Rebellion Return to Stygian | GA Rebellion of TSE's Krayiss and Jelucan

[Aaran Tafo]

Laertia Io
​

Screeching and rambling, constant justification. But one thing stood out to him. Apparently during her raving, she had been the one who destroyed the main reactor on Mercy. "Ah." He said, a faint frown crossing his features.

"So, you were the one who caused the station to explode and destroyed Csilla." He pointed out, head tilting to the side. "Possibly because of you, the station exploded and scattered through Hyperspace. Billions, possibly trillions will die because of the hyperspace debris." His hands reached out from behind his back as he began a series of slow, mocking claps. Uncaring as the Black Knight approached him with her saber ready.

"Congratulations. Your body count might rival the Bryn'adûl in a few months. You must be very proud. Laertia Io will be a household name." He continued his claps, the hollow sound of flesh against flesh echoing around the hallway.

"Because ultimately that's what it’s about for you isn’t it? Making sure that everyone listens to you. Because it’s impossible that everyone else in the Galaxy might have a point. Clearly, we're all wrong and you're right. You'll be the one to single handily save us all." He said, brow raising, daring her to refute him. "Because when two nations with massive amounts of resources fight a war on multiple fronts, that's a crime in your eyes." He mocked, his claps finally ceasing.

"But you, with considerably less resources can do it willy nilly and its fine." His smile remined, a slight showing of teeth was visible. The most aggressive action she had seen of him so far.

"And let’s face it. If we are as useless as you say. Why are you here? If we are so weak, the Sith can clearly handle us. We would not be much help against the Bryn. You're far better off doing something more productive." He raised a single hand, gesturing to the woman in front of it.

"So, which is it? Are we a threat? Or are we a joke?" He lowered the hand. "Let’s be honest. You're not here out of some greater good. You're here to try and save face and mend a wounded pride."

"You're not a saviour. You're a narcissist."

"So you can either leave, or try and fail to kill me." His smile grew ever so slightly. "Because if we're no good because we can’t stop the Maw. What good are you if you can’t even beat me?"

 

[Laertia Io]

"That Station had to be destroyed. The Maw could not be allowed to retain it. And I wasn't the one who fething rammed it into the Planet after the fact. What would you have done, Puritan?" Xiphos asked, refusing to grow irritated at his sarcastic clapping, keeping her emotions as level as a frozen lake bed "That thing would have fired and destroyed Csilla anyway. If The Maw had kept it after Csilla, More planets might have been annihilated by it. It had to be destroyed. It had to be. My only regret is not being able to reach it's Path Engines. The Maw chose to double down and do everything in their power to kill the Chiss in a final act of hate filled spite. You will not lay that on me, Jedi. I tried to save Csilla."

Aaran Tafo then tried more clever word play, accusing her of Narcissism.

"Feth. You." She said calmly. "I don't claim to be a saviour. Never did. But as for all of you being wrong? Definitely. I have said that, and will continue to say it: You throw away lives pointlessly. You only united at Csilla because that Station meant all of your asses were on the line. As for being a Threat or a Joke, somehow you idiots manage to be both. You're a Threat, in how your selfish pursuit of The Sith Empire only allows the Bryn'adul to become stronger. You're a Joke, for being conceited enough to think you can do what every Generation before you has not and completely destroy the Sith. I used to kill as many of them as I could. A pointless endeavor. Wasted the best years of my life doing so. And I'm not leaving. The Sword of The Jedi could not defeat me at Dantooine. The Man of Iron fled from me at Serenno. My Anti-Bryn weapons and My Sons helped The Militia murder The Bryn'adul at Sev Tok. I have nothing to fear in you, Blind One."

Keeping her emotions perfectly still, she lunged, a Makashi Sweep going for his wrists, backed by her extreme Strength. It was a probing attack, to test his defences, see what she was dealing with.

"I might not kill you, but perhaps maiming you will serve a potent psychological blow to your friends regardless..."

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Laertia Io

​

"Congratulations. You beat Ryv. He would be the first person to say that he's not the best duellist. Unlike you, his strength lay in being able to convince people to follow him. You on the other hand are surrounded by droids and clones." He gave the slightest shrug. "Cant really say much about the Imp's diet Jedi. Never met Fel. But congrats. Why haven’t you killed Tathra yet then? Seems like it should have been easy for you then." He posited.

In the end, it did not matter how good a warrior you were. It seemed that for all her strength. She still had not actually made any difference. The war continued, and she was considered a raving madwoman by damn near everyone in the galaxy.

"You're also convinced you can stop us from fighting the Sith by trying to kill us. So congratulations. We're both fighting for seemingly pointless causes." He shrugged. "But hey, pattern recognition doesn’t appear to be your strong suit." He giving her a single handed finger blaster gesture. "But don’t worry. You'll be the one. You'll single handidly show us all that you're right. Just kill a few more of us and we'll believe you."

It’s not like it would inspire even more to fight against her or anything. She was attempting a war of attrition against opponents who had far more resources to throw at a problem than she did.

As the Synthbreaker was swung through the air. The Warden of Peace did the unthinkable. His hand was raised in opposition to it. The blade colliding with naked flesh.

And the blade of deadly light was stopped flat by perfected flesh. The protective Talisman of Iron Fists giving his skin properties similar to that of cortosis. Lightsabers, knives, blades. Any threat they held to him was considerably lessened.

"And if you fail completely? If you're the one who runs? What does that mean?" He asked, banking on the momentary confusion of his block. Darting forward, with the saber held outwards and Laertia's midsection exposed, the Warden bolted forward, dipping inside her guard and attempting to ram his elbow into her solar plexus and drive the air from her lungs.

That same Talisman giving his hand to hand blows a deadly penetrating property, more than enough to tear through toughened hide or combat armor. Now intent on tearing the Black Knight down a few pegs.

 

[Captain Raith]

​

// Outer Rim Territories - Stygian Caldera // Esstran Sector - Sith Worlds // Krayiss System //
// Templestone - Interior. //
Allies: The Galactic Alliance.
Enemies: The Sith Empire.
Objective: Guerilla Warfare.
NPC Complement: Various Templestone Citizens.
​

When the time came, Gideon and the ragtag band of Rebels were ready. They knew full well that even the best laid plans never truly survived contact with the enemy. There were always some unknown variables that threw a spanner into the works. Be it the introduction of some unforeseen factor, or someone intimately blessed by fortune’s touch. But, that didn’t mean defeat was inevitable. So long as the participants in the plan were flexible and capable of adapting to the ever-changing landscape of the battlefield - some form of success could be salvaged before the encounter’s end. That was one of the aspects that the ARC Trooper sought to impart during his weeks of preparatory training for this Insurrection. It was also something that the Rebels had taken too almost naturally.

They were the survivors of the Sith Empire’s purge, after all. They bore witness to the callous betrayal of their supposedly benevolent masters, as they carved through the population like avenging angels. Many believed that they had offended their would-be masters in some unknown capacity. That their blessed day of eradication had come. But, the truth was - they were simply unlucky and unwitting victims of the Sith’s capricious whims. It seemed that their Empire elected to send a message to the rest of their crumbling domain - that treachery against their rule wouldn’t be tolerated. However, the people of Krayiss II were supposedly loyal to the Throne of Dromund Kaas.

Had the Sith made a mistake in meeting out their justice, or did they no longer care if their realm prospered?

Sadly, that was a speculative question that none - even the Sith - could answer truthfully. Thus, with such notions fading from his mind, Gideon’s fingers tightened around the grips of his twinned pistols. With his thoughts refocused, the ARC Trooper readied himself for the encounter to come. There was no room for distractions, especially with something this monumental hanging in the balance. This was where the Alliance rebounded from the failures of the Stygian Campaign. This was where their collective voice of defiance would cry out for justice for the fallen. There would be no backward step from here on in.
​

The time was now.​

With the signal given, the Rebels and the ARC Trooper thereafter, threw themselves into the fight. As they had seen, the Battle Droids had passed through the sector - sweeping their surroundings in a rotating quadrant scan. Thus, with their numbers diminished, the Sith troopers were taken by surprise and were eventually overwhelmed. Their reaction times were components, as one would expect of professional soldiers. However, with their Officers and Comms Technicians being taken out by calculated Sniper-fire, their sudden demise threw the collection of Sith troopers into disarray.

That Chaos allowed the Rebels to take advantage of the situation with minimal casualties. The Sith troopers were firing blindly, as they were engaged from multiple vectors. Some of the Rebels were caught in the open as they sought to reposition themselves from one piece of cover to the next. T’was an unfortunate fate, and would likely be painted as well-deserved justice in the eyes of the Sith, but there was nothing that could be done to save them. Should the mission succeed, however, they would be painted as heroes in the eyes of those who survived. Their deaths, and the deaths of their butchered loved one’s would be avenged.

Everything was coming together too perfectly, Gideon thought as he watched Jorran put a round through the last Sith trooper’s visor. That was a bad omen, he mused. Nothing should ever go according to plan, as that meant something-

Before the ARC Trooper had a chance to finish his train of thought, a shell struck the duracrete pavement nearby, throwing the man from his feet. For a second, Gideon thought he was dead. That the shell’s payload ended his life, and that the pain he felt from the impact was his soul leaving the body behind. Instead, his ears filled with countless, blaring alarms that sought to warn Gideon of what was happening all around him. The shell wasn’t explosive, but carried something that was just as deadly. Dioxis gas. The Rebels that sought to divine the reasoning behind their survival - ended up clutching their throats and suffocating to death, as their lungs were torn apart from the inside out.

“Gas!” One of the Rebels screamed, as they pulled a nearby friend away from the ever-expanding cloud of viridian-hued death. The survivors of the Strike Team began to scatter in an attempt to escape the terrible fate that befell their comrades - only to run straight into the tightening noose of the returning Battle Droids. They were drawn back to the generator during the ensuing firefight and saw the damage that the Rebels were inflicting. With the lack of a Comms Officer, and any viable Command Structure, the Droids called in the disturbance to their Command Functionaries requesting fire support. That was where the chemical weapons factored in.

What made matters worse, was that the Battle Droids weren’t as disorganized as their organic counterparts. They were ruthless and regimented in their approach, turning from one target to the next as they were gunned down without hesitation. It was turning into a disaster. Gideon knew he had to act quickly if they were to accomplish their task. With a grunt of effort, the ARC Trooper snapped up to his feet and began shooting. Both of the pistols within his grasp began barking with a plasmatic staccato. Every bolt struck true, or near-enough that it didn’t really matter. The Battle Droids were bathed in the seemingly endless stream of super-heated and explosive lethality, enough to cripple their movements.

That was when Jorran threw one of his thermal detonators. The spherical device chirped fervently as it bounced across the duracrete and rolled between the regimented ranks of the Sith Wardroids. Gideon threw himself behind cover, seconds before the grenade detonated - atomizing the collection of droids endangering the mission. There were some that were saved from the contained explosion, but their lives were measured in seconds. The thunderous pulse of activation bathed their surroundings, as the commandeered Speeders roared to life. Their cannons barked - leaving nothing but blackened, shadowy stains where the surviving droid’s once stood.

The Rebels had done it. They had bought themselves a chance at victory, and Gideon couldn’t help feeling a blessed mixture of relief and pride.

“Good work,” the ARC Trooper siad, rousing himself from cover and tapping the barrel of his pistol against Jarron’s shoulder. “We don’t have a lot of time, and the Sith are likely to send reinforcements after their Droid’s don’t report in. Let's get started!”

It wasn’t long after such words were spoken that the Strike Team began setting up their charges all across the generator. The displacement pattern would be enough to engulf the entire structure in enough caustic hellfire to atomize their surroundings. When the deed was done some moments later, Gideon ordered the remnants of his Strike Team to disperse and get out of the blast zone. Grabbing the remote detonator from one of the passing Rebels, the ARC Trooper followed in their wake. While his armour was advanced and durable beyond compare, it still wasn’t enough to safeguard him from what was to come.
​

-00:07:30​

As the first explosions began rippling across the city, the ARC Trooper known as Damocles, depressed the trigger and brought down the generator with a serpentine smile peeling across his face. The structure supplied power to countless buildings around the City, including several defensive measures - ranging from the mag-locked gates, which now creaked open - and the newly installed shield generator.
​

With several, decisive blows - everything was coming to a head. All that remained now? Was to finish what others had started.

~-~*~-~

Relevancy Taglist:
| Suri Vullen | Zark San Tekka | Mara Harik | Sion Dallo | Teica Giraan |
| Valen Arenais | DarrVack | Mazrim Caide/Taim | & Others.​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Allies: N/A
Enemies: TSE | GA | Yula Perl | Dagon Kaze
Why won't you let me in?

---

---

​

“Zaav, I—c’mon. It’s Yula, you remember, right? Your cousin.”

Zaavik snarled. "I'm not a fething amnesiac!" he rebuked. There was a look in his eyes that was recognizable as one he often got when feeling determined. This time it possessed a sinister glint which was alien to the usual. He was entirely aware of what he was doing and who he was pointing a weapon at. There was no doubting his actions as being of anything less than his own sound volition.

“You…you okay, man? Put the saber away and let’s talk. You could use a shave, aha.”

"Don't." he snapped through clenched teeth, firm refusal contesting her attempt at empathy. "Let's cut the chit, Yula, okay?" How one phrase could make his voice sound so unfamiliar wasn't a phenomenon anyone had time to consider. Words were clearly being forged from a different place than usual. "I'm not going back, and none of you can make me. I don't care who you brought with you. I'm getting past this obelisk, you can't stop me."

To the point as ever; at least that much remained the same.

Vjun chewed him up, left him with a missing piece and an inauspicious hunger. Power lay beyond that black monolith. That foul library held knowledge that was the key to the barricade before his pursuit. Dark whispers, a life debt, and a promise all dictated that he must find the way in. Even sleep bent the knee to that mental legislation. Now free from the rhetoric of restraint, Zaavik wanted, needed more.

"So stay the hell out of my way."

 

[Faith Organa]

Dalton Crowder | Maestus​

Moments that were mere seconds were paused when a very striking Twi'lek came into the room. Faith found herself staring as the young woman strode in almost taking possession of the room. "Greeting Via K'mai, representative from Epoch. Yes we were just starting." Faith continued to smile as she sat down.

She folded her hands neatly upon the table and now they would begin. A strong voice required a strong response, "I must agree with Senator Crowder I'm not sure that the Brotherhood by itself is the greatest threat to peace. But curious what do you see as their strengths that would make them so formidable?"

It would appear to be a naive question for surely as members of this committee they would already knew that strengths and weaknesses of their enemies. What Faith did not now were the thoughts and perceptions of others. Perhaps she would see something as harmless where another would see it as deadly. And since this was a discussion it was good to know what everyone thought.

A deep breath with a slow release as she kept her balance. She had to consider the people of the Alliance not the ones that sat in session every day, but the ones that counted on them to make decisions that protected them, that provided avenues for options.

 

[Yula Perl]

Allies | [GA] Dagon Kaze - Bernard - Viers Connory

Enemies | [TSE] Zaavik Perl

​

This was Zaavik, but it wasn’t. Same sharp tongue, same steel drive, but something was off-kilter. Dagon’s warning drifted to her in the Force as Zaavik balked at her.

"Let's cut the chit, Yula, okay?"
"I'm not going back, and none of you can make me. I don't care who you brought with you. I'm getting past this obelisk, you can't stop me."

As it turned out, words could hurt you. Yula bristled while readjusting her slickening grip on the saber hilt. It was not so much the content of his speech as it was the fire, the absolute ire that he spoke with. Zaavik’s voice sizzled like acid against her skin, the burn of his words sinking down into the marrow of her bone. “What the hell is so special about that fething library to you?” She seethed, temper flaring out of distress.

She didn’t want the answer to that.

"So stay the hell out of my way."

“Listen, Zaav, I thought you were dead. I don’t know what’s happened to you since Denon, and I don’t know what kind of chit you’ve been through over the past few months. But-” She stopped herself at the beginning of an inhale, eyes crinkling in hard earnest. And that was on her, for not checking in. Backing down, letting Zaavik slip further into whatever it was he had become, was not an option. Her stance widened, a rare current of determination rippling through her, tingling along her spine and tightening her nerves. Perhaps it had something to do with Dagon’s reliable presence beside her.

“We’re family, and as much as you might hate that right now, I’m not gonna step aside and let you kill yourself!”

A spark of déjà vu flickered through her mind.

“I’m making it my damn business. I’m done letting you kill yourself.”

It dawned on her that she was feeling some semblance of what Dagon felt during the night he had wrestled a needle from her grasp. Sure, their relationship was different—a magnetic attraction versus familial love—but a cornerstone of both relationships happened to be enthusiastically caring for the other person.

To Yula, love meant grappling a spice-loaded needle from someone about to shoot up, or standing in the way of your manic, disheveled cousin and the allure of whatever those dark-sided spirits had to offer.

Her face steeled as she positioned herself directly between Zaavik and the Obelisk. Yula's wrist curved upward, bringing the sunset orange blade up in a smooth arc to point directly at her cousin. Her gesture was not meant to challenge, but it was loaded. Sure, she was rusty—but Yula hadn’t let bigger problems stop her before.

“Let’s cut the chit, Zaavik. I’m not getting out of your way.”

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Defend the Krayiss Temple Library
Location: Rushing to the breach
Equipment: Lightsaber
Allies: TSE
Enemies: GA / NIO
Tags: Eva Betrik / Cameron Crownwraithe / Viers Connory
------------------------------------

It seemed so long ago now that he had walked these very halls, eager to learn all that he could to start his journey on becoming Sith. Now, as he ran through them, they seemed far more sinister. That seemed to be a bit of a theme for Sith places. The Dark Side almost seemed to grow more active when blood would soon be spilled.

The Dark Side hungered for battle, as always.

How...inconvenient that a sacred place such as this desires blood, even if it must be desecrated to have it.

Regardless, no amount of philosophizing would change the fact that it was under attack. He could lament the library being assaulted another time, after said assault was done.

Even amidst the chaos of rushing to battle, Alisteri could feel something wrong in the back of his mind. The Force felt off, disturbed almost. It was almost never steady in battles such as this, with Sith and Jedi of varying levels of power and skill being involved, but it felt especially strange this day. Between the library's court, the Sith and Jedi, and whatever else was going on, the Acolyte had to take a moment to pause and quiet his listening in to the Force. so that he wouldn't be overwhelmed by it all. It would leave him a bit blind for finding Jedi, but thankfully there were only so many ways to enter the temple.

And, only so many ways to find a way out.

By now he had fallen far behind the initial rush to the front, still trying to shake off the affects of him dipping into the Force too much in this environment. He had no idea where the Legionnaires that he had been with had gone, but it was of no issue. One way or another, he would find his place to assist in the defense.

Probably after his head stopped aching, and the shadows stopped moving.

 

[Darth Ahriman]

​

Location: Krayiss
Objective: Divide & Conquer
Allies: DarrVack | Mazrim Caide/Taim | Felix Aquila | Quinn Varanin
Enemy: Captain Raith | Zark San Tekka | Suri Vullen | Skye Pearce
Strike Team: Sigma-Five-Delta

​

The situation across the city-scape was quickly deteriorating as both sides waged an all-out war against one another with civilians being drawn into the battle by the Alliance, once good and dutiful citizens of the Empire turned terrorist by the self-righteous invaders seeking to undermine the Empire once again within its own territory, upon its own worlds where the Sith-Imperial leadership had kept order and security to so many millions of lives until the New Imperial traitors and their Alliance followers had refused to cease these ruthless attacks. Attacks that, as a language, the Sith Empire knew how to speak fluently. One day the Alliance's end would come, yet the battle today would not see such glorious rewards to those risking their lives in loyalty to the Emperor.

Valen moved through the shadows of the darkened alley as Teams Alto and Beta split up, dividing into their assigned roles and the Acolyte remaining with the second team in their overwatch of the special forces takedown of a nearby patrol. This was a comm's-silent venture, no word spoken between either team as Alto moved in quickly and quietly towards the Alliance patrol. Regulars, nothing fancy in the way of Alliance technology or gear but enough to get their job done. With their blaster rifles slung over their backs, vibro-knives in hand, they pursued the patrol as it continued to walk down the street seeking out Sith-Imperial troops. The pursuit was painstakingly slow but just shy of the next junction, their opportunity presented itself.

Flanked by maintenance corridors, Team Alto moved in for the kill. Now at a distance where the enemy would be too late to radio back for assistance, they lurched forward from their positions, attacking at the rear and aiming for vital areas and weak points in the Alliance Regulars armour. The soldiers' faces were exposed, their throats largely open to attack just the same as behind the knees, the joints in the arms where the armour was thinnest. The sounds of muffled screams and the impact of their weapons quiet. Not completely, but enough for Valen to feel comfortable where he stood upon Team Beta's rooftop vantage point.

"Report?" Valen spoke out to the nearby sniper-spotter team, a pair within team Beta, Zachiel and Avison. Privates, first-class and skilled marksman both. "No sign of compromise, Sir" Zachiel responded after his spotters second-check; "Clear to proceed".

The Acolyte nodded, a slight curl to the corner of his lips as he continued to watch the streets below. Team Alto would already be underway, changing into the new uniforms and doing their utmost to conceal their own gear for a scout from Team Beta to collect and return to their position. "Signal Alto to draw out an attack. Prioritize civilian targets" Valen instructed before turning his gaze upon corporeal Thalia Carthen; "Ensure the engagement is recorded. As soon as our boys put down these civilian traitors, I want that data sent back to command asap".

 

[The Amalgam]

Fast little bastard, The Amalgam thought privately as Starlin Rand evaded her initial strikes, then followed up with two power blows that she deflected with casual spins of The Staff.

The kick however, sent her backward.

Nearly knocked the wind out of her too.

This amused her however, as she stood up.

"Someone's been Level Grinding!" She joked. "And why wait to reach a bridge? I wanna know...are you willing to destroy Syd at the same time as Laertia. You know they'll both be emotionally destroyed. Can you live with what it will do to Syd? To feel her mind snap as all her past sins come crashing down on her at once? Starling Rand: Such a Jedi Patriot he sacrificed his own beloved Master's sanity in the name of Ashla! Cedric Grayson will have taught you very well! Just ignore the Personal Cost to others! We have to bring about Heaven across The Whole Universe! Are you actually buying that nonsense, or is he more an ally of convenience since Syd is too afraid to face what she is, what she's done.

She sprang forward, getting into a blade lock with him with unexpected, ruthless strength, her dark rotting aura Leaping out, corruption seething invisibly through the air, trying to drown every attempt to access the Light, and given that Starlin was not yet a Knight, and The Amalgam was a full on Dark Master, it had a very good chance of success.

"You think she'll kill herself when she learns the truth? Chances are high. I wouldn't put it past that coward." She sneered, trying to press his own blade closer to his face in their blade lock.

"But they'll have you to thank for stopping Laertia! And all it cost was sacrificing one fallen heretic who won't mean anything to anyone but yourself. You think they'll mourn her after you destroy her. Cedric will sneer at her death, say she deserved it, and if you want to stay in his good graces, you'll have no choice but to agree. Like a good little Ashlan Crusader he is surely trying to turn you into. Go, on, tell them! Tell everybody! Say it with me: Syd Celsius was a traitor and coward who deserves death and madness for picking Laertia over the Ashla.

To assault his mind, she summoned a dark truth in the Force to try and unsettle his mood...and she had the perfect weapon.

"Here." She sneered, trying to dive into his mind with that truth. "See what your beloved Master was really like..."


One year before Darth Phyre's execution...



Phyre clipped to her belt a purple curved hilt lightsaber, clad in her white suit.

It was one of many a time she had met the Jedi in battle, real battle. Not one or two, but multiple.

It was her glory days, the plague winding down but not over, the suffering, the death, the cruelty on each affected planet an endless source of nourishment and pleasure for the Sithspawn Witch, still thirsting ever for more to turn, more to corrupt or butcher or both, and not necessarily in that order. She had arrived on Dantooine, pursuing a pair of Jedi on the run after producing a child strong in the Force. Ordinarily Phyre did not take children for training, preferring those who were old enough to decide for themselves what they wanted, but The Brain Demon had insisted. This one was too powerful to ignore.

Her starship, a modified Star Courier with all white armor, settled down on the grassy plains of Dantooine in the early dawn, close to what would eventually become Loste Citadel. They had fled here, to this ancient refuge if The Jedi, seeking a place to hide. But there was nowhere they could go that Darth Phyre could not or would not follow. She would sacrifice their blood, feed and annoint the child with the blood of their family. A supreme blessing. She was a regular evangelist.


She left her sanctum, calling the power of hate to infuse a corrupt, seething flesh underneath a curvy, athletic exterior, the power of the flame, with her since her awakening in The Darkness, danced in a rotting mind as she floated above the grass in her white and gold chrome outfit. She could almost smell them in the Force. Their desperation. Their fear of her. She had done things that would make prisoners on death row recoil. She found it addictive, as always.

She lived the Bogan. Breathed it. She would make them suffer slowly for making her chase them. The Jedi were powerful, true, and Phyre had honestly considered corrupting them also. But they were too much slaves to the light. It would be more trouble than it was worth, and Phyre was in the mood for slaughter.

Moldy yellow orbs peered out of an exotic face as she scanned the landscape. All the animals had fled on instinct at her approach, including the insects. If the bacteria could have fled, it probably would have as well. The clouds were a dark blue and the Sithspawn sneered at the feeling of the light within this place. Draining the life from the grass she stepped on out of spite as she approached an old but large circular gathering of stones with murals of ancient Jedi carved into the stone surfaces. The wind blew as coldly as Phyre's heart was small. She tasted death, breathed it in. Death all around. But not for her. 'Never' for her.

They waited next to a bright brown and white Dynamic Class Frieghter. This caused the Sith Lady to raise an eyebrow at the idea someone was flying a frieghter from such an ancient era. She could understand a yacht from that Era...she owned an X-70B Phantom Class Yacht called The Corrupted Flesh in addition to the Star Courier. But a frieghter. Times must have fallen hard on them. Phyre was amused by their poverty, for it only demonstrated her superiority.

They waited atop its hull, clad in black slacks and boots, with black, spiky jackets, wearing black masks which obscured their features and small, stylized black wings on the sides, at the temples. Both gripped black hilted lightsabers with emitter shields on one side. What little Phyre could make of their skin revealed that while the man was with a leathery tan, the woman had skin white as paper. They had fled this creature, and her servants, for months now. But they had recently acquired some help. An edge. A last ditch effort to keep their baby out of Phyre's hands.

As Phyre came closer, she hissed a little under her breath as she saw the symbol of the Jedi Order in white emblazoned on their chest.

"So these are the infamous Crownwraithes..." Phyre said as she got closer, calling her lightsaber to her hand, its purple blade hissing to life. A hideous life.

"Why do you reject the honor that I bring? The scion of The Brain Demon 'herself' would bless your child, induct her into the many treasures of the dark. Perhaps even you could find meaning in the Bogan's embrace."

"Oh, this is rich, my love, the creature thats beyond saving thinks to preach to us." Morris Crownwraithe rumbled in a deep voice from atop the ship, blue lightsaber activating.

"A beast such as you has no grounds to talk about saving 'anything'. You will not have our daughter, Witch." The woman, Lysandra Crownwraithe spoke.

"So its a girl..." Phyre smiled. "I can sense her, even now. She will make a powerful champion of The Brain Demon. Give her to me, and 'maybe' I'll give you a quick death."

Lysandra force jumped from the top of the ship with her husband. They could feel the seething corruption that animated her body like a snake in their mind. Morris took a Shien Stance, Lysandra a Makashi open. Phyre snarled and her flesh wiggled on her bones like rats were moving underneath as she tried to simply ignite both their bodies through will alone. But the Ashla was strong in them, and held back her dark will.

Phyre's flesh stopped wriggling and she hissed at them, the next attempt at death-by-fire coming from it pouring from her mouth onto both of them. She snarled when she realized they were wearing thermal capacitance belts. High quality ones at that. The pair finally stucks, both at once, and Phyre retreated from and overhead swipe from Morris, just barely in time to parry Lysandra's stab. The pair were skilled in attacking together, both flanking from her sides and swiping at her limbs. The Sithspawn's purple blade intercepted the two spiky jacketed warriors attacks, deftly driving them to the side or to each others blades, but the Crownwraithes were fast wiley, and, most importantly, genuinely talented. Phyre actually had to think out her defense, trying to counter Morris's heavy but focused attacks that left no room for mistakes and Lysandra's ghostly speed and cunning at the same time. Her purple blade whipped and twisted this way and that to fend off their strikes, Phyre never staying still too long for them to corner her. The wind blew the grass around them harder as a storm begin to roll in.

"Your skill is impressive the both of you. But your power will ultimately break before mine."

"Your are a disease in an era already filled with it. We will die before we let you infect our child."

"My thoughts exactly." Phyre sneered, muscles and veins bulging as she slipped into a Force Rage, her purple blade slashing for their heads, bashing against their weapons. The Crownwraithes faded out of her strikes, their blades glancing off her armor. Morris got into a bladelock with her, and Lysandra pulled out a strange black medallion with a black and green jewel at the center, and focused the light within herself.

The crystal glowed with a pink light. Phyre snarled as her flesh tugged away from her skeleton desperately trying to escape the range of the glowing light, pulling against her skeleton. The Sithspawn thrashed as Morris's lightsaber went into her chest, spilling yellowed, putrid smelling muscle and intestine that burned in purple flame as it made contact with the air. The damage grew worse, a fissure cracking open the suit and Phyre's skin underneath, spilling now black blood that caught fire and burnt the grass. Phyre force-pushed Morris away, causing him to slam into the hull of the frieghter, removing his lightsaber even as muscles and skin began tearing away from the skull, which was exposed, a slick, geaming white in the morning air and opened its jawbone, corrupted musculature still trying to latch back onto it, even as it shuddered in the light of the crystal Lysandra exposed her to.

Red Force Lightning erupted from behind the jaw, smacking into the crystal and destroying it, flinging Lysandra backward, and electrocuting her also.

The ripped open creature staggered to Lysandra, cackling psychotically as it fell on her. Lysandra screamed as Phyre began to tear the life force out of her through touch alone. Lysandra was too injured from the powerful red lightning to properly resist, and ended up rotting in seconds, Phyre's body and army stitching back together as she rose to face Morris.

"Your wife was barely a snack..." Phyre taunted, telekinetically raising Lysandra's lightsaber and crushing it, throwing the parts at Morris.

Morris suppressed his anguish at his wife's fate. They were buying time. It had all been to buy time. Both Morris and Lysandra knew they were not leaving Dantooine alive. He said nothing to her.

"Your wife is dead. Your child is mine. Why continue?"

"Because our child isn't yours." Morris answered. "And she never will be."

Phyre snarled and flew towards him with the Force, Morris fought against her and attacked from all angles, the pair locked in a brutal contest, Phyre feeding off the fury and chaos of the moment to strengthen her. Morris focused only on staying alive long enough to delay her, avoiding several openings when he could have attacked solely because he could have been killed that much sooner. But eventually he got tired, wasn't fast enough to dodge the lightning from Phyre's throat. He was killed instantly as it struck him in the chest.

Phyre frowned. Already the day had not started right. She had meant to make their deaths protracted but the talisman they had used had thrown her for a loop. Oh well. The baby could be annointed in ash as much as blood she supposed...she might even use her own...

Phyre took Morris's lightsaber, using it to disfigure his face and mask before dismembering it along with the rotted, lifeless body of his wife, scattering the parts to the wind and heading up the ramp of the ship--

The Amalgam ended the vision, wondering if it had done any damage. He was strong, and he loved Syd, this much was certain. That's why it would hopefully be as painful as possible to watch her at her very worst.

Meanwhile...


The Model 2's were waging heavy combat now, gunning down Rebels left and right in the city, ruthlessly slaughtering them while delivering, cruel, out if place one-liners.

The Droids marched in fifty Strong Columns, The Front rows firing their suppressive Laser Fire, the Rest using their onboard weapons Systems. Model 1 Scout teams flooded streets with bio assault gas from their chest, causing horrific deaths and agony to rebels, sniping them from towers.

The Model 2's as usual, served as spearhead attacks for defending units to advance behind, their bulkier, larger frames providing a larger target, but heavily armored. They immediately sent large teams to the areas compromised by Captain Raith , to offset the flood of rebels, ruthlessly firing their arm mounted cryo chainguns, to shred into attacking rebels...

Mortars begin to rain on Rebel units trying to pierce the city center...

DarrVack , Mazrim Caide/Taim , Valen Arenais , feel free to get Nuetralizer reinforcements into your posts.

 

[Teica Giraan]

[Location: Krayiss II's Orbit - Iblis-class Missile Frigate Epilogue - Internalized C.I.C]
[Engaging: ]​

Refuse, and you will doom each and every life on this ship, and I will still find a way to get what I want here. Do not make the mistake of assuming this is a conversation. It isn't. You have no other options.

She was left in silence. Teica's mouth opened, though failed to allow even a whisper to escape. Her eyes flickered, opening and closing in hesitation, without rhyme, without rhythm. She was trapped, held paralyzed in a metaphysical corner and presented for all the crew to see.

Seven Minutes. Twenty Seconds.

Seven minutes till the Alliance turbolaser salvos would cut through the Krayissian atmosphere, seven minutes till strategic targets all around the surface would be reduced to ruin. Even if she didn't give the order, main engineering would carry out the predesignated commands. If she called it off for the Epilogue, the rest of the fleet would still carry out the carefully planned attack strategy.

"Ma'am, the meditation sphere has ceased its attack." The comms officer spoke up to confirm, albeit hesitantly amidst the presence of the sith.

Teica kept her eyes locked on their intruder's own, even while she addressed the bridge crew, "Order our interceptors to stand down. Cancel evacuation operations aswell."

And as much as it pained her to say it..

"You have my cooperation."

What she didn't make clear, was to restore shipboard control to the bridge or not. And with that omission of orders, any weapon or helm procedure run in C.I.C would be all but useless. The situation warped with that sliver of uncertainty, became a game of stalling rather than a hopeless struggle. But, Teica quickly wiped the thoughts from her mind, though couldn't be sure whether the sith had sensed it or not.

As she scanned over the arrays of consoles, and over the clusters of bridge officers manning them, Teica began to sink into the same sea of hesitation and worry for the future that they all did. Seconds away from drowning, however, the commander quieted her world, her perception, everything, with only the anchor of clenched fists to support her.

Five minutes. Twelve seconds.

Her mind restored the contours around her, the blinking arrays of buttons, the columns of dials, the gentle shivering of the bridge's Alliance inhabitants, and finally brought Nyxeris once again into view.

A round of missiles, torpedoes, and turbolaser slugs slammed into the bow of a far-off Sith cruiser, the assorted Alliance front lines closing in alongside. A hole began to emerge in the enemy formation, a view into the surface below, and eventually an opportunity for an orbital strike. But the Epilogue, a missile cruiser placed behind the rest, had been chosen as the vessel to be hijacked.

Something was wrong.

 

[Starlin Rand]

​

Objective I: Those Worthy
Gear: Armor | Double-bladed lightsaber | Tal’Kar Bracelet
Tags: The Amalgam

In response to the Amalgam’s lengthy monologue, Starlin snorted. “Not very subtle, are you?”

As she invaded his mind—or tried to—he grinned, raising his wrist. He wore a chain bracelet made out of Tal’Kar, a rare metal alloy that granted a profound magical resistance to telepathy. Despite that, some images from the vision she inflicted upon him slipped through. Flashes of a brutal massacre, the faces of two dead people who each looked a little bit like Laertia Io. Was she showing him the murder of her parents? He kept in control of himself, fully aware of his surroundings, determined not to fall prey to the Amalgam’s tricks. If she was trying to distract him so she could land a crippling blow, she wouldn’t get the chance.

Her attempt at cutting him off from the Light caused him noticeable strain, but he fought it, laughing at her through the pain. “Not subtle at all! But you’re forgetting something—”

He broke off, resuming the duel with a strong opening strike at her neck.

“—something that so many Sith seem to forget about these days—”

Already his blade was moving, feinting a blow aimed at her chest in order to disguise a sweep of her legs, trying to knock her completely off her feet.

“—something that made me want to be a Jedi in the first place, just so that I might see it someday with my own eyes. A little something called redemption.”

He activated the second blade of his saber, but didn’t strike. It was another trick. Instead, green lightning erupted from his hands, blasting her with Electric Judgement.

“Syd said she was forced to the Light. Now’s her chance to come to it of her own free will. Maybe she’ll die—Vader did when he was redeemed. Or maybe she’ll be changed into something else entirely. But unlike you and your motley crew of control freaks in orbit around Laertia, I’m not going to deprive her of choice. Her destiny will be her own. And as for whether or not I’ll tell her what you told me...

“The truth hurts. Invest in ibuprofen, witch.”

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Senator Fasoyor remained silent, allowing others to speak in turn and letting their ideas be put forth. It was a courteous tradition upheld by the wiser politicians that still remained, and though his blood often burned hot during meetings he had always reigned in his temper to allow others the opportunity to make their words known. The conversation had shifted from talk of a superweapon to the creation of a superweapon-killer, a shift in intent but with the same ultimate objective.​

​

Then, when he found the opportunity to speak again, he arose; "Honorable Senators, Vice-Chancellor, the back and forth of whether or not the Sith are capable of building such a weapon is irrelevant. It is abundantly clear that they possess the means, which has escaped the notice of the wider galaxy, to build weapons capable of wiping entire worlds off the face of the galaxy. They are capable of building superweapons, Vice-Chancellor, and they will build more. That much is a guarantee."​

​

He adjusted his collar, "And as for the possibility of the Trade Federation to bankroll the creation of our own countermeasure, to that, I must vehemently protest. I do not trust these corporations to work in our best interest, it is a well-documented fact that the Sith have used corporations to further their agendas time and time again. During the One Sith occupation, many magnates and CEOs sided with the Sith to further their own profits at the expense of the people of the Core. Even today, many of those same businessmen now accept the Alliance's credits. Should we venture to continue down this path to building a countermeasure against the Sith's genocidal machines, then we should do so without the interference of dubious corporations."​

​

Sitting back down, Fasoyor watched silently for the reactions of the other Senators. All the while his page stood silently behind him, face expressionless but eyes sharp. He too was watching the other Senators, their attentions turned from him and onto the Senator he purportedly worked for.​

​

Aerarii Tithe | DARKCOM | Seto du Couteau | Jak Ross
Julius Haskler | Pom Stych Tivé | Taeli Raaf | Otto Shule ​

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Senate Committee Room

DARKCOM Aerarii Tithe Pom Stych Tivé Darth Carnifex Otto Shule Seto du Couteau Jak Ross
​

Well, she thought as the Senator from Metellos made an impassioned declaration about why the need for a superweapon for the Alliance was needed, he dances prettily enough. He hid his strings well, cloaking them in the abuses of what Kaine had unleashed on his family, but he was glossing over a few details if she recalled correctly. Her eyes slowly moved to the page standing silently at the Senator's call, wondering what his purpose was.

The young Senator from Empress Teta spoke up, offering his viewpoint that the Alliance should invest in a superweapon-killer instead of an actual superweapon, that the morality of the situation needed to be maintained so the Alliance could keep claiming the high road in the ongoing conflicts. He did raise a point she agreed with though; the building and use of such large and costly weapons inevitably came back to bite the state that developed them. The history of the galaxy was littered with rumors and tales of old weapons that had brought fear to the hearts of many... until such a time they were destroyed, resulting in the lost of significant manpower, wasted building materials, and a potent symbol that now was a rallying cry for the galaxy's denizens to rise up and fight.

Otto Shule came to the support of Senator Du Couteau's stance, she nodded at his glance and mention that the Alliance shouldn't develop biological weapons either and supported development of a superweapon-killer, with the backing of Republic Engineering and the Trade Federation of course. He also expounded on the point that the citizens of the Alliance were clamoring for continued action against the Alliance's enemies, that shipwrights and volunteer centers were reaching high capacities, and it was the duty of their elected representatives to shepherd such arduous passion along the proper path instead of fighting fire with fire.

The Senator of Had Abbadon also spoke up in support of superweapon-killer, insisting that many worlds under the Sith umbrella were chafing at their overlords and that innocent civilians needed to be taken into account by the Alliance and their allies with any talk of a superweapon.

Her gray eyes moved to look at the Vice-Chancellor spoke, and it was true. The Sith Empire was not currently, to her knowledge, developing a superweapon for use in their ongoing conflict with the New Imperial Order or the Alliance. As of present, it wasn't cost effective for the Sith Empire and their attention was focused on more conventional means. Once more, her eyes slid over to the Senator of Metellos and thoughts of his master. No, the Sith Empire wasn't investing resources in a wasteful endeavor of developing a weapon, but they weren't the only Sith in the galaxy. The Maw would be building a new device, of that she was sure.

She was about to speak when the Senator from Azbrian made her thoughts known, causing a slight frown to appear on her face. The woman's reaction wasn't entirely rational, she also seemed... defensive, advocating for the Alliance to just stay in their space and do nothing. It seemed such a reversal from her earlier commitment to providing resources and food supplies.

Senator Fossk chimed in with a very good point. The Brotherhood of the Maw didn't exactly subscribe to galactic economics like every other nation in the galaxy. They didn't care about credits or economic movement of materials, and their Mercy weapon had seemingly materialized out of nowhere. Only two regions in the galaxy offered enough privacy to development something like that in secret; the Unknown Regions and the Deep Core. She tilted her head in thought, scrolling back through her datapad to the proposal from Fossk earlier from Epoch. There was a familiarity in the schematics, almost like the engineers had done this before. Her gaze shifted to the Senator again in thought, nails tapping lightly on the desk in front of her. Had he... perhaps?

"I don't see the merits in developing a superweapon-killer device, but for different reasons than the Senator from Azbrian," she said finally, leaning into her microphone again. "A proton torpedo in the right location is a superweapon-killer. A trained team of Jedi and commandos is a superweapon-killer. Crashing a Star Destroyer scale ship into the proper spot is a superweapon-killer. Creating a dedicated device with the power to match a superweapon would in of itself be another device that could easily be turned into a superweapon. While I am sure Republic Engineering and the Trade Federation could fund and build such a device, I feel it would take away credits, manpower, and resources better spent in improving our more conventional forces."

She took a sip of her own water glass.

"You did raise an excellent point though, Senator Shule, that a bioweapon would be incredibly tricky to target a specific group, not on top of the Sith's use of their alchemy and powers to alter matter. But a biological agent that could theoretically, create an induced pacifist or compliant state would work better perhaps? You might not be able to directly effect stronger Sith, but their citizens and soldiers could be. If they were deprived of their armies and fleets, if they refused to go to war no matter what threats or incentives the Sith used, if they surrendered without a fight and simply went about their lives in peace... well then the Alliance and the New Imperial Order would only have a few thousand Force users to round up and either imprison or execute."

 

[Bernard]

And into my bewildered eyes he throws
Visions of festering wounds and filthy clothes,
And all Destruction's bloody retinue.
----
Short Change Hero​

BLUFOR: Dagon Kaze Yula Perl Viers Connory
OPFOR: TSE, Closed​

Strike Team Tano

> Krayiss Two​

> Library​

"They're rushing to reinforce!" he called out to Bernard, jerking his head at the supplement of Sith forces converging towards the entry. "We need to keep--"

An ear-piercing bellow cut Dagon's order short. Among the confusion of the battlefield Bernard could barely make out the source of it. He narrowed it down to a silhouette in the somewhere in the distance, towards where Yula was heading. Almost immediately Dagon made to follow her. As they disappeared behind the obelisk, it became apparent to Bernard that he was the only one left from their team still at the entrance. He wasn't sure where Veirs had slinked off to either, though he figured it had something to do with setting ambushes or taking care of unseen threats.

Alone at the gateway, he resolved to keep watch over the entrance while the others sorted out their various adventures. Unholstering both blasters, freshly upgraded with special kyber crystals, he leaned against the obelisk, a few paces away from the gateway into the underground library. As he stared at the dark edges of the abyss into the sand, he noted the uncanny lack of sith to protect the gateway directly..

Though, as soon as the thought entered his mind, he heard a groaning behind him. Before he could turn, clawed hands wrapped around his mouth and throat. Their touch was colder than ice, and the hold they had on him was firmer than steel. He could barely move his head by inches to either side as he struggled. The bladed digits started digging into his skin, drawing blood. It ran down his chin and neck, staining the top of his armour red. The claws continued to rake across his skin at a crawling pace. Whatever it was savoured its work.

Adrenaline shot through his veins like fire. His eyes widened even as he reigned in his thoughts to curb fear before it spread. Working quickly, he brought his blasters up across his chest, to point at the arms holding his head in place. He pulled the triggers, twice, and one of the arms fell off his face. The other one drew quickly across his face, opening long gashes, and disappeared into the obelisk.

Bernard jumped away from the obelisk, both blasters trained on it. It remained dormant. His pounding heart began to slow its rhythm. Reluctantly, he eased the tension in his body to stand upright. Before he could, something grabbed ahold of his leg, then something else the other. He looked down to find the same ethereal green hands clawing at the armour around his calves. They scraped along the metal, driving deep grooves into it. He fired a salvo into them, noting that only the viridian bolts of the mortis shard enhanced blaster seemed to connect. The white bolts of the ghostfire blaster passed through the discoloured flesh and harmlessly stirred up dirt on the ground.

The claws relented after enough shots, and Bernard began to dash towards the obelisk again, intending to warn Dagon and Yula, but his path was cut off. A figure, its flesh semi-transparent, broke out of the obelisk and landed right in Bernard's way. It wore robes that flowed, even without wind, and held a massive bladed weapon set with precious stones and carved runes. Bernard recognized it. The peculiar glow and appearance belonged only to creatures of the Netherworld.

The ghost turned its head, glowing eyes locking with Bernard's. It let out a screeching wail and raised its sword.

Bernard skid to a halt in the sand, and, right as the blade came down, dove out of its path. He crashed face-first into the sand, but quickly whirled about to train his blasters on the ghost.

The ethereal figure had moved faster than he thought it could. When he laid eyes on it again, it stood above him, blade turned downward to impale the forceless Padawan.

"Oh shavit."

 

[Kahne Porte]

Objective: BYOO, negotiations about the Bryn’adûl.
Location: VIP room, Cantina, Krayiss
Equipment: Suit / Lightsaber
Ingrid L'lerim

"Point of view?"

Kahne smirked at those words, his point of view was slightly different than your average Jedi's. This was evident as how he tried to explain his dealings and relationship with members of the Confederacy. The galaxy wasn't like it used to be, things had changed. People had evolved, the Jedi, Sith, Imperials all of them.

The Jedi requested the same as he took the cup and took a small sip, followed by another before he set it down. "From what I can see, one could begin to believe that the Chandra has lost herself in this war consumed by the millions of lives lost along with political issues along with it. One the other hand, you could say she's trying her hardest, to win this war at any cost. That could be one in the same thing. It could be said the same for the Imperator....."

The Jedi sighed slightly before continuing. "Truth be told, Ingrid. I am a man of hope. I strive for it, its why I've gotten to the point where I'm at. However, I do not believe differences will be set aside to bring full attention to the Bryn. Not now with Csilla's loss, there is essentially a new player in the game. With the ability to destroy a planet. There are those who are too stuck in their ways, and that's all they will see."

The Jedi reached for his cup and took another sip. He knew he could never fully truth the Sith Empire, not when they would run rampant with evil intent on enslaving worlds and even those factions that looked to annihilate all life. The Jedi knew that his enemy would always be those that strive to destroy hope and peace, whomever that would be.

"I honestly do not know what else can be done....."

 

[Sion Dallo]

SON OF KRAYISS
STRIKE TEAM REX | MILITIA
00:06:28
6.5/8 BARADIUM CHARGES | 1/1 CLASS A-DETONATORS
LOOKING DOWN THE BARREL OF A GUN

​

It’s startling, watching people die. Through all the exercises and drills, nobody was actually killed. And with demolitions...the fire just consumes everything.

Jumping back, I put a protective arm out to where my sister-in-law was supposed to be.

But I’m not looking at her, but I can reckon she’s looking at me. Real hard. Real intense-like.

All I’m looking at is the green eye behind the knuckles that are white over the trigger of a blaster focused on my face. The tube connected to a soulless chunk of metal that's still smoking from the shots that pummelled through the chest of Gar Harik. Gar used to be a butcher. He’d asked Captain Raith if he could be trained with knives, get the opportunity to get in real close to the enemy. He’d been excited at the prospect of cutting up someone who was part of the boot that was stomping against our necks and forcing him to barely cut a profit. He used to serve the best cuts on Krayiss.

And now he was a corpse with two smoking holes in his chest.

I didn’t know the guy who’d had his throat slit. All I knew was he hated the Sith as much as Mara and me, and that was enough for us to establish a professional sorta camaraderie for this occasion. That, and I’d seen him use a pistol while training with Captain Raith..and he’d been a neat shot.

There was some kind of irony that neither of them died by their weapon of choice.

Beneath the mask, I snarled.

Deadly mist crept through the streets, and I could start to smell it. Worse, I could feel it creeping and prickling around our feet and crawling up my torso. It's like the particles grew claws, and they were scratching at my lungs, scraping at them and opening them up to the poisonous burn.

I wanted to cough, but I was afraid that if I did, this son-of-a-gun would get trigger happy on me. I can barely hear anything above the sound of my own breath and the blood in my ears, and now I can’t feel anything but the mounting stress, adrenaline and itch in my throat.

Between the particulate toxin and the sharp burning ozone from the barrel of the blaster, my senses are overwhelmed. Pressure’s building behind my eyes, and fear lodges like a thick lump. My mouth’s completely dry when I speak to Mara.

<Keep going.> The words feel distant, like they belong to someone else. But they’re important. Our mission is too precious to sacrifice, and time wasn’t going to wait for us. We’re so close to the generator, so close that I can see it.

In one hand, my blaster hung limp. In the other, I brushed a thumb over the activation of another baradium charge –– making the gesture apparent enough for my would-be-murderer to see. I wanted him to see. I wanted that haunting green gaze to realize that if he killed me, he was coming with me and the flames. We’d burn together, and I’d blow up this whole block to cultivate a mutual hell fire

​

ALLIES | GA | NJO | NIO | Captain Raith | Suri Vullen | Zark San Tekka | Mara Harik [WE R FAMILY]
ENEMIES | TSE | Mazrim Caide/Taim

 

[Viers Connory]

//: Objective //: Face the Nightmares //:
//: Target //: Eva Betrik //:
//: Tags //: Cameron Crownwraithe //: Darth Strosius //:
//: Allies //: None //:
//: We Are Alive //:

No fear.

It was all she had at this moment, the others were busy, and she was on her own. Already the girl was foolish in wanting to move alone - she should have waited. Wasn’t that what working as a team meant? Viers calmed her breathing, forcing the rapid beating of her twin hearts to slow down. Panicking and making rash foolish choices would only hinder her ability to survive. The Sergeant was correct in his assessment of the Monk’s situation. She was outgunned and outnumbered, but the game wasn’t over.

“Having more doesn’t mean you automatically win, you know. Some of the great battles were won by a single stroke of luck.” As she finished, she faded from existence right before the eyes of the squadron that had her cornered. Moving as quickly as she could, she used the element of surprise to hopefully take down one or two of the troopers. Darting to her left, she remained as hidden as possible; her quarterstaff would sweep at the ankles of the flanking operative, then returned the staff’s bulbed spherical end into the helmet as hard as she could.

Popping back into view, she reached into the folds of her tunic and produced a simple grenade. Tossing it towards the center of the squadron, it was a desperate attack, but if she could thin the numbers quickly, there was a chance of her survival. The grenade would erupt roughly around the time it hit the ground. Still, Viers covered her face hoping to avoid being blinded by the blast. She tried and slipped back into the shadows, unaware that the troopers could spot her movements.​

 

[Laertia Io]

His skin blocked it. He was smart, had brought a defense protecting himself from Lightsabers.

She dodged, but wasn't quite fast enough, his elbow tore through the side of her armor, cracking a rib. A growl of pain escaped her throat as she staggered backward.

"If I lose, I lose." She said simply. "But at least I go down doing what I think is right. I study my defeats. And I retreat.Tactically. I do not run."

She held out her blade in a fools guard, now ready for any attempts to try and penetrate it like he had done before. She calmed herself, refusing to let emotion enter her thought process. She would not let him unsettle her with his pathetic moralizing in the face of the Omnicidal threat she'd first been exposed to at Yurb.

"You ever see a giant worm eat dozens of people at once? Because I have." Xiphos said, deactivating her blades and slipping into the Dragon Style Syd had taught her.

Her hands took on a clawed gesture as she assumed a loose stance.

"That's what I saw that day, at Nar Kreeta. An entire people murdered. For being weak. Not because they resisted conquest, not because killing them was necessary. Just being inferior in someone else's eyes. It's different from the Sith. Worse. You aren't even considered Slave Material." Xiphos hissed, having never stopped having nightmares of Nar Kreeta. Or any of the other planets.

"They're more evil than any Sith. They just want only them left!" Xiphos added. "Even if The Sith Empire lives another Century they still won't cause the damage to the Galaxy that the Bryn'adul are causing now."

Xiphos lunged, strikes fast and loose, aimed at his throat and liver, backed by immense Strength


Aaran Tafo

 

[Kirie]

In Over Her Head

Objective 1 - Strike Team Kenobi
Krayiss II
The Obelisk
Allies: Sol Stazi | Coren Starchaser
Baddies: Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir

Kirie faced down the man ahead of her. She was still reeling from her encounter with the Sith acolyte moments before, her stomach turning at the memory of his death. She would have to investigate it after the battle, once she was back in the security of the temple. But for now, she was alone, and would have to figure something out.

A strange resolve filled her, diminishing the panic that was bubbling away inside her, and slowing the thudding of her heart within her chest. In her brief time training she had become better at recognising the Force in action. Someone was lending her strength.

The issue of her sensitivity, her sharing of pain would have to be resolved later. For now all she could do was avoid inflicting more pain, avoid hurting or killing anyone else. A tough ask for someone in the middle of a warzone.

Thankfully, the unknown man in front of her did not seem immediately aggressive, and he did not leap into the fray to fight her as she had feared. It seemed the sight of Kirie's saber had cowed him enough.

He was tall and slender, with sharp features that were evocative of a face she recognised, but couldn't quite place. In one hand he held a fine black cane, and in the other a pile of items clutched against his chest.

Kirie lowered her guard slightly as he spoke.

"You don't want to kill an unarmed man, do you? Oh, and the red blade will not fit to your eyes.."

She frowned. Hopefully that meant there wouldn't be a fight. Still, she had to keep up appearances.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she told the man, then, after a moment, added “if you do as I tell you."

She looked at him, doing her best to look strong and confident despite the fact her legs were shaking and she felt ill. “The saber’s not mine, but it’ll do the job if you try anything."

She stepped towards the man, presumably not a Sith but someone in their employ, probably somebody of note to be allowed in the temple. She looked at the man, his arms were full and he was carrying a backpack that was stuffed full. She frowned at him, remembering the original purpose of the Alliance’s mission here. She didn’t necessarily agree with it, but they had made their decision.

“What are you carrying?” She asked the man, pointing to the bag.