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

Ravraa Vyshraal · May 30, 2020

Location: Harnaidan City
Task: Objective One - Run
Focus: Lyra Voi'kryt Adrian Vandiir
Faction: New Imperial Order
---

What would he do? Would he use his foul arts to turn the men under Ravraa's command on him one by one? Would he lunge at the medic and cleave him with an unseen weapon? What was the Sith's game? He claimed mercy, as Ravraa was drilled that the Sith would try to do, offering a sense of moral highground and betterment. Questioning why the New Imperial Order were on their grand crusade through dark space, why they would even dare stand against an apocalyptic monster that was the Sith Empire. Ravraa would have recited his entire oath to the corps right then and there if it would shut the man up... would he? What allegiance did he have outside of the fact they allowed him to fight Sith? He certainly wasn't born in NIO space, why did the Sith's words cut him so deeply then? Why did the weight on his finger feel even heavier than normal.

Lyra Voi'kryt said:
“Frag out!” she coughed, her one hand reaching back up to shield her eyes.

The fact that Lyra could move after what she had been through nearly floored the Togruta. Seeing her body suddenly animate to life, flinging her arm out and letting a grenade roll from her grip was like seeing an ancient leviathan beach from the briny depths. Your mind told you time and time again that it shouldn't be happening, that the force hidden beneath the calmed and fading surface shouldn't be able to exist, and yet here it was. The spark of hope amidst the dead and dying. The device clattered through the debris and rubble, before suddenly claiming the entire space with a nova of light and sudden shroud of darkness. Forcing the field promotion commander to cover his eyes by simple reflex, his hand snapping back to the carbine a moment after the situation had properly register.

<"Get her out of there!"> Ravraa roared.

The trooper that was tending to Lyra, the same that so willingly went to shield her from the blast, muttered a small apology to the woman as he went to work. He slipped his arms underneath her knees and behind her back, careful to keep her legs elevated as she had asked. The trooper hardly needed to be told twice to bug out as he stumbled backwards as he raised the captain, his feet catching on the debris and nearly sending him tumbling with the captain in his grasp. Fear gripped the faceless man's heart, he was the rank and file, he was the endless hundreds that gave their lives in service to their betters. If this is how he went, he was okay with that. The other members of Dorn-2, thankfully, hadn't wandered too far from Ravraa proper. The sheer amount of bodies made it to where their deathmarch through the field ended up being more of a deathstroll, blasters still warm from easing the fallen into a more permanent sleep. They'd rather that for the mutilated men than whatever the Sith would do when they got their hands on them. However, the instant the grenade had popped, training regiments kicked in nearly instantly. Blasters were raised, and following the lead of their command, the squad began to back into the alleyway they had traveled from.

Ravraa stood near the entrance as he squad funneled out of the killing field, rifle never leaving the unknown hostile in front of him. The moment his men were clear, he began to back pedal himself, finally pulling down on the trigger in two quick bursts, sending a volley of bolts in the direction of the cloak. The carbine snapped back harshly in his grip as the rounds attempted to find the distance between him and the fog. Ravraa had no delusions about the shots actually killing the Sith, much less even hitting him, but the sheer satisfaction that it brought him to have the intent in his heart was plenty for him. Suppression and delaying. It was the best he could hope for as he turned, hustling down the path after his men. His hand dug at his belt, his hand merely slapping against the betaplast for a moment before wrapping his fingers around his prize. The last thermal he had clipped to him. The Sith would just turn it into a missile if he chucked it across the threshold. His thumb pressed down on the activation button, and gently the hum began to sound from the device. He simply let it drop from his grip at they dispatched from the alleyway and hung a hard left.

Flash, beep, flash, beep, a moment later the device busted into a violent expanse of flame and combustion, sending red quakes through the mason structures next to it. Churning through their stability, the stonework shattered on the edges instantly, collapsing down into the exit into the street, with some of the paneling from the roof even joining in the party as the explosion rocked the entire complex.

Now, Dorn-2 was dead sprinting down the same street they had been held up in moments before their chance encounter. One of the most influential captain's in the NIO was bleeding out in one of Ravraa's squadmates grasp, and poor Jeresan was pulling up second with her arm in one hand and a blaster in the other. Ravraa was certain that the Sith would keep up the chase. They were injured, tired, and carrying a VIP...

Ravraa reached up, pressing down on the side of his helmet as his armor racked against his body, his breathing coming in great rolling gasps.

<"Dorn-2. Heavy squad casualties. We have retrieved Captain Voi'kryt, traumatic amputation. Cloak confirmed on our location. We need medivac, now! Whoever is on this channel, I repeat, we have Captain Voi'kryt. Major trauma response requested. We're fucking dying out here! Uploading grid coordinates, westbound. Whoever can read, respond."> He transmitted to allied comms, desperation choking his voice.

Agrippa · May 30, 2020

Sam Deckard

Wraith

Ooc// phone post

HELLHOUND TWO-ONE, TASK FORCE “HELLHOUND”
HARNAIDAN
ELIMINATE AA BATTERY

I could not muster the strength to reply to Tempest’s inquiry. The anger within boiled like a volcano minutes before its eruption. The only thing I could muster was tears. They rolled down my cheeks blurring my vision and hindering my mind. The Captain had perished, the glue that stuck together the Company was gone—

A hard touch on my shoulder brought me back to reality.

— but they had to perservere. For his sake. For their sake. For the sake of the Imperial idea.

No reply was given back to Tempest; Lieutenant Agrippa, now the commanding officer of the Company, gave the order to attack.

The rooftop spewed out the last remaining platoon of Gladius Company. Fire erupted from our position surprising the Sith-Imperial forces tasked with protecting the anti-air battery - the last obstacle blocking the way for a dropship to brave a flight to extract Tempest and Wraith. A mission, military experts would call foolish and stupid, given to with the aim of saving only two Stormtroopers had costed Captain Belisarius his life and perhaps the Company’s future.

We showed no regrets, only an insatiable desire for retribution.

The fierce fire fight halved our men but when the short window of opportunity revealed itself, I, personally, pulled the trigger on the missile launcher sending the battery to hell.

My call for the dropship was immediately answered and as we watched it descend somewhere into the distance we felt no satisfaction, no glory.

Only emptiness.

A soldier’s life was, in contrast to popular belief, rarely fully rewarding.

Godspeed.

Tempest, Wraith.

Cara Dorniarn · May 30, 2020

until there is no end

Objective: Get Mad
Allies: TSE |

Mazrim Caide/Taim
Opposition:

Irveric Tavlar | FN-999
Post #5

Translucent oil mingled with blood as they ebbed from the thin abdominal wound, painting a glossy streak that terminated at her belt. There they slowly had begun to pool, spilling over onto the ground following her sharp movements. Pain was cordoned off from her senses as she manipulated artificial nerves to be silent. She circled the general and began to speak, frustrated with his stubborn and misplaced will.

"You've become blinded Tavlar! You're not seeing--" A flash. The tint of the dome blocked the bulk of the brilliance yet Cara held up a hand out of reflex. And as she heard the crash of boots, saw Tavlar charging at her, her other senses seemed off. Slowly, the HUD of her helmet grew dim and a dull pain had begun to throb in her abdomen. Even the hand in front of her face felt foreign.

She recalled the grenade. What was it that her mechu-deru couldn't analyze? Her blood rose to a boil as she remembered: The payload. A small void where not even the circuitry of the grenade could give her a hint of its contents. Other than that it read as a normal flashbang.

But Tavlar was--Chit, her ears were deaf to the chatter of his bionics and suit. Still he was charging forth while her connections were growing sluggish, most peetering out as voidstone particulates invaded the air. This fight wasn't over, and as her neural chip gave its fading cry she focused on the general’s attack.

His bulk pushed forward into a roll, but as he reached for her ankle Cara sweeped the leg to the side, following the motion as she spun on her right heel. She torqued her waist and sent a fist to crash back onto Tavlar's position only to miss, the blow shattering the duracrete and embedding the knuckles. The attack was fast, it was devastating, yet it was inefficient, disconnected, and worthless. Where the constant hum of an electric chorus had been silence took control. The chain of her anchor was cut, and she felt her mind already slipping from the present.

She wrenched the fist from stone, opening the hand to palm the wound on her abdomen, smearing the fluids as she drew it back. The cold inflection of her voice strained before breaking entirely, "Damn your repetitive chatter! A broken holo you are with it. I believe nothing, give nothing, serve nothing unless I weigh the cost of the outcome! You keep looking at the loss and not what is gained--"

An explosion, away from them, caused a structure to collapse. The metal groaned in an all too familiar sound. The dull pain exploded to seize her torso, a phantom sensation from decades ago.

"No!" She buckled under the weight she felt for but a moment. No, she was in Harnaidan. She was on Muunilinist, nowhere else. The pain retreated back to its former throb. She caught the word and tried to merge it into the next sentence, "No, you can't look past the cost of an Empire. How are you going to fare when you realize your New Order requires the same price? Who will you blame then, Imperator?"

She grasped the vibroknives on her armor's chest, waiting to unsheathe them once Tavlar's next move was known.

Melia Siari · May 30, 2020

C H A M P I O N

Location: HIMS Imperial Fist | Bridge
Objective: Defend Muunilist
Allies: The Sith Empire
Enemies: New Imperial Order | Dracken Pryce

"Ma'am we have readings of gravitational fluctuations on both barrels of the main Siege Cannon, matching the mass of the two Starhawks moving in on our flanks." Her combat analyst sounded off, Melia cursing under her breath in response as the grip of her left hand tightened on her arm rest. "Fine, I was going to make this an easy get away for them, but if they're so determined to go down with their commander we're switching gears." The Trierarch replied tersely, flipping several switches by her right hand that brought back the holographic representations of the rest of her commanding officers. "I am adjusting flight plans on the fly, and due to the nature of time and our lack of it I will only be referring to you by ship." She explained as everyone brought their attention to their holorecorders - and thus her.

"Redoubt, Voxyn and Terentatek you are to flank the Starhawk on our left, Terror and Order you are to direct your fire to the Starhawk on our right. Imperial Will you are to maneuver behind us, dive nose down and direct all of your fire on the Starhawk at the Fist's rear, put a pressor ray on them if you can - push them, use their clever little tactic against them. Bridge - and I mean us - we are still a Siege ship, we have greater firepower without our main siege cannon than the entirety of their two fleet carriers. Concentrate your fire on their command vessel, I want their admiral dead." Melia instructed as she started to rise from her seat and brought her gaze to the viewport some fifty meters ahead to glare at the man who had the gall to turn down her offer for retreat and surrender. "Shamed - no, Mandalorians, you're in a good position to move in. Box in the enemy's command vessel and drain their shields, the sooner the better." She added before coming to a natural pause while an expression of curiosity washed over her face.

"The Siege cannon, ma'am?" Her Mirialan communications officer asked, to which the Zeltron gave a gesture of dismissal. "Stop pulling power to them, but turn us towards the Starhawk on our right, use the pull of their tractor beam to give us our added momentum, and then push us forward at forty-seven degrees - use that tractor beam to get us between their command ship and the Starhawk, we can afford losing the Siege cannon if it means getting us out of this situation." She answered, clearly a little conflicted - her expression was still somewhat unsure, but there was satisfaction visible at the same time. "We are reading additional escort frigates.. emerging from the command ship?" Came the voice of a rather decidedly confused Mirialan - finding it odd that someone would cram capital ships that certainly could have been equipped with hyperdrives of their own into the hangar of a capital ship. "Direct two squadrons of our Jurgoran Bombers to make a run over whichever ones they can get to quickest, put a request for six squadrons of our Mailoc Gunships to support them - they'll keep any of their overconfident fighter pilots in line, and I'm sure their armament will more than surprise the escorts themselves." She replied, clearly beginning to think of her own pilots more as expendable pieces than living people - though it was a rather common coping mechanism for commanding officers to make it easier when the casualty reports began to pile up.

"Chances that we won't lose our cannon?" She asked, more out of curiosity than hope - she had no illusions that it was more than likely that she'd lose her biggest asset, and the main reason she'd planned to bring it to Mygeeto had these invaders not shown up unannounced when they had. "Less than sixteen percent, Trierarch." Her combat analyst said without skipping a beat, not even offering to look away from his display - he'd likely understood the point of her question. "A pity. Sharpshooter, Vornskr, you are to continue hammering your previous targets, they'll start to feel the pain when larger ships join the fray. Imperial Reach, Ascension, and Dauntless please keep the heat on those cruisers, I want five squadrons of Banshees on them - just keep them busy so our capital ships can keep them on edge. The eleven remaining Mailoc gunships and four squadrons of Dominance strike fighters are to converge on their two destroyers, keep them occupied and hit them as hard as you can. They probably think we've dumped all of our droid fighters, they probably don't realize we started this sortie with them in the first place - this whole old school, wave after wave, deployment went out of style with the First Order and the last Galactic Alliance, it didn't work for them and it sure as hell isn't going to net us a victory just because we followed some dead man's playbook. I'd rather they be surprised by our audacity than expecting our every move." The Zeltron said, turning back to her chair. "Do we still have our corvettes?" She asked as she moved to sit.

"Red has succumbed to turbolaser fire, but we still have Black and Blue is reporting shield losses." The mirialan answered quickly. "Good. Black, do you read me?" She continued, waiting for a voice to register in the affirmative in the background behind some sound of static. "Perfect. We have authorization for protocol zero, you and Blue are to turn your fire on our sky hook. Deprive the enemy of their staging area, break up any debris if you can." Melia instructed, and if the airways had been quiet before they were dead silent now. "Repeat: authorization for protocol zero?" Came the voice of whoever the nameless mook that was captain aboard the Black through the static. "That is affirmative. Asset denial is to commence." She confirmed, turning her gaze to her communications officer. "Patch me through to command."

She had hardly the time to gather her thoughts when a familiar gruff voice spoke up. "We hear you, Trierarch Siari, what is your request?" He answered, more than a little smug to have been called back - as if he had been waiting, expecting, her to make the call ever since the end of their last one. "Uh, sir, I am calling to request an additional task line." She replied with a slight meekness in her tone. "We can provide that, ETA in seventeen minutes. In the future, if I am asking if you need additional assistance, take the hint, Trierarch." He said before the line went dead. She frowned, leaning back against her chair. "If I make it out of this, I swear on the force.." She muttered, sighing.

Darth Bellum · May 30, 2020

K o r _ V e x e n

| Location | Mygeeto, Secondary Bridge Network [Bridge B]

| Objective | Take the Bridge

| Focus |

Jyon Hlervu

Vexen's comms would activate in his helmet as he was receiving several reports that the Sith Empire were intending to blow the bridges with charges, followed by an orbital strike if they failed to detonate. He was already aware that his Dragoons had seeded charges along the main bridge network. As the Sith were not aware of their already placed charges, he could detonate them early to confuse the Sith Imperials into believing it was performed early on accident. Nexu Company was prepared on both bridge networks with their plasma bridge projectors at the ready the moment the bridges were blown, and the New Imperial Order would utilize the Sith Imperial's retreat to take more ground while pursuing them with little time for them to secure their positions on their mesa.

The Lord of Assimilation deftly deflected and parried the young Sith's blows despite their best attempts to use the aggressive nature of a saberstaff to their advantage. He made no aggressive attacks, simply showing himself to be an unpassable obstacle that she would not be able to overcome as she was, reminding her of the futility and gap between both skill and experience; showing that the teachings of the Sith as they were now offered nothing to her. He sensed her internal strife as it wreaked havoc upon her - and it reflected in her combat. Emotions were a powerful ally to Sith as was ambition and desire. The Sith Empire robbed Sith of their potential, all to sate the desire of a failing emperor to remain in power.

Anger boiled in the young Sith before him, the Anzati standing before her in silence as the introduction of his thoughts into her own caused a tumultuous tide of emotions within. When she finally burst out, shattering the silence between the two he responded, " Your value is not defined by the existence of the Empire. If the Empire is to fall, will you fall with it? If you have the will to fight and survive, seize the future you desire with your own hands. Or fade into obscurity to further prove you were nothing but a worthless speck. "

Vexen flourished his saber as Jyon readied for an attack, swinging his saber as they charged him. His saber clashed against hers as he twisted his wrist, their blades locking as he shifted his saber, the bladed guard rapidly moving along the projected beam of plasmatic energy as the cortosis edge skittering along her crimson blade as it shorted out the blade, leaving her with half a saberstaff to fight with. Short, quick movements to parry the remaining blade, and Jyon would soon find Vexen's saber at her neck as he stared down at her, " There is no solace in death Captain. Only despair yearning for what could have been. " His free hand reached down, deactivating his saber as he slammed an open palm into her chest, sending her stumbling backwards as his extended arm ripped her saber out of her hand and into his own, " You have potential Captain...And I would sooner see it grow than atrophy in service of the Sith. " His words were punctuated as his crushgaunt grip shattered the saber in his grasp, destroying it and disarming her; perhaps a symbolic gesture for her to cast aside whatever notions she had that the Sith Empire had given her.

His troops had been ordered to capture and detain her alive and with as little harm inflicted; men who were well aware that a fate far worse than mere death would await them were they to fail. With her saber taken from her, she would prove as less of a threat, though her skills as a soldier were nothing to be scoffed at either. The Anzati merely turned his back to her, a brief glance over his shoulder before he vanished into the blizzard, moving in the only direction that one ever should take -

Forward.

Amur · May 30, 2020

Post: 7
Location: Mygeeto, Southern Mesas, Bridge 2
Faction Objective: 1
Allies: Darth Kados

Jyon Hlervu Karina Lowe| TSE Forces
Enemies: Engaging Commander Rive (Controlled by Hand of Retribution) |

Darth Bellum

Hunter Blackburn

Darth Assimilus | NIO Forces
Gear: Listed in Character Bio along with Two Durasteel climbing axes affixed to belt. Boots have been replaced with spiked boots from Alpine Legionnaire Armor
Immediate Objective: Try to not die via explosive bearhug

The blade made a sickening purchase and with the lull of silence from the Gen’dai the Sith would frantically move to act knowing that she had a fleeting moment to make this work. Time was an enemy here more than everything else. The lightsaber would be quickly extinguished as she tossed it to the ground as it landed on the bridge just below her and Rive jutting defiantly out of a small pile of snow.

She reached now for her belt pulling out a Thermal Detonator, it wasn’t a miniaturized sun but it was the next best thing one could hope for in this scenario. Quickly moving she would arm it and force it down the open wound she had created with her lightsaber, her hand nearly getting caught by the fast moving muscle cords that were trying to close the wound as the powerful grenade cheerfully ticked away in its new home. Now she just needed to clear a distance of ten meters set on the vaporizing explosive and see if it could do enough damage or not. She just needed to…

Amur’s eyes widened as she stared at Rive’s head. It’s. Head. Turned. Around. It. Was. Laughing. Disconcerting noises of folding and twisting muscle and sinew broke through the howling winds in a disconcerting choir of noise that caused the sith’s bloodlust to fade away. The corners of her vision registering movement she would try to drop down to the ground and scurry away. She would feel gravity’s tug only for it to come to a crashing halt. Her left arm exploded in a storm of stimuli as it’s nerves screamed at her, meanwhile a macabre series of cracks would arise as bone after bone snapped and shattered under the immense strength of Rive’s bearhug. The Sith now found that she was dangling in the air, her left arm caught by the Gen’dai as everything from just above her elbow down was caught by the armored arms of Rive. Her left arm being the only thing stopping her from getting away. The Sith Knight tried to fight the pain but as the river of stabbing fire seemed to shoot up her head and overwhelmed her mind she would end up bellowing a long scream of pain that howled with the winds.

Her heart was racing and panic was starting to take hold as she knew that death was coming if she didn’t get away right fething now. Animalistic instinct for survival driving her as she would try to pull her left arm but it wouldn’t budge under the Gen’dai’s strength. She looked down to the ground seeing the lightsaber. There was no hesitation and there was no time to think of anything better, there was just actions running in and out of her head.

Her right arm reached out to the saber and it answered the call flinging itself into her hand, and then she would raise it up. The sound of the saber would come to life and Amur would fall to the ground. Adrenaline flooded through her as she got up and began a sprint through the white fog that the frost cyclone had casted upon the bridge. Not knowing if it was towards the Sith end of the bridge or the NIO end. It didn’t matter where she would end up, just that she cleared the distance. She would run ten meters before the explosion sounded off as she just barely cleared the blast radius, a portion of her cape being vaporized by the detonation. The winds would pick up and with one particularly powerful gust would carry her off her feet before she hit the ground and skidded against the icy surface of the bridge, unable to tell where she had been propelled or where her final destination would be as she was once again forced to rely on fate.

For the eyeless and earless sergeant Karina Lowe she would be able see a figure quickly enter into her cybernetic eyes’ field of vision before the wind would send the dark figure cascading towards the nearby ledge of the bridge. Amur would nearly be flung over the bridge’s railing and sent down into the deep abyss if it weren’t for her grabbing hold with her right hand at the last second. The Sith’s strength would be tested but her grip held firm as she now hung from the railing.

Amur would try to reach up and lift herself out only to see the cauterized stub that had once been her left arm.

Maynard Treicolt · May 31, 2020

// OUTRIDER // Raider Sqd
// OBJECTIVE // Harnaidan
// THEME // H.
// NIO // Loske Matson
// TSE // Darth Alekto

Of course it didn't work. In the most critical moment, with Loske's and his own mortality at risk ; he came up short. Like cold, haunting hands from the grave pulling him into the earth, this doubt only crept more and more from the periphery into the forethought of his mind. Each strike landing short, each action fruitless. Why was it so easy before and he so powerless now. Recoiling the grappling line back into the vambrace grasped the hilt of his cobalt saber in both hands. Seemingly fixated on Loske, he could not let her go into the fray alone.

Useless.

Leave while you still can.

You can not save her.

You're weaker, you can't fight for her.

The internal self deprecating monologue continued its toil, feeling akin to a dagger coursing through the back of his skull. Far too much pulling him down, not now, not here. As he sought to envelop himself in the force and repress his anger, his undying rage. It was coursed mainly to himself more than anything. He was helpless here, he'd made a promise to her, to himself to protect her and with each passing moment he faltered, only providing to vindicate that lingering darkness that the undying Achlys spoke of.

Loske Matson said:
“No.”

“You’re wrong.”

“W--what?”

“N--no. That’s..that’s not true either.”

To Maynard, in spite of a confident posturing from Loske - her candidness in the sentiment seemed to wither. What was truly outward confusion from the Kiffar translated past the filter of doubt as the very same. She wasn't confident in him to protect her or even the both of them. It ripped and gouged at his core. After all he'd laid down to sacrifice for her in the crooked path leading up to here, he could only feel that her confidence in him had waned into nothingness.

Even if on that fateful day, in that decisive moment she decided to scorn him, he was well confident he'd still be here. Willing to risk everything, risk his life. For her. He'd shown that in scores by now. How selfless and reckless he was in the face of undeniably fatal danger. Whatever she might have thought here, he couldn't let himself slip away from that. There wasn't any margin of error in swaying at his foundation, his integrity.

Not now.

<"No!"> Maynard barked out with venom in his voice. Even if his attempt to apprehend Alekto failed and she continued to press the advantage on Loske, he would be damned than to be exiled from the conflict. If he was here, he was going to fight. Self preservation be damned, that very concept eroding when the magenta blade cut through Loske's chest and sent her to a kneel.

Immediately in the fray - pulling himself well into the zone of imminent danger, he was there to thwart any coup de grace the Sith may try and attempt in Loske's moment of vulnerability.

Except now, there was no fettering his anger, lurching into the fray to allow Alekto no quarter, he was quick to unclasp a flurry of swift, heavy and powerful cuts and strikes toward the woman. Whatever he could channel through the force he favored his mortal guise in spades over the link he had with Loske. He couldn't risk her being wracked by the same mental envelopment he'd let himself over go, burying himself in muddied waters as he let the darkness go unfettered. Expanding his threshold of pain, the limits of what might sound the dread alarm of his body otherwise he continued to bolster himself, to course what he could consolidate through his entirety.

Undisciplined in his path of attack, he struck at her with unorthodox and unpredictable cuts and strikes, a miasma of all he'd learned best applied where he could determine in the heat of the moment. Whether it could hold a candle to Alekto's millennia spanning wisdom of the field of battle? Doubtful, but he'd surge everything into this contest of wills, closing the gap with her to try and mitigate the advantage of her two weapons and drive her away from Loske to allow for a moment of reprieve.

The voices of doubt were silenced to make way for rage, sacrificing the bulk of his bond with Loske in the process.

Sam Deckard · May 31, 2020

// Buckethead - 7empest //
// Muunilist, Harnaidan //
// Objective // Survive
// New Imperial Storm Armor Mk. IV | REC-RCG/01 'Reaper' - Pattern Particle Beam Chainblaster //
// New Imperial Order //

Wraith

Agrippa

Belisarius // Stromtrooper Corps

Sam fully expected to die today. To die like the many who defied the Sith Empire had before. A good soldier comes to terms with dying in battle, comes to terms with his own death. He was a soldier, and unless he was a very lucky one, his destiny would end on the battlefield. Sam wasn't lucky. He'd never won a game of Sabacc in his life, never rolled doubles, he couldn't even remember the last time he won a coin toss. Sam wasn't lucky, and he'd accepted that long ago.

Coming to terms with the death of a friend was a different beast entirely. Even more alien was the death of a loved one. The platoon was Sam's family, the only family he'd ever had. In the face of his own death, Sam knew he could look it right in the eyes. In the face of their deaths? He tried not to think about that.

Sam screamed over and over into his comms. Mournful wails demanding an answer to respond through the static. His demands wouldn't be met. The voice of Hellhound Two-One would not hail him again, leaving his ears only with the remorseless sound static. The same static that had bombarded his ears constantly since the crash. Here it was, the face of Captain Belisarius' demise. Before it, all Sam could do was tremble.

His cries, the desperate inquiries became more and more hysteric. The irrational demands of a griever echoed through his helmet, demanding to know what happened. Everything around him became a blur. The sweat and tears that flooded his eyes rendered him nearly blind. His whole reality for a fleeting moment was only comprised of grief. Why did it have to be Belisarius? Why couldn't it have been me?

It took Davis' sudden grasp and subsequent shaking of Sam to bring him back from the dark depths he'd sunken into. Squeezing his eyes shut, the tears expelled from his lower eyelid and ran down his face. It crossed through the peeking forest of out-of-uniform stubble that hid beneath his helmet mandibles. His eyes gazed upon Davis from inside of the hot, musty betaplast bucket that embraced his skull.

"Sam? Sam! Listen to me, dammit! We can't do anything for the captain right now. We don't know if he's gone, mate. But we do know we're TARFU, got it? We need to reach the evac-point, or we're not getting out of here!"

Sam didn't share Davis' optimism for the status of Belisarius. But he was right, there was nothing they could do. Sam took a deep breath, nodding his head in an attempt to get ahold of himself. Davis wouldn't make it out without him, he had to get a grip. He wouldn't let Davis meet the same fate as Belisarius. Not while he was still breathing.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm good- I- I got this," he replied in a daze. Did he have this? Hardly. He could only barely hold himself together. Achieving only the bare minimum to function. He had no other choice. Not unless he wanted to lie down and quit, of course. But to do so would be a spit in the face to the very example Captain Belisarius led.

The next few minutes were little more than a blur to Sam. The swift upwards ascension of the turbolift shaft, the firing at the Sith-Imperials below, the climbing onto the roof, it was all a haze. He became akin to a droid, no though behind any movement. A monotonous dance of autopiloted maneuvers. Halfway between the murky darkness of grief, and the clear and violent stress of battle.

It took the sudden loud sizzle and pop of the flare to bring Sam back to reality. The sights and sounds of his surroundings seemed to hit him all at once. He could barely remember how he got up here, the reignition of his full awareness was almost overwhelming. Sam squeezed his eyes closed a few times, shaking his head quickly to get his bearings.

"Let's hope they see that, huh?"

Sam looked up at the flickering red ball of fire that ascended from their position. As he had many times before, he smacked his helmet several times. When the HUD cleared, he could see how far they were from the planned LZ. About half a kilometer, but they didn't have time or ability to get there. They had been cornered, thus this position would have to do.

"We're gonna get outta here, brother. We just need to focus-up and hold the LZ down until Hellhound-Two-One arrives. We'll be alright, we always are."

"Yeah," Sam responded absently. "But we're gonna be knee-deep in it once those S-IMPs see the flair."

Following Davis' lead Sam moved quickly to find cover on the roof. He took up a position behind a climate control unit. Cover was scarce, even the ideal positions were extremely exposed. But it was all they had, and it was better than nothing. It was a grim optimism to be thankful for any cover, but Sam found any excuse to keep himself held together.

It wasn't long before the fighting started. First, they came from the turbolift access, as Davis had expected. The tight space combined with fire from both Stormtroopers made the entrance a deathtrap. Five, ten, fifteen Sith-Imperial soldiers dead in the threshold. The assailants quickly reconsidered their approach.

The few minutes of silence that came after were maddening. It almost felt like hours. The constant anxiety and anticipation of where they would come from could have made anyone panic. It was truly nothing short of a miracle that the already broken Sam didn't break down again. The visor was too damaged and unreliable to detect them. They had to rely on their eyes and ears.

The blaster bolts finally came. From the left, the right, and even behind in a sudden storm of death. The Sith-Imperials had taken positions on the surrounding roofs. Cover became even scarcer now that three different directions were compromised. Sam and Davis scrambled to different positions, returned fire, and scrambled again.

The fighting went on and on, every second dragged out into minutes. Sam could no longer hear anything, not the wind, not his own thoughts, nothing. Only blaster fire. Grenades were exchanged, smokes were popped for cover, lines were deployed to close the gap. The use of resources was on par with a full-scale skirmish. All for a couple of Stormtroopers.

When the dustoff finally arrived, Sam almost wanted to cheer. The gunship laid down fire on the southernmost rooftop as it approached. The surface of that roof becoming obscured in a cloud of dust and rubble. The whirring of the engines soon overtook the roar of blaster fire as the gunship lowered itself alongside the roof, just across from Sam and Davis' position.

Sam took ahold of Davis, getting him to his feet as fast as he could. Together they limped as fast as their bodies would let them, zigging and zagging toward the gunship. Bolt after bolt whizzed past them. It wasn't long before the fire was refocused onto the gunship. One after another, the red spears of energy hissed against the durasteel hull of the gunship. They were halfway there, they couldn't stop now.

"It's getting too hot. Hurry up, hurry up!" The pilot shouted, his scrambled and distorted words echoing through Sam's helmet. They limped onwards, pain elevating beyond what it had been before. Every step was on closer to salvation. Almost there. Almost.

The scorching tear of a rocket soared overhead. The gunship leered forward evasively, moving farther away from the roof and increasing the gap between the roof and salvation. The metallic screech of the rocket skidding off the hull almost spelled the end. By some stroke for fortune, the impact was not enough to cause detonation. The rocket flew past the ship in a wild spiral before detonating in mid-air.

Faster and faster the struggled to get to the gunship, groaning out loud beneath the weight of their injuries. They were only three meters away when Davis was grazed by a bolt. He lost his footing and fell to the ground with a thud. A second rocket near-missed the gunship that went into a second bobbing motion. The bolts hadn't let up, the red energy slowly eating away at the hull of the ship.

"It's too hot! We need to descend and circle around. If you don't take out some of these S-IMPs, we'll never make it!"

"No!" Sam shouted. It was much louder than he had ever been able to shout ever before in his life.

~~// Objective // Survive~~
// New Objective // Minimize Casualties
// I'll become all I need to be... //

It was in that moment that I knew exactly what I needed to do.

All at once, I felt at one with myself. It was a peace I had never felt before. I no longer felt unsure, nor did I analyze myself from an outside perspective. For the first time in my life, I knew who I was, I knew what I was. It was a bittersweet sense of zen the likes of which I never thought was possible. I knew exactly what needed to be done, and I was going to do it.

I couldn't even find my hatred for the Sith-Imperials, even if they took Belisarius, and who knows how many others. They weren't taking the men in that dustoff, and they sure as hell weren't taking Davis. I'd come to terms with the fate of a soldier long ago, and besides, I wasn't cut out for upper ranks anyway. I felt no hate, no stress, no worry. I felt peace, I knew what I had to do.

I reached to my neck and tugged at the oval-shaped identification tags that hung from the durasteel chain. I couldn't even hear the snap as they came loose, the engines on the dustoff were the only symphony I'd ever have the pleasure of experiencing. I threw my arm downward and grabbed Davis by the hand and dragged him over a meter before he managed to get on his feet.

I slipped the identification tags from my hand into his and pressed his hand against his chest as I pulled him by the collar of his armor to bring his back to the dustoff. With all the force I could muster, I shoved him forward. He flew off the side of the building and cleared the gap to the dustoff, landing just barely inside. Just before I turned away, I could see the men inside grabbing him to pull him the rest of the way in.

"Go! Get the hell out over here, I've got your cover!" I shouted as loud as I could as I pulled the trigger on my chainblaster. As the barrel spun up and the bolts began to fly out in a rapid patter, I swept the barrel wildly across the Sith-Imperial position. As the last trace of stress pierced through my sudden-found zen, I roared as loud as my throat would allow.

"Go! Go on! Go!" I shouted once again. I felt the wind pick up and heard the sound of the engines begin to grow distant as the dustoff retreated. I kept going, firing away and raining hell down upon the Sith-Imperial position. I couldn't tell if I had hit anyone, let alone killed anyone. That didn't matter though, what mattered was giving the dustoff space to get out of here. How many other wounded men were aboard? I didn't know. Who were the pilots? I didn't know that earlier. I wasn't going to let those bastards take anyone else I cared about.

I fell to the ground as I felt two sudden scorching hot stabs in my abdomen. My entire body tensed up from the pain. I don't know how I managed to roll over while I was in such pain. I could feel the world around me getting distant, my vision was beginning to tunnel. I couldn't see the dustoff, nor could I see much of anything behind the cracks and internal fog on the lense of my visor at this point.

I only felt some fear as everything began to fall away from me. It was hard to feel much of anything else besides the pain in my abdomen. I closed my eyes, and I let go. Without putting up any resistance I waited for death to take me. As much as I knew Davis would have argued, there was no getting out of this one.

I fully expected to die here, anyway.

Lucien Dooku · May 31, 2020

C O L O R S
DRIP | LIGHTSABER | KAL'ORITSIR | ETA-2 MIDNIGHT

Smashing against the ground with Bladesworn in hand, an earth-shattering cleave that was meant for Venari would instead impact with the duracrete beneath the blade, fracturing the ground in its wake and contributing to the cloud of dust and debris that had begun filling the air around them. Eyes swiveled in tandem with his form as he locked onto Venari once more, bolting towards the Sith Lord to once more reenter the fray. A medley of interconnecting attacks flowed through his hand, the sword held tightly within his grip being used to deliver a flurry of movements to match the sheer number of weapons being brought to bear against them. His pace quickened with each passing moment that his blade met with Venari's, even as the drain effect from Venari's weapon began taking effect, and multiple lightsabers danced around him as if they were a pack of wild dogs circling their tired prey.

More-- I gotta give more.

The words rang through his head, pushing him to quicken his pace even when his body was screaming out for him to slow down, to retreat, to give up the fight. It felt as if every muscle within his body was tugging at his spirit to quit fighting and make an escape with his partner, if the option was still open. Had it not been for the constant source of emotions gripped within his hand, feeding him from a limitless well of strength and presence to maintain his composure, Luc would've surely realized the level of shit that the two Jedi were knee deep in at the time. But none of that mattered to him, not now at least. His teeth would simply grit at the thoughts of fleeing that entered his mind, only to be met by the overwhelming desire to win the battle that burned brightly from his unfiltered spirit.

Logic was set aside in favor of letting his spirit roam free where it was comfortable; he was let loose for once, free to fight to the bitter god damn end if his battle against Venari led to that unfortunate conclusion. Even as his vision was overcome by the flurry of lightsabers striking at him from a myriad of angles, the last thing that stuck to the front of his mind was the thought of him losing the fight to one who understood little of what their opponent was about. The Sith's attempts to provoke his fall rang within his mind, dousing more fuel onto his spirit and energizing the draining physical form to keep up his intensity without letting up for even a second.

A hand would drop from the hilt before the sword impacted with Venari's primary lightsaber for what felt like dozens of times during their little bout. The charcoal hilt dangling from his waist was soon unclipped from his belt, the fluid activation of the weapon being overshadowed by the incandescent blue blade forming behind his back, catching two of the Sith's lightsabers between his own at the exact moment the plasmatic blades crossed onto the back of his chest plate. He felt the heat emanating off the trio of blades, the kiss of molten metal as it sparked from the points of impact and settled against his skin. He could only wince from the rush of pain, teeth visible and gritting just seconds before a roar escaped his lips. Pushing off the two blades with all his strength, Lucien broke through the momentary bind in time to readjust his stance and once more press the offensive, when in reality he'd consistently been on the defense.

Both weapons cut and weaved across his form as he nimbly shifted across his stance, guiding his weapons into a new lightsaber with each pass of the weapons through the air. Beads of sweat drenched his face, soaking into his robes in a desperate method to cool down the blazing soul who refused fall, even as his heart pounded in his chest from the combined exertion of their fight and the drain.

Keep fighting, Luc-- keep swiniging, if you stop now, it's all over!

The graze of yet another blade skirted across the plate of his armor, hissing across the duranium until sliding off and cutting his pauldron in half. Despite the indomitable spirit's willingness to fight until the end, his body was no longer working on the same wave length as his mind.

Another graze dug into his armor, forcing him to stumble and revealing just how stifled his reaction times had become, even with his naturally-gifted ability with battle precognition. A pair of lightsabers descended upon his kneeled form, and Lucien reached out with his own weapons to block the blades in their attempt to cross through him. His vision grew blurry in the moments that followed, the mixture of heat and the glow from the crossing of lightsabers and swords gleaming uncomfortably close to his face. Every fibre of his being wanted nothing more than to keep fighting, to hold on and push until an opening could be exploited. Even as he was brought to a knee, his weapons brought to bear in a last-ditch defense while his vision grew blurrier from the toll being put onto his body, Luc still refused to give up.

He'd fight to the end if that was what it took--

Or until the floor beneath his feet began a descent onto the levels below them. His eyes remained glued above him as they fell beneath the Sith and his partner, the influence of Bladesworn and his use of Vaapad having honed his focus on nothing more than the battle that appeared to have came to an end out of nowhere. It took him a moment to realize what had just happened, his eyes soon shifting from that intense state of focus as his muscles began to relax on cue. Sheathing his sword onto his back, Luc looked around for Ryv, rising to his feet once he'd spotted the Jedi and grabbing him by his chest-plate to help raise him to his feet. "Thanks, Ryv, I almost lost it there for a bit, I think." Whether Ryv had known it or not, Luc had begun losing control towards the tail end of the fight. His desire to defeat the Sith lord had brought him to a place that usually was locked up deep within, and while he wasn't on the risk of turning, as some Jedi would assume, it was a safe bet to think that he wasn't going to leave that duel alive.

Beads of sweat rolled onto his robes as Ryv commented on the state of the battle, informing him that he too had given the fight everything he could, with little to show for it in the end. "It's in the wind, for now." Luc responded, his eyes trailing down to meet his wrist being brought to the vicinity of his lips. "R4." He called out, the astromech on the other side responding back a second later. "I want you to lock onto my position and bring down a handful of seismic missiles on the building i'm currently in-- asap." The droid confirmed his orders, choosing not to back-talk Luc this time around after hearing the seriousness of Luc's tone as he gave the order.

His astromech chimed in over his wrist-comm a moment later, prompting Luc to reopen the shared comms that connected the two Jedi and

Dorian Sicarrio together. "We've got a minute and a half until a salvo of seismic missiles rains down on this building. I suggest all three of us make our exit from this fight to regroup outside. We still have men fighting the Sith Imperials out there, and playing around with these three has been a fruitless endeavor. Lucien out."

Trailing his eyes down the hallway before returning them back to Ryv, he jabbed a thumb in the direction of one of the corridors, somehow managing to force a playful grin onto his lips. "You got enough energy to run? I'll carry your ass out of here if I have to, but either way, we're gettin' out of here pronto."

Thraztin · May 31, 2020

Post 4

OBJ: Survive the rooftop battle
Allies: TSE
Enemies: NIO |Sam Deckard |

Wraith |

Agrippa

All this for a couple of damn stormtroopers.

More NIO soldiers poured onto rooftops to cover their LZ. With the ease that they were taking out the AA guns, the LZ could be wherever they damn pleased.

"All squads converge on my location! Proceed with caution, heavy enemy presence in the area!" Maiven yelled into her commlink over the whirring sounds of blaster fire and the overhead enemy gunship. The rooftops of this areas were flat and sparsely covered, meaning the only cover she would likely find was what she currently had. Explosions rattled above, below, and all around her. It was nothing like the simulations. It was so much louder, and hotter, and it hurt so much more. All the blaster bolts she had taken over the last few days still stung, and the throbbing pain throughout her body lingered from her up close encounter earlier in the day. She was a cold, tough, leader, but for once in her life she empathized with her soldiers. Many had already died in this battle, and she realized that without her helmet, standing up and fighting back at this moment meant a bolt to the head. She never really used to lose soldiers. She couldn't think back to a time when she had. Sure some had suffered injuries, but nothing prepared her to watch the men and women under her command drop like flies. She'd seen a few of her own squad die today, and it seemed like every hour another one of her sergeants called her to report more casualties.

If she acted like her usual brash self for one more moment her entire squad might be gunned down by the soldiers on the other buildings, her along with them. It was a lot of cognitive dissonance to handle. So she froze. She thought back to all her other missions. Just a months ago everything was normal. Normal missions to her, like infiltration, espionage... hell, even cleaning pirates off the Path of Houses was normal, and seemed like fun to her now. Harnaidan wasn't fun, nor easy, and she knew damn well that this wasn't the last battle the Sith would call her to. Even if they won it was just a momentary reprieve before the NIO came back, and fought with the animalistic determination they fought with now.

On the other hand, she had been training for this since she was a little girl. Not specifically fighting stormtroopers on a roof, but war. She was in this position because she was the best the Chiss had to offer, the best they had produced. And now, she didn't know what to do. She watched years of being groomed for command leap from her body and into the fire, like her spirit was gunned down. What was she supposed to do even if the rest of her platoon arrived? In all likelihood they would die too.

She could tell by the way the enemy fought, and they way she cowered, that both side were hurting.

With her back to the HVAC unit that currently spared her life, she looked out across the city at the fires that raged, and the blaster bolts and flak that flung high into the sky. After this, any man left on Muunilist would be the king of the world as far she was concerned.

Darth Argentum · May 31, 2020

OBJECTIVE TWO: THE SIBC VAULTS
Allies:

Aerarii Tithe

Madelyn Lowe
Enemies:

Gat Tambor

Avernus

The Muun had expected to skewer the Pureblood. To feel his blade run his enemy through. So shock painted his features when the violet blade dropped behind it's wielder to parry. He froze in place for a heartbeat as the foe turned to face him.

"Leave it to a Muun to stab you in the back, huh?," came the cocky verbal jab just before the Pureblood brought his weapon to bear.

It came at him in a flash, first left but then right. The Muun had been a hair slow forcing him to take the brunt of the slash on his blade. He staggered back from the impact as the crash echoed loud through the halls. He snarled as he'd begun to gather himself.

"A thief deserves no respect," Dansk spat in reply.

With that he sent a quick burst of energy at the other male's feet, left palm thrust out. A move intended to stop his foe from pressing his advantage. Enough to buy him time to ready himself properly....

Dorian Sicarrio · May 31, 2020

Tag:

Ryv

Well that was something. He hadn't expected the mound of muscle to have the mental strength to pull himself out of the Memory Walk, but in truth Dorian was far from a master of the power. Against a combatant who'd used it before, Dorian's defense had crumbled instantly, and he would've likely lost. The pain Leon held was crippling. Dorian would've been impressed by the feat, if he actually had time to.

His opponent's suit flared to life and started blaring music, and in an instant the hall was filled with projectiles. The warrior switched his focus out of the mental attack and threw up his hands, blocking many of the more dangerous projectiles by erecting a barrier in the Force just in front of him. Again with so little time to focus and his lack of skill in the power, he was soon thrown back by the blast, out of the window and towards the building across the street.

"Our family is gifted with more than speed, Dorian."

Oh, great. Old man's back at it again. Still, considering the situation, that might not be bad. "You got something for me, or are you just gonna preach?" There was an audible sigh from the voice in his mind.

"Deception is key, as you know. As it is, you've deceived the Sith -- while you and your companions battle Venari and his bounty hunters, they are unable to command their forces. In fact, the battle is turning in your favor at this very moment, I'd say."

"Get on with it."

"Reach into his mind, Dorian. Do not touch his memories, but his senses in the present. There you will find what you need. Let the Force be your guide."

Dorian rolled his eyes. Even so, he didn't have a better plan. As it was, he was still flying across the street. But he did as he was told; big righteous had saved him once, so it might work again. The warrior raised his hand, grasping once more the mind of his opponent, and surrendered himself to the current that flowed through all things.

For all intents and purposes, Dorian was still standing in front of the charging Murderhawke. He laughed as the smoke from the explosives cleared and looked at Leon. "I'm impressed! Good job being in pain all the time. Honestly I don't think I can hurt you more," he said with a laugh. As his opponent neared, Dorian flickered out of existence. Leon's sensors soon picked Dorian up behind him again, and the white-armored warrior danced away.

"How did you do it? Being so stupid, not even strong enough to protect your girlfriend? Come on, big man, what do you fight for? You're just waiting to die, aren't you? There's nothing for you here. Come on. I'll give you my spear, you can run yourself through with it." He spun his weapon easily, waiting for Leon to approach.

Across the street, Dorian groaned, listening to Lucien's call. <<"Got it,">> he grunted. Without his usual grace -- his landing hadn't been perfect -- the warrior leaped down towards the ground, softening his fall with the Force. Not soon after, he exited stage right.

Gat Tambor · May 31, 2020

( Drip courtesy Gideon Raith )

// "SSD" //
// OBJECTIVE // Tithe Collection
// YE TRACK // N E W S L A V E S - Y E E Z U S ( 2 0 1 3 )
// Free Market [NIO] //

Avernus
// Statists [TSE] //

Aerarii Tithe |

Darth Argentum |

Madelyn Lowe

"OWWWWEEEERRRRRRRRRREERR- You truly believe your Sith to be without flaw do you, Tithe? You stand ignorant of your history. It is the very plucky revolutionaries who had been been able to swing the pendulum of fate many times before. If such a revolution was so hopeless? Why would they embark on it? Because history has favored those willing to fight, as romantic as the sentiment may seem." Tambor stated. The remark that this was 'personal' might've been truer than the Skakoan ever cared to admit. He'd always lived in the shadow of the Sith after he'd embarked from the Clouds of Cormelish as a young, wide eyed Skakoan engineer looking to utilize his ingrained talents in the free and open market.

Starting his career within the confines of the Sith Empire, he'd worked to their whims and wishes. Selected to be Chairman of the IGBC, he was supposedly the puppet instrument to 'Dorian Harper' and 'Caulder Dune', the mortal proxies of powerful Sith Lords. Of course, when he was Viceroy, he was subjugate to Isley Verd, Darth Metus. Now, his own chains were broken. The Sith Empire had no reins over him, the IGBC's attempts to control him were aimless and futile. The CIS was so far on the periphery of Gat Tambor's ambitions, they did not matter. No gods, no kings, only Gat. He was in control now.

"Even if these 'Apostates' fall, they will leave the Sith irrecoverable. As we speak, Harnaidan is alight in flames all the while your Mygeeto is put to the sword. These are not any negligible worlds to your Sith, these are vital to the economic apparatus of your Empire. This is as much your stand as it is there. Run in defeat...the Galaxy knows that your 'Empire' is vulnerable. Even if you're victorious...you show just how threatening these scrappy revolutionaries can be. These rebels could be killed to a man...but the Sith would never kill me. None of my assets exist within their space, I had scraped them clean right under your nose when you were captured. But even so, they are a creed liable to on impulse to send warped messages...who is to say your fate will be any different?" Gat Tambor states in full, brazen confidence. So brazen in his sentiment the metallic seals of his armor begin to meticulously rupture, giving way for the released pressurized smoke giving way from the Turbo Annihiliator to the Skakoan beneath. Donning his armored bodyglove, Tambor steps from his armor toward Tithe. Meeting him on equal terms. Just as Tithe expected the IGBC chairman not to anticipate any bravery on his part, so too might Tithe not've expected Tambor to release himself from what gave him true power.

"They know how little we mean to them, and how little they mean to us. Lest you've tangled yourself in delusion over these these governments and powers. The question, Aerarii Tithe is if you're willing to die a man who served the whims of others, or a man who ruled his own destiny?" Tambor asks, the amber gaze beneath his thick, pressurized goggles narrowing as he looks to Tithe with his own eyes unfettered for the first time in this encounter.

Imperial Warlord Zovesa · May 31, 2020

POST 6

//MYGEETO //Objective 1: Battle in the Frost Cyclone // Sith Imperial Banking Clan Vaults At Southern Mesas//
//Location:// No Man's Land Bridge One
//Action:// Defeat Taeli Raaf
//Allies-in-Vicinity:// Vaulkhar
//Enemy RP Partner:// Taeli Raaf
//Accompaniment:// Imperial Force Corps Knights Battlegroup Aegis// LINK TO KNIGHTS BATTLEGROUP ORBAT [x]
//Equipment:// [LINK] //

When the High Knight Marshal landed on the other side of the clash between the Lord Executor and the Dark Councillor, the bracing impact of the landing made Zovesa’s body shudder. Commanding the suit to engage emergency actions, the powered suit activated the stim and bacta auto-injectors. Her battered body was infused with healing chemical concoctions that brought an enhanced bodice about her innards that halted what growing damage it could. Leaping from her bracing landing, Zovesa sprang forward in a full natural sprint. In that split moment, the Dark Councillor had whirled about, ripping a dark shade from her body that animated itself with undulating smoke and shadow. It fought the Lord Executor, freeing the Sith to fall into her previous Makashi barrage and rush to Zovesa. The Darkside provided powers that could rip reality to form any abomination that added them. Zovesa knew it well and the visage of the phantom made her resolve to never again allow its temptations to infect her warrior’s spirit.

Zovesa twirled her saber in rapid arcs about her body, using the twirl to mark out her sphere of influence and telegraphing the movement of her body to the foe into the Niman form. But, the display was a ruse, designed to conjure the image of a warrior preparing for an advancing attack. During the distracting display of twirling, Zovesa’s other hand and reached for the pistol holster strapped to the side of her combat vest. She unbuttoned the cover flap that kept her pistol nestled in its place. As Zovesa reached the Sith, she swiped at the Dark Councillor in a slashing cut that came down upon the dark lady from shoulder and aimed to slice down to the opposite waist. But, hidden that decoy motion was a secondary attack. As the saber came down, Zovesa’s pistol was unleashed from behind it’s silvery shadow. With it set to semi-auto it exploded three rapid fire rounds of sonic energy, tearing the air in front of it as kinetic sonic energy severed its way to crush the Sith.

//Meanwhile...Further Back Down Bridge One//
//Imperial Force Corps Knights Battlegroup Aegis//

Dreggs was pinned beside the surviving tank. He couldn’t find Zovesa. In the aftermath of the gunship crash and the death roll of the one of the cataphract tanks, his entire attention was regrouping his forces while under concentrated fire. The various fire teams of the Aegis Knights Battlegroup had managed to form up under shielded domes provided by squad-shield carriers. But, know that had regrouped enough to mount a secondary charge. Dreggs pulled in a Corps Knight who had used his Prowler Droid to scan ahead.

“I got her sir!” the Knight called out. “She’s far up front. Fighting a Sith Lady!”

“The Lord Executor is there too!”

“Schitt it all. We got to move up! Now! Press this while we can,” Dreggs shouted.

“We return to Task Pattern Reek! Shield Barriers up front, tanks cover with infantry using the tank’s profile as cover! Move!” He barked.

With that aegis began to move forward. Covered by advancing tanks and their barrages firing over the duel between the High Knight Marshal and the Dark Councillor into the Sith Forces behind, the Auxilia Troopers rushed forward. The furthest in front carried heavy Blastshields while troopers behind them unleash Reaper Chainblasters that sniped and pinned Sith Forces that had rushed past the duel.

“I’m coming Zovesa. Just hold out!” Dreggs whispered to himself.

The entire force of the Imperial Force Corps was now pressing a final charge to break the Sith Force formations. The final act of the Siege of Mygeeto was about to climax.

Ingrid L'lerim · May 31, 2020

Ingrid L’lerim
The Red Witch; Emperor's right hand; Director of Blackwatch; Baroness of Vengard

Objective: Objective 1: Assault on the planet's capital (to defend the capital)
Location: Capital City, Muunilinst
Equipment: Assassin armor with this look | sniper rifle | Black blade lightsaber | Red blade lightsaber shoto | 2x vibroblades | Stealth field generator
Tag: Open

Ingrid fought; time was running out around her, only the fight existed. Living, dead, dying peoples everywhere, from both sides. Burnt wounds, the smell of burnt flesh and shrapnel filled the air. Blood, not everyone used blasters and lightsabers, many of the soldiers used vibroblades. Something has not changed in history; the war was a mess, a dirty mess and it will always be. She usually killed others in the course of her work, but it was not the day, it was now just duty and massacre. For her, murder - as an assassin - was an art, a challenge, but there was no joy in it.

She wished several times during the fight she could be elsewhere, but she knows her duties, she knows where her loyalty lies. And these demanded a war now. Her armor was already damaged in countless places, everything hurt even the moving and thought too, but she did not give up. She marched forward, she killed, she butchered alongside with the TSE's army. They had to win the war today, they can't lose this planet. From the warrior beside her, she sprayed blood all over her body and armor. She could barely see out of her helmet. She can't give up, she had to move on, keep fighting! Her father would expect the same from her if he were here.

Maybe hours had passed; they were still on the street, his lungs beeping with each breath. She wasn't really tired of fighting, but from the use of the Force, when she struck the enemy to death with lightning. Maybe she was a Sith knight now, but she had to learn so much more, if she survived this. But she had an idea, she reached out to the Force, when she stepped back into the second row from the front. With the Force she tried to eliminate her fatigue. She did not succeed in full, but she did not give up on that. She stepped forward to the first line again.

Who knows how long it will take, but she continued to fight until they had the street, the capital, the entire planet again, until the enemy disappeared from the TSE’s territory. As long as she is still able to stay on her feet and collapse from exhaustion, unless the fight ends soon…

Wraith · May 31, 2020

// BUCKETHEAD - 3 //
// MUUNILIST // ASSAULT ON HARNAIDAN // SURVIVE //
// New Imperial Storm Recon Armor Mk. I // KXR SBR-60x Particle Beam Battle Rifle // Tech IL-25X Sniper Rifle
// FOCUS // Sam Deckard // Maiven //

Agrippa //

"You can't count on your second shot, Garrick. If you don't hit the first, you're as good as dead."

Wraith maintained the crossfire on the door for several long minutes, counting each of his breaths as he awaited the arrival of the Sith-Imperial forces. He'd seen many a mission beside Tempest. Garrick knew what the heavy-trooper was capable of better than anyone else. If anyone could escape the hellish cityscape, it was them. He refused to let go of that belief, even as the legionnaires swarmed from the turbo-lift and attempted to overwhelm the two stormtroopers through sheer numbers. Blaster fire screeched through the air, a combination of Deckard's high-powered chainblaster and Garrick's precise beam rifle laying heavy fire into the red-armored forms of the Sith-Imperial infantrymen. Each shot from the scout saw one less Sith loyalist, though even Wraith's accuracy couldn't hold a candle to the ruthless efficiency in which Tempest handled his chainblaster. Over a dozen bodies littered the floor between them and the turbo-lift, with more than half belonging to the larger stormtrooper.

"Keep it up, brother!" Garrick shouted out across the roof. His words of encouragement fell short of their mark as blaster fire erupted from adjacent buildings. Thinking quickly, the scout trooper hurried across the roof, taking cover nearby his companion. Davis shifted his attention from the turbo-lift, once more mounting his gun and taking aim, at the legionnaire's laying down fire across the gap. "You don't have what it takes to kill us, you housebroken fucks!" he tugged on the trigger, smiling as the bolt cleared the distance and tore through the Sith-Imperial's helmet. He lined up another shot and repeated the process, removing the opposing forces from the scene before shifting his attention to Deckard. "Southeastern nest is clear," Garrick reported. He found his next words trapped within his throat at the sight of even more soldiers falling onto their position, lining the adjacent buildings and pushing up through the turbo-lift's threshold. "Still not enough of you SOBs to keep us here!" he called out across the roof. "It'll take more than a handful of whipped pups to take us down!"

As the pair were practically surrounded, Garrick scanned the roof for a position that would offer a more defensible position, only to realize nothing presented itself. Fortunately, Deckard thought ahead, popping smoke to break line-of-sight with the northern flank. In turn, Wraith slid over another climate control unit and presented his back to the smoke. It was a risky gamble, but the onslaught of blaster fire from the south left him with no other choice. He pressed his helmet up against the scope, doing a broad sweep of the field before him to mark each target on their connected HUD. Once the already noticeable red armored forms of the legionnaires were further outlined by their tech, Garrick returned to work. His finger worked the trigger of his semi-automatic carbine faster than it ever had before. Hope, determination, and confidence permeated his being, the Imperial soldier's persona more comparable to a Jedi Knight in that instant. Though he lacked the force, Garrick found himself hyper-focused on the matter at hand as all other distractions melted away from his mind. They were going to survive and get back home. Nothing could stop them.

The sound of a heavy footfall from behind reached Garrick a split-second too late. He turned on his heel to face the oncoming threat, only to be met by the stock of a blaster rifle to the dome. He crumbled to the ground, his vision flashing white as the mixture of shock and pain overwhelmed his senses momentarily. He reached for the nearby carbine, only for the legionnaire's boot to kick the weapon away as he lined up his shot on the downed scout trooper. Garrick kicked out at the Sith-Imperial's knee and sent him stumbling back long enough for the New Imperial soldier to push back up and rush the man. Chasing him into the smoke, Garrick tackled the legionnaire to the floor and took hold of his helmeted head. He held tight between both hands before beginning to slam it against the duracrete flooring beneath them. Davis grit his teeth and ignored the hands pressing up at his chin in an attempt to force him back, only stopping once the legionnaire's struggling ceased entirely. Garrick struggled to his feet, unable to catch his breath as another silhouette rushed towards him through the smoke. Garrick unsheathed the beskar bowie knife from his side and stepped to his right as a glowing vibroblade cut through the haze. The scout trooper stepped inward, wrapping am arm around up and under the legionnaire's extended limb. Wraith kicked out at his trapped foe's knee and sent him up and over the stormtrooper's shoulder. A thud and gasp for air sounded on impact as the faceless soldier's back slammed into the ground. Not slowing, Davis dropped to a knee and drove the bowie-knife through the Sith-Imperial's visor, silencing the man for good.

Davis gasped for breath, his chest burning from the exertion of the drag-out struggle for survival. More blaster fire ripped past him, cutting through the smoke in his and Deckard's general direction. It began to fade away, sending a pang of fear through Garrick's being. He began to limp back towards his battle brother's position, struggling to push his already battered body past his limits. Breaking through the smoke, the scout trooper slid behind cover and scooped up his rifle before noticing the existence of an encroaching legionnaire, eyes widening from surprise. Davis lifted his blaster, arms shaking from the strain on his form, and pulled the trigger. The blaster bolt shot straight past the legionnaire, missing completely before thudding against a walled position behind him. Before the stormtrooper could take another shot, searing pain ripped into his side, sending him tumbling to the floor half a dozen paces from the heavy trooper. Davis yelped out in pain, his hand pressed against the bolt's point of impact. He looked towards the first legionnaire he missed, followed by the second who dropped him with the well-placed shot.

"Well, have at it then!" Garrick roared in retaliation, his free arm muscling through an awkward crawl in the first's direction as if he'd somehow overwhelm the man. Fortunately, the rapid firing chainblaster swept over the area, several bolts crashing into both men. Deckard pushed closer, scooped up the scout trooper, and tugged him behind cover. "Thanks, brother," Garrick muttered to the stalwart trooper. At the sound of the gunship's appearance, Davis elbowed Sam and pointed. "Look! I told you we're gonna make it, c'mon!" he pushed himself up beside Tempest and limped alongside him, unable to look back and take their surroundings in full for fear of what he'd see. It did him no good. Another blaster bolt found purchase on his bad leg, ripping along the armor plating with enough force to steal away his footing and cast him to the roof once more.

"Gah!" Garrick hit the ground hard, losing his blaster rifle as it slid away. He pushed down, his body unresponsive as exhaustion weighed the crippled soldier down. "Sam," he muttered out, his voice coarse from continued use. He barely registered the larger man's arms tugging him up from the ground and taking his weight once again, unbending in resolve. "We're g-gonna make it- it, brother," Davis held onto that hope, even as the gunship pulled further away and dropped some few feet. The feeling of Sam's hand tugging Garrick's wrist up left the dazed scout trooper confused. "What are you doing, Tempest?" he asked the question, head tilted to the side as the world seemed to shrink around them. Everything else faded into the background as the heavy trooper's dog tags were placed in Davis' hand and pushed away. "Why are you giving me these?" he tried to struggle out of Sam's hold, realization taking form behind his visor. "No!" he struggled harder, unable to break the larger man's grip.

Before Davis could stop him, Sam pushed forward and shoved the smaller scout trooper across the gap. Garrick felt weightless, sick, and terrified all at the same time. It felt as if his stomach had leaped up into his throat, only to come crashing down into its typical pit as a pair of stormtroopers caught him and pulled him deeper into the gunship. He struggled against them, trying to push back towards the ramp.

"No! Tempest!" Wraith pressed his good leg against the inside of one trooper's knees and kicked out while driving an elbow against the other's helmeted head. Finally free, he hurried towards the ramp, only to find it latched into place, cutting the two soldiers off. Garrick raised both hands and beat against the hull's interior. "Sam! You bastard!" he found it almost impossible to breathe, his chest heaving in response to the overexertion made by the already trembling man. He pulled the helmet aside and tossed the scarred article away, tears crashing down his face. "Buckethead doesn't leave a man behind!" he roared out, voice cracking. "No, no, no," Davis turned and limped his way towards the cockpit. "Put this bird down! Now!"

Several wounded men and women looked up at him, a mix of confusion and horror crossed their features. The two men who'd backed off to give him space in respect for his loss quickly hurried after him. They locked their arms around each of his and pulled him back.

"Put this fucking bird down!" Garrick screamed, his entire body shaking as his heart raced. "Our brother is down there!"

"Get it together, corporal," an icy voice cut through the ship. Davis looked up at the man, his expression hardening. "If we put down, every single one of us is as good as dead. You're one of the better ones," the soldier paused, sweeping out towards many wounded soldiers, some missing limbs, others unmoving aside from the weakening rise and fall of their chest. "Our brother just saved all our lives. Respect his sacrifice, or I'll throw you down there to die with him, understood?"

Wraith remained silent, unable to offer anything more than a nod of affirmation. The two other trooper's holding the scout in place helped move him to a bench, where Davis took a seat and allowed his head to hang low. Buckethead squadron never left a man behind, it was the promise they made to one another when it formed. His hands rose, catching his face as it fell further down. More tears spilled down his ragged features. His shoulders bounced along with each labored breath as Davis quietly sobbed in the corner, kept company by the fallen stormtrooper's dog tags tangled up in his fingers.

Irveric Tavlar · May 31, 2020

// IMPERATOR | ENIGMA ACTUAL // 1st ‘Punished’ Stormtrooper Legion
// OBJECTIVE // Harnaidan
// THEMATIC // Seeing red again (Lucien Dooku theme)
// ENGAGING //

Cara Dorniarn
// NIO - Allies // FN-999
// TSE - Enemy //

Mazrim Caide/Taim

Cara Dorniarn said:
"You've become blinded Tavlar! You're not seeing--"

"Damn your repetitive chatter! A broken holo you are with it. I believe nothing, give nothing, serve nothing unless I weigh the cost of the outcome! You keep looking at the loss and not what is gained--"

"No, you can't look past the cost of an Empire. How are you going to fare when you realize your New Order requires the same price? Who will you blame then, Imperator?"

A sentiment far too familiar, far too deeply raking in its implications of him. What he'd sought to conceal behind a shroud of frigidness, of unmovable will had been stripped naked to find the man rattled by guilt and obligation. In a deep and rigid contrast to the very gods he tangled with. He was imperfect, mortal, flawed. Even still, he had conceded himself to the warped interpretations of his damaged consciousness.

Lyra Voi'kryt said:
“That’s it then..”

“They are a necessary sacrifice then.”

“I’m so kriffing through with your propaganda!”

“Don’t give me that shavit! Take your martyrdom and stuff it, you’re a man Irveric not an ideology!”

Pain. Hatred. Both resonating between the two of them it drowned out everything else in a constant tangle with the other. When she planted her fist into flat 'crete he was quick to his feet again, establishing his footing as he maintained a distance between the two, the pair each seeming to favor reaction over action.

<"~~I'v~~e paid the p~~rice~~."> Tavlar spat out to her, his voice strained and guttural even past the distortion of the damaged helmet clasped around his head. He'd been adept in clasping it within a silent tomb of his subconscious. Very few things could draw it from his hole, not outright, not here, not in front of his men. They couldn't see him like this, they had to know that his head was level at all times, that he wouldn't falter as a leader on the field. But here, he was failing - showing his pride in spades as he struck and combated the woman in single combat. Lost in the chaos, in the fray around them he might've been able to call on them all to end it, end her.

But calcifying his rage was not so easy, as the beskar steel horn continued to pierce his skull, a foreboding and aching reminder of his crimes. They might've been able to excise it but he elected that it stay, as a penance. It was the price. Whatever she could tell him, she could not say he hadn't paid the price of Empire. The Sith had broken and beaten him down several times over. The man conscripted from a life destined for nothingness in solitude was now a manifestation of defiance and he would make due.

Spotting her hands headed for the knives mounted to her chestplate he was quick to take the initiative again. Swinging his left arm out he fired a grappling line from his vambrace toward her knees in the hopes of wrapping the cord around her lower legs before wrenching his arm back and down with a pace set away from her to force her from her footing again as he began to retract the line and pull her toward him, his right hand reached for the hilt of the sword retracted and fixed to his belt, slamming the activation switch the crossguard swung out in time with the Phrik blade's extension as he held it in a downward grip with the tip of the sword facing the earth. In immediate succession he aimed to lunge the blade into her stomach near the mark of his first assault and impale her into the ground beneath.

Tessa · May 31, 2020

Location: Streets of Harnaidan
Objective: Get Lenses Medical Help
Allies:

Sturit Goan
Enemies: Open
Gear: Body | Armor in Digital Urban Camo | Pistol | Knife

Through some miracle or other, they weren't confused as the enemy. Maybe it was Sturit, who gave them a nod when they passed, or maybe it was just the recognizing of the armor type. It didn't much matter to her. Their mission had been finished. They'd taken Resata, cleared it of enemies save for a few who were now poking around but wouldn't be for long with a column of tanks heading their way. She'd also successfully gotten her last remaining squad member to that column of tanks, which was more than she had expected to do. She'd figured they'd all be making their triumphant march through the city at some point. Instead, three members of her squad were dead and the fourth wasn't going to be able to serve anymore.

"Soldier!" a voice called from the back of a transport. "Over here!"

She turned towards the voice, thankful to see a member of the medical corp. Sturit had probably informed them of what she'd called in. She carried Lenses over and passed him gently into waiting hands before climbing in herself. The doors shut behind her and she sat down on a bench before removing what was left of her helmet. She held it in her hands, looking it over before setting it down beside her. It was nothing but scrap now, and completely useless to her as she no longer had need of her comm.

"You look like hell," one of the medics said as he looked at her. "And metallic."

"I was born with brittle bone disease. I had must of my body replaced so that I wouldn't be stuck floating in a hoverchair for the rest of my life."

"Ouch. Can't say I blame you."

"Don't worry over me. What about him? Will he make it?"

The medic that was busy looking over Lenses, currently removing his armor, nodded. "He'll live, but he's not in good shape. You did good getting him here."

Good. She did good. Leaning her head back against the wall she sighed and nodded before closing her eyes. She wasn't physically tired. Her body couldn't get tired. Mentally, she was exhausted, though. At least the shelter of the tank column seemed secure. Maybe she could rest for just a few moments before going back into the hell. She'd earned it, right?

Yeah, she'd earned it.

Darth Quizitus · May 31, 2020

Post: 7
Location: Bridge B, Southern Mesas, Mygeeto
Faction Objective: 1
Allies: Amur |

Madelyn Lowe |

Jyon Hlervu |

Aerarii Tithe | Sith Empire forces
Enemies:

Imperial Warlord Zovesa |

Hunter Blackburn |

Darth Bellum |

Darth Kentarch | New Imperial Order forces
Gear: Listed in Character Bio
Theme
Immediate Objective: Fall back and regroup

Mid might have underestimated his opponent in this one. Definitely a reminder that not all front line grunts were simply expendable cannon fodder. The Sith Lord should have known better, but at his age things like that tend to slip by now and then.

The soldier soared through the air, the force push doing nothing against the force-defying weapon in the soldier's hand. He didn't have time to react to the confusion he was experiencing as a jet of flames came at him. With no chance of avoiding damage, he merely leapt aside, using the force to blast him a good distance away from the soldier. Animalistic growls escaped the Pureblood as his robes burnt his skin, but once he was a safe distance away, the flames all dissipated as he used the force to kill it. To avoid having a confident soldier on his case further, he used the force simultaneously to summon debris, pieces of armour and just about anything in his immediate vicinity to create a storm of durasteel and deadly shrapnel around him, spinning at devastating speeds and keeping anyone at bay.

Mid was furious at the action taken against him. His skin stung and gnawed at him as the burnt flesh made contact with the harsh, cold winds howling around them. Combined with the shrapnel and other minor injuries he sustained through the battle thus far, he was getting a little worn as well. He hated to admit it, but perhaps not being in a major warzone for over a century might have given a beating to his "performance". Though that Knight better keep her mouth shut if both of them survived this ordeal.

Radio chatter was also buzzing in his ears and he couldn't help but actually pay attention. It was starting sound like bugging out was a good idea. Every fiber in him wanted to charge at this grunt and tear him apart -or die trying- his more rational side was telling him to fall back. So he decided to suck up his ego, let go of this fight and fall back. It wasn't worth it. To cover his escape into the blizzard and back to Sith lines, he used the whirlwind of debris as a shield, occasionally hurling pieces at the soldier or any other imperials getting between him and his destination. It wouldn't take long for him to get there, relying on the force to boost his speed as well as the suppressing fire of Sith soldiers. He would reach their side of the bridge in no time and broke off towards the medical area...it was safe to say that he was probably destroying the reputation of the Sith Empire all on his own.

Unfortunately for Adrial's troops, though, their mission wouldn't go without misfortune. A few of the cannons on the Diogenes quickly picked up on the advancing soldiers that used some form of gas to conceal them from prying eyes. When they hopped over the Sith barricade and cleared the area around them, several laser cannons fired at them, their intensity and explosive force cutting their lives short before refocusing on other targets that threatened the immediate perimeter. Though they had yet to pick up the sneaky Sith Lord carefully closing in with a rather explosive package...

Darth Morrow · May 31, 2020

Objective: Track The Idiotic Apprentice
Destination:

Irveric Tavlar |

Cara Dorniarn
Vibes: [x]
--

It only took a short time for the radio silence to eat away at the little patience the woman had remaining. During her wait the Blackrose Legionaries already touched down on the surface below, wreaking havoc on what opposition they may come across; though their leader, she still sat at the ready. Another feeling clawed at the monstrous woman's chest, something she couldn't describe; surely if she had a heart, perhaps it would ache. Deep yellow eyes impassively watched the fight of space, the engagements proving death to one side or another all while she sat, and did nothing. The incessant crawling of a presence tortured her mind, gripped the edge of her attention and kept her focus unmanageable; her former apprentice dwelt on the surface below; her state of being poor, enough to drive the feeling of a knife into her masters would be heart. There were few beings in existence that earned a place in Morrow's thoughts; Cara Dorniarn was one of them.

Within moments of her indecisive pace the tenebrous being made way for her transport; it casting off towards the surface at a dangerous pace. Whether she was traitorous or not, Morrow had only few to carry on her legacy. Her life always hung in the balance, her existence purely held together by the capabilities her connection to the force had; and should one day someone tarnish her connection-

Long thin fingers clung to the dash of her ship, molten eyes watching the surface as the presence grew stronger in her mind. Concern, anger, hatred, something boiled deep inside of her as she drew closer and closer to the planet. Perhaps it was that she chose to save Cara, instead of driving a pillar of metal through her former husbands weak and disgusting form-

There was an audible crack as a section of metal cracked under the weight of her non purposeful exertion; was all of this really worth it? The question droned on in her mind, distance closing in, honing on the fading energy. The illusion of her form crackled as it became more and more unstable; dark force energy swirled and whipped off the inhuman woman; the anticipation only furthering her decay and loss of control over her appearance.

When the transport touched down, it was an entirely difference being that traversed down the ramp; not one of supposed skin and flesh, but a sight more horrifying than many had ever seen. Darkness consumed the life around it as the shadowy figure moved towards its destination, those it passed cowering in fear or attempting to shoot into the nothing that made up its form; blaster fire and bullets passing through one side and out the other and occasionally into their own allies. With nothing more than a wave of her hand the earth beneath them could give way, swallow them whole and crush their bones in sickening ways- though Morrow wasn't here for them.

Ignoring the desire to change course, rip the man to shreds that she so deeply desired to destroy, she continued on; only after a short time finding the two she hunted like a predator stalking its prey. Only then she arrived just in time to see Irveric Tavlar ready to drive a sword through her apprentice. Like a haunting spirit she loomed, standing at a distance as she watched without interruption, it was in Cara's hands to have the will to survive, Morrow could only help her will become a reality.

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

MOFF-PROTECTOR

we shall all die willingly

Nothing Given

Melia Siari

Guest

Lord of Eternal Conflict

Amur

Guest

Protector

Sam Deckard

Guest

Heir to the Empire

Thraztin

Guest

Character

Brazen Soul

Director

Imperial Warlord of the Redoubt Governorate

E T E R N A L - E M P R E S S

Overwatch

Here's to You

Tessa

Guest

Darth Quizitus

Guest

Queen of Horror

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