Invasion Return of the Jedi | GA Invasion of TSE's Korriban/Felucia Hexes

[Zaavik Perl]

S H A D O W
GALACTIC ALLIANCE
NEW JEDI ORDER
VOS // Allyson Locke
ADVERSARIES // Gnox the Insatiable | The Amalgam / Maple Harte ? | Vaylin ?
KORRIBAN // SITH ACADEMY

[ THE TIDE HAS COME TO CLAIM ITS OWN ]
​

"A little bit of both. I don't know, it always feels good to blow something up, right?"​

Images of Zeltros flickered in Zaavik's mind. Long past and uncomfortably recent, the sounds of detonations on those streets echoed in his head. The machinations of others, and less pleasantly, his own. "Y-Yeah," he uttered in response. Maybe once upon a time, he would've agreed with a chuckle, but not now. If Allyson was keen on leveling the place, it wouldn't be Zaavik's place to object anyhow.

A toothy grin cracked across his face when his balance recovered from the shove. His Master's remark came in a throaty drone, absent of any nasal resonance. It was easy to forget that peculiar allergy she had, and given that'd slept outdoor overnight, the sweat and pheromones were likely wafting off him like no other. "I'm surprised you can smell anything. You're not exactly a can of air freshener yourself, you know?"

Following the lead, Zaavik dropped into force camouflage as well. The two stalked through tunnel and shaft deftly, emerging through the bathroom floor just as they'd done before. Everything was almost painfully routine so far, but sometimes that was the absolute best-case.

Just as Allyson's arrows made purchase in the two guards, the sound of a door whizzing open behind them caused Zaavik to spin around. An individual around Zaavik's age waltzed out, and their eyes met. Before the unknown contact could yell or react, Zaavik punched them in the throat on twitch, instinctual reacion. The Umbaran wheezed and clutched his throat, bending slightly from the pain. Zaavik winced. "Uh, shit, sorry," he whispered. "Do me favor and sleep it off, okay?"

A leisurely wave of his wrist sent the Umbaran into an instant, comatic sleep. His armored uniform clacked and clanged as his knees gave and dropped to the floor. Zaavik was quick to pocket the comms device before shoving the Umbaran back into the room he came with a few pushing-stomps. He slapped the door control to shut it, and let his hand linger to override the lock through the force and render the door bolted. One of the first tricks he'd learned, and it never failed to be useful.

A brisk fast-walk brought him to pace with Allyson and they entered the security room with minimal incident. The screens and terminals sent his mind back to the memory of the Machinist's trap. Allyson hadn't really explained to him what to do if that came up again. The initial flashback rendered him effectively deaf to her initial orders, but it didn't take a genius to infer what they were here for.

"Though with how big her butt is - I doubt she'd be able to hide very well in this tight room." ​

Big butt? What? Zaavik turned toward Allyson in the doorway with a furrowed brow. "I'm sorry, who? What?" He tried to peek out the doorway, thinking she was talking about someone specifically.

"Hurry, Zaavik, we don't have a lot of time." ​

He shook his head quickly, snapping out of the initial immature curiosity. "Oh, right. Right. But, how are we suppos-?" A pang of danger assaulted his mind. Coming on suddenly, like a ruptured organ. His body moved with little command need, grabbed Allyson by the back collar of her attired and giving her a firm, sudden yank. A shotgun's explosion echoed through the chamber, piercing the ears with malignant volume. Zaavik spun, replacing himself in her previous spot, allowing the momentum for both of them to remain on their feet. His ears were ringing.

Green lightsaber blade hissed to life from his hilt. Gripping in both hands he faced the assailant. And then-

"You've little to run, master Jedi. I have your scent."
"But run, regardless. You will not escape the feast."​

Zaavik's gaze darted around, trying to get a good look around without letting the immediate threat out of his sight for more than a split-instant. "Oh- He sounds, uh, friendly."

“Allyson~”​

You've got to be shitting me.

“Allyson Locke, and her little Padawan.”​

Zaavik turned again. Oh. So that's probably who she was talking about, huh? Nice. "I'll have you know I've finished puberty, thanks," he quipped with facetious humor laden with clear unease.

“I’m surprised you brought someone, I’d hate to see you lose another.”​

Something told him that was the opposite of the truth. Given the Sith, though, that was probably very obvious. He was sweating again. This was all going to hell much faster than he was comfortable with. "So, uh-" Zaavik took a step back, and then another. "We're lookin' karked six ways from Sunday right now. Wh-what's the plan?"

 

[Teica Giraan]

[Location: Felucia's Orbit : Bridge of the G.A frigate Peacemaker]

Cold air filled the bridge's atmosphere. Teica's head rested on top of closed hands. Wait for it.. She had been waiting for around half an hour now. Nothing had jumped from hyperspace. Well, better do something.

"Lieutenant.." she faced the sensor operator, "take a full scan of the Felucian battlefield...let's help our ground dwelling friends."

"Aye aye captain," the young lieutenant got to work immediately.

Sometimes, Teica scared herself. The very idea that a lack of violence on bloodshed could make her uncomfortable began to cloud her mind with doubts about what she was even fighting for these days. Had she enlisted in the Alliance Defense Force to guarantee the safety of the galaxy? Had she enlisted to kill the people who had caused her and others like her harm?

"Scans are finished, ma'am," the sensor operator broke her train of thought.

"Excellent..." she turned her head from the sensor officer to the comms officer, "Patch us in to General Treicolt and Major Tycho."

The comms officer flicked a few buttons and nodded.

"This is captain Teica Giraan of the G.A frigate, Peacemaker. I'm sending you up-to-date sensor scans of the field. Use them well, and good luck."

The Peacemaker proceeded to send it's heavily encrypted scans to the G.A ground forces.

She moved her gaze back to the viewscreen. Still a black void.

 

[Ryv]

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

I DO THE BEST I CAN TO RUIN WHAT I HAVE
​

For the first time in a very long time, Ryv found himself frozen in place. He looked into the temple and saw only darkness prepared to welcome him. Seconds before, he feared the sandstorm and its effects on the Jedi he'd brought alongside him. Now, even as it battered his body and stung his flesh, he'd forgotten it entirely. The nexus, a few short feet away, exuded an even darker power. It stained the already corrupted planet, like a cancerous tumor amidst an open, torn wound. Even though the blood flowed freely, enveloping him in its entirety, it was the sickly, mutated tissue that kept his attention.

He tried to lift his foot and step forward after Coren spoke, but it did not budge. The Jedi Master's words echoed in his mind. A reminder of the oaths he swore, the strength he drew from promises made. Those promises usually kept him going. If not them, the fear of failure, the people who relied on him, or his anger at what the galaxy stole from him. In this instance, none of it could push him forward. He couldn't find the strength to do what needed to be done.

"Damn," Ryv muttered. He took a deep breath and centered himself. "We've got the meld. Shouldn't be an issue."

As an empath, what others felt could be overwhelming. In a crowded room, it was almost impossible to find peace. Anything from hatred to complete adoration could pierce Ryv's conscious and threaten to break what calm he kept in his day-to-day life. Growing up, it became second nature to lock out the emotional impact others had on him. It kept him sane, made him feel safe. But he wasn't strong enough now. Spirits lashed out, their pain and suffering palpable so close to the structure.

He allowed the emotions and feelings imparted by Asmundr to leak through his mental block. A tinge of Auteme's earlier content breathed life into Ryv's body. His mind touched hers for an instant, no more longer than the blink of an eye, but she was still out there. At the assurance of his promise to her, he felt his chest swell, and his heart began to slow. Tenacity took form around the Jedi, a shield against the emotional drain of the dark side.

"I'm still here, Auteme..."

He finally took a step after Coren and passed beyond the threshold of the temple side by side.

"Truth be told, I can't feel him out there," Ryv admitted. "There is just so much darkness. It's blinding me. I feel like I'm just clawing around a maze with a blindfold forced over my eyes. A single wrong turn could wipe me out and trap me here forever."

He looked down a hall that broke away from the main corridor. An ethereal hand beckoned him closer as it gently slipped behind a corner. For an instant, curiosity took over. He turned back to Coren as if to bring him down the hallway and find out whatever that was. Common sense got the better of him, and he fell in step beside the more experienced Jedi once again. If Ryv couldn't trust his feelings in here, then he'd have to rely on the man at his side.

"I guess I should say it, cause you know, someone always has to say it. I'm pretty sure we're walking into a trap," Ryv stepped over a discarded femur and slipped his hands into his jacket pockets. "If it's true, and the Sith actually managed to resurrect a former Dark Lord, the tide of this war can change. I don't think there are enough of us out there with the will to fight anymore. So many are convinced loyalties to governments and other foreign bodies are to be kept without question."

"If something like that really is down here, I think it'll be easier for other Jedi to hide from their responsibility. I mean, who would wanna fight two Dark Lords. Hell, one is bad enough," he carefully navigated through another room, leaping over a small pitfall cleverly nestled away at the base of a raised dais.

As he drew past the platform, a wave of raw, negative emotion slammed into his body. He gasped in surprise, his foot sliding back as if expecting an attack. He'd felt power like this before on Kintan when he faced Braith Achlys. Her abilities and command of the Force dwarfed what little training Ryv managed upon returning to the Order. She threw him through walls, pelted him with stone, and introduced him to more ugly furniture than he'd ever wanted to see.

But this was different. Braith's power felt controlled, targeted. Her rage burned only what she wanted to.

This thing, whatever it was, hungered for violence. It wanted to rip Ryv limb from limb and consume everything that made the Jedi Knight whole. The corridors grew closer. He could hear each scrape of his boot on the sand-covered stone. His heart beat faster. Blood rushed through his body at a heightened rate as his heart hammered within his chest. Wherever the creature waited, it waited for him.

Ryv fancied himself the hunter, but it seemed he had blundered into a heinous trap. One that promised a painful end.

ALLIES | NJO | NIO | Coren Starchaser | Auteme
ENEMIES | TSE | ELDER COMPACT | Darth Carnifex | Other Space Kaiden

 

[Karn Syndulla]

Location: Valley of the Dark Lords
Allies: NJO Kenth Ordo Hal Vaiken Takui
Enemies: Sith Dimitri Voltura Darth Strosius
Equipment: Jedi Robes, Orange Lightsaber


The anxiety kept increasing as they raced across the red sands. The sounds of battle continuing to grow. His hand still kept close to his saber. As if it was therapeutic in a sense. It seemed that nothing could escape the dread there was of facing combat, of facing the darkness. Despite being a newly created Knight. He knew they inched closer towards battle. The Twi'lek gulped, as his Force senses were triggered the scholar was even more nervous now than he was when the speeding ride kept increasing.

All of a sudden, his fear, his awful anxiety was cut forth when the Force abruptly haled the advance of the speeder. Karn fearing that the explosives would go off. His hand going over to the explosives in the back. As if touching them to brace the screeching halt of the Speeder. Now he looked towards and sensed the darkness emanating from the man. Who seemed intent on stopping Team Rhysode. The Twi'lek while surely gripped by fear, then changed to sudden excitement as he saw the Sith Hounds, and spoke in excitement. "Ooo Tuk'ata I must examine that!" He said the scholarly glee coming out at the worst of times.

That excitement, turned to horror as the Tuka'ta came forth, and tried to advance towards the speeder. His saber activating with a quick hiss, as he attempted to bring out, and in a vain attempt to defend himself. All that changed when the man lited the Padawan, and sent him flying. "What! Oh no you don't." He said as he reached out with the Force. Trying to suspend his flying through the air. Angling him in a position. "Now, please if you can. Kill the Sith hound." He said as he stopped the Padawan from being flung, using his advanced skill in telekinesis. Making the being move to where he would be able to take a shot at the Sith Hound.

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

Writing with: Master Zoryu

"Notepad." The word was stressed with just the right cadence, activating a corner of her helmet's HUD to scroll a digital yellow square. "Dicta-" the sudden cough rattled through her synthetic chest, causing a cascade of short rasps and longer wheezes. Gripping the knee of her suit she resisted gravity's pull as the attack continued, each cough taking the harsh tone of static as it filtered through her helm's vocoder. Bitter gel from her lung's coolant mesh intermingled with the metallic sweetness of blood, pooling in the crevices of her mouth and coating her teeth. The sudden downturn in her respiratory system was baffling, the irritation in her lungs having begun shortly after planetfall. Still her diagnostic returned with all systems green, a report that caused Cara to flirt with ideas she'd rather have left to the superstitious. Once the fit was over she straightened her back, swallowing the vile mix to take a freer breath. Tired eyes spied the stars through the sky's haze. "Notepad." The familiar chime signaled the application was still open. She wet her lips then drew another breath.

"Dictate: Never, ever, return to Korriban. And fix static in helmet's audio filter. End note."

Interference in her comms had spiked the further she'd trailed from the landing zone, all but diminishing her contact with the few troopers who were left guarding the transports. Taking her seat on the speeder bike she pulled a datapad from her armor's belt to check the scouting route. So far she had seen nothing. Cold sand. Ancient ruins. Rocks. To Cara the entire planet was naught but a museum of Sith history, a reminder of the very beginning of the order and how the Jedi had created them.

Ironic.

And now the Galactic Alliance were there to lay claim to it. She sighed, knowing it was but a waste of time to all parties involved. "They could at least have taken that energy further south of the border..." Cara mused in a bitter tone as she stashed the datapad in a saddle bag of her speeder. The shadow swept behind. Cara rose from her bike in an instant, body quirked around to see...nothing. The wait drew on, the servos of her arms humming a gentle tune as she kept them up. Static warbled into her ear, scattered hisses and warped whispers. Nothing. She released a sigh then sunk back into the seat, revving the speeder's engine then releasing the brake.

Pebbles played ping-pong under the speeder's chassis as it pulled into a graveyard of stone ruins. But wasn't all of Korriban a graveyard? Cara engaged the brake again and slid from the seat, her heel digging into the sand as she spun a quick look around. Seeing nothing she dug into the satchels of the bike, removing two probots and holding them up for inspection.

"BLU-65, BLU-83?" Names invoked, green and red lenses powered to life on the twin units. Both sporting blue chassis, the droids stayed in their master's hands, swiveling their heads to watch the black dome of her helmet. "Good. Communication is chit, which means if you have any information, do not let it stack. Come to me directly. If no data before then, be back here in thirty."

Warbles of confirmation bubbled from both units in their own unique pitches. They hovered upward, gave each other a bow, then bumbled away in separate directions.

Cara watched them leave, leaning back on the speeder's chassis as she collected a breath. In her right ear the hissing grew. She shook her head and rose a hand to tap the receiver. But her fingers didn't meet plasteel.

She torqued her hips around only to feel the air squeezed from her lungs. About her frame coiled a smoking shadow, void of feature but radiating chill. It made no dent in her armor, yet Cara could feel it constricting her very core. Three embers burned into reality from the viper's face, and the hissing that filled her helmet's systems coalesced into a guttural voice.

Impossible.

 

[Ripley Kühn]

:// POST 2 | OBJECTIVE 3 //:
:// LOCATION: DESERTS OUTSIDE KORRIBAN CITY //:
:// ALLIES: GA | NIO | Chaaj Priest //:
:// ENEMIES: TSE | Onrai //:
: // EQUIPMENT: ARMOR | LIGHTSABER //:​

The frigid air caused Ripley’s lungs to ache as she made her way through the vast desert. Though there were no apparent signs of life, the atmosphere itself was living, breathing down her neck. The winds around her raged on, sand whipping against her cheeks, chafing them. With every step, the knight worked to tame the fear that gnawed at her. The fear of what could happen if she was caught in the hangar, the fear for fellow Jedi, the fear of the darkness surrounding her. The latter took the heaviest toll, with temptation looming in the air. The light was all but snuffed on this planet, and she could feel the pull of power in the other direction, resonating from the valley. A wicked siren’s call to all those who could hear, but Ripley refused to heed it. It had been ingrained in the woman by her masters that the power promised was a lie, merely a means to seduce. She let her mind probe, looking for any spark of light, and when found she clung to it like a raft. She felt the other’s presence in the meld as well- it reminded her that while Korriban may do all it could to render them hopeless, each one of them was a beacon of the light, and they would not be extinguished so easily.

Ripley took in a deep breath, the solace she found in her mind steadying her. As she walked, she thought on the code, of the time when she was younger and had turned away from her path. She didn’t fall to darkness, she just simply chose not to partake in what was laid out before her. She had only been a teen, but she thought she was wiser than the masters who came before her, warning against emotion. Typical teenager. As she grew, she had realized the nuances, and what the meaning behind those words truly was. Her Master had helped guide her even further, helping her find a way to manage the emotions that once ruled her, showing her the sacred duty was more important than anything she could ever desire. A slight nostalgia picked at her, a yearning for days gone by when things were much simpler. Ripley pushed it away, accepting the present for it was. As carefree as she had been, the purpose within her now suited her much better.

Finally, the buildings that rose from the ground marking Korriban City came into view. Just a dot on the horizon, Ripley made her way closer and closer, until the stories of each loomed over her. Most were rundown, a testament to the harsh conditions of the planet. Weaving through alleys, Ripley did her best to avoid any life she felt in the force. Clad in Jedi armor, she wouldn’t exactly blend in with the locals. As she drew nearer to the hangar, there was one presence in particular that stood out. It was wrapped in hatred and anger, sinister. It would seem someone was waiting on her. When she reached the building, she bit her lip, assessing. She couldn’t exactly waltz in the front door, and the team had little intelligence available about the location before arrival. Ripley peeked her head out of the alley she stood in, before walking across the street to the hangar. She wrapped around the side of the building, finding a maintenance ladder. Scaling it as quickly as she could, the rust of the rungs dug into her hands. That was going to need first aid later, though given what she felt awaited her inside, the minor wounds would be the least of her concerns. After Ripley has hoisted herself onto the rooftop, she fidgeted with the comms device on her wrist, opening up encrypted channels to Asmundr Varobalder , Ryv , and Auteme .

<<Strike Team Kenobi arrived at target. The enemy appears to have known we were coming. Proceeding with assault.>>

After the communication was forwarded, her eyes flickered around the surface of the roof. There was a hatch at the other end, presumably used for maintenance. The knight approached it, stooped down, and gave a slight tug. To her delight, whoever used it last did not have the foresight to properly secure it. She took one last breath before leaping through, landing squatted down, one hand on the floor to steady her. Looking around, she found herself in a dusty storage room, boxes and crates messily stacked on top of each other. Ripley reached for her lightsaber, taking it off her hip and into her hand, before moving towards the door.

​

 

[Creuat]

K N I G H T
GALACTIC ALLIANCE
NEW JEDI ORDER
STRIKE TEAM FEL

C O N F R O N T​

He would no longer tolerate silence and indolence on the matters of the Sith. The Silver Jedi had done nothing significant in countering the creeping shadows of the Sith Empire’s dark curtain. That particular shade of Jedi only stood still, allowing many worlds to be oppressed by the Masters of the Sith. One of those countless atrocities committed was when the oceans of Mon Cala were poisoned and killed many of the Mon Calamari people along with the act. Where was the Jedi to answer to the wails of those desperate? Few brave enough acted, but it was overshadowed as the Jedi sat idly with sloth.

A fate that could also afflict his home world of Glee Anselm, another world covered with endless oceans. But that was a bygone age of negligence by that generation of Jedi that now seemed to entertain the idea of siding with the same fiends that wrought pain and cruelty unto others.

Mistakes and grievances that would finally be corrected as today the Jedi would return, and it would return hope to the people it swore to defend. After what seemed to be an eternity the Light would break through the dark eclipse it once succumbed to. They were peacekeepers, not soldiers; but what peace would there be to keep should the Sith continued its rampage against the many civilizations of the Galaxy. The Galaxy suffered enough by the amoral practices of the Sith, and today justice would be done to them.

Strike at the heart of the Sith and send shock all over its rotten body. A daring attack with high risks; risks that mattered little when the importance of the mission was at hand. Everyone had their respective duties in their own teams whether it was gathering data or stealing artifacts.

For Rhis and the others, their blades would cut down the shadows of the Sith; tolerance for these fiends would no longer last.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.
​

“The Force is with us, Master Fel,” the Nautolan said to the Man of Iron from the New Imperial Order. Camaraderie between the Starbird and Iron Sun in their crusade against the Sith. Their dropship travelled into the depths of the Valley of the Dark Lords, the wretches of the Dark aside whispering to them. It’s influence was acknowledged, no matter how disciplined a Jedi was; the temptations of the Dark Side was powerful here in Korriban. They could appreciate this moment of peace, clearing their mind before their blades would lock with the Sith. They could not distance themselves from their emotions as much as they’d like to, but they could control it.

There is no passion, there is serenity.
​

The dropship suffered turbulence from the gusts of the sand, evidence by the shaking that disturbed their flight. More and more as they continued their journey. Doubt slipped into his mind; doubt that they wouldn’t touchdown and that this operation was suicide. Perhaps this was suicide and...

He shook his head, focusing on their resolve here today as he tried to deafen the presence of the Dark Side. Maybe this was suicide, but they owe it to the Galaxy.

“Take us to the teeth of the Academy, pilot. No fear! We've already made it this, there’s no turning back now.”

The order was obliged, pressing forward against the sandstorm to deliver the strike team at the gates of purgatory.


ALLIES | NJO | Rurik Fel | Mesh Zetnu
ENEMIES | TSE | Aeric Kaze | OPEN

 

[Sanguine Nocturnal]

L O C A T I O N | Temple Of Sacrifice
O B J E C T I V E | Vendetta of the Sith, III.
T A G S | Veino Garn and other Jedi Scum that wanna die
G E A R | Lightsabers, Ring, Necklace
Armor Of Virgo​

She could feel her skin burning. The female knew that meant without a second wasting thinking on that: she was glowing, the darkness that ran through Korriban reminded her of an ocean of shadows, waves of endless feelings of hatred, guilt, revenge, and pain, oh the endless pain that ran through the dead landscape of Korriban could almost make her shiver. When she was young, an ugly little thing brought from the gutters of a slave-ship, Sanguine trembled at the mere sight of the Valley, its statues and tombs irradiated such power and glory that made her feel petty, which she later discovered in life that she actually was. Sanguine never want it to impress anyone and say she is the best Sith beast that was ever born, nor was she the funniest, nor the cleverest, or whatever, she was just a regular sensitive, the Force meant little to her than did to others in her position, personally, she could most certainly admit she was the craziest queen in Korriban, at least, among the living. ​

Honor, loyalty, morals… those things meant nothing to her, as they did for many others that we're well-versed in her doctrines. Still, Rhaenys, as she was once called, liked to think that she was very passionate about her job, and more so about herself, she wasn’t foolish to admit that she wasn’t beautiful, her body was the most beautiful biological creation that evolution could provide, and she was attractive and knew how to use that in her own favor. Perhaps that was the last nail on her personality coffin, or perhaps she had always been different, weirder than all others, but now she tried her best to avoid going too wild, the pills helped her own that, helped her a lot, however, every fiber of her body doubted that there was a single remedy in this galaxy for the thrill she was filling right now. Being back in Korriban, her senses were going beyond wild, they became rancors on spice, everywhere she could feel it, this deathwish, this sweet feeling of sickly disastrous chaos almost tangible enough so she could touch its particles in the very air as if they were snowflakes. Snowflakes of pure evil. ​

With her legs crossed, Sanguine waited outside Marka Ragnos’s Tomb, and the immortal gods of the Sith knew how she looked like a deranged semi-sentient idiot, sitting on the floor, right in the middle of those gigantic stairs. Her eyes were wide open, moving all around waiting for the fireworks to start, for she knew the enemy was already on Korriban and the twi’lek couldn’t help but feeling anxious and hoping she could capture some of them to take back to her playground. Maybe see if could cross a humanoid with gamorrean DNA and create a whole new galactic wide slang, ‘Jedi Pig’, or maybe just feed their own intestines. Behind her, loud noises of thunderous roars could be heard, just passing the dark temple doors. ​

“Oy!”, her mouth vociferated, “Shut your muzzles, or do you want me to go there and do it for you?!”, the creatures almost immediately stopped. Sithspawns in cages had no respect for the dead such as the honorable Marka Ragnos, Dark Lord of the Sith, deceased whoever cared on how many eons ago, nor did they for the living when they were trying to listen to the screams. Oh, how the Jedi and their dogs such as those filthy imperials would find themselves invited for quite the party; a real monstrous party. Not far from where she was, blasting sounds could be heard, the enemy wasn’t far from where she stood, dreaming like a virgin arkanian before her wedding night, and Sanguine was needed somewhere else. The Temple of Sacrifice called, most of the Sith were going there, to what end Sanguine didn’t know and she didn’t even care of knowing, some said that a ritual was going to happen, something to defeat the enemy and turn their bodies on bones and dust, although others said that the ritual would turn all of them in Sithspawns, the female knew best and bouncing like a silly huttese bimbo, she went on hopping across the street. The great Jabbas could have their plans, their rituals, and secrecy, and she had her own plan. Her mouth opened and she stuck two fingers inside her own mouth, almost deep enough on her throat to be considered on practicing bulimia, taking them out and rubbing them all over her face as she started to moan, gently and fiercely like a pussycat in heat. ​

“Stars! Hide your fires, let not light see my black and deep desires! Ha, ha, ha... HAHAHAHAHA!” the female started laughing, a sound that resembled the mating roars that tuk’atas would give on the summer nights of Korriban, as she went on passing the moving troops, smiling as if this was Christmas on Nar Shaddaa all over again, they allowed her to pass by trying their best to ignore her, but the female could feel their gaze upon the half-dressed outfit she chose to wear beneath her dark cloak, armors were for idiots on her opinion and the dragonhide was enough to cover what it actually mattered on her body. The rest would feel like small painful orgasms burning through her flesh, and if she lost anything, as long as she was alive, she could replace it. Raising her head to the sky, Sanguine continued laughing and laughing until drool came to the side of her mouth, with her left hand she cleans that and licked it back from her hand, before starting to lick her entire hand laughing just like a cat with her long, red, burning tongue. Soon, she started to screech, and loudly she started to sing her words, quoting some forgotten scroll she read long ago... or not. “And Bilious Torment shall ne'er go by from this day until the ending of the world but we in it shall be remember'd. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers, For he today who sheds his blood with me shall be my brother, Be he ne'er so vile, this day shall gentle his condition, and gentlemen in Coruscant now abed shall think themselves accursed they were not here, and hold their manhoods cheap whilst any speaks, that fought with us upon BILIOUS TORMENT'S DAY!" ​

Her hands started to move on the field when the fighting started and all the army started to move around her. Like snakes hustling in the air, her fingers moved, dancing in the sky, as Sanguine played conductor of that cacophony of death, for this was the opera of pain, and she moved like its maestro. Not a single care regarding bolts, troops, nor nothing, thrilling energy of the Force flowed through her entire body, bristling every transparent amount of her that covered her lascivious body, while her two lekku danced on her back and her mouth kept on singing endless morbid lullabies that were fit of the Ssi-Ruu’s language, sounding like flutes and harps until the fire started to take shape among her fingers. Wild and blazing, small orbs of red flames started to fly above her head, down the entrance where she stood and all the way against the enemy, only to be enlarged by her will, by her mad will and exploding on touch as the infernal hellish desire of this mad, mad woman.​

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

T H E _ W O L F
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
104th MARINE BATTALION 'WOLFPACK'
Armor [ 104th Skin ] | Concord Brawn | Lightsaber

THE WAR MACHINE TURNS

It was time to make war.

The Sith Empire was a malfeasant stain that was now wrought on the run. The New Imperials had cut a bloody swath through the Braxant Run, taking with it the financial powerhouses that lied with the Muun colonies. Now the interior of the Sith Empire proper was lit aflame by another New Imperial offensive. His return from being taken prisoner for a seemingly nebulous amount of time by Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt , his under the table extradition was a swift process without any resemblance of formality or kindness in the gesture.

Only a warning.

A warning to Treicolt never to lead his men in hatred against the New Imperial Order again or he'd be returned to the Core in a coffin wrapped with the golden starbird in a plane of cobalt.

His return to the Wolfpack was solemn, his marines not having the chance to interact with him prior to the onset of the campaign to Felucia. The Galactic Alliance was finally due to make its presence known in the Galaxy. After a slog of two years along the Braxant Run, the end was cut and the Galactic Alliance began its military withdrawl. But this was not the end of its fight against the Sith, its crusade against Darkness.

The war machine keeps turning. The Galactic Alliance wasn't going to sit sick and idle as Darkness continued its long march toward its endless night.

As the bulk of the New Jedi Order claimed the glory on Korriban, the Defense Force was down in the brutal flora of Felucia.

His return to his unit was with great sentiment, but little fanfare. Approaching their corner of the hangar bay on the ANS Ouroboros, donning the rainment of the Wolf felt off, knowing full well the rest of the pack might look on him with shame, disappointment, bitterness in their eyes. As they readied themselves near the gunships, checking over their gear in final once over after the final briefing prior to the onset of this campaign, he approached all of them.

Disgust, stoic, disappointed, even past that shrouded t-visor he could feel that collective, piercing gaze settle on him. The Jedi, ever brazen, ever the appearance of confident and now the ever present plague of doubt congealed in his stomach again at the oppression of their judgement.

He spoke up, the man in the arena, unafraid of that pressure as he cooled his head to remain stalwart amidst it.

"Time to make war, boys. 'Nuff of the bedroom eyes, let's get to work." Maynard says, as if never skipping a beat in his position of leadership over the battalion.

<"Yes general!"> They said in unison.

Sith had to die and the Wolves had to hunt.

Lying in wait outside of Felucia's capital, Maynard knelt close by to the magnetically clamped 'foot' of an AT-TE, his bare gaze peering over the city walls as he glanced down to a displayed holo map, taking in the view of crackling Alliance callsigns taking in position around Kway Teow. Shifting his gaze to Loske, she noted that it was time. Time to bring the iron rain down over the Sith here.

What might've usually qualified for a brief but shared smile of anxiousness between them in the shadow of war was replaced with nothing at all now.

"Alright. Captain, transmit back to the artillery line that its time to drop the hammer, paint the priority grids with four ten round fire missions, we'll give them hit confirmation." Maynard commans.

<"Copy, General- Artillery line Aurek this is Wolfmother, transmitting target coordinates now, standby to receive...Aurek, do you copy?"> Static, a dead line of communication.

<"Nothing, General. Commo displays they're offline. But- COMPFORCE designation 'Diamond Snake' reports they're scaling the walls. I can give the word to begin the assault but it means whatever they have there isn't being softened up."> Looks like it was clear skies.

Maynard nodded once before his gaze peered toward the forlorn city ahead of them. With his right hand planted against his marine helmet on the ground he slowly brought it into his arms before lowering it over his head.

<"Wardaddy Dune brought his armor, transmit back to the 7th to move to envelop our force, we're moving in for the assault. Need reinforcements and fire support on call."> Maynard commands back to the Wolfpack officer with a point of his index and small finger toward him.

Turning to Amon Vizsla he nods once again.

<"All Wolfpack callsigns, begin the assault. Oya!"> Maynard says to the Mandalorian before soon enough he wills the saber from his belt with a pull of The Force before he glances the way of Loske, speaking through that intangible tether between them.

"It's good to be back..."

GALACTIC ALLIANCE
Loske Treicolt | Amon Vizsla | Captain Raith | Djorn Bline | Bayaz | Aerarii Tithe

SITH ETERNAL
Eldaah Aderyn | Karn Zhakul | Madelyn Lowe​

 

[Asmundr Varobalder]

PROSPERITY’S PROTECTOR | THERE IS NO CHAOS, THERE IS HARMONY
THE NEW JEDI ORDER | STRIKE TEAM SHAN
WATCHING OVER

A massive hand fell over the back of Leon’s when the Padawan reached out to reassure him. “Thank you, Padawan.” He boomed over the din of the Force-born storm. His cheeks flushed in response to the red grit that whipped against him, somehow, despite all its warm hues, the planet evoked a chilling response from his body. It was hardly as severe as Midvinter, but noticeably less neutral than Prosperity’s manually controlled climate.

Fear was a virus, threatening each second to spread its deadly contagion to the vulnerable. Asmundr traipsed through the rhythms, stringing through the chords of emotion and positioning himself as the antidote.

Enveloped in Master Zoryu’s overarching shield, Asmundr was able to focus on the end of each tendril from the centre of his mind’s eye.

"I will hold back the storm, Asmundr,

Do what you must."​

“And so it shall be done, Master.”

Each team would feel a natural pattern influence their thoughts like he was interjecting into a framework of interrelated lattices. Relevant parts of the code would reinforce them, countering any potentially negative spikes.

THERE IS NO EMOTION, THERE IS PEACE
STRIKE TEAM TANO | Jax Thio // Aveline Cuiléin
STRIKE TEAM WINDU | Oceiros Sunstrider // Shaka Sunstar

While in different locations, with different outcomes expected of each pair, a symbiosis existed between the teachers and the students. This group, Asmundr had confidence in. They fed into each other in a tight, natural feedback loop. A natural level of anxiety existed, but not enough for him to neutralize. Trust triumphed above all else. Something he would keep an eye on, inevitably, but relaxed against for now.

STRIKE TEAM FAY | Mato Kejak // Auteme // Lucien Dooku

Patience was ample here –– balance existed and he redirected his focus elsewhere.

THERE IS NO DEATH, THERE IS THE FORCE
STRIKE TEAM SKYWALKER | Ryv // Coren Starchaser // Veino Garn
A dark hunger stretched out toward the steeled minds. Their resolve felt steeled and secure. Asmundr felt no necessity in tipping the scales for this team, but kept a watchful eye on them as the futures whispered darkly about an impending confrontation. For all their historic differences, they were united in The Force.

THERE IS NO CHAOS, THERE IS HARMONY
STRIKE TEAM RHYSODE | Kenth Ordo // Hal Vaiken // Aramis Sunstrider // Takui
Exhilaration (a lot of it), confidence and affectionate frustration were prominent here. A muted undertone of sanity, as well. Asmundr pinpointed the node of emotion that focused on the thrill the youth was portraying, seeking the balance of others within the immediate vicinity. Between the three of them, their objective, there was the potential for chaos to be felt within them. They were certainly unleashing bedlam with their explosives, but for all the riling that affected each of the Jedi, he forced forward a balance between them. Harmony to triumph the chaos. And unite them all beyond their shared vehicle to the approaching enemies.

STRIKE TEAM KENOBI | Ripley Kühn // Karn Syndulla // Chaaj Priest
Further harmony and synergy existed within this team, and Asmundr borrowed the chaotic confidence from Strike team Rhysode to reinforce the nerves of Kenobi’s participants. Darkness approached them quickly, they would have to feel strong.

THERE IS NO PASSION, THERE IS SERENITY
STRIKE TEAM FEL | Rurik Fel // Creuat // Mesh Zetnu
Intense focus and determination were rooted here. A Master and Knights of The Force that Asmundr navigated gingerly around, reinforcing nodes of balance. The future murmured admonishments, guiding the space Viking to send pulses of tranquillity through his connection to the focused trio.

THERE IS NO IGNORANCE, THERE IS KNOWLEDGE
STRIKE TEAM VOS | Allyson Locke // Zaavik Perl // Bernard
Doubt. So much doubt. It made the Master falter before he was overwhelmed with rejection. Asmundr grimaced, a neutralizing sensation drawing an opaque curtain over the shadows that had been in Korriban ahead of the strike teams. In response, his hands twitched, making a quick gesture to withdraw his attempts from this individual, though he tried to remain attached to those willing within the team. His optimism dwindled.

The blip in the meld heightened his awareness of the shared proximity of Shan’s strike team. A foe approached with faux hospitality, vying at the innocence of the Padawan assigned to their teeam. To protect him, and by extension, protect all of them.

“Padawan Gallo. Do not falter and be wary.” His glowing eyes never once shifted in the direction of the Padawan, staring straight ahead into the Force and its interconnections he was helping manage and control. As an additional plead, to reinforce the necessity of their protection and Leon’s success: “We need you.”

ALLIES | NJO | GA | Leon Gallo // Jannik Morlandt // Master Zoryu
BATTLMELD AFFECTING: ALL JEDI STRIKE TEAMS
ENEMIES | TSE | THE DARKSIDE​

 

[Lucien Dooku]

DUALITY_OF_ONE
[OUTSIDE]
KAL'ORITSOR | DRIP

---

---

It'd been several years since Lucien had ventured this deep within the heart of the Sith's domain. He was a figurehead in its his own right, molded through the fires of warfare as a consequence of his New Imperial identity,, and as such he was fated to forgot the adventures of the past he once undertook. The spacer of recent memories had once traveled to worlds such as Korriban without a second thought to the consequence of his actions. The affluent of the underworld were generous with the credits when it was artifacts they desired, and his experiences as a youth would shape him into a man with not just the skills, but the brazenness necessary to plunder the tombs once of those who heralded themselves Lords and Masters of the Sith.

Their legacies would fill his pockets with much needed credits during those lost years of his adolescence, his mind as warped as the puzzling tombs that protected that which they held most deep in their pitiful lives. Regret never entered his thoughts; Luc hated the ideology of the Sith, and regardless, he considered himself an equal opportunist when it involved his previous occupation. His master had never shied away from bringing his student to lost enclaves of the Jedi, and on several occasions he'd utilize this knowledge to locate the treasures that their Order too held dear to themselves.

It was business, and it was never personal either. To throw yourself into the unknown with danger around every corner was, in a sense, a method of training of its own. The informal training of his master was unorthodox at best, shifting between the philosophical and the practical it's best, and never clinging to the ideals and guidelines established by the preeminent force cults of the galaxy. His student was destined for greatness, even if Luc would not see this till later, and to face the possibility of death by the unknown was a common theme by the end of his lessons. He learned to embrace who he was, even when the two sides of his nature seemed to clash in an ever constant battle for dominance. The light within him was strong, but so had been the darkness that brewed within his heart. Destiny would have willed him to fall to the corruption being sewn into the fabric of his beloved Serenno. Much like his brother, his future seemed fated to be intertwined with the Sith.

For a Jedi-in-training, such a fate was tragic to accept. It was simply a matter of embracing his destiny, he was told, yet his fate had always been his own to decided. He would walk his own path, even when the outcome of his actions was clear as day for him to see. Everything he once loved and cared about would fade into a destiny memory for him to grasp at in his dreams. The darkness within his heart was set free to boil, no longer tamed by the guidance of an impartial set of eyes. He reached a point where the destiny that was once destined for him from the beginning, had now seemingly reared its head on its own. The darkness that lingered within no longer subtly remained concealed; it seeped from his every pore, threatening to draw him back towards the same fate he ran away from willingly. Feelings he never once lingered upon were free to taint his thoughts, and make him question his nature, where he truly belong.

The hatred for the family who abandoned him to his fate.

Envy towards those who could still hold those dear to them close.

Revenge against the one who gave him little choice but to proceed down a path of his own.

For a long time he embraced these emotions to their fullest, and led a life that he honestly didn't regret. Even when he felt alone and abandoned with nothing but a ship and a droid to keep him company, there existed a poetic sense of justice to the path that he proceeded to walk. The exiled Prince's journey through the underworld had given him the outlet to figure himself out; to act on his emotions to their fullest extent, and led him to the current path he now walked on proudly. He embraced the title of Jedi, for what it was worth, but walked a path of his own within the cruel galaxy that shaped him into a man.

He no longer viewed the darkness within his heart as a sign of his weakness- a prophecy for those who seemed destiny to fall. He was who he was; the Light intermixed with the Dark, and within the paradox of his mind, embraced the duality of one that it'd become. It wasn't fate or nature that determined who he'd be, or what he'd become in the future. He'd cast aside the notion of destiny and seize his own fate by the throat if that was what it took for him to live, and live freely to craft a fate of his own. And even if that failed, there was one final lesson that his Master imparted upon him, before the true colors of the elder Jedi had come to light. It was a lesson that he took to heart more than the others, and one that he carried with him till this day.

“There were worse fates than being forced into a place where your choice of acts are limited to those where your soul burns brightest.”

-

It took a hand upon his shoulder for the thousand-yard stare on his face to cease from existing,, lifting him out of the deep pit of his thoughts. Their dropship had reached the ground, releasing the complement of Jedi and their allies to begin their assault of the Core world of the Sith. His thoughts were a wandering mess, even before their arrival into the planet's system, but for a moment the Prince had seemingly returned to normal. A smile curled onto his lips- soft but still there nonetheless. It was the least he could give to Auteme , to put on the air of confidence that constantly enveloped his presence.

The more experienced Jedi addressed the two of them, his words being accompanied by the force in an effort to guide them forwards, to instill a sense of calmness through the force. The gesture was appreciated, a nod being given in return, but the troubles that ailed his mind were on a far more personal level than just their current choice of location. Luc had stepped foot on plenty of Sith worlds in the past, and on several occasions he'd come back with a part of the world imprinted on his very soul. Night terrors and cold sweats would consume his thoughts for a time, but always had he returned to normal. Sithspawn and sentients alike were met in combat in defense of what they sought to protect, leaving with him the memories of the struggle after their departure from the real.

His arrival to Korriban should've been nothing to him, given his past profession, and the resolved mind that was forged out of the fires of the duality he walked within the force. It should've been nothing to him in the ideal scenario, but Korriban had become a world associated with a wound which he never wished to revisit. The same Jedi who guided him during his youth had reared himself as one who let himself be consumed by the darkness that he too fought to control. It was on Korriban that his fall had began, and it was there that a blade pierced through the man's heart.

It was within the valley that they now walked that the corpse of the fallen Jedi was left to be consumed by the world itself. Lucien left the world without second thought, and would only later come to regret that decision. Yet here he was, stepping foot off the landing ramp and onto a world that still haunted him in his dreams, ever a constant reminder of what he might have become. What he still could become. He wasn't even sure why he'd agreed to accompany the Jedi in the first place, but there was no turning back once the dropship had descended from orbit.

A sigh escaped his lips, his eyelids closing shut as he focused inwards, controlling his breathing as the older Jedi had recommended. He could feel the light within him, but so too could he feel the dark, reminding him of the history that bonded him to Korriban itself. He could even feel Kal'oritsor, almost as if the blade's presence within the force had been amplified by the location they now occupied. It was drawing upon the fear that emanated from the Jedi in their vicinity, feeding upon their emotions with a voracity that he'd never felt since the relic had first entered his possession. The energies coalescing through the blade were in turn pulsating through him, supplanting his lingering doubts with an unnatural courage of its own. The innate powers of the relic had surfaced to the extent that its sheath could no longer contain them entirely, enveloping his allies with the same vibrant energies that empowered the hearts of those around him.

He reopened his eyes, moving his gaze back upon his companions. "...I'm ready."


Auteme Mato Kejak Felix Astermo Lark

​

 

[Kenth Ordo]

O H _ I _ D O N T _ T H I N K _ S O
NEW JEDI ORDER
OBJECTIVE III: WAVE OF PURITY | POST III
EQUIPMENT: LIGHTSABER | BATTLE ARMOUR
VALLEY OF THE DARK LORDS
ENGAGING: Dimitri Voltura

So far for Kenth, the strategy of racing a circuit around the infamous Valley of the Dark Lords whilst lobbing thermal detonators at Sith proved to be quite good. "It looks like there's an armoured Sith Lord up ahead, try and get a shot on him, Takui." The Jedi Padawan called over the sound of explosions and the speederbike's repulsorlift generator, "Takui?" He looked back just in time to watch his fellow Jedi being yanked off of the vehicle by an invisible force. Before he could do anything about it, Kenth himself felt the speederbike depart from beneath him as if it had a mind of its own, barreling off into a rocky cliff face and exploding.

Kenth was unable to stabilize himself due to the sudden loss of anything remotely close to solid ground, tumbling wildly into the sand in the direction the speeder had once been going. Thankfully for the Padawan, the armour he was wearing saved him from any injuries except for a scrape or two on his face and some mild kinetic trauma. Groaning to himself, he tried to scramble to his feet as quickly as possible, noticing that a tuk'ata was moving in to try and dispatch him while he was still indisposed.

Reaching down to his belt, he realized rather fast that his lightsaber was not where it was supposed to be, reckoning that it had been displaced during the sudden crash. Looking over to see a glint of something metallic a few yards away from him, his hand shot out towards it and he desperately reached out into the Force to will his lightsaber back into his hand.

The tuk'ata was closing in on him, leaning down onto its forelegs as it prepared to pounce onto its supposedly defenceless prey, its sharp incisors bared when it leapt into the air towards Kenth.

Much to his surprise, the hilt instantly raced into his grasp like a loyal companion and he ignited it, an emerald blade exploding out of the device which he swung down, hard, into the creature and cleaved it in half. Its mangled corpse landed harmlessly on the ground, viscera leaking out onto the ground as Kenth whipped around to face the booming individual.

Context and location were enough for him to discern that this man was a Sith, perhaps even a Sith Lord was the galaxy feeling particularly cruel that day. However, in an audacious move that was likely to surprise all parties involved - Jedi Padawan Kenth Ordo walked closer to the man surrounded by his 'pets', his face as stoic as ever as he addressed Karn Syndulla without looking at him.

"Make sure Takui is alright... I... I will deal with this one..."

Remembering all he had read and trained in lightsaber combat, Kenth twirled his lightsaber in his hand, holding the blade behind his head and angling it forward to be parallel with his arm as the other was outstretched towards his opponent in silent challenge, his dominant foot positioned in the rear to brace himself.

"Your move."

Hal Vaiken | Darth Strosius ​

 

[Rurik Fel]

M A N _ O F _ I R O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LORD EXECUTOR
THE IMPERIAL KNIGHTS
RETURN OF THE JEDI
THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK
Iron Skin | Lightsaber
Creuat | Mesh Zetnu

WORLD OF THE DEAD

Passion is Loyalty
​

The Jedi and the Creed they coveted so closely was twisted and pulled astray by its indecision. By its inability to unite as one in rightful crusade and vindicated vengeance on the darkness. The blight of the Galaxy, the antithesis to order. Now, in its putrid false and disgusting alliance to the Galactic elders, the Sith must be punished where it truly pained them.

While the New Imperial Order marched world by world from the Braxant Run to Dromund Kaas, the Galactic Alliance opted to pull the dagger into the heart. His roots ever steeped in his alignment to the Jedi Order, if they would accept him, he would be there.

His most vaunted task.

The death of the Sith.

There could be no better venue than Korriban.

He was assigned his Task Force, no doubt with great reluctance from the New Jedi. Named in ode to his own lineage...Fel. Aligned with their task of snuffing out the darkness where ever it made roam, it was fitting designation. The proper task of the Imperial Knight, now shared with the Jedi as it was ages ago when Krayt's One Sith ruled tyrannical over the Galaxy.

Now they were here, Korriban proper, the beating heart of the Sith holy worlds. The darkness was thriving here, a force of nature all its own.

Good.

There was no misfortune in seeking out the enemy, for it was all around them.

"The Force is the will by which we will have our retribution unto the darkness. For it yearns for a Galaxy of order. As all things must be. As all things will be." Rurik replies to the Nautolan and to his demand of urgency, to veer them immediately into the Academy.

He admired the spirit, and obliged silently as the dropship careened its course toward the Sith academy before a venue of landing deemed acceptable to the pilot and passengers in its distance allowed them to set down. The troop bay doors swung open and Rurik pulled the hilt of the blade from his belt, willed to him by the force before he jumped out through the windswept sand storm and into the rusted rock beneath.

Clutching the blade in his cybernetic hand he slowly marched his way toward the Academy. The dropship was quick to disperse after delivering its cargo, the crusade.

"Who goes there?" A sentry sounded out at the sight of Rurik's cloaked silhouette, a reach of his left arm out and tightening pull of his hand sent him flying toward the Imperial knight before the argent blade ignited in his other hand, the Knight's blade moving to impale the Sith immediately upon his sword of vengeance.

Peering into those dying eyes past his metal face, Rurik spoke.

"The end." He says before he swipes the blade up through the flesh before severing him right in two, the corpse trembling to the rusted rock beneath.

A few more paces forward and the Academy's entrance proper was unveiled before him. Sheathing his saber once more, he continued his slow and methodical march, the man in iron within his cloak of argent advanced the Academy steps toward the entrance hall.

He was Rurik Fel, he would have his vengeance.

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Grand Vizier Madelyn Lowe
Location: Kway Teow Relay Station, Felucia
Objective: Move to the relay station, defend Kway Teow.
Attn:
Aerarii Tithe | Maynard Treicolt | Captain Raith
Eldaah Aderyn

“There is, of course, a darkness hanging over our Empire.”
-Madelyn Lowe, Grand Vizier inauguration ceremony.​

There are a few things one had to remember about the jungle. First, it was hot, incredibly hot. The air wore you down, sapped the energy from your bones, willed the unfortunate souls wandering its depths to simply lie down, to stop and let the creeping vines cover you over. Second, the muck was inescapable. It coats you and clings to you, refuses to wash out from hair, fingernails, the creases beneath the eyes. Slowly, over days and weeks, you become covered.

All of this Madelyn knew from growing up on her homeworld, on Varonat. She could deal with the oppressive heat, with the way the mud stuck to her boots. She knew that from her childhood marching with the Imperial Youth. That she could deal with.

But Felucia was different, hostile in new and unpredictable ways. Varonat’s jungles were positively tame compared to here, where everything stung, strangled, scratched or bit. The Sith-Imperials trudged through it agonisingly slowly. Always tense, always alertly watching for the next novel threat.

So it was that they had spent the last month, sending Legion patrols to stalk after GADF strike teams worming their way through the jungle and slipping behind the Empire’s defensive lines. Casualties had been abnormally high, even for the Legion. It seemed that every clash with the Alliance left almost nobody to walk away, and still the campaign wore on. Each morning Madelyn saw off the patrol teams, and welcomed home the straggling few who returned from the dark, loud green of the jungle.

This day was different, though. They had rebuffed Alliance strikes at the capital before, but as Madelyn swung her legs from her cot she was greeted with the news that the GADF were growing closer by the hour. It was the opinion of her senior staff that an all-out assault from the Alliance battlegroup was inevitable within the next few days. She had been inclined to agree, and things had come to pass as such.

Stepping outside her quarters, she grimaced as the wet heat hit her once again. At the city gate, Legionnaires hefted portable barricades, sliding them into place in front of the city gates, deploying blaster cannons, slipping on their helmets, their black-clad armour marred with a month’s worth of mud and grime. They were weary, injured and worn-down, but they would not waver.

Madelyn jumped into a battered speeder just as the first rounds of artillery began to fall on the city. The explosions boomed dully as they whipped past the exterior fortifications, where the planetary defence forces were hunkered down, preparing for the Alliance soldiers to pour through the trees, for the walkers to brush past the canopy.

“Comm Centre, and quickly.” Spoke Madelyn into her headset, watching the back of the pilot’s head as he nodded in acknowledgement. She had precious little protection compared to her Legionnaires, only a chestplate and simple combat helmet. Where they were armoured head to toe she was clad in knee-high boots, a field uniform and a now-filthy jacket with a hefty service pistol stuck in the pocket. It was hardly ideal for close urban combat, but with a bit of luck it wouldn’t come to that.

Even in the short time it took for them to travel to the relay station, the barrage had worsened, and the report of shots could be heard from the edge of the city. She had faith in the Legionnaires that they would fight to the last soldier, they always did. If the Alliance was to take Kway Teow, it wouldn’t be without a fight. They would make them hurt.

The speeder slowed to a stop and Madelyn leapt out, her feet thudding into the mud in a motion that had become well-practised. A trio of Legionnaires followed, and she waved off the speeder as she turned to face the relay station. It was lucky they had it here, such a nerve centre by the city would certainly make it easier to coordinate their efforts.

Another Sith-Imperial speeder appeared in the distance, no doubt delivering a few more senior staff to the station. Madelyn paid it no mind, turning her head away and stepping through the darkened entrance.

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim-Ragal
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud
The Red Witch; The Night Queen, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium​

Location: Valley of the Kings, Korriban
Objective: Protect AMCO from any trouble.
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | Heilagr MK. I Assassin Armour | G1 OmniLink || Shield talisman | Empyrean gland | Taozin amulet
Tag: Beltran Rarr

There were far more people in this neighbourhood than she thought. For now, the red-haired woman was still waiting in front of the forgotten tomb where Adrian worked. She felt someone else appear inside. She didn’t recognize the Force Ghost’s Force-pattern, but this was natural, there were a lot of entities and spirits from the past. Probably this one was who owned the grave. She was really curious about something like that, that is, rather not. The way she thought about what had happened the last two times when she met with a Force Ghost or Force Entity. True, both were a former shadow-born, but even then it wasn’t a pleasant encounter. The good thing about this place was that she could easily gain dark side forces. It was easier to practice.

It may have been weird, but she was still having trouble using her emotions. So she still had to steal from others. However, this was positive because even though it became a semi-Force Entity, she was still able to remain independent of the Force and the depths of the Dark Side. All this in such a way that in fact all three persons who had ever taught her were Darksiders. Life sometimes holds surprises. Even the last few crates that were still missing have now been placed on the ship. In fact, they were ready to go out here. All it took was one for this departure, Darth Prospero.

Ingrid continued to listen to the reports, but her admirals and generals did well, they didn't really need any extra support. She always loved having her people fit for the job and not having to check them every minute. Even if she could not trust others in matters of private life, she could at least trust the judgment of military commanders on the battlefield. In most cases, the one she didn’t trust was replaced by someone who was better suited to the task.

So she waited, looking through the Sithspawns and demons in the area. Not so long ago, even summoning a smoke demon caused difficulty, but now she was capable of quite a few things. Fortunately she learned quickly and found a great teacher in the person of AMCO . She loved how they can teach each other and understand each other well in this area as well just like in any other topics. And probably not many people except her lover knew where she was at the moment in the Force using. She still kept this a secret from others.

She looked around and began to concentrate, absorbing a little of the nearby Dark Side energies, and then using it to begin casting magic and spell…

​

 

[Mesh Zetnu]

Mesh Zetnu // Return of the Jedi // Strike Team Fel Rurik Fel Creuat // Outside the Sith Academy // Kill Sith
1x Bronze Lightsaber, 1 REC/STA-02 Advanced Shocktrooper Armour; Series Two, 1 Dark Khaki Over Cloak, satchel with some food and water.
Hello Darkness
​

Mesh could feel the darkness almost as soon as they broke orbit. As the dropship that carried Strike Team Fel down towards the surface, the force began to create an almost persistent pounding in his skull. The darkness beating against the energy within himself. A Jedi committed to the light. Only the light can drive out the darkness that has infected and infested this planet to its very core. Mesh tilted his head back as he surged power through his body absorbing the dark energy into himself like a conduit. This was a trick he had learned studying Juyo for over a decade. It was powerful if dangerous. Here on Korriban a Jedi could not avoid or even shut out the darkness. They must learn to use it. Learn it to Purge the planet. Korriban will be clean again. Mesh would be the hand of the light side of the force. The hand that struck.

There is no separation between us and the force. The power of the planet surged within them as their dropship neared the surface. He heard only out of his periphery the conversation between the Imperial Master and the Jedi Knight alongside him. He was absorbed in the power of the darkness here. It filled him as he channeled the energy into the task at hand. A grim task. The purging of the Sith Academy. Only the light can drive out the darkness. For a moment rage flashed through Mesh as he lost control of the conduit he held within himself. Anger and bitterness towards the Sith. Slave masters who corrupted their followers and killed worlds. Evil.

Anger is our enemy. Mesh flashed away from the rage forcing control back over the conduit and releasing most of the energy outside himself. The power was dangerous. More than he was used to channeling. Mesh calmed his mind with the force. It was time. The dropship landed on the surface and the hatch opened only for a minute and Strike Force Fel was on the ground in the middle of a sand storm. Mesh pulled his over cloak tight around his face shielding it from the sand. They were not far from the Sith Academy. He could feel the being there now thought they were clouded by the dark side.

He followed now the Imperial Master. The Lord Executor he modeled himself. A powerful force wielder by all accounts. He would lead the Strike Team into the Academy. Mesh watched as he dispatched a picket sentry with great efficiency. Mesh now increased his pace and took up a position just behind Rurik Fel on his right flank. Keeping his over cloak up and covering his face he began once again to form a conduit with the force here on this planet. They were now ascending the steps of the Academy. Whatever was before them. Mesh would be ready.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Equipment​

Armor Taralraiskaz Battle Plate Helm of Malignant Anima Fist of Moridin the Great Weapons Derriphan the Devourer Other Empyrean Gland

Carnifex felt the faintest glimmer of amusement at Other Space Kaiden ' protestations, as it was a good omen that the Great Khaan had lost none of his fiery potency in the long years that he had been deceased. Despite the unveiled threats levied at the once-Emperor, he paid them little heed other than the briefest moment of mirth, as he had more important distractions to attend to.​

​

They had breached the temple gates, it wouldn't be long now.​

​

Wordlessly he turned his back to the Great Khaan, taking his place at the head of a circular congregation of Sith sorcerers who had been hand-picked for this moment in time. The sorcerers wore the ancient garb of the Sith priests before them, ceremonial plates of metal inscribed with runes interwoven with robes of sumptuous cloth. Their faces were veiled by metal masks, long pointed hoods pulled firmly over their heads. It would have been an almost comical sight if the scene itself wasn't suffused with enough dark energy to give even the most resolute of Jedi pause.​

​

They spoke in unison, their words the profane incantations of the Sith. Between them was a Jedi, captured during one of the Empire's earlier raids, strapped to a stone altar and stripped down to their waist. Symbols had been drawn on their skin in blood, the scarred wounds from where the Sith had extracted the blood apparent on the Jedi's arms. ​

​

Together, they moved their arms in ritualistic motion, a small ball of insidious light appearing above the Jedi's chest as he writhed in agony. The symbols inscribed upon his body began to move of their own accord, sliding down towards the center of their chest until they coalesced into the shape of a sphere in similar diameter to the one which hovered above him. Then, without warning, a tendril of bright red energy erupted from the Jedi's chest and slammed into the ball of light. The Jedi's body began to rapidly shrivel and dehydrate, the Jedi's vitality drained away within the span of a few scant seconds. All that remained was a desiccated corpse, paper-thin skin pulled tightly over wax bones. ​

​

Reaching out to grab the orb of vitality, the once-Emperor absorbed its contents into himself with a satisfied sigh of greed. ​

​

And it would be at that time that the Jedi reached the sacrificial chamber, and all eyes of the assembled Sith turned to look in their direction.​

​

Carnifex spoke only a single word, though it was plenty enough.​

​

"Welcome."​

​

Coren Starchaser | Ryv ​

 

[Maple Harte]

Wearing: Maple's Armor

Armed with: Short Barrel Shotgun (Both Standard, slug, and Flechette ammo)

Maple's Staff

Ursula's Instincts


Damn! Her padawan had pulled Allyson Locke away!

Maple didn't want to be here. This all felt wrong. She had gone from hunting the beast to working alongside it all so their respective societies would survive the threat of the Bryn'adul.

No matter how bad your feud was in your own little world, it meant nothing to such an all-consuming menace.

It still felt horribly wrong killing a Jedi though. Or trying to, in her case.

She yearned for the death of the monster more than anything, hating it even as part of her still loved it. The Beast was right. Love and Hate were stamped on the same coin. First shots had missed due to Zaavik Perl pulling Allyson anyway. Couldn't make that error again.

Wait, now there were others present. While Vaylin and Gnox the Insatiable had their scripted dialogue sequences Maple was already taking the chance to use the spontaneous cutscene to reload her shotgun before pointing at Zaavik right as he seemed to be ready to chit a brick.

"Six ways? More like 007..." Maple muttered.

(Clip of Bond Theme Plays)

Maple looked above her, her schizophrenia causing her to be aware of and deeply annoyed with her narrator.

"Hey! I didn't say my last name first, then my full name after! You can't play that clip!" Maple complained loudly, not that anyone present would understand her. She wanted a cat. Skip. Her blood was made of the toejam of Darth Carnifex (also known by his immortal sobriquet of Space Daddy Carni Boi). Skip. Back to reality. Back to Allyson and Zaavik.

The previous three seconds rewound themselves in her head, right to the point where the Narrator typed Space Daddy Carni Boi and laughed.

"Okay, I have to admit, that was funny..." she chuckled out loud despite having only spoke in seemingly unconnected sentences."Space Daddy Carni Boi...heh..."

She waited for the other Sith to pull some chit first. Maybe she wouldn't have to get Jedi blood on her hands today...

 

[Kat Decoria]

Location: Korriban - Hangars
Allies: GA - Ripley Kühn | Chaaj Priest | Karn Syndulla
Enemies: TSE - Iasha Rha | Alina Tremiru
Equipment: Saber Pike, Gun, Armour (minus helmet)

Kat adjusted the armour, she decided to wear the ranger armour she had given her soldiers, while it was basic and did not offer protection from Lightsabers. What it did offer was protection from weather and the sandstorm that was afflicting the Sith homeworld. Kat hadn't build her own armour yet and this armour she was wearing was just a reminder that she really needed to get started on it otherwise she would have to settle for armour that was not suited for her needs. She stretched her limbs as she stood in the dropship, waiting for the landing to happen. Entering the atmosphere, it was easy to feel the AA attempting to blast them out of the sky, which only increased the worry in people who feared that they would meet their demise prematurely. Kat slowly breathed out, she didn't feel ready to die since there was so much that she wanted to experience and learn. While her training as a Padawan had finished and her skills as a Force User were strong, it did not mean that her learning and practicing new skills were over.

Holding onto the overhead grip firmly as the dropship rocked, Kat steeled herself, she could not let fear dictate her actions. Breathing out slowly as she felt the landing gear engaged and the craft prepping for a quick landing, it seemed they had made it, her nerves on edge but she felt comfortable once the door dropped down and then saw the onslaught of Sith forces attacking the Jedi. It seemed they had been caught and Kat was surprised that they did not have the element of surprise that the GA had aimed to have. Instead, Kat pulled her saber pike out and deflected fire from the soldiers and attempted to move forward. Fighting to get into cover as quickly as possible as she could. Leaning against the cover, Kat sighed, this fight was going to be messy and the objective she had been set would be a tricky one.

As she blasted the Force in a push to unstable some soldiers, she felt something strange through the Force. Danger from afar, towards the ruins of Sith graves, a pull for her to head in that direction. Ducking out of the way, she braved her way out of the hangars and headed to the direction the Force was guiding her, deeper into the storm as she grumbled that she should have worn her helmet.​

 

[Auteme]

Lucien Dooku Mato Kejak Felix Astermo Lark ​

For a moment she was drowning.

The strike team fell into the storm, slowing their descent with the Force to land on the sands of Korriban. Yet her first steps felt sluggish, as if she were wading through sand that went up to her waist. A new weight had been placed on her shoulders by the deep well of darkness. It intended to crush her, leave her to the wailing sands, trap her soul forever and ever-

A hand on her shoulder. Yet, somehow, the load was lightened. Mato Kejak -- in many ways a man that Auteme should've disliked. A man so rigid and disciplined he was almost closer to an Imperial Knight than a Jedi. Belligerent in his beliefs, a warrior, almost the embodiment of what the ancient Silver Jedi had been. Someone who would do anything to push back the darkness. But she could see his wisdom, his honour, his honesty.

No matter who they were, they were there, on Korriban. Together. However far their beliefs differed it no longer mattered. Today they were Jedi. One, united, pushing together against a place long thought to be too dark for the light to reach. Together they would forge on.

She took his words at their worth and breathed deep, finding that place within herself that never failed to give her strength -- or rather, the place within others. She could feel the struggles of the other Jedi as they fought. But she could feel their resolve and light, too, and she refused to do anything less for them as well. The weight lifted and she moved freely. "Thank you, Mato."

She raised her hand, raising a small barrier around them to protect them from the wind and sand as they traveled to the Tomb of Darth Bane. As they got closer she could feel the others approaching darkness -- for a moment she felt Ryv as he headed towards the Temple of Sacrifice, a place growing ever darker as the Sith began their ritual. They needed to stop it. And every place they brought Light to was a step towards freeing this place.

Standing in their way were two Sith. The one in the gold mask seemed far more imposing, but it was difficult to feel their presences through the smog of darkness that hung over the tomb.

She took another deep breath. She knew her own strength; she knew that of those with her. They'd be alright.

"Give me an opening and I'll get into the tomb and try to cleanse it. For now, I'll support you." This wasn't like Dantooine, there would be no hesitation here.

Deep breath.

The light was smaller today, but she brought it out nonetheless -- a flare in the darkness, warding it from the trio. Every moment of respite was one where it grew brighter.