Invasion Schism's Dawn // NIO invasion of TSE controlled Mygeeto and Muunilinst

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective: Hold until the opportune moment, defeat Imperial Warlord Zovesa and Vaulkhar (soon)
Location: Bridge One
Allies: Aerarii Tithe Madelyn Lowe Sila Darth Ophidia Darth Argentum Jyon Hlervu Lirka Ka Lark Miko Evans Darth Kados Amur Vaylin
Other Enemies: Darth Bellum Darth Kentarch Avernus Gat Tambor Kyrel Ren Ignatius Cara Dalgas Tarrik Kestis Jekadius Lawson Hunter Blackburn

Equipment: Weapons in Signature, stylized Medhir Armor
Forces: 173rd "Black Talons" Legion, equipped with AI-331m's, Shields, and Alpine Armor, commanded by Strategos Ranulph Tarkin

The three conjured shards of ice gave the Dark Councilor some useful information, her thrust towards the right arm also gave her valuable insight. The enemy commander's armor was tough enough to take the spear with no penetration, although kinetic force was likely transferred in an unpleasant way. Stance was disrupted minutely, but enough. Her opponent was fast, able to get her saber up to cut the second, although it provided a spray of ice that blinded the Chiss for a few moments, enough to give her own lightsaber attack a chance to slip in.

Right arm... cybernetic. Interesting. A potential weakness that could be exploited... vambrace cortosis or phrik to prevent damage. Positioning would be key.

The vambrace batted her lightsaber stroke aside wide, the Chiss commander's other hand coming up quickly, wrist extended, a tube pointing directly at the helmeted face of the Lady of Secrets. The orange glow of activation of the mounted flamethrower was the only warning that was provided by the material world, her Force senses were already tingling with danger sense but that was nothing new in a battle. Senses and reflexes were hyper-attuned, it was made Force users such devastating forces against non-Force users in combat. To have an opponent able to predict your actions, to dodge your attacks, it took strength of will to hide your intentions enough to not trigger a reaction.

The Chiss had used her enhanced speed to position her flamethrower, her lightsaber too out of position. Flames erupted, coating the Dark Councilor in a torrent of heat. It was one of the few times she was thankful she had worn her helmet and the Medhir armor being developed for her personal Legion. The command cape she wore was reduced to cinders in moments, the air and ice hissing as it evaporated around her. Her visor instantly polarized, but even still, she would need to rely on the Force until her vision was less spotty again.

Fire, as a weapon, were also a double sided sword. Sure, you would consume your enemy in flames, but you also couldn't see them for a few moments. Even as the flames rushed over and around her, scorching her armor, burning her cape, sweat breaking out as the heat penetrated even her armor's high protectiveness, Taeli was not idle. In a quick rush of Force energy, she would crush the emitter nozzle for the flamethrower, her lightsaber coming back into position.

Steam rose from her form, small puffs as snow and ice impacted on the quick heated surfaces. If the Chiss could read body language, Taeli would be displaying all the telltale signs of irritation. And to show just how irritated the Sith sorceress was... her senses tingled as that other dark presence she had felt, the wayward son, neared. There would be little time before he arrived.

Taeli started a Makashi routine of quick lightsaber strikes and feints at her opponent, up, down, towards the left thigh, back to the right arm, a quick movement towards the head before her free hand rose to chest level and a torrent of Force Lightning erupted and aimed for the Chiss's torso.

 

[Tessa]

Location: Streets of Harnaidan
Objective: Link Up w/ Feral
Allies: @Sturit Goan
Enemies: Open
Thematic Music: Danger - 21:10
Gear: Body | Armor in Digital Urban Camo | Pistol | Knife | 1 Smart Grenade

<<"Shatter Actual this is Feral Actual. Marking position on holomap. You're only a few blocks away. We'll be turning the corner, then proceeding east, then north. Over.">>

Tessa pulled out her little holoprojector and consulted the map to determine if what Feral said was accurate. She noted that it was, and determined the quickest route to their position before responding.

<"Copy, Feral Actual. Proceeding to your pos. Over.">

Taking note of their precise location, and the indicated direction of travel, she processed the proper intercept point. Feral was an armored unit, so at the very least they would find some sort of shelter when they reached them, and a medic that could tend to Lenses wounds. The best she could tell he was hanging on by threads, but would be alright if he got medical attention in short order. That meant she needed to stop screwing around in the alley, planning their movements, and actually get on with it.

Poking her head out from behind the dumpster, she scanned the rest of the alley and determined it was clear. Then she scanned above them, just to be sure, and determined the same. Hoisting Lenses onto her shoulder, and holding him there with one arm, she kept her blaster hand free and ready to lance anyone that got in her way. Given enemy strength in the city it was a wonder they hadn't been followed into the alley. The street in the immediate vicinity had been clear, but that didn't mean the entirety of it had been. Surely someone would have seen them jump free and pursued them. Assuming they weren't otherwise engaged. Or entrenched.

She made her way to the other end of the alley and hugged the wall of the building closest to the center of the city, peering first out in the direction of the city perimeter, and then poking her head out to look the other way. Towards the perimeter was clear, but there was a column of enemy troops hugging both sides of the street to the north and making their way towards the city perimeter. Likely they were reinforcements send to man the frontlines. Elsewise they were searching the interior for squads like her own that had infiltrated deeper in to take important targets.

They were going to have to risk it.

Sticking the handle of her blaster into her exposed mouth, since her helmet was shot to poodoo, she reached for her last remaining grenade. She figured it would give them enough time to cross the street without getting shot up. Priming it, she stepped into the street and chucked it as far as she could before stepping back into cover. Once she heard it start shooting, she bolted without even looking. Several shots whizzed past her from those not immediately affected by the grenade attacking their position, but that stopped when it exploded, the sonic weaponry rendering them unable to continue firing on her and Lenses.

Safely in the next alley, she continued across to the road on the opposite side and checked her map again. Feral was one street over and proceeding unabated.

<"Feral Actual this is Shatter Actual. Approaching your pos now. Have one in need of a corpsman. Over.">

She checked the street and found it clear before running across again and proceeding down the street where she waited on the street corner beneath a covered awning that advertised some sort of snack food that looked absolutely atrocious. She could hear the approaching tanks, so she turned the corner and started making her way towards them, Lenses slung over her shoulder. It was obvious she had taken a beating, as her armor was broken in several places and pock-marked in others, but there was enough of it to tell she was one of them, so at least she wouldn't get shot.

Hopefully.

 

[Darth Argentum]

Objective 2, SIBC Vaults
Enemies: Avernus Gat Tambor
Allies: Aerarii Tithe Madelyn Lowe

The Muun made his way up a side-passage quietly as he could. He could feel the distinctive aura of the Dark Side ahead now. It glowed like a beacon within his consciousness. The power was strong.

Indeed, stronger than his own...for now.

He knew he had to be extremely careful. There would be no chance of overpowering this one. That meant he needed to strike out from the shadows. To eliminate this enemy when their attention was elsewhere.

Now he heard the sound of multiple blasters firing through the walls. There was also the distinct hum and sizzle of a lightsaber slapping aside energy rounds. It made him smile. The enemy had been engaged.

Dansk knew he needed to act quickly. This foe wouldn't be held up very long by two squads of cannon fodder. But it provided an excellent temporary distraction. Maro was going to add to that even more.

His smile slipped as he stopped before a sealed side door. Just beyond the sounds of the confrontation rang loudly. A look of concentration played on his features. Long fingers came up and began to deftly weave strange patterns in the air.

Around him the purest energies of the Dark Side began to gather. To anyone attuned, it would resemble a swirling fog of midnight pooling. Those not attuned would feel a terrible malevolence gathering. So too would his foe if not for the fact he was being assailed.

The intruder would see yet more soldiers. But they'd seem to come from every corner. And they'd take on demonic, fearsome aspects. Unnatural traits as if they'd been twisted by powerful Sith alchemy.

Terrible, snarling maws dripping blood. Talons in place of fingers and toes. Glowing red eyes like the heart of a volcano. Enough to send any typical being into a frenzy of terror.

He cast these illusions out and around the enemy now. The he drew his lightsaber's long, ridged hilt and readied himself. His familiar scowl had returned as he opened the side door with the press of a button. He emerged into the next corridor just behind the other Dark Side user.

There he was, a Sith Pureblood male dressed extravagantly and wielding a purple-bladed weapon. It too was grandiose in aspect. But what caught Maro's eye was it's curved shape. It spoke of it's owner being a duelist.

All this the Muun noted as he'd begun forward. He'd have to make this quick with the blaster bolts thick in the air. The walls provided protection so he couldn't step out into the open. He would skewer his opponent from behind with a quick thrust....

As he drew in for what he though it be the killing blow, his pupils had dilated. Time seemed to slow in his mind as he position his comparatively simple weapon. His right thumb came down on the activator and his crimson blade came to life as he thrust out at the Pureblood's back....

 

[Amur]

Post: 6
Location: Mygeeto, Southern Mesas, Bridge 2
Faction Objective: 1
Allies: Darth Kados Jyon Hlervu | TSE Forces
Enemies: Darth Bellum Hunter Blackburn Darth Assimilus | NIO Forces
Gear: Listed in Character Bio along with Two Durasteel climbing axes affixed to belt. Boots have been replaced with spiked boots from Alpine Legionnaire Armor
Theme: Alicorn
Immediate Objective: Fight

A brief glint of surprise flowed through the sith realizing now that just about every crevice in that thing’s armor could be a port for an attack from the Gen’dai’s muscle fiber. A new bit of information to catalog away for taking care of her opponent. She needed more than just brute force and a clash of sabers to defeat him. She had mobility on the hulking barbarian but that wouldn’t last long if he just kept coming at her, his healing was also another factor as she saw that while she bought herself time it wasn’t much as the leg was regrowing itself in front of her eyes. She would need to play this fast and quick.

As Rive spoke she was already quickly readying the force for another round of attack though this time going for a different approach. ”I’d love to see you try.” Amur said goading Rive to strike. Hoping he’d take the bait but even if not Amur would still put her plan into motion. Very quickly the air around Amur began to light up as a searing flash of light Exploded from the Sith’s body in front of Rive to hopefully blind him and then immediately afterwards she would take her sole remaining Flash grenade and toss it between her and Rive, anti flash lens and aural dampening from her suit protecting her from the light and noise the thing brought out and hopefully the cacophony of stimuli would overwhelm the Gen’dai for a moment.

She would then do a force assisted leap into the air to get above Rive, the winds and snow trying it damnedest to throw her weight around as she just tried to channel a laser focus on Rive, anticipation fueling her as she awaited for the satisfying sound of plasma piercing durasteel and making contact with Flesh and she began to fall down toward the Gen’dai. She would twist her body during the fall as she aimed to land on his back lightsaber plunging down towards the nape of his neck. If successful she would hold on tightly to his armored back and try to plunge as deep down into his body as she could knowing that it would be essential to have as big of hole possible to work with if she wanted to fulfill the next step of her attack. Never in the Sith’s life had she ever thought she would willingly try to Rodeo a Gen’dai berserker (or perhaps Titan was a better description of Rive) yet here she was.

 

[Darth Quizitus]

Post: 6
Location: Bridge B, Southern Mesas, Mygeeto
Faction Objective: 1
Allies: Amur | Madelyn Lowe | Jyon Hlervu | Aerarii Tithe | Sith Empire forces
Enemies: Imperial Warlord Zovesa | Hunter Blackburn | Darth Bellum | New Imperial Order forces
Gear: Listed in Character Bio
Theme
Immediate Objective: Kill the optimistic soldier

Apparently the soldier ahead of him meant to fight him. Mid smiled with a toothy grin at the buff grunt moving towards him. Mid studied him both physically as well as through the Force. Both were proving to be rather interesting. His armour was good as well as his weapons, but the armament he carried in his hand drew the most curiosity. It was like a blank smudge in a painting, unable to be felt or seen through the Force...which in itself made it easy to follow given the spectacular view around him. there was also a reverberation through the force as if it were trying to get into his mind. However whatever it was seemed to be drowned out by the enigma of a piece of rebar coating itself as well as its user in a type of Force camouflage. Whatever this soldier had on him, it was being neutralized by the very weapon meant to nullify the force.

He came charging at Mid as he kept a steady march. Mid drew a deep breath and waited for him to see what he was planning. He finally raised his arm and Mid, with a flick of his free right hand, summoned a large piece of durasteel lying on the ground in front of him as a shield to absorb the concussive force of the repulsor before launching it at the soldier. He followed it up with a powerful force push that would knock him back several meters, making sure he couldn't get too close if it hit. Mid's calm demeanor was slowly breaking down as he gave his saberstaff a violent twirl and a chuckle rumbled from his throat. If this soldier wanted to get up close and personal, the Pureblood would let him. He hadn't had a good hand-to-hand fight in a long time.

"You are brave, soldier! I can respect that. What is your name?" he called out to him as he approached, his lightsaber still at the ready as well as his senses. If this soldier wanted to keep coming at him, he'd be ready for him or any tricks.

As for the soldiers, the cloud was working. With no solid target, the soldiers targeting the Marines were simply firing blindly. And even if they hit, the shots would probably be all but useless by the time they reached their target. But the Marines wouldn't have long. The winds howling around them were quickly blowing the aerosol away and would soon reveal their position if they didn't get to cover quickly.

 

[Vallaro Kindall]

Navi [Version 10.0.18363.752]
(c) Locke and Key Mechanics. All rights reserved.

C:\Vallaro\Mission\Allies> Lord Venari Leon Amun
C:\Vallaro\Mission\Enemies> Ryv Lucien Dooku Dorian Sicarrio
C:\Vallaro\Mission\Gear> in bio
Theme

---

Excitement overcame the hunter’s senses as he fell. A lifetime of bloodshed had nurtured darkness within him. Every bounty hunter enjoyed their work, this much was true. But for Vallaro it was more, a call, a lusting, a need. Desire roiled within him. His prey was close and like a shark after the scent of blood, he was on the attack. Instincts surged, training and conditioning took the helm as violence and pleasure grew ever closer. War bred darkness most heinous and cruel and the hunter embraced it with every fiber of his being. After all, pleasure is sweetest when it’s paid for by another’s pain.

A wave of force erupted from below him, my mystical emanation of his opponent’s intent. Dust lined the silhouette of the concussive blast granting the hunter a split second to react. Rockets flared; Dodging was out of the question leaving the hunter with a single choice: ride the wave. The energy wave washed over him engulfing and carrying the hunter violently through the air. Vallaro tumbling and spun. The periodic firing of rockets his only guide as he avoided collision with the wall. Regaining control and imparted with the wave’s momentum he turned a wide arch in the air. “Yes! No more running!” The hunter exclaimed as he weaved between bridges and fed a fresh magazine to his smg. “NOW LET ME SEE YOU BLOCK THESE!”

Detonite rounds rained down on the shielded Jedi from above. An explosive hailstorm laced with murderous intent. The hunter Initiated a flip and burn while tossing another shiva knife as his prey. Overwhelming force was the play, Vallaro hadn’t stayed alive this long by giving force users the time to breathe. His target was a shield and it was Vallaro’s job to become a spear, to run him through and leave nothing behind. Vallaro came to a momentary stop against the wall of the building before jumping off and descending toward the ground. “What’s your name stranger? I like to label my trophies.” A wide grin crossed his face. In his eyes, a madness burned. One didn’t need to be force sensitive to succumb to darkness, true evil lurks in the hearts of man.

 

[Ellie Mors]

A D E L A I D E

​

Location: Muunilist | Harnaidan City
Objective: Defend Muunilist, Punish Opposition
Allies: The Sith Empire
Enemies: New Imperial Order | Maynard Treicolt & Loske Treicolt
Equipment: Saberstaff

They had their chance. She'd spoke her part, warned them of the folly in their decision to stay and fight - was this what the Jedi were? Warriors bent on suicide, on desperation against odds that were simply too great to overcome? She'd remembered Corvus' stubbornness, that insistence that there had been good in her - but where was she now? Dead. Braith? Gone, perhaps, but she'd never truly gave herself to that spark of light that the Corellian had claimed to have seen in her - how could she, when it had never existed? These two perhaps hated everything she stood for, perhaps there was even validity in their resolve, but she was simply the beast they could not hope to overcome; she had amputated her own wings to show that even in pain it was her choice, through her own strength, as to how it would be delivered and to whom.

No.

They rose, they ignored her warnings - perhaps taking them as taunts, so blinded by their hubris like the entirety of their order. Her serpentine eyes made a momentary glance towards the blonde and to her disembodied wings, wondering if perhaps they thought that they had evened the playing field by simply returning her to as she had been for eons past. She hadn't let the male go unnoticed, keeping careful inventory of him as he held his blade forwards - eyeing the twirl of his blade without the slightest hint of concern for herself. He came first, though the woman followed not shortly thereafter, and Alekto lunged forwards in an assault the moment he'd closed their gap for her. Had he thought she'd stay on the defensive? Had he expected her to let things play his way? No, she snarled audibly at the thought, as she fell into the monstrous form of Juyo.

Darkness flowed through her, fueled by the very death and despair, fear and anger, that had permeated the Sith world from the beginning of the assault - the thick miasma like adrenaline surging through her veins, empowering her in tantalizing ways only an addict could explain. She had turned to the left as the man had approached, clashing the saber she held with her right hand against his, using the sudden pressure from the force he'd exerted against her own to pop her arm back into its shoulder socket with a satisfying, if not sickening, plop. He had tried to angle his saber downwards it appeared, but she stood nearly a full head above him at 200 centimeters to his 178, or six feet and two inches to his five feet and ten, so his attempt at scalping her were fruitless from the start. It wasn't long into their momentary clash that the blonde had entered the fray, moving through the air with what perhaps could have been a well placed kick had the Sith not twisted her weight into the man's saber while she allowed her blade to deactivated - the rotation of her body carrying the saber in her left hand into an immediate collision course with his through force-empowered agility.

Still she took the blow to the chest, which admittedly forced the wind from her lungs, and she stumbled back several steps as the Jedi came down with the swing of her lightsaber while her own right hand swung up and reactivated the blade of her saber to meet with hers. "You're better than he is, stronger." She grunted, putting her weight into the clash of their blades as she brought her left hand towards her right to anchor the base of its hilt back into place with the one she held with her right. "You could have came alone." Playing the facade of a villain caught off of their guard, her expression shifting towards vulnerability. "But you're afraid - for him." She sneered, switching off the blade of the left side of her newly reunited saberstaff as she released it from the grip of her left hand to free herself for another vector of attack - one which was quickly exploited as lightning erupted from the tips of her scale-covered fingers.

"You are why he is weak."

 

[Lark]

​

Location: Mygeeto
Allies: TSE Taeli Raaf Aerarii Tithe Madelyn Lowe Sila Darth Ophidia Darth Argentum Jyon Hlervu Lirka Ka Miko Evans Darth Kados Amur Vaylin
Enemies: NIO Jekadius Lawson Darth Bellum Vaulkhar Imperial Warlord Zovesa Darth Kentarch Avernus Gat Tambor Kyrel Ren Ignatius Cara Dalgas Tarrik Kestis Hunter Blackburn

​

Lark's deceitful ploy worked, as the wave of snow covered Lawson Lark could sense that his attack at least shed a bit of blood. It wouldn't even cripple the soldier, but sometimes a wound would cause a mental toll more than a physical one. Perhaps this sole scratch wouldn't yet do the trick, but leaving scar after scar could slowly deteriorate anyone. Or maybe it would send them into a rage, full of frenzied attacks that were predictable if not much more difficult to avoid. Worthless thoughts, unless he even managed to deal any more blows.

And I'll be crying tears of laughter...

Another strange thought broke his concentration, the most woeful so far. Once again, he couldn't place the origin, but the tone seemed reminiscent of broken hope and lost dreams. As Lark lost control of himself, the thoughts became more potent. Where as the previous messages were relayed only to him, this one seemed as though it was audible to anyone around him. Such horrifying whispers plagued his head, more and more frequently. And strangely enough, he was more and more certain the Necronomicon was only magnifying the effects, not causing them. So what was the root of it all? What was it that caused all of this babel?

A rush of wind brought him back to the present, and he barely raised his sword in time to block Lawson's downward strike. His muscles tensed as he struggled against the weight of the blow, Lark couldn't hold the defensive position for long. He'd have to-

A sudden surge of pain entered his foot, and when he looked down he saw his own dagger sticking out of his boot. Blood pooled from the small suture in the shoe, and his flesh burned as the enchantment did its work. The surprise from the pain made him stagger back, and he succumbed to the strike. Pushing Lawson's blade as far to the side as he could, Lark couldn't stop it from cutting into his arm. It was as though parts of his skin had been peeled off, even more blood dripped down onto his pale hand as he dug the knife out from his foot.

Gasping for air, only dry frost entered his system. The physical pain Lark was able to put behind, essentially becoming numb to it all. But the mental scars still bothered him. He couldn't focus, not with all of these unknown voices haunting his mind. He needed to figure out what was causing them, and how he could put an end to them. Lark sought complete mastery over so many aspects of reality. He could dominate these voices the same as he did anything else. And he found that all of his desires came back to locating one thing.

His dear sister.

These distortions all began when he discovered she was still alive. It was doubtful she herself was causing them, but they wouldn't be resolved until Lark could find her. He knew not what he would do when he did see her once again. But at the moment, that didn't matter. All that mattered was searching every barren crevice, every shallow rupture in the galaxy until he found her.

That wouldn't happen if he died in the cold of Mygeeto.

His calm persona broke, his aura of peace tearfully collapsed as his desperation to preserve his own life for one sole reason consumed him. I just need to find her, Lark's mind cried out to all those around him, as he desperately tried to preserve what little sanity still remained. Where's she gone? It's cold outside, so awfully cold. Where's she run off to, so far away from home?

Lark's own thoughts merged with the whispers, and he took a final sorrowful look at Lawson. Right before a tear fell from his eye, his glare turned ruthless. Unforgiving. Desperate. And from within him erupted a powerful blast of energy that sent snow and the bodies of the NIO soldiers he had already slain soaring backwards. "OUT OF MY WAY!" Lark's scream was bloodcurdling, the nightmarish rage around him was as ferocious as the peace he brokered before was calm. The blizzard seemed to grow even colder, as though it too retreated from his fury.

And through the tempest, one final whisper echoed within the storm.

...if I could see me smile again.

 

[Mazrim Caide/Taim]

The kick sends Caide tumbling over Fn-999, though his armor protected him from most of the impact. As he hits the ground, he sees a glint in the dirt, partially obscured. He quickly grabs it and covers it, pretending to simply get to his hands and knees, coughing up some blood and dirt. This soldier is young. Experienced, sure, but against other regular soldiers. He wasn’t used to this kind of fight, this dirty knockdown style Caide was purposefully employing to get on his nerves. Now he just needed to bait him one more time…

“God you’re pathetic. Serving some splinter order for no other reason than blind obedience. Like a good little dog. Go on boy, do some more tricks for master.”

Tags: FN-999 Cara Dorniarn Irveric Tavlar

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Muunilinst // Harnaidan // JTSP
Maynard Treicolt // Galactic Alliance Rangers - Raider Squadron // Ellie Mors
Shipping up to Boston
​

The room filled itself with a sense of dread. Whatever hate and wretchedness fuelled the Lady of the Sith was an impressive sensation. It permeated from her core so much so that it was noticeable, even on the peripheral. Loske felt it as much as she felt the reverberations from her wrist through to her shoulders at the sizzle of meeting sabers.

Stronger? Beneath her concealed helm, she knitted her brows in protest. How dare she. In The Force, undoubtedly. As a whole? The jury was out. The trials and tribulations she’d faced were par for the course for someone bred to be a soldier --- the real strength was in the core and tenacity to continuously be knocked down, suffer pain after pain and still focus on doing the right thing. That was a brawn she daren’t contest against the Mandalorian. Loske quickly firmed herself no, but didn’t speak out against the Sith while she continued her observation.

If she’d had a choice, she would have done this alone. Not to boast her own prowess, but to keep the danger in a controlled environment and not have split focus. Part of her that wanted to keep Maynard from harm’s way. He likely would have tried to do the same thing - he had a penchant for throwing himself into the fray without hesitation. Fighting him on it would have been, in farm boy idioms, like ploughing the air. So she suggested togetherness as the only alternative before he could disagree. Was that bad? As much as there was symbiotic nature to their relationship, there was also a perilousness to it. Which was the lesser of two evils? Operating independently and not having a hand in the success or failure of the other? Or working side by side?

The latter had been working just fine. And Loske was determined to make sure the mutual victories continued, and persevere to stave off the shared losses.

“His rage at seeing what happened to you. Your concern for him when he threw himself at Tathra over and over again."

This was ludicrous, and in their contest of strength and duelling blades, she guffawed: “Afrai--You don’t even know us.” How could she string these observations out of thin air based on this singular interaction? Perhaps it was true, perhaps he was muddled with her around - but she also gave him a strength.

Stop! Don’t. Don’t listen to her. The Jedi scolded herself. This is a distract---!!

The distraction worked.

Loske’s strength was put into pointing the saberstaff, now only glowing ruby from one end, down to the ground to give her enough of an opening to deliver a kick. That kick might have come, but it wasn’t powerful enough to prevent the onslaught of Force-generated lightning. Her hands were busy, so absorbing it wasn’t an option either. She gasped in surprise at the resurrection of agony and through it, pushed herself to deliver that kick she’d been saving up for. Driving her sole to the woman’s abdomen and separating her lightsaber from it’s tangle and snapping her hands up, temporarily disengaging her blade so she might erect a force barrier. The bubble was not around herself, however - the shimmering orb of energy was projected around the physique of Lady Alekto, so as to entangle the woman in her own electric prison.

“Do you want to keep this between us girls?” Her tone was honeyed through the panting, trying to catch her breath after getting electrocuted again. Her insides were going to be like bacon after all the stims wore off. The kiffar nodded curtly with an explosive huff, and tightened her fingers, as if she were about to make a fist and attempting to contain the bubble even moreso. Applying metaphysical pressure, she reduced it’s surface area and adjusted the sphere into a crescent between herself and The Sith before giving it a powerful push backward to force the Sith woman backward to the edge of the room.

Before charging forward, Loske stole a glance to her side. Maynard had just reinforced the <Again. Together> mantra, but she frowned.

What was the objective here? Were they looking to arrest this woman? Kill her? Convert her?

What was the goal of the tendril-headed temptress? To goad them into separation? Then what? Kill them off? Could Loske save either one of them from that? Did she really want to do this in isolation? Everything she ever told people was that there was power in groups, people had to help one another if they were going to make a difference. If they were going to last. Isolation was not the way to success.

And yet, here she was - considering isolating for the sake of preservation.

And what would she prove? That she was strong enough to do something alone? She hadn’t even seen this woman in action, in her rebirth. This scale-licked creature had literally died and come back to life. It was foolish, she knew that, but she also wanted nothing more than to protect her companion.

It wasn’t that she wanted to prove she could do it alone, but if she could take care of it in solitude that meant he wouldn’t have to.

If there wasn’t a giant hole in the ceiling, she might have tried to make the overhead collapse and physically cut Maynard off from the fight. Not something that was possible with the gaping hole they'd already created. And he was too close -- she'd probably end up dropping boulders on his skull by mistake. Instead, she rocketed forward at augmented speed, reigniting her blade and closing quickly in on the Darth once again. Within a flash, she was close enough to make fluid cuts rather than her preliminary swooping swipes from afore. The first was merely a gesture of the blade tip toward her shoulder. If/when that was bat away, there'd be a follow up of left and right parries in rapid succession. In the footwork, she'd make attempts to step forward and push her back. Tight, controlled waves directed her aim. Left, right, left, right, the angle adjusted only a few degrees each time while each was parried. Up, down, up, down.

Her objective was not only to end up disarming the Sith, but make it difficult for her companion to source an in so she could keep the dance between herself and the ever-insightful Sithling.

 

[Lunafreya Solidor]

Objective: Help Marlon Sularen
ABOARD THE LIONESS, capitaneado por Vara Novigrad.

The battle bleed the stars. She watched with a triumphant smile on pale her lips as her ion cannon fried a ship that had flown too close to her, on the other side her heavy turbolasers blew up four starfighters at once. Captain Vara was a proud rattataki, demanding on her subordinates and difficult to please even with good results. Dressed in white, Vara the Bald answered with a frown on her face the call received from the Golden Stag, with the lean image of a elzeri captain called Salma Picard appearing for her.

“What do you want, Picard? I will not defend your right flank. ”

“Don't be rude, Novigrad. See that little squabble on our left? ”, Vara turned her face to pay attention to the battle map open holographically beside her. “That is the Wraith Squadron. If they fall, we are next and our mistress will not be pleased. ”

"What are you trying to say, Picard? You know I have little time or patience for your word games.", she immediately asked without any encouragement in her voice.

"We help them and they can help us and our princess will pleased and eager to reward us.", the Elzeri spoke with a wicked smile on her pinkish lips. Vara could only think of how those elves thought only of prestige and rewards for their actions, even when there was little honor in them.

“Fine, captain Picard. I will follow your lead.", The two corvettes were fast, of a line of ships of their type fastest in the entire galaxy. When they started to move, they focused the eight heavy laser cannons they had against the larger ships that attacked the Solarun fleet to harm them enough as to make them confuse, also deploying all 48 Taera class swarm drones to defend their rear and protect the ship from major blows, while both began to set targets for firing your missiles. “Operative… Send a message to Captain Sularen and say that he can count on us for battle. Tell him to focus on the most dangerous targets and we will take care of the minor threats.”

The battle was intensifying on all sides, Vara Novigrad did not stop thinking about how Princess Lunafreya would be doing. Old habits, Solidor had raised her from nothing to her position, given her a place of honor among the Quatro Bestias, together the five were lethal, separated they had to honor their positions and that meant to follow the path of glory.

 

[Republic Engineering]

[ Post Theme Music ]​

Location: Sith Citadel - Ruined Entryway.
Objective: Breach Harnaidan’s Defences.
Set Piece: Subterranean Sith Citadel.
Allies: The Galactic Alliance, The New Imperial Order.
Enemies: The Sith Empire.
Equipment: See Signature for Biography Listing.
Complement: One REC-SU01 LR/FA Combat Shuttle | Sigma Squad: Two Alliance Commando NPC’s, and Din Marren .
Status: Wounded - Multiple Lacerations, Severe Bruising, and a Major Concussion. Combat Stims and Bacta Injections Administered. [Intensive Medical Treatment Required.]

Outer Rim Territories // Obtrexta Sector // Muunilinst System.
Mark [+ 00:07:12] from Operation Commencement.
​

There was much that Dare said that rang true within Gideon's damaged mind. At first, the Lieutenant was glad that his Subordinate was on the mend or at least doped up enough to not tell the difference. He could only hope that the inevitable resistance they met within the revealed installation wouldn't put the man in a terrible position in the long run. Dare - or Din Marren - had his entire career before him, and it would've been a shame if he was forced to swap out the organic leg for a flash-cloned limb, or a cybernetic prosthetic. Such extremities, at least according to his former comrades, never really felt the same as the limb they were replacing. The sensations that the artificial facsimiles imparted were somewhat alien, as nothing would ideally be wrong with the appendage itself - but more so the neural connections that knew it wasn't natural.

Gideon was fully expecting that he would be subjected to such sensations after this mission was over, as bacta had a hard time restoring brain cells - especially in sapients past a certain age threshold. High Command would likely request that he be pushed through a partial cyberization program - as technology could fix was biology couldn't. However, that was neither here nor there. They had to survive their mission first - before any thoughts were given to what the future held. So, Gideon offered a smile and slurred words in response to his comrades' oddly cheerful demeanour. Despite everything that man's been through - Dare still meets it head-on with a smile. The Commando had to respect that facet of his subordinates' personality, as it was something he lost a long time ago and was never able to recover since.

Their drop wasn't like anything they'd experienced in the simulators. Gideon had survived many crashes throughout his career, but they weren't so high up - or his armour was readily equipped with the equipment he needed to survive the landing. The Commando couldn't believe that he forgot about their high-density impact gel packets and that an unused cartridge was found on his belt. He could've avoided all of this - but a single mistake nearly crippled him for life. No doubt, the man would get blamed for his actions when the mission was complete, and there would be many that would caution him against returning to the service - but for Gideon? War was the only life he knew. The man couldn't stand the thought of sitting behind a terminal for the rest of his life, let alone adopting a civilian lifestyle.

Sure, he'd get more sleep in comparison to his present vocation, but that was nothing more than a passing fever dream. If he stepped off the frontlines, who would replace him? Who would be willing to take up his cause, when so many sought to avoid fighting? Gideon couldn't answer that question, let alone focus enough to rationalize a response. So, with great effort, the Lieutenant pushed aside the burgeoning issues and sought to direct his attention span elsewhere. When Dare began communicating with the other commandos of Sigma Squad, Gideon's almost drunken-like gaze shifted towards the smouldering entrance as his wounded mind tried to grasp the scale of the damage their Pilot inflicted upon the Sith Installation.

The entrance was partially engulfed by flames, as the primal element sought to devour the metallic supports, all-the-while lashing out against the canyon's surface thereafter. Through the voracious blaze, Gideon could see a single ingress that led further into the canyon on a slight incline. From where the man stood, he couldn't tell if that entryway was at an incline, or led towards a turbolift platform. One that would either rocket them towards the centre of the planet or to another portion of the hidden facility. Whatever the truth would be - Sigma Squad would find out together when they were reunited. At that moment, as if by some stroke of coincidence, Dare mentioned that he contacted the rest of their Unit - as Gideon's Helmet was in ruins. He stated their location was remotely delivered and that they would wait for Dynamo and Whisper's arrival.

It wouldn't be long now, as they weren't far away, and Dynamo was nearly finished patching up Whisper's broken arm. However, to Gideon's distorted sense of time - thanks in part to the concussion and the sudden lack of a working chronometre - it felt like an age. So, to pass the time with a mistaken sense of understanding, the Commando fumbled open his medkit and withdrew several vials and an injector. Two of the bottles he selected were cracked, and One was wholly destroyed - but what remained would suffice. He needed something to help clear his head and give him the faculties to operate effectively. The injections offered to him by his suit's automated processes weren't enough.

As he loaded one of the cracked vials into the Injector, and just as he was lifting his arm to press the device against his neck - Dynamo and Whisper arrived. With several curses in a few languages - many that Gideon couldn't recognize - their Unit's Medic surged forth and ripped the Injector from the Lieutenant's hand. "Are you mad?" Dynamo demanded, before dislodging the vial and crushing it underfoot. "You were about to shoot up a vial of battle stims - which would've made your situation worse. Damned fool." His words were filtered through the mechanical vocabulator of his Helmet's shrouded Comms-grille, but Gideon could tell that his Medic was nothing short of disappointed with his Commanding Officer.

"Here," the Medic continued, as he loaded the Injector with a fresh cartridge from his own supply. As he spoke, Dynamo pressed the Injector against a portion of Gideon's neck that wasn't flushed with chemical intoxicants and severe bruising. The Medic pulled the device away and stowed it back into the Lieutenant's medkit when the device chimed and the vial emptied. "This shot of bacta should help you think a little clearer, and maybe take care of that slurred speech in a few minutes. Sadly, to fully recover, we'll have to get you to a bacta tank and hope the Force is willing to get you back on your feet. If a Jedi Healer doesn't see to that wound - you may have to get cybernetics."

"No… No Cybernetics." Gideon murmured. "I have… have enough implants as is."

"Well, I can't karking help you there, El-tee. I'm a damned Medic, not some sort of miracle worker with magic hands." Dynamo was right. Gideon was forced to accept his aid to keep his wounds from getting worse. As an added plus, it would be nice to see clearly again - without his vision being stained crimson - or shrouded by what remained of his sundered Helmet. "Now, let's get this Helmet off and seal up that wound. Sorry about this in advance, El-tee, this is going to karking hurt, and there aren't enough painkillers in the Galaxy to make this feel any better."

Gideon grimaced and clenched his teeth as he felt the gentle tug of Dynamo's fingers wrap around the edges of his broken Helmet. "Alright, I got a good grasp. Take a deep breath for me, and exhale on the count of two." The Lieutenant did as he was commanded - trusting that Dynamo knew precisely what he was doing. Dynamo's armour was thrummed with activity within the blink of an eye as the powered underlay came to life, giving the man the strength of several men. His grasp upon the broken Helmet saw the sundered piece of headgear come free without incident - and was even warped further by the amount of pressure that bequeathed by the Commando's armoured digits.

"Alright," Dynamo said, as he inspected his work - to ensure that no stray piece lacerated the flesh or open any unseen wounds. "Now for that damned eye."​

~*~​

His vision was clear, or at least as clear as it could be. Dynamo had withdrawn some foam sealant from his field bag and gently pressed it against the Lieutenant's head - before injecting the gash with a stabilizing agent. As the foam degraded, it would help the bacta flow through his veins to reknit the wound enough so that the bleeding was stopped, and perhaps lead the gash towards being fully-healed. Either way, it was a stopgap measure to give the Lieutenant some measure of functionality back. When Dynamo was finished, the Medic slapped a meaty palm against Gideon's pauldron and moved to check on Dare - who likely informed the man that he was good enough until the mission was complete.

Gideon would've heard the answer, but as his senses were slowly returning, he couldn't focus on their interaction. Instead, the man slowly lumbered forward with Whisper at his side. The other Commando had his sidearm drawn and tried his best to use his arm-sling to stabilize the weapon - whilst he covered their approach. The wounded Balmorran, on the other hand, lost his service weapon during his descent. It was likely smashed to bits or was thrown into the wreckage of the installation's entrance. Despite that being the case, the Commando wasn't unarmed. After being treated by Dynamo, Gideon drew his Thyrsian scattergun and went through the motions of cycling the weapon's lethality to acceptable levels.

As he advanced, Whisper tapped his pistol against his armour - which the Lieutenant took as a signal to stop. Their heads pivoted from one direction to the next as their eyes darted from corner to corner. Sure, the entrance had been blown apart. But, the amount of time they had taken to restore some of their combat effectiveness could've seen the entrenched enemies within taking positions and lying in wait for their inevitable arrival. With the addition of Dynamo and Dare following up behind them - Sigma Squad found no hostile forces situated on the facility's exterior. "Alright, boys," Gideon said, his voice finally starting to sound somewhat coherent. "Let's get inside and see what awaits us."

And so, the wounded Sigma Squad pressed forward - slowly navigating the treacherous terrain that was now scattered around the hidden installation's entrance. As they passed by the smouldering wreckage - or at least a portion of it - Gideon offered a wordless gesture of thanks. With how the impact unfolded, there was no chance of pulling out the Pilot's remains, let alone recovering his IdentTags. He was gone - but the man wouldn't be forgotten. Gideon advanced towards the facility's entrance and gently pressed himself against the scorched bulkhead with a sense of grim determination. With a raised hand, the Commando silently gestured for Sigma Squad to enter the structure and progress deep beneath the war-torn crust of Muunilinst.

When they entered the subterranean Citadel soon after, the Soldiers of the Alliance finally encountered the enemy - which in turn led towards an escalating firefight.​

 

[Ryv]

// SWORD OF THE JEDI // FOCUSED CRUSADER //
// MUUNILIST // HARNAIDAN //
// PIERCE THE SHADOWS // BREAK SHIT //
// GEAR // BLADE OF RUUSAN // DRIP // ASPIS //
// ALLIES // Lucien Dooku
// ENEMIES // Lord Venari // Vallaro Kindall
// BOND // Allyson Locke

---

---

A beacon of unparalleled light side energy shone from the blade within Ryv's vice-like grasp. It emanated a glow like no other, chasing away the dark side's adverse effects upon his mind, aiding the Jedi Knight in keeping a powerful calm. While the Sith Lord would consider Ryv boisterous, there was a far deeper meaning behind each comment uttered by the serene Kiffar. He'd seen much more terrifying darkness than the likes of the Lord of Animus. In a distant city, on a war-torn planet, Ryv witnessed an ancient being capable of challenging the likes of forgotten Dark Lords and Jedi Grandmasters. Ellie Mors , formerly known as Braith Achlys, bore witness to the Jedi Knight as he, only a Padawan in their encounter, braved impossible odds for a noble and just cause. To save as many lives as he could, Ryv threw himself against the impervious wall that was Achlys, cast away and beaten without remorse. With only will and hope at his side, he survived a devastating meeting through mercy at the dark one's hands alone. His death all but assured, Ryv lived every day since thankful for a second chance to make a difference. Not wanting any other to accept such risk, he strove to become more than the Sword of the Jedi, but also their Shield.​

​

Taking a step forward, Ryv felt the raging inferno that was Lucien Dooku as he rocketed towards their foes. Inner darkness radiated from the Exiled Prince, but such power was different than the crescendo of shadow emitted by the Sith Lord and their battlefield. Lucien carried within him a passion for something more than strength or control, he bore the weight of a man not unlike Ryv. Lucien's fire burned, fueling his endless dance with the chains of destiny in hopes of breaking the metaphysical fate brought unto the living by the Force. The Kiffar knew not the future of Mygeeto or Muunilist. Nor did he know what would come of Loske Treicolt or Maynard Treicolt , his two closest friends. Dorian's presence had vanished, swallowed up by the inky darkness emitted by the Sith Empire. All around Ryv, the world struggled against the dark side's choking presence, threatening to lay claim to the men and women fighting for notions higher than the Sith-Imperial regime. All he knew was this moment. Watching the living blaze light up the battlefield in hopes of overcoming their enemies, a smirk took to Ryv's lips. He could feel Lucien's explosive display of power, their spirits tethered together by the force meld. It fueled Ryv, inspiring more than a desire to protect his companion, but also to take to the field and put it all on the line.​

​

Another step carried Ryv towards the inevitable clash. He thought this battle would be another struggle of ideologies or beliefs, similar to past contests between the light and the dark, but he knew differently now. This instance wasn't a matter of different viewpoints anymore. As Lucien's fire burned within him, Ryv's being, combined with the unbending Blade of Ruusan quelled that flame, turning it to a cold flurry of ice racing through the Jedi's spirit. Whereas Lucien burned bright, fueled by the emotional power surrounding them, Ryv's aura clashed against the encroaching darkness, freezing it in its tracks and battering it back into the ebb and flow of the infinite azure. Like a blizzard crawling across the battlefield, Ryv's body maintained a steady pace, his senses flickering between friend and foe, his perception of their battle heightened by Lucien's battle precognition. Vallaro's tumbling form kept his attention for a split-second, noted, and maintained as the whirlwind of glass came whipping at the Jedi Knight's ceaseless march. Still bearing the same smirk worn by his human companion, Ryv dashed forward. With the SMG and knife now raining down towards the Jedi Knight, he pushed forward into the flurry of glass, the Blade of Ruusan lighting up the reflective surface of each shard in its cyan light. ​

​

Ryv did not intend for the second barrier to last nearly as long as the first, using it primarily to push through the encircling shrapnel and stonewall the low-powered rounds sent from above. The Jedi's gambit saw wear and tear along his finely crafted armor, tears through the fabric, and a half dozen paper-thin slices through his sun-kissed flesh. The slug rounds, designed primarily to catch a lightsaber-wielding enemy off guard, found little to no purchase with the Force infused cover, ironically offered by the Bounty Hunter's employer. Small points of impact left bruising on Ryv's body. Still, the combined might of the Imperial Jedi Armor and the protective aura of force body seemed more than capable at warding off the mundane weaponry dispatched against him. Continuing his push towards the colliding powers above, Ryv tugged the Force around him, his body a blur as it rocketed up from the ground below to the walkway shared by Lucien and Venari. The swell of dark power at the Sith Lord's beckoning call did not stop Ryv, nor did he turn to flee as he did before. This time, the Jedi Knight welcomed the challenge of the hungering predator.​

​

Their minds connected, their forms akin to the machinations of clockwork, Lucien stepped aside, dancing back to permit Ryv entry into the fight once again. Following up Lucien's aggressive charge with one of his own, Ryv opted not to outright attack Venari, but instead defend for his companion. The Sith's lightning crackled against the shield, sending another uncomfortable surge of electricity into the Jedi Knight's form. He bit down, gritting his teeth to keep them from clattering together as he bashed out with the weapon, sending another surge of energy towards Venari. A mix of the Jedi's forward momentum and use of the Force knocking wide both the lightning and form V staple, falling avalanche. Ryv took a firm hold of his lightsaber in both hands, dropped his left shoulder, and pushed forward to bash the shield against the Sith Lord's frame.​

​

Ryv said nothing as he raised the cyan blade of his saber, the weapon flashing out from left to right as he aimed to put the Sith Lord on the backfoot. The familiarity in the Jedi Knight's style to the Sith Lord's multi-sabered technique showcased a mirror match between two Djem-So practitioners. Unlike the Lord of Animus, the Sword of the Jedi lacked the fanciful finesse of three separate weapons, controlled by the Force. Ryv favored the heavy-handed Blade of Ruusan, beating against any attempt at defense as all other directions fell away from the Jedi's mind, replaced with only with the concept of forward. Each step carried him forward with the fury of an inescapable blizzard, the winds of the Force seeming to flow behind the Jedi, enhancing his speed and strength with each blow. The icy bite of the lightsaber in his hands contested the dark presence of Venari and his weapons, the sentient artifact out for blood, its attention on the dark crystal empowering the crimson-bladed saber. The calm etched into Ryv's battle-worn eyes spoke of an endless sea, motionless, undisturbed by the ravages of battle around him. He was one with the moment, a battering ram meant to capture the Sith Lord's attention and provide Lucien the opening he needed to overwhelm their singular enemy.​

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

> OBJECTIVE : Harnaidan Get Out Alive Keep Them Busy Dying, Hold On
> THEMATIC : Fade Away
> KIT : Tenebrae Armor / Streiter Vibroblade / BR-212-'Jackal' ACR / BH 'Durin' Charric Blaster Pistol / KXA AFVG-01x 'Void' Grenade / Basic Light Saber / Genesis Ranging Company
> Focus : AMCO Ravraa Vyshraal

---

---

The Commander hadn’t had any real skin in the game until she had been dragged out into this fray. Under the Empire's banner, it had been easier to dull one's senses swept up under as just another cog. Not now though, not when there was blood of a mangled body of a man sliding down the brick wall beside her. Every past deployment paled, this had been decimation-torture. Prying open her eyes, there was someone coming..but it was an afterthought. Lyra’s vision was swimming, she was sitting in the back seat to the turnings of the galaxy..everything was so distant..The building blurred paint strokes against the smokey horizon and there was no telling how long she had lay there. Coming in and out of consciousness. The noise of battle echoed..and echoed in her ears until it startled her awake.

She remembered-no, knew what had happened. The cement dug painfully at the back of her skull, laid low in the shadow of the colossus. It was dead and so her job was done. A gasp seizing her, body slow to catch up as her lungs burned. Lyra was still staring down the Sith Spawn in her mind, hand on the saber when it had snapped. Worse yet she had stared back in to her own eyes, something had changed. Raising her arm, her entire form shook..she looked upon a stump, her hand..was gone. Jagged bone protruding, fresh blood burned hot and she could faintly hear the drops hitting her chest plate.

You’re bleeding out.

A pained noise, one that spelled fear escaped her. Lyra whimpered, dragging her left hand from out beneath her. Gauntlet clumsily patting down her belt, searching and sifting blindly through the pouches..They had told them how to complete basic first aid in the field but..most men died before they could. She had always carried a band on her, another desperate noise escaped her as she watched blood steadily pour from the wound. Her head screamed, and she shut her eyes to cull it.

So..was this it then? Lyra doubted her odds, she was to tired to panic now. The tourniquet was somewhere..and a harsh breath escaped her when she found it. Ripping the damn thing out her side pouch, reality was setting in fast around and her breathing bordered erratic. The women's movement jerky, winding the strap through the gap of her armor just above the elbow. Winding it until it pained her, until it cut the blood flow off and at the end of the strap she let it snap in place. Only then did she let herself rest, settling the wounded limb against her chest. There was no coming home now.

“--Who are you?"
​

“I’m-” the words died on her lips. It was practically conditioned in her to respond but..a cold presence crept up upon her, drew her focus.. The woman's head lulled to the side, cheek scraping the road debris and her corrupted eyes sought the source of the question. Force Corps? Oh no, not quite. Her sight still swarmed and she was staring at legs..maker help her the man was all body. Why was there a naked man in the middle of the battle field? A delirious sort of laughter escaped her, turning into a struggling peel that left her wheezing as her eyes screwed shut, until tears streaked down her face; leaving a trail through the grime collecting upon her face.

.."Step back, hands up. Leave the area!" ..​

“What the fuck..” was all she whispered. Well there were worse ways to die.

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

// IMPERATOR | ENIGMA ACTUAL // 1st ‘Punished’ Stormtrooper Legion
// OBJECTIVE // Harnaidan
// THEMATIC // Who are you to wave your finger?
// ENGAGING // Cara Dorniarn
// NIO - Allies // FN-999
// TSE - Enemy // Mazrim Caide/Taim

​

He should've known better than try and confine one of Cara's craft to the ground. Knocking his opponent from their footing and sending them to the flooring beneath that typically been the far more advantageous approach in these scraps of sheer will and power. Even so - Dorniarn was quick to her feet again, one of her feet grazing past the side of his Beskar helm, only serving to plant a nauseating sensation around the beskar horn embedded into his skull. His vision in his still organic eye narrowed for a moment, tunneling as his periphery blackened for the faintest of moments. But there was no time to wallow in this pain.

Even if he'd only appeared to Cara directly donning the colors of a Sith-Imperial Lord General, this was his more natural state of being. Among the shattered ruins, covered in ash, his own blood fresh on his senses. He was not cut from the same nepotist cloth of aristocratic decorum and virtues from which the Sith Empire had long found occupying its upper echelon. He was born of nothing, raised in nothing. He'd only ever manifested himself into this moment of shattering in the Galaxy by will alone.

Fear. Pain. Guilt. They'd ruled him, conquered him. Reaped the spoils in impulse, anger and the necessity of control. A control over his life, his destiny, his death. Even if he'd seemingly mastered the first two, his guilt still buried itself into his subconscious into a deeply parasitic bond, seemingly manifesting itself in the night terrors and horrific visions which plagued his subconcious.

<"You chastise me...and you do nothing but choke on their lies and live a subjugate."> Irveric says, reeling his body back a pace to evade the earthern spears that shoot up from the earth willed by Cara. As his upper body his reeled back for the split second he reaches a hand up to the plate carrier mounted to his armor, grasping ahold of one of the grenades and pulling it from the pouch. Reeling back the fuse to its nigh instant allotment he reels forward again to slam the charge into the earth between them, instantly igniting in a blinding flash, likely subsided by the helmet arrays mounted to both of their panoplies of war. As voidstone smoke bellows around them, Irveric uses the faint spark of sensory envelopment to strike fast and low.

Seeking to sever the distance between them h swiftly if only charged by the synthetic muscles and power armored servos serving to falsify a bulk of the weight in his armor. Even still, his man maneuver to crash himself forward unto the ground into a roll to his side, turning unto his shoulders in an attempt to catch the inside of her left thigh with the back of his calf as his other leg surges out to slam against the back of her right, his left hand moving to grasp her ankle as a leverage point to follow throw the maneuver where ideally he'd send her crashing to the ground from her footing again, ideally to cross her left leg over his chest to clamp and twist her foot between his torso and arms into a heel hook as he tries to keep a static control of her with his legs and weight.

As much as his mind thrust venomous rhetoric to the forefront, he swallowed his pride in favor of the engagement around him. Losing it would leave it a culmination into nothingness. Like many cut from the cloth of the Sith, if she was going to listen he would have to make a show of power in defiance of any delusions she might've had facing him directly.

She had no vision and the HUD flickered off; signal gone.

With all his focus on the fight before him he was diverted if only by the faintest of moments by the dim sight at the corner of his vision. Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt ; signal gone, vitals : negative. Status...unknown. If Irveric had to guess, only the worst. In Cara's appraisal of his motive, of his guilt - she had been all but correct. To lose her here, it only served to well it further. His teeth ground against one another so rigidly he swore they might shatter as he sought an upper hand in this engagement. For now, his patience had remained intact enough to allow Dorniarn reprieve enough in that he didn't intend to kill her outright, her next words might serve to alter this disposition if she spoke up again here. His rationale withering again before the tension and torque of muscles and bone surged him back into the reality before him.

He had to survive before anything else mattered.

 

[Lucien Dooku]

DUEL OF THE FATES
DRIP | LIGHTSABER | KAL'ORITSIR

​

It was pure satisfaction in the moment where his blade collided with Venari's own, the rippling effect of plasmatic weaponry releasing a dazzling display of radiant light into the air around the two initial combatants. His focus had once more reached its peak as the impetus of his attack brought the full brunt of his momentum down upon the Sith Lord's guard, forcing the man several steps backwards from the sheer amount of energy that was presented behind the blade. His eyes met with Venari at the moment the momentum died down, the Sith Lord taking it upon himself to read into the Jedi that seemingly fed on the same source of power and strength that he called upon himself. He saw the darkness raging from within the Jedi with little regard to the consequence that come as a result, and bore witness to a man who thrived upon the feeling of battle while perfectly sanguine in his own twisted, excitingly blissful way.

For there wasn't a Sith or Jedi so far that he'd met and shared a similar outlook on life, and the force, as his own. He'd come to accept the fact that, maybe he was an outlier in the grand scheme of how the denizens of the galaxy perceived the force, and how it impacted their lives as an omniscient aspect of their sense-of-being. Caught up in the ever-continuous web of pledging oneself to the light or the dark, the followers of the galaxy's force cults had always resonated the same note within his perception, and as a result he could never accept the teachings of either side for anything besides indoctrination at their best. He was destined by the force to be a Sith, yet in becoming an exile to his homeworld of Serenno, the force was no longer the presence which defined where his ambitions would lie in the future. It became a tool for the Exiled Prince to carve his own destiny out of nothing, and perhaps it had taken him some years to truly grasp the concept of manifesting his will upon the force itself, but eventually he found the right path to proceed forwards with a life that was up to him alone to manipulate.

No better example of this would be displayed than in his current bout, paired off against a Sith Lord who brought words to the battle where Lucien had only wanted to bring blades. Similar to the battle's inception, the Jedi peered through Venari with little fixation to anything other than the fight that was at hand. The Sith's rhetoric had clearly been heard by the Jedi, whose eyes swiveled towards the man as a small fit of laughter exited his lips, perhaps to taunt the Sith Lord, or genuinely out of amusement at what the man had said. A shift in his expression followed the deadening of his laughter as his eyebrows furrowed, blue-grey orbs settling upon the Sith Lord directly and up close for the first time during their fight. His demeanor had drastically shifted within moments, his aura completely consumed by the burning spirit within his core. The flood of emotions that Venari had sensed being released were the real deal. The amalgam of emotions that the Jedi claimed to lead one down a path to being fallen and corrupted were real, and beaming off of his person with each passing second that the two ideological enemies engaged in combat.

Yet to fall was not his story. ​

"The hubris of your kind is as sickening as your assumptions, Sith." The grip upon his weapon tightened, the pressure behind the blade increasing a moment after the first words had exited his lips at Venari. "-- And I'm no paragon, if you're looking for a hero, color me dissapointed after I strike you down a couple levels!" He continued on just as his hind foot slid backwards from its spot in his current stance. The meld between him and Ryv had been a natural feeling, the distinction between where his thoughts began and where Ryv's thoughts ended having as little importance as the glass which shattered and rained down upon them just moments before. He slid backwards with his dominant foot as Ryv charged forwards from behind him, rolling off the heel of his boot in order to pivot out of his guard and allow Ryv to take his place at the front-- for now.

His lightsaber carved through the air as he spun into place, the whispers of the force providing the Jedi with an instinctual nudge to act upon his instincts as much as it did to continue feeding off the area's wide range of emotions. The initial bout of strikes from the floating lightsabers were met with a connecting weave of strikes that met each blade with a ferocious impact, deflecting them away from the intended spot that Ryv now filled. From his peripheral he caught sight of that familiar beaming of light that accompanied the feeling of dark energies once more being manifested physical, yet Luc maintained full confidence in the Alliance Jedi through the thought-connecting bond that kept them moving fluid in their assault.

Instead he shifted his attention back towards Vallaro, his body bent at the knees as he angled his body towards him. A button trailed his weapon's activation switch, and the weapon was clipped onto his belt a moment before he was propelled into the air wtih a rippling cloud of dust forming from the impact of his feet leaving the ground. The aura coming off the Jedi was one exuding the intent to kill, and Vallaro himself would surely be aware of this if the man was a force sensitive of any level. The force welled from within his once more, coursing into his arm and traveling its way down the length of his arm before he cocked his arm back, then delivered a twisting fist towards Vallaro at the half-ways point between their potential collision. Whereas his previous feat of telekinesis had been used in a manner to violently knock the man back, what had been delivered this time was a far-cry from that mild use of the force from before. A potent wave of tekekinetic force rippled forwards, swaying the ground beneath its silhouette until it reached the air, delivering with it a mixture of dust and debris that the robust build-up of the force had gathered in its momentum. Encompassing a much wider space than before, Lucien's intentions were fully to envelop the bounty hunter in the wave, pelting him with fast-moving debris before casting him across the air and into the nearest hard surface the force would carry him into.

It was not a sure-fire kill, but the carried behind it the intent nonetheless, and Lucien had barely gotten started when the fun had just began. Following through with the momentum that his force-assisted jump had given him, Luc continued forwards, as the wave of energy would either lead to Vallaro's obliteration or presumably force him to move out of the way. An opening would be given nonetheless, albeit at the cost of sending him on a collision course with the duracrete wall now directly in front of his path. Coming to front-spin before the intended collision, Luc would bring his entire body facing the opposite way this time, his feet now pressed firmly against the duracrete wall whilst his knees remained bent, absorbing the impact of it all. He willed the force into existence once more, enhancing his legs in order to rocket off the wall towards the target he intended for the entire time.

Venari was locked into his vision the moment he propelled forwards, his dominant hand moving across the top of his back until it firmly grasped in place with the hilt of the sword that had rested on his back until then. Kal'oritsir was unsheathed in an instant, the blade swinging across to his side as his free hand joined the other upon the hilt to form a two-handed grip onto the weapon. The release of the weapon brought upon an even greater rush of emotions that coalesced with the existing dark energies that were feeding his desire to fight from his bout with Venari. The Rogue Jedi had been using Vaapad the entire time; his primary fighting style, and the one which he'd only brought out when he'd met an opponent that was worthy enough to fight until one side simply could not fight anymore. Typically dark-siders were par for the course, and Venari had not disappointed with his clever use of force powers mixed in with exquisitely-performed lightsaber combat.

Unfortunately for both them and Ryv as well, the Exiled Prince of Serenno was not as graceful at his best as he was when he was at his worst. Coming down off the high wall with a force assisted jump, his force-imbued weapon in hand, Lucien rocketed towards both Venari and Ryv with the killer grin on his face having shifted back to the gleeful smirk from before. He needed neither finesse nor the fancy footwork that he'd relied upon on the ground to reach the completion of his next attempt to bring down the Sith Lord for good-- and he meant for good. Kal'oritsir, or Bladesworn as it was known in basic, was brought to a high guard at his side mid-course, setting Lucien up to then strike down upon the Sith with a mighty overhead strike. Aimed at the spot between his shoulder and his neck, the strike itself would carry the full weight of his emotions, amplified by the Kal'oritsir, and further augmented through the impressive display he put up with his usage of Form VII's Vaapad. The sword itself would also aid Lucien in his desire to end the Sith Lord outright, as the weapon's naturally kinetic properties would further intensify the colossal amount of force being delivered all at once.

The earth-shattering attack carried with it deathly-focused intent that Ryv would be able to sense through their connection in order to back out of the impact zone of the attack. Lucien was zeroed in on his target, no longer content with being the hunted by those who couldn't even temper their own hubris for their foes. No matter the outcome of such a grandiose attack, with Bladesworn in his hands, he no longer needed to rely on the Sith to fuel his desire to fight the men until death had reached its natural conclusion. His spirit had reached the zenith of the fire that contrasted to the ice that was Ryv, and together he knew they would win. No, they had to win, and Lucien would do whatever it took to ensure that the Sith were not the victors.

Spoiler: tags

Ryv Trajan Kurze Commander Larkin Dorian Sicarrio Lord Venari Leon Amun Vallaro Kindall

 

[Tyrell Paxxus]

New Imperial Invasion Fleet 'Hell Patrol' - Mygeeto

Battlecruisers Destroyers Cruisers Frigates Corvettes Support Craft / Fighters

• EPITAPH II
  Defiance-class Star Destroyer
  
• 3x Praefect-class Star Destroyer
  
• x4 Donnager-class Star Destroyer
  
• x3 Corvus-class Frigates
  x2 EF96 Nebulon-A Escort Frigate
  
• x1 TXS Vandal-class Corvette
  
• 5 Squadrons:
  TIE/HB Bruiser
  7 Squadrons:
  TIE/HF Slasher
  12 Squadrons:
  TIE/INx Interceptor
  10 Squadrons:
  TIE/OTx Outlander
  

// GRAND VIZIER //
// ABOARD THE EPITAPH II //
// Telis Taharin-Zambrano Marlon Sularen Thaelius Lunafreya Solidor //

Tyrell gritted his teeth, watching as one of the retreating frigates became engulfed in carnage. Turbolasers screamed remorselessly through the lacuna, slamming into the durasteel hull of the ship. Section by section, the ship began to collapse in violent bursts of red and orange. Swarms of fighters and small craft broke away from the vessel.

Some flew in retreat, others tried to move on in the next step of their assault. As their paths converged, flight formations withered into chaotic clouds of erratic pitches and rolls, with lasers dancing between the gaps from ship to ship. Through the havoc, the vessel's final transmission found its way to the bridge.

<"Vizier Admiral Paxxus, it was an honor serv-">

The transmission ended just as the creeping line of explosions that wracked the ship like a wave finally met its climax at the last surviving end of the vessel. The last of those lives being snuffed out created a disturbance to which, among everyone else in the bridge, was only tangible to Tyrell. The feeling it caused, like a ringing in his skull, made his eyes squeeze shut.

"We've lost Hardwire 3," came the somber callout from the Lieutenant. It was practically a needless report, no one on the bridge had missed the ugly sight just beyond the viewport. The urgency that had been in her voice before had been nearly washed away. The weight in her tone had been stifled halfway beneath the gloom that had been evoked by the transmission from the fallen ship.

Tyrell's thumb and index finger each rubbed over either of his eyes. The overwhelming feeling that washed over him was something he had grown all too familiar with. To anyone who knew the force well, they would recognize the disturbance of what it was; the echo of mass loss of life reverberating through the force. For Tyrell, it was simply the repercussive feeling of failure.

"Nearly half of all squadrons are-"

A sudden rumble and jounce interrupted the Captain. Three thunderous impacts sent rocked the foundation of the ship, sending everyone in bridge yet again struggling for balance. Small alarms began to sound from the bridge stations. The officers clambered back to the stations as soon as they gained hold of their bearings from the sudden shakeup.

"Hull breach on the far bow! We've lost a Superheavy Turbolaser and both Hypervelocity cannons!"

"They've pulled nearly all fire from Captain Sularen's fleet and refocused it to us!"

Smaller quakes wracked the bridge as fire pummeled the Epitaph II. Tyrell's eyes scanned the scene beyond the viewport. When the ship rocked once again, Tyrell remained firmly upright. His eyes darted around wildly, bouncing from ship to ship. The Autarch-class Siege Breaker was slowly growing larger, a visual omen foretelling the misfortune that came with its dogged approach. Plans needed to change, and they needed to change quickly.

"We're going to mirror their approach. We're as good as dead if we continue to hold and remain conservative. All ships forward, prepare for close-quarters engagement."

​

// 2nd Lieutenant Jessiin Ketha - Nebula Six //
// 2nd Liuetenant Vieg Rashik - Nebula Two //
// Takyon Five Fighter Support Wing: Nebula //
// TIE/HF Slasher //

Takyon Five's point defense weapons lit up space around the corvette like a light show. Takyon Five and Takyon Six had been sent to interpose themselves between incoming strike craft, and the line of ships that kept Mygeeto under siege. Even with fighter support, it was a daunting task for merely two corvettes.

Jessin made a long pass along the perimeter of the engagement zone. She'd broken hostile pursuit and was looking to reengage and fly back into formation. She gripped the yoke tightly as stress flooded her mind. Takyon Five and Six were the last lines of defense before the new wave of hostile strike craft reached the bigger ships. The heavy hitters of the fleet were relying on them to keep them from being overwhelmed, but they were outnumbered.

<"Two bogeys in pursuit, I can't shake 'em!">

Jessin recognized Vieg's voice even through the distorted comms. The Rodian was always big talk until it was time to get down to business. Jessin smirked as she pulled away from the perimeter and began to move back towards the engagement.

<"Inbound to save your ass yet again, Nebula Two.">

Flying a sharp curve, Jessin's TIE cut through the chaos in pursuit of Vieg's assailants. Each arc, curve, and roll of her flight pattern mimicked the Sith-Imperial pilots she pursued. The lasers and missiles that whizzed through the air around her were little more than background noise in the face of her pursuit. The indicator on her HUD beeped and flickered, the targeting reticle scrolling across the screen as she attempted to line up her shot.

In a sudden dive all four craft dived along the side of the ship. The Sith-Imperial pilots continued to fire at Vieg as he led them beneath the corvette. Gliding along the underside, Vieg only narrowly managed to avoid fire, his TIE weaving back and forth. He tucked downwards and pulled upwards, ascending up the side of the corvette and flying past the ion thrusters.

<"I'd really appreciate that ass saving right about now, Nebula Six!">

<"Yeah, yeah, I'm working on it.>

Following her pursuit up the side of the corvette, she pushed down on the yoke and came forward in a sharp ninety-degree curve to become parallel with the top of the corvette. The targeting reticule centered on the HUD and cried out with a series of fast high pitched beeps. Flinching with anticipation, she squeezed the index-finger mounted triggers. The rapid-fire laser cannons exploded to life, sending long streaks of red destruction crashing into the one of the hostile fighters pursuing Vieg. The craft veered to the left, spinning out wildly as the fire erupted from the hull.

<"Get Some!"> Jessin cried out over the comms excitedly. The high of hitting her mark never seemed to dwindle, no matter how many times she achieved that rush. Her excitement was cut short by the sound of urgent mechanical beeping emanating from her sensors. The vast swarm of approaching red dots was enough to almost make her jaw drop. Before she had ample time to process, a voice accosted her over the comms.

<"All squadrons be advised; Vast amounts of missiles inbound. Take evasive measures immediately.">

Jessin and Vieg both broke right, quickly diverging away from the engagement zone. The rest of the New-Imperial craft scattered as well. The enemy craft quickly followed up on the opportunity seize the advantage and take pursuit. Streams of craft neatly flowed away from the cruiser, lasers and torpedoes intertwined with the formations like a massive durasteel thread.

The guided missiles decimated craft after craft. Each fighter snuffed out with the cold and remorseless precision of guided projectiles. The debris of fighter craft where thrown through the engagement zone, each fighter exploding like a fragmentation grenade. Nearby craft were torn to pieces by the leftover parts of their squadrons.

<"I'm hit, I'm hit!"> Vieg bellowed into his comms. When Jessin looked to her three o'clock, all she could see was a ball of fire flying alongside her. Another missile narrowly missed her, soaring right past her and blasting into Vieg's TIE. The debris from what was left of his ship spewed violently towards Jessin, each little piece grating through her TIE effortlessly. Jessin cried out in horror as the shrapnel began to impale through the cockpit and eventually, through her. She screamed until she couldn't anymore.

Turbolasers stroked through the void and punched holes in Takyon Five, sending expanding swaths of black, orange, and yellow erupting from the hull. A large internal explosion ripped the corvette in half, sending each side drifting in opposite directions. The once defensive line of fighters and corvettes now a chaotic graveyard of shrapnel, fire, and debris.

​

// GRAND VIZIER //
// ABOARD THE EPITAPH II //

"We just lost Takyon Five! Takyon Six's retreat is compromised, strike craft are in pursuit!"

"All of Takyon Five's fighter support is Tango Uniform. Only one fighter wing remains for Takyon Six."

Tyrell rubbed his hand over his mouth. The unease was slowly starting to creep into the back of his mind, ready to set in. The second wave of death caused yet another disturbance on Tyrell's cosmic senses. He squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head, letting out a long, drawn-out exhale from his nose. Regaining his composure her turned his head to look at the bridge comms officer.

"Open a transmission to Captain Sularen."

"Yes, Vizier Admiral," the comms officer responded, quickly tabbing away at the terminal before him. "Transmission is open, sir."

"Captain Sularen, the bulk of their primary fire has been refocused to my fleet. We're moving to meet their approach, use this opportunity to take their flank. Do not relent. We're outgunned, and can spare absolutely no room for error."

Another flash of light flicked across the battlespace. Tyrell's gaze came up to meet the sight of one of the Donnager-class cruisers that were making strafing runs against the Sith fleet. The bridge was in flames, thick clouds of black smoke and bright orange blazes obscured the ship. The ship's trajectory became uncalculated and aimless. The large wedge-vessel drifted across the battlespace, lasers still firing through the smoke.

"Cortex One has lost its bridge!"

"Can we contact them?"

"Negative sir, all their communications are down."

Tyrell bit the inside of his lip and displayed a worried expression. He stared silently at the blaze from his distant perch on the bridge.

"What do we do? Without command and communications, they're as good as done."

Tyrell shook his head gently, still staring at the conflagration that engulfed the bridge. Realistically, there was little that could reasonably be done without taking risks they couldn't afford to take. Trying to rescue them would only serve to divert resources away from the battle, essentially throwing away everything up to this point. This was all going to shit very quickly.

"We continue our approach, Captain."

Spoiler: Fleet Stuff

Corvus-class frigate is destroyed.
Epitaph II takes heavy damage.
Strike and support craft take huge losses.
Tyrell's fleet breaks the defensive position to advance forward.
One corvette is destroyed while the other attempts to stall the strike craft as much as possible during its retreat.
Tyrell relays orders to the Marlon Sularen
Donnager-class cruiser loses its command bridge, trapped drifting uncomfortably close to the Sith fleet with no method of control.

 

[AMCO]

Location: Streets of Harnaidan.
Objective: Chase NIO off my damn lawn.
Equipment: Gildenweave Boxer Briefs | [3] Karza'Arana
Writing With: Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Ravraa Vyshraal
---

Doing his very best not to look at - and most definitely not to step into - the mutilated remnants of the woman's soldiers, Adrian frowned down at her delirious form. He did not like this, any of this - death should be dealt with clinical precision or at the very least away from his sight...

... and yet time and time again, he found himself dragged into conflicts such as these. Damn these intruders.

Just as he was about to press her further, his attention was pulled to yet more goons in armour making their entrance - did the New Imperials have an inexhaustible supply or was he just unlucky? Sighing dramatically, he peered over at the faceless man in charge, seemingly indifferent to the call for his surrender and departure. "You will let me leave? How thoughtful of you."

Skin rippling slightly as dark energies flowed through his body, he quirked his head sideways, smirking softly. "Paragon of mercy that I am, I think I shall return the favour..." Pointing a single slender finger at one of the NIO troopers, or soldiers, or whatever they were, he gestured towards the fallen officer. "... but first, use that medkit of yours to keep her alive, would you? I abhor wastefulness."

Entirely too casual for the situation, he tacked on a final remark. "Oh, and please don't be a bother - I prefer not to kill unless necessary."

 

[Gat Tambor]

( Drip courtesy Republic Engineering )​

// "SSD" //
// OBJECTIVE // Tithe Collection
// YE TRACK // P O W E R
// Free Market [NIO] // Avernus
// Statists [TSE] // Aerarii Tithe | Darth Argentum | Madelyn Lowe

---

---

---

Not a shred of fear ran through the Skakoan as the Treasurer General fired off his volley of particle beams in the direction of Tambor. The pistol thrown might've been equally regarded as a stray gnat in the air. Nothing to the man encased in the heavy metal panoply of war crafted to such potent specifications, it had rendered Tambor one of the more lethal combatants to take the field here this day. To face him? A bureaucrat. Were Tambor so despicable in nature, he might've gone about disintegrating him immediately, extinguishing an asset from the Sith Empire's bureaucratic apparatus.

Gat Tambor was far more nuanced than this. Matter of fact, he might as well had been better described as a 'wild card', an unknown variable. He had a track record, certainly. But there was no predicting Gat Tambor. At least his colleagues in Caulder Dune and Darth Empyrean certainly had a difficult time picking up on his trail.

The seed of information Tithe relinquished of Gat Tambor's despicable track of investments sparked an arched brow from the Skakoan in rampant curiousity. He'd assumed most everyone had pieced together his heavy involvement in the New Imperial Order, given the Technoid manufacturer's stamp on just about every military asset the New Imperial Order utilized.

With his seating at the Director of the Imperial Board Of Economic Directors, he had commanding influence and control over the rebel economy. As much as his colleagues among the IGBC, the very men which he'd been living in the shadows of thought themselves the weavers of Galactic fate - none of them could claim the singular power Tambor had outside of what they'd constructed in the convoluted systems themselves.

"OWEWEERERERERERRR- Tithe...I did not merely bankroll them...I all but created them." Gat Tambor boldly claims.

"The very Darth Voyance was the first to approach me with words of treason. And I obliged. You fail to understand...there is no loyalty to nations and creeds here. In our world, the world of economics, numbers, analytics...your devotion means nothing, you should know well by now. Whatever prosperity the Sith have reaping the fruits of annihilation will soon erode in this war. Just as the New Imperials have, they will sink deeper and deeper into irrecoverable debt. As we speak, terrorists rise up within The Confederacy and the Bryn'adul rampage across the Galaxy. This is the pattern, the way of things. The wheel that must keep turning." The Foreman says, all but ignoring Tithe's posture as he hefts the power mace toward him.

"War is coming. For everyone. With it, each and every government will expend every fiber to maintain its pride and thus, spend their fiat into irreversible servitude to the IGBC, the corporations, the banks. And with no other choice? They will continue to war with one another in the hopes of staving off the consequences, to keep their chattel blind and ignorant to the fact that their way of life is built on delusion. All the while...men like us reap the fruits of this. War is economics by other means. You have immense potential, my friend. And so...I urge you, forsake these chains of servitude to the Sith and join me. These nations do not fight and die for their interests...but for ours." Gat Tambor offers, speaking as a man either truly and genuinely pragmatic as an industrialist or utterly despicable.

 

[Dracken Pryce]

Directly Engaging: Melia Siari
Allies: The Galactic Alliance | New Imperial Order
Objective: Take the Skyhook and High Port Space Center
Location: Muunilinst Orbit
Mood​

Galactic Alliance Navy - 3rd Sector Fleet Muunilinst Assault Group

Battlecruisers Destroyers Cruisers Frigates Corvettes Fighters In Play

• 
  
  • ANV Starchild II - Colony II-Class Battlecruiser
  • ANV Agni Kai - Redeemer-Class Battlecruiser
  • ANV Indullible 6 - Redeemer-Class Battlecruiser
  • ANV Omachron - Starhawk-Class Battleship
  • ANV Freedom - Starhawk-Class Battlleship
  • ANV Gleipnir - Starhawk-Class Battleship
• 
  
  • ANV Hyperion - Nebula II-Class Star Destroyer
  • ANV Guardian - Nebula II-Class Star Destroyer
• 
  
  • ANV Lylek - MC140c Scythe-Class Main Battle Cruiser
  • ANV Paradice Dawn - MC140c Scythe-Class Main Battle Cruiser
  • ANV Star Opal - MC140c Scythe-Class Main Battle Cruiser
  • ANV Hawk-Bat - REC-AU01 "Prosecutor" - Class Planetary Assault Ship [Fighter Config]
  • ANV Blue Bantha - REC-AU01 "Prosecutor" - Class Planetary Assault Ship [Fighter Config]
• 
  
  • Small Handful of Light Cruisers
  • Sword 1-3 [Launched] Bador-Type Light Cruiser
  • Sword 3-6 [Berthed] Bador-Type Light Cruiser
• 
  
  • REC-CC01 "Avalon" - Class Corvettes
  • TXS Vandal-class Corvettes
  • REC/GS-01 “Nimbus” - Class Gunships
  • Warrior II - Class Gunships
• 
  
  • T-90 X-Wings [Wildcat Squadron]
  • V-Wings
  • R-Wings
  • Y-Wings

Muunilinst Orbit
Galactic Alliance 3rd Sector Fleet
Aboard the Starchild II - Bridge

Flashes of turbolaser fire lit up the bridge as the flared by and crashed into the shields of the Starchild. They'd taken a heavy loss in engineering when the Siege Cannon hit. Pryce desperately wanted to avoid another hit like that. Though he knew that area had been especially vulnerable as they prepared to fire, he knew that if the shields took a blow like that they'd be sitting ducks. The escort cruisers were doing their job though, creating overlapping layers of protection and keeping fighters off of them. Floating between them and the Sith they could hold their own against the mass of Destroyers, but the Battlecruisers laying into them as well was more than tough. He knew they would take heavy losses by day's end.

"Hyperion and Guardian report being locked in enemy tractor beams. Under heavy fire."

"Lylek is requesting for more fire support against enemy fighters."

"Blue Bantha's engines are back online! They'll be in engagement range in two minutes."

"New Imperial Order Destroyer Group has responded to query. They are currently engaged but said to expect support. ETA 5 minutes."

"Blue Bantha: Gold Squadron reporting total loss."

Total loss? That hurt. But he knew there would be plenty of death today...The information was coming in bursts as the bridge buzzed with activity. He wondered how Garvey handled it all in his computerized brain. Speaking of Garvey...

"So remember when we thought they had a lot of fighters before?" Garvey popped up announced and un-called next to Pryce's command chair. The admiral's eyes widened as he looked at the tactical displays wondering if they really had put the Sith on that much of a backfoot in this assault. Sure, a good squadron of pilots could be the difference between victory and death, but that was if they were good, exceptional pilots. Dumping more droids at them...Well even with them just being droids, estimates were putting the fighter coverage by the Sith at near 100% of their projected fighter capacity while they had put out less than 30%. That was a benefit of using droid fighters he had to admit. You didn't have to worry about rest or sending them to their deaths unnecessarily, and if they got the job done then you have even less to complain about.

"I want the rest of Sword Squadron out there. Tell them to launch fighters as soon as they're clear of the Starchild. Order the same for the Cruisers and our own fighters. How's Wildcat Squadron doing?"

"They came in a little while ago, 45% lost in the initial stages of the battle." Pryce cursed under his breath. They were some of his best.

"Defensive screening only. They have numbers, but we have the better fighters and escorts. Those fighters will have trouble-"

"Admiral! The dreadnought is powering up for another attack!"

"What?!"

Muunilist Orbit
Galactic Alliance 3rd Sector Fleet
Aboard Nimbus Gunship Kakarot
Assigned - Agni Kai Escort Group

Captain Morgan stared in disbelief at his tactical display as the Kakarot flew out of the Starchild's hangar. When he'd docked for resupply and a quick fix the battle had looked dodgy, now it just seemed ridiculously crowded. Typically, naval doctrine dictated that for a successful battle you would trickle out your fighters. This was especially true of long, drawn-out battles like this one was shaping up to be. This was to alleviate the hangar crews and make sure that every fighter or bomber got the attention they required throughout the conflict. It was also done to keep the strain on the pilots low and cycle them out as they got tired, injured, or were killed in combat, very much like a game of smashball or limie.

What Morgan was looking at now...

"Captain we've got incoming fighters, and a LOT of them. Gunnery crews can't keep up!"

"Switch from manual to automatic, we'll have to let the droid brain try and keep up." The Nimbus was a very fast vessel and packed more than enough laser cannons to be feared by fighters and enough ordinance to make lone capital ships think twice about fighting more than one of the gunships at a time. So if that were the case...Why were these fighters flying into their firing lines willy nilly!? A beep from his com board indicated new orders. The device didn't wait for his command. Orders came streaming across the pannel.

"We're flying escort," Morgan said as he pulled the control yoke. "Defend the Lylek!" The Kakarot zipped around one of the escort frigates that were blasting away at the fighters as well while simultaneously trying to keep the pressure on the Sith cruisers. Truly, this battle was a spectacle.

Muunilinst Orbit
Galactic Alliance 3rd Sector Fleet
Aboard the Omachron - Bridge

The change in orders had surprised Commander Gorr, but humans surprised him all the time. Splitting up Commodore Satou's attack group between the Starhawks and the Redeemers was an odd choice. They were supposed to all take the skyhook together, but when he saw what the Sith had done he knew it was the right call. The Redeemers could dish out just as much firepower as the Starhawks and could take just as much too, but they lacked the ability to control the flow of battle. They were a blunt tool and he had a feeling that the Admiral knew he'd need the Starhawks for something other than bludgeoning a few cruisers.

"Commander! Sensors are indicating a large power spike in the enemy lead vessel. It's charging for another attack!" The Quarren stroked one of his face tentacles and glanced at the tactical display. They'd laid into the Siege Destroyer's shields pretty heavily and telemetry scans had brought back that the ship lacked heavily when it came to defending its rear, so it was no surprise that it was ignoring them. The Omachron rocked slightly as turblaser fire crashed into its shields, an ever-present reminder that they were in the middle of an intense brawl. He looked to one of his weapons officers. Most of them had come from Mon Calamari after the Emperor poisoned its waters and imprisoned the Mon Calamari people. As a sympathetic Quarren he'd been spared and used his time to help spirit away many of those Mon Calamri to the Core. Many of them now served alongside him, just like Lieutenant Charr.

"Charr, order your tractor beam operators to target that Siege cannon. If this thing can pull Star Destroyers it can pull a cannon, just make sure its away from the Starchild!"

"Aye aye sir, they've given the target lock on that area of the ship, but we've only got confirmation on one barrel."

"By the Seas of Dak man, fire and pull!" Catching on to their plan the ANV Gleipnir, which had dropped on the opposite side of the Imperial Fist to the Omachron mimicked, tugging at the starboard cannon while the final Starhawk continued to fire into the underbelly. This was priority alpha for them and though they were under fire they were much sturdier than the carrier cruiser the Longbows had caught off guard earlier. The blows hurt but they held.

Muuninlinst Orbit
Galactic Alliance 3rd Sector Fleet
Aboard Sword 3
Assigned Super Carrier Starchild II

{Locks disengaged.} The magnetic clamps designed for the escort frigates released with a loud zzssss-snap that echoed throughout the specially designed hangar.

​

Captain Mu La Flaga sat, arms crossed, in his command chair as Sword 3 lurched and fell from its place in the Starchild's belly. For a moment a sensation not unlike falling rolled through his body and the strange feeling of passing through an environmental shield caused the hair on his arms to stand up under his uniform. What a mess this had been, though so far as he'd been briefed they were expecting about the amount of resistance as was expected. He didn't know how things on the ground were going, but he only hoped things were better down there than they were up here. They had their orders. No heroics. Unfortunately for the Admiral, that's all La Flaga knew.

"Captain we're clear," shouted one of the bridge officers.

"You know the orders then. Launch Cabal and Wild Squadrons." A few seconds later both squadrons were showing up on his tactical as green and they were out in the open. "Move into escort formation, we've received orders to meet up with a couple of corvettes and provide some fire support to the wonderful folks up at the Lylek. Full power to engines and maneuvering thrusters, laser cannon and ion teams are to fire at will." He barked out orders rapid-fire like a machine gun. This was were La Flaga thrived.

Muunilinst Orbit
Galactic Alliance 3rd Sector Fleet
222nd Nova Corps - 81st Legion
Tortuga Company - Riot Squad
Assigned: Battlecruiser Agni Kai

Seargent Vega gripped the ceiling handholds tight as the ship rocked from the turbulent combat outside. The Redeemers were putting up a hell of a fight with the corvettes. But they were smaller craft and had no issue picking off fighters and transports. He'd already gotten reports that at least two other squads had been taken out, leaving them at 2/3 strength for this op, and if the inside was as packed with goons as the stars were well...He wondered if the Halcyon Commandos would even make a difference.

"Eta one minute. Fighters are securing a hangar." Came a call over their general com from the pilot. Vega looked over at one of the Marines who was tapping his foot and looking around nervously. He flinched as the ship rocked form incoming flak cannon fire.

"I don't like these cans either," he checked his HUD for the name, "Ryan," he finished gracefully, "I'd much rather die with a gun in my hands." But that wasn't always a marine's job. Somtimes it was to be just another number, something for the enemy to shoot at, while the other would-be heroes take care of business.