimed to injure or disarm, but not to kill. It didn't matter, as none found purchase past her guard. Plasma sizzled on plasma, flashes of light illuminating in quick snaps with every moment of contact. A final clash saw their weapons lock together, the two of them struggling against each other's strength. While it'd been made painfully clear in previous encounters that Zaavik would easily overpower the waifish Sith, this time she met him with everything he could give, as if she had some inhuman surge of strength.

The work of the dark side, no doubt.

"You're right," he said. "I'm a hypocrite." He wouldn't indulge her accusations as a generalized picture of the entire Jedi Order, though. It wasn't his place to speak for them, or declare what they were. He was only a Knight, and a fresh one at that. Zaavik was a hypocrite, but a hypocrite was in many cases just a man trying to change. It was often those who criticized, however, who were trying to hide what they themselves lacked. "If I hated you-" he said, trailing off for a moment as he summoned his own surge of strength to avoid being overwhelmed. "I wouldn't be trying to help you."

Zaavik shoved forward, freeing himself from the clash and gliding backward on feet kept low the floor. He twirled once over, adjusting himself through the corridor and braced for the next barrage. If he was going to be on the back foot, at the very least he'd take the liberty of leading the fight locale. She could press all she wanted but had to follow where he retreated. He'd need to retain some semblance of control if this was going to ever turn in his favor.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

He admitted it too easily. It did nothing-- soothed nothing. She needed to see his pain, she needed him to know. She descended on him, her thoughts bleeding away as the fight took over. She didn't think, Kaalia and taught her that just got in the way. She felt. Instincts and the force guided every unrelenting strike she rained down on him.

It was different, being the pursuer. The control was in her hands this time. She wasn't willing to let it go.

"If I hated you-I wouldn't be trying to help you."

"Right," she scoffed, matching his pace down the hall. "Handing me to my murders, very helpful." Her features contorted with the delayed pain of the reminders, the blue blade twirling twice at her side. She surged forward, an underhanded swing trying to clip up under his armpit. Her strikes were starting to focus around that arm, a push to severe the cybernetic from flesh pursuing.

"You want me dead," she spat, following it with a fluid upward arch that transitioned to clash towards his hip.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「ATTITUDE」​

Zaavik moved again to parry the strike, feet shifting and arms arcing to guide his saber toward the strikes. Blue skidded against green, halting the first, but not stopping the tip of the blue to carve slightly into his hip. "Kuron!" A pained expletive growled from a deep, primal depth in his vocal folds. His stance faltered on that side momentarily before a sudden flourish and compensating readjustment put him back in place. Red spattered visage regarded Aradia with a pained grimace. The kind of grimace only incinerated nerve-endings could achieve.

"If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have bothered trying to talk to you in the first place," he said. Two opportunities to kill her had come and gone before this third meeting. Zaavik chose mercy both times, even allowing her to flee the very heart of the Core in her own ship. Did that mean nothing to her? Or was she so blind with rage she hadn't even considered reflecting? Zaavik shoved these considerations out of his mind. If there was any hope of a breakthrough, he had to speak. As long as she continued the assault, he wouldn't be able to do that effectively.

His eyes darted around in an erratic scan for a solution. Improvisation was largely responsible for the reason he was still alive. Today would probably no exception. A door control was just barely visible over he shoulder, past the reddish threads that hung over it. A moment of focus, and suddenly Zaavik could feel the door panel's electrical pulse as he reached through the force. On the other side, that pulse echoed out into a chamber much larger than the linen closet he'd only narrowly escaped from.

An idea flickered to life in his head.

The Shadow moved forward, throwing wild and ferocious strikes toward Aradia with either blade. Buzz, sizzle, pop, all deflected. He could see the blue moving for his head in a horizontal strike just before it happened as if he pulled the next move from her mind. He dipped low, his left foot extending and sliding across the ground beside her. A bend of his knee pulled him in as he ducked beneath the strike and strafe alongside her to maneuver behind. Zaavik spun with his momentum, his heel kicking the unsecured door panel and triggering it to open.

Boot shifted flat against the wall, pushing off to meet her oncoming attack with added force. When the force of his insistent parrying created some breathing room, he slipped back through the threshold. With two swings, his saber carved into precise locations along the door frame, sending sparks and smoke flooding into the threshold and he faded into the obscurity of the greyish screen of wisps and flickers.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


A trill of excitement brought a smile to her lips. She was getting to him. Each hit chipped away at his defenses. She could feel his desperation in the flurry of his attacks. It urged her on, the acolyte finally finding the upper hand. All she had to do was keep. On. Pushing.

She sunk deeper into the power, letting it strength her limbs and rule her reflexes. It was almost hers-- her intangible need to break him at her finger tips.

Smoke filled the halls, a fancy flurry of his sabers creating a momentary reprieve. She followed him without hesitation, growing reckless with the power she leaned into.

"How does it feel?" She asked, nudging the door closed behind her. Click, went the lock. "Being hunted. Trapped." She let that word hang in the air, the echos of a lost life still clinging to the energy of this room. The purge was not an easy thing to erase. Not that the Imperials even understood the forces they so carelessly messed with.

"Can you feel it? They linger. They haven't moved on. They haven't forgiven."

She walked in deeper, her saber drawing sparks across the stone as she dragged it behind her. The smoke began to settle, slight golden hue to her eyes as she scanned carefully.

"Once I'm done with you, I'll go for your friends too. I think they'd like that."

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「ATTITUDE」​

The Force shrouded Zaavik into obscurity. Every photon bent around him, a trick of the light rendering him completely invisible. He stood motionless as Aradia strolled into the room like an amused predator. With every step, she grew closer, stopping only inches in front of him. He held his breath, not wanting even the smallest breeze to tip her off. Hostile eyes scanned around the room, looking right through him as if he was never really there at all. A Ghost. A Shadow. Right under the nose was where he excelled.




Come to think of it, it wasn't exactly a new sensation. In one way or another, that feeling was ever-present. The streets of Zeltros, the halls of the Jedi Temple's youngling ward with the taunting, tormented faces that inhabited it, and now with Ido Bastra snuffed out, even his own home. He was now, at this moment, what he always had been. It would be a lie to say her words didn't remind him how much it disgusted him. It'd taken years to learn how to ignore it, and he didn't much like being reminded.




Zaavik was a fool to think she couldn't say anything else that'd fuck with him. He frowned, even though he doubted there was much weight to that threat. Yet, it invoked some inexplicable urge to strike. Remove the head from the concept so that it never came to fruition. He could do it too, easily, right now. She couldn't see him, one flick of the activator on his saber and she'd be- No. He wasn't going to stoop to her level, she wanted that. Or, at least, she thought she did.

His fingers fanned out with his hand limp at his side. Reaching out to the force, he willed a box in the corner to topple over, drawing her eyes elsewhere. A slow step to the side was taken with which he was able to weasel around behind her. Any breeze he might have caused likely overlooked in favor of the sound he'd engineered. Backtracking toward the door, he waved his arm this time to make an even bigger sound on the opposite end of the room, this time pulling an entire shelf over.

A quick turn on his heels and he lunged for the door control. A beep, and then a metallic screeching as the door forced its way open through the damaged frame. A quick step out through the mostly cleared wall of smoke and he dropped from invisibility. A blank look regarded back into the room as he hit the control again and sent the door grinding shut. With a small force of will, the force commanded the electronics in the door to lock. A loud click echoed through the hollow frame and out both sides.

He wasn't trapped anymore, objectively, but it didn't make the feeling go away. Nothing ever did.

Zaavik's forearm rested halfway against the door and the wall. A few heavy breaths caught him up to comfortable stamina. Now he could talk. "Bhesj," was the first thing out of his mouth. Old Corellian this time, not Zeltron, a general term of impatience. "Just listen to me," he insisted. "If I really wanted you dead, think about it, wouldn't this have been a waste of time?" He was beginning to feel like it was anyway. "I could have killed you at the outpost. I didn't. I could have killed you on Lifeday. I didn't. You aren't that dense, surely."

"You could've sent that knife between my ribs. You didn't. That's why I'm here. You're letting your fear and your pain get the better of you. You think you want to hurt me, but that's not really what you want. You want to feel safe, strong. You think if you hurt me, you'll reassure yourself that no one can ever hurt you again. It won't. It'll only make it worse. I know what you're feeling. Sinking my saber through the heart of the man that-" Zaavik hesitated. "Took everything from me- It didn't fix anything. Nor did the next one. Or the next one. It just festered the wound. I'm not about to let anyone, not even you, succumb to that, not when I've seen that there's still the possibility redemption left in them."

Zaavik Dagoth was a Jedi. He didn't try to help her for the praise. He didn't try to help her for his own self satsifaction. He was doing this because it was right.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


Ethereal forms appeared along the edge of her vision, teens in dark robes and men in white suits. The deeper she sunk into the power, the clearer their forms grew, visible only to the girl they haunted.

She slammed her fist into the door, frustration boiling over as he cut her off to the other side.

He spoke with reason, but the time where she could hear it had come and passed. "Shut up," she hissed again, the words she was forced to endure causing lashes of pain. Her saber pierced the door, molten magma forming around the end that burned its way through to him.

"You think just because you read a coin you know how I feel. You do not." She gritted her teeth against the sweltering heat, muscles flexing as she started the slow process of cutting a hole.

"But you will."

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DIE BY THE BLADE」​

The opposing saber that plunged through the door came only inches from his face. Violet strands that hung over his face fizzled as they were singed by the radiating heat. Zaavik stumbled backward in surprise, nearly planting his ass into the floor. Several clumsy stumbles cantered quickly along the ground before he caught his balance. He straightened, moving to square himself with the door.

A sigh laden with slight feelings of defeat exhaled toward the blue saber. "Have it your way."

Zaavik reignited once side of his saber, the green blade extending with a screech. He reached out to the force, focusing on Aradia's presence on the other side of the door. There would only be a moment before he'd cut through, so he had to make this count. A vague outline of her stance shimmered into his minds eye and he lined it up with door in front of him. Taking care to avoid her saber, he took a step forward and performed a two-handed thrust, sending his blade through the door as well, aimed at her shoulder.

In her fury, she missed the force's warning. Again. His saber pierced her shoulder, a scream granting him the knowledge of his mark. Her saber yanked out of the door, red descending over her vision as her rage awoke.

He was granted a moment's reprieve as she stepped back, clutching at her shoulder with pained grunts. If only she could do that healing thing on command. She didn't even understand it. It was a thought for another time-- She raised a bloody hand, her vision blurring with tears of exertion. The force crushed down on the weakened door, bits of it caving in inch... by... inch.


It ripped open, bending over itself as she revealed the contents of the room. She glared at him, cold fury in her eyes as she face down the jedi that meddled. The jedi that snooped. The jedi that knew too much. And she. Couldn't. Stand it. Her expression contorted in pure spite, unrecognizable as she gathered her pain to her.

"I'll tell Allyson you said bye."

Lightening shot from her fingertips, startling even her as the red arms reached for his body.

 

[FN-999]

POST: III
OBJECTIVE: I
LOCATION: Fortress Imperator, North Gate
EQUIPMENT (FN-999): In signature, Reaper Chainblaster
UNIT: The 19th Stormtrooper Assault Company (240/240) (see detailed status on tactical map)
ALLIES: NIO | Uriel Tokarev (in radio proximity) | Djorn Bline | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Creuat | Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Tyrell Paxxus | Kolson Vrask | Meko Sorrin | Zakaria Black | Vostok Grauv
HOSTILES: TSE | UX-0626 (indirectly engaging with NPCs)

​

[Captain Nines, this is Lieutenant ST-1121 again. We're still detecting movement from the Sith landing site.]

[Their position must be better established than we expected. Our air support has done all it could, give me a moment to procure our next plan of action.]

The current situation for the 19th was problematic, to say the least. While most of the Sith ground forces were at least two kilometers away from the northern perimeter, the one group that they had been tracking had landed closer than their peers and had enough resilience to survive an airstrike. It was becoming increasingly tempting to build an interception force, even if doing so would weaken the larger company's formation. Still, no other Sith unit had yet to come close to the main formation, so sending a platoon out for even half an hour would likely not be overly detrimental.

[As it seems, the hostile formation was able to evade our airstrike. Lieutenant ST-1121, deploy your platoon to their coordinates to intercept them before they can regroup. Half of Lieutenant ST-0378's 343rd Platoon will take your place, maintaining a balanced flank. One of the platoon's halves shall be put under the command of the larger platoon's 2IC, who shall temporarily possess a lieutenant's authority.]

The two designated platoons efficiently carried out their orders, the 319th packing up their weapons and breaking rank while one half of the 343rd moved to take their place. From here, all FN-999 could do was keep his comms open and brace for the sudden arrival of a larger force seeking to breach the gate.

The 319th Platoon - JUSTICA ETERNO
30/30

The tense silence of a soon-to-be battlefield was broken by the march of stormtroopers.
​

The thirty-trooper company rushed forwards with haste not reasonably achievable by the heavier assault companies within the 19th, whose superior firepower was best used defensively. They marched towards a tower of smoke rising under a kilometer away, wreckage from the airstrike that had been ordered minutes earlier. They had thought the strike would have eliminated the entire landing party, but local scans had indicated that there was still movement among their line. Consequently, it would be the job if the 319th to eradicate the Sith forces as swiftly as possible and then be assimilated back into the 19th's formation.

Unlike his captain and some of his fellow lieutenants, ST-1121 had no personal grudge against the Sith. Still, he recognized them as a hostile state whose ideas opposed the New Imperial Order's and realized the importance of liberating countless systems from their tyrannical rule. ST-1121 would kill the Sith landing force quickly and mercilessly, perhaps taking an officer or two prisoner and then handing them over to the ISB for intel gathering. It was a simple task, and one that he did not see the 319th as incapable of performing.

"WHAT'S OUR MOTTO!" yelled ST-1121.

"JUSTICA ETERNO!!" was the universal reply.
​

Seconds later, the platoon turned on an abandoned intersection and within firing range of the wreckage. Taking cover behind cars and the side of a nearby apartment building, the troopers of the 319th opened fire on the Sith troopers in their immediate vicinity near the wreckage.

​

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

Mild re-work of narrative plan | Vaulkhar

​

Before Cotan had the opportunity to see if his counter-attack to Joycelyn would be successful, the world around him started to light up in fire; flares burning in the sky nearby, as a missile quickly flew in towards the fortress. Cursing, he lept backwards, drawing in another barrier of energy around himself. Nearly as soon as he landed atop the fortress, next to the plinth that previously held Vaulkhar's statue, a missile slammed down near where he'd just been dueling the empress. The concussive blast threw him backwards, flames from he hex missile licking against the defense he'd formed. He bounced once, twice, protected by the barrier, across the other end of the pinnacle of the fortress and down the other side.

Cotan tucked into a ball, rolling down the stairs on the opposite side; after a few moments he came to the next lower level of the massive ziggurat structure, limbs splayed out, breathing heavily. "Damned bombardment."

Aching, he stood, blade still in hand; as expected, the Empress was nowhere to be seen, though his current location wasn't without some other Sith, attempting to assault the fortress from every angle possible. Noticing him, they quickly ran at him; one, two, three lightsaber blades, all at the ready to strive to take off his head. The triple assault was relentless, blades coming high and low, alternating, always moving to surround him, just as he always moved away, keeping his opponents out from behind him.

From one battle, into the next without a break; were there anybody to watch, they'd see the exhilaration and determination on his face as he deftly parried and dodged every strike. A master of his craft, exhibiting all the strengths of Makashi and Soresu both, despite the fact that he was fighting with a metallic blade instead of a lightsaber; before, the one, and now the three who were drawing it out of him, each skilled in turn.

He parried away another strike, leaping backwards before the next could come to land deftly at the edge of the fortress. Powerful, dangerously strong, he could feel the pull of the battle; not just with these Sith, not just all around him, but within himself. He had long since devoted himself to the arts of combat, the craft of war, he even enjoyed the opportunity to test himself against foes such as Joycelyn, Prazutis, and Carnifex—but the thrill of contest could easily turn into a lust for blood if he wasn't careful, especially when faced against such a dark opponent, with echoes of war dancing through the Force all across the planet.

So, as the Sith made their final advance towards him, Cotan fell to one knee; raising the hilt of his blade near to his chin, perfectly horizontal to the ground, he breathed out, willing his heart to calm. Center of Being was a technique used in both meditation and in combat, and one Cotan knew well; though it was rare that he find himself in a duel protracted enough, or against such an aggressive opponent that he should use it for anything more than meditation. With another breath, he sank deeper, letting the sense of battle and the inexorable warriors he fought fade away; a stray blaster bolt flew inches from one ear, unheeded, unnecessary to deflect or avoid.

Mundane though his focus was, his master had not neglected the other aspects of his training, hadn't allowed him to let his ability to listen to the Force itself atrophy; so when he felt the call from it, he exhaled a third time, mundane reality slipping away entirely.

For a moment, there was only his heartbeat.

Then, when he opened his eyes again, he felt...elsewhere. He was still dimly aware of the battle on the planet, and the eddies and ripples sent through the Force with every spike of emotion, every triumph, and every death were both tangible, yet not. He could hear, see, feel blades clashing, his body moving, but it was as a spectator, not an active participant. Instead, however, there was one other person before him. One he hadn't seen alive since a battle on Kashyyyk. His jaw set—nearly clenched—as the full recognition came over him, waiting for the right words to come.

When Asha had found him again, the jokes and quips came easily, just as much as ever; there was joy and love to bury the anxiety that underlay so many of his relationships. The worry that he held, nigh-constantly, for nearly everyone he'd met. Asha, Romi, Coren, even Auteme and Ryv, who he'd only just come to know, who he could already sense, shining like stars elsewhere on the blasted, war-torn planet. Risking themselves, again and again and again, for the hope of making something better out of the galaxy, while he had been preoccupied with keeping the Sith, any Sith he could, preoccupied from leading their forces directly. From enacting the slaughter they would otherwise be capable of.

And here, in front of him, stood yet another proof that no matter how hard he tried, he had to accept he couldn't help them all. He sighed, uselessly relaxing his jaw and shoulders in this antechamber to the netherrealm.

"Vaulkhar."

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

the M I S T R E S S
M A L C O N T E N T​

Tag: Darth Assimilus​

​

From everywhere the undead unearthed. They clawed their way through soil and gravel to escape their burial place as the Nightsisters passed by. Their magick cast from the fingertips of the Non-Existent Coven of Thirteen, writhed as it streaked through the tunnels, long glistening jet black tentacles, the darkest energies they have ever wielded, drawn straight from the Sith'ari Carnifex himself. ​

He, and Sith connected to him, dwell eternal.​

They studied the Sith talents, but their way is quite different; their ancient art of potions add a chemical science into the mix of Darkness. One doesn't just counter the wave of Dark energy to quell their abominations. One has to fight their chemical magick with nullifying chemical magick. Not much on their magick would be found spread across the galaxy, for the Nightsisters are not any tribe to teach those not of their kindred, and their customs are so strict that they wouldn't know of any reason good enough to dissent from their educated practices. ​

And yet, something is different now. The Darkness known of her beloved stretched all around the coven while the women called more and more of the corpses into their service. The Darkness magnified for a little while, as her horde left the temple to go into the streets in the city, before a strange absence was felt, like a siphoning…dissipating. They are not alone, therefore the Nightsisters put up a barrier ahead of them, sealing in the Darkness there, that it would be used accordingly to continue that which the Sith bid, while one must investigate this unfathomable effect.​

The twelve spirits incarnate of Pom's Dathomiri ancestors, continued onward into the tunnel ahead, investigating the pathway options before them. They disappeared, enveloped by the wall of Darkness as they continued their work. Do not mistake that they are not entirely at home. Pom herself would rather be there.​

Ahead of her is the source of the Darkness, the many Sith who unified their efforts to conjure what they may. Behind her, her creation depleted, the undead were all at once dead yet again, unexpectedly so. To her dismay, she turned to hear them slump upon the ground. Their spirits rushed her, begging for another chance. ​

She turned to face the interruption, inhaled deeply, raised her hands once again, concentrating to reproduce her Magick, when she saw a red glow illuminate the cave from just past the bend where she had just traveled.​

Pom did not sense a living presence on approach with this light. She is most curious. She stood, as a shadow standing within shadow, prepared to react. She knew Jedi to be the type to rush into battle. She only met members of the NIO once before, Kezaroth was among them. She had long ago learned to hate them for whatever they had done that caused Kyrel to prefer death in service to them, over any form of life. ​

 

[Dracken Pryce]

Galactic Alliance Navy - 3rd Sector Fleet - Battlegroup Kenobi Attatched

Battlecruisers Destroyers Cruisers Frigates Corvettes Fighters In Play

• 
  
  • ANV Indullible 6 - Redeemer-Class Battlecruiser
  • ANV Steadfast - Redeemer-Class Battlecruiser
  • ANV Anodine - Redeemer-Class Battlecruiser
  • ANV Omachron - Starhawk-Class Battleship
  • ANV Freedom - Starhawk-Class Battleship
  • ANV Gleipnir - Starhawk-Class Battleship
  • ANV Destiny - Starhawk-Class Battleship
  • ANV Aspiration - Starhawk-Class Battleship
  • ANV Galactic Dawn - Alliance-Class Star Defender
  • ANV Unity of Purpose- Allaince-Class Star Defender
• 
  
  • ANV Hyperion - Nebula II-Class Star Destroyer
  • ANV Guardian - Nebula II-Class Star Destroyer
  • +3 Nebula II-Class Star Destroyers
• 
  
  • ANV Lylek - MC140c Scythe-Class Main Battle Cruiser
  • ANV Paradice Dawn - MC140c Scythe-Class Main Battle Cruiser
  • ANV Star Opal - MC140c Scythe-Class Main Battle Cruiser
  • ANV Hawk-Bat - REC-AU01 "Prosecutor" - Class Planetary Assault Ship [Fighter Config]
  • ANV Blue Bantha - REC-AU01 "Prosecutor" - Class Planetary Assault Ship [Fighter Config]
  • Misc. Support Cruisers
• 
  
  • Small Handful of Light Cruisers
• 
  
  • REC-CC01 "Avalon" - Class Corvettes
  • TXS Vandal-class Corvettes
  • REC/GS-01 “Nimbus” - Class Gunships
  • ANV Kakarot - Numbus-Class Gunship
  • Warrior II - Class Gunships
• 
  
  • T-90 X-Wings [Wildcat Squadron]
  • V-Wings
  • R-Wings
  • Y-Wings

Enemies: Moff Drybis Lyken | Grand Moff Decimus
Allies: Var Koon | Fiolette Fortan | Savoh Muska | Naier Rambeigh | Scourge Harz | Gordon
Engaging: Seela Leini | Onrai
​

Spoiler: TL;DR

• SV-212 successful in stopping Imperial bombing run on Gorgon. Nice job!​
• Activated Xythan Force shield, reflected UBeam bombardment and LRBBeams ​
• point defense missiles intercepted Baradium, baradium, and brilliant missile payload explosion made big light. React if you want to​
• Reinforcement call from first post is responded to and an Alliance fleet drops in behind and slightly below Ornai's original fleet position​
• Launch some corvettes, shoot potshots at some sith ships with Turbolasers​

Third Sector Fleet - Flag Group
Attached to Battlegroup Kenobi
ANV Ouroboros - Bastion System; Orbit

"Bomber assault failed. The entire group...Its gone."

A solemn shroud fell over the bridge as a starfighter tumbled and exploded off to port of one of the Ouroboros' cameras, displaying across the view screens that encompassed the internal bridge of the massive dreadnought. The explosion lit up the room with purple light as the vessel's fuel ignited and quickly dissipated into a lavender haze. Another TIE pilot dead protecting the Ouroboros. The Sith's last probe into the defensive line had ended with all of the star destroyers entrusted to him to be destroyed. The Alliance was, essentially, on its own. The lone Redeemer-class battlecruiser escort remained and even it was taking a beating from enemy turbolaser fire and starfighters.

"Sir, Sovereigns are coming back around for another attack!" There weren't any other ships in the way like there had been last time. It was just him and them.

"Activate Xythan Force Shields! Divert power from tertiary shield systems to main Xythan shields, full power forward! Brace for impact!" There was a hint of panic in the young Admiral's voice. There was a visible shimmer as the tertiary deflector was brought down, opening them up to attack for a moment. Opportunists saw this and a flight of Sith TIES raked the dorsal armor with a barrage of laser cannon blasts causing no more than cosmetic damage to the outer hull. Alarms blared regardless as animated metal sealant and repair drones moved to fix the superficial damage.

"Five seconds to impact!" Pryce gripped his armrest, nails biting into the fine material of the seat.

"Missiles incoming! Scans say baradium!"

"C'mon..." Pryce muttered.

"Point Defense missile octets firing to intercept!"

By the Force this was cutting it close. There was another shimmer and the true defensive bulwark of the Ouroboros came to life. The Sith attack slammed into the Ouroboros' shields with a short flash of green that filled the bridge. There were two moments of nothing and then the six dreadnought cracking pillars of green energy were flung straight back into the six battlecruisers. The baradium missiles were another issue though. Xythan force shields were great for energy-based assaults, if a little costly on the reactor. It was why Pryce typically kept only his tertiary shields up. Standard deflector technology worked better in coordinated fleet engagements. But once again he was shown the foresight of REC tech.

"How are we doing on those missiles?!" As if in response the entire bridge was blinded by a white light so brilliant it blotted out the sun. The cameras immediately dimmed to compensate but the damage had already been done, the bridge was in a panic as the dozens of baradium missiles collided with the point defense missiles of the Ouroboros, stopping the deadly weapons in their tracks but detonating their collective payloads far out in space. They could defend against this. A dreadnought was nothing to laugh at. They were designed to take on entire fleets on their lonesome and were some of the most powerful warships in the Galaxy. But even the Ouroboros wasn't invincible.

"Xythan shields down 30%! Recharging sequence in process!" They reflected energy. Sometimes in tests it seemed to reflect an unlimited amount of it back, but that was a foolish assumption. They could only handle so much. He was still shocked the combined assault of-

Another blast rocked the ship, a second volley of a similar weapon that was also launched back.

"Xythan shields down another twenty percent! We're lucky there was a delay. We'd recouped about 20% before that hit." Lucky indeed. He cursed.

"Sir, we're seeing another rad spike! Its- I don't belive it! Sir! Its the Alliance!" Cheers went made waves across the bridge as one after another Alliance vessels began dropping out of hyperspace behind the Sith formation. If they played their cards right they could manage a pincer maneuver. Between the bulwark of the Ouroboros and the keen minds of the Alliance navy there was hope.

​

Third Sector Fleet - Rapid Response Flotilla
Attached to Battlegroup Kenobi
ANV Omachron - Bastion System

Vice Admiral Grek watched as the blue tunnel of hyperspace faded, star lines reverting to pinpricks of light in the distance as the Omachron dropped out of hyperspace. They had received the reinforcement call what felt like ages ago and now he fully understood why.

"This is..." There gasps from across the bridge. The Zygarian commander growled, his ears pulled back and his lips curled in a snarl. Treacherous Sith. They had no honor. The size of this fleet dwarfed any previous engagement with them so far. Now he understood though why the Stygian campaign progressed as it did. The SIth obviously thought the New Imperial Order was the true threat, putting all of its resources into these conflicts. Commander Grek tapped a clawed finger on the armrest of his command chair. The rest of the fleet was materializing around him, a much more balanced and nuanced tool than that of the Sith before them, though he was starting to wonder if that would make a difference when compared to the bluntness and size of the hammer the Sith had brought down on Basiton.

Starfighters launched before the jump screamed at the Sith fighter formations and there was no need to call for an attack. Immediately the turbolasers of the fleet began firing on the rear of the Sith armada, catching a few smaller ships off guard and claiming early kills. Grek licked his lips. First blood. His feline eyes watched as the battle unfolded around them as he searched for a sign of the enemy flagship. He found what he was looking for in the massive blip on the tactical. The Gorgon. He looked to the GA forces. Including his own, the fleet assembled had 3 other Starhawks in play. This...Could work.

"Order the other Starhawks to form up on the Omachron. Tell the crews of the Indelible 6 and Strikefast to move forward and prepare for the execution of a Marg Sabyl. We're going to make an opening for the Ouroboros." As he spoke the advanced droid brain began drawing up tactical to send to the other officers, a simulation of the battle plan, a copy also being sent to the Ouroboros. This wouldn't turn the tide of the battle but it might be the push the New Imperials and the Ouroboros needed to start a true counter-attack.

"Corvettes are standing by!" Grek quirked an eyebrow.

"Tell them to launch! They should have been in the air as soon as we got here!"

​

Third Sector Fleet - Corvette Squadron
Attached to Battlegroup Kenobi's ANV Omachron
ANV Kakarot - Bastion System

Captain Diseyakes was lounging with his feet on the dash when the ping came in.

All Corvettes are to launch immediately. Screening duty only.

The captain groaned. Was this forever to be his calling? Screening duty? How was he supposed to show off his skills if he was stuck blasting eyeballs dumb enough to tango with a corvette?

"Oh hush," came the voice of his co-pilot as she entered the cockpit. "Screening isn't all that bad." She leaned over his chair, the smell of her intoxicating perfume curing any melancholy from his mind. Stars was she beautiful. She seemed to notice his attentions and smirked before plopping down in the seat next to his, beginning pre-flight systems checks.

"Looks like we're all ready to go," she said. "Gunners are in their place too. We're all yours Captain." Diseyakes nodded and hissed out a breath between clenched teeth.

"Here we go then..." The thrusters roared to life and the Kakarot joined the fray.

​

​

 

[Rurik Fel]

M A N _ O F _ I R O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LORD EXECUTOR
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
Iron Skin | Lightsaber

WE ARE ONE
Bastion Orbit…
NIV Antares Draco | Pellaeon IV-class Star Destroyer

​

The Seventh Fleet, the Hand of Vengance, the Imperator’s own will made manifest in heavy metal superimposed in the savage void had arrived. The scape beneath was a foreboding sight. Without doubt, it was to be expected that the Sith would return. They would not let their defeat in this very same world and another full scale strategic offensive go unanswered, such was not their nature.

A nature which he had dissected time and time again.

The entrance was abrupt, unannounced, with no fanfare or anticipation to accompany it, the interdiction engines of the NIV Warpstorm ripped Rurik and his vessels from the starlit void with a silent pull. What was once a starfield had now become the Empire’s vengeance made manifest once again.

Star Destroyers continued their foreboding crawl as corvettes and starfighters fired out ahead of the main formation as Rurik’s own task force veered toward the surface of the world. Just as the battle above required relief so too did the efforts in Ravelin.

Their nature...was far...far too predictable.

Rurik stood at the command bridge of the Star Destroyer, full enclosed in his panoply of war with the off white cloak draped over his form.

“There is no sign of the Imperator, sire. He-.” The captain began to spoke and his superior thwarted any attempt to continue.

“I am the Imperator’s will where he is not...we will not worry of him...and he will not worry of us. The Sith have again to dash themselves bloody against Bastion. They send them all, captain. Every last one of those witches and parasites. They can crack the world asunder if they wish...but the Empire will stand today. We will not yield. Nothing.”

“Sire-.”

“Command of all naval assets be diverted to the Admiral Var Koon, the reins are his.”

“Understood...and if you are conceding naval command then-”

It was time.
​

Two death troopers joined his flanks as he made way from the command bridge, the steely gaze of frigid death painted his eyes as he made way to the hangar bay of the NIV Antares Draco. He stood before them for a moment, speaking only once in address to the Imperator's own.

"No Sith leaves Ravelin. End them."​

The 501st were quick to clamor to their stations, to equip themselves of the panoplies of devastation of which they'd make war on the Sith moving snatch the beating heart of the Empire they'd crafted through blood and toil. They'd make no ground today. Conquer as much broken earth as they'd like, the Empire would not falter today.

The Sith Empire arrived.

The Man of Iron would bend it until it breaks.

TIE Fighters, Interceptors and bombers launched rhymically from the hangar bays of Rurik's destroyer, falling in line with the dropships, gunships and transports who burned with their full dedication to engine power toward Bastion's surface. They'd be left open to the flak, the Sith fighters that tangled for air and space superiority. But that didn't matter. The less time these parasites had to latch themselves unto the beating heart, the more swiftly they could be ripped off and abandoned to their long coming sacred silence. Rurik arrived in the burning streets of Ravelin, but he'd left the battle above to his counter part in Lucien Dooku , the Man of Iron sought the depths.

A festering rot congealed beneath Ravelin.

The Iron Sun would rise to burn it all away.

VENGEANCE​

3...​

2...​

1...

The door breaking charge congealed and burst through the metal entrance way into the horrid, dank corridors of Bastion's underbelly.

<"Form up! We have engagement!"> One of the Sith troopers shouted out. A section of them coalesced in the corridor, readying their rifles and repeaters to focus down the tunnel's sole entrance.

The smoke began to settle and a silver blade ignited in the thick air. Immediately, the Sith section began to open fire, a hail of crimson bearing down on the figure in the center of the doorway. The heavy repeater bearing a brunt of the burden was pulled in the direction of the saber before clamoring violently to the floor beneath and slowly, the Man of Iron began his approach. Each round and burst of blaster fire, deflected with his cohesive and fluid flow of the argent saber blade that accompanied each foreboding step forward. The nearest was the first to be felled, a clenched fist, his organic hand reaching out and willing him from the floor with a violent pull into the air, a clench of his fist siphoning the life from his lungs with a horrid choking claw for the last breaths of life.

He was felled finally with a swipe of the saber blade along his stomach, ending him.

With his heavy, meticulous, one armed cuts and swings, the rest of the section in the corridor were felled with his iron brutality. The first stretch was clear...but the rot crept much farther along than this mere segment. A section of Death Troopers followed his shadow, funneling past him and into the tunnels as he continued his slow, foreboding approach. Behind them, a pair of flame troopers charged their weapons entering the corridor alongside the Iron Executor.

"No Sith leaves Ravelin...no quarter, no mercy. Only the reckoning. Forward."​

The few remnants of Sith defiance which clamored for their last grasp at life were soon wrought unto the blaze, the horrid shrieks and screams of death bellow above of the waves of flame that consumed them. The stench and horrid envelopment of the sacred silence overtaking these futile souls with each swipe of the flame.

He willed his retinue of Demon Company and the Death Troopers ahead of it. His only command being what he stated prior.

No Sith would be allowed to live.

No enemy would be offered quarter.

All the while, Rurik sought out the scions of the Empire, his Imperial Knights.

Anything concerning naval stuff will be addressed in Var Koon or Maynard Treicolt post​

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | Ryv | Tulan Kor | DT-7343 'Jabber' | Jin Kyrel | Hans Rennagen | Romi Jade | Agrrur'arr | Darth Assimilus | Areyon | Dorian Sicarrio | Elicia Hejaran | Jaeger Harrsk | Aaran Tafo
ENEMIES | TSE | CIS | Darth Vulcanus | Xeykard | OPEN TO SCRAP

​

 

[Ryv]

S W O R D _ O F _ T H E _ J E D I
GALACTIC ALLIANCE
NEW JEDI ORDER
Strike Team Skywalker
LIGHTSABER

"ALERT! ENEMY PERSONNEL DISCOVERED IN ENGINEERING. ALL AVAILABLE SECURITY TEAMS RESPOND. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. REPEAT. THIS IS NOT A DRILL!"​

Ryv tore his attention away from Ripley and turned to the same terminal he'd used throughout their trip. He hurried over, slamming his fist down to activate the temple's intercom.

"Belay that order!" Ryv called out. "Regroup outside of engineering and await for Master Varobalder's arrival. We've nearly arrived. Hold on just a bit longer!"

Aelys' arrival at his side carried a certain strength the kiffar hadn't felt before. To have someone so willing to follow him, to trust him entirely, there was no greater feeling. Ryv knew the New Jedi Order would stand with him, but it was a distant thing. His position as the Sword separated him from the others. They knew the pain he felt, isolated, locked in a neverending war for a brighter tomorrow. There would be no rest. When the Sith Empire fell, he would seek out another evil to protect them from. Even when peace finally came to the galaxy, there would always be something lurking in the shadows, waiting for its chance to strike. It was his responsibility to stand firm and keep them safe.

His Padawan didn't care about the title. Aelys intended to stand beside Ryv upon every battlefield, no matter the cost. The young Jedi radiated a strength all his own. One the Sword had already come to rely on.

Ryv looked to Aelys following Asmundr's decree.

"We're gonna make an opening for the push, kid. When you see it, don't hesitate. Make sure our boys get to the ground safe and sound," he pivoted on his heel, walking backward as he spoke. "I'll see you on the ground."

Never in for an easy time, Ryv looked back to Ripley, his earlier smile replaced by the stoic mask adorned by the Sword in times of emergency. There was so much more he wanted to say, with so little time to do it. Why couldn't this have waited? He wanted to hear her answer. Did she feel the same about him? Everything they'd done together, no matter how silly, had returned something precious, stolen away by a war he had no choice in fighting. His smile meant something again. Every memory reminded him why he took up the fight in the first place. The Sith threatened this feeling. Tyranny followed them—trillions of deaths throughout the kiffar's lifetime alone. It was all to snuff out the hope that carried the galaxy through the most trying of times.

He turned to make for the exit, though his gaze was drawn back to the beautiful zeltron he held only moments before. Without a second thought, the Jedi Knight pivoted and moved towards her. He stepped up, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her against his chest—no words needed to be said. That answer he wanted? It could wait. Ryv wanted this more. He wanted to feel her against him, her lips interlocked with his. Neither of them could control what Bastion had in store for them. All he could do was make the best of what very well could be their last moment together.

Ryv pressed his lips against hers, hunger evident in his touch. He remained there for far longer than he should have, the seconds ticking by, but he couldn't find it within himself to stop. He leaned into the kiss, his hand crawling up her back to entwine itself with her deep-blue hair. He cupped the back of her neck and held her in place, his eyes closed, the world of Bastion, alongside the chaos all around them, momentarily forgotten.

When he finally broke for air, he looked her in the eye and smiled. "I'll see you on the other side."

​

A rapid series of chirps, beeps, and whirs assaulted Ryv the instant he stepped foot into the hangar. His rambunctious BD unit, Big Chieftain, wobbled atop his X-Wing, precariously balanced along the side of the cockpit. Ryv could only smile up at the little droid. Some things didn't change.

"I'm here, little dude, I'm here!" Ryv didn't bother with the ladder, opting to leap up into the cockpit instead. The Chieftain hopped down onto his lap as he slid into the seat. It didn't let up in its melodic beeping. "Yes, I know I'm late- Yes, buddy, I know! We're all late! Something down in engineering delayed us, but only a few minutes," another round of chirps followed. "Of course, that means we're gonna do something stupid. I promised Rurik I'd be there, so I'm gonna be there. It'll just be one hell of a trip down. Hold on tight!"

Ryv slid the safety restraints over his chest while the cockpit lowered overhead. He flicked up on one of the small levers. "Saber-Two is live. Sorry for the wait, Outrider, but I'm good to go."

As if on queue, the iridescent blue tunnel of hyperspace fell away. The blast door slid away to reveal the New Imperial Order's fleet entangled with Sith-Imperial ships just outside of the planet's atmosphere. Ryv's X-Wing shifted beneath him. It slowly rose from the hangar floor, hovering a good fifteen feet in the air. Before his disappearance following the first siege of Bastion, Ryv claimed the illustrious title of Saber-Three. He wasn't the first, nor the second into the fray. He lacked Maynard and Loske's abilities in an X-Wing cockpit, but it never kept him away from the fight. Now, he fell in behind Maynard. Only the Concordian knew what the Sword had concocted to break through the spaceborne battlefield.

"I'd say I'm counting on you, Outrider, but you already know that," Ryv said. He gripped the sticks and pushed forward. His X-Wing lurched after Maynard's, shooting out into the cold vacuum of space. Sith-Imperial starfighters raced just ahead, chasing a lone TIE-Fighter separated from its squadron.

Ryv zipped out wide, his attention locked on the planet. The assassin droid's delay put their arrival back several minutes. More than enough time for Rurik's drop ship to clear the battle and begin its descent.

"I see an opening. I'm breaking formation," Ryv reported before his ship's nose dipped low and dove towards the planet's surface at an alarming speed. The X-Wing shot through a battered hull faster than any bolt could travel, no more than a blur to the naked eye. Other fighters aimed, some even gave chase, but the Jedi Knight paid them no heed. He yanked right on the sticks, redirecting his ship from the straight dive to veer through the remnants of a star destroyer. Bodies floated aimlessly through space. The massive ship was no more than a drifting graveyard, home to rubble, scrap metal, and death.

A series of explosions behind him brought a smile to his face.

"Amateurs," he passed beneath a T-shaped chunk of metal while shifting his course back on track. He saw himself through the fleet battle above, only to feel gravity's pull yanking his ship down faster. Other fighters roared by him, some manned by New Imperials, others Alliance personnel. He hailed the nearest with a wave. "How long until we reach our point of entry, Chief?" Ryv asked the droid. It hopped once on his lap. "Really? That's not gonna cut it. How can we cut that time in half?"

The Chieftain tilted its head to the side in confusion.

"Oh, I know what we're gonna do," he grinned. "We're gonna skip landing altogether."

BD-8 straightened in shock, its entire body trembling at the kiffar's declaration. Ryv could only laugh at the gesture. The droid understood his reckless nature better than anyone else. On more than one occasion, it witnessed the half-assed ace's attempt at flying. It never got better.

"This is where the fun begins, buddy," he winked at the droid before pushing down hard on the sticks. The X-Wing shook all around them, glowing red-hot from the crazed descent towards the surface. It left a trail of smoke in its wake, visible from miles around. Anti-air weaponry shifted around while Sith-Imperial starfighters moved after Ryv's starfighter. Much like higher above, he paid them no more attention than he had to. He yanked left on the sticks, rolling the ship just out of reach of the first shot discharged from the surface. The ship repeated the motion a second time, rolling back to the right to compensate for another round of explosions where he was a split-second before. The fighters behind him fell further back, forced away by the anti-air guns trained on the Jedi's craft.

"Haha! Woohooo!" Ryv damn near jumped from his seat in his excitement. "We're approaching the hot zone, baby! Don't let up on the gas. We're almost there! I know you can do it!" he patted the dash as he spoke, unfazed by the swarm of shots from below.

The ground grew closer at an alarming rate. He trained his gaze on a massive, double-doored turbolift that led down into the tunnels beneath Ravelin. Sith-Imperials surrounded it, the defensive position impenetrable from all but a sizeable force. Red-armored soldiers pointed up at the rapidly descending X-Wing, shouts of alarm sounding throughout their small encampment. They took aim and fired up at the ship. Some found their mark, barely scratching the fighter's hull. Perhaps another hundred shots from the infantry may have done something more than scuff his fighter's paint job.

"You wanna see some damage, boys? I'll show you some damage," Ryv loosened the restraints pressed against his chest. Slicing away one side, he wrapped it around the sticks, locking them in place, full-speed ahead. Scooping up in the Chieftain in one hand, he cracked the transparisteel bubble above him and jumped up and out of the cockpit. The ship continued forward while Ryv lagged behind, still on course with the turbolift. BD-8 couldn't help itself. It let out a dozen or more curses in the span of the six-seconds it took for the X-Wing to crash into the turbolift and blow it open in a thunderous crash of flame and debris. He tucked the droid behind his right arm, raised his left arm up to ward away the flame, and passed through the destructive inferno shortly thereafter.

If not for the force, he would've splattered against the earthen walls that made up the shaft leading down. He took a deep breath, his mind centered, body prepared. His speed slowed just enough for the impact to only knock the wind from him when his body finally made contact. The kiffar pushed off the wall as they began to fell, reaching out for a thick electrical cord attached to the wall. He held tight and slid down the length of the lift behind a thick layer of smoke and dust tossed up from the force of his ship's arrival.

"Pretty cool, huh, little dude?" Ryv asked the droid with a smile. It looked up at him, craned its neck, and slammed its head against the Jedi Knight's already sore chest. "What?! What was that for?!" It shook its head, still trembling in the crook of his arm. "I'd never let anything happen to you, Chief. You don't have to be scared."

They descended the remainder of the way in silence, Ryv's mind on the approaching battle. Rurik was already down there. The kiffar could feel the Lord Executor's stalwart presence as he hacked and slashed through Sith-Imperial loyalists. Ryv should've been down there already. That damned assassin droid kept him away from the fight, but not long enough. He released the cording a few dozen feet from the floor and fell the rest of the way through smoke and shadow.

Knees bent, he impacted the ground, another plume of dust rolling out from where he made contact. He unclipped his saber from his belt and activated it. The viridescent blade surged forth in the familiar snap-hiss. A flick of his wrist saw the turbolift's emergency control panel sliced in half. The door swung open in a wave of gray smoke. Ryv stepped from within, saber held to the side, the black hood of his robes thrown over his head.

​

Allies | GA | NJO | NIO | Rurik Fel | Lucien Dooku
Enemies | TSE | CIS

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: O U T _ O F _ L U C K //:
//: Location //: Tunnels //:
//: Objective //: Survive //:
//: Aaran Tafo //:

Quinn paused as he explained the patrols. It was curious for him to help her, but she decided to take it in stride. There was a possibility that he wanted to do something right before he went off to slaughter the other Sith. She waited for him to continue to talk; it seemed like he had a lot to get off his chest. A hand rested against her chin as she waited for him to give her the all-clear; her mind continued to open up, trying to sense other beings in the area. The tension was easy to pick up on, but Quinn didn’t enjoy the feeling starting to surface. ​

Closing her mind, she looked over at Aaran as he introduced himself. He was pretty honest, but Quinn wasn’t going to be. Not only was he labeled an enemy, but he was also someone she didn’t know. The last time she introduced herself to a Jedi - he quickly attacked her. Her attention turned her head away from him as she spoke, “Adri Sisko.” Musing over the long title that he had given her, she remarked, “Not sure who Wyatt Morga or which Jedi Order you might have belonged to, but spacer seems like a good descriptor if you’re no longer with them.” ​

The princess wanted to leave as soon as possible, if sources were right - most Jedi that fought alongside the Imperials tended to be more violent than the Conclave. “I like spacers; they’re interesting people with interesting stories; too bad we met like this Aaran Tafo, former padawan turned spacer.” A small smile while she looked over her shoulder and winked at him. “Pity, but I think our time together is over.” She needed to get going before he decided his kindness had a limit. Quinn started to walk in the direction she came and used the cover of the shadows. ​

Quinn knew that the Jedi could end up following her, and she hoped he didn’t; the last thing she needed was to have a tail that called attention to her as she tried to escape.​

 

[Ragnar the Blooded]

Location: Ravelin, Bastion
Equipment: Saberstaff, Imperial Knight Armour
Proximity: Iasha Rha , Dimitri Voltura, Kesran Opadal , Luna Terrik , Kolson Vrask , Noel Strasza
Engaging: Alina Tremiru

The woman hit the ground, tucking herself into a roll. Ragnar, as he rotated, painted the street around them in the harsh light of the indiscriminate flame. Confident in the surprise trick, he stepped forwards, to keep up the intense attack. There was a draw to the intensity of the emotions that she channeled, bringing him close to an edge that had once been familiar.

No!

The flamethrower cut off, his foot dragging back as he took a half step back.

The sporadically leaping flames and embers made it difficult to see what was happening. The fire was hard on the eyes, and he could smell the invasive scent of fabric burning. The flames leapt at him. Lifting his saberstaff vertically, it cut through her robes that had caught flame, splitting them off to either side of him harmlessly. The calm glow of his orange orbs gradually becoming more and more intense as the fight went on.

Taking his first step closer into the slash, he had decided on closing in on her. Before that first step hit the ground, the call of the Force grew quieter. The near constant presence of the Force diminished to little more than a whisper, akin to a ghost rather than the constant companion in his ear, that he knew it as.

She raised something at him, a blaster! His foot hit the ground, almost instantly finding balance as his face flinched to the side instinctively as the pistol spat out its deadly energy. The second and third shots took him fully in the upper chest. They were met with the highly conductive materials of the Imperial Knight armour. Cortosis woven into the armour, the blasters energy dispersed and then he was on her.

"I'll end you." Ragnar muttered. The girl, the Sith, represented more to him than she could ever known. She was Sith, as he had once been. To defeat her, to kill her, would mean ending his past, putting it behind him once and for all.

Ragnar's right hand shot forth, in an attempt to close around the pistols barrel and squeeze. The crushgaunt technology that lined the forearms and gauntlets of his armour, gave him the strength to potentially crush it. His left hand jabbing forwards with the still actively thrumming staff, to stab at the centre of her being.

 

[Vostok Grauv]

Phase -01- Alpha Class Dark Trooper



Vostok Grauv



New Imperial Order



Location: Maximillian Heights; city streets outside residential area, nearby DECEASED Erskine Barran
Allies Tags: Tyrell Paxxus | Jaeger Harrsk | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rika Hiro | Enedina Tal | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Djorn Bline | Willan Tal
Opposition: TSE | CIS | Lark

Post #4

< //DAMAGE SUSTAINED! INTERNAL BLEEDING PRESENT! LUNG FUNCTION: 90% EFFICIENCY// >
​

It was happening again; that old familiar feeling. The very same dull ache that had been present for years, coming back to visit an old friend. Fires raged around Vostok as he struggled to catch his breath, steel-like fingers digging into fragmented concrete as he shakily forced his body upright. As his vision became less obscured, he saw just how many NIO men and women had fallen - Sithspawn and Sith-Imperials alike blanketing them, layers of bodies transforming the ruptured and torn streets into a graveyard. Soot and blood stained the lone Dark Trooper as he observed in silence, allowing the momentary relief from combat to regain his composure, all the while listening to artillery a couple blocks away from his position.

Here he stood, among his own and foe alike; some with faces twisted by terror, others with eyes that felt as if they still cradled life - embers of a spirit defiant to the bitter end. Though the veteran felt next to nothing emotionally, a small part of him felt a kind of guilt for those he could not assist. Swaths of unnecessary casualties that held no part in this war, for what? So that the Sith may prove a point? They armed their men, women, and children to the teeth and pointed the finger. They lie with promises of prosperity, yet kneel to tyrants and madmen.

They'd sooner shield their fragile bones with the meat of their delusional servants than boast honesty; and for that, the truth would be crushing. Heavy is the weight of an empire, and no longer could its defenders and zealots support it.

"Punished Hound...to...Blue-Heart Alpha, massive casualties sustained; carrying on with current designation, I'm not done yet. See you soon, Punished Hound out. "

Rifle at the ready, the lone Hound took each step with extreme caution, his breathing becoming a wheeze as he began coughing; the taste of copper present upon his tongue, almost seeming like a morbid refresher as the viscous hybrid of saliva and blood coated Vostok's mouth. An eerie stillness and absence of life became troubling, combined with a limited scope of vision due to sheer pollution and smoke. < //SCANNING... UNKNOWN LIFE DETECTED// >

Sudden movement shifted behind Vostok, his advance ceasing as he leveled his optic and turned around, forcing himself to remain silent even as a sharp pain was building within his torso. A sickening growl and the breaking of bodies was heard just beyond a veil of fog; Vostok knew what was just ahead of him - howls piercing the air and harmonizing among each other.

Fresh meat had arrived.

Aim steady, he waited for it.

Music​

​

 

[Auteme]

Cara Dorniarn ​

Auteme had never seen such an ability up close; she was very nearly too close as her momentum almost carried her into the sudden wall of stone that had rose in front of her. The arrowhead cut off her escape and she was forced to turn around to face the woman. So much for looking after the gardens...

With her back against the wall, she was starting to think she wouldn't be able to heed his other advice, either. So much for not being naïve.

"You already wasted your chance to flee, and I fear there is no reimbursement for that-"

"But you haven't wasted yours," she interrupted. Her eyes narrowed, studying the woman, looking past the armor. She'd met a few Sith; most had had the intention of killing her. Given her occupation she couldn't entirely blame them. Still, each time she'd met one, there was a sort of weight they carried. The likes of Prazutis and Carnifex were akin to black holes. Endlessly dark, beyond comprehension, beyond redemption. Others were as raging stars, their intense emotions like currents of power released into the void.

But this woman had nothing. She lacked hate towards Auteme herself, nor the cold conviction and emptiness of some others. Twice now the woman had stated she had no intention of killing Auteme. This was not a Sith, not in the true sense. And so there was far more light. Far more hope.

Given the chance, Auteme filled the silence; she poured the weight and emotion into her words, enough to give the woman pause. She hoped. "My name is Auteme Denko-Durren. I'm a Jedi Knight. The last time I was here, a battle raged just the same as this one," she said. "If I had to guess, I'd say you were there, too."

She tended to get lucky with her guesses.

"I admit, I don't know enough about battles or tactics or war to know who will win. But I don't think it matters -- all that's gained today is more pain. More death. You've told me you don't want to kill me, and I certainly have no intention of killing you. You know I'm telling the truth, given how naïve I am.

"You can stop contributing to the cycle. You can leave this place. The last time I was here? I met a man named Aerarii Tithe, who was once a Sith-Imperial bureaucrat and governor. I promised him that I would help him build a new life in Alliance space, vouch for him where I could, and ensure his safety. Now he's the Vice Chancellor of the Alliance.

"I know it seems like a slim chance, but I also think you know I'm telling the truth. The Sith are starting to fail. I can get you out. No strings attached."

She took a tentative step forward. The pain in her gut hadn't quite disappeared, but nonetheless her expression and intent was genuine.

There was hope.

 

[Zakaria Black]

Zakaria Black
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
B A S T I O N

​

| Location | Residential Sector, Ravelin
| Proximity | Enlil / Onansi of Thyrsus /

Zakaria swung his rifle, wielding it like a bat as the grip/butt end of it smashed into the helmet of a hostile soldier that had managed to get close enough. The towering man would send the foolish trooper to the ground as he pressed his foot into their stunned soldier's chest, pinning them down to the ground as he swiftly flipped his rifle so that the muzzle was pointed at the cracked helmet before putting a pair of blaster bolts through them. Several blaster bolts would whizz past him as he raised an arm up as if to shield his face, an invisible barrier taking a smattering of rounds before suddenly bursting. Zakaria would raise his rifle back up as several Stormtroopers moved up and returned fire, the general shouting out, " Hold your ground men! We must buy time for the evacuation operations to complete and reinforcements to arrive. STAND TALL! "​

​

There was no end to them as Zakaria held fast, bodies of Sith and New Imperial Troopers littering the streets as he continued a slow and steady retreat backwards. The line had to be held so that the civilians in the sector he had been tasked with keeping clear alongside the Forty-Ninth Assault Legion could be evacuated to safety. The structures had been cleared as Zakaria shouldered his rifle and took aim as several Sith Imperial troops rounded the corner into the street, his first burst of rounds dropped one of them, the Galidraanian dropping down as return fire came his way. Additional troops began to appear as a larger force began to advance on his position as he shouted back at his troops, " What's the status on the charges? " One of the stormtroopers knelt down next to him with a commpack would raise a hand up to their helmet to listen in before turning back to Zakaria, " Devastator Actual is set General. We are clear to pull back to the next position. "​

​

Zakaria nodded as he reached down to his belt and grabbed a detonator off of it, leaning back from a crouched position as he cocked his arm back and pressed his thumb to the activation button before chucking it across the gap that spanned the two opposing sides, the thermal detonator warbling loudly and rapidly as it rolled in front of the incoming hostiles and detonating. Zakaria would bark orders at his troops and wave at them to begin pulling back towards the next fallback position, putting on a convincing retreat as a tank appeared behind the columns of advancing Sith Troopers. The enemy tank would open fire as a tank shell detonated not too far from Zakaria, the force of the blast sending him flying a few meters as he rolled.​

​

The wind had been knocked out of him as he found himself laying on his back, his visor cracked as he stared up at the smoke-filled sky above Ravelin. A harsh cough would result in blood being splattered on the insides of his helmet as he felt his world spinning. The Galidraanian grunted as he turned and rolled himself over and got on his hands and knees, a piece of large shrapnel having found itself embedded through his armor; there was far too much at stake for him to die. Ravelin must stand, a symbol of defiance against the hordes of the Sith Empire, the ember that burned bright in the dark.​

​

His vision was hazy as he groggily got to his feet, a hand gripping the piece of shrapnel protruding from his midsection, blood trickling down his armor as he gritted his teeth and ripped it free with a grunt of pain, tossing it off to the side as he held his hand over the wound, his suit actively working to repair the breach as the internal systems began to patch him up. He looked up to the sky once more as several Stormtroopers moved to aid their wounded general. The smoke would begin to clear as they appeared to be surrounded by enemy troops, Sith Imperials taking aim as they began to close in, an officer shouting at them, " You have lost! Lower your weapons and surrender. " The stormtroopers accompanying Zakaria would step back, surrounding their commanding officer as they looked around, seeming ready to fight to the death as Zakaria raised his free hand up and spoke, " Stand down... "​

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Sith Imperial Troopers would begin to surround them and close in as they moved to relieve Zakaria and his troops of their weapons. Zakaria grit his teeth as he glanced around, eyeing the hostiles around him before the comms in his helmet flared to life, " Reinforcements have arrived, I repeat, reinforcements have arrived! The Lord Executor has made landfall! " The Sith troopers paused as they looked to the sky, the sight of New Imperial vessels and a fresh wave of troops distracting them as Zakaria glanced around to see his troopers looking back at him, the Galidraanian nodding as he took the time to make a move, his troopers following suit as they lunged forward and grabbed at the nearest Sith Imperial troopers.​

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Zakaria would headbutt the soldier in front of him, dazing the man as he wrapped his arm around their necks and twisted their body around, kicking at the back of their knee as they were forced to the ground, the general reaching for his sidearm as he swiftly put a round into the enemy as the initial wave of surprise gave Zakaria and his men the window they needed to shift their current situation around. The tides of battle had shifted, the arrival of reinforcements filling the general with renewed vigor. Now was the time to reorganize and push back the Sith.​

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