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

[Ripley Kühn]

:// POST III | Ravelin, near Maximilian Heights//:
:// ALLIES: GA | NIO | Enlil //:
:// ENEMIES: TSE | CIS | Lark //:
:// EQUIPMENT: ARMOR | LIGHTSABER //:​

The battlefield was chaos. Around her, soldiers fell like leaves in the trees in autumn. Only one crossed her path, others too wrapped up in their relentless attacks to notice her lone sprint. Her blade met him in a flurry of blows, before arching down to sweep him off his feet. Another flurry came, until the blade eventually cut through armor, his light snuffed. Ripley winced as a fireball streaked the sky, lighting his fallen body. She wondered what his family would say when he didn’t return home. Yet she continued on, following the darkness that grew ever closer.

His form was apparent, yet she couldn’t see his face. The zeltron drew a breath, preparing, her approach slowing. She had only faced one Sith head to head, and barely escaped with her life. Ripley knew the power some wielded was unparalleled; it was, after all, the offer that tempted so many. To underestimate him could prove a fatal mistake.

A clattering sounded overhead, her only alert. The knight's gaze flew up, her arm raising instinctively. The falling boulders made her eyes widen. Gray sediment hit her irises, blinding her. In a desperate attempt, she threw herself into a roll, attempting to move from the path of danger.

She wasn’t quick enough. The chunk of stone grazed her foot, and though instinct kicked in and she pulled most of it out of the way, her toes were caught. A curdled distressed shriek escaped her as the bones shattered under the weight. Pain shot up her calf, a sharp agony. Taking a breath, Ripley attempted to steady herself. Involuntary tears streaked her face. She angrily wiped them away before touching her leg. The slightest jolt caused her to wince and pull back.

Another deep breath. She had to get her foot out, had to get up, had to help win this battle. Thoughts raced through her head. Quickly, she grabbed her ankle, and ripped it out from beneath the edges of the rock. Another scream came forth. It bounced off the cliff face, filling the area. Slowly, she rose, grabbing the saber she had dropped in the tumble. Any weight caused an almost unbearable suffering, yet she had to go on. She attempted to shift the weight to her heel, and though her steps were cobbled, it was just enough to take away the stars that danced in her vision.

She once again drew closer to the apprentice. Every nerve in her foot screamed for help, but she couldn’t give up on this battle. The New Imperials needed to hold Bastion, despite everything. Bastion would not fall; she would die before any action she took could be attributed to that. She surveyed at the Sith, his yellow eyes unreadable. Circling clumsily with her crippled foot, she waited for him to take the first strike.

​

 

[Gallius Orcana]

ALLIES | NIO | GA | Rurik Fel | Scourge Harz | Var Koon | Savoh Muska | Naier Rambeigh | Fiolette Fortan | Gordon | Dracken Pryce
ENNEMIES | TSE | EE | CIS | Grand Moff Aut-X | Grand Moff Decimus | Moff Drybis Lyken | Onrai | Thaelius | Seela Leini | Laertia Io


NIV PRIDE OF THE EMPEROR

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
THIRD FLEET

Gallius waited for the terrible collision to come, refusing to close his eyes as the ship reached his maximum speed. He waited a few seconds, then heard a terrible crunch coming from under him. It was at that moment he realized something was wrong. Someone did not act as he thought.
Andso it was : the Sovereign did not stay passive and refused to wait for th impact, tilting up as fast as possible. As such, the bow of the dreadnought was the exposed part of the ship, and the rest of the ship was slowly diving to escape the Cuirassier. And while the dreadnought moved, so did the Cuirassier. The cruiser still had full power on the vertical thrusters.

The cruiser flew up more and more, while the Sovereign tried to adopt a diagonal pose to crash the Pride of the Emperor to its bow. And that helped the Cuirassier. If the Sovereign had remained still, the Cuirassier would have crashed himself on the tiny deck, probably cutting itself in half. But the unexpected movement of the dreadnought gave enough space to the Cuirassier still flying up. The massive armored bow crashed into the rear belly of the cruiser, carving a deep scar into the thick hull, ejecting dozens, hundreds of crewmembers into the void and leaving the artificial atmosphere opened to the coldness of space.

On the deck, Gallius flew backwards and landed on a holocomputer, his right leg breking up at the impact. The officer cried out in surprise and pain, trying to get up and come back to the observation pane. Jax was lying down, his head quickly turning blood red. Many other officers were wounded or knocked off, but the ship was still flying at immeasurable speed. Gallius groaned, and tried to get up again, in vain. He started to lose his nerves, unable to do anything as his crew was struggling to live. With a supreme effort, he managed to put away his right leg, clearing the space for his left one. He screamed as he did so, the shattered rests of his bones scrapinf against one another. He was not far from fainting, he kew it, but he had a duty to live on.

Eventually, a surviving officer came to him and half dragged him to the pane. What he saw was catastrophic : the ship half crumbling under fires, hull deficiencies, and many other problems. With a faint and painful smile, he still muttered a few words.

- At least... We're still flying half a ship, or so... and with that, Gallius allowed himself to slip into the void of unconciousness.

The other officer assumed command of the ship as best as he could, and his orders came quickly to the crew that remained.

- All power to the belly shields ! Isolate the depressurised sections of the ship, evacuate the useless crew. Prepare to deploy the repair teams, and for Zart's sake, call a medical team to the bridge !

The orders were executed as best as possible as the ship overtook the Sovereign at a speed so great that the turrets would stem themselves in trying to follow a distinct spot of the Cuirassier. The shields were also redirected as quickly as possible, preventing the firts hits from tearing the ship apart. They quickly fell, but this was no problem because the Cuirassier was already halfway through. Some hits were taken, but the damages were to be discovered later. The most important thing was to get away, not to destroy the Sovereign.

The imperial cruiser flew past the battleship, finally free. It rushed towards the imperial lines while the medical team arrived on the bridge. Despite the few means at disposal, the doctor used a bacta patch to initiate the healing of Gallius's leg. The captain did not woke up immediately, but he regained conciousness after few minutes during which the ship reached the extreme limit of fire of the Sith ships. The damaged Pride of the Emperor flew between the imperial ships, his hunting board still lit, and the ship finally stopped behind the imperial lines, where he could repair in peace but still be helpful in orbital bombardments.

Gallius painfully managed to get up with the help of an improvised crutch, and observed the magificence of the imperial fleet assembled there. He gave few orders, letting his assistants command the ship. The utmost priority was to repair the ship, starting from the damaged hull and the turbolaser batteries. The wounded crew members were all sorted by wound and importance in the fight to come, and healed according to this sort. Slowly, the shields came back at full power, but the work was still gigantic and the resources scarce.

But this was secondary. As the remaining batteries received the order of bombarding the designated ground HQ of the Sith Legion, and fired massive broadsides towards that landing area, Gallius watched the space battle, and suddenly, smiled for no reason. That savage and bloodlusty expression surprised ths deck officers until they saw what Gallius had perceived.

The Lord Executor was there.

 

[FN-999]

POST: V
OBJECTIVE: I
LOCATION: Fortress Imperator, North Gate (Main 19th formation) / Sith crash site battlefield near the Fortress (319th Line Platoon + 439th Assault Platoon)
EQUIPMENT:

• FN-999: In signature, Reaper Chainblaster
• ST-1121: Armor | Rifle | 5x basic smoke grenades

UNIT: The 19th Stormtrooper Assault Company (see detailed status on tactical map)
ALLIES: NIO Kolson Vrask / Noel Strasza (19th NPCs in physical proximity) | Uriel Tokarev (in radio proximity) | Djorn Bline | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Creuat | Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Tyrell Paxxus | Meko Sorrin | Zakaria Black | Vostok Grauv
HOSTILES: TSE | UX-0626 / Kesran Opadal (Indirectly engaging with NPC units)

The 439th Assault Platoon - ANCHORED AVENGERS
30/30

The 439th followed the path of the 319th at half their pace, with double their noise.
​

As an assault platoon, the 439th carried armaments that were far heavier than ordinary line platoons. Their chainguns, portable machine gun emplacements, rocket launchers, and flamethrowers were excellent weapons for elimination of large groups of enemies through brute force, especially individuals with Force powers. Once the 439th assembled their weapons, even a powerful Sith was vulnerable to the immense volume of firepower the platoon could concentrate.

At the front of the formation stood FN-999, chaingun strapped to his back plate and sword sheathed on his waist belt. He served as the pacesetter, providing an example of strength for the rest of the platoon to follow. With only about two minutes before they entered firing range of their battlefield, FN-999 issued an order determining the position of the platoon.

"Once we reach a segment of the road about fifty meters away from the wreckage with a clear firing range, form a line two troopers thick across the road and assume barrage formation. I'll order the 319th to evacuate soon, but if any friendly units are in between us and their assault, try to aim your weapons away from their general area until they leave."

Then, FN-999 opened up his comms array built into his helmet, opening an encrypted radio frequency that went through to all adjacent New Imperial units.

[All friendly units in the area, this is Captain FN-999 of the 19th Assault Company. The 439th Assault Platoon will soon be entering barrage formation, which could potentially lead to the destruction of a majority of or the entire battlefield around the wreckage of the Sith transport craft approximately 1 kilometer northeast of the northern perimeter of Fortress Imperator. I would recommend evacuating all friendly units from the area within the next two minutes, taking caution to keep the enemy pinned near the wreckage site. Afterwards, the 439th will open fire. May the Imperator's will see us through this battle.]

One minute left.
​

The 439th marched past the intersection that the 319th had under half an hour ago. Two rows of fifteen troopers assembled on the open road, unfurling ten EW-ALE emplacements and activating their frontal composite shields, capable of wrapping around the entire front half of the troopers that would soon man them. It would take about thirty more seconds before the gunners were in position, leaving them vulnerable to enemy flanking fire. Fortunately, FN-999's barrage formation had taken such risks into account. Ten troopers among the second row wielded Harbinger warhead launchers with anti-personnel high-explosive warheads, the launchers having a much faster assembly time compared to the EW-ALEs. Aiming in the gaps between the EW-ALE positions, the troopers targeted the remaining wreckage rubble and surrounding piles of ruin, seeking to maximize shrapnel quantity to further amplify their explosive firepower.

All ten troopers opened fire at the same time, ten rockets soaring towards the wreckage and battlefield at several hundred kilometers per hour, rapidly leaving their smoke trails behind.

The goal of this rocket strike was to distract and soften up the enemy - leaving them no time to evade the machine gun barrage that would come shortly afterwards.

The 319th (Line) Platoon - JUSTICA ETERNO
27/30

ONE MINUTE EARLIER...

Shortly after receiving their captain's order, the 319th broke formation and withdrew.
​

The platoon cut their losses and initiated a tactical retreat, firing several shots and grenades to cover their withdrawal. Those near the Doom Division troopers urged them along as to avoid the incoming strike, troopers who had likely also heard the broadcasts sent by Captain Nines. Yet in their haste, they forgot to find their lieutenant, assuming that he would be personally leading from the center of the force.

ST-1121 rushed through the cloud of his smoke grenade, emerging out the other side roughly a meter away from the Sith trooper who he now recognized as a humanoid female. In such close proximity, melee combat was a necessity. His mind set solely on the Sith trooper, hoping that the rest of the platoon would obey the evacuation order, ST-1121 unsheathed his energy sword and charged forwards. At about half a meter away, he angled his sword outwards and prepared to pierce her back. At such a close distance, he was confident in his kill.

Suddenly, the first rocket struck.

Landing only two meters away, the explosion flung him a meter to the side, nearly a dozen assorted pieces of shrapnel slamming into his armor and pinning him down. As he painfully ripped himself loose of the metal embedded into his skin, a second rocket struck, and then an orchestra of explosions turned the battlefield white.

ST-1121 had overdid it, became overconfident in himself. If he wanted any remaining chance at survival, he would have to disregard the hostile trooper and retreat before EW-ALE fire tore through whatever life remained in the area.

 

[Alina Tremiru]

Ragnar the Untested

Her speed and strength meant nothing if she couldn't hit him, but already she could feel the stress on her body. True Matukai came from a place of light. Peace. She had done well to make it her own, to make it her hate that fueled her power, but her body wasn't used to it. She wasn't like foolish Sith who let their rage and hate control them, but she was still young. The fine line between rage and control was something she still needed to find. And even the slightest bit of frustration threatened to tip that balance.

Alina was injured. From the crash mostly, but the burns on her arm were a constant reminder that this Zabrak's use of tech put him on a level above her. How armor stopped her from even being able to hurt him with her blaster. She was relentless in her pursuit of him, to stay close. Keep him in her skill. Her range. But she couldn't land a punch. He always moved out of the way. She needed to get those gloves she wanted. Maybe with those she'd be able to truly get in her foes guard without worry about their lightsaber.

It wasn't hard to figure out his goal when he dropped. Counter attack, obviously. That unsettling feeling of danger filled her mind again before she twisted to the side, away from his saber hand. Not in time. She was far faster than a human ever could be, but it mattered little. The silver blade burned it's mark on her side, erasing flesh as if someone had taken an eraser to an image of her. The pain was incredible. So too was the anger and frustration. She wasn't strong enough. Her whole life she'd trained herself to keep up with her Force Using rivals, unable to do the same. Not until recently. But even with power she still wasn't on their level?

The deathly calm exploded into rage as she used that twist to swing her leg for the side of Ragnar's head. The momentum she had for her earlier strikes was gone, but she was still fast. These weren't random bursts of speed. No matter how much her body protested what she was doing to herself, she would never stop.

 

[Darth Assimilus]

Tags:
Pom Stych Tivé
​

I felt crazed. Wander through the tunnels still pondering if I could of been able to save those men. They were under my care. Under my wing of protection. As quickly as those thoughts came they were forced into the recesses of my mental plane and into a corner I could not reach. " They knew their duty and they preformed well. They had good death and they will be avenged." With the darkness now gone from the tunnels I could navigate clearly. The tunnels were filled with strange creatures and people. People which wdid not last long under my own assaults', but by the time I reach a series of turns and guided my way along them I came to a stop as a room lit up with eerie colors. The darkness was also inside the corridor but it was somehow contained.

Deactivating my Lightsaber I crouched sneaking my way into the darkness once more. I kept my mind sharp when entering the pool and squinted my eyes to focus. What came to sight was some ritual it looked and several dark beings beginning to move their setup else where. " Going some where Witch?!" I let my voice boom and activated my lightsaber once more. Craddling the blade close to my face. A hate for what I faced was now being portrayed.

" Your power ends here. Now face Judgement!" I barked before rushing forward toward the nearest witch and leader by the look. Pom Stych Tivé . If I had my way I would cleave the witch in two. A lightsaber strike that would bisect her from hip to hip.
It was only after such a move did I hear shuffling in the dark around me.

 

[Elicia Hejaran]

Objective I: Fortress Imperator
Allies: Jaeger Harrsk
Opponents: Tyrell Paxxus

His quickness to lunge at the NIO Grand Vizier stood in stark contrast to what she had observed before their quest into the tunnels. What was once a man stricken by the pessimism born from betrayal was now filled with rage, completely subsumed by tunnel vision. That tunnel vision afforded the opportunity to get one on one with Paxxus, but it didn't absolve him from the intervention of the Vizier's protective detail ready to jump to his defense.

Fortunately for the chainsmoking bureaucrat, Elicia was there.to stop said henchmen.

While their focus was on the brawl, Elicia stealthily crippled their ability to take action. Mindful that these were NIO men, she opted for a non-lethal path forward. Wrist blaster set to stun, the guards at the turbolift collapsed to the ground, paralyzed from further action. The general who appeared to be advising Paxxus on recent developments appeared visibly shaken, a hollow shell of the soldier he likely was in his youth. Approaching him with a similar veracity and quickness as Harrsk's initial flurry of blows, with a firm strike to the abdomen followed up with a blow to the head, the general officer lay still on the ground.

She glanced to ensure the seniors were still fighting and that there were no other guards to tend to. Seeing only the limp bodies of those she neutralized, she kneeled over the sleeping general to pocket his code cylinders. Perhaps they could be of use to her, and if not, maybe COMPNOR might be interested in having some insight into the delirious Grand Vizier or his closest advisors.

Relative freedom from intervention was cut short. The turbolift disappeared from the Vizier's quarters, which meant there was a very real possibility that they would soon have some unfriendly company.

Boys will be boys, but Elicia wasn't interested in facing off against a platoon of stormtroopers or worse. Rushing to the turblolift doors, she plugged in her cybernetics to the access panel to get a clearer picture of the situation and to see if there was anything she could do to slow their company.

As another explosive shockwave shook the building, Elicia let Harrsk know time was running out as as quickly as his quarrel started.

"Harrsk! You may want to start wrapping it up!"

 

[Rurik Fel]

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

IRON
​

<"%F@R!A^G &O#U%T!"> The scrambled vocoder commo of the Death troopers at Rurik's flank sounded out as he continued his bruising approach into the tunnels. There was no hatred. No hatred of the parasites who'd come to sink their fangs into the into the very heart of the Empire. The very vaunted and proud world of which Rurik's own once were Emperors. Once were Galactic sovereigns. They'd defiled it once before with the decrepit stain of Sith rule. The long found delusional dream of a Final Order, a Galaxy brought to its knees at the altar of the Dark Creed. Vaunted in worship of their degenerate death cult.

He didn't hate them.
​

His gaze revealed nothing but the frigid steel, the cold wind of his will. Each swipe of his argent blade was a practiced, measured movement that wrought the death of those before him. A Sith knight approached him brazenly.

"You can't stop the inevitable, Imperial! We'll bring you traitors to your knees! We are Eternal!" He barked out.

When cornered in these pungent halls, what other choice did he have? The Pureblood swiped his crimson saber toward the Man of Iron, who in the clutch of his blade in one hand deconstructed the movement, leaving him open for the Executor's assault.

He could've very well lunged the blade into his chest and ended him rightly. Instead, he willed the argent saber into an accompanying Sith trooped, pinning him into the wall behind him before he wrought his hand before him, coalescing force energy around his closed fist, slamming it into the chest of the knight, the Force energy compiled with his crushgaunt caving in his chest, cracking and shattering the Pureblood's ribs before he reached his hand into the bloodied flesh, leaning in close to speak to the Sith.

"You are nothing..."
​

He spoke close to the Sith's face, seeing the warrior cling to life as his final folly, letting the blood red blade snuff out and clatter to the ground beneath. He let the will of lightning spark and he ignited the Sith's body in a final lapse, ending him immediately. All that was left was the bones, Rurik tossed it aside as refuse and the flame troopers at his flank ignited the remains in fire.

They were nothing.

​

Willing the saber back to his hand he continued the approach down the corridors, more and more of his retinue siphoned off into other directions before soon enough, he was alone. Intangibly, he could feel out and grasp the valiant sons making their stand in these corridors, his knights. They held steadfast and in that moment, he felt vindicated in each of them as he could only assume they felt for themselves. But time was coming down to the wire.

Bridging the gap between each of them, he spoke ethereally.

"We are one. Hold the line. They will be broken here." ​

Rurik says, soon enough the knights cornered by the Sith advance. He approached from behind the Sith as they bared down unto the Knights. His argent saber made purchase into one...another...his advance would be uncompromising, unyielding.

Reaching out to another presence he felt in this corridor, he spoke. To him, to Ryv

"Your father told me I would be the one to each you because I would always do what need be done...and that you would do the same."

"Today...it is time." ​

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 | Other Space Kaiden | Xeykard | Quinn Varanin | OPEN TO SCRAP

 

[Runi Verin]

LOCATION: Ravelin, Bastion
OBJECTIVE: Repel invaders, escape the planet.
GEAR: Vornskr Mk8 Scattergun, Tal Oya’karir, Muun'bajir, Phrik Bracers, Terentatek Duster (Damaged), Asheran Armorweave, Taak’tabi, Nwûl, Tinfoil Hat
ALLIES: NIO (Tangibly)
ENEMIES: Ingrid L'lerim | TSE

She felt her tricopper headband, another constant fixture since Dantooine, grow hot as it struggled to cope with the sudden onslaught of Ingrid's telepathic counter. It was designed to shutdown Force based mentalism, and while this might have shared many similarities, the differences were enough that waves of the empathic assault began to spill past the defenses it otherwise provided.

And yet, as muted and as dulled as they might have been, robbed of their highest notes by the canny outlaw tech device, their shear depth was enough to whip the Kiffar's head back. Half rocking, half stumbling onto her back leg. Volcanic pain in her ribs momentary forgotten as she fought not to drown in the newfound sea of emotion. Her brain scrabbling to comprehend the tectonic shift.

Love.

Love was a complicated concept for Runi Verin. She had never had it as a child; abandoned on the streets of Kol Atorn, forced to scrap, scrape and claw to survive from one day to the next. Too busy to survive to wonder what was missing in life. She suspected the man who had all but dragged her from that hellish existence, the man who's name she wore to this day, had loved her in his own way. Even Jacaro Verin's conflicted paternal love had come with hefty conditions that neither were capable of meeting, however.

Cerita? Now there was a joke. There was an unmistakable sense of affection between the pair, certainly. Often as surprising as it was twisted, but there was little in the way of actual genuine emotional warmth. Their relationship was a matter of convenience, first banding together to survive and then to take revenge, later evolving into a complicated friendship that neither of them were in a hurry to label.

That left the enigma that was Amea Virou . Even the thought of the woman summoning forth a myriad of emotions of what could or might have been if things had been different. If she had been different. Instead Runi had pulled away, too afraid to pursue anything beyond a distant, yet meaningful friendship. Worried that whatever she had felt at the time had been simply a product of their accidental force bond. She had, and perhaps always would be, the closest to actually capturing whatever pitiful excuse beat within Runi's chest.

Yet even that seemed to pale in comparison to the warmth and bitter anguish that was forcefully downloaded into her brain. She was so distracted, caught up in trying to separate it all, she barely even registered the shove. Only a lifetime of training and living with often fluctuating gravity kept her from falling backwards. Her body automatically adjusting even as her brain struggled to keep up. It was all too confusing. As if trying to read a foreign language while attempting to comprehend what an alphabet was at the same time.

"Fierfek," She growled as she clutched at her head with her hand, her expression every inch as conflicted and confused as a homelessman discovering themselves on house arrest. Her brain seeming to surge with agony in synch with her pulse. A battery acid like sensation burning at the back of her throat as she fought to keep her stomach from rising. Struggling to keep herself upright, let alone listen to what Ingrid was rambling about. "You... Karkin'...."

She shook her head again, the sensation causing her vision to swim and that burning sensation to surge a little bit higher before she forced it back down, reflexively swallowing several times as she attempted to string a few more words together in a coherent fashion. Her brow shining with sweat that didn't belong to the fleeting exertion of the fight. Breath coming in quick, ragged bursts. "You want to die so bad? I ain't..."

Urp.

"...I ain't stoppin' you, cheeka." She tossed her blade on to the floor infront of the redhead as if to underline her words. The curved weapon, a matched sister to the one that had killed Adrian, landing point down before clattering loudly on the flagstones. Those dark eyes regarding the weeping several seconds before she started to move past, half-stumble, half staggering as if every footfall was a battle in of itself. "But you can do it yourself. I'm done. Carry your own weight an' face your own ghosts."

Runi had enough of her own to deal with. And now that was on top of whatever had just transpired. The sudden burst of emotion...

"Fierfek." She aptly summed up, "That...Fierfek."

 

[Tyrell Paxxus]

D E A D M A N
FORTRESS IMPERATOR // BASTION
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
GRAND VIZIER
「 H I G H _ C O M M A N D 」

"Who the fuck are you?!" he spat out. "Huh?!"​

Tyrell stood up slowly. He didn't understand the question. Sinew and bone creaked audibly in protest as he slowly forced himself upright. His carriage was eerily still, fittingly, like an upright corpse. Singular eye regarded over the subdued officers, drifting with a jagged stirring up to Elicia. Tyrell's gaze was stony, devoid of even the most subtle sign of life.

What was really left of Tyrell? Aside from his body, what was left of his body, was beyond telling.

Bones bellowed a stiff crackle as his head snapped back toward a charging Jaeger. He braced, catching the charge head-on, locking into a momentarily stalemated struggle of strength with the Commissioner. "This is about Tarkin," he said. It wasn't a question, Tyrell was certain what lit the fuse. Eye contact. Two living mirrors on one cold sphere. "I did what I had to, Jaeger. Bastion must not fall."

Both of his hands gripped down on Haarsk's shoulders, heaving both arms to the left for another toss.

"It is the will of the Imperator: No quarter!"

Jaeger Harrsk | Elicia Hejaran​

 

[Dimitri Voltura]

ALLIES: Luna Terrik | UX-0626 | Iasha Rha | Alina Tremiru | Kesran Opadal

ENGAGING: Halketh ​

OTHER ENEMIES: New Imperial Forces and Allies
GEAR:

Spoiler

Lightsaber
Force Imbued Sith Blade
Force Imbued Cortosis-weave Sith Armour
Pack of 9x Voxyn

UNDONE​

It was dark.

The memories that plagued his opponent was almost akin to his own, even if the man's life was but a glimpse compared to his own. He almost pitied the Imperial before him.

No.

He was much more than a regular New Imperial Soldier fighting a good fight - a puppet dancing to another dictator's strings. He was a fellow slave of Darkness. One that also fed on carnage and despair, death and destruction. He was kin.

Yes! And would you forsake this one as well?

He was ready this time for Anguis' venomous voice in his head, allowing it to roll off him like water from a duck's back. He paid his old master no heed as he extended a hand towards the approaching troopers that were rushing to their lord's side while still upholding his barrier with the other. The flames adhered to his command once again. They raged around the Necromancer harmlessly like water around a boulder, engulfing both his remaining forces as well as some of Dimitri's own Voxyn.

How far you have fallen. A Dragon stripped of his wings.

Dimitri gritted his teeth at the pain these words caused him, despite Eenia's healing touch. He let the fire scorch the earth in it's heat as it burnt with the fury of a star, incinerating anyone in it's path, in an attempt to simultaneously burn away The Snake from his conscience.

Yet he knew it would be in vain.

That voice would plague him for eternity. Would never let him rest. Would never let him find peace. That very voice was the reason he kept donning the dread armour. Kept returning to the carrion fields. An eternity of torment. It was spoken over him centuries ago and it has been proven true ever since, despite his endeavours to cease.

He could sense that the turmoil was similarly building in his only remaining opponent and kin. He could see it start to manifest. The pain this man was feeling was palpable as he threw his helm from his head. It finally made sense as to why it was this Necromancer could follow his movements. He was Miralukan.

He had just noticed this, when his opponent looked him in the eye. In that instance, with the maelstrom of Dark energy around the Miralukan, Dimitri had a good idea what would be coming.
"No...don't!" Dimitri almost cried, the expression on his face that of remorse.

An eternity of torment.

Dimitri's warning was in vain. As the Destruction unfolded from its wielder, the Obsidian Lord harnessed his own Force, fueled by his regret. He expelled the barrier into a mighty Burst that surged forward at the same time, meeting the wave of Destruction head on.

As the two Force waves met, there was a momentary pause as they wove into each other, crackling and building. In that split-second instance, the horror of what he had unleashed, spurred Dimitri into motion. He was fatigued after the energy he had released, yet he pushed his body into a blur of movement all the same, all malice gone from him. His aim - to not forsake another of his kin to impeding doom.

Upon reaching the Necromancer, he was barely in time to throw up another barrier for the two of them before the two collided Force energies erupted in a mighty explosion. The sheer power pressed heavily against the barrier, causing blood to seep from most of his orifices as he gritted his teeth to keep the barrier up. There was but once face that kept him on his feet through it all. To not put an end to the eternity of torment. To be able to face it for another day.

Spoiler: NB OOC NOTE

Due to two Force powers - Force Destruction and Force Burst - colliding, a powerful explosion has erupted on the boulevard toward Fort Imperator. If in the immediate vicinity of Dimitri Voltura or Halketh , please take cover.

 

[Felix Astermo]

Location: Tunnels beneath Ravelin, close to Library "ad hoc entrance to Library basements".
Objective: Recover abandoned artefacts, slay the unworthy strange pyromancer.
Equipment: Sith Warblade, Unspecified Talismans, Glorious Golden Mask.
Writing With: Elpsis Kerrigan

Around the same time, they noticed each other. Battered and bruised, covered in dust and sporting everything jagged cuts to scorched skin, yet still as determined as ever end each other's lives while preserving their own. He had entered battle secure in his victory, but now it all seemed... uncertain.

He could not predict what would happen within the next few moments and he doubted she could either.

Once more proving to be the fastest of the pair, his foe seized the momentum, drawing a pistol and squeezing of a pair of shots - had he still held his warblade, he would have blocked with it rather than strengthen his robes as before. Good thing, steel would do little against weaponised sound.

Despite Aurum's defences, the sheer force of the bolts sent him right back to the ground, earning him further bruises and perhaps a few more broken bones in the process. There was no time to lick his wounds, however, no time to give in to pain or fear - in the heat of battle there was only one good excuse for taking a rest and he was not ready to die just yet. He had not come this far only to be gunned down by some fire-flinging dog.

Snarling in fury, he drew upon the anger and the fear, the determination and the years of training, channelling it all into a single motion - the clenching of his right hand, runic patterns glowing a fiery red as he focused the totality of his will upon the armour she wore, seeking to lock the joints and rust away the plating, to slow her, then entrap her, and ultimately to bury her within a tomb of her own making.

 

[Onrai]

Space
Allies: Moff Drybis Lyken Thaelius Seela Leini Grand Moff Decimus
Enemies: Var Koon Savoh Muska Naier Rambeigh Len Vert Scourge Harz Fiolette Fortan Gallius Orcana Dracken Pryce Gordon

The arrival of Battlegroup Kenobi to reinforce the Ouroboros resulted in deviation of battlecruisers from the various engagements to meet them. The Sovereign and the Bellator specifically broke off their attacks and joined the four Sovereign Elites formerly guarding the Gorgon as the dreadnought itself opened fire with a broadside of super-heavy beam weapons at the vessels of the fleet. This would weaken the attack on the Ouroboros modestly, as well as that push on the fleet of Var Koon, and the damaged Whelm additionally deviated from its conflict with the fleet of Scourge Harz to turn and fire its weapons at Gallius Orcana 's suicidal cruiser. Though the Gorgon's main gun still fired at Fiolette Fortan's vessel, seeking to cripple the Blackout system and restore non-Force-based communication throughout the fleets, and though the dreadnought's anti-fighter beams did their best to engage all hostile warships, the greater conflict was proving to be surprisingly tenuous for both sides.

How things would work out in the end was unknown, but one thing was for sure: Onrai was proud of the men and women under her command.

Spoiler

Vanessa's Command Fleet
Class | Name | Length | Shields | Hull
Gorgon-class Star Dreadnought | Gorgon | 10000m | 95 | 100(Attacking the Rae Sloane with UBeams, forward beams, mass drivers using optical targeting, attacking Savoh Muska's Arquitens with orbital bombardment cannons, firing off broadside of super-heavy beam weapons and mass drivers at Battlegroup Kenobi)
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Heresiarch | 5000m | 94 | 100(Engaging Battlegroup Kenobi)
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Despot | 5000m | 94 | 100(Engaging Battlegroup Kenobi)
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Autarch | 5000m | 93 | 100(Engaging Battlegroup Kenobi)
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Martinet | 5000m | 91 | 100(Engaging Battlegroup Kenobi)
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Sovereign | 5000m | 89 | 100(Engaging Battlegroup Kenobi)
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Harbinger | 5000m | 92 | 100(Engaging Var Koon's fleet)
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Guardian | 5000m | 91 | 100(Engaging Var Koon's fleet)
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Mandator | 5000m | 92 | 100(Engaging Var Koon's fleet)
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Caudillo | 5000m | 94 | 100(Engaging Var Koon's fleet)
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Assertor | 5000m | 90 | 100(Engaging Var Koon's fleet)
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Bellator | 5000m | 93 | 100(Engaging Battlegroup Kenobi)
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Vengeance | 5000m | 92 | 100(Engaging the Ouroboros)
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Viscount | 5000m | 91 | 100(Engaging the Ouroboros)
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Intimidator | 5000m | 87 | 100(Engaging the Ouroboros)
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Annihilator | 5000m | 82 | 100(Engaging the Ouroboros)
Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruiser | Arbitrator | 5000m | 89 | 100(Engaging the Ouroboros)
Sovereign-class Battlecruiser | Sovereign | 5000m | 91 | 100(Engaging Des Harz's ships)
Sovereign-class Battlecruiser | Terror | 5000m | 90 | 100(Engaging Des Harz's ships)
Sovereign-class Battlecruiser | Whelm | 5000m | 89 | 78(Turning and engaging Gallius Orcana's cruiser with forward beam weapons)
Sovereign-class Battlecruiser | Ravager | 5000m | 86 | 100(Engaging Des Harz's ships)

-

Ground
Allies: N/A
Enemies: Bastard

"And who might you be?" Onrai sighed, an imperceptible eyebrow raised in curiosity at the Force presence before her. "Curious. I haven't seen a presence in the Force like that in a long time. Let me guess - you're one of the children of Ashin Varanin and Spencer Jacobs, which would make Quinn Varanin your sister." She had no clue exactly how right she was with this initial assessment, but it seemed a good way to begin. The bloodtroopers and dark troopers moved towards the door and began to open it, moving to head within.

"I'd love to retreat - Force knows Captain Larraq would love me to - but this is a Sith world. I would recommend you vacate the premises, as the last thing I would like to do is strike you down."

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Gear: Elpsis' Armour, Inferno, Uproar Blaster, Hold-out Bolter, Shotgun, Wrist Ion Paddle Beamer, Revolver, Grenades.
Felix Astermo

Triumph over adversity. Those were the Kerrigan house words. As was typical for noble families, they sounded dramatic, if not to say meldoramatic. and might say more about the matriarch's flair for dramatics than anything else. Still, Elpsis sought to live by them, regardless of how many issues she had with her family and the blasted legacy Siobhan was so obsessed with. She was covered in sweat, she was in pain and cracked ribs meant it was difficult to breathe. Still, she would hold her ground.

Weaponised sound crashed against the Sith Lord's alchemised robes with brutal force, throwing him right back into the ground he had arisen from. Elpsis' moment of elation could not do away with the notable kickback the gun produced. The Uproar Blaster hit hard, but it had a recoil akin to an ornery ronto. Elpsis had braced herself and done the sensible thing by using both her hands, but she had fired in quick succession and so she felt it.

Then the Sith unleashed a new sorcerous technique. There was the foul whiff of dark magic in the air and she could perceive twisted patterns through the Force. Then she felt his will touch her armour. Her initial instinct was to assume he was trying to crush her in it. Siobhan was fond of that trick. But as she fought back, trying to dislodge his grip, she realised he had something else in mind.

Her by now battered and dust-covered armour was made of Phrik, and thus difficult to rust, though not impossible. But she suddenly found it very difficult to move. Joints twisted and seemed to lock, even as she tried to push against it by clamping down upon his grip. The normally flexible suit felt heavy upon her shoulders.

As she tried to move, she realised that she had been locked in place. Her legs could not budge. Even her arms were difficult to move. And then she heard a sharp cracking sound in her right hand. It was of a finger breaking. More than one, perhaps. The pain was agonising. Incandescent rage coursed through her. She had been caged once before - not like this, but her mind had been locked inside her body, while it was puppeted.

But she could not be caged. Not anymore. Never. She could not move inside her armour and the pistol had fallen out of her grasp, but she still had the Force. Her gauntlets were retracted, and she threw all her rage and pain into summoning scalding flames and blasting the Sith with them, aiming to break his concentration and melt that golden mask. Or simply boil him alive.

 

[Vaulkhar]

T H E _ B L O O D Y _ H A N D E D

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LORD EXECUTOR
Cotan Sar'andor

​

From street to street Vaulkhar roamed. His otherworldly gaze searched far and wide, intent on finding those in need of the fallen Lord Executor's power. No matter where he traveled, no matter how intense the New Imperials fought, the Sith-Imperial legions outnumbered the defenders. The death toll grew with each passing minute. They died in droves, put to the blade by black-robed Sith, or gunned down by red-armored legionnaires. Even with the power of the Force at his fingertips, he could do nothing. In death, the halfbreed transcended the rules of mortal living. He had attained Oneness. Through this near-deific state, he could peer through the boundaries of reality. No wall nor gate could keep him away. It should've been enough to turn the tides.

When he stepped through the Force, delivered to the site of another hopeless fight, he placed himself between friend and foe. Though the New Imperials likely could not see him, they could feel his presence. Their retreat faltered for just an instant. They looked about in confusion, searching for the source of the tingling sensation. Had they known the fallen Master stood to cover their retreat, Vaulkhar wagered they wouldn't have erred. Their Sovereign drilled the soldiers beneath his command for decades. Few were green. In the face of a retreat, you kept your head low, moved piece by piece, and covered your allies' backs. You did not freeze, no matter the reason.

A steady stream of fire chased them. Most flew past Vaulkhar entirely, with only one passing through his invisible form. He raised a hand, fingers flexed inward as if to snatch one by the throat. The red-hot plasma thudded harmlessly against a shrouded wall erected by the fallen Jedi. He looked over his shoulder to the frozen stormtroopers.

"Keep moving," Vaulkhar commanded. "Regroup at the Citadel."

The disembodied voice spooked them enough to see them hastily depart the alleyway. When the apparition turned back to the Sith-Imperial legionnaires, he couldn't help but smile. Those not cowed by the strange display lifted their weapons and slammed them against the barrier, while those behind them fired shot after shot—small cracks fissured along the edges of the wall for their effort.

"This isn't working!" one near the wall said.

"Fall back. We won't be able to pursue them through here!" the soldier furthest in the back shouted. "We'll find another way through! C'mon!"

Vaulkhar watched them depart before he dropped the barrier. Through his enlightened being, it was as if he was everywhere at once, at all times. The battle flickered before him, replaced by a similar scene that transpired not long ago. He scowled and pushed away from their past attack on Ravelin. It became increasingly more difficult as other instances materialized around him. Soldiers from across time marched through the streets. Fires raged, bodies crowded alleys much like the one the singular fragment of his being stood within. He stumbled against the wall one thousand different times, in a thousand different times.

If not for a familiar surge of power somewhere nearby, or sometime nearby, Vaulkhar feared he would disappear entirely. It took immense control to separate himself from the greater whole and take shape on the material plane.

He steadied himself and focused on the familiar Je'daii. It appeared Cotan was ready for the fallen Jedi's presence. Vaulkhar blinked.

The empty alleyway was replaced by the foot of Fortress Imperator. Three Sith assailed Cotan. They attacked him from three sides, yet they could not break past his defense. No surprise there. Vaulkhar wandered closer, stopping a foot from the kneeling Je'daii. The former Lord Executor knelt down as well. His mind pushed through the explosive hatred that gripped Ravelin, attaching to his friend.

When recognition materialized within Cotan's gaze, Vaulkhar smiled.

"Hello, my friend. I wish I could say we were meeting again under better circumstances."

 

[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

What was once an eager Battalion had become a haggard shadow of it's former self, though the 2/3rds strength that was left to Barran still had that Blue-Heart's fire in their eyes when he searched each and every gaze of those he would lead into battle once more. All who survived were ready, reloading their weapons and aiding others in their resupplying efforts as they went, getting every last task seen to with the utmost urgency; none were distracted, none were grieving, and all were operating with all their limits of proficiency would allow. However, the one person he should've been questioning was the one who was searching the gaze of his subordinates, but Lord Erskine was actively repressing what he saw when he was rescuing Vostok, much to a detriment that would take time to do it's intended damage. Despite the confirmation it had given Barran of Heggy's death, thoughts of what his Quartermaster said to him (before the ICBM hit the Imperial Gate spaceport) had started an unhealthy process in his mind, though Barran wouldn't be defeated by it so easily.
If you stay out o' mah heid, ah promise ah'll get you the vengeance you deserve! Even if it kills me, Heggy....

Forming up as the tanks readied to roll out, three long ranks of infantrymen and rocket-launcher troops spread across the fort's drill-square, within the walls of the fall-back position itself. Every one of the foot-soldiers were standing to attention, stood straighter than arrows as they waited for the Lord-Major's command. For the first time in hours, shivers ran up his spine but in a way that subconsciously told Barran that this was a moment he'd want to remember; the wind was blowing the smoky mist over the outer walls, and into the inner compound that served as the NIO's fall-back position, conjuring an image of sentinel statues keeping watch over an ancient tomb. This sight reminded Lord Erskine of the family tomb, especially the painted-statue memorials to every Barran who served as soldiers or officers in life.

'Aye, ah know yees are ready for more! But ah really should say this before we continue, ah know that ah've been asking too much of you! Despite this, every time ah do so, you surprise me by proving your worth without even so much as a second thought.... So, if yees can, ah'd like it if yees surprised me again!'

<"All friendly units in the area, this is Captain FN-999 of the 19th Assault Company. The 439th Assault Platoon will soon be entering barrage formation, which could potentially lead to the destruction of a majority of or the entire battlefield around the wreckage of the Sith transport craft approximately 1 kilometer northeast of the northern perimeter of Fortress Imperator. I would recommend evacuating all friendly units from the area within the next two minutes, taking caution to keep the enemy pinned near the wreckage site. Afterwards, the 439th will open fire. May the Imperator's will see us through this battle.">

'Hear that one, Milord?'

Chuckling at the fact they had made the right choice, Barran looked back to the outer-gate with a quick glance at the Galidraanis on the walls with slight smugness, then he turned back to the Captain as he said,'Every last word, Shugg. Order the foot-soldiers to fall out, we have some harrying ti get done!'. An apt statement, as the Lord-Major was under the impression that all the units advancing on the crash site would, unknowingly, be exposed to potential surprise-attacks from behind, something Erskine had every intention of rectifying with a surprise-attack of his own. Major Barran was clearly in the mood for aggressive tactics, a preference of which was wholeheartedly welcomed by his surviving subordinates, and would prove to be a vital boost to their morale in the following hours.

With tanks slowly creeping forward, in anticipation of the infantry's general advance that would push out in front, Erskine's ACV came to life on the muddy surface of the grounds beyond the fort's outer-gate; driving past the tanks to keep up with the riflemen, the sodden surface the terrain was much too easy for the tracks to traverse over. The walkers following behind at their own pace would provide backup if the armoured battalion had somehow met it's match, completing the formation as it advanced on any who would dare sneak up on the Lord-Major's allies. Besides the willingness to fight, most of Erskine's subordinates agreed that the enemy would try to act in such a way, and so all would accord with Barran's latest battleplan without any doubts in their minds on the matter; and not even a slight hint of hesitation to be detected, and after all the battalion had endured by then, Barran expected scowls at the very least.
Happily disappointed.... If they won't even so much as flinch at the prospect, they've finally pushed beyond their own personal crucibles.

Looking through the optics, the Lord-Major was picking up movement, though he couldn't detect anything with the thermal setting. Erskine needed to think, ordering the entire formation to halt so he could discuss the potential for Sith-borne evils of another nature, but with more than just Shugg and his driver present. Both Myles and Rhone had managed to pull themselves from the line, though Erskine had a feeling their seconds-in-command would be sent in their stead, gladdened when helms were removed to reveal the appropriately-required faces of his tank-commander and the soon-to-be captain of (what would be named, in time) the Blue-Heart Guards. The discussion would begin almost immediately, granting themselves enough time to drink from their hipflasks before getting underway with their talks. However, it didn't take long for the gathering to realize it could only have been one particular type of foe, and when the word,"Undead", was uttered, a wave of shudders washed over all the officers in attendance, all but Barran.

'Of aw the monsters we've faced, you draw the line at,"Zombies"? Naw, no acceptin' that for wan second! Aim for the heid or chop the heid aff, quite simple. They also explode like any other mortal entity we know, nothing we can't handle.... So get a grip o' yersels, walkin' corpses are easier than Sith-troopers t'kill if ye know how.'

By the time all the rolling-track vehicles had come to a stop, the Lord-Major could hear the loud rabble without even needing to open their turret-hatch yet; most were moaning, some were wailing but a fair few sounded like they were screaming, and all of it wordless. The flashes of rifles in the mist of the dewy, rain of the early morning lit up the area beyond the small rises that hid the chaos, though the tank-crews knew exactly what was happening (and who it was happening to) before the walkers could get close enough to get a decent view of Rhone's zombie-slaying efforts. Some would see it as a bad sign, but the flashes only seemed to lull for reloads or vibra-melee, so the balance ensured that the intensity kept from waning or indicating loss of life.

<"Walker One to Blue-Heart Alpha! Rhone's an absolute savage, Milord. Check your southwest bearing and you'll see it.">

'Aye, seen. Ready all turrets anyway, Rhone has a plan; and that includes baiting them towards the heavier ordnance, but I can't be quite sure yet. Blue-Heart Alpha out!'

​

​

 

[Other Space Kaiden]

Warrior's Skin
The Inferno

The flames roared to life around them both, consuming both the Jedi and Vulcanus in raging inferno that charred the very ground they stood upon. Tails of flame erupted forth as it encroached upon the human, the fire itself cast aside by a sudden burst of light and an intense focus of will. The beast watched as the flames melted away around him, eaten away by the Jedi's power. He was shocked for only a moment before he felt it. The same feeling he had experienced in the tunnels below Dantooine - the feeling of something suffocating him from the inside. Sulfuric eyes narrowed in the brief moment of reprieve that existed in the space between his attack and her action.

This Jedi wished to strip him of his power, just as the incessant woman on Dantooine had. This power, however, was not nearly as potent as that strange effect in the tunnels had been. It was controlled and within the realm of power he could understand.

The time to think on it was short. As the last of the flames were snuffed the woman lunged forward, throwing forth her left hand. The air shimmered for a moment as if reality itself bent around her palm - then appeared the orb. Swirling with a smokey mist, the orb seemed to hang on the edge of reality like a mirage at the peripheral of one's vision. The Graug's eyes shot wide as the orb rocketed towards him, leaving behind a rippling wake of reality in its destructive path. Despite all of his power and strength, the beast could do little more in those few moments but brace himself for the impact. Seconds before impact bent his knees, crossed his arms over his chest and commanded the darkside to flow into every fiber of every muscle.

The world became suddenly quiet - all except for the intense ringing that filled his skull.

Vulcanus felt sharp pain as ultrachrome gauntlets shattered under the pressure of the attack, shredding his arms with jagged pieces of his own armor. The beast's deep, grungy howl broke the air as he disappeared from where he had been a breath earlier. The orb of energy drug the monster backwards, his boots digging long, deep trenches into the stone and dirt. The energy finally battered itself into oblivion against the beast's armor, leaving behind a spiraled pattern of chewed armor accented by rivers of black blood that quickly pooled down into his belt and onto the ground. Necrotic flesh hung loose from his now exposed arms and he could feel the shock-wave reverberating through his bones.

Slowly the beast released a held breath, his claws tightening into fists as he focused his mind on the pain. On the weakness of his mortal body...on the rage it built inside him.

"Good" the beast hissed, the pain fueling his resolve "you'll be worthy of my belt after all!"

In one violent motion the beast withdrew Inferno from its place at his side, gripping the massive bone-forged blade in both hands and bringing it to a high Djem-So ready. The beast fed his power into the hilt and the blade itself roared to life, flames igniting in the ghoulish eyes set in the blade guard and the edge itself beginning to steam.

"Attack, Jedi!"
Romi Jade

 

[Kolson Vrask]

V A N D A L
VANDAL SQUAD 5/6
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
Armor | Rifle | Pistol | | Grenades

I CAN FEEL IT

It was getting heavy.​

<"Fuck it- Besh! Form up on our position."> Berik sounded out, clamoring to shuffle his way behind cover only for a particle beam to bite into his armor, sending him down into the broken earth beneath with groan of pain.

It bit right into the side of his torso, he moved a hand to press against the burn only for a sting of pain to shoot through, dampened immediately by the bacta stims affixed within his armor. That gave him a second wind, enough to get him back unto his feet only to crouch down once more behind the slab of duracrete and protruding rebar.

<"Copy, we're on the move. Stay put."> The Storm Commando sounded off in reply.

<"I'm headed to your spot- cover me."> Fredik sounded out and Berik replied with twisting his body to aim down the sights of his battle rifle. His sights went from the center mass of one Sith trooper, squeezing the trigger to let a two round burst thud into his chest. The characteristic crack and stomp of the duraplast beneath the particle beam was always the audial signal of a confirmed kill. Even in the chaos of a heavy, concentrated stream of fire, explosions, shouting and the rest of it, he trained his ears to hone in well on that noise. It was unlike any other. Like the last, final, closing notes to a drawn out symphony. The end.

His gaze flicked to another. One-two. Down.

He heard the crack and whizz of a sniper shot roll past his head and he used the split second of registering the attack to delve back beneath cover. He looked in the direction his Echani comrade was approaching from. The visor looked back to him, but the body didn't move. No sign of life on his person. No beating heat from his lifeform sensor. Killed in action. Berik had lost another.

He shifted over to the Commando, the body was limp, lifeblood lost. He reached and took ahold of the ID tags, ripping them from his form.

<"You were one of the best..."> He says solemnly. Soon enough, the voice of FN-999 crept over the commo. With foreboding news.

[All friendly units in the area, this is Captain FN-999 of the 19th Assault Company. The 439th Assault Platoon will soon be entering barrage formation, which could potentially lead to the destruction of a majority of or the entire battlefield around the wreckage of the Sith transport craft approximately 1 kilometer northeast of the northern perimeter of Fortress Imperator. I would recommend evacuating all friendly units from the area within the next two minutes, taking caution to keep the enemy pinned near the wreckage site. Afterwards, the 439th will open fire. May the Imperator's will see us through this battle.]

Two minutes to dawn.

Good.

Berik's next ring of the commo came in the direction of Enlil

<"Monarch-Actual, this is Vandal, my men are currently working to pin down Sith units at sector Aurek...we have ordinance ready to drop the hammer, but we need to keep them in place."> Berik sounds off to him, swallowing his next breath.

<"I need you to extract Vandal Squad and see everyone else out, they're better used at Imperator...see you on the other side, your grace...Vandal out."> He says before closing the comms.

<"Grunge, start fanning out our boys, get them moved out of this place before the 908th glass it. Regroup on their spot, hold off the Sith advance at Imperator.">

<"Copy.">

<"I'll keep em right where they are."> He reached across to his fallen comrade, taking up his heavy repeater. He might have fallen, but that serial number etched into this heavy steel would see a few more plunge into the bloodied earth down his sights. He peered to the ammo counter. Just about a full cell. It'd be good enough. He left his position to encroach further, without any regard for his life.

<"Sir? The fuck do you think you're doing playing hero?"> Grunge bit back, a tinge of fear layered in the bitterness of his voice.

<"Who dares wins...Regroup at Imperator, I'll make sure everything counts."> He was a man looking to die.

And take everyone else with him.

He propped the repeater up onto the next slab of cover and began to fire a bruising crack of the weapon, to pin what remained of the Sith here where they were, afraid to lurch into the open fray by fear of the particle beams chewing through them.

ALLIES | NIO | Djorn Bline | Lyra Voi’kryt | Creuat | Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Tyrell Paxxus | Meko Sorrin | Zakaria Black | FN-999 Vostok Grau
ENEMIES | TSE | CIS | Luna Terrik | UX-0626 | Iasha Rha | Alina Tremiru | Dimitri Voltura | Kesran Opadal

 

[Loske Treicolt]

SABER SQUADRON XO | KNIGHT OF THE NEW JEDI ORDER
BASTION | PROSPERITY
FLIGHT SUIT | LIGHTSABER
MIGHTY WINGS

​

"You gotta remember...what happened here, for me."
"It just- shit...I don't know if I should've agreed to it. Especially...here. This place...it's just- I lost him, I failed him. Aside from you...he was all I had left...and I let him down. Hell, you were there, you did all you could and I just laid limp...pathetic. "

Back here.

The last time they’d visited Bastion, she’d hoped to never do so again. Three times was enough. Once for war, twice for reverie, once for curiosity, and the fourth...brought it full circle.

At least this time, aboard Prosperity, they weren’t touching down on the planet itself. There was some recompense in that technicality, and she expressed as much with hopeful intonation to her counterpart. Miniscule though it was, there was some level of benefit afforded in that perspective. For all the pain that existed on the planet itself, the hurtful memories, the skies were mostly untarnished. For all the conflicts they’d been a part of, they seemed untouchable amidst the stars. Maybe there was an appropriateness to that constant in their life. Had it not been for the X-Wing hangar aboard Peace, they might not have met. They might not have ascended to the life they lead now.

It was as if their individual cockpits provided them immortality against the odds. Reprieve and triumph as steadfast, everlasting Saber-One and Five. A far cry from limp and pathetic.

​

A final preparatory call from flight control boomed over the hangar's speakers.

In the enclosed rectangle of a hangar, the steady thunder of ship after ship activating their engines was overwhelming. The klaxons blaring alerts about engineering and lockdown only added to the decibels. Ready to go, she added another monstrous din to the sequence.

This isn’t good. Frank complained from his containment.

<Would you relax?> Loske tapped through the channel to her particular astromech. <These things always sort themselves out.>

It’s impossible for me to relax. Or be uptight.

<Could have fooled me.> The pilot admitted, tightening the strap under her chin and adjusting the snugness of her helmet’s padding.

Their flight coordination was escalated, a warning patched through each of their navigational systems. They were entering an active fight zone and would have to be wary of friendly fire on top of enemy posturing. Prosperity was parked somewhere in the middle, but given the traffic overhead Bastion they were warned it might be hard to discern friend from foe straightaway. Almost likened to a debris cluster –– but eventually, Saber was announced clear. If they could empty into the vacuum in the next half galactic minute.

They managed –– the Sabers pouring into an active light fight above Bastion. Fleets from The Empire, the Confederacy, The Alliance and the New Order took formation amongst the stars. A string of ruby sliced across their flight path, and each Saber responded immediately to activate S-foils on their Commanding Officer’s relay. Loske was no different.

<Busy busy out here.> The blonde mumbled between herself and her co-pilot.

"I see an opening. I'm breaking formation,"

Fifty-one seconds at departure’s announcement. Less than 60 standard seconds... Frank chirped at Paragon’s broadcast.

<Seriously? LESS than sixty seconds?> Loske repeated dumbfoundedly. She thwacked the heel of her hand against the dashboard of her fighter in displeasure. <Man, my hopes in the boy were way too high.> These winner’s terms bets on Bastion were really starting to get the better of her.

Before Outrider could gloat, she swapped to their shared channel to offer her testimony-slash-pathetic-attempt-to-blame-it-on-insider-trading <Before you claim victory ––> Before she could smile, her X-wing jolted forward. Her instruments indicated light damage to her aft shield. <Hold that thought, I’ve got company.> Her targeting system flashed red, indicating someone had her in their sights.

Sounds like a sore loser’s excuse. Frank added unhelpfully.

<I’m not a –– Frank! Get me a lock on that TIE.> She inverted and dove, pulling back on the stick to power up through a hook-shape and onto the TIE’s tail. The adjustment was slightly off, more to her port S-foil away at a right angle to her course. She adjusted her opposite rudder, stomping against it to snap-roll and give a view of the planet below in conjunction with the interceptor racing away from her. It picked up to accelerate just as her target locked. With a depress to the trigger, a salvo of emerald bolts lanced through the void to the TIE. Her screen cleared, and the sky ahead filled with a fiery ball.

Nudging the yoke back over to the right, she rolled back into formation. Amidst all that, she managed an exhale of relief. They’d made it in time for reinforcements.

<Okay, as I was saying..>

ALLIES | NJO | GA | NIO | Maynard Treicolt | Okkeus Dainlei | Ripley Kühn | Ryv | Asmundr Varobalder
DON'T SHOOT FIRST | CIS
ENEMIES | TSE | Seela Leini

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

O U T R I D E R
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
SABER SQUADRON
X-Wing | Flight Suit | Lightsaber

FAR OUT​

This fluid dance felt more natural than anything else, the pull into the blue jumpsuit, the pass into the hangar bay, the flight systems check, the slow hydraulic hiss of his astromech, endearingly named 'Buddy' being lowered into its slot, Ryv making up more and more excuses of how else now to avoid his place in the unit and finally the lift, the jump.

His vision was awash in the blue starfield of lightspeed, his eyes screwing shut for a moment as he took in a deep breath, holding it for a moment only to exhale at the binary beeps of the BB unit slotted behind him.

::Everything alright? I mean...I know this isn't hardly something you do anymore. Which, not going to lie, I miss this.:: The droid communicated, taking the break between the battle awaiting them over the New Imperial capital and the madness within the Prosperity to string together a rare moment with its long time friend, its 'master' if it were.

"I think I remember a different story, 'bouta BB unit who could use a break from all the 'danger and peril', now here you are wishing I was back at the sticks." Maynard remarked, failing to hide a grin, glancing back in the direction of the astromech.

::Well- regardless, glad we're here together.::

"Me too, Buddy..." Maynard said, drawing another deep breath again

IM GONNA BREAK
​

They emerged into the usual chaos of Galactic warfare. At least four banners flew high here. The New Imperial Order, obviously was an all too familiar sight. The very own Galactic Alliance and in opposition? Their 'defensive pact' allies of the Confederacy and the Sith Empire. Politics...politics. Not that he'd ever involved himself in that. He just passed the judgement of the sword on whom ever the Alliance deemed worthy of it.

"We're in the shit now aren't we-." He says, to himself and his co-pilot before he flicks his commo to a squadron basis.

<"Sabers form up, S-foils in attack position - we'll start by cleaning up the rear defensive lines, stop anything else from passing unto the surface, let the big Imp boats take care of orbit. Full burn, let's move."> He ordered across the squadron, only for Ryv to pass through his comms.

"I'd say I'm counting on you, Outrider, but you already know that,"

<"'Course I do, keep tight on me, put full power to engines if you want to make it down there in one piece, not like you usually do anyway, but let's try this time."> He still felt like he had to tell Ryv each step of the process as they burned the engines in the direction of the main venue of war here, Bastion.

"I see an opening. I'm breaking formation,"

<"Copy, Paragon. Give em hell."> Maynard says, twisting his fighter away from Ryv's as he offered a quick glance to his X-wing on a course toward the surface, only for Blue to ring his comms.

<Seriously? LESS than sixty seconds?>

<Man, my hopes in the boy were way too high.>

<"That's the difference, you're still using 'hope', I know all too damn well what he's gonna do. But he'll be fine."> He could only hope. He was reluctant to peel away from Loske to join the battle on the surface, or even take her down there with him. At the sticks, there wasn't much of anything that could fell them.

<"Sabers- pair off, target for space superiority. Again, close down every lane of relief the Sith have open for em, nothing else touches down on the surface."> Maynard commands through the squadron, it didn't have to be said that Saber one and five would be the next logical pairing with Ryv's split.

<"Sounded a little alarmed there, Blue. Looks to me like you've gotten rusty."> Just as he said that, an easy target lock was painted in his display and he honed in on the Sith fire, pulsing out the crackling volley of the blaster cannons on the wings of his fighter before surging back the blaze of death ahead of them.

<"What'd we say we were betting again?"> Maynard inquired in kind to Loske, just baring all the satisfaction in hearing the winners spoils of their playful gambit once more.

It was good to be back on steel wings, in the thick of it, nothing but few inches of glasteel and metal seperating him from the void.

ALLIES | NJO | GA | NIO | Maynard Treicolt | Okkeus Dainlei | Ripley Kühn | Ryv | Asmundr Varobalder
DON'T SHOOT FIRST | CIS
ENEMIES | TSE | Seela Leini

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

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

Location: Ravelin, Bastion
Objective: To find everything that was once Adrian’s property and rescue them if they still exist. Avenge AMCO !
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | Heilagr MK. I Assassin Armour | G1 OmniLink | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Tag: Runi Verin

[ Facing the Ghosts ] ​

Ingrid rarely felt anything, but it was very intense at the time, perhaps better than to others. She was like, if feel something, it’s intense and lasts a long time. If loves someone, she will hold it for the rest of her life, if she manages to hate someone - there has never been one, she will forever. She was fifteen years old when lost the first love of her life, she killed him because had to. That pain was almost non-existent compared to what she was feeling now, but still loved the boy, after so many years. Other than him, she only loved Tubrok and Adrian with real love in her life. Both were much more intense than the first and she could live without the first, but not without her husbands…

Because of Runi's defense, it was much more difficult to transmit memories and feelings even though used only minimal Force to do so, it was mostly like umbaran telepathy, independent from the Force. She was not attached to the Force, it only strengthened the effect. That's why, because the transmission was too long, had to force herself too much. It was for this reason that black smoke “dripped” from her nose and became nothing, like a bood. Shape-shifting was also a bit harder to hold, and tears also turned to black smoke and evaporated. The Empress teared her own life force…

Cursed her own great memory because now she could see Adrian's face in front of her, the moment before he died. And the next one she felt, she was already there by then, but by then it was too late. The non-existent frosty dagger penetrated deeper and deeper into her heart and soul, causing even greater spiritual pain. While Runi struggled with feelings, Ingrid did the same with the pictures, trying to clear her mind while letting the soulshard try to reassure her.

Adrian…

Remember the last time they were here, when the Force-bond was formed, when Ingrid was dying, and then the Sith Lord rushed over to her, exceptionally not the woman worried about him, but vice versa.

Nodding encouragingly, a forced smile made its way onto his features even as the dying Darksworn approached, beckoned by his will. "Of course I'm worried about you, but not too worried - you'll be alright, after all." She would be, he would make it so - even if he had to drag a hundred New Imperial bastards back into the tower and rip the very life from their bodies. For her, he would gladly butcher however many faceless troopers it took.

Recalling the memory, she heard her husband’s voice in her mind thanks to the memory image as she relived the feelings Adrian was trying to reassure her, to reassure her that everything would be fine. Heard Runi’s words, the clatter of the blade broke the memory. Ingrid looked up, then down on the weapon. Realized the blade was exactly what she had to take out of Adrian's side. Be suicidal?

Laughed bitterly, her voice mixed with crying. After Runi became one of the few people who really knew Ingrid, she still couldn't figure her out. Apparently. Such were at most her siblings, her parents knew the woman, apart from them only Cal, Tubrok and Adrian knew her as such. Her own two blades flew into her hands first and then put them back to their sheaths. After that, the twin blade. Her hand squeezed the grip to hide the trembling of her hand.

"You and your companion are my ghosts…" said barely audibly.

The red-haired woman could not have committed suicide, Ingrid had always put everything and everyone in front of her life, Adrian tried to change this view so that she was now the most important thing for the Empire and she need to care for herself. Ingrid was a soldier, Adrian never really understood that she would give her life for anyone, anytime. She was not afraid of death never did, but she was unable to commit suicide. There was no greater disgrace in the eyes of her people or in her own. She still had to serve the Empire, she could not leave her people alone…

Always just a duty, and she still had to do it. Now not for the Empire, but for Adrian, only for AMCO … for the two of them, for their love.

Staggered for a moment, the pain of Runi's earlier "attack" again as strong as when Adrian died. It was true this time before, but now the two feelings have added up. Her legs trembled, she could barely stand. Wanted to scream, but it would have been Force Scream again and this time it would have ruined and destroyed everything here. Reached into the Force and accelerated her movement, her progress accompanied by black smoke. When she arrives at Runi, she tries to stab her exactly between the second and third ribs, trying to stab the blade straight into her heart, as she did with Adrian in the dark cave…