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

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Cotan Sar'andor​

“I thought it would make you a nice shroud.”

With a flick of her fingers, she undid the magnetic clasp on one side of the cape and tugged it out of the second one. The fabric hung from her right hand as she flourished it. The fabric rolled in on itself as she gathered it up in her right hand.

“If I had known Auteme was dear to you, I would have sent her home with a clearer message.”

Zaudraka practically jittered in her hand, thirsting for blood. It thirsted for the blood of the imperials, already nibbling on the fear lingering in the air, but more than anything else it thirsted for the blood of the Jedi. Sensing that taint upon the air, the sword practically salivated
It had been cross with her for some time for not being brandished for the victory on Dantooine, but with the promise of renewed focus on the death of the Jedi, it had come around. It knew Joycelyn hated them as much as it did. It could sense how much of her will it had taken to offer them even the smidge of a chance she had on Dantooine.

Now, she was free of all such foolish obligations.

“I won’t make the same mistake with you.”

She took a step forward, then bounded into a run before leaping half-way up the stairs in a single leap. The cape in her hand flared out behind her as she rapidly cut through the air and slammed down on the steps. The stone cracked beneath her as she rose to her full again.

Her head focused directly on Cotan.

Holding the cape in front of her, she held the blade in her left hand, the tip of her sword pointing down at the ground, obscured behind the cape. Such tricks were rarely effective on Jedi on account of their fearsome precognitive abilities, but sometimes it was useful enough. And while it might not have helped much against Cotan, he was not necessarily the only one there. She saw those who waited on the edge, she felt their emotions surging.

She feasted on their anger and made it her own.

 

[Ravraa Vyshraal]

...where the wind weeps...​

The warm burn of brandy went down easy for the Togruta, afterall, he had been drinking it ages earlier than he ever should have. Just a nip here and there from Zohlees to take the edge off of whatever sickness, plague, or affliction that little Rav had managed to grab during their explorations, however, it failed to carry any of those connotations now. Especially here, in his suite in the Moff Palace of Shili. Nothing in the air besides the singsong voice of Jeresan carrying on with the conversation they were having as the crackle of firewood burst to life every now and again. Bathing the room in a warm orange glow, playing off of the corners of Jeresan’s features. A soft jaw that matched his rather soft-spoken demeanor. Eyes that dominated a major amount of his face, settling those crashing blue waves that made their home inside of them. Snow white skin from far too many operations in darkness or the cover of armor. It was strange seeing the man lean against the chair, rather than sit on it, at a nearly acute angle as he rolled the drink in his hand, watching it dance around the rim of the glass. The simple pull over shirt seemed to fit him so much better than the bulky betaplast the man was so commonly clad inside of.

He looked up, flashing a smile at the Togruta as he kept his tale.

“... and that was the first time I ever shot a rifle. Not something I forgot either, firm kick, steady aim. I think that’s why I become a sniper, you know?”

“Predictability, you aim right, shoot right, you get the results you want. I got that right?” Ravraa asked.

Nodding, Jeresan took the brandy back in a gulp. Downing the rest of the glass before he poured himself another fill. Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed the Moff fiddling with something in his pocket yet.

“You get me, Jeresan. Hope ya know that. Never ask too much when I ain’t wanting it, never pry too much when it won’t do no good, but you’re always there, aren’t you? Something I can count on, somethin’ I can trust.”

“Learned a lot about you in the field, Rav. I’d have to be a bit dumb to not pick up on how you work. Spent most of every op staring at you anyways. You pick up on a lot like that.”

The Togruta chuckled before looking up from his drink. Standing up, and taking a step to the human.

“Really now? What would that be? What can you pick up from how someone works in war?”

“It’s a mirror, Rav. A darker one, maybe. But still you. Still that kind, burning heart that brought me here. Still that gale against the uncertainties of the world. You put your life on the line time and time again for us, just because you cared. That’s rare. Because I know you’re afraid, Rav. You’re not one of these unfeeling monsters. Your heroism, sacrifices, you’re afraid through all of it. You have a humanity about you.”

Ravraa looked down, shaking his head as he took another step to Jeresan, closing the impossible distance between the pair.

“Jer, I was wanting to give you somethin’, Zho gave it to me some time ago.” Ravraa said, pulling his closed hand from his pocket.

“Rav…”

“Now, it ain’t gotta mean anything if you don’t want it too, but you still mean a lot. And uh, er…. Akul-Spit… this is hard. I’d like for you-”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The low red glow and harassing noises emanating from a holoband around the Moff’s wrist demanded his attention. He clicked it, and brought his spare comlink up to his ear.

Tarkin has fallen.

He went cold. Eyes dancing through the room, just past Jeresan, not looking directly at him, but at the space he should occupy. Bastion, again…

Bringing his hand up, he pressed the small metal band into Jeresan’s hand.

“If I don’t make it back, I’ll die thinkin’ you said yes.”

Ravraa turned on his heel, burning out of the room as Jeresan took in the gift that was given so freely. A small band of silver, striped with a band of gold separating the three individual rings of the wedding band.

As he exited the room, Ravraa gave an open order through the emergency frequency on his comms.

“Rally the Sector Army, contact the Navy, we burn Tibanna until we hit the Capital. Tarkin has fallen.”

~~

RESIDENTIAL SECTOR OF RAVELIN

OBJECTIVE I - CIVILIAN EVAC

ALLIES: NIO

HOSTILES: TSE

OPEN TO OPPOSITION

SHILI SECTOR AUXILIARIES - RAV’S PEACEKEEPERS​

This would be the trial by fire for Ravraa’s Auxs, their first actual full body encounter against the Tide of Darkness, against the Sith Lords that they had been drilled against time and time again, the first time being part of a larger military operation, and their first time being part of a pitched battle for the fate of the Order. Ravraa found the similarities between his early career as a stormtrooper and the first deployment of his Auxiliaries to be… ironic at best.

They were quick to make planetfall, landing through atmospheric entry pods, gunships, and whatever the local naval forces could spare for the Sector Forces to make their way to the streets of Ravelin. As they descended, Sith fighters picked them from the air, and as they exited the pods and disembarked form their gunships, they were met with blaster and saber, but they had one true objective. Civilian extraction.

~~

Once they had reached the first set of skyscrapers, Ravraa was quick to split up the Sector Forces into teams, dedicated to clearing out floor by floor with lifeform scanners. They were to identify any civilians, and without question, they were to extract them from their apartments. This wasn’t something for debate, and Ravraa gave his men full permission to use non-lethal methods to secure the citizenry if required.

He had seen too many heroics in his line of service.

The building shook as he made his way up floor after floor, boots slamming on metal stairways as his squad fell in behind him. The entire building was filled to the brim with shouts, screams and occasional thrumming of blaster and charric fire outside of windows as the Sector Forces attempted their best to keep the Sith Army from hitting the building before they had a chance to completely evacuate it. An elderly man was passed by Ravraa on a stretcher by a pair of Sector Auxs, feeding a tube of bacta into the most major burns across his body, listing off dosages of various chemicals and treatments as they moved. The sharp snapping of AK-57xs bursting control panels and corners of doors as squads moved in to secure families and individuals without remorse. No heroes. No heroes. No heroes.

He brought himself up to a doorway, waving for his squadron to set up with him before reaching out, letting heavy knocks rap against the durasteel portal.

<“New Imperial Army! Open up!”>

No response…

Another series of knocks.

<”Mandatory evacuation! Sith Forces are crawlin’ up the street!”>

Ravraa looked back to the rest of the gasmasked squadron before shrugging, pulling himself off of the door before reaching down to his belt, unclipping Noxwalda’s saber and letting it burst into life. He was taught by Fel, of course, how to properly use it. Though, he felt it made a better tool than a weapon. He plunged it into the durasteel door, dragging it along the outline before the boiling metal connected. A boot kick and the whole door came crashing down. Saber off, replaced with his rifle quickly after as the squad entered the room.

Three people, a Twi’lek male, blue in coloration, standing in front of a human female and a hybrid child. His arms were outstretched as if he had something to defend them from. They wore hand me down clothes, and the apartment was spartanly decorated. A breakfast still sat on the dining table.

“I’m not going anywhere! We aren’t abandoning our home!”

Ravraa, keeping his rifle up, barked back.

<”Listen! I am Moff Ravraa Vyshraal, I fought in the First Battle of Bastion. They will raze this place, level this whole grid. It ain’t worth dyin’ over, and I don’t plan on letting you.”>

“What’s your plan! You don’t have enough ships to take us all out of here before the Sith get here. They’ll cull us all.”

<”We don’t. That’s why we’re here. The Sector Auxiliaries are ordered to evacuate this entire complex to a landing zone and hold that zone with our lives. You’re the lifeblood of the nation, we ain’t leaving you here.”>

There was a tense moment, the whole room was quiet besides the chaos of the outside.

“Alright, alright… name’s Weslon Fullfel. You promise you can get my family out of there, Moff?”

<”I promise I’ll try.”>

The man nodded, looking down at his kid. Giving them a pat on the head.

“That’ll have to be good enough.”

 

[Runi Verin]

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

The itch between her shoulder blades seemed to grow with each passing step. A sense of deep unease settling into the gut of her stomach as she continued to push her way towards the spaceport. It had been years since she had felt like someone's prey. It had been an almost everyday occurrence growing up as a street rat in the ravaged slums of Kol Atorn, but Runi had come along way since those dark years. Or so she had thought.

If the streets were chaos, then the spaceport was brutal mayhem. Panicked crowds shoved, yelled and screamed out obscenities towards the beleaguered looking guards that tried to redirect them towards one of the shelters scattered across the city. Attempts that met about as much acceptance as the gaudy red holosigns that flashed out a lockdown notification above the main entrance. No ships in or out until control had been reestablished over the battlespace above.

A wrinkle in her plan, but not entirely unexpected. Undeterred, the Kiffar ducked down one of the lesser side alleyways as she approached, pulling away from the main crowd and the main entrance in search of one of the lesser used maintenance access doors...

Only to pause as soon as the noise had died down enough, her gaze oncemore passing over her shoulder in the direction she had just come. A subtle, almost absent flick of her wrist letting a reassuring presence of a knife blossom in her hand. It wasn't quite as worn, weathered weapon she had grown used to the last few years - that was lost somewhere in a cave on Dantooine, fixed between the second and third ribs of the man who's bounty she had claimed only hours previously - but it would have to do.

"Unless you're lookin' to pay passage," She called in clipped accented tones, her voice purposefully low enough to avoid drawing the mob, yet loud enough to fill the narrow alleyway. Her senses becoming sharper and more acute as the force flooded her veins and bolstered her body. Anticipation hanging with every word. "This here seems a good enough place as any to part ways, 'lek?

Bounty huntin' might be a livin', but dyin' ain't. Tayli'bac?"

 

[Ragnar the Blooded]

Location: Ravelin, Bastion
Equipment: Saberstaff, Imperial Knight Armour
Tags: Iasha Rha , Luna Terrik , UX-0626 , Kesran Opadal , Dimitri Voltura, Kolson Vrask
Engaging, Later or Something: Alina Tremiru

​

The volume of blaster bolts flying over the barricade increased. The ground was littered with corpses on both sides, the stench finally noticeable, and it was unbearable. The blaster bolts turned insides to mush, and through the centimetre-sized burn holes in the corpses that were strewn about the street, the smell found him. Some had been there for hours, the battle too intense to remove them. The Sith forces didn't seem to mind tripping over them, almost like they knew they were running low on ammunition.

Atop of the barricade stood Ragnar, his saberstaff in an active whirl of leaping left and right, up and down, in attempts to send the bolts back in the direction of where they came.

The night was dark, and the 257th had adopted the use of flares to light the street.

"Gray Cloak, hey!"

"I'm out!"

Ragnars saber swung, enraptured with protecting himself. One of his hands lifted from the staff, splayed out fingers touching each of the souls of the hostile troopers that approached. The Force cared not how it was wielded, and it obeyed its summoning in grasping the Sith troopers, yanking them forwards abruptly. In concert with his leaping from the barricade, he dove forwards into the midst of his enemies. Slashing once to the left, the bottom end of the staff carving through the torso of the first trooper, a burning half-moon left in the wake of his saber before the top end dropped down. Pointed horizontally, it stabbed forwards, piercing the chestpiece of the next trooper.

"Fuck this! He's not even listening!"

"Get ready for detonation!"

A stray bolt flew up at him, too slow to block with his saber, his head turned and Ragnar's right arm flew up to shield his face. He felt the impact on his protected bicep. The make of the armour designed to disperse energy, and in some cases deflect it entirely. The Knight-Errant advanced as soon as he dropped his arm. The saberstaffs rotations were quick, a blur for the average persons perception. And he strode deeper into the invading force, batting the most dangerous of bolts away.

Behind him the amount of friendly fire that found the Sith troopers lessened seemingly every passing second. With every scorch mark that scorched his armour, Ragnar accepted his fate as death. For the Imperial way of life, he would die if it was necessary. Better to die a warrior and on his feet, than be imprisoned and tortured. Execution left a sour taste in his mouth too, and Ragnar could never see himself kneeling to Sith Tyranny.

The people of Bastion will not know Sith Tyranny again!

A bolt struck him in the back and he stumbled forwards, spinning about to face the Sith trooper that had snuck around him, before the night was lit up in a fiery explosion. The bright light was behind, but the explosive force sent him sprawling across the floor. Unexpected, his danger sense hadn't even warned him before he flew across the street. Were it not for his armour, molten hot shrapnel and duracrete undoubtedly would have burned furrows through him.

The buildings closest to the street they held wobbled, swaying as if being pushed by an unseen wind. A loud groaning heaved out, but there was too much smoke. Ragnar couldn't see from where it came from, and his quick roll over onto his back left him dazed. Hands flat on the ground, he tried to push himself back to his feet before the ground shook, casting him back to the ground with a stumble that had him reaching out for anything to hold on to.

Falling, he barely avoided cracking his skull across the pavement before he twisted his body around, slamming his shoulder into the ground instead. Dust flew up, coating the street in layers of it. Without a helmet he was forced to close his eyes, reaching into the Force to see what his real eyes lacked the ability to do.

The buildings had collapsed, detonations took out the structures of the standing apartment complexes, allowing them to topple upon the advancing enemy. For those that survived, they were dazed. And Ragnar started rising again, until he felt gloved hands pulling him back to his feet and he opened up his eyes to look into the New Imperial helmet.

"We've blocked the street."

Peering over his own shoulder, Ragnar could see the stormtroopers searching for survivors. Vibroknives and knuckle-blades sinking into the gaps of helmets and shoulders to put an end to the struggling Sith troopers. The wet sound of metal cutting through flesh was sobering, bringing his mind back focus and Ragnar's confused looking gaze focused before he nodded.

"The men are falling back. You should come with us, Gray Cloak."

Corpses were relieved of their weapons, power cells and packs pulled and replacing their own empty pouches. It didn't take long for them to finish. They had their orders, and the stormtroopers were already moving out. While Ragnar watched, he could feel the admiration and respect that wafted off the ones that looked in his direction. They abandoned the surrounding streets, pulling off.

"Go on. The will of the Imperator calls me elsewhere." Ragnar reached over his shoulder, tearing off the pockmarked armourweave cloak and dropped it to the ground. From its place on the ground, he called his staff back to his hand and clenched it tightly. A moment later it was hooked back into place on his belt. The Codex may have taught that the Imperial Knight was more in control of their path than other Force sects did, but Ragnar still gave himself to it, letting it guide him on this field to his next fight.

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

Joycelyn Zambrano Vaulkhar

​

"Always too much to hope that we could be friends, isn't it?"

He spun on one foot, keeping Joycelyn in view as she jumped over him. By necessity he shifted his stance, blade rising to chest height, pointing towards her throat. He almost had to grin, seeing the stance she took. In some ways, nearly a mirror of the one he'd just been holding previously. Elsewhere, both around them and apart, he could sense another presence; whether it was the Sith that awoke him, or Cotan's words, it appeared that, even in death, Vaulkhar wouldn't shy away from the battle.

He watched Joycelyn for a moment more; where she drank in the anger, fear, and pain all around, Cotan took a deep breath; where many Jedi would strive to push away the emotion, where a Sith would harness it, he let it flow through him and back out. Emotion, yet peace. The old code. Before they had yet entirely abandoned the ancient ideals of Balance. With the exhale, he shifted; drawing his leading foot back, letting his arms, one still holding his blade, hang loosely at his sides.

Standing, relaxed and entirely open, in what would soon become the center of the battle; he could feel it, already, as many within the city retreated towards the Fortress itself. "Come, then," he bid, with a short nod. "Feed your blade what you've been denying it. I'm sure it won't discriminate on my account."

 

[Detritus Ren]

Location: Tunnels underneath Ravelin
Objective: 2
Allies: Hans Rennagen Agrrur'arr
Enemies: Xeykard
Equpment: Silver Crosguard Lightsaber, Imperial Knight Battle Armor, NIO MK 1 Battle Shield

As the Sith started to flood the tunnels, Kyrel only had his shield, his saber, and undying resolve in the Empire to pull him through. Even now as communications that Hans was undertaking were abruptly cut off. As advancing Sith soldiers started to fire upon them. Kyrel returned in kind by eagerly responding with slashes of his saber, to hear the cries of any soldier that got close to the group. While they still kept pressing on. After all one thing was certain if the tunnels were lost it made the Sith's job of capturing the capital that much easier. Something that even Jin couldn't allow by any means. Gritting his teeth between the heavyweight of the shield, and his lightsaber. He was running on willpower, the strength of his comrades, and the might of the living force itself. The Knight even started to allow some of his inner burning fury to take hold of him as if an extra source of strength and resolve.

"We must stand! Victory or Death awaits us all... We must hold out till Master Fel arrives!!" He said the grave importance and conviction evident in his tone as he kept trying with all his might, to reduce the horde of the Sith to nothing but dead hunks of flesh. Underneath the very mask he wore, Kyrel was grinning. As if in the thrill at the moment. This is what he truly desired. For the will and strength of shield brothers and the chaotic noise of battle to consume them all. As if Jin himself was made for war. Even now as his shield took blaster shots, and in turn bashed into the skulls and the armor of anyone who dared to get close. Jin could only think on how the Iron Sun would not fall, and if it did then it was the might of it's people and when swords and shields came battering down upon those that consumed them all.

A sly grin remained knowing that it was only a couple of humans, and a Tusken Raider if you could believe that. That was all that stood as Imperial Knights between utter destruction and salvation. Even as the Tusken cried his own battle cry. Jin remained firm. His stance only shifted slightly when Sith soldiers tried to enter a melee when in that moment it became a brutal hand to hand combat. Where if none of the enemies were met with the fatal slash of his crossguard blade, they were met with a shield of the empire bashing their skulls in bloody. It wasn't before long that along the dark corridors bodies started to pile up. So much so, that the stench of death was starting to grow ever more present into the air. Those that were still alive started to cry out for help. Even when none would come, or even more soldiers would come and climb over them, sometimes ending them just by trampling on those still breathing or dying.

Despite the horde of soldiers, what came next was something even more threatening and arduous than that of Sith minions. What came for the Knights in a display of unbridled fury was what looked to be an overgrown Trandoshan. A giant lizard man perhaps? Jin couldn't figure out what to describe it, what word would come to mind except for an abomination. What excited and both terrified Kyrel was that the beast was wielding a Lightclub. A weapon that was rather unique, rare, and truly brutal for it's kind. Something that almost had Jin laughing for glory and death would truly come from facing such a foe. Something that compelled him to answer the monster's challenge.

As the beast screamed which one of them was first. Jin raised his saber at it, hoping to antagonize it. He spoke, "Oi, you ugly Son of a queen. Yeah, you karking piece of Sith spit... I wanna piece of ya!" He said as if amused at challenging it. Making the move to swiftly strike upon the foe, attempting to go for his legs by striking with his saber, and even attempting to digging his shield into one of the legs. After all, as the old saying went, the bigger they are the harder they fall.

 

[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."

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.

 

[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. (Sabotage the NIO) Avenge AMCO !
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | Heilagr MK. I Assassin Armour | G1 OmniLink | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Tag: Runi Verin

Background music:
Sabaton - Angels Calling (feat. Apocalyptica)​

It was also visible and almost felt the effect of being followed by the woman. She wasn't bothered by how the other woman reacted that way, though knew many could be even more dangerous because of it. It turned out to the spaceport that it was not possible to take off because of the siege; it made Ingrid's job easier. She had more time to be able to do what she wanted all along and followed Runi into the alley.

Even before answering the dance request, she set out to manipulate the shadows in the dimly lit alley, they began to run around Runi from all directions, as if the whole place had suddenly become even more shady. The few neon lights that lit up were obscured by the shadows in front of them. And Ingrid snuggled silently against the wall in the shadows, still invisible. Changed back to her original form under her armour and her daggers slipped into both hands.

~ No! You will pay! How does your conscience bear you killed an unarmed, injured man? It must have been a great glory! ~

No matter how much she wanted to speak with hatred, with anger, Ingrid failed. The voices were insensitive, cold, frosty, like the coldest night on any ice planet or in space. Her voice was a whisper, making an impression as if it came from all directions; whispering, as if speaking beyond the grave, was everywhere at once and Runi could hear them in her mind as well; the shadows whispered. It wasn't intent to intimidate, as she didn't know AMCO had acted similarly with the Shrouds, she just didn't want to reveal herself yet. So it was impossible to tell where she was whispering.

A simple "illusion" because the shadows were real, a small part of the shadows was Ingrid, the biggest part was her ability from her species. The shadows moved as if they wanted to bite Runi, the tentacles slammed toward her, then retreated. The back entrance of the spaceport was not even visible, obscured by fog and shadows. It was almost as dark thanks to these as if it had been night.

~ You will pay for the death of my husband and the father of my child! ~

Another cold but emotionless whispers, all of which echoed Ingrid's current and earlier words. Saw the weapon in the other woman's hand. Also reached out to the Force so that she could strike down in moments, she didn't have to wait long for this. Ingrid was patient; but to what extent could the other woman control her feelings and patience in such a situation?

 

[Seela Leini]

Location: Space, Bastion System
Equipment: Sith-Imperial Armada Flight Suit Mk. II │ “Judicator” Adaptive Battle Rifle
Fighter: Sith-Imperial TIE Interceptor (Shields: 60%, Structure/Hull: 90%) - Dancer Ten
Allies: TSE ( Onrai Moff Drybis Lyken Grand Moff Aut-X Thaelius )
Enemies: NIO (Fiolette Fortan Var Koon Savoh Muska Naier Rambeigh Scourge Harz Gordon ) │ GA ( Dracken Pryce )

The strand-cast’s reflexes were tuned as she watched the approaching formation of bombers and interceptors as they moved to engage the Gorgon. Her eyes darted between her sensor readout and the formation of New Imperial small craft that was growing larger in her viewport with each passing moment. All the while, chatter on Dancer squadron’s comms grew more frequent and demanding as Dancer One continued to issue orders, directing her pilots into defensive positions before the first wave of bombers and interceptors was upon them.

Immediately, 2121 was aggressive, firing off a pair of concussion missiles at the third bomber in the formation after establishing a lock on the lumbering craft. Then, a sharp jink to the left brought her into an unexpected head-on situation with one of the leading New Imperial interceptors ( Dracken Pryce ) in the formation. She initiated the challenge, graceful fingers squeezing the triggers on her control sticks to send off a salvo of six lasers from her cannons, aimed to hopefully strike at the central “eye” of the interceptor.

From there, she zoomed past the interceptor in a dangerous high speed pass, having not yet confirmed the effects of her shots on her target as she pushed the throttle. As she scanned her eyes across her sensor readout, a lock warning began to blare against her ears. A quick glance at the array told her the direction of the proton torpedoes ( Gordon ) relative to her position, approaching her interceptor from above and towards her right. As such, she banked her machine in that exact direction and plane, executing a textbook break turn while simultaneously activating her craft’s sensor dampener with the deft flick of a switch, in an attempt to jam the sensors of the torpedoes and the bandit presumably moving towards her tail.

The first torpedo sailed wide, but the second still held a lock in spite of the jamming and the sudden maneuver. All the while, the throbbing sensation of strain in her chest had returned, owing to the intense g-forces she had pulled in executing the hard break turn. The press of a button on her life support chest piece pumped more painkillers into her system, numbing the aching chest pain from her broken ribs that were suddenly placing yet more pressure on her lungs. Then, with a deep and slightly raspy breath, she pulled her interceptor into a series of high-G displacement rolls, constantly shifting the plane of her machine while rolling in an effort to evade the incoming proton warhead.

And yet…

The proton torpedo went off, not at an optimal detonation range, but still retaining enough energy to send her interceptor spinning on a course to strike the hull of the Gorgon. The concussive force from the blast threw her head into the control sticks, the howl of alarms blaring in her ears keeping her conscious as she sought to regain control of her damaged TIE. The taste of blood on her tongue was an afterthought as she pulled the control sticks, her fingers darting across switches in a desperate dance of life and death. Nevertheless, by some miracle, she managed to shift her interceptor into an optimal position, recovering control of the machine with only seconds to spare before what would have been a violent impact.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

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.

 

[Onansi of Thyrsus]

Location: Ravelin, Bastion
Objective: Reinforce the New Imperials
Retinue: Onansi's Sun Guards
Equipment: Gilgamesh Powersuit, Sword, Shield
Engaging With: Zakaria Black , Enlil -- Théodoro , Adron Malvern

MARATHON
​

The famed Sun Guards had become a commodity within the Galaxy under Khonsu Amon. Their name grew in notoriety fighting for the First Order in the western reaches of the universe, and then in the east fighting for the Sith Empire. Ties were cut, but still their name was remembered. When the Golden Suns returned to Thyrsus to free it from their Echani overlords, the worlds of the Six Sisters shook from the return of the Golden Company, and thus, the Sun Guardians.

It was a bitter thing, defeat. In his upbringing he had known it often. It readied him for when the reigns of leadership were put into his hands. Irveric Tavlar's failure at Dantooine, his own home was undoubtedly devastating. Repelled by what likely felt like the entirety of the known universe, preventing him from reclaiming his home was a weight Onansi knew he felt. But it was not one that he could share with. He could imagine what it felt like, he had those exact fears when Khonsu brought them home to crush their false rulers. The Jedi hadn't helped them when they had been in bondage, and when the peak of their ire had been reached, it was the Jedi that stood behind Eshan, attempting to act as mediators.

It was the Jedi that stood with the Sith Empire, protecting them from retribution by Imperial hands. People that sought to rise up and combat Sith rulership, cast down by the supposed peacekeepers of the galaxy. In the New Imperials, Onansi saw kinship. Revenge, bloodlust, they were the reasons he had come this day.

The Sith had returned to the site of their greatest failure in the wake of the New Imperials own at Dantooine.

As if echoing his thoughts, his second, Amari, strode up at his side. The red lights of the dropship reflecting off of his aurodium tinted armour. "They struck before they could recollect themselves." Onansi's head bobbed in confirmation. From his own house, he summoned the likes of Amari and their kin. Brothers, cousins, friends, any that would fight under the name of Sun Guard and earn their place in the afterlife as warriors.

​

Below them, the world was dark, entire districts black, their only source of light the flames of war that ignited the former Sith capital. Onansi could recognize little of the battle-scarred world. Attempts had been made at contacting officials like, Jaeger Harrsk at COMPNOR Headquarters, but there had been no response. Has Bastion already been lost? Onansi's molars grinded against each other. The dropship started its descent, steep, and the dropships side doors slid closed. Before they could shut completely Onansi caught sight of COMPNOR HQ. Or rather, where it had been.

Fires raged in its place and his features set into a hardened grimace before the door shut and sealed itself. And his hold tightened on the hanging rungs.

"Forego the Administrative Sector," Onansi ordered. "Bring us down here." Below them, the Residential Sector ranged on for miles. The New Imperials wouldn't let their people be crushed beneath the Sith Empire. "Find me Imperial Command." Onansi shut off the comline. Peering over his shoulder at his golden garbed brothers in arms, he nodded once. Dropping a pat to Amari's shoulder, he maneuvered through the crowded dropship and to the cockpit to ensure his orders were followed. Peering through the viewport, he could see the battle lines that the Sun Guards host approached.

From left to right across the window energy bolts were flung out from the opposing forces. Green, blue, red, the colours mattered little, for they found contact with Sith Eternal and New Imperial alike. A heavier storm of bolts fired from one side, closing in on the other that faltered. "There, they are the Imperials!" He'd point out to the pilot. "Circle around, bring us behind their lines." Pulling out from the cockpit, as the leader ship Onansi's orders were distributed to the rest of his following cohort.

At the head of the dropship, Onansi stepped back out to face his unit.

"The New Imperial Order requires our aid. We do not owe them. We could yet leave them to falter and die at the hands of their sworn enemies. But we won't, for they are not too far from us, brothers. For when the white, bright eyed demons enslaved our world, so did the Sith to their own subjects. When we rose up to cast off our chains and free ourselves from tyranny, it was the Jedi of the Outer Rim that backed Eshan. When Irveric Tavlar, leader of the New Imperial Order sought to free his own homeworld from the Sith, again did the Silver Jedi of the Outer Rim back the oppressor." Progressing through the ranks of soldiers, his head bobbed up and down, ebony flesh catching the crimson light of the transport as they neared their landing zone. Multiple streets, it wasn't the first time Onansi did business with the Imperials, and they were sure to recognize the golden tint of their dropships.

Stopping at the top of the still closed ramp, he turned back to face his warriors. "They may not be here today, shamed by the greater galaxy for their actions... But still we fight. For in history, we Thyrsians and the New Imperial man are kin in our shared strife."

The dropships hit the ground, some distance behind General Black's lines. Side doors and ramps were flung open, and the golden garbed soldiers charged out with cries for battle. From its place balancing on his hip, pressed there by his forearm, his digits curled into his helmet and was brought up and over his head. The world darkened for a moment, and then the interior technology of the Powersuit lit up around him. From the wall, he took his shield and struck the button next to him, triggering the opening mechanism of the ramp.

Gradually opening, Onansi could see that the Imperial line held, but faltered in some places. In other spots, stormtroopers retreated, covering each other from cover to cover as they buckled beneath the weight of the Sith hosts.

"Hold the line."

The ramp hit the ground, and the golden wave of forces ran past retreating stormtroopers, taking up abandoned positions and replacing those that fell. Where the Imperial line failed, the Sun Guards reinforced and dug in. Onansi strode forwards, it didn't take long for him to locate the likes of Zakaria Black and Enlil .

Towering, the Thyrsian Warlord spoke.

"My men are yours."

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

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

When the Sith drew upon his will to imbue the robes with a portion of his power, Elpsis could perceive the strands of the Force that bound them. In the Force, the robes glowed with Force energies - both the one that was already inherent to them due to their alchemised state, and the one amplifying it even further. Evidently, her foe was a sorcerer or alchemist of some manner.

Either way, his mystical talents appeared to have absorbed the shards each shotgun cartridge emitted. Crimson Force energies coalesced around his gloved hand, and Elpsis felt the heat rise. Then a surge of pure, unadulterated heat assailed her. It was powerful. She felt her own body temperature rise rapidly as blazing heat spread across her body like wild fire. The cracks inside her face glowed more fiercely and her milky-white eyes flared. It felt like she was on fire, burning up inside. And she absorbed the heat, embracing it like an old companion.

However, the Sith magus had not been idle. His Sith warblade was drawn from its sheath and he crossed the distance, launching a powerful slash. There was no time for her to dodge or draw her own blade in defence. Reacting quickly, Elpsis brought up her shotgun, using it as an improvised shield. A Sith Sword could not cut through blast doors like a lightsabre, but a rifle was a different matter entirely.

Thus the blade cut through her shotgun. The latter had served a purpose at least, albeit not in the manner intended by Elpsis. Swiftly, Elpsis dropped the now useless weapon and drew her sabre. Inferno ignited in a blaze of fiery orange. And from her free hand came a sustained burst of blazing, incandescent flame, aiming to cook the Sith. Her own power was amplified by the heat the Sith had unleashed upon her.

 

[Willan Tal]

Brigadier General- Willan Tal
1st Galidraani volunteers armoured infantry brigade
1st Battalion of the brigade 'Fighting First'
New Imperial Order
Location: Maxmillian heights moving to the fortress Imperator
Ally tags: Vostok Grauv Zakaria Black Ragnar the Untested Djorn Bline Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Republic Engineering FN-999 Enedina Tal Kolson Vrask Tyrell Paxxus Ravraa Vyshraal Noel Strasza Creuat Uriel Tokarev DECEASED Erskine Barran Arminius
Enemy tag: Luna Terrik Acantha Malvern Adron Malvern Ty Sibo Joycelyn Zambrano Cara Dorniarn

Forty minutes prior to Barrans arrival at the heights.




"GET KARKED!" screamed a Galidraani soldier who met a Sith trying to climb up into the fortified house's window with a short and nasty rifle butt to the face, sending the man spiralling out of the window with a howl of pain. General Tal and his boys had taken the old Mansion and turned it into an improvised fortress and command centre of the overall heights, with sandbags and furniture blocking out the lower windows and the door barred with crates. The enemy could only throw themselves in human wave attacks at the top floor with ladders, but Tal's boys slung them back with equal ferocity and courage. But whereas the enemy could recoup their losses and throw themselves back at the house, the Mansion's defenders were only a few dozen, and each death or injury wore them down and further stretched 1st battalions already strained numbers holding the heights.



Willan fired into the mob below before reloading his blaster rifle and moving away to the side, he primed a grenade and dropped it out of the window, being answered with the sounds of panic and screams of agony as the grenade went off with a flash and boom. Tal refused to be in the command centre while his boys bled and held the centre from being overrun, so he cycled between checking sitrep reports and taking up a place beside one of the windows overlooking the street. Willan had lost count of how many blaster rounds he had fired nor the number of men and beast he killed. He was so tired; he was practically swaying from fatigue. His whole body hurt from the injuries he had sustained, not just from the fighting that day but from a concussion received by Sith orbital bombardment.



"Sir help AHHH" screamed the private next to him as a Sith spawn grabbed him by the arm and bit a bloody chunk of his neck out before climbing in alongside another Sith spawn. The beast ran straight at him. Willan hunkered down and let the creature get close before springing up and smashing his Vibro bayonet deep into the belly of the animal. The weapon bit deep into soft putrid flesh, killing it instantly. However, the monster's body still hit him and carried him to the ground. Willan pushed against the corpse, trying to shift it, but his body was weak and old, so weak. Desperately he moved the body off his chest and down towards his legs as he clambered up onto his elbows and pulled out his service pistol and emptied the mag into the other creature moving for him. His vision was swimming; everything around him was becoming blurry. It was a struggle just to keep from blacking out. Tal was helped up by two of his men as others moved to cover the now vacant positions near the windows, he brought himself to a loud groan and thanked the pair for helping him. He stumbled over towards the wounded soldier and looked down at the lad, quickly checking to see he still lived. The man was still with them, but his breathing was shallow, and he remained unconscious.


"Get him seen to lads, he ain't done yet."

It would not be long now, he knew. In a short while, they would come in too great a wave and storm this position. Whatever blighted sithspawn they might've sent out of the tunnels next he did not know, but he didn't fancy being known as the Galidraani general who was killed by some vile worm creature created on Dromund Kaas. Tal had enough pride to not die like that. The Sith didn't care for losses, and he knew that as much as the next man. The poxy little wretches corpses had formed an ever-increasing fetid mound of corpses under the windows his men were holding desperately. Any longer and they might not need to use ladders to hoist themselves into the upper floor, they'd easily be able to climb on their comrades and spawns corpses.

He glanced around the room as he had done a hundred times in the past hour. Tal looked to his left and saw four wounded Galidraani troops propped up against the wall being tended to by Battalion medics, and to his right a machine gun emplacement that had been running hot cutting down scores of Sith legionaries emerging from the tunnels. This room had practically been his entire world. The fighting and orgy of violence were occasionally broken by radio chatter and information being sent to the makeshift radio room in the Mansion. He only received grim news of casualty reports and sitreps from other companies holding the line.



A familiar voice called out. Officer Pencin walked in with all the usual pomp of a Galidraani officer, though with a noticeable limp and big bandaged that covered up his thigh.

"Sir radio report in from call sign Punished hound, and it's from the commando teams regarding-"

"Kark that just give me the full radio playback Pencin."


"Right away, sir," Pencin nodded and stood to and led Willan to the radio station that had been set up in the kitchen of the Mansion. Pencin gestured for the radio operator to hit playback.


"General Willan Tal, this is Vandal actual at point epsilon. We're closing off this position and pulling back to point Dorn; we'll establish a chokepoint there. The Sith are continuing their advance but... should be able to buy you time. See you and the Galidraani boys on the other side, Vandal out."-- Kolson Vrask


At least some good news.


He moved away from the radio over to the map on the table detailing Ravelins layout, nearly every Galidraani unit on the battlefield was involved with the fighting. However, Willan could see that things were stable here, albeit not going well for his Battalion at the heights. 2nd company to the west had made significant progress, shattering the first Sith column they'd encountered emerging from the tunnels. Still, the Kandarans and 2nd companies' defence had stammered as the Sith attacked from above and below the city. 3rd company were bravely holding the interchange eastward to stall Sith flanking manoeuvres, but the Kandaran reinforcement could only prop it up for so long. But that was the price they'd pay until more reinforcements could arrive.



"SITREP on 1st company situation?"

"Thirteen dead, twenty wounded, four unaccounted for sir."


One hundred and sixty-three souls left, he'd have to leave a skeleton crew to hold the headquarters and pull men from other company sectors to shore up the skeleton crew here while he took the rest and moved to the Fortress Imperator.


"Pencin, radio the other sectors and let them know I am bringing one hundred and twenty men of 1st company to the fortress imperator, and to send any spare souls they can to reinforce Tariqs men and the skeleton crew here."


"Yes, sir."

Tals subordinates assembled the men behind the headquarters in a flying column formation, Tal and the COs would take the front and the companies best bayonet men and shooters would be in the front of the column. Only training and raw luck on their behalf would win them the day in the withdrawal to the fort.


"On my mark, we fire and manoeuvre, when the first row fires, the second row shall move up and let off a volley," Tal shouted amidst the chaotic rattle of blaster fire in the distance and explosions; Willan was met with a loud cheer of yes sir. The column began to move at a jogging pace, and as they turned a corner and met face to face with the first signs of opposition Willan moved into position and screamed loudly as he aimed his pistol.


"FIRST RANK FIRE!"


A flurry of blaster bolts met the unsuspecting Sith legionaries, dropping half a dozen and sending them to the rubbled streets with a hard thud. The second row moved up into position and crouched-


"SECOND RANK FIRE!"


Another volley met the Sith soldiers, sending the first volley survivors into further panic as they were torn apart and thrown into further disarray. As the third rank moved into place to fire a ragged voice called out in dismay.


"SITH AHEAD TO THE NORTH, HUNDREDS OF THEM."


And sure enough, there was, led by sabre wielding sith knights and acolytes. A few stray rounds hit the Galidraanis in the front row, but they held rank firm and stable in the face of numbers. Other military doctrines might've dictated a withdrawal, but on Galidraan the tried and true traditions remained even long after they grew out of use and relevance in the modern age. Sometimes logic dictated you do the complete opposite of what the enemy expected you to do.

"FIX VIBRO BAYONETS, UP AND AT THEM BOYS!"



​

​

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

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

LOCATION: 5 Miles away from Fort Imperator

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

<"Jorie to QMC Alpha! Shift positions as much as possible, but only if you really need to. Meet me on the southwest corner of the former first defensive-line, Thorn's nest before-">

<"Aye, aye. Ah know Sergeant Thorn was your friend, but you alone have the honour of carrying his number on your armour, and for the rest o' your service as a Lord-Officer of the NIO's land army! You can even have his number on your shoulder-plate if you so will it, and all it takes is surviving this hellhole 'til there's none left for us to fight! After all, it's an easy place to exact quick retribution, isn't it?">

<"True that, Heggy! But keep yer heid down so ah can drink ti that in person, eh? DT Alpha out!">

Keeping a wary ear out for the latest developments with his two best subordinates, the audio-traffic in Lord Erskine's comms-device had been quite busy at points, though it was mostly sporadic due to the fact both units were doing their best to sneak around the latest of Sith-aligned contingents to arrive in the area. If there had been other units in the area, the spaceport's largest armoured Sith presence yet would be having more luck in finding foes to kill; Barran's entire roster of subordinate officers had foreseen this long before their first rear-guard actions, with some even assuming such when they were still digging entrenching-tools into the grounds surrounding the Imperial Gate spaceport.
Poor fellows, they'll believe they're chasing ghouls and ghosts before long....

Whilst smirking at the thought, the comms device whirred with activity again, but this time a reply from an external source; quietly whistling to gain Shugg's attention, Major Barran held his right fist high to signal a halt, then gestured for everyone to take cover and keep eyes peeled as he knelt to play the holographic message. Checking his personal arc-of-fire before clicking on the message, Erskine's position had a few windows overlooking that had him ducking instinctively into kneeling behind an overturned billboard; no unnecessary chances were to be taken on that day, and that approach had been threateningly imposed on the Blue-Heart officers in the weeks before they landed on Bastion. Satisfied with the temporary cover, the Lord-Major was self-assured enough to hear Vostok's reply.

'Barran to Fort Imperator! Is there anyone outside the gate who can get a fix on our position? Anyone who could cover our entry?'

<"Copy Blue-Heart Alpha, current position is clear; I will aid in closing the gap, see to it that these... wastrels and their malformed offspring suffer. They've not yet learned their lesson. Punished Hound out.">

'Roger that.', Barran mumbled under-breath to himself, momentarily revelling in Vostok's brash encouragements before turning back to the others, then silently gesturing for the formation to move again as he stood to look back to the windows that spooked him before. Soon after, everything was going as serenely as the engines of the Cataphracts would allow, with everyone continuing on through Tal's trail of destruction until Barran's scouts brought the entire formation to a halt behind them. This was Lord Erskine's cue to move to the front, so he kept his head low as the others took cover again, running to the front of the line and muttering orders to every tank-crew along the way; along with demands to cut their engines, the Cataphract tanks were to embrace the new carbonite ammunition again, and their respective crews to have it all chambered to fire on the Major's mark.

'Milord, you need to see this.....'

When the whispering scouts made eye-contact with their Lord-Major, their sergeant shuffled forward with his head down; as the Guard-Sergeant nodded with reverent admiration, he pulled Erskine closer by the arm, oddly (and overly) adherent to Major Barran's need for silence. Handing a detached scope to his Lord-Commander, the Sergeant deftly guided Erskine's magnified gaze to the scouts' area of concern, and when Erskine saw it, his jaw clenched in plain view of the scouting guardsmen nearby. As Barran handed the scope back, he ruefully whispered,'You could've just told me it was sith-spawn, Rhone.', massaging his temples as Shugg sent the exact coordinates to all the tank crews behind them.

'Milord, twelve o' the Cataphract-turrets have a clear line-of-sight, all chambered with carbonite as ordered.'

Looking around to find everyone waiting on his final word, Erskine waited; seeing everyone in that state of readiness was a relief to see, pushing Major Barran to make his next decision inwardly as he turned to Shugg. 'Twelve is more than enough, just watch.', the Lord-Major muttered, standing to get a better view of the alternate-ammunition's carnage. The act of clearing his throat turned all heads back to their allotted arcs of fire, setting to action as he inhaled to speak, watching the distant commotion as Lord Erskine bellowed,'ALL TWELVE, FIRE AT WILL!!!!', with every ounce of willpower he had. As the muzzle-flashes unleashed the turrets' payloads, the carbonite ammunition left streams of shimmering-cold, misty smoke in their wake as they bore down on their monstrous targets, briefly distracting everyone until the Cataphracts came to life with their next rounds of carbonite.

But then the distant sound of an ICBM impact rang out through the city, audibly unleashing the fading remnants of it's shockwave on the areas surrounding the Imperial Gate spaceport, a moment that shocked everyone but those tank-crews who were too busy to notice. The only one who was unfazed by it was Major Barran, knowing that the high-powered detonation was intended for someone more than just stragglers, friendly-fire victims and corpses, a someone more who had long since abandoned the spaceport's defensive-perimeters; along with the two small fire-teams who had smartly followed-suit eventually, though whether they had survived the blast or not would have to remain unanswered for a while.
Chasin' ghosts, as predicted.

'Aye, nae turning back now, is there?', Barran growled, sneering at everyone around him as he yanked an NIO flag (along with the steel pole it was set to) from the nearest tank. Walking back into the throng of gathering riflemen, the Lord-Major held the makeshift banner aloft and readied himself for the wild charge he always dreamed of, then Erskine briefly gazed over to the struggling sith-spawn in the distance as he inhaled for his attempt to rouse everyone in sight. As he shifted the grip of the banner to his left hand, Barran drew his pistol and shouted,'We're almost at Fort Imperator now, lads! SHOW ME WHAT YOU'RE MADE OF!!!!!', before running off towards the wailing sith-spawn in the distance. Everyone would mount a full, charging attack in answer to their Lord-Major, running in with war-cries their ancestors would smile on; firing everything they had at the last, malformed roadblock that stood between them and Fort Imperator, the one thing standing between obliteration and momentary safety.

Boot-teeping and rifle-shunting at frozen extremities, Barran's Blue-Hearts would make firm use of the previous carbonite barrage, and easy work of all those sith-spawn who writhed in loud agony around them. The ones who could still fight were easier to envelop without their horrible brethren to back them up, creating a frightening scene of bloody, grisly chaos as the riflemen jumped their prey with bayonets and shots running amok; Shugg was even surprised to see that Barran was just as frenzied as his guardsmen and riflemen, watching as the Lord-Major stabbed unrepentant viciousness into a sith-spawn who'd struck out at the Guard-Sergeant, wielding his vibraknife with wild and reckless abandon.

'KEEP MOVING, IT WON'T DO TO KEEP VOSTOK WAITING!!!!'​

​

 

[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.

"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.

 

[Lunafreya Solidor]

O B J E C T I V E | Ravelin.
F O C U S | OPEN.
T H E M E | Here.
V O I C E | Here.
G E A R | Armor, ring, scythe.
Choker, whip, dragon.​

Back at Bastion’s fields, only to be scorn by Destiny’s sadistic ways. Not so long ago here she was, fighting over the ideals of order, stability, to bring justice and perfection to every corner that the New Order could be established, to punish the Sith Empire for their cruelty and crimes, only to be deceived, to have herself betrayed and watch her own servants being gunned down on the streets like common dogs. Much could be said regarding Lunafreya Solidor, such as her pathological need for taking control, her ruthlessness, her bloodlust, her heartfelt arrogance, capable of blushing the most narcist’s goddesses on this galaxy, but they had a distinct methodology surrounding her ways, and despite treating her servants as servants, forcing them on doing demeaning tasks, she always protected them. For in a way, they were much like pets to her eyes, for what could be said of a living being that lived as much as a cockroach would? Sometimes even less so, but when you pet them enough, scratch them behind their ears, and start to grow fond of them, they become just that: pets. And as much as she loved her pets, Lunafreya despised the idea of losing them, having them being taken away from her eager fingers, much like the last time she ventured on Bastion.

Her father’s prophecy proved true, much like it did three years ago, much like it did ten years ago, much like it did a hundred years ago. She was bold, bloody, and resolute, shaped to laugh to scorn the powers of man, for none of woman born would harm her, as a faint shadow she would rise to take her place on this galaxy, under the Sith’s beliefs there was the potential thought of perfection, of achieving what others had yet but to dream. Through the darkness, the power would be provided, for the darkness was the primal state of madness in this galaxy and to the darkness, all things returned.
“Open the hatch.”, the words snarled out of her mouth, causing Gentiana to raise her head and demonstrate a peculiar image, taken by surprise.
“Your Grace, we had only just arrived on the city limits, a lot of...”, gently raising her hand in the air, Lunafreya called for silence. The droid dared not contradict her, all she did was bow before Lunafreya and went on to do as she was told. Once she had left, the female slide her way towards the stirrups that awaited her, adding her left foot in its holder, using it as a support for her weight as she hopped on Sunfyre’s back. From the back of her head, her armor’s upper part slide itself to its position, safely grasping her body and making sure it was tight. As her eyes opened, Lunafreya raised her scythe in the air, howling in an ecstasy of power.

“Let the winds carry this vow. For vengeance and justice, come forth! My brave creatures, thirst for glory, and you, beloved.” Her hand gently caressed the spikes on the creature’s backs. “Unleash thy shadowy wroth over all that stands in your path! Make the blue of the nightly heavens be painted crimson on thine victims! Let blood run this night, and that Ravelin trembles before the Golden Sun of Enfer, Sunfyre, my love!”, beneath her body, the enormous golden dragon raised his head unleashing a mighty roar inside the hangar, shaking even the bravest’s of all her minions, and as the bridge went down on one of the Ungoliant’s, the creature rushed violently outside, flapping its winds to descend the heavens towards Ravelin. How poetic this must have looked, flying on the back of such majestic creature as a living goddess, bringing war and death to all in her path. "Let the world of man fall! I, Lunafreya Solidor shall set ablaze all things that dare stand on my vengeful path and reduce them to ashes!"

 

[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 | Republic Engineering
Enemies: TSE | CIS | No One Specific

P R E L U D E - Outpost Dext

The steel roof of the barracks that Anden slept under was something he stared upon. Focusing on the details and inconsistencies that the "smooth" metal roof had. Some scratches here and there, even a marking of initials on the corner. How'd that get there? He'd wonder, but he set his gaze directly up as he laid on the thin yet efficiently comfortable sleeping bunk. It was better than the hard rocks of a cliffside, or the claustrophobic foxhole he'd settle in back when he did recon for the Sith Empire. He'd think of his time within the trenches when the Gravewalkers were a force filled not in numbers but in fury. Most of his memories of combat deployments mostly came from his tenure under the Sith Empire. A hint of nostalgia, not from serving under the sith, but fighting with those under the same disposition as him. He remembered his other fireteam, the ones that did not survive their service to the Sith Empire. As they all died on Concord Dawn.

He focused his thoughts onto one member of his squad, not the narcissist, or the arsonist, or even the moral spirit of Onyx. He pressed his thoughts onto the rational one and the practical devil's advocate. Haktan. Just the mention of his name will remind Anden of the spark that led him away from the Sith Empire, the spark that was the destruction of Munto City back on Commenor. It was a demonstration of power, but it was so unnecessary in the eyes of the soldier. One that originated from a standard that put itself above such barbaric actions.

The former captain shut his gaze from the roof and settled his head onto the somewhat rough pillow that cushioned his head. His mind fading into the realm of dreams. Whether they'd be good or bad, was up to his psyche entirely.

ERRRRRRRRRRRR ERRRRRRRRRRRR ERRRRRRRRRRRR​

The blare of an alarm goes off, sounding off again the second after.

The shuffling of feet hitting the metal floors was heard, and Anden quickly rose from his bed. His trip to the realm of dreams will have to wait. Anden went over to his footlocker to gather his kit. An aged man donning a chest piece of the standard Imperial Army outfit, entering the barracks and passing a 58' over to the former Gravewalker.

"Get your kit and load up Fancelo! Head to Pad 4!" The Senior Imperial pointed over to the general direction of the landing pads, before rushing down the halls.

---

[THEME]

---

​

P R E S E N T - Ravelin

The clattering sound of gear colliding with another is audible. As troopers hop off the small transport craft and onto the concrete pavement below. The squad spreads out from the shuttle and formed a small perimeter. Lines of fire focusing on all angles that can hit them. Some eyes focused on the ground, others on the roof.

The Senior Imperial patted one of the soldier's back to signal for them to advance. Clutching his commlink.
"Advisor, this is Avala 1-2. We've inserted on LZ Wasp and are now moving to rendevous with the rest of the platoon. Will post overwatch at Point Nexus. Out."

Anden listened to the words of the Senior Imperial and gestured down the road towards the rendevous point. Taking the initiative and having his team advance. While his evaluations were complete, Anden still needed to go through some re-qualifications to get back to where he was at. But thanks to his military background, he has already been entrusted with leading a team. Although under the supervision of the 2nd Squad's sergeant.

"Besh, form a wedge. Watch your spacing and have your necks on a swivel. Opfor is already within the city walls." He stated, keeping his '58 trained forward as he advanced from one point of cover to the other. The soldiers that were under him followed along.

 

[Elicia Hejaran]

Objective II: Danger Below
Allies: Jaeger Harrsk

Not good. Letting out a huff of smoke, Harrsk was ominous in his warning - no reinforcements, no Bastion.

Another tremor rocked the headquarters, no doubt from Sith ordinance. Any calm Harrsk was regaining quickly dissipated as news came through on his comms. Her stake in the New Imperial Order was less personal than that of her COMPNOR counterpart, but she empathized with Harrsk as he tried to come to terms with his leader's betrayal.

Elicia had little sympathy for the Sith and those who followed them, but she wasn't unaware that they conscripted a great number of innocents from their conquests. A part of her wanted to feel disgust - legions of individuals forced to fight for a cause they didn't believe in for a nation they didn't support only to be ended by the faction they were forced to fight for. That sympathy quickly disappeared as the building shook once more from the shellacking ordered by one of the NIO's principal executives.

In the meanwhile, the Confederacy had also arrived. The overt Sith masquerading as a democratic institution, the very same which has claimed dominion over the Tapani sector for the past several years. Now all her enemies were in one place.

"We need to get out of here."

With a prideful smirk, Harrsk revealed a secret compartment unveiling an impressive armory for its compact size. Elicia was confident that her songsteel cybernetics and detachment from the Force alone made her a formidable opponent for any Force wielder, but this COMPNOR equipment was a welcome addition to her collection. As Harrsk began arming himself to the teeth, so too did Elicia.

"Never asked - but you married?"

If it weren't for her ironclad emotional control, she'd have rolled her eyes and scoffed. Instead, she elected to focus on the task at hand without dignifying the question. Her gender would not serve as a barrier in perception or reality, nor would she indulge rhetoric which might undermine such a stance.

"Let's go."

 

[Zaavik Perl]

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.

 

[Romi Jade]

​

Location: Ravelin
Allies: NIO
Enemies: TSE and Allies
Engaging: Other Space Kaiden

​

Jade's Wind screeched as it pierced the atmosphere, breaching clouds until it was engulfed in a fog that rose from below. The fighter careened and a readout appeared on the screen in front of her. A series of clicks from her astromech highlighted the drop zones location. "Remote control link established." She spoke through the comm channel, "Approaching drop zone."

What is that?

Her thoughts were her own.

Her initial visual scan was full of smog, her gaze darted around as she could made out sharp edges. Shrouded still, she could tell the overall surface was solid for the most part. Hmm... - squint - no figures in sight.

Her thumb slid under and flicked up -- the switch activated. The wings retracted, pushing the throttle up, she rolled her fighter.

"Passing it over to you R0." She started to unfasten her belt while her astromech took control.

----

She was a lone figure slinking away, pacing through thin veils of fog; and with each phase she could feel the tension growing and permeating the range of this area. This wasn't something natural...it felt completely static and of something ominous. She recalled her time leading the Green Jedi and investigating dark cultist and their mysterious runes carved from dead bodies. When she, and kale arrived on the scene, she was immediately hit in the chest with the most searing sensation of dread.

She continued, seeing no sign of life but feeling as those she would closing in soon. The only light was that which found its way down through gaps in the clouds that now roofed her -- her body had been split down the middle, in-between light and shadow. From a distance she appeared the relatively short figure and she moved with the stealth of an executor.

The deeper she descended, the darker and danker became the surroundings. Romi had already decided that her investigation would continue until she would find something else she knew to be present. She stopped, scanned several directions, and then followed the path around a toppled end of a high wall?

A stray glance -- then a double take.

Then she found it.

A chill ran up her spine...like a wisp orbiting her body.

There it was....

An obelisk of some kind...and a deep black so much so that it carried its own gravity.

"Odd..."