Reclaiming a Legacy (One Sith Dominion of Iridonia)

[Corvus Raaf]

[Post count: 6+4=10/20]​

Location: Still on that hill
Objective: Face facts
Theme: I’m not a finger pointer

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vi9_oBDqYAo

‘They grin but they don't mean it
They sing but they don't feel it
They're gone but they don't see it
They can call but they can't heed it
They think but they don't speak it

There's a beast eating every bit of beauty
And they all feed it

I'm not a finger pointer
I will not cry your name
For yeah brothers and sisters
We are one 'n' the same
But when my sister suffers
And when my mother cries
All I want to do
Is look in someone's eyes and say

You sleep and you don't dream it
You're sly but you don't seem it
You're busy as a flea pit
You struggle to perceive it
Is it hard to believe it?

There's a beast eating every bit of beauty
And yes you feed it.’

‘I’ll be careful.’ Not a long response but a necessary one. For perhaps for the first time Corvus understood why she had been so reticent to fight for the briefest of moments. For it could have been her sister she faced. What if it were? What if Melori was actually in that suit? What if? Two very destructive words.

Corvus was a Jedi. This was not about Nyx or Melori or Taeli or anyone. It wasn’t even about Corvus. It was about Jedi versus Sith – pure and simple. And until the Dark-side was stopped no planet could live without the ever present spectre of fear. Death by an one of many means; death because they were simply in the way. An inconvenience, stepped on because they dared to be born on a given planet.

In which galaxy was that right? So here she stood. Not as a representative of the Republic – but as a Jedi. Because she was a guardian and peace knew no artificial boundaries in space.

"Jedi. Look around you. This world is beyond your help now. Turn around, leave, and I'll forget I ever saw you here."

Corvus could hardly blame her for asking. She’d tried the same approach herself. But sometimes a line is drawn in the sand. They both gave the rhetoric but in their hearts knew neither of them was going to simply back down and slink off back home. It wasn’t a matter of pride. At least not for Corvus. It was about a Code. Despite the Sith mocking it, it stood for something in Corvus’ eyes. If she were to go to bed tonight, she’d have to check if there was truth between her heart and the Force. For once, the answer had to involve the igniting of a blade.

"Stay, and you will die."

A Jedi never activated their saber unless they were prepared to take a life. With a snap-hiss Corvus’ violet blade illuminated her face, countering the darkness created by the sun back-lighting her. Her foe would certainly recognise her now. She stood, atypically in the standard Soresu opening stance, her left hand outstretched, beckoning her opponent forward.

Her shoto was still dangling on her belt. Corvus was ready. She had entered Center of Being and the gauntlet had been proverbially thrown down. And, what the heck, she just couldn’t let the quote lie, could she?

“Fancy armour is no match for skill.”

[member="Vrag"] | [member="Darth Arcanix"]

 

[Vrag]

[4/20]
Objective: Duel [member="Corvus Raaf"]​

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CDJkUjWJoAo​

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Vrag, who wasn't nearly as knowledgeable — or interested, for that matter — about the quotes of Jedi long gone and forgotten, didn't get the joke. Was there a joke to get, even? Probably, but what got her far more was that voice, and that saber, and that sass. Oh, she knew now who was the figure so stoically poised on that pile of rubble, the woman so desperately trying to show off that she had the literal and figural high ground. A few years ago, it might have irked her enough to do something stupid, but Vrag had always been a patient duelist, and time had only seen her hone her self-restraint.

She wouldn't deign that pointless jab with a response, merely assuming a neutral stance instead of wasting her energy on banter and witticisms. At the end of the day, a lightsaber cut deeper and harsher than any words the Jedi would choose to utter, and as such the Hand of the Dark Lord resolved to ignore the statement completely.

Her feet moved across the rubble-strewn ground, the woman still rather high in her stance, but her opponent was far enough that she could afford it. Until they truly left the realm of conversation and let their blades speak instead, the firrerreo wasn't particularly worried. Grandmaster or not, Vrag had learned much since last they'd met, and if anything, the woman was looking forward to crossing lightsabers with her again.

The dead red eyes of her skull took in her enemy, placing her firmly into the map of the demolished city she had drawn in her head. As a devoted practitioner of Makashi, the woman knew full well how devastating it was to be cornered, and made a point of constructing a mental model of her environment to avoid such potential death traps. Being skewered amid some Force-forsaken ruins wasn't her idea of fun, and as such the Sith would do her very best to avoid that unfortunate fate.

Even as she strode ever closer to the Jedi with measured steps, the woman let her relaxed left hand move from her hip in a flash, jerking back in a short, abrupt gesture to attempt and dislodge the rubble atop which the Jedi was so proudly judging her from. If she succeeded, the whole thing would go down in a messy avalanche of detritus, durasteel and concrete, disturbing any balance — both physical and Force-y — that the Grandmaster had been trying to maintain.

 

[Iroatas]

Objective: Fortify and build military structures.

Darth Acarus's 'armada' so to speak of construction ships and military ships landed on both sides of the canyon where he had imagined the image of the Sith Fortress. It would be a towering figure, it's height rivalling that of the spires of Coruscant and the other planets. Unfortunately, they didn't have the material for that unless they were able to create duracrete and whatever other resources they need to build.

The Sith Knight stood on the ramp of his dropship.

Already hundreds, nearing thousands of construction droids and organic lifeforms were on hand. It was a great sight to see, and it filled him with a rush to know that they served him to some degree.

"My Lord, I have the men you requested to secure the perimeter and to search for any Jedi sympathizers and lightside supporters."

"Good," Acarus said and he leapt onto the closest speeder. He glanced behind him, and there were three dozen men on speeders, awaiting his orders. And dozens more in gunships. He was going to be going in one direction, then back again. If there was a report of Jedi or anyone against the Sith, or any threat, no matter how minor, Malphas would take to it personally.

And they were gone...

 

[Corvus Raaf]

[Post count: 6+5=11/20]​

Location: Back down to earth

Objective: Back to basics
Theme: Don’t walk away, in silence, don’t walk away

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1EdUjlawLJM

‘Walk in silence
Don’t walk away, in silence
See the danger
Always danger
Endless talking
Life rebuilding
Don’t walk away.’

Corvus was pleasantly surprised. As a Padawan she’d eschewed banter for actual fighting – it took all of her concentration as she never, ever faced anyone at her level until she reached Master level. In part it helped, as at least one Sith Lord that seemed to show up regularly appeared to find her silence frustrating.

But that was then. And now? Now she seemed to have fallen into the trap of dialogue and debate. Nobody every surrendered or was so side-tracked that they fell into your hands – or vice versa. So Corvus took the silence as a positive. This could be a duel without witty repartee – assuming what Corvus had to offer even counted against that measure of course.

So she waited patiently. She could have called any number of Force Abilities to bear, but she decided not to. Something told her this would be a trial of attrition and she would do well to conserve her energy. Besides, she was accomplished at Teräs Käsi, so her speed and anticipation of a strike did not need to be fuelled by the Force.

As she waited she scanned the area. It was derelict. Rubble as far as the eye could see. Nothing to hide behind, higher ground easy to neutralise.

As if a trigger, the ground moved under her feet. The varying forms of dead building were quite literally pulled from beneath her as her opponent clearly used the Force to Pull them away from their prominent position. Of course, it was one thing to sense an attack the moment it happened, quite another to do something about it.

Simple was always Corvus’ primary game-plan. As her foothold was ripped away, she tried a simple Force Jump to the side. Except even something as simple as a Force enhanced jump required firm footing, which she had been denied. On the plus side she took off and landed – so at least part of the manoeuvre worked well – but the in-between bit could best be described as wobbly. It was not a perfect trajectory and she landed heavily. On that ankle again! She moved it tentatively. At least it wasn’t broken this time. And at least it wasn’t Vornskr either. But it was sore. As a positive, however, as the dust settled she was upright and almost ten metres away from the Sith.

Holding her saber with the blade pointing to the ground in front of her, she focused on her opponent. Malacia was something she’d considered using on this armoured Sith before – and today was the day she was going to go through with it. It was, to all intents and purposes, a Force induced way of creating motion sickness – generating powerful dizziness and nausea by turning their equilibrium against them. And better still, it used the Sith’s own energy rather than her own. But if it worked on this particular subject was a matter of conjecture of course.

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Prime]

This unit was being deployed to assist the allies of Abrion. Since leaving the warzone on Geonosis, Prime was starting to feel… Unused. Prime, as far as a droid could, thirsted for blood. One of the Techno Union warsihps entered the area around Irridonia. And from there came a trio of drop ships. Filled with Clankers and Super Clankers and lead by Prime. The dropships were being piloted by a fly-by wire system and as they entered the system, a message was transmitted to the One Sith command ship.

"Marek Starchaser of Abrion Authority sends his regards.”

The Santhe S90MAATs were entering the atmosphere with the payload of wardroids. Prime was understanding the mission parameters were to await specific orders from the Sith commanders and follow the orders with the utmost accuracy. And on the way here, Prime did download several volumes of data about the Sith. These were the droid’s kind of people. As the S90MAATs touched down, the droids unloaded, Prime readied its weaponry and started to network with the first 12 available clankers. The Super Clankers had a better program and did not need to worry about Prime overriding their systems.

“This is Prime, droid commander from Abrion Authority, awaiting orders.”

[member="Darth Arcanix"]
[member="Vrag"]

1 Platoon Super Clankers
2 Platoons Clankers

 

[Vrag]

[5/20]
Objective: Duel [member="Corvus Raaf"]​

​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VSxIRilGtps​

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​

She never paused in her stride even as that heap of trash and scorched concrete began to slide downwards, spilling onto the ravaged street upon which they would, inevitably, do battle. She had offered the Jedi a way out — and meant it —and even though Vrag wouldn't have any regrets either way, it just made the duel more justified in her eyes. Whether she was right or wrong would be decided after she was long gone, which could easily be today, considering that her opponent had just leapt off of falling blocks of rubble to land virtually unscathed a few meters down the alley.

There was still a hint of dust particles lingering in the air, like a ghostly veil between two combatants who had yet to cross their blades. She'd met Corvus in person back on Cularin for the first time, but then the Jedi had deftly avoided direct engagement, keeping their exchange to ranged attacks and a the Force. It would not be so today.

The steps of the Hand never faltered despite the awe-inspiring recovery the Grandmaster had pulled — then again, she was the Grandmaster — and instead the woman was intent on closing that gap between them and finally force the Jedi to meet her sword to sword. From what she'd seen so far, the brunette much preferred to use her precious space-magic, and while Vrag would be the first to admit the power was useful, she never much liked relying on it as much as some did. Maybe it was just her, but the stuff was ultimately much more tiring to use than a lightsaber, and it certainly took more effort to kill with the Force than it did with a blade. As a sucker for efficiency, the firrerreo had done the math, and found it lacking.

More so when there were ways to… counter the Force. The analogue in swordplay, her favored style of combat, would be parrying a blow; that equaled something like, say, a Force barrier — or whatever those things were called. The next step would be redirecting the opponent's momentum and stabbing them in the back as they slashed vainly through the air where you once stood; tutaminis, right? And then there were armors. Much like you would laugh in the face of one who struck beskar'gam with the blade of a lightsaber, so Vrag would allow the faintest of smiles to stretch her lips as she felt the hiss and pull of the Force tugging at her life-strings.

Not this time, the Hand of the Dark Lord could feel an unpleasant scratching at the back of her throat, as if she had looked too deep in the bottle the previous day — or perhaps conversed with the Vong — but the Jedi was reaching for something that couldn't be touched.

While the Jedi tried to weave her magic around the Sith, the woman had crossed the meagre distance separating the two, her steps longer and faster from the armor adorning her body, and she never stopped even once she crossed into the wide measure. Instead the Hand of the Dark Lord would utilize her beloved Makashi to thrust at the exposed areas of her body, which were… well, all of them, in fact. Her feet would move in a quick ballestra to lend her additional speed as she pointed her blade to the woman's side. It wouldn't kill the Jedi, of course, but the kidneys hurt aplenty when they came to harm, and the searing heat of a lightsaber easily qualified.

______________________________________​

​

An Imperial Captain somewhere above would respond to [member="Prime"] with an affirmative order, sipping from his cup of stimcaf as he relaxed back into his chair, giddy at the prospect of watching what ACA had to offer. Such pleasant chaps.

 

[Prime]

Objective: Establish One Sith dominance.
Targets: Iridonian Security Forces.

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F21aifX0lZY

Accessing program…
…
…
Anti-Virus Program Initiated…
…
…

This was the bit of thinking that Prime required to go through when the Sith captain had given the unit and order. It reached out to its local command of Clankers and the droid now had 13 data streams, including the master data stream running through its processor. It could see everything and was beginning the march to the capital city. Flanked by the platoons of clankers and super clankers, Prime was leading the march. As it entered the city limits, the unit moved to the nearest public-broadcast terminal.

Around the city, various organizations, holonet shows and music and talk radio were being interrupted by dark synthetic music. Nothing else. Static vision and the music, pulsing through whatever channels the unit was able to access. Sirens began to sound as airspeeder patrols were sent out. Prime was as close to pleased as a droid could be. Pulling out its blaster rifle, a new repeater variant, the unit wished it could grin.

“Commence program; reformat.”

Sure, the programs installed in Prime sounded normal, but they were far from. Reformat was Prime’s directive to wipe all organics that put up resistance, not even armed-resistance to it. Clear the security force and make way for Prince Ali!!! the One Sith domination.

 

[Corvus Raaf]

[Post count: 6+6=12/20]​

Location: Iridonia
Objective: Duel
Theme: Tradition

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u2W1Wi2U9sQ

traditional
(trə-dĭsh′ə-nəl)
adjective

1. existing in or as part of a tradition; long-established.
“The traditional lightsaber duel was between a participant of the Sith and the Jedi Order”
2. produced, done, or used in accordance with tradition.
“A traditional duel was where two or more combatants were armed with lightsabers”
3. habitually done, used, or found.
“Corvus traditionally duelled using primarily her saber”

Corvus composed herself. Her ankle was sore but not broken and her brief attempt to affect the Sith was unsuccessful. Not an auspicious start by any means.

Malacia was not some intricate Sith magic – it was a simple Ability, like Mind Trick that either worked or it didn’t but it was performed and the result known in a matter of a second. So she metaphorically shrugged as her opponent appeared unaffected by it. You win some and you lose some it seemed.

And as she stood there, she watched the Sith close the ten metre gap with swift and purposeful strides. Corvus mused that today was another first. Admittedly she was facing a foe of a similar footing, but this was the very first time she’d faced one alone. Three Sith was a typical number that was thrown against her for some reason. Kashyyk was two, three no maybe four Lords – she’d lost count in the end when her ankle was shattered by that speeder. And there might have been a Knight thrown in for good measure. Her maths may have been wonky, but she had more…pressing matters to consider at that point in time.

When two Masters or Lords engaged in lightsaber combat, the action happened too quickly for the eye to see or the mind to react to. Everything had to be done on instinct; the body had to be trained to move and respond without conscious thought. To accomplish this, Corvus made her students practice sequences, carefully choreographed series of multiple strikes and parries drawn from their chosen style. The sequences were commonly textbook or taken from holovids, drawn from her own experiences as far back as the age of four when she’d eschewed Youngling’s games to study the various Forms. She’d re-enacted famous duels from history, looking for moments when she could see a different move would have changed the outcome. So she’d been teased by her peers. So what? Corvus believed that the difference between being good and being great was not ability – but practice. 10,000 hours to be precise. Or fourteen years worth of two hours a day in practice. And the science agreed with her. So did Darth Bane oddly enough.

So each and every day she would practice with her saber so that each manoeuvre flowed smoothly into the next, maximizing attack efficiency while minimizing defensive exposure. Of course using a sequence in combat allowed her to free her mind from thought as her body automatically continued through the moves. Using sequences was more efficient and much quicker than considering and initiating each strike or block on its own, providing an enormous advantage over an opponent unfamiliar with the technique.

But moreover she employed Center of Being. In conjunction with the obvious benefits of practice and the advantages of her Teräs Käsi training – as she used it with Soresu – it naturally allowed her to unconsciously defend from even the most flowing random attacks and feints.

So when the Sith gathered exceptional pace at the end of her short journey and thrust a saber one handed at her body, Corvus didn’t have to consciously react – instead she trusted in the Force, as she always did. The parry was one handed, shunting the Sith’s blade away from her body. But it was – as was often the case against a stabbing motion – performed in the inner ring and timing was everything.

The preoccupation with Malacia and the sudden turn of speed from the Sith meant that the smell of singed cloth, and moreover burning flesh meant she’d avoided a telling blow, but she had yet another scar to add to the catalogue. And of course – it hurt aplenty.

Yet Corvus smiled. Makashi – she was sure this was the Sith’s preferred style. Versus Soresu? This should prove very interesting. Both would look to wear the other down – one with constant probing and the other looking to avoid mistakes until the opponent made an error, exposed a weakness in their approach or simply tired. So Corvus remained in a defensive position, not looking to strike – but rather waiting to see what her opponent had in the locker. For she was sure the Sith had a few tricks up her sleeve (even if that was a mixed metaphore).

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

[6/20]
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https://soundcloud.com/nader-refaat/temptation-town-two-steps-from-hell#t=0:07​

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"Discover your foe's habits and discard your own."​

Thinking, in combat, functioned differently for most sapients. Some — well, nearly all of them, statistically speaking — became a frightened mess when exposed to life-and-death situations. Natural instincts kicked in, and blood coursed into the periphery to provide the necessary energy for flight; see, the ordinary mortal would run screaming and flailing into the opposite direction when they saw an armor-clad warrior coming for them. And who could blame them, really? The Order wasn't exactly renowned for their kindness and compassion.

And then there were Jedi; men and women raised from birth to fight the evil and darkness that the Sith were purported to impose upon the Galaxy and the worlds they subdued. Theirs was an iron path, forged in the fires of suns and cooled in the blood of thousands that would stand in their way, but it was a path that held true and did not falter. Where lesser creeds had fallen, the Sith persisted and soldiered on through the millennia, sometimes pushed to the brink of obscurity, but never gone. The Jedi, likewise, had stood at both ends of the extreme, at times hunted down to the brink of extinction, whereas in other eras, their Order blossomed and thrived along with the Republic.

And while her foe today was a Jedi without a doubt, Vrag made a poor Sith. Their teachings were aligned with hers to a point, but the woman lacked the zealous conviction that so many others held, religiously following the Code and the Dark Lord himself. Rather… poor form for the Hand, no? It seemed that the man, wherever and whoever he was, appreciated independent thought, valuing the merit of deeds over blind devotion.

And therein lies the gist of the matter, the essence not only of combat as Vrag understood it — and she understood it well — but also of existence itself; to revel in liberty and eschew all chains that bind the soul of man.

Woe unto those who would seek to dictate the terms of her freedom.

She did not care for limits neither in life nor in battle, whether by her own constructs or the ones imposed upon her by her opponent, and as the Jedi deflected her strike to the side, so the firrerreo moved from her lunge back into the neutral stance, but instead of pulling back, the woman deftly executed a forward recovery; a neat trick of footwork that would bring her into the narrow measure without much additional effort. She was merely using the energy and momentum that were already there, her boots finding ample purchase in the debris covering the abandoned street.

The Grandmaster chose to hold back, perhaps hoping that the Sith would stumble while forgetting one crucial rule of combat; tempo. The firrerreo pressed on undeterred, dictating the pace of their duel without any palpable resistance offered by the brunette. Vrag lashed out with her blade from the fourth guard, a slash that would travel in a near-vertical arc towards the Jedi's open left side. Her body would follow the strike, and she would utilize that sway to bring her blade back around in a moulinette around her opponent's defense, aiming for the right shoulder that the brunette would expose when she shifted her defense to cover her open left line. Even if her opponent had the reflexes to deliver a quick backhanded slash once she became aware of the feint, Vrag would remain covered by the first guard all the while.

 

[Corvus Raaf]

[Post count: 6+7=13/20]​

Location: Iridonia
Objective: Duel
Theme: High hopes…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-bD0ZG5_2w

‘Next time your found, with your chin on the ground
There a lot to be learned, so look around.’

Corvus held back for a simple reason - she was a Soresu practitioner. That’s what you did, waiting patiently for the opponent to make a mistake or overextend themselves.

Corvus was the eye of the storm.

Her own efforts minimal, her energy expended as little as practical as she parried rather than block blows. It promised to be an interesting duel and so it was proving - her opponent dictating her own pace - but not Corvus’. For for every blow attempted, the parry required less energy - that was the whole point of the Form.

The slash was parried with the minimum of effort, but as she pushed the blow aside, she felt her ankle again. Not broken but definitely not 100%

Then came the moulinette. Not a textbook Makashi move and it surprised Corvus. Again she was able to get her saber in front of the attack and managed to parry the blow but this time, in avoiding the simple block to reduce the energy used, she needed more assured footwork. Her dominant leg was back and on the rubble they were fighting on, she lost her footing.

In the scheme of things it was a simple slip, her foot moving backwards when it should have remained stationery. And if her ankle hadn’t already been hurting, perhaps it would have counted for nothing. But it was and it didn't.

Outlasting her opponent was no longer an option given the terrain - her footing was too unsure and the ankle pain was simply getting worse with every blow parried.

‘When troubles call, and your back's to the wall
There a lot to be learned, that wall could fall.’

So she called on the Force and entered Force Valor. The decision had to be made ands eschewed Soresu for the Fourth Form. Was it high risk? Yes and no. Given the circumstances it was the only call she could make. She would have to take the advantage and utilise acrobatics as well as strong blows.

She immediately countered with a flurry of blows, moving at high speed. To the left side of the head, the right knee, the right arm and finally back to the right knee. She hoped the change in pace as much as the moves themselves might catch her opponent off guard - for the impenetrable defence had now gone. She would now risk receiving blows in the hope of delivering some of her own.

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

[7/20]​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wqf1qXJyfz0&index=47​

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"Prepare to pay for victory in blood, but do not waste a drop."​

​

However deft her attacks were, the Jedi's defense was always there to provide a counter, a parry or a block, and were she a lesser duelist, the woman would've broken, her frustration spilling forth like water might through a crack in the dam. A mere trickle at first, and then, when the structure could hold no more, the whole mess would come crashing down as the torrent of anger burst through the last of the self-restraint with a tumultuous cry.

The thing was, Vrag had no intention of ending up a rage-riddled kebab on the end of a Grandmaster's glowstick. She was a creature of anger, but it was an anger that was steeped in the bone and sinew and muscle of the body; 'twas not a destructive sort of fire that would spur her to ever wilder feats of battle until she burned out in a blaze of glory. No, it was the low heat of a nurtured, thriving ire, the sort that made a body the perfect vessel of combat, and that was exactly what the Hand of the Dark Lord had done.

All teeth and no lips, her grin was truly a thing of horror, had anybody been able to see it behind the skull that was her face in these matters. Fear was a weapon she could utilize well, but not against people like [member="Corvus Raaf"]. No, the Jedi was far too firm in her beliefs, far to devout to her cause to be swayed by a predator like terror. It could only sink its claws into an enemy that let it, and the Grandmaster wasn't one to do so. The woman was, as far as the firrerreo had been able to garner, the exact opposite. Annoying, but not worth her anger. Not yet, at least.

Clearly it wasn't Vrag who was getting frustrated in this duel, for the Jedi broke out of her pattern first, lashing at the armored Sith with unexpected fervor and speed. Quite the contrast compared to the defensive act she'd been putting on before, and effective too.

Her sharp teeth gleamed in the red light of her HUD as the woman flowed against the change of pace, her footwork carrying her across the unsure terrain. She was the one moving backwards now — back, back, to the side — allowing the Jedi to assume the dubious mantle of the lead. It was such a pity the brunette was playing for the other team, really; the heat of battle looked good on her, accentuating the attractive cut of her features even more. Such a pity indeed.

There was no time to lament missed opportunities, however, for the Grandmaster certainly wasn't joking around; as dedicated to Soresu as the woman was, her offense wasn't half bad at all. The sharp teeth would worry her lower lip as Vrag caught the blow at her head with a parry of sixte that passed into the tierce to deflect the follow-up strike at her sword-arm. But even as she flowed from one guard to the next the Sith realized the third attack would connect; she couldn't be there fast enough, having parried with one of the high guards, and the warrior did the only thing that she could in the situation.

Her feet found purchase against the ground and then the woman launched herself at her opponent, aiming to break through her open line by sheer strength and bulk alone; with the Vonduun aiding her speed, the Hand of the Dark Lord would cross the negligible space afforded by the narrow measure in no time, and how the Jedi dealt with two hundred pounds of armored Sith crashing into her was anybody's guess.

Tune in tomorrow to find out!

 

[Stormtooper Steven]

Objective: Establish Sith dominance, capture the capital city and not die

[member="Darth Arcanix"]

Hindsight was a powerful thing. In the same way the trooper next to him, had he known a blaster bolt would whiz into the corner he had just turned, he wouldn't have felt the blast vaporize his brain as it passed through his skull. In hindsight, Steven shouldn't have been freaked out by this and tripped over a piece of rubble sending his blaster flying as he fell backwards. One would think having seen so many troopers get kak'd he'd be over it by now. But not Steven.

"Ow." Steven groaned in a prolonged exhale. Trying to roll over Steven could hear the blaster rounds smack across the cratered wall next to him. "Do the Iridonia subjugation they said. Maybe you'll get a promotion they said. It'll be fun they said." Steven complained as he groped franticly for his blaster. Behind him the group of native resistance had been advancing slowly. Until one had yelled in a patriotic charge. Well this is just perfect. You know what - kark this guy and his pseudo-nationalism. "Shove it!" Steven yelled as he pulled a grenade from his belt and chucked it with all the precision of a zero-grav ball player.

Throwing himself aside the grenade blasted the oncoming nationalists into a scattered assortment of body parts. Along with arms and legs, Steven's blaster landed by his side. "Huh. Neat." he said as he lifted the blaster.

 

[Corvus Raaf]

[Post count: 6+8=14/20]​

Location: Iridonia
Objective: Duel
Theme: You just provoke…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SyALWoc8B_I

‘You’d like nothing more than to break my face
No rhyme no reason no colour no race.

’Cause all I wanna do
Is get closer to you
‘Cause all I wanna do
Is make a mess out of you
Yeah eh yeah yeah.’

Corvus had the element of surprise in her change of approach – she could tell that – but like any such advantage, if it wasn’t pressed home immediately, it counted for nothing.

Speed and power were not something the eye of the storm was noted for – and without Force Valor, Corvus would not have been able to achieve the Form to its full effect. And she was aware that her double-handed approach gave the Makashi duellist the benefit of reach – except Corvus did not plan for this duel to last indefinitely. She just wanted to get closer to her opponent – and as the little ballad suggested…make a mess out of her.

She pressed and forced, for once taking the lead. Corvus wondered why she didn’t do this more often. Blow after blow pushed the Sith backwards until it was there – a blow guaranteed to strike. Except the Sith wasn’t where she should be. Instead the armoured warrior threw herself at Corvus. Her Teräs Käsi training anticipated it, but knowing it was coming and getting out of the way given the poor footing were two entirely different things.

Being barrelled into by an armoured foe when you’re wearing more substantial than linen was at best painful. Oh yes, it did not get any better than that. Add the fact that you’d just taken a saber blow to the body – even surface wounds tended to smart when bone-hard armour smacked into them.

There was the sound of a rib – or was that two? – cracking and then Corvus felt the ground beneath her back and a Sith Lord lying on top of her. She coughed as the wind was knocked out of her sails. She threw the Sith Lord off her with a simple Force Push and struggled to her feet. “Really,” she offered, “I know it’s technically a second date, but I think you’re coming on a bit strong.” Her tongue caressed her front teeth. One was clearly chipped.

“A good thing I chose dental cover,” she remarked as she contemplated her next move. The smart money said revert to Soresu. Anyone watching at home would encourage her to switch to Soresu. It was likely the Sith was expecting her to switch to Soresu. Did anyone ever say Corvus was smart?

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Having secured her part of the front line, her troopers continued advance while she moved back to a mobile command post to oversee what else was going on in the other fronts. She could feel the ebb and flow of Corvus apparently fighting someone, but she was tyring to not let her worry cloud their connection and distract her sister.

"Report," she ordered, stepping into the post and receiving salutes from the officers there.

"It goes well, my Lady," a ground commander said, bringing up a holo-display of the planet. "Roughly 1/3 of the planet is under our control, with the front lines pushing further into the major cities. As per your directive, civilian casualties are being kept at a minimum and it seems we're slowly gaining the respect of the people. Your theory that strength and honor would go over well in the battle is looking successful."

"If one knows their enemy, one can know how best to fight them," Taeli replied. "Space?"

"Under our complete control, my Lady," another officer said. "The remaining enemy fighter forces have moved to try and offer ground support, but so have our own fighters and bombers. More transports are coming down from the fleet to reinforce and deploy armored units into the battle."

"Very good, Captain," she said, settling in front of the holo-display of the planet. "I want to direct out forces to begin taking the other districts of the capital and send special forces out into the canyons. We have to make sure no resistance cells are able to go underground. Capture orders are in effective, but kill orders may be allowed if fired upon."

"Yes, my Lady," the ground commander said, moving off to the com console to relay her orders to the field commanders.

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

[1/20]​

Location: Wherever he crashed.
Objective: Try and survive while Establish One Sith control of the system
Allies: Anyone who didn't shoot at him.
Enemies: Anyone who did the opposite.

I'd be fair to say being called in as the reinforcements was almost an honor. Flying the Rogue Skipper into Iridonia space, Jardo almost expected to see a huge space battle he'd have to fly his way through and then tell stories about later. Yet, nothing. It was quiet, almost too quiet to say the Sith were down there.

Slowly Jardo brought the Skipper in with the other ships that seemed to have formed a small circle shape on the outskirts of a small town, seemingly under Sith control. Something wasn't right about it though. Even a man who had zero connections with the force could feel it. It was almost as if people were slowly hiding away. As if they were scared. Jardo shook his head, shaking whatever thought was in there away. He couldn't allow himself to be distracted while he had a job to do.

The Commander of his squad came over. A brute of a man who's weight seemed to be composed of muscle. Behind the Commander stood two men. They didn't look like much. Two men who barely seemed able to lift a gun. Jardo let out a sigh, shaking his head. The One Sith sure didn't look like much with those two.

Helmet, check.
Armour, check.
Guns, check.
Mental checklist, check.

Jardo had to chuckle as he slid his helmet over his head. Slowly the men marched through the town, heading upon a small desolate town just a few clicks to their west. Seems that the town was still faithful to the Jedi, still believing that soon the Jedi would come riding in to save them.

When they arrived in the town, their secret plan seemed to fall apart. One of the weakboys was shot almost instantly, and Jardo basically had to dive behind a wall of cover to avoid becoming Bantha Fodder himself.

Jardo didn't want to look, but he already knew what had happened. All three men were dead, Jardo was left alone, with only his pistols to defend him. This was one of those moments he wished he had a lightsaber, or at least some form of weapon that didn't involve the pew pew.

Slowly Jardo leaned out from his cover, taking a pot shot into the crowd of men that seemed to be responsible for the murders of Jardo's squad mates. Time seemed to slow as the bullet raced across the distance between them, striking one man in the knee.

That wasn't what Jardo had hoped for. He hoped to kill a man and to a decent cover spot, instead he found himself being dragged upright by four men, and another placing a gun to his head. Looking around for a moment Jardo formulated a plan in his head. Slowly he brought the plan into effect.

Reaching his hand to his other pistol there was a gunshot. Jardo didn't shoot, he didn't exactly know who did, all he knew is the Zabrack with the gun to his head seemed to fall dead on the spot. Jardo instantly capitalized, using the dead body as a launch pad to throw himself into the air, pull out his secondary pistol and clean headshot one of the villagers.

It wasn't done yet, however. Jardo realized that he now had a mob slowly forming around him. However, lucky for Jardo he seemed to have the only gun the village had. Lifting the guns Jardo sent out four, four bullets from each gun.

When he opened his eyes once again, the dead bodies lay around him. He was sorry he couldn't save the town, but ey, they shot first. Forget the One Sith, he wanted to survive this. Anyway, the rest of the town quickly fell under One Sith control. A few men from cleanup came through to wipe out the dead bodies and the woman were all relocated out of the town.

Yet this was only one... out of many.

 

[Gavin Terrik]

Objective: Ensure Sith victory without getting killed doing it.

His first battle. Gavin would be reloading his rifle, as blaster shots would pound the area around him,the gunfire deafening. A blaster bolt would fire right past his head, causing debris and his fellow trooper's brains to explode onto him, dirtying his new scout uniform.

"Eeeugh...dammit!" He would complain. Gavin would aim over his cover with his rifle, getting an aim on his target and firing, the shot hitting it's target as his enemy's head exploded. "Don't lose your head!" Gavin shouted. "...nerf herder."

Reloading his rifle, he noticed a large grouping of the planet's inhabitants. As he reached for his grenade, a large spray of fire rang out, grazing his leg and mowing down two more of his allies.Groaning in pain, he would round the corner and pull the pin, tossing the explosive into the soldiers as they exploded into a splash of blood and bits.

 

[Vrag]

[8/20]​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WZOBRbVCJL4​

It was a pity she couldn't feel it, but the woman could certainly hear the tell-tale crack of bone as their bodies met, the unyielding Vonduun clashing with soft, vulnerable Jedi flesh. The brunette underneath her served as a cushion for the impact of landing, absorbing the brunt of the damage as the two combatants hit the rubble-littered street. Whatever Vrag was going to do there — and the options were nearly endless, ranging from a coup de grâce to copping an opportune feel — was suspended in that limbo between possibility and reality as the Grandmaster surged against her with the Force.

Breath was knocked out of her lungs by the sharp tug of the Jedi's power, her muscles coiling along with Skerr Kyrric as she pressed back, her blue eyes snapping open once more. The Vong was little more than enraged by the brush of space-magic, roiling against Vrag as it seethed, hungry for Jedi blood. How fortuitous indeed, that the armor and the warrior were aligned in their goals.

The Hand of the Dark Lord bared her teeth as she went to slam the Grandmaster into the ground beneath them again, seeking to pin the woman's arms to crumbling duracrete at the wrists while the brunette was still recovering from the impact.

Vrag was rarely, if ever, one to talk during combat — especially when her opponent was as skillful as [member="Corvus Raaf"] — but she was still human. Well, firrerrean, technically, but you get the point. The Sith was high on adrenaline and the pulse of pain and the thrum of blood in her veins as she bore down on the Jedi beneath her, a towering mass of sharp edges with dead red eyes that would stare straight down at the woman. Vrag was, simply put, gloating.

"I'm more of a…" the Hand of the Dark Lord grinned behind her mask as she licked her lips (copper and iron and salt), the blue of her eyes flashing with unadulterated delight, "wham, bam, thank you ma'am kind of girl."

And as the last syllable left her mouth, the amphistaff that lay ravenous and waiting in the darkness of her skull would snap forth, aiming to sink its poisonous fangs into whatever unprotected flesh she could find. Since Corvus was a Jedi — and a traditional one to boot — the Vong beast would find unprotected flesh aplenty.

 

[Corvus Raaf]

[Post count: 6+9=15/20]​

Location: Iridonia
Objective: Duel
Theme: So who are you?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SBjQ9tuuTJQ

‘Keep you in the dark
You know they all pretend
Keep you in the dark
And so it all began.
Send in your skeletons
Sing as their bones go marching in…again

The need you buried deep
The secrets that you keep are ever ready
Are you ready?
I’m finished making sense
Done pleading ignorance
That whole defense.’

When people heard that Corvus had met a friendly Yuuzhan Vong they were sceptical. Maybe if it were anyone else, they’d have been dismissive – but they had given the GrandMaster the benefit of the doubt. The Shaper and her ship-mates had been responsible for the re-terraforming of Alderaan – which ended up being proof enough of her words. For Corvus had learned that the Vong that served the Sith were outcasts amongst their own people.

She’d spent time on their ship and with these people – and had even learned rudimentary Vongsense, an ability to form a mental connection to their biotechnology – albeit it required her to temporarily abandon her connection to the Force. Except immediately following the Galactic Event, the Force had been wonky and so she did not have to forfeit anything at the time.

So for a split second, she considered using this ability again. Not to control the biotechnology – that was a step too far, but at last to affect it. But the moment passed and she decided against it.

Being a cushion for a Sith Lord had no fringe benefits so she was glad her Force Push had given her some time and space. Albeit the respite was temporary and the pain she felt had not abated. Ankle, ribs and burn all fought for the right to say they were the most excruciating – and it was currently very much a three-horse race.

“I'm more of a…wham, bam, thank you ma’am kind of girl.”

Corvus smiled and rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?” She shook her head. “A bunch of flowers goes a long way you know.”

Understanding dawned on Corvus’ face as the amphistaff revealed itself. The Sith was not wearing any old armour, it was Vong armour. Saber resistant. And the living weapon she had at her disposal was virtually indestructible.

It was like Balaya all over again – what was it with Sith and their toys? Corvus realised now there was zero benefit in continuing the fight. What happened to the old days, when a Jedi and Sith would pit their various Abilities against each other and the better Force User would win? Now it was about who had the more impressive toys.

As a Jedi that eschewed armour and any gimmicks, perhaps she was a dying breed? Maybe one that would be extinct soon if she didn’t do something about it. Maybe future invasions would be better served by simply dropping a bomb on the Sith Lords? Not thoughts for now, clearly.

For now she had a venom spitting serpentine creature to deal with – and a Sith Lord in close proximity too.

Of course, being a traditional Jedi, she spent her time learning Abilities rather than designing toys. Using her enhanced strength gained through employing Force valor, she pushed the Sith away, and put up a Force Barrier to protect her from the venom and fangs and the body of the amphistaff itself. Regaining her feet, she ignited her saber and dropped the Barrier. Running was clearly an option but first she needed to see how impervious that armour really was.

“Showtime.”

‘I’m the voice inside your head
You refuse to hear
I’m the face that you have to face
Mirrored in your stare
I’m what’s left, I’m what’s right
I’m the enemy
I’m the hand that will bring you down
Bring you to your knees.’

[member="Vrag"]

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

[2/20]​

Location: Camp Delta Charlie
Objective: Root out that Padawan in the Canyons.

Self proclaimed Commander Snow. It had a ring to it. Okay, to be honest he chose to lead small group of five men through the canyons, making their way towards a small Zabrack settlement about twelve clicks north. This one would be an easy move through, no more being shot at. Jardo chuckled under his helmet at the thought.

"Set up camp, idiots" Jardo yelled, trying to get some basic movements from the "men" he was leading. It wasn't an official lead, no, but it was a lead none the less. Night was falling now, and it was going chilly down in the Canyons. Then, it happened. The sound of a lightsaber igniting. Jardo stood up, eying the Zabrack Padawan infront of him.

This would be a showdown, and one man wouldn't survive it. The Zabrack was quick, but Jardo was clearly the experienced fighter. As soon as the Padawan launched forward, Jardo dove to the side, sacrificing one of his men to the Jedi. The Jedi turned, taking a huge boot to the face from Jardo. Landing in a roll, Jardo kicked the padawans saber away, as he himself took a kick to the ribs.

He breathed, that hurt. Both his guns had fell from their holsters, and the padawan had realized his had lost his saber. Both men stood up, locking up. After this the Jedi jumped over Jardo, attempting to attack him from behind, but one of Jardo's men was quicker. Removing his gun, the man shot upon the Jedi, stunning him for a few moments, giving Jardo chance to jump for the fallen saber.

The padawan surrendered instantly, and Jardo clipped the blue lightsaber to his utility belt, his prize for the fight that he had just suffered. The men rounded him up, hauling the fallen padawan onto a landing shuttle. Prisoner transport at it's finest. Yet, even Jardo knew that he'd have to keep forward.

It wasn't over yet.

 

[Vrag]

[9/20]​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iEmmJTG5c9Y​

​

​

Maybe it was fate — or the Force, the two were supposed to be the same thing anyway — that didn't want the Grandmaster to meet her end in some forsaken town on a ravaged planet. Or maybe it was her skill, since Vrag didn't really believe in crap like destiny. Or maybe… oh, well, who the feth really cares what exactly it was that rolled the dice that day and got a natural 20. Fact was, [member="Corvus Raaf"] didn't die, and that was the short of it.

The long of it was that the Jedi also surged forward, surprising Vrag in her moment of arrogance as the brunette pressed against her with surprising strength. The push was enough to disturb her balance, and then the Jedi was already up and away, out of her reach.

Motherkarker.

The amphistaff coiled back, hissing at the retreating enemy in annoyance and anger. Its surprise attack had been spent without so much as a scratch on the nimble brunette, and it would make its frustration known with the ominous gaping of its jaws as it writhed in the air before the Hand.

"I'll bring you some belladonna and hemlock next time, then," she quipped back, her voice strained as she rose to her full height again. "Foxglove, maybe?"

"Or do you prefer heliotrope, Corvus?"

Her own red blade hissed to life again as the woman assessed her injuries while she kept the brunette occupied with talking. It was useless most of the time, but in cases such as this, even Vrag resorted to banter in order to obfuscate her true intentions.

With carefully applied footwork, the devout practitioner of Makashi would circle the Jedi, drawing the other woman's focus on the words leaving her mouth as each step brought her imperceptibly closer to the enemy.

"Devil's tongue, perhaps?"

The innuendo would likely go sailing right over the woman's head, seeing as most Jedi probably didn't even know what lay between their legs, let alone how to use it, but Vrag would welcome a different response as a sign of positive changes in the rigidity of the Order.

Jedi or not, a body still has needs.