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

[Voyana]

Objective 1
Enemies: GA SIA | Allyson Locke

Spoiler: The Story

Objective 1
Enemies: GA SIA | Allyson Locke


Wars were like Life Day for Voyana.

People were too busy killing and running to guard their chit effectively. You'd think they'd have forgotten the age ole lesson of watchin their back, but that was fine with her.

She'd give them a reason to remember.


Yanno she really had like Ziost. Had a few of her best customers there. Now they were dead and she was looking 10k credits short on her monthly installments. Felt only right she take it back from the dung heads that had done her dirty.

She ripped the wires from a control panel of some GA marked vessel and let herself right on in. The sounds of the distant chaos died out as the damp darkness of the metal hull swallowed her whole. There was an uncomfortableness to the quiet that she shaked right off. Aint no one gonna find her back here, they were too busy killin and flexin their gun boners.

She walked with confident steps through the halls, instinct guiding her straight to the good stuff. "Bingo."

She pried off the metal hatch and kneeled down to the base of the cockpit's communication systems. Intel sold like hotcakes in war.

Served the feckers right.

​

​

​

//: Ziost //:
//: Voyana //:

Allyson moved quietly through the shadows; her mission was simple. Retrieve some lost information left in some of the wreckage nearby and ensure that no secrets were leaked to anyone untrustworthy. A simple task, one that she felt she was above. This was definitely and most probably a punishment from the woman in charge.

No complaints though, Allyson preferred to return to Ziost, not on the front lines. So slowly, the Corellian crept along the abandoned structures until she found the wreckage on her HUD. The cybernetic eye quickly scanned, searching for any sabotage that the Sith had decided to strap into it or, worse, scalpers.

The scan came up clean for threats; all that was ruining the Corellian's day was something crouched ripping through the cockpit's internal systems. Allyson waited to see if any other figures popped up, and nothing. Seems this one worked alone. Pulling her blaster, she snuck up, still hidden with Force Cloak until she stood behind the woman. Shimmering into view, the tip of the blaster pressed against the back of Voyana's head.

"Well then, looks like you made my job a whole lot easier. Who do you work for? You're too careless to be a Sith - but maybe I'm just giving them a bit more credit than I should." Her tone sharp and to the point, hoping to intimidate the girl into giving up. It would make the exchange a whole lot easier.​

​

​

​

Objective 1
Enemies: GA SIA | Allyson Locke



Hot shock burned through her, like the first shot of a bad whisky.

Her hands went up, the memory stick dropped into the top of her cleavage along the way. They were pockets of convenience, really, and in some cases a weapon in itself. The edge of the voice behind her killed that idea in its crib. She found her attacker's reflection in the glow of the read outs she had been going through.

Caught red handed then.

She remained cool, her shoulders relaxed as she continued to watch Allyson's reflection in the screen.

"I aint no sith."

She put her hands behind her head and turned slowly, a brow raised at the woman that had got the better of her.

How the hell.

"Now you gonna use that or are you-" Her hand snapped out from behind her, a gleam of metal flying for Allyson's eye. Voyana's freed hair fell like a curtain around her face. At the same moment, she moved to shove the gun to the side and break it from the woman's grip.

The well practiced movements were like clockwork. Sometimes, she liked to shake it up though. Sometimes, she aimed for the dick.

​

​

//: Pretty Dangerous Faces //:
//: Voyana //:

A part of Allyson relaxed hearing that the girl wasn’t a sith. It meant that she was just some random street rat trying to benefit from the war. A younger Allyson would probably have been right next to her helping - or wrestling her for the part she was fishing for.

Younger Allyson would have taken a chance - shoot her shot to try and get a number over a part. Oh, younger Allyson, you sly fox.

The woman was far too calm; Allyson already could sense something was up her sleeve - this wasn’t the attitude of someone caught. Allyson tightened her grip on the blaster as suddenly, another appeared in her face. As Voyana moved to knock Allyson’s blaster from her hand, the Spy’s free hand moved forward and grabbed the woman by her collar, and a foot kicked the girl’s leg from under her.

When and if she tried to shoot - her blaster would instantly malfunction as the pieces would shatter from barrel to the grip. A smirk spread across the Corellian’s gaze as she sighed heavily.

“Why’s it always the pretty ones that do the DUMBEST chit?” She finished as her blaster now burrowed into Voyana’s temple. “Yes, I’ll use it - but sometimes I like to figure out a good reason for karking blowing your brains out. Now. Start talking; you look smart enough to know you’re karked, right?”

​

"Whoa, whoa whoa! Hey, hey!" Voyana's hands splayed out by her head. The fight had gone out of her the moment the blaster had hit tender belly of her temple, the girl knowing exactly what that meant.

"I surrender, I surrender okay? Feth- that was special edition! They don't make them like that anymore," she complained. The shattered pieces of her blaster clattered out of her hands. She tried to stroke a piece on the ground, face pale and distraught. There wasn't much she loved in the cursed galaxy but that gun... that gun and been it.

"Sithspit, how did you- youch." She tried to jerk her head away from the barrel, a mark left in her skin.

"Ah, hell. You think that's gonna work? I aint scared of monks. Blowin your ass up is worth any cell. I aint no snitch."

She struggled against the woman's hold, shoving and pushing as if there wasn't a gun to her temple to begin with. The knee in her kidney was causing all sorts of discomfort. "Gettoff."

 

[Auteme]

Ishida Ashina Okkeus Dainlei | Bernard Dagon Kaze ​

They spoke in silence for what felt like hours, until finally the sorcerer released his spell and Auteme drew breath again.

"The Court sees fit to test your knowledge," the judge said, before his speech became harsher, in the almost jagged language of the Sith. "I assume you can understand me?"

"Yes," she replied, somewhat tentatively. She'd learned to read and listen, but this was the first time she'd spoken Sith.

"Good. Tell me, what do you know of the structure we reside in?"

"It's Krayiss Two's Library Temple. Well- isn't this one rebuilt? It was destroyed, at some point, during the Sith Empire's conquest of the planet- well, that's not true. It was originally abandoned and fell to ruin, ah, fifteen thousand years ago? There were a few Jedi visitors over many years, supposedly, but you know, the records are scattered."

"That is correct. What specifically drew the Jedi here?"

"I'm not sure. The... the obelisk," she said, gesturing behind her, "There were rumours about it, I think? But either way, a Jedi is supposed to learn about the Force- ah, all of the Force. Not the Dark Side, just the Force." A little bit of 'validation' for the Sith's version of the Force, she thought, might make the Court a bit more amenable.

The judge leaned forward. His gaze seemed to want to burn right through her, but she kept a straight face, doing her best to stare calmly back. Finally he rested, straightening against the back of his throne.

"You knew Jedi had come here before, yet still you arrived... I would almost call you brave.

"Do you know the Jedi Knight, Vara Nreem?"

 

[Yula Perl]

Allies | Dagon Kaze

Enemies | [TSE] Zaavik Perl

​

If Yula’s aim was to agitate Zaavik, then she’d hit the mark. The air around them changed, tensed with exasperation and impatience when her cousin announced the unvoiced conclusion that neither of them would be backing down.

She warily watched every twitch, every shift in his stance while thought formed in the periphery of her mind. Yula learned that to persuade someone who simply didn’t want to be persuaded would be useless. Zaavik’s mind had been made up before she’d even set foot planetside, and there likely wasn’t anything in the galaxy she could do to change it. She was here now, she was trying, and if she couldn’t do anything to help Zaavik, then what could she do to protect her family? That thought—that her efforts would be in vain—was intolerable.

"Just remember; you chose this."

He came at her from the side, blindingly fast. Yula was fortunate that for two things; the esoteric warning of the Force, and the verbal warning she’d gotten from Zaavik just moments before. Both allowed her just enough time to shift back, wrist turning, bringing her saber to parry the incoming strike. For a moment, plasma met plasma with a violent hiss.

Zaavik hit her like a bullet while she was still mid-turn, his incredible and unprecedented strength knocking Yula clean off of her feet. She spiraled back several paces into a sprawl, wispy clouds of dust dissipating around her. But her head was still in the game, probably even more so now that the first blow had been struck. She clambered to her feet, grip tightening around the saber hilt as she hurriedly pushed back the disheveled hair from her face.

“You little chit!” She snarled, throwing away any pretext of trying to temper her emotions.

Stamping her feet into the ground, she lowered her stance while circling around the width between them. While she moved, her thumb idly brushed against the ignition of her saber, stroking the wheel a few times until the intensity of the blade had dialed a tic or so downward to non-lethal levels.

"Until there were credits involved, that much was good enough for everyone."

“You think I care about there being credits involved?!” She’d have to ask Dagon about that later, but now wasn’t the time. Doubt and guilt continued to seep into her mind, drawing the corners of her lips down. He’d gone. Disappeared. Zaavik liked his privacy and was similar to Yula who’d vanish for her own reasons from time to time. Maybe that was why they’d gotten along so well—or one of the reasons, at least. But she hadn’t checked in on him, neglected to reach out until it was too late. Maybe if she had, there would have been some way that she could have helped her cousin.

Some way to avert the disaster that was staring her down like an obstacle. Zaavik had never looked at her in that was before, and it unnerved her more than she would admit.

Yula sprung on Zaavik, saber held low and to the side with intent to arc upwards in a diagonal slash, from right to left.

When she came upon the closest she could get to Zaavik, she snarled at him.

“What happened to you, Zaav? What turned you into such an idiot?”

At the last moment, she suddenly passed the saber to her left hand, switching low and aiming to burn the rough location of his Achilles tendon with a quick, sharp slice.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Sol Stazi Kirie​

The Jedi Master knew what he needed to do, he was a warrior, it was second nature for him to be fighting something of this nature. Darkness, something unnatural. He was a Jedi, and one that was becoming more and more to serve the balance. What balance was that? The one created by life, the natural course. He knew that people saw the Jedi in a similar light of the Sith, those who have the ability to change the fortune of those around them, who will exert a level of control. The Sith were the ones who controlled. For a Jedi, the goal was to not fight, to protect those that couldn’t, and to find swift end to a foe, not necessarily in death, but in stopping them from fighting.

This was why the Force forms and lightsaber forms existed. To bring the Jedi into combat with the tools they needed, and why moves that would remove limbs or weapons were so important and core to those forms. Sentients armed with weapons and thoughts were easily dispatched.

That was not the same for dark side abominations.

The Force was what he was reaching for, as the Jedi Master had found solace in combat surrounding the use of the mystical power, but even he knew that sometimes a lightsaber was the quicker approach. A surgical tool.

But as he saw an tentacle arm rise up, the Jedi Master used the Force to help slide himself over a hill as he created a barrier around one of the heavier weapons and its compliments of soldiers. His lightsabers ignited as he stood up, expanding the barrier as the arm retreated.

Could he be getting slow in his age? Possible. Likely? He thought not. The Force was reaching to the gathered, and that included the padawan. He was going to lend her, and those on the inside, if he could penetrate this darkness, his power, his resolve. Danger sense was not one of his best traits, but with the darkness around them all, he knew it may be best to focus on his own side, and let the Padawan figure out her own threats. He would step in as he could.

A swing of his Starchaser’s Light followed by the purified blade of a fallen Sith removed one additional arm as Coren turned to blast a barrier between a soldier about to be knocked down by another. That was when he heard the call from Sol. It hated the light. In this place he wasn’t about to pull out the darkness burning Force Light, but he had a trick.

“Night vision off!” He shouted over comms as he held up his hand, the Force already flowing up to his arm. A fist around the hilt that held the specialized Light side crystal and a few seconds from his order, an incredible white light burst out from his hand, akin to staring directly into a sun, and blasting out in a wave, intent to throw the monster into fear, but he could already tell not everyone followed his command as fast as he hoped.

 

[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.
​

Their mission was complete, but as combat still raged across the City entire - There was still more work to be done. Gideon shook his head slightly at that prospect. He would’ve relished the idea of continuing the fight against the Sith garrison, but the fact he was saddled with Partisans made the operation more difficult than it needed to be. They weren’t the Special Forces Commandos that he was used to operating with. Nor were they as adequately trained as he wanted them to be. They were, for lack of a better phrase, sufficient enough to see the job through until the end. These people were driven by their emotions, flocking to the banner of the Alliance not because they wanted to. But, because they offered an opportunity to avenge the deaths of their friends and family.

There was no love between both parties, nor blind admiration. They were temporarily aligned for a mutually beneficial cause. If the Sith were made to pay for their crimes against the people of Krayiss - then perhaps the souls of the fallen would rest easy. Perhaps, they could move on with their lives in relative peace. The Alliance, on the other hand, sought to redeem themselves in the eyes of their own people - in the distant region of the Core Worlds. The failures of the Stygian Campaign were a wound that was beginning to fester in the heartland, and a victory here would perhaps see to cauterizing their pride. Thus, the Partisans, like their Alliance counterparts, were simply a means to an end.

Gideon knew this. It’s why he did his best to train them as well as he could in the interceding weeks. The man imparted everything he knew about Guerilla and Unconventional Warfare. It was the only chance these Partisans had against the nigh-indomitable Garrison of Sith-Imperial Soldiers. In many respects, they were outnumbered, and outgunned. Such insurmountable odds would cow even the most impassioned of patriots, as there was no way they could fight the Sith on equal terms. But, that was why they wouldn’t fight like professional soldiers. They were Rebels, now. Trained killers that would use every advantage they had at their disposal to claim some form of success. If that success, or successes, morphed into Victory? Well, it was too soon to tell.

The greater picture, as the ARC Trooper would come to understand it, as relayed across the Alliance’s encrypted BattleNet, was understandably grim. The Sith Garrison had projected it’s force across a majority of the Walled City, with only few pockets of resistance standing in opposition. Distant Artillery pieces were shelling positions that reportedly housed active insurgents, attempting to drive them out into the open and into the waiting arms of the Sith Troopers that took to the streets. It was an effective tactic, for a time. But, Guerilla Warfare was all about mobility - and using the terrain to their advantage.

Thus, as the battle progressed, the shells raining down on the various embattled districts would gradually lose their effectiveness - as their billowing clouds would claim no more lives.

That was, until the Sith Empire adapted their tactics. Heavier munitions were being utilized in one of the outermost districts, turning entire buildings and city blocks to ruined stretches of collapsed infrastructure. Sadly, while effective in dealing with what opposition could be found there, it also affected those innocents who were now trapped there, or weren’t able to evacuate when the fighting began. Such were the unfortunate circumstances when fighting a Guerilla Campaign. There was always a threat to non-combatants in populated urban centres, whether it be intentional or circumstantial collateral. Emotions would doubtlessly be running high on either side of the conflict, and mistakes happened - especially when thrust into the incandescence of a firefight.

Gideon sighed heavily at the thought of Civilian casualties. But, such notions were cast aside as Jorran slapped a meaty palm on the ARC Trooper’s pauldron. Drawn from the scrolling screed of data that bathed his vision, he looked towards the Partisan and found only concern in the man’s dark, hooded eyes. “My family,” He said, after a moment of silence. “I have a Brother that lives near the City centre, with his wife and two kids.” His calm, and collected visage was slowly eroding away to reveal the underlying panic now afflicting his mind. “I enlisted in the cause because I thought fighting for their future would make all of this worth it. Because we’re not faceless pawns to be discarded when the Sith tire of playing their games.”

“I know,” Gideon nodded. “But, we cannot break away from the fight. The other Partisans need our guns to finish this fight. They need our mobility to circle around and drag the Sith into another dozen ambushes, and to support the Alliance's advance into the City!” The Rebel’s expression soured then. Clearly, what the ARC Trooper said went against everything he believed in. His reasons for enlisting and believing in the cause were clear, yet this Alliance Commando showed no compassion or sympathy for the cause - other than doing whatever was necessary to kill the Sith. If there were any souls ensnared by vengeance, then Gideon would reign supreme amongst them all.

“I can’t abandon them,” Jarron said, at last, breaking the momentary silence that built between the two and slowly receding away. “We’ve come so far… I can’t consign them to be purged like our Father before. Who knows what they’ll do to the people now that they’re rounding them up?”

Gideon’s eyes narrowed. “You can save them by committing yourself to the cause, Jarron. If we win and the Sith withdraw - Your family won’t be in danger.”

That was enough to push Jarron over the edge. His soured expression became one of barely constrained rage. “Won’t be in danger? Do you realize what the Sith are doing to my people, ARC Trooper? They’re shelling any groups that look like insurgents. Can you tell the difference between non-combatants fleeing the battle, and armed Partisans? I can’t. All they’ll see is their own people rising up against them at the behest of the Alliance. That we’re nothing more than chattel that need to be purged to safeguard the stability of their Empire. Add in some Droids marching down the streets shooting anything that moves, or spewing caustic chemicals at our Scouts?”

“Yeah,” Jarron snarled, sarcastically. “My family won’t be in danger. Clearly, you believe in the Cause more than you believe in the people fighting for it.”

“I’m done with you,” the Partisan said with some finality. “I’m going to save my family from this madness before buildings start teleporting out of the sky like the stories you've told us about Ziost. Go on then, ARC Trooper. Fight for your cause. See where that gets you.”
​

“I’m going to go fight for those I love.” ​

- 00:2:25

~-~*~-~

| Zark San Tekka | Suri Vullen | Sion Dallo | Mara Harik |
| DarrVack | Valen Arenais | The Amalgam | Mazrim Caide/Taim | @Others |​

 

[Kahne Porte]

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

"Of course." Kahne responded as he thought with any superweapon he thought back to the death star, long before his time. Searching deep into the archives of the Jedi when he first joined the Republic. Kahne had prayed something of that magnitude would never come to light and sure enough, here they were at a later time and things hadn't changed. There were those that still wished to make an impact and leave their legacy on the galaxy, no matter what the cost. Millions of lives were lost on Csilla, if they did it before it could be done again.

"If it was only that easy." Kahne said with a small sigh. "Force forbid something else were to happen and they join forces." The Jedi said in slight jest, but being completely serious.

King Of Midvinter......?

The Jedi's eyebrow raised slightly when she mentioned this. "Thurion? Thurion Heavenshield?" Kahne said, much more rhetorical than anything, there was only truly one king of Midvinter and the Jedi Master was there the day that he and his wife were crowned King and Queen of Midvinter. There were few Jedi that he considered to best of all of them, and Thurion was indeed one of them. He is a good friend.

"I assure you, you can count on my support against the Bryn. As far as ending the Civil War, that is something outside of my control right now. The best I can do is lend advice, I cannot force anyone's hand. I just hope that those leading will see reason and decide the best course of action." The Jedi reached for the cup and took another sip, rather sweet and always simple. Kahne smirked slightly as he set the cup back down. Everyone had their own motives for doing what they do, and it was it that respect. Caution at all times. She could count on his support against the Byrn. And while she confided in him well enough to show him something that he essentially wasn't supposed to see, just to those present. It seemed to be an early sign of trust, with that being said. Truly, he didn't know her.

"Csilla's destruction is a complete and utter tragedy. As much as I hate to say it, while it may have been the worst thing, it also may have been the best thing to happen. It always takes something complete, destruction. A terrible deed to force a change in the galaxy."

Pity, that it had to come to something like this.

 

[Zark San Tekka]

342ND STAR CORPS
TEMPLESTONE
STYGIAN CALDERA
Suri Vullen Captain Raith Skye Pearce Sion Dallo Mara Harik
DarrVack (engaging) Valen Arenais Felix Aquila

"Contact right! Traverse main cannon."

Colonel Hal Varik was sweating inside his combat armor. He could smell the stench of ozone and blood permeating the Alliance tactical enforcer. Each step the heavy walker took jostled his marines. Their mass driver cannon fired annihilating a Sith heavy weapons team garrisoned within one of the ruined buildings. No longer pinned down by enemy fire the GADF infantry advanced farther into hostile territory. Hal checked his chrono with increasing trepidation.

"Status?"

"Still a few klicks out from the General's position."

"Karabast!" the Colonel swore, "Increase to flank speed."

They barely made it another city block before Hal's comlink lit up like it was Life Day. Multiple frantic reports of inbound bombers competed for his attention. He remembered screaming for the armor column to take evasive action before his world turned upside down. Next thing he knew he was waking up in the smoke filled cabin of a burning walker. Instincts kicked in and Colonel Varik dragged a screaming marine from the wreck half blinded by a crack in his visor. He tugged off the ruined helmet in time to witness what was left of Templestone's streets.

It was some kind of broadcap or bunker buster charge. There was nothing left of the Star Corps vanguard. One of the bombers scored a direct hit on their forward column. Deflector shields had saved his life but the fallout's kinetic force sent the Colonel's tactical enforcer violently crashing into rubble. With one hand keeping pressure on the screaming marine's nasty leg wound, Hal gazed around in numb shock at the sheer scale of destruction.

"General!" he nearly stammered into his comlink, "Sith forces still maintain air superiority. We cannot break through to your position without risking further unacceptable losses! Please advise."

"Copy that, Hal. Pull back to the broken gate. I'll retask the Gorgons with covering your position. As long as they're focused on our walkers we can reinforce this ground with the airborne. The Sith aren't afraid of collateral damage so we need to grab them by the belt buckle! I'm too close for them to bomb without damaging the Tower's own defenses. When my troopers clear a landing zone we'll plant a beacon."

"Great, so now I'm the distraction."

"All is as the Force wills it. Just a few more minutes, Colonel. Dawn breaks."

Zark plunged his saber through an Omyn battle droid even as he spoke the words. Talon Squad made short work of the remaining Sith patrol. It seemed like this close to the Tower organic Sith legionnaires gave way to advanced combat automata. He wondered if this was sign of a growing distrust between the Empire's sorcerer aristocracy and their ungifted menials. Even an Imperial fanatic might balk at obliterating entire districts with bunker bombs and chemical weapons. Droids were far more reliable in their programmed savagery.

"Fall back to the command post!"

So far he'd used the fog of war to their advantage but the Jedi General could tell his enemy was starting to work out where exactly they were. That last patrol had not wandered by on accident. It was hunting for them, seeking to probe their defenses for intel to relay back to whoever pulled the strings. Most likely the war droids had at least in part succeeded. Only a few dropships remained in the combat zone so he needed to land as many infantry reinforcements as possible before Zark's surroundings became too dangerous for any sane pilot to risk.

"Gas! Gas! Gas! Check your seals!"

His precognition forewarned the Jedi Master of a passing dioxis cloud. Wind patterns and artillery fire blew each shell's fallout onto sometimes unpredictable courses. Zark relied on his compact NJO rebreather instead of a cumbersome helmet to keep breathing. Talon Squad kept moving. There was an intact rooftop on the same street as the ruined Sith shrine his forty marine speartip had occupied and reinforced with some mobile emplacements of their own.

That was where General San Tekka would place his beacon.

Spoiler: Equipment and Assets

STRIKE TEAM HUNTER
(main assault wave from orbit)
212th Expeditionary Corps
222nd Nova Corps
342nd Star Corps
(elements of each)
Freelance Operatives
GENERAL ZARK SAN TEKKA
(that's me!)
Jedi Commander Armor
Utility Belt
Crusader Pendant
Star Compass
Crossguard Lightsaber
OPERATIONAL COMMAND
(non-background NPCs)
Bacta Company
628th Airborne Company (air crews)
81st Scout Battalion (armor crews)
MECHANIZED ASSETS
(tonk stuff)
5x NSTL-62a Landspeeders
4x Halberd Tactical Enforcers
2x Gladius Recon Transports
3x Pernach Turbo Tanks
2x Gorgon Artillery Platforms
AIR SUPPORT ASSETS
(x-wing stuff)
5x TT-48 Troop Carriers
3x HAAT Assault Transports
LOSSES
5x NSTL-62a
4x Halberd
10x Gladius
1x Pernach
1x TT-48
1x HAAT
SUMMARY OF ACTIONS
Armored column vanguard takes a direct hit from StarFortress broadcap bombs. Forward half of GADF advance wiped out.
Remaining armor pulls back to a breach in the fortress walls. Gorgon artillery platforms ordered to eliminate any bombers which threaten the column's immediate airspace.
Advance team of 40 marines under General San Tekka skirmish with Omyn battle droid patrols before falling back to secure a secondary landing zone for incoming wave of TT-48s and HAATs.

 

[Viers Connory]

//: Objective //: Face the Nightmares //:
//: Target //: Eva Betrik //:
//: Allies //: None //:
//: I am Your Reflection //:

The SICA trooper's helmet making contact with her leather boot brought a sense of accomplishment and calm to the Monk. Viers landed gracefully; the boots kicked up some of the loose dirt. The girl groaned as she did her best to remain on her feet. The pain from her wounded and bleeding leg reminded her of her mortality again. Despite how expansive it was, the Force always had its limitations, and Viers could feel her finding her wall. Hazel eyes stared down at the face that now appeared from under the helmet. Her opponent was no older than she was. Maybe in another lifetime, they could have been friends, enjoying a peaceful and simple life.

But that wasn't how the galaxy worked, not in this era. Viers let the moment pass; she said nothing and didn't strike again. There was a lingering fear that if she pursued the girl now that she was down, she could kill her as well. Blood was already on her hands; there was no reason to continue to smear her soul with it. Eyes peeled away as she moved again, prepared to intercept the fire from the last two standing SICA troopers. This time she was ready for the blaster fire. The quarterstaff spun in front of her deflecting the fire away from her. Even though the Corellian was prepared, her inexperience was her downfall.

With each stride, she drew closer, both were able to land a couple of hits on the Jedi. Viers gritted through the pain as her arms bled through the leather guards on her forearms and wrists. With every step, Viers felt the never-ending pain. It was pure agony, but with the Force puppeteering her, she continued her dance.

Standing within range, Viers spun the quarterstaff, swinging it wide towards the Sergeant's head, first with the weapon's tip and then kicking up the bottom to strike near his throat. Neither would be lethal, but hopefully enough to knock him on his back. From the corner of her eye, she looked towards the other; rubble from her grenade would kick up and rapidly fire into the other SICA trooper's torso. Don't kill another, you can't kill another one, Ashla forgive me… Viers moved to swing again, taking the shots that were fired from the pair as she attacked.

The quarterstaff suddenly fell from her hands, blood dripped from her wounds, and she coughed again. Red ichor oozed from her lips as she gasped. Her back, peppered with scorch marks from the blaster rifle, would soon begin to pool red. The white tunic that was laced with gold was no longer pure. Crimson circles swelled as she tried to breathe, the Force finally showing her the limit to its greatness. "Ashla…" She whispered, "F-" Another gasping breath, oxygen no longer providing relief, "F-Forgive me…" Viers looked over her shoulder at the girl who she had spared only moment's before. Eyes focused on the blaster rifle as she felt the mechanical inner workings of the weapon - searching for something to stop it. The Monk was inexperienced and could only growl with frustration. Mechu Deru wasn't going to aid her if she didn't know the weapon well enough.

Reaching behind her, she produced two lightsabers, both ignited with a brilliant hum and golden glow. Quickly, she swung the shorter of the pair slicing at the weapon. But, unfortunately, her blade would miss, and the weight of her attack would force her to fall. Dirt and blood mixed in her mouth as she groaned. Oh, how she wanted to give up, her body cried to stop, but she couldn't. Her mission, her revenge burned at her core, forcing her to press on.

Viers was now a cornered and wounded animal; as she tried to stand, she collapsed to one knee as she looked at the remaining SICA members. Golden ion blades humming prepared to protect its wielder fiercely. She forced herself back to her feet and turned to face Eva. Her steps were long and labored, her lungs gasping for air that abandoned her. Tears streaked against her cheeks as she coughed again, her blood slowly drowning her. Just a little longer, and I can rest. A small voice in her mind reassured her. Her body would shrug as the weapons continued to fire, the Force slowly fading from her consciousness, but she kept at her pursuit, with each bloody footstep.​

 

[The Amalgam]

The Amalgam watched, privately amused as Starlin Rand held up his bracelet. He had a lot to learn. No one should ever display their advantages so casually. Ever. He mocked her lack of subtlety.

"Some days I feel like being subtle, some days I don't." She chuckled. "Being subtle however, is something you've yet to even learn..."

She casually, lazily parried the blow to her neck, spotting the feint for her chest, and back flipped from the Leg sweep.

"Redemption? Redemption is nothing more than a form of spiritual collapse. A fall few recover from. You cling to the hope of watching a mere change in perception." She sneered as she watched him draw the second blade...only to shoot out powerful green lightning that she grinded against one of her blades, flesh on her face warping and burning due to her proximity to lightning.

"All your power and knowledge comes from a heretic..." She sneered, face one one side starting to turn moldy and rot. "When the Jedi Order learns the absolute extant of her crimes, you yourself will always be under suspicion and mistrust, simply because you were trained by her. The only reason you can keep up with me at all is because the Heretic gave you her wisdom."

The Amalgam decided to stop playing with him.

She drew in the terrible darkness of the temple, letting it fill every molecule, rapidly regenerating her flesh as she focused the will of dozens of witches on his face, specifically near his eyes.

Then she tried to will his eyes to superheat and melt out of his sockets.

From far away, far off, Syd sensed the closest thing she had to a Son in danger, and immediately began meditating to lend him Strength, chanting to help his spirit against the Dark Side...

Meanwhile...

The Model 1's in the temple and elsewhere fought brutally, slaying Marines with Electrostaves, setting them ablaze with flamethrowers in their mouths, or just causing horrifying deaths in general. GA Soldiers were dragged screaming into the dark to be gutted.

In the City, The Model 2's rampaged, killing anyone not in a Sith Uniform as they marched, their lasers sending an endless wave of red against Rebel Scum, pelted relentlessly the moment they came out of Cover. Model 1 scouts began to send coordinates to the Artillery teams, better identifying Rebel Scum hiding in houses. The Model 2's would rush in immediately after an area was shelled, shooting at anything that pointed a weapon, leaving alive anyone that didn't have a weapon and were running. No one could accuse The Nuetralizers of not having standards. They began to more heavily reinforce certain streets, really trying now to put the Squeeze to the GA and The Rebels by hindering their movements as best they could, Model 1 Snipers rained death from tall buildings with Anti-Materiel Rifles at natural choke points, killing scores of rebels, others dying from make shift bombs the Model 2's hid in the ground...


Captain Raith

Valen Arenais

Zark San Tekka

DarrVack

Mazrim Caide/Taim

Suri Vullen

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

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

Objective: BYOO, negotiations about the Bryn’adûl.
Location: VIP room, Cantina, Krayiss
Equipment: The Soulsabers (hidden) | Brynja coat | Hersir Imperial Uniform | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | G1 OmniLink | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Writing With: Kahne Porte

[ See me Fight ] ​

"I know, unfortunately, the perfect world does not exist."

If it had existed, the woman would still have been just an agent, or would just lead Blackwatch, or perform the duties of the Intelligence Committee like Overseer. In the worst case, it would only be Overlord. In fact, any scenario suited her where she didn’t have to rule and Adrian is still alive. But yes, a perfect world did not exist, unfortunately.

"But now that we know they can do that, intelligence agents will hopefully work more efficiently in the Maw's cases to make it this will never happen again."

She added. Ingrid seemed to have managed to find the point at which she had won the man for herself, interestingly it was not arguments, information, data that convinced the other, but a name. She saw the Jedi's reaction when she uttered the name of Midwinter’s King. Yes, perhaps it may be really interesting that the ruler on the side of the Sith was also able to convince and win a Jedi Grand Master to herself.

"Yes, Lord Heavenshield. Is that so surprising, Mr. Porte? The encounter with him set me on this path, not long after Bryn’adûl attacked us. My bloodline is from Midwinter, we are traditionalists, not surprisingly I offered my help to the High King."

She said kindly as she sipped her drink again. Ingrid nodded gratefully at the man's words.

"Thank you, Mr. Porte! No, I'm not asking anyone to get involved in politics, it's a completely different matter. Here, in this initiative, everyone is helping in the way they can. I am grateful for the offer! And yes, maybe if they see that there are those who work together, then leaders will also be more open on this issue."

She really hoped it would be that way and it would all come true. Ingrid nodded worriedly at the man's next words. The woman thought so too, history has always repeated itself, and the same thing has always happened.

"I agree, Mr. Porte. I would like to see once that such circles break and the Galaxy does not commit the same mistakes and sins over and over again…"

 

[Eva Betrik]

Objective I - Defend the Temple
​

Location: Krayiss II, Temple-Library
Allies: TSE
Foes: GA | Viers Connory

There was a moment, with the Jedi standing over her, that Eva thought it might all come to an end. It wouldn't even take a weapon strike to kill her, not with her helmet gone. All her enemy had to do was stomp on her head, and the short and messy life of Corporal Evalina Betrik would come to an anticlimactic conclusion. But that didn't happen. For whatever reason, the Jedi didn't follow up, and instead turned to the two members of the SICA squad who were still standing. It gave the young corporal time to crawl over to her fallen rifle, time to lift it to her shoulder and rejoin the fight. She was going to prove that not finishing her off like Kerelenko had been a fatal error.

From her position sprawled on the temple floor, she turned and opened fire.

Maybe there was something to the anti-Jedi training the squad had received, instructing them to spread out and fire on the Force-knights from multiple angles, because it seemed to be working. Although the young woman they were shooting at spun her quarterstaff with great skill, sending blaster bolt after blaster bolt into the walls, ceiling, and floor, some of them slipped by and struck home. The Jedi was taking wounds to her arms and back, and although it wasn't dropping her, it was clearly slowing her down. Eva had to give her foe credit - she was tough. Shots that would have felled any of the troopers hadn't taken her one down.

Did you have to cut off Jedi's heads or pierce their hearts or something, like monsters from mom's bedtime stories?

The troopers kept frantically firing as the Jedi drew closer, knowing that she would catch them if they tried to turn and run; she was fast as feth. Their only chance was dropping her before she reached them, but she was persisting through the hail of fire as if walking against a strong headwind rather than a lethal barrage. Before Eva's incredulous, frightened eyes, she reached Sgt. Zenik and whipped her quarterstaff twice into his head, a one-two punch of temple and throat. Zenik dropped like a felled tree, hitting the floor hard. He didn't even try to catch himself, so he must be unconscious. A spiderweb of cracks ran along the left side of his helmet.

Eva just hoped that the Jedi hadn't crushed his trachea. She couldn't lose another friend today.

Their target rounded on Rance, and this time she didn't even bother with a weapon strike. Hell, she didn't even go for a mystical wave of her hand; she just looked at him, and suddenly chunks of rubble blown from the temple walls flew in his direction. The dark stone fragments slammed into Rance, sending him flying backward to land in a heap against the wall. A low moan signaled that he'd survived the rough treatment, at least for now, but he was clearly out of the fight; he was pinned by the rubble, and Eva would've been beyond shocked if he'd managed to go through all that without breaking a couple of ribs at the very least.

It was all down to her now. The thought had her breaking out in a cold sweat, her hands clammy in her gauntlets. The Jedi murmured something in a low, pained voice as she turned toward Eva, some religious mumbo-jumbo about Ashla and forgiveness. She seemed to be staring at Eva's blaster, and the thought sent a fresh thrill of panic up the trooper's spine. Without this weapon, she'd be totally defenseless, easy pickings for this mystic warrior. So she said a little counter-prayer. "Typhojem, protect me," she whispered... and it seemed to work. A look of frustration crossed the Jedi's face, and the rifle remained whole, functional, and in Eva's grasp.

In that moment, a prayer of thanks suddenly dying on her lips, Evalina Betrik discovered that things could always get worse.

Two golden blades cut through the gloom of the Temple-Library, and Eva's heart dropped like a stone. The young corporal had assumed that the Jedi's choice of weapon, a simple but effective staff, had been in place of her order's iconic laser swords... but now it seemed that her foe just hadn't thought she would even need her lightsabers against the SICA squad. Eva was momentarily gratified that she had proven worth hacking up with such a weapon, followed immediately by a feeling of utter terror. She had seen the aftermath of Jedi attacks, seen the bodies of fellow troopers sliced to pieces, the wounds immediately cauterized by the terrible heat of the weapons.

She'd never been in the habit of thinking about how she wanted to die, but this definitely wouldn't have made the list.

The Jedi swung at the young corporal's blaster, trying to cut through the weapon and disarm her. Eva scrambled back, trying to evade the strike... and it didn't connect, though not because of anything the trooper had done. The Jedi was off-balance, her wounds clearly catching up with her, dragging her down and sapping her energy. For a moment she actually fell, and Eva was able to take the opportunity to scramble further back, out of her reach. The Jedi was breathing hard and bleeding freely, her lightsabers held in a guard position, clearly struggling just to stay standing. And she... was she crying? She was. The young corporal felt a pang of unwanted empathy.

All at once, Eva found herself standing at the edge of a metaphorical precipice. She might, might, be able to actually kill this Jedi. It would not be her first kill - that honor went to some trooper she'd dropped on Muunilist, someone she'd shot from afar in a firefight without ever seeing his face - but it would definitely be her most personal. She would have to look this other woman in the eyes while she did it, and would have to somehow get past those gleaming golden blades. But it'd be worth it. She be decorated and promoted, made a sergeant with a squad of her own. And Kerelenko, poor big, dopey Kerelenko with his dad jokes and his magnificent mustache, would be avenged.

But this woman, thrust out onto a battlefield too young, alone and overwhelmed... they weren't so different.

The Jedi took a step forward, and Eva gasped involuntarily. Despite her clear injuries and exhaustion, the other woman was continuing her pursuit, evidently determined to finish off the last member of the SICA squad. Well, that made her decision easy; the young corporal fell back on survival mode, tossing all moral concerns aside. She could cry in the 'fresher later, but only if she survived the next few seconds. At this range against a lightsaber, she wasn't sure how much help her rifle would be; back on Muunilist she had seen Jedi deflect blaster bolts right back into the troopers that had fired them, and she really didn't want to get killed by her own blasterfire.

So she did the only thing she could think of. Eva reached down to her belt and pulled her own grenade free, flicking the priming switch. Then she held it in front of her, like a charm or holy symbol to ward off a creature of the night. "S... stop," she told the Jedi, hating how small and frightened she sounded. "It's primed. If you kill me, or if you try to take it away with your powers, it'll go off the second I stop holding the switch down. At this range we'll both be dead." It was her last gambit, her only chance when all her other weapons were so pathetic in the face of those gleaming golden blades. She had no idea how the Jedi would react to her ultimatum.

She just hoped the other woman wouldn't still find some easy way to murder her.

 

[Teica Giraan]

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

​

Grief flooded to her in those moments. The sights, smells, sounds all dimmed, muffled, and absent from the likes of her senses. Teica's cane slipped from her own grip, clanging to the floor only for the sith's voice to silence it.

You just killed two of your people, Captain. I hope you weren't expecting to decieve me so easily.

Petty Officer Kaldol Igera.. Twenty Nine years old, and due to have been promoted after the attack on Krayiss.

Lieutenant Casta Jylib. The security chief. Thirty One years old since her birthday the previous month.

Both lay dead on the bridge's floor, corpses pale and devoid of any sign of life. Both were preventable casualties, losses who's blood had stained her hands. But there wasn't time to give in to her own human nature, no matter how much her own mind begged to. The Epilogue now shook, as the Sith forced the vessel's engines into submission, warped and modified propulsion to send the missile cruiser hurling for Krayiss below.

So many dead, and for nothing.

Teica hit the ground, along with those who remained on the bridge. The inertial dampers struggled, rushing to cancel out as many G-forces as possible while the crew continued to be pressed into the flooring.

You will cease your attempts at sabotage, or I will be forced to take steps. The longer you make me do this myself, the more of your crew will die to aid me.

"You twisted monst-" She hit the ground once more, hands rushing forward to clutch her knee, before ultimately collapsing and letting the throbbing pain continue.

Teica yelped at first, eyes forcing themselves closed, while the world turned black. Cold, alone. She awoke once more, once more in a twisted manifestation of the bridge, Once more surrounded by the dead. She shook her head once, twice, a third time, eyes clamping down rapidly and desperately until the sight faded from view.

Two minutes.

Her eyes finally opened to the sight of the bridge she knew, the smells of blood a distant memory, though the two corpses stayed in full view. They now turned away, to the head of the bridge, and to the sith at its center. Pure power seemed to shoot from Nyxeris' fingertips, engulfing the entire cruiser as if it were a simple effort. But it wasn't. Exertion, Teica saw, slowly whittling at the intruder's strength, demanding more life force than could be naturally provided; Weakened in a display of strength.

Weakened, and Vulnerable.

It was then that the commander's hands inched their way toward the fallen security officer, for the sidearm almost freshly having been drawn. Her hands clamped around the light blaster's grip, and switched into a new gear- the heaviest stun setting available. Another recoil, as an unseen sith vessel fired even further at the Epilogue and exemplified by the continous acceleration under the intruder's control, nearly threw it from her hands, and most definitely broke her aim.

But Teica recovered, brought the barrel to aim for the sith's back, released the safety trigger,

And took the shot.

 

[Dagon Kaze]

THE NEW JEDI ORDER
OBJECTIVE I | LIBRARY TEMPLE | THE STYGIAN CAMPAIGN
A WATCHFUL PROTECTOR

RETURN OF THE JEDI

With each spat between cousins, Dagon felt his guts tighten more and more into a gordian knot; concern, accompanied with the increasing tension between Yula and Zaavik, built up to his throat and clawed at his mind. Agonizing memories resurfaced from Ossus, a deja vu - where Zaavik took the place of Dagon's brother and Yula took that of the raven-haired Jedi's deceased lover Ayana. Clear as if it had happened yesterday, nay, as if it was happening now, Dagon recalled his blade plunging inadvertently through Ayana's chest. Her eyes locked with his, eyes full of love and care even when her life had departed right through them. The dread of loss crippled him in place, ensnaring his reactions and allowing Zaavik to engage Yula in a blur.

Rattled, Dagon shifted into his familiar stance of Niman and engaged together with Yula into a counter-attack against her cousin. He would take a position with the aim to distract him, while Yula swept at his tendon. In the heat of the battle, the raven-haired Jedi finally began to find his resolve again until his eyes widened in horror and his determination wavered as Viers' voice echoed through the Force.

I'm sorry, Dagon​

The sudden halt of his movements left him wide open for attack.

Fear clawed deep into his heart, seizing his mind and suffocating his soul. He had wanted to save everyone - Aeric, Kaska, Ayana, Yula, Viers; but in the end, he could save no one.

Not even himself.

The familiar presence of his father sprung to life, fueled by the dark side energies permeating the air.

Alone. We are stronger.

Let them die.

​

ALLIES | GA | Yula Perl | Bernard | Viers Connory
ENEMIES | Zaavik Perl | [ENGAGING | TSE

 

[Viers Connory]

//: Objective //: Face the Nightmares //:
//: Target //: Eva Betrik //:
//: Allies //: None //:
//: These Final Words //:

Fear bled into the Force; it was vicious and tainted. Viers could taste it on the back of her throat, and it made her stop. Standing only a few feet away from the frightened girl soldier, the Monk paused. Amber eyes gazed through the curtain of blood-soaked brown hair, focused on the grenade in the trooper’s hand. Neither of them wanted to die; both of them feared death and the finality of it. And yet, they found themselves on the battlefield staring what they feared the most right in the face.

Thick silence lingered in the air after Eva spoke, her words echoing through and finally drowned out by combat that happened further past them.

Viers knew she could easily step forward, slice through the woman, and with the aid of the Force, protect herself enough from the blast to survive. But that would kill the trooper, adding weight to the Monk’s already heavy soul. Finally, the lightsaber hum stopped, the blades retracting into their core, and the hilts dropped—a sign of understanding and surrender.

Breaking the silence, Viers spoke, her voice cracking and was just as frightened and small as the girl before her. “W-What was...What was their name?” Her eyes lingered for just a moment and then looked towards where she had killed the first SICA trooper. She waited and glanced back at Eva - the grenade still in her hand, then collapsed to her knees. Her body could no longer continue; the concentration required for her to maintain the Force Body was starting to waver as she whimpered, feeling the waves of pain pulse through her small frame.

She might die; the lack of oxygen from her two punctured lungs wasn’t helping. Viers needed to hear the name of the person she had murdered; it was the only way that if she survived, she could seek atonement. They were innocent in her war and shouldn’t have perished by her hand. Eyes continued to linger on Eva’s face, memorizing the curve and shape of her jaw, the color of her eyes and hair. Everything Viers wanted to remember, even if this was the only time she’d see her opponent’s face.

“I’m sorry.” her words gargled as she choked on the blood collecting in the back of her throat. She leaned forward, coughing and splattering more red ichor onto the temple’s floor. Another whine and whimper as she broke down; this was it.

Viers let herself remember, her mind wandered to Jakku, meeting Thalia and Kaska, running along the AT-AT’s as they caravaned to the Enclave. She remembered drinking tea with a bandaged Dagon, a wise Viera, and an intriguing Violet. Even the painful memories filled her mind, placing Kaska in the bacta tank and the picture she had drawn of her, seeing Dagon worried about his friends and not being able to console him. A small smile pulled at her lips as she thought of Violet and the flask - the first time she tasted alcohol.

One memory broke her heart further, as she could still smell the sand and sweat from his back, the delicate scent of sandalwood lingering at the tip of her senses. Her life was so short, but in a sense fulfilling in its own right. If this was the end, she wished she could say her biggest regret was killing the trooper, but never revealing her feelings to Dagon hurt far worse. Maybe it was for the better; if her life was destined to end this way and by the hands of this girl soldier, she would rather keep her secret. If only to spare Dagon Kaze the pain.

“Forgive me,” she asked weakly, “Please.” ​

 

[Starlin Rand]

​

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

The Amalgam continued to run her mouth. Starlin wasn’t particularly listening anymore. He made another move as she was talking, a two-strike with each of his blades then a third followed by a thrust under her left arm, fully expecting her to block each blow.

As the atmosphere inside the archives grew stifling with the miasmic power of the Dark Side, he was already on the defensive, radiating Light. He had expected her to match him in trickery and deceptive underhandedness.

What he did not expect was for it to feel like dozens of Force Users were pressing down on him all at once.

The darkness surrounded him completely, battering his shields. These many figures appeared to him as ghostly limbs tearing their way through the barrier of light he projected, fingers clawing at his face, reaching for his eyes—

Syd!

Starlin felt a strange popping sensation in his right eye, followed by loss of vision. His left eye remained undamaged, saved by the second wind offered by his master from across the stars, but…

Warm liquid trickled down his right cheek, too thick to be tears or sweat. Deep down he knew what it was, what it had to be—a slimy mixture of blood and vitreous gel from his burst eyeball—but his mind was unwilling to accept that he was now permanently half-blind.

SYD!

Robbed of depth perception and in shock, Starlin pressed forward, permitting his master to use him as a conduit for her terrible, awesome power, even as he channeled his own energies, blasting them at the Amalgam at full strength. What happened next was hard to explain—his body began to glow blindingly bright, fused with the Force.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

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

---

---

​

Lingering in his backswing, Zaavik regarded Yula's spread-eagle with disgust. After resetting his stance, he walked a wide, half-circle around where she rose from collapse. A vulturous creature mirrored his movement overhead, completing the ring, portending death. Another appeared as Yula moved. The two kin walked in opposition of one another, creating a round circuit in the dirt.

A sensation began to dull itself in the white-noise of his surroundings. A moment of examination directed his attention to her saber. It felt no warmer than a waning candle in his extrasensory awareness. Zaavik's eyes flickered to saber to Yula, back, then back again. A sneer crept across his face, outing him as in the know about the modified lethality.

Coward.

Lethal verdance that extended from his fist began to brighten, drone louder, thicken slightly. His thumb rolled over the knob until it wouldn't move anymore, increasing the intensity of the emitter to a maximum. With a flourish, the blade hummed loudly, taunting Yula with an opposing intention.

“You think I care about there being credits involved?!”

"I'm finding it hard to put it past you. Explains why you're here, anyway."

"What happened to you, Zaav? What turned you into such an idiot?”

"What can I say?" he taunted. "Mom always said I took too much after you." It was a good thing his Aunt wasn't around to hear him say that. She'd probably think he was cursing her rather than showing any glimmer of acceptance to her maternal treatment.

She'd be right.

A pang of danger thrust itself into Zaavik's mind. Kaze's approach was scouted by his peripheral. Images of a hand-switch flashed behind his eyes. You'll have to do better than that, Padawan Kaze. Sudden force of will dictated Zaavik's body to move against gravity. His feet lifted off the ground as he tilted horizontally, slipping between Dagon's distraction and Yula's sudden southpaw.

"Stay out of this, Dagon!" he shouted mid-oscillation. Spinning like a drillbit, Zaavik remained horizontal, strafing across the air unnaturally. He contorted on landing, sending all of his momentum into a mule-kick toward the frozen interloper. Energy emitted from the bottom of his foot at the apex of his strike, sending a gust of Force with the intent to shove him away.

Zaavik dove, tumbling beneath a subsequent strike. Rising, he kicked at the ground, sending a wave of dirt forward. He took his opportunity to strike. Pulling a feint of his own, he came down from overhead, released the hilt to roll across his palm. Metal fingers compensated for a reverse grip once caught. Trajectory changed from overhead to horizontal, striking from the right.

Blue gave way to a magmatic bloom around his pupils.

Eye contact reinforced his intention as the strike aimed for familicide. Somewhere deep in his psyche, what was left of his conscience preemptively added kinslaying to its growing list of repugnancies.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Pretty Dangerous Faces //:
//: Voyana //:

​

"Ah man, I'm sorry." Allyson's voice playfully mocked as the scoundrel explained the precious value of her blaster. "I didn't even realize, special edition, wow." She pushed her knee a little harder into the woman's lower back, hoping it made her stop moving like a bit of worm on a hook.

Allyson winced, looking pained as she heard the curses from the girl and chuckled. "You must have eaten a lot of soap as a kid with a mouth like that." Another light-hearted chuckle as she leaned off Voyana but kept the blaster to her head. "Ah, get up; I'm starting to feel bad making you eat dirt." A fist full of the girl's clothing, Allyson lifted her up and pressed her into the ship she caught her with.

The gun never leaving the thief's face, Allyson continued to smile. "Alright, let's try this again. Who are you? Who do you work for? Why are you after this ship?" Shrugging, the Corellian nodded towards the broken parts of the blaster, "You cooperate, and I'll put your toy gun back together."

She had no intentions of putting the blaster together, but maybe the promise would be enough to get some valuable information from the girl. Allyson tilted her head slightly to the side as she put a little weight on her words. "Though, if you decide to lie - I can tell, and well, I might be going home with a new blaster tonight and whatever is in your pockets doing my dry cleaning. So let's just be straight with each other, kapeesh?"​

 

[Kolson Vrask]

G R U N G E
TASK UNIT ALPHA | VANDAL SQUAD
FIRESTARTER
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
Storm Recon UCP | SRK-65 Service Rifle | DSP-61x Hybrid Pistol | Cradle | Grenades x

COME ON DOWN
KRAYISS '65

OPERATION PERSEUS
​

Should've known better. Not that he could have ever well and truly been surprised in the slightest. Sith knew their abilities or at the very least, they thought they did. They knew well that the large scale of fleet on fleet or army on army warfare did not tip the scales in their favor. That was the power of the mortal there. The brotherhood, the cohesion.

Here, in these closed atmospheres of battle...that was where the Sith ruled. These confined domains of destruction. The Vong certainly added to their lethality. Ever the unfamiliar foe, the Vong were impossible to master battle against. The Jedi could not conquer them. The Empire could not conquer them. The Storm Commandos fared little better.

One...two...three flatlines indicated on his heads up display, a red 'X' and crimson bar enveloping their names and designation numbers in the corner of his view as they were snuffed out in infernal fury. The Sith was able to wield fire, like the gods of old Mori whipped her flame with a detached apathy for the mortal lives she snuffed out.

Djorn continued to spout his fanaticism. He could never tell with that man. If it was genuine or just a means of coping with the carnage, detaching worth from himself and those around him and more importantly, the enemy.

Grunge fired another burst from service rifle before he pulled the fore grip into the inside of his left elbow, swinging it to the side of his body as it was fixed to the sling before drawing his pistol in a seamless motion.

He flipped the firing option to the disruptor grade tibanna, peered down the sights and fired a burst into the chest of the nearest vong warrior before scrambling for cover. Abandoning his second hand's hold on the grip he swapped the missile selector on his vambrace to cryo before firing it out toward Mori, accompanying the attack with another burst from his pistol.

<"Focus the Sith! These xenos will fold up 'soon as she's downed. Whatever ritual bantha sh*t they're concocting here, it ends now!"> Grunge yelled out.

WHO DARES WINS
Djorn Bline

MEDUSA
Darth Mori ​

 

[Maestus]

Via made her way to an empty seat and settled into it. Force Stealth in full effect still, she would be relying on her own powers of subtlety, persuasion and manipulation for this meeting. Pausing a moment to set out a datapad, she tapped a few times then looked to Dalton Crowder and Faith Organa .

From what I have been able to gather and learn, the Brotherhood of the Maw rely on sheer numbers and savagery. Their building of the superweapon that destroyed Csilla was completely unexpected and, quite frankly in my opinion, places them at the top of the list as far as galactic threats.

She glanced down to the datapad, scrolling for a second then looked back up. She carefully considered her next words before speaking.

I have been able to learn very little about this, owing to the secretive nature behind them. They seem to be....Lead or at least guided by a group called the Heathen Priests. As to whether or not these priests are Force users is unknown. They could just be religious zealots that use fiery speeches to motivate the masses. Either way, they are extremely effective.

She leaned back in her chair with a soft sigh, folding her hands in her lap. She was quiet, contemplative for several seconds.

The only language they seem to understand is brute force. And if the reports I'm receiving about Felucia and Thule are correct, they will strike at anyone, be they Sith, Jedi or regular citizens. Predicting their next attack is nigh impossible, they seem to be all over the galaxy, appearing out of nowhere.

She leaned forward back onto the table. Her hands clenching into fists as she took a deep breath.

Would it be possible to place someone within the Brotherhood? For purposes of gathering forward intelligence on upcoming attacks. AS well as advance warning, when and if they begin building another superweapon.

She leaned back then, and regarded her colleagues. She silently reminded herself to temper her enthusiasm with caution. She must tread carefully, lest all plans be found out and overcome.

 

[Eva Betrik]

Objective I - Defend the Temple
​

Location: Krayiss II, Temple-Library
Allies: TSE
Foes: GA | Viers Connory

It was a pathetic defense, the grenade held out in front of her, and Eva knew it. Half a dozen blaster hits and more hadn't been enough to bring the Jedi down; who was to say that this little weapon would? Next to those golden lightsabers, glowing symbols of her mystical order's might, it seemed incredibly puny and mundane. It would take Eva's arm off, along with most of her face and torso, if it went off at this range... but that could easily be all that it accomplished. Her hand shook as she held it out in front of her, thumb pressed firmly down on the dead man's switch, a name that was all too likely to become very apt in the next several seconds. At least she'd die on her own terms, she supposed.

But to the young corporal's astonishment, the Jedi turned off her lightsabers.

Eva wasn't sure why she'd done it. The young woman's strength was clearly flagging, but she almost certainly had power enough to dice the SICA trooper to ribbons and endure the resulting blast. If she'd done that, she'd have won. No one in this corridor would have been left with the strength to oppose her. She could have finished infiltrating the temple, well behind the lines of the rest of the defenders, or fallen back to her side's lines to get medical attention; she obviously needed it. Instead she was standing down, leaving them both at an impasse. The cut in Eva's scalp throbbed as her mind spun. What the feth did she do now? Could she get herself and her squad out of this alive somehow?

“W-What was...What was their name?” The question took the young corporal completely off-guard. She stared hard at the Jedi, eyes narrowing. The feth do you care? she wanted to ask in reply, screaming in the young woman's face. But that wouldn't have been fair, because Eva could somehow tell that the Jedi did care, though she couldn't imagine why. Kerelenko had meant something to her because she'd known him. She'd eaten beside him in the mess hall, trained with him at the shooting range, shared a squad on Vjun. She'd teased him for the hour he spent trimming and waxing his mustache, and had been mocked as little miss sergeant's pet in return. They'd laughed together.

The Jedi had never met him before, because that was how war worked. You knew your own side. You loved and valued the people you fought with. And you tried not to think about the fact that the other side was also full of people who loved and valued each other, and that every one of them you killed was a knife through the heart of friends and family who didn't deserve it. The SICA morale officers reminded them over and over again that they were the last line of defense against the chaos and disorder of the wider galaxy; did the Jedi have assigned propagandists, too, people who spun them a far different narrative? Eva assumed so. But now the Jedi wanted to know the man she'd killed.

She wanted to share in mourning him, a man she'd never known until she ended his life... and Eva wasn't sure what to do.

The Jedi fell to her knees with a whimper, and Eva jumped back, eyes wide, expecting some fresh mystical attack. The grenade wobbled dangerously in her unsteady hand. But it didn't seem to be a trick. The young woman's many blaster wounds were suddenly catching up with her; apparently she could only delay the pain and damage, not ignore it entirely. After Eva had dropped an entire skiff on one of the first Jedi she'd ever faced and seen her somehow survive, she'd almost believed that the Force-knights were invincible. Apparently not, though. Choking on her own blood, the Jedi managed to gasp out two words, words that struck at Eva to the core. “I’m sorry.”

No, Eva thought, watching the young woman struggle to breathe. No, you don't get to do that. This isn't how this works. You hate me, and I hate you, and that's why I tried to kill you and you killed my friend. This is war, and we're soldiers on opposite sides, and there's no room for empathy or regret or forgiveness. She was suddenly angry, so, so angry. She almost wished the Jedi had plunged those lightsabers into her heart, because then at least the galaxy would make sense again. “Forgive me, please,” the Jedi said, and Eva could have slapped her. She disengaged the dead man's switch and stepped forward, eyes locked on a young woman who, in another life, might had been her.

"I don't fething understand you," the young corporal shouted, her voice echoing up and down the temple-library's cold halls. She was crying now, sobbing even, but she didn't care. "You killed him, and now you're sorry? Well, I'm sorry too, because he was a good man. But this is what you're supposed to fething do." She was screaming right in the Jedi's face, feeling her enemy's gasping breaths flutter against her skin. "This is war, and killing each other is what we were all trained to do, and we don't say sorry afterwards because it doesn't make anything better or bring anyone back. I wouldn't have been sorry if I'd killed you."

If. Feth it, the Jedi was getting in her head. She could still kill this wounded woman; she looked like she might die on her own at this point, and a blaster bolt to the back of the head might just speed her way. But everything inside Eva was wound up so tight she thought she might burst into a million pieces, and it all only got tighter when she tried to think about the right thing to do. "Why'd you have to make it like this?" Eva sobbed, stepping back only to slide down the wall of the temple in a heap. In just a few sentences, a few confusing sentences that had muddled everything, the Jedi had made herself into a person instead of a military target.

And for all her training, and all the morale officers' speeches, Eva wasn't sure she could kill a person.

So what did she do? Did she try to bring the Jedi in alive? She'd get that commendation and promotion still, maybe even more than for just a kill. But she knew what the Sith and their Inquisitors would do to a captured Jedi, and it was worse than letting her bleed out in this hallway. She couldn't bring herself to believe that this young woman deserved that. But what would happen if she just let the Jedi go? If anyone ever found out what she'd done, she would have to answer to the Saaraishash again, and they would be less forgiving this time. There were no good answers here, no solutions that didn't leave her hating the galaxy and the war and herself.

"His name was Aidan Kerelenko," Eva finally said. "He was my friend."