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

[Lord Venari]

Objective: Rid Harnaidan of its pests.
Allies: Vallaro Kindall Leon Amun TSE & Allies
Enemies: Ryv Lucien Dooku Dorian Sicarrio NIO, GA & Allies
Equipment: In Bio
Dark Side March, Sam Kim mix
Notes: Conversing for Leon Amun bc he might not be able to get his side of the convo in / he gave permission.

---

Through the twin tendrils of dark hungering power, the Exiled Prince charged unflinching, meeting the Disciple of Animus head on. His draining power uncontested, the strength of his enemies satiated the living void as the carcasses of the hunt nourished a beast. Still the valiant Prince stood his ground, his ornate blade struck as lightning before the thunder of his reactivated lightsaber. The indomitable will of a hungering void clashed against the raging inferno, a duel of fates. Each score of the dancing crimson onslaught was reciprocated in kind, a scalding slash through his robes cauterizing flesh on impact, the shattering of armor under the strain of the Prince's soul-steel blade. Diametrically opposed beings stood as both unstoppable force and immovable object. A rancor's roar pitched from Venari's open maw as each strike only served to amplify his anger, his frustration that such incompetence be allowed to exist. The man had stripped away all the slightest morsels of reason until all that remained was hunger and darkness. The air around them carried the whispered breath of the Jedi Code. Feeble affirmations incapable of bringing the Jedi the peace they longed for, for they stood in the presence of the Sith, the Sith who knew that peace was in all ways, a lie. Hunger surged forth from Venari's core and demanded more, always more.

The roiling hunger saw Venari's crimson weapon collide against the Prince's own saber, sheer plasmatic power clashed again and again yet no wounds beyond a cut or glancing nick got through until the abyss guided his blade overhead. Behind the floating arsenal's extensive barrage one final avalanche of force enhanced might burst through the Lucien's defense and brought the Exiled Prince to a knee. Still more. Venari needed more; his trio of crimson blades assailed the young man's crippled barrier of blades.

Beneath his helm the Sith Lord muttered, "I shall see those chains broken. Only then shall you be free." Venari raised his weapon high once more. One way or another, the Sith Lord would see the Prince of Serenno fall.

He simply hadn't foreseen it happening so literally.

Before the cascading strike could meet his foe, the bridge gave out under the combined damage of the Exile's torpedo like attack, Vallaro's rain of fire and the Sword of the Jedi's quick handiwork. The structure crumbled into a pit of debris and an even larger cloud of dust and detritus. Within, the swollen bogan power coursing through Venari's form settled for the Sith knew the duel had ceased. Battle ready muscles released their tight grip and Firrerreon genetics saw his wounds slowly heal. The Jedi had fled into the city.

At the Sith Lord's side Vallaro's thrusters died down as Venari's faithful hunter landed. The two traded a glance before Venari spoke. "We'll let them go for now. One of them is... interesting. Fate has temped him with the ushering power of his emotion. They've already taken a beating. If they survive, he may yet avail himself his chains," he said before leaping to the lower levels.

Emerging from the towering stage of their duel, the Sith Lord accessed his team's personal channel, "Vod, we're wrapping up things on our end. We'll be exiting the plaza and rendezvousing with the legion. Meet us as soon as possible."

Ahead, Venari's task force held positions on the perimeter of the western avenue. A Sentinel jogged over to the Sith Lord and his attendant as the two approached the remaining squads and continued up the street.

"My Lord, Centurion Zapal has led the legion through a rallying force of NIO and Alliance troops. He's awaiting-"

"GET SKINNY!" Another of the legionnaires shouted as a missile collided with the battered tower further down the street behind them. With raised hands the Sith Lord willed a visible purple aura into being, a force barrier surrounding the squad who turned to face the tower collapsing in on itself. Chunks of duracrete and stone pelted the shield then fell to the pavement leaving the soldiers within unharmed. There the unit held as yet another detritus layer settled over the city streets.

"As you were saying Sentinel," Venari spoke stone-faced and calm.

A few coughs preceded the soldier's reply, "yes, yes my Lord. Centurion Zapal has carved a path down the southern front and is prepared to pincer the NIO-Alliance forward offensive. Tribune Waldar has been coordinating and awaits your orders."

"Very good Sentinel. Rally your unit, we're moving out."

"Not without me you're not," Leon boisterously bellowed.

"What took you?" The Sith Lord teased.

"Baby cakes tried to turn not one but two tricks. First had me going a moment, the second - not so much. He too fled under the might of the Murderhawke Mandalorian and the undefeated champ has better things to do than chase cowards."

"So the lot of them survived, very well. The day is not over yet."

The Sith Lord spun about, and flanked by his two hunters as well as his Xalmiris pet, led the unit toward Zapal's position. With another comms transmission he connected with Waldar. "Tribune, have Zapal commence the flank. My unit shall rally with his force and support the pincer. I believe it time we wedge these rebels from their positions and cast them out of our land," he commanded.

"Yes my Lord, I'll route an aerial asset to pave the way."

"Well done, Tribune. I'll contact you soon."

With the last of his immediate commands out, the Sith Lord pressed down the street, further into the heart of Harnaidan, for the void still hungered and their enemies had provided such a wide variety of dishes to choose from.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

​

Location: Muunilinst
Objective: Defend The Empire | Kill All Enemies
Equipment:

• Hinged Double-bladed Sith Lightsaber
• Saziliebm-type Imperious Battle Armor
• Jen'Shuk'Orok - The Dark Crushgaunt

Tags: Allyson Locke | Wyatt Morga
Music: Kylo Ren Suite

​

A blinding flash spread out from between the Emperor and the Grandmaster, followed quickly by a cacophonous roar as the space between them exploded with such tremendous force that both combatants were flung in opposite directions from the sheer power. The Emperor skidded along his back, his armor shedding sparks as the metal ground against the hard uneven cobbled ground below. He did not stay on his back for long, transferring the momentum of his fall into a turn onto his stomach followed by a twist of his body up and over until he landed on his feet again. Bushels of fire still burned around him, spread out in every direction from the explosion which scattered them. They illuminated the ruined causeway in mystical blue light, a stark contrast to the other colors which wrestled for domination. ​

​

He barely had a moment to compose himself before he was struck from behind, an azure beam of light slicing across the back of his armor and sizzling what cloth fabric still clung to his person. The Emperor growled in annoyance, a deep guttural roar that reverberated in the depths of his throat before he was struck again. This time, however, what struck him caused such pain that another roar burst forth from his lips, utterly alien and unnatural to any sound he had made thus far. The air around where the light-infused arrow had struck him seemed to writhe with excessive heat, the entirety of the Emperor's being recoiling and convulsing from such an attack. Though little damage was done to his armor or even his physical body, his spirit recoiled in anger and fear from the intrusion of his most hated foe.​

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The Light Side of the Force.​

​

That which he had consistently decried as pitiful and impotent, which he had dedicated the majority of his life to eradicating, had at last struck a worthwhile blow to the Emperor of the Sith. Rolling forward and away from Allyson, the Emperor rounded on her ferociously. No longer was his face the mask of aristocratic arrogance, the haughty veneer by which he presented himself as to the rest of the galaxy. No, that had slipped away in the fleeting moments following the Jedi Master's successful strike. In its place was the true face of the Dark Lord, contorted into a fearsome visage of rage and hatred.​

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The countenance of an animal, a beast barely shackled by the manacles of civilization. ​

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A monster.​

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"Ý̸̢͜͝ǫu҉̴͘͜͞,͝͏̸" his voice rumbled out from between cracked lips, the single word swollen with such malignance as something darker and more ancient wove its unnatural bass just beneath the surface of his own words. "Y̷͘o҉̵̀u͏̵̶́͘ ҉ḑ̨҉á̀͠͠r͟͡͏́ę̸̀ ̨͘̕t̶́́͟ơ̡ ̴҉̷͠ş̴̵̡͝t̢͘͟r҉҉i͠҉̛́k̕͡ę̀͡͝ ͢m̸̡̡̀͟e̴̴҉́͠ ͏̵͏̀w͏̀͝i̵t̡̛͘͝h̴̀͘͝҉ ̧͢͜͞͝s̢͟͠ų̴͜c̀͞ḩ͢͠ ̶̀͘í̴̵̧m҉̵̴͟p̢͘ư̴d͏͜͠e͜͜n̵̸͝c̨͞e͘͡?҉̴̀͠ ̴̨̡͜͡I̢̕ ́͜ẁ̧i̸̵͟҉͠l̶̡̢͢ĺ̡̢͝ ̀͜ǵ̶̀n͏̀a̕͟͞w̨͡ ͞͝͝o̡̕͘n̵̴̕͜͝ ̨̀y̵̢͏o̴͟u̴̸̡̕r̨̨̛ ̡͞͏͘b̢ò̢͠͠͞n̵͘ȩ̶̸͝s̛͝!̵́͟͠" He lunged forward, bounding across the empty space like a force of nature, each mighty step shaking the ground beneath both of their feet. He reached out to his side, and like a faithful companion, his lightsaber leaped into his hand from where it had fallen. The twin blades ignited simultaneously as the Emperor launched a furious tirade of slashes and swipes at the smaller Jedi Master, his every movement further amplified by the Force to be blazingly swift. Though the veneer of civility had been shattered, the Emperor still fought with all of his ruthlessness honed to sharp precision by control and discipline. Though he appeared a beast, he still fought as brutally as ever without compromising all that he had learned over the decades.​

​

Each strike was a killing blow, each one meant to eviscerate and maim, to destroy that which had even dared to cause him pain! For so long he had been absent of sensation, bereft of feeling in his every extremity. The rituals by which he had unnaturally extended his life had come with it such agony deep within his soul, transcending the physical plane, that he had become numb to everything but that which eternally sustained his existence. He could not know pain nor pleasure as a normal man might experience it. ​

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Until today.​

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Today he felt pain in his very spirit.​

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And he hated it.​

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Hate.​

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Hate.​

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Hate.​

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Every atom of his being.​

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H A T E.​

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

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> OBJECTIVE : Harnaidan Get Out Alive Keep Them Busy Dying Hold On
> THEMATIC : One Man At A Time
> 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

---

---

Lyra was weightless as the city rubble disappeared beneath her. The saber was overlooked, left behind a testament to what it took to take down the colossus. In these last moments of consciousness she had left. The commander recalled being hoisted up into the arms of the unknown soldier, her head hitting blastplate armor as the trooper ran for both their lives. If she had any discipline in the force perhaps she would have suffered more-this numb feeling washing over her though, was more then welcome. The frag had drawn a line in the sand for them, in the retreat the woman paid one last look to the volunteers dead in the road; desecrated. This is what Sith did, and the last dregs of her energy dwindled with disgust.

Better run, better not stop-If he finds us, he’ll kill us..

The helmet of the trooper who had been the last to stand with her had been marked by a diamond. Those kind of details don’t dawn upon one until much later... She had known the sign, he was no one in the grand scheme of things. Simmoes, and Lyra mourned..of course that fool had tried to put up a fight. Her eyes burned from the blood and sweat, buildings blurring before she let them fall shut; resting, slipping away. Each step the trooper took she felt, and what remained of her rendered limb was cradled to her chest. Appw’rii and herself..they were the only ones left from Folende now, everyone else was dead and gone. The rest was just a body count, lost to history. They had been just a bunch of backworld industro rats, far from home shaking in the transport on that day from what she remembered; the bloodied frontier their destination.

Why had they come back for her? Why did they need to? Who ever these boys were..they were still kicking. Dorn something..Her ears rang as the thermal imploded, flinching blindly. All she had were these troopers now, and she tried to hang on.

---

<”Dorn-Two this is Genesis Two, we read you! Crazy shavits! You’re toeing a ground zero zone. Evacuate immediately, airstrike inbound, change course for eastbound when you hit the avenue. No one can not reach you at your location. I repeat, airstrike ETA five minutes! We’re tracking you, but get out of there!“>

Nima Appw'rii traded a look with Cinn after the comms had fizzled out, mismatched rows of troopers in retreat up the desolate road; intervals of squads taking up the flank to cover fire. Chest heaving for air as she ducked into the neck of the alleyway, taking stock of what was left of the Company. The woman had been baffled when the rogue squad had set out, even if a sliver of hope had traveled with them-they had taken their lives into their own hands. Please, please get her out.. Don’t fucking trip-don’t get legged.

..Lyra was on her right, blasters whizzed past them, nicking and hitting the dirt around them. Appw’rii let her feet guide her, she knew where the alley was but she didn’t dare take her eye of the-a stray bolt caught her. Her leg..it burned up her left side, knee buckling. A scream distorted from behind her helmet, crumpling-shot down halfway to the rendezvous.

“Hit, leg, hit!” She had wailed, fighting through the pain flailing with her weapon trying to still shoot.

Lyra appeared at the edges of her vision. Getting a hand under the strap of her cuirass; yanking hard, throwing her weight back to drag the woman out, a shadow descending upon her as Simmoes appeared. Grasping her other arm and dragging her out. They could not leave anyone behind..

Appw’rii knocked on her helmet, trying to shake her guilt. They couldn't leave them. She had let ten volunteers cover the retreat, knowing the chip on Simmoes shoulder was too great. He had been the first to speak up, he had hope they could get out. The walking disaster had more faith then her and the Commander combined, how had Lyra even survived that encounter?

Force be damned.

Cinn wasn’t the type to gloat but Appw’rii knew he wasn’t happy and the Lieutenant was looking at her from across the road; waving her down. A bitter thought rearing it's ugly head in the back of her mind-That should be their men incoming, but they both had been bound under orders for better or worse. No. It was their men incoming, Genesis or not and she dropped the burnt powercell at her feet; reloading the rifle. Troopers shouted as they took up guard on whatever cover from debris on the road.

“You all heard the Dorn-Two boys, Commander’s inbound! We hold up here! Take up the buildings, both sides move!” the woman’s voice echoed, metallic noise skewing the voice projector. Cinn gave her the thumbs up and with one motion she flagged the attention to the housing complexes. They’d meet up with the spearhead after it was all said and done, “focus fire, don’t give the S-IMP son of a bitches any quarter! Cinn get them on the map and advise their course, comm links get us Burning Trio on the line!”

The rangers scattered across the road under the orders, if the Commander wasn’t dead yet then they’d put up a fight. Hard kicks and shoulders were thrown in doors as blaster fire burnt through the air around them. The Company tore apart the homes and busting out windows as they set up shop above the street, hailing plasma and tibanna back at the Legionaries on their tails.

Appw’rii pulled up the house breach as the wounded were funneled in, paying little mind to the home they were destroying. The Lieutenant Cinn as he made himself at home in the dusty kitchen, map and communications team flooding around him.

<”Dorn-Two, we have you on the radar. Don’t push through the intersection, S-IMP’s are moving in. Get off the street, cut through the next building on your left, there is an alleyway that will spit you out on the avenue just above them. You’ll be under fire, but it’s a straight shot from there to us.”>

Appw’rii gave him a smack on the shoulder as she passed, catching clips of his reports to the inbound squad as she stormed up the stairs to grab a vantage point. There would be no top evacs, the homes in this sector had no roof access. Pushing aside a trooper, entering one of the street side rooms, she slid into the blasted window. Leaning out and sending a burst down the street way. The comms were lighting up and the Captain switched between channels as Air Response made contact.

Inbound.

Appw’rii breathed a sigh of relief, the battle echoing around them. On the road a heavy repeat of red blaster fire began to chip away at their cover, eating through a row of windows across the street. Plaster and dirt flying,smoke drifting through the air as they dug in. The spotter called out heavier weapons moving in, and the Captain adjusted the vision on the intersection. The S-IMP’s phantom profiles weaving out of the buildings to the intersection, taking up their last bulwark. She had stopped seeing them as their brothers the moment their boots had hit the ground, it had taken a bug on Aeten II and an ugly dose of reality. They had all made their choices, and she wasn't going back home under any banner but an true Imperial's..The woman laid down a burst of fire on a black clad hostile’s helm just poking out; dropping him. Good luck fuckers.

“Anyone with a Jackal start pumping out those grenades! Someone get a pin down on that repeater,” the Captain barked. Slapping a hand on the communications button, she leaned back out firing down the roadway. Eyes searching the alleyways, leg shaking impatient for a sight in on the rogue squad. A screech on the air signalling the approach of a TIE detachment, the fireworks inbound.

<”Dorn-Two if you’re still moving, hold on. Air strike is coming. We’ve patched your coordinates. Air Response is hailing in our next available bird. ETA is seven minutes! Keep your eyes on the sky, when you see the bird they’ll cover you, just get on that ship! We’ll keep up the fight!">

 

[Ellie Mors]

D A N C E _ I N _ T H E _ D A R K

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

Denial. Belligerence. Panic.

Vulnerability.

Every shaking syllable, every denial, the words carried the same pain they did a decade ago - so much of it she could see in them, the struggle to stay together despite working apart. So powerful, their bond, and yet she knew how it would end - how it only ever could end. Stronger than any force in the galaxy, more powerful than the force itself, and yet it would succumb, as it had for her, under the weight of their own expectations of the other. There were many she could have blamed for the separation, the anxiety, the sleepless nights and the years of pain that had followed, but as these two would find out - be it tomorrow or ten years from now - there was no one to blame but the two dancing to their own, very different, tunes.

It was the very same strike that sent the blonde reeling back which brought the Sith back to reality, pulling back at her urge to get back at the woman that had left her a cancer-ridden husk on death's door; and it was this that acted as the final straw to pull her partner back into the fray in a much more ferocious rage than the one he'd acted with impulse on to run her through in their initial meeting aboard the Miid ro'ik. It was the momentum of their engagement that had driven her to drive through the motions, her blade moving down at an angle towards the woman's neck in an almost textbook Sai cha - a decapitation technique - but, rather than finding purchase in the soft flesh of Loske's neck, it was instead the blue glow of the man's saber which clashed against her left.

There was the briefest of pauses as her serpentine eyes moved from the woman's kneeling figure to the man that had came at her from the side, whatever sneer she may have been wearing replaced by skepticism - she could see the darkness rolling off of him, like a living cloud that sought to entangle him into a web of fate that had dragged her back into the black pit of suffering it originated from. The moment was gone as soon as it had came, and both of her sabers were engaged with keeping his one occupied - his rapid staccatos, unpredictable and unorthodox strikes with no grace or connection between one and the next, making up for his lack of experience, the sign of true skill in a bladesman.

In a duel, a real duel - a duel such as this - there was no set of rules to follow but one's own moral code, and in the heat of their exchange neither of the two - Jedi nor Sith - restrained themselves. Were he a more orthodox adherent to a discipline or form he may have found himself burdened with a much greater disadvantage than a mere separation of skill - a separation which bore no importance when blows were unpredictable and those involved had nothing to lose. A master of the blade might know restraint, might subconsciously hold themselves back if they expected their opponent to be unable to bridge their gap in skill, but it only takes an amateur to disregard their own safety and a single lucky strike to turn the tides of battle. Like her, Maynard threw every ounce of his being into the blade - his darkness like an oxygen to the flame of his passion, and like her his lack of predictability and total ferocity left little room for exploitation.

Unlike her, however, he had a tangible weakness to exploit.

Though graceful, there was little connection between the movements of the saber in her right hand and the one in her left, and as he thrust to her left she parried up with her right - pushing against his saber with her left to try to force an opening, then he would simply change direction and force her to bat at his blade with her right to effectively undo whatever small amounts of progress she had made. All the while they traded blows, though, they swayed to and fro - feet shuffling, as any with experience using a blade might have been able to explain - and it was here that her skill, her ingenuity, was able to give her the edge. It wasn't he that she needed to hurt in order to emerge victorious, it was the push of her right foot in the direction of his partner and the domination of the very elements to push the ground beneath their feet up like a spike towards her chest that would either draw his attention away or force him to succumb to the corruption that now dominated her.

 

[Hand of Retribution]

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// Narrating // Commander Rive / Darth Bellum ​

// Location // Bridge Network B​

// Engaging // N/A ​

// Nearby // Amur / Hunter Blackburn / Darth Assimilus / Darth Kados ​

​

The Gen'dai felt a foreign object being shoved into the gaping wound made by the Sith Knight's lightsaber, his muscle cords wrapping around and sliding the spherical device into his body, his internal muscles shifting the explosive device along as it was compressed and encased in numerous layers. The sweet sounds of bones cracking and snapping filled the closest thing the Gen'dai had to ears as he felt the fear-stricken the Sith in his grasp. For all they touted as the most feared force in the Galaxy, the fear of death reminding them how fleeting their lives were. He'd hold her up by her shattered arm, watching the female dangle in front of his face as he spoke, " Squeal for me wretched pig. "​

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The Gen'dai would not be indulged for long as the Sith Knight was quick to act, using their saber to cut their arm free from Rive as they darted away. Quick-witted with a sharp tongue; admirable qualities indeed. The Gen'dai held the severed arm in his hand as he raised it to his helmet as if smelling her burnt flesh and blood. He had his prey's scent and would pursue her like a bloodhound as he watched her vanish into the blizzard in retreat. He paused as he tensed up for a moment, suddenly realizing he had taken a thermal detonator into his body. ​

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======​

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A violet blade would fly through the air as it cleanly decapitated the Gen'dai's head, severing it from his body as both the saber and armored head of Rive flew back into the blizzard. Mere moments later the Gen'dai's headless body would contort and writhe before becoming instantly vaporized by the thermal detonator, a flash of light subsiding to reveal the atomized form of the Gen'dai. The violet-colored saber would return into the armored grip of the Anzati general as the severed head unceremoniously rolled along the ground, Vexen's cold voice speaking, " Pull yourself together Rive...The battle is far from over. Our war has only just begun... " The Gen'dai's head seemed to quiver as sinewy muscle cords began to slither out from his head, regenerating at a rapid pace, but still slowly considering that the Gen'dai had lost nearly the entirety of his body. It would take quite a while before the Gen'dai would have a proper form to fight with again.​

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The Anzati strode alongside the Galactic Marines that remained, while the Sith Imperials were turning back to retreat, likely to cross the bridge before whatever charges the Sith Empire had put in place went off on the secondary bridge network. Vexen would raise his saber up as he commanded his troops, rallying them to battle, " Press the advantage. " The distant sound of an explosion was heard on the main bridge network, the charges that were initially placed by his Dragoons being detonated as any Sith Imperial forces unfortunate enough to get caught midway through the retreat were suddenly sent tumbling into the abyss. The early detonation of the main bridge would likely leave the Sith Imperials fighting there confused and surprised, with many still trapped on the New Imperial Order's half of it becoming overwhelmed. ​

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Half of the Nexu Company dedicated to maintaining its position on the main bridge would move the plasma projectors into place at the end of the destroyed bridge, activating an energy bridge as a fresh wave of troops pressed to assault the main bridge network. Vexen would lift his free hand up, reaching out with the Force as he plucked Amur from the edge of the bridge they were clinging onto with their remaining arm, throwing them out towards the Sith Imperials as she was sent across the bridge. Death was far too easy of an escape for the Sith of the Empire. They would be taught to fear, and understand that their Empire had made them weak.​

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[Allyson Locke]

//: LOCATION //: Harnaidan, Munnilinst
//: MISSION //: Survive
//: EQUIPMENT //: Signature, Lightsaber, Energy Bow Arrows
//: TARGET //: Darth Carnifex
//: PARTNER //: Wyatt Morga
//: BOND //: Ryv

You are the chosen light, you are my love, and my hope for a brighter future.
​

To much of her surprise, the arrow sunk into his armor, the tip of the projectile released the force light imbuement into whatever it hit. Allyson pulled her hand back, stumbling slightly back as the man - the creature turned to face her. Where his youthful face once was, a twisted enigma of the Darkside stared back at her. It was a void of only hate, and it seethed off his body in droves. Allyson couldn't escape the feeling of dread and the sense of hatred coming from him. Fear shook her until she felt the warmth of the light side as it coursed through her. The power flowed through the blade worn on her person, along with the connection with Ryv Karis. Her heart swelled, feeling something different from the Jedi Knight. He blossomed as a beacon of light within the Force, chosen being to be Her warrior against the onslaught of the Dark. Allyson saw him for more than the man that had given her a reason to believe in something again. He was the passion and the light that flowed through her. Never before had she felt the light side as she did now, it burned through her being and gave her the strength she needed.

The ion blade returned to the Emperor's side, Allyson's moment to adjust was minimal. Allyson stood her ground, shifting her weight and refusing to run from the monster that chased her down. Her strength came from the Force, hope, and the future she sought after. The sound of the clashing ion blades echoed and sparked, blue against red as Allyson struggled to bear the weight of the onslaught. Taking a chance, she drew the dagger that glowed with the power of Ashla, using it to help in her defense.

Each blow from the Dark Lord made came with the power she had never seen before. The Corellian defended, taking a step back with every bone-breaking strike, and her blades moved to defend herself. His hate was suffocating, but she needed to continue to hold on till an opening appeared. As the red blade slammed into the Master's defenses, Allyson's muscles and bones jarred, trying to keep the blade from crashing into her frame. Left to right and up and down, each motion moved quickly, and fatigue was soon coming. Each breath Allyson took was a struggle; she gasped for air and continued to react almost too late at times to protect herself. Unlike other Jedi, she didn't master a form, a dance to defend herself. Reactions were her only play, as she could feel the hum of the blades buzzing by her armor's metal.

Her back against the wall, Allyson looked up as she pushed against one of his devastating attacks, the glow of the weapons glowed off their faces. She looked at him, staring into the abyss of his hate. Finally, she felt the release she needed. The Emperor was nothing more than a man who sacrificed to much of his humanity to become the all-powerful being he was today. Despite his sacrifices for power, in the end, he was just a man. Her fear dissipated, dissolving into nothing but pity for him. His story would be ending soon, and the Jedi Master would be there to witness it.

Nothing lives forever, not even the darkness.

Allyson knew she only had one option, the armor she wore took the brunt of the incoming blow, her lightsaber protecting her overhead. Making a definite step forward, the Jedi Master focused the Force, giving her body the ability to push forward beyond its natural limits. The tip of the blessed dagger aimed to stab the Dark Lord in his stomach.

If she could kill him now, it would be over. Yet she knew the dark side would not fall so easily. If anything, she needed to find a way to escape and live another day until they could kill him and bring balance to the Galaxy.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

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Location: Muunilinst
Objective: Defend The Empire | Kill All Enemies
Equipment:

• Hinged Double-bladed Sith Lightsaber
• Saziliebm-type Imperious Battle Armor
• Jen'Shuk'Orok - The Dark Crushgaunt

Tags: Allyson Locke | Wyatt Morga
Music: Kylo Ren Suite

​

Their duel progressed at an ever-increasing rate, the Dark Side and the Light Side throwing through each of them. He was a whirlwind of blades, a force of nature made manifest and fueled by nothing other pure and unadulterated hate. She was a steadfast bulwark, adamant in her conviction and unwavering in her defense of those less fortunate than herself. Two polar opposites of the Force, so deeply intuned with their respective manifestations that they appeared like two supernovas of contrasting energy in the Force around them. ​

​

They were drawn to one another, their blades seeking out one another in a flurry of attack and counterattack. The burning agony from the shard of Light that had stabbed into his spirit still lingered, driving him to ever more ferocious intensity with every passing second. He spun his twin crimson blade in a circle, knocking aside her azure beam in an attempt to cut her legs out from under her. But her weapon snapped back quicker than it had been knocked askew, stopping his blade dead in its tracks and then retaliating with a lightning-fast jab towards his center of mass. He deflected that with a flourish of his weapon, pressing the battle further as they danced and twirled across the battlefield. Artillery shells explode in the air around them as the fighting in the city grew more intense, more desperate.​

​

In was all in the Dark Lord's periphery as he growled in concert with another slash, this one connecting firmly with the Jedi's own weapon. There they held the saberlock, sparks flying in every direction from their conjoined sabers. They stared into one another's eyes, the hate in his growing ever more intense as the molten halos of his irises burned ever brighter. Movement near her side drew the Dark Lord's gaze downward, his eyes widening in what could be construed as fear as the Jedi withdrew a blade from her side and moved to stick it right in his belly.​

​

Time slowed as their movements played out in sequence.​

​

The blade edged closer towards him, his body reacting violently in the presence of such a blessed weapon. His right hand, which held the bottom portion of his saberstaff, pulled that section of the saber up as the magnetic connector which held the hinged weapon erect was disengaged. The blade moving up was too slow to parry or deflect the dagger as it neared.​

​

But it did move up like a viper's bite towards the joint connecting her hand and arm at the wrist, where the phrik plates didn't cover the bodysuit underneath for mobility. ​

 

[Vaulkhar]

// EXECUTOR //
// MUUNILIST // ASSAULT ON MYGEETO // RIP AND TEAR //
// MR. RAGER //
// LIGHTSABER //
// Imperial Warlord Zovesa // Taeli Raaf

---

---

Vaulkhar's assault continued with unbroken vigor, his vermilion saber carrying the weight of an avalanche down upon the Sith Lady's defense. The lightsaber was the fallen Jedi's one true passion. Rather than embark in the reoccurring quest for power, as many other Sith and Dark Jedi favored, often through the magics or alchemical means, he dedicated his training entirely to honing himself into an unstoppable killing machine in the art of martial combat. It saw him mastering a multitude of lightsaber styles, the first of them being Makashi. His first master instilled a respect for the duelist's style, one that carried Vaulkhar through more than one battlefield. The firsthand experience provided the insight necessary to press forward with confidence, the fallen Jedi practically walking in a straight line as his blade flashed out towards Taeli Raaf. Makashi's intricate blade-work often saw swift and elegant endings to a duel, usually after a perfectly executed parry. The devastating counterattack most often saw an opponent unable to continue a fight, either through being disarmed or outright killed.​

​

The Executor focused his offensive on breaking her guard, each of his strikes measured and well-placed. Unfortunately, the Dark Council proved herself worthy of her title as she defended herself, backpedaling away from the overwhelming show of power. Each mighty sweep of his saber found itself turned away by an expert display of swordsmanship, momentarily rivaling his own. Vaulkhar couldn't help but smile behind his mask, his lips twisting at an unnatural angle the moment he felt the surge of energy once more called to the sorceress's beckoning words of power. His eyes narrowed, and he stepped back, opting out of direct engagement with the Sith Lady during her show of mystical mastery. What anger burned within him died away, replaced instead by a sense of interest. Having never witnessed the creation of such a creature before, the Bastard indulged his idle curiosity, watching its formation from the flurry around them. When the mirror-shade finally turned its attention to the unmoving form of Vaulkhar, his crimson gaze narrowed.​

​

"Interesting," Vaulkhar mused to himself, eyeing the Force construct. He stepped forward, his weapon sweeping across its chest in an experimental swing. When the construct deflected the strike, he shifted on his back foot and slid to his right, avoiding a riposte from his artificial opponent. Another attack from his vermilion blade saw the mirror entity defend itself, a twist of the wrist guiding the fallen Jedi's lightsaber out. With a now exposed chest, the mirror creature pressed inward, a swift thrust of the saber staff arching towards Vaulkhar's chest. His free hand shot up and locked onto the weapon, the crushgaunt built into the cybernetic limb locking into place on the weapon's elongated hilt. Without slowing, Vaulkhar mirrored the mirror's initial advance, stepping within its guard. His saber flashed out, cutting through the outstretched limb, before swinging back to catch the opposite leg of the mirror being. He released the now dismembered ice-limb and stepped back. "A replica, no matter how well constructed, will never match the original," he passed the lightsaber off to his cybernetic hand and pushed out towards the icy being. The force once more bent to his will, following the controlled movement to impact the construct, shattering it into thousands of small pieces across the bridge.​

​

Vaulkhar's crimson gaze shifted away from his now fallen opponent, once more seeking out the two dueling masters.​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Muunilinst // Harnaidan // JTSP
Maynard Treicolt // Galactic Alliance Rangers - Raider Squadron // Ellie Mors
No Time to Die​

Her gloved hand was sticky with blood and remnants of sizzling skin, the wound being concealed beneath the self repairing armour. It was doing little to actually remedy the wound. The blood wasn’t clotting properly and continued to soak through the nano fabric. Her lungs strained, and she wasn’t even sure if one was punctured or not. With her helmet down, she couldn’t read an update on her vitals, though she could faintly hear the alarms from her neckline speakers.

Her breath was ragged in the moment of reprieve she bought for herself by kneeling out of the way. Overconfidence and confusion had brought her here to the ground. Still, there was some subconscious teaching that influenced the decision to take herself out of the fight for a moment. In the very faltering, there was strength -- thus the Jedi Masters had instructed her: when you are attacked, fall. Let your opponent’s power buffet you as a strong wind topples you in the grass. In time, they will expend themselves, and you will still be upright.

That teaching didn’t give any suggestion for what to do when the opponent turned into a lawn mower, and her eyes widened in abject horror as the magenta blade came swiping in toward her. Her blood soaked hand moved away to react, weakly looking to draw her blade up and protect herself. She was too slow.

Maynard was not.

Barking out a shrill objection, Maynard lurched forward and injected his blade to catch the deathblow from Alekto and push her back and away from the wounded animal that was the blonde padawan. Loske’s breath hitched. The decisiveness of his movements countered any hesitation that had existed before. The weight of their bond… in confusion and that fear Alekto so kindly pointed out.. was reduced. It was weightless. It wasn’t gone, but it was conveniently muted.

She subjected herself to a thick, reeling moment of realization as a chill ran through her, and it felt as though her blood congealed –– in this perceivably bleak and livid reaction, the darkside was much with the Knight.

“No, don’t.. don’t do this..” she murmured more to herself than anything with a grimace. This was her fault. In an instant of domineering confidence, she’d betrayed his trust and compensation was coming to play. The feelings in this room were not how they’d operated as a team before.

Loske wilted, her panicked gaze tracked his movements, watching helplessly as she sucked in a pained breath and bolstered herself, pressing the heel of her hand against the torn area of her chest -- as if willing it to seal. The stims pumping through her blood mitigated the scorching pain of the compounded lightning burns and saber scar and she prepared to ready herself and get back into the fight. Maynard was doing the same thing she’d done, busying Alekto in a deadly dance and pushing her away into the bowels of the chamber to reduce the likelihood of her escape.

This..last time this had happened Ryv had been here with them. He’d made the call to prioritize his friends over the mission, and call the retreat. He’d blamed himself for not being able to protect them, and she’d pfff’d his concerns later on Tython. Now here she was finding her own inability to protect them from falling into the same pattern of concern and anger and it was hampering their ability to succeed.

Alekto had wedged herself so deeply into Loske’s mind that she was certain the Sith had made it to her stomach, and was making her nauseous. Had Alekto plotted this from the start of this engagement? No one was so infallible –– surely she couldn’t know or understand everything. Perhaps they were all best guesses and their own projections were playing perfectly into her scaly hands.

<Jambo incoming. Reporting the building is secured. Do you need backup?>

Loske’s face was contorted, reflecting her spirit. Her lips pulled back in a grimace, teeth grinding as she shifted her weight to prepare and stand. Beneath her, something also shifted and grinded. The expectation of the physical ground warping and shaping at the will of someone was beyond Loske’s experience. At this point, she was almost standing and the purposeful spear that rose from the crust of the building jut out at a speed that didn’t even let her trip backward to get out of the way. It made purchase, piercing through any attempts to block it.

The trauma to her respiratory area was as painful as it was shocking.

<Blue, Outrider - do you copy?>

The linear rock formation held her in place, and she squirmed in protest.

Through puffs that tried to reclaim the easy inhale-exhale she’d taken for granted, she moved to tap her neck and open the comm channel with her bloodied hand. Her voice was smaller than she'd intended it to be: <Copy. We need back up.>

Maynard needed backup. It’s not that he couldn’t handle this situation, she had the confidence that he could best Alekto once again -- but for herself. Loske was pretty much down for the count now, or at least not able to immediately jump back in to help him. Again, that question begged in the back of her mind: How did this end.

Pathetically, the hand that held her saber moved to saw through the rock structure and cut it down in height. With exertion that only continued to strain the impacted area. After a few breathless back-and-forths, the contained plasma cut through the layers of duracrete and she fell backward.

The mortal realization that sustaining this was not going to be survivable for a long period of time dawned on her. On her back, and looking up at the gaping hole they’d punched in the floor moments earlier, she was greeted with the pleasant visuals of long ropes in sequence looping over the edges of the floors and down to the ground. Soon, the silhouettes of the rangers slid down the chords and dropped to the ground, their weapons aimed and easily deciphering who was the bad guy downstairs. Loske could see some tell-tale hand gestures indicate they should carry themselves forward, and light up the back of the room to provide cover fire for Outrider and increase the pressure on the Sith woman.

The AI of the suit was reporting drops in blood pressure. She gasped and struggled to push herself up. Her abdomen crunched under the effort, and the movement increased the blood flow to the wound and it began to gather and try to overflow at the edges. For all the bacta, stims, and nanoparticles attempting to work in her favour - the rock lodged in her chest was blocking the remedy. Loske disengaged her blade, it was fairly useless to her now. On one elbow, she reached to try and dislodge it. Maneuvering it between her tissue increased the agony she felt, and in that moment she preferred the cauterization from the original blow.

The intrusive concrete put pressure in all the wrong areas. Her lungs were full of newly punctured vessels that were starting to leak into her airways. She coughed and the taste of metal pooled on her tongue.

“Ah, feth..” she murmured through precious breaths and her head lulled back, keeping on one elbow and trying a hand at dislodging the jagged edge of the stone once more so the suit could get to work and attempt to administer some level of medical support.

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective: Hold the Bridge and defeat Imperial Warlord Zovesa and Vaulkhar
Location: Bridge One
Allies: Sith (too lazy and late to write out everyone, will edit in later)
Other Enemies: New Imperial Order (refer to above, will edit in later)

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

Amber eyes narrowed, even as her ice phantom distracted the Zambrano and she advanced on the Chiss commander, she could feel it in the Force. The woman's body was slowly healing. Armor must have bacta reservoirs, auto-injectors? Most likely, useful for a pinch in a fight. Could catch an opponent off guard if they assumed you were too injured to go on and then you stabbed them in the back. Clever.

The Chiss had switched styles, her blade moving in rapid arcs. Niman, Form VI, the neutral style. No advantages, no disadvantages. Average in all matters of saber dueling, simple... and elegant for that simplicity. In the howling blizzard, the white or silver blade was amplified in its movements, a display of motion against the swirling snow. It was a pretty sight, but... it was overly flashy for the Chiss from what she had observed. She was straightforward, a soldier, not one for theatrics. Her armor was not personally adorned, no individualized colors. Saber was equally bereft of color, not the sky blue of the Jedi or the crimson of the Sith.

Distraction...

Amber eyes tracked the blade, yes, her red saber prepared, but the motion of the other hand was more important. Reaching up for the pistol holster. That was her game hmm? Well, she was in for another surprise. The Chiss moved to attack, her saber coming down towards her shoulder and likely aiming to cut across to the opposite side of her waist. The other hand was there, pistol raised, finger pulling the trigger...

At the speed of a thought, the nanites in her right gauntlet and vambrace activated, forming a shield that took the first blast of kinetic sonic energy, fragments of nanites joining the snow as the second bolt erupted against the protective metal, shattering it. The third bolt completely destroyed her protection, the kinetic energy from the impact only mildly absorbed. The remaining nanites retreated back into their dispenser, not enough to form a new shield...

Bones broke from force that even kinetic impact gel couldn't stop entirely, her enemy's blade impacted on phrik armor, cutting into the pauldron. The phrik held, holding the Chiss's saber there for a brief moment... and leaving her open for the next stroke. Around her left hand, nanites formed into a blade, edges glowing red as the monomolecular energy chord they contained activated, and she stabbed it forward into the Chiss's momentarily unprotected torso, right for the stomach, intestines, liver... right to the spot that had been compromised earlier in the battle...

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Prefect Ferelai watched the duel between Darth Arcanix and the enemy commanders, even as she aimed down the sights of her rifle and let loose another burst of fire down the bridge. Her men, brave and loyal soldiers of the Sith, would hold their position behind their tower shields for as long as was required by the Strategos and Dark Councilor.

"Contact! Enemy advance!" one Legionnaire shouted, before going down in a hail of blaster fire from the enemy chainguns. Bit by bit, the sheer amount of fire would break down the shield line. They were giving as good as they got, but with only Second Division on the bridge and the rest of the remaining 173rd still holding position, there was only so much Ferelai and her men could do to hold out.

"Company C reports charges set!" her comm officer shouted.

"Let the Grand Moff know we're set!" Ferelai shouted back, then gasp as a bolt ripped through her left shoulder, spinning her to the ground. Breathing heavily, pain spreading like a fiery tide through her body, blood and carbon scoring mixing on her white armor. The comm officer sent the message to Grand Moff Madelyn Lowe ... two more Second Division Legions disappeared, a shell from the enemy tank ripping them apart to rain down into the canyon below. And then...

A rumble... a shudder...

Too early, not their charges.

"My life... for the... Empire," she whispered, the enemy charges exploding. Ferelai didn't get the chance to feel the fall, she was already dead, but many of her division were caught in the blast and the subsequent fall. Screams could be heard even over the blizzard as they fell, their lives reduced to a terrifying few moments before impact. Time enough to think about family they wouldn't see again, time enough to curse death on their enemies, time enough to...

On the far end, Ranulph turned his attention away from the tactical display. The three remaining Prefects of the 173rd silent. The enemy were pushing, their forces likely setting up plasma bridges to move over the gap. Whatever might be left of Second Division would be overrun soon... they all knew it. 4,000 more martyrs for the Sith Legion, created in an instant.

"Nothing not wearing our colors steps foot off that bridge," he ordered coldly. "Have the AT-HAs and Mjolnirs open up again, all three remaining divisions will keep suppressive fire going."

"And the charges from the Grand Moff? What about her Eminence?" Prefect Kyit asked.

"Blow the charges. Lady Raaf can handle herself," was his reply. The order would be given, the bombardment resumed, the covering fire thicker than ever as rage for what the enemy did consumed the men and women of the 173rd. Company C would activate their own detonators, by order of the Grand Moff and the Strategos, to begin reducing Bridge Network One to rubble below... the New Imperial Order's men would join those of the Sith Legion that had fallen.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: LOCATION //: Harnaidan, Munnilinst
//: MISSION //: Survive
//: EQUIPMENT //: Signature, Lightsaber, Energy Bow Arrows
//: TARGET //: Darth Carnifex
//: PARTNER //: Wyatt Morga
//: BOND //: Ryv
//: RADIO SIGNAL //: Konrad Bolter

Her Noble Sentinal​

The world around them slowed, each movement having meaning to the dance they shared. Their battle was one that has fought for millennia between the greatest for each side. Light and dark were always dancing the eternal dance of battle, on never outshining the other. Allyson didn't know if there was ever going to be an end to this battle, but she knew that even if she and Carnifex perished, they would only be a name in the great war. Allyson never thought her story would bring her to this place, never to Muunilisnt, never as a Jedi, and never facing down one of the greatest of evils the Sith had produced. Her journey brought only a curl of a smile to her lips. There weren't any regrets.​

Her footing set in as her weight shifted forward, committing to the strike against the Dark Lord. A flash blurred her vision as she watched the wave of the red blade swinging towards her arm. Every alarm in her mind sounded off, and the urge to survive won. Her arm moved back, pulling away from the attack, stopping not wanting to sacrifice herself. Something in her mind found clarity; Ryv's words echoed in her mind as she watched her arm pull away, avoiding the blade.​

"It's hard to see an opportunity to make a difference that can better the lives of those we love, and not take that shot. If I were in your shoes, I probably would've done the same thing. But, you know it, and so do I. You can't live that way anymore. For all the good you've done for others, you deserve that same good for yourself, okay?

She couldn't sacrifice herself anymore.​

As she pulled back, the Jedi Master focused the flowing and living Force around her. Allyson could feel the energy around her, those that believed in their struggle. Focusing the energy, Allyson pushed Carnifex away with the brunt of the Force. As she pushed him, she pushed herself back away from him as well. There needed to be an end to this battle. They weren't going to finish this here today. Both needed to live for the next day, the next campaign - this wasn't the end for Allyson and Carnifex.​

Looking around, Allyson tried to get sights on Wyatt. She couldn't see where he had landed from the blast previous. There was no time for her to find him, but the Master did her best to try and take a moment to search for him within the Force. As she did, looking towards Carnifex, she felt her hand glow a faint hue of light. "It's over Kaine, Imperial forces have already broken the front into the city. The New Imperial Forces have eyes everywhere, also," Allyson held up her wrist of the hand holding her blue lightsaber and a blinking light flickered on her armor. "The forward forces know your exact location. If I were you, I'd slither back to your snake den." ​

 

[Hunter Blackburn]

Location: Uppermost Portion | Bridge B | Pushing towards Sith barricades
Allies: Darth Bellum | Darth Assimilus | Imperial Warlord Zovesa
Enemies: Darth Kados | Amur | Jyon Hlervu

Spoiler: Equipment

Infantry Armor
Disruptor Carbine
Thyrisian Battle Oil
Blue Mojo Necklace
Hybrid Pistol
Vibrosword
Disruption device
Void Grenades
The Albatross (Picked up from Kezeroth's body)

The flames that spat from Adrial’s wrist was the fire of vengeance, of rage. Those lives wasted, those stolen from the other Galactic Marines. Thunder rung in Adrial’s ears, a storm of emotions that clouded him and pushed the soldier on. Yet the Sith Lord decided to use the force to make more distance between them before the Thyrisian could continue on with their assault. A hand reached up to the bloodied helmet that Adrial bore, the warrior pulling it off so the Sith could see their face one last time before they fled. The face that would haunt them, that would come for them on the next field of battle.

The lessons of Mygeeto were that the Sith were truly nothing but cowards. When their advantage was lost they fled like craven thieves in the night. Staring at the fleeing Sith Lord, Adrial didn’t seek to chase after them, the chances of catching up were too thin. What was more important was regrouping with Vice and Linkz.

Eyes narrowing as he tried to peer through the storm towards the barricade, Adrial saw streaks of crimson fire descend from the sky. A barrage of laser fire from the corvette that sat above. Each beam struck the ground with a thunderous detonation. Carnage, death, destruction rained down upon those Galactic Marines that had attempted to push forward under Adrial’s command.

Feeling his heart sink to his feet Adrial booked it over to the area where fresh smoke still drifted into the air. The scent of ozone and an all too familiar sickly-sweet smell filled Adrial’s nostrils. What lay strewn before him were the bodies of his brothers in arms. Some weren’t even whole, charred limbs and corpses filled the area.

The corpse of Linkz lay twisted at an inhuman angle, the armor melted around the zabrak’s body making it seem more like a clay figure than the living being he’d once been. A far larger body, rivaling Adrial’s own size lay on the ground missing both their legs from the knee down. Yet the faint rise and fall of their chest gave hope, that someone had lived.

“Vice!” Rushing towards the body, Adrial dropped into a slide that carried him to the aqualish’s body. Looking at the stumps that remained of the marines legs, Adrial winced. They’d been cauterized by the heat of the laser fire, the armor itself blackened from the heat. Hands fumbling the Thyrisian seized the helmet of Vice pulling it free of the aqualish.

Staring into the black orbs of the alien, Adrial saw how dazed they were. “Vice, stay with me, I’m here.”

Reaching into the armor compartments, Adrial brought out bacta syringes and stimulants. His hands shook, his head running at a million lightyears a second. His breathing uneven as he fought the urge to weep for his brethren. Tears would do nothing for Vice now, not while there was a chance to save them.

Drawing one of the syringes, Adrial turned to the Aqualish only for them to place a hand over his. “Adrial… You lived?” The eyes of the alien never moved to the Thyrisian, instead they stared off into the white of Mygetto’s blizzard. “Did you win?”

One hand moving to seize Vice’s the other pulling the humanoids head up, Adrial offered a faint smile through the pain. The devastation that clawed at his heart. “No, we won. Sent them running. General Vexen and reinforcements are on the way! You can make it!”

Shaking his head Vice coughed, speckles of blood flying free from beneath the husks and landing upon Adrial’s face. The Thyrisian didn’t even flinch while holding his friend. “Only you could make a Sith flee in terror. If only I could’ve seen the look on their face.”

“You can, you will. We’ll watch my recordings once we’re back at base.”

The eyes of the aqualesh began to close, flickering as they fought the urge to give in. “Of course, but I feel so sleepy.”

“No, stay with me! You've got to stay awake! You can’t go yet! We’re the only ones left.”

“Don’t you remember, we’re Galactic Marines. This is the shit we live for. Death is only feared by those too afraid to accept it.”

“It was an honor to fight with you Vice.”

“The honor was mine… Commander.”

Nodding slowly, Adrial felt the Aqualesh’s body go still, the shaking ceasing. An exhalation of cold air escaped the soldier, the icy vapor quickly snatched away in the storm. Giving into the sorrow, Adrial lowered his head, placing his forehead against that of his friends.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

​

Location: Muunilinst
Objective: Defend The Empire | Kill All Enemies
Equipment:

• Hinged Double-bladed Sith Lightsaber
• Saziliebm-type Imperious Battle Armor
• Jen'Shuk'Orok - The Dark Crushgaunt

Tags: Allyson Locke | Wyatt Morga
Music: Kylo Ren Suite

​

The Dark Lord slide back on his feet, kicking up dust and dirt as he came to a stop. With a snap, the saberstaff was locked back into its fully extended position, Carnifex twirling the weapon lazily as he eyed Allyson Locke with a predatory glare. Then he laughed, loud and boisterous. The echoing reverberation of his mocking cackle bounced off of the surrounding cityscape to mix in with the sounds of battle further beyond. "Do you really think so, my dear?" His countenance had reverted to as it had been before, haughty and arrogant. The sneer that spread from cheek to cheek was enough to send a shiver down the spine of even the most battle-hardened warrior, though he doubted it would phase such a stalwart defender of the Light as the Jedi Master. "I'd say those Imperials you so fervently cling to have begun to understand just exactly what kind of war they have started, hamstrung by their overeagerness and self-righteousness."​

​

He held up his left hand, upon which rested a communication device common to the majority of combat gear worn by both sides. With purpose, he pressed one of the small keys built into the device. Instantaneously, an encrypted signal was dispersed along a hidden channel connecting the Dark Lord to an armed force kept in reserve on the Siege Palace which loomed over the center of the city. Within moments, Dirk-class and Falchion-class dropships launched from previously closed landing bays into the skies above Harnaidan. Each one carried with them members of the Blackblade Guard, the Emperor's infamous private army which he had used to prosecute incalculable conflicts across the galaxy for multiple decades of galactic history. Hardened by war and by unimaginably brutal training regimen, the Blackblades were the ultimate expression of the Dark Lord's land-based martial might. ​

​

They rushed forward now to reinforce the besieged Legionnaires, and to use their rapid deployment methods to encircle and cut off the rogue Imperials wherever they had overextended. ​

​

One such landing zone was close enough to the Emperor and his opponent that a company of Blackblades were quick to rush to his side, weapons primed and ready for action. "As you can see, my young Jedi..." The Emperor's smile only widened, "This is just the beginning, you will find that we are not so eager to relinquish what we have built. So come, bring as many Jedi as you wish, throw your bedfellows into battle with the greatest urgency. Those who die will only feed the power of the Dark Side, and thus I will grow even stronger!" He made a gesture with his left hand, and the Blackblades moved into action.​

​

"Destroy her!"​

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

{x}​

Objective: Go Mad
Allies: TSE | Mazrim Caide/Taim
Wild Card: Darth Morrow
Opposition: Irveric Tavlar | FN-999
Post #6

​

"And you will pay more. Your title marks you to pay for every man you send on the field. In changing the path of your Imperials you are sending them to die for you, not the change they wanted! You are their new god, Tavlar! Don't be a fickle one!"

A plume of fire breached the horizon. The sign of bombardment, rebellion, and the battle raging on Muunilinist. But suddenly it became beautiful, the sign of industry and progress.

Tick tick tick tick. All systems nominal and production was ahead. The boys in the foundry would be thrilled to have an early weekend. She reached for her comm--NO! The knife! You were reaching for your knife, Cara!

Her mind snapped back into the present as the yellow tendril shot forward. She wrenched the vibroknife from its sheath and slashed against the grappling line to no avail, her footing quickly pulled out from under her. As swiftly as she seized the line she was reeled in by the Mandalorian--Tavlar, it was still just Tavlar.

Had she spoken any sense into him? Did he see the error in his clouded vision? Focus on the present, the future, and strive for progress.

Focus on the present.

She cursed herself; nothing was available to keep her there. The ground beneath her feet was dead. The thousands of miscellaneous streams of electric whispers were lifeless. She felt constricted by the dome about her head and wished nothing more than to rip the helmet off.

Two different realities converged in her mind. Barely audible were the shouts of the Eight as they made contact with an enemy outside her vision. Her men looked like those slaughtered decades before, mere workers streaked with soot wielding legionnaire loadouts. They wanted nothing more than to go home after a hard day's work, to be with their family and feel a loved one's embrace. It was what she wanted. She heard their blaster fire, she heard Mando shouts, she heard a sword be unsheathed.

Tavlar was in the downward arc. She used her forearm to block the blade's descent. The resistance it gave was minimal, and she stared in disbelief as her arm and torso were pinned together by the blade. The phrik sword sunk through the silicon then into the organs she designed and replaced many times before. It met resistance near her spine, its tip still biting into the thick plates there.

Once the pain had blossomed she threw her head back and grasped at the helmet. The heat was overwhelming, the smoke was choking. After tearing it away she threw it at Tavlar's own, unrestrained as she bellowed her pain.

Following the swing she grabbed the steel rebar, the phrik sword, whatever it was as the moments layered and peeled away incoherently. She thrust herself closer to Tavlar, closer to whatever threatened to ease the retribution done to one of the galaxy's most persistent stains.

As the phrik sword pushed through their distance was cut. She shot forth an open hand, intending to crush the t-visor staring at her.

The whine had gone unnoticed as the rocket surged into her left side. The detonation bloomed currents of quick-fading smoke, and only a few meters away were the heavy droids being engaged by legionnaires.

The engineer's body was sent careening over broken 'crete and glass, dashed against the wrecked shell of a building where it finally stopped. Gravity pulled the body from its bed of debris and the shattered doctor crumpled to the ground.

 

[Khagan Harrow]

\\ Bridge network one, several stories below Imperial Warlord Zovesa 's main assault, opposite Lirka Ka and her forces
\\ New Imperial Order, Force Corps Auxilia platoon Castus and three other platoons
\\ Cmd. Farwell: Half-way across the bridge, trying to figure out a way to get out of this alive
\\ Troops: Engaging Sithspawn warhounds, holding the midpoint of the bridge
\\ 56/56

Blasterfire rang out all around. The panicked shouts of four platoons twisted into confusion as all hell broke out behind the makeshift barricades. Dark beasts summoned from the eldritch depths of Sith depravity descended upon the troopers who clutched only the weapons of mortal men to defend themselves. Red bolts rang out and illuminated the support structures, brief flashes of dark fur here and there giving them barely more than the vaguest impressions of where the beasts were coming from as they clawed their way down onto the bridge. Cameron could make out a few of his troopers in the vicinity, the storm was too intense and the troopers too spread out to get a good read on their overall situation. The light of blaster fire lent him vague indications, but it was all too chaotic, too much to take in. He could only ever poke his head out briefly for fear of Sith retaliation or the stray blaster of one of his own troops going off in his direction. The faint voice of the Sith's commander echoed in the distance, but their propaganda and insults were the least of his concerns as all hell had broken loose.

Through the storm of gunfire and wind, he could hear the first cry of pain, their first casualty. If it hadn't been for the distinctiveness of the human voice it would have been easy to miss in the confusion. He jerked inward as though something had hit him directly. Without fail, the first death was always the one that hit him the hardest. One would think a seasoned commander would have grown desensitized to the cry of pain of those in his charge, yet, the first realization that one of his had perished, that he had failed them, always broke through his facade.

The blaster fire from his immediate left snapped his attention back to the situation at hand. He shot a glance to the trooper, cursing himself for the lapse of attention.

"We got incoming!" He recognized the voice of his comms officer.

He saw the man fire upwards in a loose pattern that followed a dark shape descending quickly. Bringing his own rifle to bear, Cameron opened fire as well. Ori soon joined in. Their barrage followed the hound, always managing to be just a second too late or slightly off, no matter how careful they tried to aim. Soon enough they were firing parallel with the bridge at the hound charging directly at them. Even with the straight path, the hound appeared to be almost preternatural in its movements, dodging and weaving out of the way of their bolts as though it knew where the shots would lead before they were even fired. It charged closer and closer until -

"Oh shhhi-" The corporal cried out before he found himself trapped underneath the beast's massive claws. It had lunged at him, pinning him to the ground as it ripped away Ori's blaster by trapping its barrel between its jaws. She fell backwards, right into Cameron.

The hound's fur rippled in the wind. The black strands, wild and unkempt, almost appeared like smoke flowing off its back. It stood upright, almost regal, though its face belonged to a dog more than it did a wolf now that it was clear to behold. The small red eyes it possessed appeared to glow red and leave behind trails with every small movement. Cameron could see its massive chest rise and fall with each laborious breath. He tried to get his gun to bear, but his master sergeant struggled to get to her feet atop him, blocking his movements with her attempt to stand.

He could hear the string of expletives the corporal was letting out suddenly fade out as the movements of his master sergeant became less erratic until she too was stopped in her tracks. From behind her armour, Cameron could see the corporal slowly rising to his feet. Some relief came over him as he saw the man mostly unharmed. He shook off his subordinate and immediately scanned his surroundings for the beast, only to find it gone.

"It just ran off," the corporal muttered.

"What do you mean 'it just ran off'?" Cameron asked. He found the corporal pointing over their barricade into the wall of ice and wind.

"It just ran, that way."

Cameron stared at the swirling snow for several moments. The red bursts of blaster fire began to die down all around them. The platoons' comm chatter began to die down, slowly adapting a less frantic mode. Confusion began mounting as a strange peace settled over the platoons. Howling wind became the only sound around them. The hounds' presence had faded as quickly as it had appeared, leaving behind only a handful of dead and wounded as the evidence of their existence.

Shock had gripped Cameron as he tried to piece together the motivation behind the attack. The Sith weren't actively taking advantage of the opportunity by laying down fire. The hounds had stopped their attack having barely created a dent in their numbers. There were no reports of any hostile activity anywhere near their position and the only danger still racing towards them was the gunship that would cut off their only route of escape.

As if on queue the loud explosion of the ship pulled his attention to the other side of the bridge. A loud mechanical wine filled the air as the gunship cleaved through the bridge with its momentum. The molten slag it was reduced to drew a straight path across the bridge's width; it came to a halt on the side opposite where it had made impact, teetering precariously over the small shred of bridge that yet remained.

Cameron couldn't see any of Revenant's troops in its wake, their dark forms disappearing into the storm between the gunship and his position.

"Revenant-actual, what's your status?" He asked, his voice wavering ever so slightly.

"Revenant is complete and en route to lend assistance," the reply came.

The commander breathed a long sigh as he turned back to his master sergeant, who was just recovering her rifle that had already frozen over with a thin layer of ice.

"I don't know what the Sith are scheming, but we have to take this bridg-"

He was cut off by a violent barrage of explosions. Along the entire bridge, the Sith's charges detonated cleanly and efficiently, sending permacrete and betaplast flying all the same. Large fireballs engulfed the entire length of the bridge, turning the frozen landscape into a blazing inferno within microseconds. Cameron felt the heat roll over him, singing and melting the armour all over his body. Before he could even realize what had occurred, he felt himself falling. Panic began to swell within him as the searing sensation began to travel over his body, his mind still desperately trying to process the damage that had been inflicted upon its vessel. Adrenaline pumped through his system, but he found his limbs barely responding.

Through the burned black of his visor, he could make out Ori's helmet just before him. Those stripes still drew his attention, even through the thick layer of ash that clouded his vision. He fought against the pain and the numbness to reach out towards her with one arm, finding his other unresponsive. It around her form, drawing it closer. She barely moved in acknowledgement. Cameron let his head rest against hers, he felt her arms weakly wrap around him.

He wouldn't see any of their visors again.

At the bottom of the canyon, buried beneath rubble and dead men //
Formerly a soldier of the New Imperial Order, Force Corpse Auxilia, Platoon Castus //
Platoon Castus: MIA, assumed KIA; Platoon Sunder: MIA, assumed KIA; Platoon Thorn: MIA, assumed KIA; Platoon Revenant: MIA, assumed KIA //
0/56 //​

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

​

// OUTLAW // Colter Darik
// UNIT // Raider Squadron // Galactic Alliance Rangers
// OBJECTIVE // Extract the Jedi / Repel Alekto
// THEMATIC // Deconstruction

After a brief glance around the corner, his eye barely peering down the corridor before he'd glance back down the line of Rangers lined against the wall. Holding his index and small finger up to the unit. Two hostiles, Sith Legionnaires. Receiving the nod from Jambo, Outlaw worked at slicing the pie. Slowly peeling the black and red clad troopers into his field of view until they were both well and visible, clamoring to take up positions after the rupture caused by their entry, a three round pulse from the Viperwasp into the center mass of each of the troopers sent them down unto the floor beneath in a flail of their corpses against the durasteel flooring.

"Clear." Colter let out as he stepped into the doorway entering the terminal room, slinging the modular particle blaster over his chest he moved a gloved hand to peel the face wrapping down from his face.

"Let's see what we can grab, put a slice on that main terminal." Colter ordered out.

"Anything I outta be looking for in particular?" One of the Rangers replied as he pulled a slicing unit slung from his shoulder out infront of him, pressing his thumb to power it on as he pulled loose an insulated cable to plug into the scomp link of the main system.

"Snag it all. Send it off to the Imps once you've got it." Colter iterated before his comms went alight with his superior.

<"Raider two, our section is clear, status on yours?"> Jambo sounded out through the Squad comms, a familiar enough voice to Darik that it didn't need the introduction.

<"Copy, Raider one. We're all set, I'm running a slice, shouldn't be more than 90 seconds."> He said, speaking only as he saw the slicer motion up nine fingers.

<"Understood, we're moving to regroup with Saber actual.">

<"Acknowledged.">

<Jambo incoming. Reporting the building is secured. Do you need backup?>

<Blue, Outrider - do you copy?>

<Copy. We need back up.>

<"Understood. Enroute."> Jambo sounded out through the comms, relaying through the Squadron, Outlaw was quick to snag ahold of his blaster carbine again.

"You and you stay for the slice, everyone else on me." Colter sounded off before himself and three other rangers were weaving back down the corridors to back up the Jedi. Climbing down the stairs and into the planning room which served as venue for the exchange of the force users, the Rangers were quick to open fire on Alekto in apprehension.

// OUTRIDER // Raider Sqd
// OBJECTIVE // Harnaidan
// THEME // The Force
// NIO // Loske Treicolt
// TSE // Ellie Mors

​

The fury carried on in his reckless strikes, cuts and blows on Alekto as he buried himself further into the darkness. When he'd felt the most cornered, the most threatened he was quick to delve into the abyss of his subconscious and draw on that darkness. It was potent hatred, raw power. Each passing moment he drew on it, feeling the sweetness of its power like some potent narcotic he gained more and more ground, offering up no quarter to Alekto.

In collusion with the hyper focused yet unorthodox and unpredictable strikes he willed on her - his assault was proving effective. He could feel soon enough that if he continued he might best her here.

You can't lose her.

You can save her.

You promised her.

The voices of doubt calcified in favor of that coursing darkness. It seemed far simpler now that he'd began to saw away at the bond he'd had with Loske until it was thin tether. There was no over thinking, over analyzing now. There was only the battle. Existential in its weight. It was either he killed her or she killed h- and then he felt it. She was reaching out to him in desperation to sow that bond again that he'd shed in favor of letting loose the darkness. As soon as the earthen spike willed from the earth beneath stabbed into Loske that bond clasped around him once more. Drawing a shudder of intense pain through his senses. His clouded vision was drawn clear once more as his tunnel vision cleared to bring the periphery into view, his focus waning to give way for a misstep, his lack of proper form ailing him as he failed to produce the right guard at the right time, letting a magenta blade bare into his chest and rake through the metal beneath, sending him back.

With the bodyglove quick to sow the schism dug in by the saber his bond with Loske had begun to compound again, only in her moment of fatal mortality. Alekto be damned, he couldn't lose her. All but taking the bet that the Rangers moving in to envelop the position with bursts of blaster fire, smoke and flash bombs would be just enough to if not drive her back and out, to allow him enough time to save her.

<"No!"> Not now, she- no. With tears coursing down his cheeks it was a difficult assessment of how he could save her, mitigate this horror at all. Resting a hand on her chest helplessly that course of every fiber through his body, to press himself to the limit waned. Immediately coursed his gloved fingers toward the flowing, pulsing wound as a hand clasped behind her head, his tired fingers straining her blonde locks as he almost seemed to be ethereally. ‘Hold on!’

He didn’t know the precise steps, the esoteric will he would have to muster to heal her, to save her. But their collective bond in desperation would see it willed. As he kept a hand flush against the wound, his temple leaning down to smooth against hers even as it was secured beneath his helmet he let go. Of everything else, everything but her. The blasters, explosives and fire drowned out as he isolated himself in feeling her through the force, working to mend her wounds, stop the bleeding, the pain. Every shred of his form mortal or ethereal he would will unto her in the hopes of pulling her from the brink.

Alekto could've cut them down both here and now and he might not have cared. It would've been going out in good faith knowing he'd done everything he could to save her, freed from that isolated sensation of rage that might've overcome him if he'd watched her die helplessly. With their fates fused he finally let go from under the burden of obligation, the obligation of selflessness. Even in his acceptance of finality, the force bond between them willed a fight of mortal existence - the mending willed by their collective touch with the force. Even as he strained the limits of his physical form, the ailment of the exchange minutes prior raking its due on his body he'd expend anything, everything.

For her.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: LOCATION //: Harnaidan, Munnilinst
//: MISSION //: Survive
//: EQUIPMENT //: Signature, Lightsaber, Energy Bow Arrows
//: TARGET //: Darth Carnifex
//: PARTNER //: Wyatt Morga
//: BOND //: Ryv
//: COMMS //: Loske Treicolt & Maynard Treicolt

Friends are the family you choose, I will always watch your six.​

Allyson's emotionless face remained unphased while she watched the Blackblade forces touch down around them. She could see every point of their landing through the HUD lens. The vast majority of the troops impressed the Corellian, but she knew that the Imperial forces would match and devastate the special forces of the Emperor. Fear was no longer a factor for Allyson; the light of Ashla fortified her heart. Whispers of the ancient name flowed through her bond, and she finally trusted the living Force wholeheartedly. The protection of light showered her while standing before the troops of the Emperor and listened to venomous words. Kaine's undying confidence would be his downfall, and if it were not on Muunilinst, it would be on Bastion. A perfect ending for the monstrosity that devastated the Galaxy.​

"Where ever there is hope, the dark side will never conquer. You will die before this is over Kaine Zambrano, may the Force take pity on what's ever left of your pathetic soul." As she finished, his command to destroy her was issued. Allyson decided that it was time for her retreat. Once more she glanced, trying to find where the Grand Master had gone off too. Hoping he made it off on his own before the Blackguard arrived, she moved quickly using the power armor to climb the side building to the roof. Her body ached, but adrenaline continued to flow through her with the help of the Force. The city was in full-on combat; she passed fights and skirmishes until something faint through the radio waves crackled through. Allyson had reached a distance from where she was and was closer to the walls of the large city.​

Stopping, the Jedi tucked herself into one of the dark alleyways, soldiers from both sides ran and fought by not noticing her. The message came again, clearer. The faint voice she instantly recognized. Loske. Things didn't sound right; the woman's bright, cheery voice sounded weak and feeble.​

Closing her eyes, Allyson fought the urge to cry. Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried to feel through the Force for her friend. Allyson wasn't as skilled as other Jedi; she could only feel those that have woven a tight bond with her. Those people were few and far between, but Allyson could feel Loske. The woman was a faint brightness against the Corellian's dark and shadowed world. She was in trouble, which meant Maynard was in trouble. Allyson climbed to the rooftop once more and used the last bit of energy she could muster and sprinted with the Force fueling her body. As she ran, her mind remained on the pair, after Ryv, they were the closest people to her. They were Ryv's people, which made them her people. Promise were made to protect them, and Allyson refused to break that promise.​

Connecting to the frequency Loske and the others were on, Allyson spoke mainly to Loske. Remembering the voice that helped keep her conscious as she was flung from her fiery deathtrap of a fighter, Allyson reached out to return the favor.​

<Hold on...you have to hold on, Blue - Please hold on> ​

The words that came through the waves mirrored the ones that helped keep her alive. After coming too, Allyson had quickly figured out the voice that saved her. It was a small but powerful gesture that Allyson knew she could never repay. Like the others, Loske had helped make a home for the lost Corellian, and she wasn't going to let anyone hurt her family.​

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

// IMPERATOR | ENIGMA ACTUAL // 1st ‘Punished’ Stormtrooper Legion
// OBJECTIVE // Cleanse the earth
// THEMATIC // Vicarious

Spoiler: Tag List

// NIO - Allies - Harnaidan //
FN-999
Belisarius KIA
Agrippa
Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
Kardev Byrric
Sturit Goan
Knight
Ravraa Vyshraal
Sam Deckard KIA
Davis Garrick
Tessa
// TSE - Enemy - Harnaidan //
Cara Dorniarn
Mazrim Caide/Taim
AMCO
Ingrid L'lerim
Lord Venari
Maiven
Darth Carnifex

​

"And you will pay more. Your title marks you to pay for every man you send on the field. In changing the path of your Imperials you are sending them to die for you, not the change they wanted! You are their new god, Tavlar! Don't be a fickle one!"

It was seemingly never an even toll. An endless debt to the obligation of duty, servitude, command. All of it. It was crushing weight, a horrid burden. One that had many times over broken and reshaped the Sovereign Imperator. The lie of survival ever keenly whispered in his mind in the voices of dead men, women and children. Now wasn't the time to deliberate any of this.

His strike landed true and even when Cara lifted her arm to thwart the thrust of his blade, the sharpened forge of phrik punched through the cybernetic and pinned the limb to her chest, all but nailing her body to the earth beneath. With each passing moment it was another spent throwing herself against him in a need to fight and claw for her mortality. For vengeance. The position he'd confined her in made it all futile effort and one snuffed out at the blast from the stray fire unfurled by a nearby SD-60x.

Tavlar's focus shifted immediately. This was a diversion, a desperate one. His troopers needed him. What immediately began aboard the assault fleet as rows and columns of blue blocks enveloping service designations and callsigns in his HUD had flushed a deep and gut-wrenching crimson.

Those among the living a desperate scattering as he flicked through each block of units. KIA, KIA, KIA. The New Imperial Order ravaged but even still deeply embedded in the throes of battle. The fate of Dorniarn? He'd left to chance. He garnered no pleasure in seeing the death he might've dealt, no satisfaction in the finality of mortal life. Awash in the sensory envelopment of industrial brutality and of death amassed his emotions had been crucified again. Peering up to the sun blotted by ashen clouds he drank in the muddied light, his eye screwing shut as he pulled in a deep breath.

It was in that moment he realized the filtered air of his helmet's inbuilt re-breather had been replaced by the ashen smoke heavy on his senses. The very structure of the reinforced beskar plated helmet ruptured from the blast, sending splinters of shrapnel into exposed swathes of his skin beneath the helmet. When he'd made this realization the heads up display flickered and faltered with distortion creeping from the periphery until eventually it flashed into nothingness to reveal a glasteel visor cracked and shattered obscuring his eyes from the grim dark reality surrounding him. Reaching his cold, artifiicial hand up and over his head down to the seal where the edge of the bodyglove beneath joined with the chin of the helmet. Slowly he wrenched it off.

The taste of iron was heavy on his senses, the feel of sweat lining his brow intolerable. Slowly shifting the helmet to peer into glint of reflective glasteel he saw a man drenched in his own lifeblood beneath the protruding horn. More akin to demon than the mortal man he was. For a moment, it warped back into the man who'd spilled his blood at New Kalandra some time ago before a shift in the sunlight beating down unto it mustered it back to the sobering reality before him.

A moment in isolation among the chaos was immediately interrupted when his wrist comms went alight. And so too did his weight of obligation and command.

<"Enigma Actual do you read?"> The outlander Concordian voice of Konrad Bolter sounded out from the opposite end. With the signal of interruption cleared to show the Imperator had no longer been engaged, was no longer under the immediate threat of death there was little time to spare in offering a reprieve. He had to lead.

"Copy, Nomad..." Tavlar sounded out in reply, his voice clearer and free of the distortion and warping that his helmet brought over him. With the New Imperial lines moved past him there was solemn in the ruins once more, within it, he dropped free his holomap projector, lowering down to a kneel once more as he planted an armored knee into sharp and uneven earthen rubble.

<"Good to hear you, sir."> Treicolt patched through candidly.

"All the same." He said, his eyes peering over the holomap of Harnaidan as he pinched and grasped to manipulate his view of the map, gaining the entire context of the field of battle.

With the chaotic chatter sourcing from Nima Appw'rii , Irveric ordered the strike, shooting the mission to draw CAS to Lyra's position to the top of the priority list where it was promptly picked up by a squadron of TIE Maulers. Fire bombs thudding to the earth, painting the requested coordinate in hellfire before an evac winchester sent them away with a spent payload under duplication.

<"Sir...we got eyes, from the Shadow Allyson Locke ."> Treicolt transmitted to Irveric Tavlar. Transmitting it to the projected holomap. Darth Carnifex . His location clear and brazen among the chaos of battle. It was danger close but all the same it was the head of the snake, the leviathan to which Irveric had bound himself to an existential crusade to defeat.

But the resources at the Imperator's disposal were barely enough to do good by his men as it was now. Even so, the situation only grew more foreboding with a sudden and titanic emergence.

​

He held up his left hand, upon which rested a communication device common to the majority of combat gear worn by both sides. With purpose, he pressed one of the small keys built into the device. Instantaneously, an encrypted signal was dispersed along a hidden channel connecting the Dark Lord to an armed force kept in reserve on the Siege Palace which loomed over the center of the city. Within moments, Dirk-class and Falchion-class dropships launched from previously closed landing bays into the skies above Harnaidan. Each one carried with them members of the Blackblade Guard, the Emperor's infamous private army which he had used to prosecute incalculable conflicts across the galaxy for multiple decades of galactic history. Hardened by war and by unimaginably brutal training regimen, the Blackblades were the ultimate expression of the Dark Lord's land-based martial might. ​

​

They rushed forward now to reinforce the besieged Legionnaires, and to use their rapid deployment methods to encircle and cut off the rogue Imperials wherever they had overextended. ​

Immediately he was forced to tangle with an ever peculiar ultimatum.

<"We could hit him. Now. Try and end it but...our- we're- we're gonna overrun by his reinforcements, sir."> Waylon reminded Tavlar through the comms. It was either he answer the call of the void and strike at the heart. Invoke the hellfire and do all he could to kill the Emperor Carnifex, the very manifestation of all his sin and guilt. Or he do what was best by his men and expend his resources in backing them up. Ensuring their evac where ever possible and linking the isolated pockets within the city with the risk of letting the Epicanthix fleet the field of battle should the tides turn.

There was no time to argue which would invoke vain here. His men, his troopers needed him. They fought this war for them, not for him, not for ideology. He would not abandon them now.

"Everything in taking out those Blackblade, press the advantage." Tavlar stated in cold placidity.

<"But sir - Carn-"> Waylon argued. This might be their only chance.

"I'm not giving up what they've bled to gain." Irveric reiterated. The hill he would be content to die on. For Belisarius for Sam Deckard . Their deaths would not be in vain.

 

[AMCO]

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

The New Imperials fled, firing blindly all the way. They fled from a Sith Lord in his prime... not knowing that they had vastly overestimated their foe.

Adrian shambled backwards in desperation, invisible shield fraying at the edges from contact with the accursed voidstone - she was just a soldier, she wasn't supposed to have anything of the sort, he never would have taken to the field had he known. Not without his Talismans.

Colliding with his hoverlimo in his mad scramble to get as far away from the Force-dampening smoke as humanly possible and then some, Adrian swore as only a Corellian could, something that only intensified as blaster bolts began to impact near him, clashing with his barrier...

... and, in one case, slipping through the tattered barrier, grazing his right arm and eliciting a pained shriek that was hopefully blocked out by the explosion of thermal detonator somewhere nearby. He could only count himself lucky that it had not been thrown at his feet.

Finally managing to slide the door open, he flung himself into a plush seat, landing heavily. "Air conditioning, now! And get me out of here!"

All traces of composure gone, he did his best to gather his senses even as he felt that horrible, horrible substance in his very lungs, dampening the connection he so heavily relied on even as he was lifted away from the source. Damn her, damn them all.

 

[Jyon Hlervu]

Location: SIBC-VT, (Bridge Two), Southern Mesas, Mygeeto
Directly Engaging : Darth Bellum ​

Try as she might, her efforts would find no purchase as her multitude of attacks ended up being parried or deflected as any vestige of her emerging from the battle victorious began to slip from her. The composure between the two Sith were in stark contrast, with the Lord being calm and composed, while the knight was an errant and ragged mess. Once again, the Anzati general touched on her personal value within the Sith Empire, giving her the notion that there was still a future for her outside of the Empire. Could such a thing even exist? Jyon found it hard to believe. Part of her wanted to believe and seek the thoughts of such hope, but others worked overtime in trying to smother her with doubts about such an idealistic thought, negating any positive hope of an optimistic future outside of the Sith Empire she had grown up and spent all her life in. The moment finally came. Was it the work of fate or destiny that had brought her to this point?

Perhaps, it was the work of her combat ineptitude and her overconfidence of even trying to take on such a monumental foe. She always knew that her overconfidence would get her killed one day. Today was likely the day. Quicker than she could react, a heavy force blow slammed into her chest sending her stumbling several feet backwards, cracking the visor of her helmet. Removing the useless headpiece as she knelt on the ground, a dull throbbing ache pounding in her chest, the Sith knight spat a wad of blood ejected from the force of the blow, traces of fresh crimson blood stained the edges of her mouth and chin. Her saberstaff was soon flung out of her hands and into the hands of the Sith Lord, and any attempts to recover her weapon proved futile. She stared upon in horror as her lightsaber, her weapon that was very much the core to her identity as a Sith knight shattered into little pieces in the gauntlets of General Vexen.

Just like that, he had striped from her what she considered most precious. In most cases, losing a weapon would mean little for her, she would simply find another and fight herself loose. But losing her lightsaber was more than just losing any weapon. She also lost a part of herself in that loss. Collapsing on the ground, she found herself staring as the battle for Mygeeto raged on ahead, caring not for victory for either side as she found herself slowly losing sight of the battle ahead.

​