Invasion Shame on the Night // NIO Invasion of TSE held Helgard and Cadomai

[Jivim Vaak]

Helgard
Allies: NIO | Enlil | Var Koon | Fiolette Fortan | Naier Rambeigh
Enemies: TSE | CIS | EE | Moff Drybis Lyken | Kiff Brayde | Tristan Evore | Seela Leini | Alamara Tesco

Current Kit: [TIE/INx Interceptor]

[THEME]

​

The trip within the rabbit hole that is Hyperspace was longer than expected, the anomalies of space were on the enemy's side, unfortunately. But the newly formed Razor squad was closing in, and fast. The premiere of Vaak's flight skill was coming. From Gravewalker to Starfighter Pilot. The now Second Lieutenant was eager to prove his mettle. After a brief check-in and a crack of gloved knuckles, Vaak took hold of the controls of the interceptor, ready.

The shuttle broke out of hyperspace and the blue hue was replaced with the space battle on Helgard's orbit. The pack of interceptors detached and sped off to the ensuing chaos that awaited them. "It's showtime." The Rattatak pilot stated quietly to himself, a hand dialing over to the throttle to achieve maximum speed. The pressure placed onto him as he sped off, was somewhat of a high for the former soldier. He was used to the heavy gear that limited his person back then, but with this starfighter, he moved with absolute grace and he reveled in it. With a slight turn and a push of a button, his targeting computer cycled into his first victim that was just a few hundred meters away. With a gaze shifting from computer to cockpit view, he adjusted to get the enemy fighter on his reticles. A finger drifted below the targeting computer, the power was directed to focus on weapon systems instead of speed.

With but a squeeze on the controls, the quartet of laser cannons fired their famed green bolts towards its victim whose back was exposed to the new pilot.

Shields breaking. The hull melting from the intense firepower. The enemy's ship breaking apart in the manner of combustion. Razor 5 sped through, an exhale was produced within the confines of his helmet. His first kill made for the New Imperial Order, more was to come as he pulled back on his controls and flew upward.

A few bolts here and there attempted to reach him, but the maneuverability of an Interceptor was something to admire for the bolts missed by mere meters. The pilot turned the ship about in the form of a drift to meet whatever it was on his tail, but the flash from an explosion was met to the alien's eyes. Vaak was called out on comms.

"Got you, Razor 5." A fellow squadmate transmitted.

"Didn't need to waste the rocket 4, but thank you." The Pilot replied, giving a soft shrug to ease his shoulders.

"Cut the chatter. Form up on me and adjust on my bearing. We still have a lot of fighters to deal with." A gruff and feminine voice emitted, Razor 1. The squad leader, who within moments was followed by the pilots under her command. The compliant squad formed a wedge formation, Vaak took part on the right echelon keeping a similar pace to the squad leader.

Now with some of the stragglers dealt with, the trial of chaos ceased and the real thing was inbound.

The formation of half a dozen interceptors was met with a mixture of lasers and explosions coming onto their sides, almost effectively hitting the fast mover squadron. Once the squadron closed in on a batch of cruisers warring against each other, a command was provided. "Break off and cut off any fighter support for that cruiser!"

A sound strategy to provide an opening for bombs to hit their target, the interceptors all broke off into separate directions to chase after their prey. But Razor 5 continued in the haste of maximum speed towards the enemy cruiser, some of the turrets closing in on him. With enough time to react, he turned the control over to the side a bit and then to the opposite side. Spinning about counter-clockwise and once the targeting computer let out a heavy ding sound, the pilot was quick to deploy a fair barrage of missiles onto the turrets. The ordnance was brought through effective delivery. The fighter pilot dove off and away from any potential interference from the cruiser to prepare a new parcel of missiles.

So far so good, and a new target was presented to the Pilot as one of his squadmates started to grow a tail. With a push of his throttle, he sped off to return the favor to Razor 4.

 

[Ragnar the Blooded]

HELGARD
SAUOAFELLSLOND
257TH LEGION
Allies: The New Imperial Order
Engaging: Darth Strosius

Ragnar possessed a font of knowledge needed to test the patience of Sith. The right words to say to press their buttons and bring them closer to that edge that they would always denied existing. Weakness, their strength, the possibility that they were in fact, not breaking any chains and only adding more. He knew these things because it was things that had plagued his own thoughts in the past.

Order, Discipline, Duty, the Will.

All four of the Tenets pushed him to strive for more, to do and be more, far more than any Sith Code had ever sparked in him.

That limit that Ragnar pushed the Sith, he could see it breaking, crumbling beneath the pressure of the jabs and thrusts, and then... His patience wore thin. The Sith leapt to the side causing Ragnar's grip on the staff change entirely. Shifting with Darth Strosius , the back end of the saberstaff ignited, sprouting past the Zabrak's body by his hip. Rotating upwards and clockwise, the saberstaff flew upwards, catching the crimson saber as it arced in to cleave his chest apart. Silver on crimson, the smell of ozone invaded his nostrils, and then the rotation continued in an attempt to push the Sith off to his own left, unbalanced.

The Knight Errant wasted no time in pressing the attack.

Lurching forwards, the rotation of the saberstaff from the backend to the right of his body would see it between the Sith's saber and his own body, if he didn't pull back. Slashing upwards, the right side of his saberstaff shot up first in an arcing move to burn across the Sith's throat. The left side of his body surged forwards too a second later, slashing at the Sith's right leg across the knee in a bid to cripple him.

"Order.[p/color]" Ragnar rasped out, the first tenet of the Codex.

 

[Mazrim Caide/Taim]

Objective: Siege of Hjallaheim

Caide moves through the twisted, icy ruins of the city with the cold tactical acumen of a veteran soldier, sweeping corners and cutting tight angles with his rifle held high while he sticks to cover. Listening as best he can for sounds of movement over the howling sub zero winds, he guns down New Imperial troops wherever he comes across them with ruthless efficiency. Caide’s doctrine of impersonal violence did not apply here. These jackboots had dropped a building on him. He hadn’t been that close to death in a long time, and he was furious. So he hunted roving squads like some unholy geist in the frozen hellscape, rushing in with his blaster and combat knife in a whirl of brutality and slaughter before rushing off back into cover leaving nothing but blood and smoking bodies in his trail. They want total war? He’d give it to them.

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Post 2: Second-to-Last-Change
Armor: X | Lightsaber: X | Theme: Sif
Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

​

The emotions within her were staggering to even the Autarch, who watched with keen sight as the woman of his ever-lasting hatred charged at him with an unparalleled fury. Her screech, though muffled by her helm, was heard clearly through the Force, radiant with a twilight he had rarely seen before. In all his years, he had only encountered this form of repressed explosive passion a handful of times, and three of those times resulted in his death. But this one would not. He knew it would not. This was his world, his people, and, most importantly, his way, and she would learn the error of hers and die...or would she?

Truly, in another life - and even in this one - she would have made a fantastic Sith. The well of hatred inside her blackthorn heart was immense and she reminded him of an ashen steed of nightmares as she practically galloped across the thick ice. Wisps of snow and frozen glass flew into the air with each step and the man merely watched her charge, wondering. He was certain of his victory, this is true. But...looking at her and feeling her rage...the man began to ask himself if she truly needed to die? A question that was asked with the rise of an old feeling he quickly suppressed.

Yes, she had to die.

The skeletal man braced himself for her coming attack, raising his blade into a defensive stance, the red gleam of it casting a hellish light upon his masked face. She would strike at him, and he would block. Yes. He would block.

And so she leaped into the air with catlike agility, rapid and nearly invisible against the light, only seen by the radiance of her lightsabers that betrayed her so foolishly. With a flesh-less grin, he brought his blade to bear milliseconds before she crashed down onto him with such force that his feet dug into the ice by an inch. He responded just as quickly with his own slashing attack that she too blocked with the same perfect passion as she had held the entire fight.

Back and forth they went, dodging and weaving, slashing and stabbing in ever possible angle, a deadly mixture of Jar'Kai and Djem So. It was for such a time that Kascalion once more became lost in the woman's brutality, in her enraged strikes, and the fact that they had barely moved from the position at which Lyra had landed.

It was a dance that they shared in their mutual loathing as their strikes connected in synchronous style as if corresponding to the beats of a song. After yet another series of strikes, the man found that his opponent had been able to land more grazing strikes against his armor than he hers, a benefit of two blades and heightened speed. Indeed, due to his lack of true combat over the past few years and perhaps due to his studying of aggressive strength-based attacks much like his old self, Kascalion had lost much of his natural speed in favor of power. Clearly, this was a disadvantage in the fight.

The old feeling rose once again and was suppressed much slower this time.

At this point in the fight, he could not deny that he respected the woman's assault. His anger towards her was palpable as was his despising of this raven-woman, and still he began to...laugh after one last shared strike between the two. He could barely contain it as he gazed upon the red clashing with red and green, his dark jubilation creating a cascade of brilliant castrophanies as the sounds of their blades screamed in harmony. He held her in place and she him, intertwined into a now seemingly endless blade-lock, an event that finally brought that old feeling to the surface once again for Kascalion, one that he had forgotten.

His warrior's enjoyment.

Since this schism between Sith and Imperial began - or perhaps even long before that - Kascalion had been increasingly detached from himself, contrasting the intent of the body he now inhabited, and his actions and thoughts had become increasingly erratic and unrelated as if not even he knew what his role in the story was. He knew who he was now and where he came from and what had occurred over each of his lives, yet he had always felt before this day as if he were a character written by someone unsure of where the plot was going or what they themselves wanted. He always changed and was never the same.

It was happening even now.

For one battle he was confident, and in another he was silent and withdrawn and depressed. In this, he was certain of his victory but had started becoming...different. Indeed, nothing connected beyond who he was to the rest of the Galaxy and his belief in the Sith. To everyone else, he was the Devil Lion. The Devil. The Dread Autarch. Darth Malediction. Kascalion. The Sith'ari. He had donned a thousand faces, a thousand lies to blend in with.

He was all of these things and none of these things across many points in time.

And now, in this true first battle in years, where it was just him and his prey, one of his greatest villains, he felt as one. Once more was he changing, rewritten again - for the second to last time, in fact - but he felt like himself again at long last. Yes, he had the memories of who he was with this body and he had the experience and the knowledge and the skills, but he was still never himself. He was never able to apply what he had and nearly failed every single time. He lived off of being a conduit for the Dark Side without the substance that role required. He was merely a foe to fight.

But no longer.

No, now he felt his warrior's pride that could match the intensity of a Zeltron's lust. He felt his old power returning to him. He felt the might of the Skator Hai.

As the three blades sparked in that blade-lock, the man suddenly guffawed as if he were a villain on a children's holo-network special. Perhaps Lyra would notice his change in demeanor, Kascalion showcasing traits of self long buried with his dead name of "Kavar." Surely that is who now stood in front of Lyra. Not Kascalion. Not the Devil. Not Darth Malediction. But the original. The man who was king. The man who was once named Kavar. There was perhaps some merit to this as he now wondered what if Lyra were his apprentice? What if he rebuilt his kingdom within the Warlords of the Sith? What if he used Voyance to rebuild Credence and perhaps even find ways to revive his people?

What if?

"You impress me greatly, Lyra," he said, his empty sockets now bursting with such delightful crimson that the lenses of his helm had become filled with it. This she would notice: his voice was not a catastrophe in her ears. It was not wet charcoal. It was not fire and brimstone. It was tyrannical, yet human-esque with an accent none could hope to place. "You are a great warrior. The Dark Side is strrrooong with you. So tell me why do you waste your talents on...Irveric? On these Imperials? Have you ever felt like you truly belonged? They attacked you on Bastion...ordered to by the man who fathered your spawn. You were nothing more than another target. A Sith. So why not embrace it? Embrace the blackthorn heart beating in your chest and join me at last...use your powers and become legendary. Ensure the safety of your children. Ensure the safety of yourself. By my side, you can rule the Galaxy...the Vindicate...Darth Sybila."

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

Lord-Major Erskine Barran
1st Galidraani-Volunteers Armoured-Infantry Brigade,"Tal's Devils"
2nd Battalion,"Blue-Hearts"
New Imperial Order

LOCATION: Saoafellslond, inner-city

OBJECTIVE 2: Siege of Hjallaheim/Saoafellslond

ALLIES: Willan Tal Black Sgáire Ragnar the Untested Kosca Gaelt Savoh Muska Dorian Sicarrio Tiberius Noel Strasza Rika Hiro

<"HAW, SERRRR!!!! Whit ye gettin' oot yer tank fur, Milord?">

'Barran to CC One! Shut it, ya wee Jessie! Ah'm gawn fur a wee stroll, and yer welcome ti join me!'

<"Fat chance o' that, ya walloper! CC One out!">

Though Leftenant Myles couldn't hear him, Lord Erskine was wheezing himself silly with mirth as he started his walk uphill; to meet with the Captain of the Carrack Rangers engineer-company, as Barran had an idea he wanted to bring to Black Sgáire personally. Even with the occasional rockets and laser-streams flying redundantly away from his position, (without any midichlorian-related abilities to keep himself safe with) despite the massacre they were inflicting upon the advancing Helgardi warriors, some stray ordnance and the like were still slipping past the lines every now and again, another example of the wind-direction working against Sauafellslond's last-remaining active units. Many they were, yet still, it would never be enough if the Blue-Hearts were constantly goading the Helgardi into playing into their hands, and would only serve to increase the harm brought upon those of the Sith forces' forlorn advances.
They knew from the very start, ready to die instead of facing captivity and humiliation. I'd consider it commendable if it wasn't a Sith-aligned planet....

Looking upward, Erskine surmised he had roughly 200 metres to ascend in order to reach the riflemen and Carrack Rangers, seeing the combined efforts of the infantry on the plateau he was climbing towards in full, firing fervour. The views the Lord-Major was seeing were nothing short of breath-taking, as predicted with his good friend on Hoth, a conversation Barran was trying to forget until the superstitious element within began to run roughshod over his mind. Heggy's shrieks of laughter were seemingly bouncing around the inner-workings of Erskine's brain, a horrifying reminder seared itself into his mind, a darkening memory of the quartermaster's response to Barran's original revelation on Hoth.

'HEGGYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!', Erskine roared from the deepest corner of his gut, convinced his deceased quartermaster had followed him to Helgard in death, as the crack-shot CSM intended to when he was still alive. As his gaze drifted from the view of his riflemen's muzzle-flashes and rocket-launching smoke-streams, Lord Erskine looked through the falling snow for his dearly-departed friend, darting his eyes to the left, right and back to his left again until a stray rocket explosion caught his periphery on the right-hand side. Turning to meet the fiery explosion, and to brace against it's shockwave from a southpaw-sprawl, (to walk into-and-past it towards the small, smoky crater) Barran advanced through the fragmentation strewn around his approach, shouting,'WELL?!?!? YOU MADE IT TO HELGARD LIKE YOU WANTED!!! NOW SHOW YOURSELF!!!', somehow already knowing he'd find the CSM's spectral visage hiding in the flames.

As his boots teetered on the edge of the small, sooty crater, Barran's eyes locked on to Heggy's, growling,'Speak!', as his posture straightened up with shoulders back. Standing at-ease in the middle of a warzone, taking in the biting-cold winter air at altitude, it was as if Erskine belonged in such harsh environments; seemingly born in a snowstorm as he stood motionless, with wrathful eyes locked on to his deceased friend for the first time since seeing shades of his image on Bastion. Growing more impatient with the spectral form of his quartermaster, the Lord-Major drew closer to Heggy's ghost and bellowed,'SPEAK!!!', barking it into the face of the shade before him as his hands instinctively balled into fists.

'Keep yer guard up, Milord. Reaching the highest peaks of Helgard, one way or another, was my only real desire. Goodbye, old friend.'

An engineer-platoon's LMG nest were looking downhill to the progress of the reversing tanks, shooting at whatever lay beyond them to offer as much pressure for the aggressors as possible, until the central-facing gunner stopped firing; causing the NCO and the other gunners to stop working also, fixing on chiding him into action until they saw him pointing to a spot fewer than 50 metres away. Every barrel soon pointed in that general direction as the NCO ordered the gunners to hold their fire, knowing it was impossible for a Helgardi or Sith-trooper to have made it that far beyond the defensive perimeter, so the duties fell to the Sapper who noticed first, calling out the challenge,'HALT!!!!! THE WILL - I REPEAT, THE WILL!!!!', as loud as his voice could carry across the blizzard's winds.

'THE WIRE THAT BINDS US!!!! NOW TAKE ME TO YOUR CAPTAIN, SAPPER!!!!!'

The Blue-Heart accent of Galidraan 3 was all too recognisable, and so the entire nest changed their arcs of fire to cover the approaching snow-covered officer, though everyone present knew it would be Major Barran; such behaviours of Erskine's were becoming famous among the exiled Galidraanis of the NIO, and also among some of the commanders in the First Order's contingent on Hoth, such habits that made the image of the Lord-Major seem all the more intimidating to the brigade's lower rungs. Seeing that they weren't immediately under threat, the engineers unclipped their LMGs from their bipods and walked out to meet Lord Erskine, hoping to offer protection that would be more effective at close range; or at least until they'd safely returned to their makeshift-FOB with Barran in tow, then they could return the LMG's to their bipods as the spotter escorted the Lord-Major to Black Sgáire.
​

​

 

[Trajan Fett]

S U P E R C O M M A N D O
SONS OF MANDALORE
OPERATION IRON WILL
THE OATHSWORN 6/6
BASILISK WAR DROID
Beskar'gam | Main Weapon | Side-Arm | Melee | Grenades | Cradle

RIVER OF BLOOD

​

The entrance of Trajan flanked by his Oathsworn into the tower was abrupt, explosive. A two burst of disruptor rounds landed into the next Sith trooper, sending him trembling to the ground with a collapse of the limp corpse into ashen nothingness. Such was the nature of the brutal weapon. His group soon went down a corridor deeper into the facility.

<"Fett- snag whatever intel you can manage from the mainframe of this place, me and my men will set the charges to make sure there's nothing left for them."> The Sith. Nothing but the reckoning.

"You should've died on your homeworld, Mando! Like the rest!" A Sith knight barked out in guttural defiance, swinging a saber blade up toward Trajan's head as he rounded the corner. He left his body open to the assault and Trajan let the vibroblade attached to the wrist eject from the vambrace, thrusting out and jabbing it into the side of the knight's abdomen, a crack in the ebon armor, twisting as he pressed it deeper into the flesh before he shifted the rifle to the Sith's neck, speaking once,

<"Guess I'll just have to make you die for yours."> The searing scream of agony sounded off from the Sith as the disruptor took him. Such was the way of man.

They began to carve their way into the lower levels of the tower, to access the power source of the facility. The place where their explosive charges would be of most use.

ALLIES | NIO | SOM | Careena Fett | Ves Fett | Droz Munin | Djorn Bline | Vyca Durren
ENEMIES | TSE | OPEN

 

[Syd Celsius]

Syd viciously burned and slashed through the soldiers being fielded by Irveric Tavlar . She sustained wounds of course. She always did in these sorts of fights. But the suit began to seal her wounds and she made an immense use of Force Slow on four opponents before gutting them, some stormtroopers tried to engage her with Vibroblades but her use of Makashi and Niman counteracted their fierce, deadly slice attacks, her fighting style an elegant tornado of blade spins. It sickened her to her stomach to defend this place after all she had been through. All she had learned. But The NIO refused to listen. There was nothing noble in attempted Genocide, no matter the reason. It was bad enough it would likely happen with The Bryn'adul, given the scale of their crimes against the Galaxy, but The Helgardi were nowhere near as bad: They didn't deserve this. Syd had never tried to stop a species from being annihilated before. In that, she found some small solace in her actions, despite knowing she might have to inflict the same on the Bryn'adul. She didn't want to. But she saw no other practical way of stopping them. The thought had already made her wake up in the middle of the night. Aiding the Helgardi was one of the few chances of salving her conscience that she had come across lately.

Syd was here to give Laertia's mental state a break by taking up some of the burden. Laertia was starting to use the Light in a way that felt strange but familiar...

Laertia was in a terrible mental state the more she crossed swords with other Jedi. It hurt her deeply to stay true to her belief that fighting Bryn'adul was the real issue. And yet the NIO put up constant frustrations and distractions, with Ryv only making it easier for them...

Syd linked her blades together into a staff, breathing red hot flames into a storm trooper with extra shielding.

Pig like metallic squeals erupted from her throat as heavy cryo spray was launched at her from three angles by specially equipped NIO Stormtroopers with thermally resistant armor and shielding using wrist mounted projectors. Parts of Syd's suit and flesh froze and broke off, necrotized and revealing glowing green muscle beneath, making the Force Spawn retreat into flames to boost her recovery time, as they advanced, dousing the flames and her with more cryo spray, slowing her wound regeneration right back down. Snarling, she used Force Slow on one and dodged another concentrated blast of cryonic chemicals, only to be attacked by a staff wielding Imperial Knight who had braved the flames. He went 007 strikes against her own fire bladed staff before he was decapitated by her, using his corpse to shield her from another cryo blast, before Force Pushing it out towards one of the cryo equipped troopers, pulling his spare heavy blaster out and one shotting another through his visor, before hurling herself at the remaining one with Force Flight, dodiging his cryospray and cryoban rifle, tackling him and emptying her stolen pistol into his neck.

She was wounded, patches of flesh on her torso, limbs, and face frozen off, leaking glowing green blood, but tge wounds were beginning to recede, and the need to see Laertia again at the end of this drove her to cut yer way through more troopers, conjuring more flames...

Then she spotted Ryv in the distance.

Syd had a more than healthy respect for his capabilities...she had watched Laertia crush those considered highly skilled duelists, and that Ryv had survived was testament to what had tried and failed to kill him prior to the duel at Dantooine.

But Syd had one thing Ryv didn't: Sorcery.

Syd cut her way through stormtrooper after stormtrooper, wounds sealing up more and more due to her blue and gold armor, until finally she could see him clearly and he could not fail to spot her.

Syd guarded with her blade.

"Didn't take long for the mask to fall off the NIO, Karis! Do you condone the unnecessary slaughter of all these Helgardi? Because I sure as hell won't..." Syd called out to him, stabbing an Imperial Knight in the stomach without looking as he attempted to sneak up on her.

 

[Robogeber]

DELETED​

 

[Caarlyle Rausgeber]

Objective: A little down-time
Location: Oshetti Sector//Deep Space//NIV Tregessar
Task Force RECKONING

Marvellous. It looked simply marvellous. The cobbled streets. The grand spires and domes dominated the skyline. There were no skyscrapers. No industrial style smokestacks, and even the ugly Kuat Entralla monolith was gone, replaced by rustic beauty. And it melted the heart of Rausgeber. Nova Avalonia, reborn. The heart of Prefsbelt IV, and his power turned from industrial depot to cultural heart of the New Imperial Order. A real home outside the bunkers and star destroyers. The designs were drawn up meticulously by teams of both engineers, artists and military advisors. All groups having lent a hand in detailing a new utopia. Of course it now only existed on the desk of the Grand Admiral as a schematic in holographic form. Levitating and rotating slowly above the mahogany desk, as the old man watched, tracing every street and avenue. This would surely exceed the vision of bureaucrats like Madelyn Lowe. Both practical and defensible, yet abstract with its strong stone structures. The beep of an entry into his outer office however caused Rausgeber’s young heart to skip a beat.

Nirvana faded from his mind, and a scowl creased itself upon his youthful features. The Grand Admiral snarled, and rested back in his chair. He did not bother to turn off the hologram. It would stay up. “Come in!” Carlyle barked venomously, before straightening his posture. The door hissed open, exposing the darkened office to the light, briefly piercing while the figure stepped forward. “Approach the desk.” The door then shut with an audible crunch as it locked again, and the intruder approached, boots clicking against the durasteel plating. Carlyle’s aged eyes examined the interloper, his uniform and then rank. “Captain Dunning.” Rausgeber drawled, “I believed I had left you in the capable hands of Commodore Gowe.”

Dunning was like many in the Prefsbelt Navy. Lanky and lean from years of eating nought but scavenged rations. He met the Grand Admiral’s gaze before his head bowed, “Grand Admiral Rausgeber, I have a report of urgent importance.” Dunning reported, swallowing, and then moving his gaze to rest upon the Grand Admiral’s rank plaque. Carlyle’s glare intensified itself and he rose from his seat, and began to move around the desk.

“Is it now Junior Captain?” The Grand Admiral teased the embarrassing adenium to his rank with vicious malice, “Surely, if it was so important, it would have been communicated to me via the appropriate channels.” The Grand Admiral sneered, “And yet here you stand, before me in my office.” Carlyle approached menacingly, drawing closer to the officer, “Intruding on my personal time."

“I assure you sir,” Dunning stammered, eyes now looking down at his crisply polished boots, “What I have is of critical...intrigue, to-to you sir.” He then winced, “And the current.... The current operation sir!”

Carlyle strode around Dunning, like a circling predator. He was savouring this, not unlike a Sith, “Is it now, Hugo?” The Grand Admiral glowered, stepping in front of the officer, “Now do tell me why, if this information is critical to me, and not the mission?” The Grand Admiral inquired, taking another lap around him, “And why the dear Commodore could not inform me herself, if it is so important?” Rausgeber turned his back to Dunning for just a moment, reconfiguring his desk, as to display the ongoing battle over Helgard, “Operation Purge Darkness goes well. Telemetry dispatched shows that the Mandalorians, King Enlil and Fortan have dispatched themselves, and the battle does not appear to be at a critical juncture. So why should I care?”

“Grand Admiral, I realise that,” Carlyle turned to face Dunning with palpable contempt plastered across his features, “However sir,” The Junior Captain moved toward the display, and looked up at the Grand Admiral, “If I may, of course.” There was a slow nod, and the display then zoomed in upon the battle. And that was when Rausgeber recognised it. The Storm King. “It appears Confederate forces have entered the fray sir. Including one of the Confederate dreadnoughts present at Dantooine, is leading a portion of the battle sir.”

Carlyle’s head slowly turned toward the Junior Captain. He could feel the blood pulsing through his ear drums. An eye twitch, and fists curling, “And the Commodore knew about this?” He hissed. The anger was there, and it was certainly building. Dunning nodded. Of course Gowe did not want to face the Confederacy again. Dantooine and its humiliation had left deep scars on all. But Carlyle did. And with renewed resolve. “You’re a very sneaky little snake now aren’t you Captain?” Rausgeber condescendingly chided brushing past him, “A bastard after my own heart.” He scoffed, before turning at the entrance to the darkened office. “You will get to the comms station. Inform Vice Admiral Voss and Admiral Hardy that we are moving to depart.” The door then shut, leaving Hugo Dunning illuminated by the battle.

​

Objective: PURGE DARKNESS
Location: Helgard Orbit//NIV Tregessar
Task Force RECKONING
Allies: Kestus Bralor | Fiolette Fortan | Enlil | Jivim Vaak
Enemies: Kiff Brayde | Moff Drybis Lyken | Tristan Evore | Seela Leini | Alamara Tesco

Revenge would be his as the NIV Tregessar ripped through lightspeed. Operation Purge Darkness had been clear in its planning that the New Imperial fleet would have reserves waiting to act. Something Task Force Motherland had failed to act upon during the failed Dantooine incursion. Now Carlyle hoped the shoe was on the other foot. It would be Dantooine reaped upon the opposing fleet. Now would be his time to avenge his pride. Striding across the bridge, Commodore Lilya Gowe was a shadow of her former self. “Grand Admiral, I assure you sir, that we are still in place to win the battle. Our intervention may be too early sir, the-”

“You will hold your tongue, Lilya.” Carlyle snapped back at his subordinate. She seemed a little shocked at his tone. But Carlyle continued, “We lost our pride and our initiative over Dantooine. I was gifted, this position with the knowledge that I could perform for the Sovereign Imperator.” Rausgeber glared at her with slitted eyes filled with seething contempt, “And I will not allow the architect of that failure. This, this whelp, Brayde be allowed to thwart our efforts again.” The Grand Admiral licked his lips, “The Confederacy must be taught a bloody lesson upon this battlefield and show their backing of the Sith will only reap widows and orphans on their homefront.” Carlyle proceeded to the fore of the command deck, “Time till arrival?”

“Estimated, one minute sir!” The Navigator reported, looking up from her post in the crewpit. Now the bridge of the Tregessar was wrought with the chaos that preceded every battle. Troopers moving to battlestations. Technicians making their final checks, and officers readying their men. And among it all, for the first time since Project SUNRISE’s success he could drink the atmosphere in. And it was delicious. Hearing, with real ears. Drinking in the sight, with real eyes. It was a feeling he had sincerely missed.

The Tregessar lead the charge, followed by its mighty escort fleet. The second wave of reinforcements had arrived. Vessel after vessel leaped from lightspeed, adding a barrier of weaponry to the New Imperial armada. “Contact our commanders,” Rausgeber barked to the crew pits, “Fall Grau is in effect.” All command would be surrendered to the Prefsbelt Commander. He now leaned on the comms table, and keyed in coordinates, and soon a conference began. The Mandalorian, Bralor, his majesty King Enlil and Fiolette Fortan appeared before him. “Ladies and gentlemen,” The Grand Admiral began, his youthful visage projected to them. “I have been alerted that the Confederacy of Independent Systems has once again engaged us.” Now the Tregessar and her gargantuan guns, in tandem with those of the Malice, Prefsbelt and Gorgon now opened fire upon the Storm King and her escort fleet.

“I have thus mobilised myself to catch and now crush them.” Rausgeber paused, “You are to continue engaging as you see fit of course. But I want the Confederate Commander, one Kiff Brayde.” The imperial glowered, “Alive. Whatever measures necessary are to be taken. But I want that man in my custody. As for the rest,” He chortled slightly, “I’ll leave that up to your discretion. Report on where you wish for my fleet support to be provided.” He bowed his head and the comms unit flickered off. “Prep me a public line to Brayde.” He barked to the technicians, “And,” He heel turned pointing to Commodore Gowe, “Have the Interceptor spool gravity wells. Nothing will escape us.”

The Grand Admiral returned to his table, now given the reassurance that the message would be broadcast by his technical crew. “High Marshal Brayde.” The imperial snarled. His visage was now younger, more spry than what Brayde had encountered previously, “Last we met in battle you abused my honour and robbed me of dignity while flying the flag of truce. I trust you understand the gravity of your treachery.” Rausgeber added with a wry smirk, “For I intend to provide a punishment equal to your cowardice. And your discretion will be what decides it. Should you aquiesce, your fleet can leave, barring you. And you will be tried in accordance to military norms." Carlyle informed him, "Decline my generous offer? I will make you watch as my men perform live autopsies and experiment on your subordinates. Let you watch as they writhe, being cut and cauterised by the blade. Find out how much pain one of your officers can take. How many organs they really need.” Carlyle smirked.

“Should you deny my offer, I do assure you, I will make their torment eternal.”

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

NIV Tregessar
Prefsbelt-Class Super Star Destroyer (x)

NIV Prefsbelt
Reprisal-Class Star Destroyer (x)

NIV Malice
Reprisal-Class Star Destroyer

NIV Gorgon
Reprisal-Class Star Destroyer

NIV Avenger
Harrower-Class Dreadnought (x)

NIV Interceptor
Tartarus-Class Interdictor (X)

NIV Crusade
Pellaeon-Class Star Destroyer (x)


NIV Brutus
Pellaeon-Class Star Destroyer


NIV Terror
Pellaeon-Class Star Destroyer

NIV Absolutist
Pellaeon-Class Star Destroyer

NIV Mygeeto Pride
New Imperial-I Class Star Destroyer (x)

NIV Deaths Head
New Imperial-I Class Star Destroyer

NIV Prefsbelt Glory
New Imperial-I Class Star Destroyer

NIV Absolutist
New Imperial-I Class Star Destroyer

NIV Cavalier
Cuirassier-Class Cruiser (x)

NIV Charger
Cuirassier-Class Cruiser

NIV Brutality
Cuirassier-Class Cruiser

NIV Inquisitor
Cuirassier-Class Cruiser

3x Stalwalt-Class Carriers (x)

NIV Bombardier
Tirallieur-Class Frigate (x)

NIV Rainmaker
Tirallieur-Class Frigate

NIV Blitz
Tirallieur-Class Frigate

NIV Cassius
Tirallieur-Class Frigate

NIV Ad Victorium
Tirallieur-Class Frigate

3x Dragoon-Class Frigates (x)

7x Escolta-Class Frigates (x)

15x Gurkha-Class Frigates (x)

9x Cacadore-Class Corvettes (x)

Fighter comp to come. As I am a lazy fellow

 

[Careena Fett]

[ Sea of Fire ]​

C a r e e n a _ F e t t

| Location | Laboratory Spire, Heioaboer​

| Focus | Ves Fett / Trajan Fett / Vyca Durren / Darth Tigran​

​

Careena dipped down, dropping to one knee as her Basilisk swept the trooper it caught in its hand away and sliced their poor body in half as she raised her blasters up, firing off quick, concise bursts of fire that thinned out the group of Sith Troopers emerging from the tower, cutting their numbers down as the rest attempted to flee back into the safety of the tower, realizing the combination of being out in the open and the Mandalorian Basilisks were tearing up their numbers. Careena would wave her comrades forward as they began to join the fight in force, ushering them forward as she moved alongside Trajan.​

​

Careena had been asked to extract vital intel stored within the laboratory, Trajan moving off to establish charges around the key supports that kept the spire raised up high like an ominous overseer on the surrounding area. Careena motioned with her head and blasters for her clan to follow after her, dividing up the present members into smaller squads. The more ground they could cover, the more they could recover and extract while also making it difficult for the Sith forces present to keep track of them all. They were all trained well enough to handle firefights and with several smaller squads moving about, they would be able to reinforce and flank.​

​

Careena trailed several of her clan behind her as she made her way through the tower, a projection of the interior being projected over Careena's forearm that had been fed to them via the sabotage team that had infiltrated weeks prior. Careena paused as the thudding of boots was heard coming around the corner, the Alor raising her hand up and counting down with her fingers, and reaching down to her belt with the other as she grabbed a flashbang and primed it. Just as she counted down to zero with her fingers, she tossed the device around the corner, the bright flash and loud explosion going off as the rest of her companions rounded the corner to open fire.​

 

[Tulan Kor]

Allies: New Imperial Order l Gladius Company l Tiberius l Onansi of Thyrsus l Willan Tal l DECEASED Erskine Barran l Ravraa Vyshraal l Noel Strasza l


Enemies: TSE l CIS l Joesph Leigh l UX-0626


Location: Hjallaheim, Helgard - The Fortress

YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW



"Hubris is funny. Hubris is dangerous. Don't be funny."


​

Tulan and Gladius' company charge paid off. The battlements were reached. The losses were heavy, but the ground gained would lay the stones for the road to victory. While the defenders were well-positioned and well-established, the simple overwhelming amount of hatred the Imperials had thrust upon them broke their defense, and ultimately, their will to fight- at least that position. The battle, the war, was far from over.

After taking the fortress through sheer violence and the arrival of the mercenary unit, the swift action and boldness of their attack paid off. But they were presented with a different problem, an entire city below them. The Imperator wanted a job complete, a task-saturated force already burdened by heavy losses.

Tulan lit a cigar, turning to face the Mercenary and the Stormtrooper Commander, weary but victorious.

"If they want to have the hubris to build a fortress above their city to protect it."

He took a long drag, letting the smoke mix with the frost-lined breath that he produced, given that he wasn't wearing a helmet.

"I suggest we take those tanks of yours-" He gestured to the accompanied Mercenary Commander. "And drop this Fortress right on the capital, with the mountain, and all it's rocks, snow, and whatever else on top of it. We bury their Capital, and their will to fight. The Imperator wanted us to remove the threat, right?" He smiled a malicious, wolfish grin.

"And the Imperator's Will Be Done."

The Devil himself circled his Demons, setting them to task, while they picked up security positions for the gathered to formulate a more concrete plan.

"Let's go Stormtrooper, we have a city to bury."

Tulan produced another cigar, tucking it in the webbing of the Stormtrooper's armor. Tiberius earned it.

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION
TASK FORCE 'BLIZZARD'
Armor | Rifle | Pistol | Void | Melee | Grenades

Группа крови
​

A bruising advance. No different than what the Imperator had found himself heading up from the infancy of his career, a trooper beneath the crimson sun of the One Sith, to the Sith Imperial Legions and now, the Punished. The 501st made revenant, fighting for true empire for the first time in generations, since Roan Fel ruled the Galactic realm.

They plunged through the jagged maw which they'd pried open by their own will of explosive firepower into the fortress. Within, the gauntlet awaited for the 501st. He could only assume now the focus had to be split, between Gladius and the forces relieving them and now, the Imperator's own on their death march through the crown of Helgard. In the wake of the crushing defeat on Dantooine, enacting vengeance in this hive of the Sith and their dogs.

<"Sir- 1st has crossed the breach, Gladius has been relieved. We're ready to push further- what's our priority?"> Vizek, the Umbaran inquired the way or Irveric. Ever critical of his from-the-front style of leading. There was a tangible difference to the 501st operating with and without his leadership. While the veteran officer staff managed the unit more than proficiently, it was the Imperator himself that bestowed that second wind of fanaticism. That indomitable will to do what need be done. To kill the enemy.

<"The Palace, I want it gone. I want any semblance of pride held in this place ripped away. The Sith all will know the New Imperial retribution. Nothing left but cinder. Forward."> He said, concluding with a word of command as he led the host of 501st deeper into Hjallaheim. A military target, a fortress. The asset couldn't be left to be reclaimed by the Sith Empire.

Kascalion Giedfield had to know that he had not forgotten. That anywhere he roamed, the Imperator's might be in his shadow. Until his final breath, the New Order would hunt down and slay him and any other Sith that had the audacity to continue their crooked reign.

<"Understood, Demon Company and Gladius have formed up on the battlements, their charge paid off but we're taking losses. Regardless, I suggest we pull the 12th and the 46th into Hjallaheim, press the assault. Take the crown, end it."> The Umbaran suggested in confidence, able to compound the trust with his superior to be able to speak in line of suggestion.

<"Noted. We keep moving."> The 501st continued their march, their horrible symphony of destruction as they faced the most elite of the Helgardi. Irveric had his sights set on the Palace, the seat of power in Helgard. To seize and destroy that would open the path for the Sith hold of this world to falter.

Cardinal Prime had met an inglorious end not fitting of his stature in streets beneath. His host would be due the same fate. In the shadow of the Palace, the 501st marched in defiance.

ALLIES | NIO | SOM | Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Tiberius | Kosca Gaelt | Ravraa Vyshraal | Ragnar the Untested | Black Sgáire | Onansi of Thyrsus
ENEMIES | TSE | CIS | Joesph Leigh | UX-0626 | Syd Celsius | OPEN FOR ENGAGEMENT

​

 

[Willan Tal]

​

Brigadier General- Willan Tal
1st Galidraani volunteers armoured infantry brigade
1st Battalion of the Brigade' Fighting first.'
New Imperial Order
Location: Hjallaheim city
OBJ2
Ally tags: Vostok Grauv Zakaria Black Ragnar the Untested Djorn Bline Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Republic Engineering FN-999 Enedina Tal Kolson Vrask Tyrell Paxxus Ravraa Vyshraal Noel Strasza Creuat Uriel Tokarev Arminius Tiberius Careena Fett Ves Fett Rika Hiro Tulan Kor

Enemy Tags: TBA

​

"And old Tavlar will have his wish, it's a whole pig sty this city full of barbarians and halfwits, halfwits who can fight I might add, but the point stands," He remarked half humorously yet serious all the same, scanning the points as mentioned earlier of interest for him and his boys. It would take a few hours, maybe a day or two but the city and by extension, this wretched planet would be theirs. Though he reckoned good as any that the Helgardi would not concede this city until all either fell in the way of the Imperial army or held up in their tunnels until the flamers arrived and roasted them. It didn't matter.


The gung ho special forces lad joined the pair by the name of Tulan, Tal wouldn't forget that scarred mangled grin of a face any time soon. The special forces lot were all the same to him, crazy, borderline psychopathic lot who lived for war and treated the hunting of another being as a sacred art. He had respect for their ways, and they were essential to the war effort in ways his boys might've lacked at but regardless where his men were the Imperators hammer, Tulans brand of warrior was the Imperators scalpel.


"Suppose so; it can be done with a bit of firepower and patience, my boys will vacate the fort and get into position, comm us when in position Tulan," Tal exclaimed, nose upturned at the smell of the manky cigar the special forces man pulled out. But he kept a straight face, in the name of etiquette and manners. He offered the pair a nod of acknowledgement and a salute before leaving for his tank, signalling the rest of his men and the column to depart. ​

​

​

 

[Darth Strosius]

Location: Sauofellslond
Objective: Defend the City / Reclaim the City
Equipment: Lightsaber
Tags: Ragnar the Untested
Allies: TSE / CIS Forces
Enemies: NIO / Helgardi Populace
----------------------------------------------------

This Imperial Knight would be the third Force User that Alisteri had dueled, the third one that he had crossed blades with and survived to tell the tale. Well, hopefully he would survive this one anyway. One could never be sure. He supposed that he was a real Acolyte now though, so that was an achievement. Better to have that than to be known as one of those Sith Acolytes that died in combat on some planet.

He didn't intend to end up like that at least.

Unfortunately, it seemed that the Zabrak wasn't the bird with clipped wings that he thought that he would be. At first glance, he assumed that the NIO would only keep their Force Users on short leashes. Like pets, or more accurately slaves. Something to use and discard without investing much time and resources into them. Evidently he was wrong, his opponent was certainly no pushover.

His eye widened slightly at the reaction speed of his enemy, seeming to not even break stride or hesitate as Alisteri shifted out of the way to try and catch the other off-guard.

Ah, he's quick. Of course he's quick.

Although he was surprised by the block, he wasn't all that sluggish. With a quick press he had deactivated his sabre and stepped back to avoid the attempt to push his blade aside, swiftly reactivating it the moment he was clear.

A curse left him as he ducked his head, pulling back to narrowly avoid the silver blade nearly slicing through his throat. His lightsaber then moved to narrowly deflect the other blade that was intended to carve through his knee, leaping back again to gain some distance. "Order. What would you know of that?" He let out a small laugh, as if he thought that it was funny.

Then he pounced at the Zabrak, plunging forward with his sabre like he was using a spear.

 

[Moff Drybis Lyken]

Location: HMIS "The Wrath" (Marr-class Star Destroyer)
Objective: Defeat NIO forces and reestablish control of Helgard's orbit
Allies: TSE | CIS | EE | Tristan Evore Kiff Brayde Seela Leini Alamara Tesco
Enemies: NIO Enlil Caarlyle Rausgeber Kestus Bralor

Spoiler

Flagship:

-HMIS "The Wrath" (Marr-class Star Destroyer)

Other Forces:

• • "The King's Staff" (Baras-class Star Destroyer)
  • "The Dark Devil (Baras-class Star Destroyer)
  • "The Rakghoul" (Baras-class Star Destroyer)
  • "The Lancer" (Harrower-class Cruiser)
  • "The Ord Radama" (Harrower-class Cruiser)
  • "The Carrion" (Harrower-class Cruiser)

-5x Tammar-class Corvettes
-3x Thanaton-class Corvette
- 10x Ajunta-class Starfortress
-Helix Squadron, 8x Caedus-class Superiority Fighter
-Obsidian Squadron, 6x Caldoth-class Bomber
-Ember Squadron, 6x Caedus-class Superiority Fighter, 2x Sith-Imperial TIE Interceptor
-Shadow Squadron (Moff Lyken's personal fighter squadron), 5x Rogue-class Starfighter
-5x Starfighter Squadrons, 4 Squadrons of (6x)Caedus-class Superiority Fighter, 1 Squadron of (12x)Sith-Imperial TIE Interceptor

Helgard Orbital Defenses (Temporarily under Lyken's command)

-Several Derriphan-class Battleships (At most 10)(At least 5 destroyed)
-30x Sith starfighters
-Multiple Sith Gunships

"Grand Admiral?". Lyken spoke into the comm after waiting a few seconds since he got no response from the other end of the transmission.

"Sir, we just lost comms and we must have lost it just as you spoke into the comm".

"Odd, Very Odd, Burik get on it"

The Moff didn't even need to say what to do exactly, the Ensign knew, especially judging by his reply, "Yes sir, I'll get it back".

"Alright until we get comms back, what is our situation Colonel".

"Well sir, CIS support has arrived under High Marshal Kiff Brayde ". "He....his comms officer sent a message before we lost communications, that his forces are here to assist us drive the NIO out and is currently providing fire support for his forces that he is sending to Helgard below". "Squadrons Breaker, Dancer, Obsidian, Helix, and Ember have launched". "The older Sith Starfighters that were attached with the Derriphans earlier are nearing the enemy position. "The NIV Resplendence has destroyed 5 of the Derriphans, the remaining vessels either continue to advance with ramming speed or have broken off to try to penetrate the enemy ship with their cannons"

"Well they won't do anything in terms of damage, but still my strategy continues as planned".

"What if they break off and try to flee sir?".

"Whether they flee or ram into the Imperial ship, it is of no concern, they are insignificant".

Looking at the Resplendence from afar, he could see it clearly holding its position.

"Interesting, a smart little king this must be". "Not advancing after immediate success shows some experience". "Cautious, but unluckily for him Caution usually breeds Disaster".

"When we get comms back, Send a message back to the Storm King that we acknowledge him and his forces as friendlies and he may call the holo if there is anything he needs, within reason".

"Are you sure, sir".

"Colonel, with the Bryn closing in and the GA and NIO pushing into our territory". "We need all of the help we can get in the fights to be had now and in the battles to come".

"Very good sir, ill get it send once we get comms back".

An Ensign raced forward. "I got it sir!". "Comms are back!". Said the Ensign with a proud and exuberant tone.

"Alright ill get it send now". The Colonel turned his head to a nearby console below and looked at the computer scope, focusing on the space near the enemy capital ship. He now saw a whole pack of ships quickly emerge from hyperspace

"Sir, ships emerging from behind the Resplendence". "The ships appear to be....ummmm, Mandalorian".

"The Sons of Mandalore, it's probably them".

After a few moments, the Colonel walked back from a console along the side of the bridge.

"Yes, I've confirmed, it is". "They have a dreadnought Moff Lyken".

"Intriguing they would divert that ship from more important operations". "Captain, it seems they are forming a trident formation, like the insurgents above Rhen Var".

"Yes sir, they are". "It seems he will wait, then spring upon us, using that formation".

"Hmmm, he's trying to get us to commit to the center for now, tempting". "And if we try to flank them in return, they might break through our center". The Moff now placed his hand on his goatee beard that rested upon his chin. He quickly pondered what course of action to take. He knew that the Kraken and its escort would be helpful once they restored comms, but without the full support of the CIS dreadnought Storm King commanded by Kiff Brayde , he wasn't confident he could completely destroy their forces along with the dreadnought. He could use a spread formation and slowly advance using his fighters and bombers to possibly create a hole in their line. However, they more likely had the larger amount of fighter squadrons than him and his forces. Perhaps he would improvise as the battle went along, after all, that had worked many times before, especially at Vjun.

"What are your orders Moff Lyken?".

"Hmm, let me think for a second, at least this isn't like Kothlis again".

"Yes sir, I would hope not, Kothlis was a....strange situation".

"That it was Colonel, that it was".

"Alright, Colonel call all fighter squadrons to pull back to our fleet's current positions". "The Derriphans have given us time to form the Valence Alpha". "Lets switch it up Colonel, order The King's Staff to lead the formation, and have the ships that were to attack the Resplendence pull back to formation as well". "Order the Lancer to position directly behind the The King's Staff". "Captain Threcki, command the Ajunta Starfortresses to form a double layered bend to the fleet's right side, it will secure one access to the surface". "Ensign Akura, get a line through to Breaker & Dancer Squadrons, tell them to make their way to our left flank and engage any enemy fighters they encounter". "As well command Obsidian to remain in front of the Ajuntas and to wait for further orders". "Helix and Ember will stay with the fleet, and destroy Imperials who dare to encroach on our force". He looked at the deck officers and the bridge staff awaiting his final say-so.

"Alright, get to it, double time".

Lots of "Yes sir!" and "Aye" came up from many on the bridge, as they soon rushed to complete their orders.

"What about Evore?"

"He will deal with enemy ships as sees fit, but we should still try to reestablish contact, ty to patch me through again".

"Yes sir, just to inform that because we were jammed, he could still be jammed so he might not receive our transmission clearly".

"Well we should still try, get on it Colonel".

"Yes sir".

"Sir, Breaker and Dancer are already joined and have engaged enemy fighters in sector 10"

"Ah, very good, still transmit their new orders once they have dealt with the enemy in that sector"

The Moff now walked back to the middle of the bridge's viewport and looked upon on his forces ready to bring hell to the New Imperial Invaders. In that singular moment, despite the growing danger of the battle, he felt surprisingly confident and sure that he, his forces, along with his allies would bring death and defeat to the enemy.

"Moff Lyken", one of the insignificant deck cadets shouted as he sprinted towards the Moff, trying to slow himself down as he neared Drybis.

"Yes, what is it lad?".

"Sir, another fleet has arrived"

"Ugghhh, who is it now!".

The Moff was frustrated, it seemed at times like the galaxy was against him and his beloved Empire. More to defeat and more to shame however, something which Drybis always loved to endow on his foes. He still could not help to wonder of how different his experience would have been if he had chosen to defect.

No!

He shut down the thought immediately just as soon as it surfaced in his mind. There was no room was second guessing, not for him.

"Sir, its the New Imperial fleet commanded by Grand Admiral Caarlyle Rausgeber ".

"Rausgeber?" It was not a name he was familiar with. "Pull up his career record and profile Ensign".

"Aye sir, right away". The Ensign pulled it up on holo screen to his left.

"Hmmm, interesting background, genetically enhanced and with his stout loyalty to the Imperator". "Prefsbelt Command, even more interesting".

He scanned the rest quite quickly, absorbing most of the information, "Alright, is this ' Grand Admiral ' moving his forces towards us".

"No sir, he is currently charging and has opened fire on the Storm King". "And its seems somewhere in his large fleet, an Interdictor has activated gravity wells".

"Thank you Ensign, this Rausgeber is nothing more than a hotheaded loyal crony with supreme loyalty to Irveric Tavlar ". "Unfortunately for us, he has a SSD and a large fleet". "Prep Ember squad to locate and disable the Interdictor, once we have fully engaged with these interlopers in front of us". "They are still the primary target, with this Prefsbelt boy charging like a impudent child at Brayde".

"Hopefully Brayde can drive him off, keep a line open to the Storm King just in case he needs some additional assistance Akura".

"Aye sir".

The Moff wiped some sweat off his forehead and resumed his stately gaze to outside the viewport, into space. The real fight for orbital supremacy of Helgard was about to begin.


Theme: The Moff enters the fray

Setup of Moff Lyken's Fleet

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

Tags: Rika Hiro
Gear: Alpine armor/In signature
As always, hits called with permission.​

"It doesn't matter what we are; what matters is our purpose."

"...doesn't matter what we are..."

"...what we are..."

We. It was enough to spur a chill to crawl down her artificial spine. As Cara kept her eyes locked with the unblinking machine she listened to its taunts, lip curling in a sneer as she was reminded of her own mortality. It was dialogue unexpected from an android, and Cara cursed as it spoke with its cold antagonism. It was one thing to fight mass-produced war machines and another to outwit strategic AI, but both married into one frame as a single unit? Cara felt the anxiety creep into her thoughts, her mind fixated on how easily she could have been outmaneuvered if the droid decided to end things swiftly. Instead the machine tilted its head nonchalantly, goading the engineer to fire point-blank.

It didn't have to tell her twice.

The twin barrels exploded with a thunderclap. Brass cartridges whistled as they flew from the rifle then jangled as they met the street below. Opposite to their delicate sound was the hard crunch of the android's chest, the slugs slamming into the machine's frame and throwing it across the road onto its back. Thin tendrils of smoke curled into the air while small sparks lit from the new cavity. Cara's arm remained trained on the body even as the din of combat continued to intensify. There were no more New Imperials. No more worthless Helgardi. It was one slow step after another as she tread nearer, mild relief pooling in her mind as she sensed the droid's systems cascade into nonexistence.

"Here I was expecting more of a challenge." She tried to regain the confidence she'd let slip before. "At least I'm able to know what disappointment feels like, hm?"

That disappointment felt like a kick in the stomach. To Cara's shock the once "failing" systems shot to a higher function than before, the android not even turning its head as the leg kicked outward to send her reeling. With one hand clasped around the fracture in her armor's gut she searched the ground with the other, pushing herself onto an elbow. The android, with seemingly no effort, hopped back onto its feet. A mocking smile creased its perfect face. Without thought Cara threw out her arm again and the rifle boomed. This time Cara's target lurched to the side, the distance between them giving the machine time to dodge. It cooed a few words barely audible, the city rudely hosting a war which made hearing difficult. But it had offered a challenge Cara could not let pass, baiting her only to then flee deeper into the city. While the engineer pursued she didn't fool herself with an imaginary upper hand. Helgard was home to hunters, and Cara was certain this time she was the prey.

​

 

[Lunafreya Solidor]

T A G S | Ryv .
T H E M E | Here.
V O I C E | Here.
G E A R | Armor
Lightsaber | Ring​

A menacing snarl came out of her lips, but the dead seemed not to even care. That made it all worse, forcing her to raise her leg midway of her waist, using her harpy-like clawed feet to kick one of the corpses in front of her, pushing that sack of rotten meat much like she thought it would, with enough strength so that it would fall against the others in front of him, forming a much smaller version of a hill made entirely of corpses, moaning and drooling over one another, ridiculously trying to get back on their feet. Quite the sad sight for anyone that dared looking at them, and instead of waiting for them to stand upright once again, Lunafreya raised her feet and walked on top of their soft rotten bodies, barely breaking their balance as she reached the end of her ‘hill’. At her side, Diabolico cleaned his throat loudly, spitting green mucus towards one of them, yapping soon after.
“Astrals be damned. I hate this. They smell like a Nar Shaddian’s brothel.”, listening to his words, she felt compelled on asking how could he know that, but her mind warned her that some doors were best left untouched, and she simply snarled back at him.
“Be quiet.”, and in silence, they decided to walk alongside the horde of the dead.

The walls trembled, not enough to cause any alarm, but enough to catch her attention, making her gently raise her head in the air, closing her eyes in an attempt of listening to what was ahead. She could hear something not so far as she liked to admit, and it took her a moment or so to identify what the noise was; squabbling, and the sultry grunts of a humanoid alien, it was definitely a male, she knew how they screamed when they were being cut and burned alive, she knew it all too well not to identify his kind. At her side, Diabolio’s muzzle relentlessly moved up and down, catching its scent.
“It’sss human, and...”, before he even finished his sentence, she already knew what he would say. “Jedi.”, the word made his lips twitch, showing his deadly sharp teeth, in an ominous smirk. To that, Lunafreya raised her hand from the secrecy beneath her cloak, using the sharp talons to scratch a piece of her head and fix her hair back where it belonged, before Norfairë slide itself through her neck, taking its shape as a helmet. A jaded gesture came from the female to her minion, ordering him to make way for her to pass, at last, there was something to do in this filthy place.

Out of the dead silence from the Horde in front of him, a strange new sound started to make itself heard. Flutes and trumpets, along with the blunt strikes of cutting as their lines, formed of forty dead per time, was being cut from the back, not all of them but ten at a time, right in the middle. And the music, if you call it that, grew louder as they approached, announcing the impending coming of a king, or in this case, a princess.
“HOOOOOOOOOLD!”, Diabolico roared with all the might of his lungs to all of them, forcing all the noise and movement to grow silent and still. As she approached, Belias and Geniana kept playing their instruments behind her, until she gently leaned her head in their direction, evoking them to also be silent, before turning her head towards the humanoid creature in front of her, allowing him a courteous short smile from her deceiving lips as she declared out loud with her honeyed seductive voice, a voice all too well know of being bathed in power.

"Let us take this time for a moment of contemplation.”, she said, “To ponder on your pitful lives and decide if this is going to be indeed the time of your demise, which now that I am here, will most definitely happen. However... I am feeling merciful this day above all others, and therefore I shall provide thine ridiculous mob with a proper option; disband and leave, run back at your sheds in the mud, hug your ugly wives, hide your stupid children and fight on to achieve some decency in your lives, or... surrender now, be devoured or enslaved, I couldn’t care less which would preferable for your monkey brains to find themselves satisfied. As for you, Jedi...”, the word came out of her lips resembling much as the snap of a whip. “You can run along back at your tasteless temples, or you can choose the most stupid option available and face me in this poor excuse of a field, and die.”

Her left foot slid on the damp floor in front of her body. In an elegant, lascivious, flamboyant presentation stance best fit to a noble, Lunafreya’s right hand came from inside her cloak, entwining to the other side as she bowed at him, presenting herself in both an honest, but mocking tone.
“IIIIIIIIII... Am Lunafreya von Solidor, former Imperial Warlord, defected.”, the word dragged itself transpiring pure horror when spoken by her lips when she said it out loud, leaning her head gently, as she went on standing upright again. “Grand Moff of the Sith Empire under the glory of her Radiance, Empress Jocelyn, and I am here to splash myself on your blood.”, while both her lightsabers were telekinetically dragged at them from the insides of her cloak, and as she fixed her stance, tossing her cloak behind her shoulders, the female allowed them a splendid glimpse of her white teeth in a half, arrogant grin. Igniting both golden, elegant blades shortly after. "And by the ancient laws of combat, I challenge thine poorly-shaped figure to a true helgardian spat." That meant one thing, and one thing alone, no one from both sides would get in the way and were bound to watch as they fought under the silent dead creeks of that dark, dark crypt. "Unless you are too afraid of getting beat up by a woman."

 

[Ragnar the Blooded]

HELGARD
SAUOAFELLSLOND
257TH LEGION
Allies: The New Imperial Order
Engaging: Darth Strosius

Attaching oneself to a stormtrooper legion was easier than moving in the midst of other Imperial Knights. The New Imperial Order was a meritocracy, it was why aliens like him possessed positions like he did. But the culture of judgement, of disregard and xenophobia for aliens still remained in many of the humans. Stormtroopers simply followed orders, but with other Imperial Knights? As a Knight Errant, there was no special privilege he held over them, for they all shared the same gift at varying levels.

The Force.

Nostrils flaring, he hadn't been expecting the deactivated saber. In the back of his mind, a memory surfaced of the fighting form that implemented activation and deactivation of ones saber. Its name escaped him, in the midst of combat the named technique an opponent used didn't seem as important as winning the fight. Snarling in turn, he stepped after the Sith retreated back. Every step of ground that the Sith would forfeit, Ragnar would take. The spinning and flash of clashing blades was an alluring sight.

The Sith ducked his next swing, and Ragnar's annoyance rolled off of him, but a mirthless smile raised to his lips.

Defensive. Unfitting for a Sith, Ragnar thought.

Again, after the duck the Sith retreated backwards, and Ragnar's saber quickly moved in to fill in the space that he had once been in, never allowing the Sith to get that moment to properly reorient himself. Before he could find the Sith's form, he leapt back again, and Ragnar's saber was effectively warded off.

"Order. What would you know of that?"

Before an answer could even be given, the Sith thought to attack.

This time Ragnar stepped in to him as soon as the Sith's feet left the ground. Abrupt and aggressive. The Sith would find that the spot he'd land in was closer to the Knight Errant than he was likely planning. The Sith's saber drove in towards his body. The front of his saberstaff, the left, leapt from the right side of his body and up to the left. Force-enhanced, he sought to deflect the blade, what with the Sith's pounce, Ragnar counted on him being unbalanced. And whether he struck or not, when his saberstaff came from right to left, it immediately cut back to the right. Tracing the outline of a crescent moon, before slashing across his midsection.

"Discipline," Ragnar answered a moment later.

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

Lord-Major Erskine Barran
1st Galidraani-Volunteers Armoured-Infantry Brigade,"Tal's Devils"
2nd Battalion,"Blue-Hearts"
New Imperial Order

LOCATION: Saoafellslond, inner-city

OBJECTIVE 2: Siege of Hjallaheim/Saoafellslond

ALLIES: Willan Tal Black Sgáire Ragnar the Untested Kosca Gaelt Savoh Muska Dorian Sicarrio Tiberius Noel Strasza Rika Hiro

After taking time to warm himself by the fire in the turret-nest's repurposed oil-drum, Lord Erskine let the snow and his frozen hair thaw for a while as the lads from Galidraan 4 asked him questions aplenty about his years as a mercenary captain, with their corporal even showing interest in Barran's pre-exile years. However, one question stood out from the others, and it was none other than the keen-eyed sapper who put it forth, almost muttering,'Milord, is it true you successfully used your hipflask as a decoy-frag?', as he put his warmed hands back inside the pockets of his combat-issue winter coat. The sapper's aptitude for warfare was unseen in him at that moment, but something obviously separated the lad from the pack enough to attain his post among the Carrack Rangers, so the Lord-Major shook it off and thought nothing else of it.

'Was a pure gamble, laddie. Nout mare, nout less. Such gambits are necessary when the comfort of the ACV are several miles behind ye.'

The lads eyes widened, but not with fearfulness, and though he was still shy on the surface, a wide, white-toothed grin showed on the face of the young sapper. The Lord-Major had taken this for supreme-approval, but didn't know what such a confirmation meant to a lad who considered Barran to be one of his life's heroes, and nothing else was said on that matter. 'They'll think the Blue-Hearts mad to the last crewman, Milord', the sapper said in complementary jest, finally letting some of that hidden character shine through for all to see.

'Aye, an' word ti the wise, that's 'cause every last wan o' the Blue-Hearts is mad in some form or other. Complement taken, but remember that's down ti the fact that same bardic-madness resides in your people as well, and that same madness permeated into the blood of the Woad-Macushla's clans. We're just as daft as each other, sapper. Don't be shy to let that madness help from time to time, just remember our peoples traditions of asserting our mastery over it.... And remember this, I have seen, with my own eyes, that General Tal asserts an incredible mastery over his own. You'll see it in action soon enough, laddie. Keep an eye oot for it, as you'll see something in tenfold-comparison to the deeds you've heard tell o' me.'

<"Oeg a Oirthir Turret-Nead! Tá sé réidh!">*

Leading him along a continually-fortifying line of engineers' dugouts, the sapper was talking away with Major Barran, with occasional intervals of greetings to those they passed along the way, showing a side to himself that had not been shown before. This lad was actually popular with his fellow engineers, seemingly of great value to the others as a vital cog in the wheel; Barran knew the type, and had seen such universal admiration for both his own captain and his deceased quartermaster, somewhat surprised by the fact he was gladdened that all the engineers had taken the young sapper under their wing. Another surprise Erskine found was the look of recognition they all had when they locked onto his own eyes, with each engineer with room enough to talk offering greetings and praise for the Lord-Major specifically.
Woe to anyone who faces this Company as a fresh-legged Battalion, for even their current numbers are verging on incredible as they are.

'Is there anything this lot doesn't know about my battalion?'

'Not so long as I'm here, Milord. And besides,"Saor gu Woad-Macushla", means more to these fellows than you know.', the sapper responded, stopping to extend his hand in respect. Seeing the Lord-Major extending his own to meet his gesture in the middle, the lad concluded,'Soon-to-be Lance-Corporal Marne, a pleasure and an honour to finally meet the man responsible for his own legend.', as they embraced in a formal, introductory handshake. Continually going up in Barran's estimation, it looked more and more like there was more to Marne with every passing minute, and that the merit heaped on him was beginning to reap rewards like it had been for Leftenant Jorie; one such individual Barran suspected was also one that the young NCO in-the-making looked up to.

'I believe the pleasure would be mine on this occasion, Marne. Now tell me, are there others among the Blue-Hearts whose deeds have gained your admiration?'

Understanding the question's subtly-specific nature, Marne looked Lord Erskine in the eye and muttered,'I'm sorry for your loss, Milord. On both counts.', with heartfelt sincerity. After this, with their handshake let go, the young sapper would walk ahead some paces before turning back to add,'It was Jorie's death that hit me the hardest, and I'm one of those who Oeg was referring to on the comms.'

From there, as the turret-nests continued to lay heavy fire on the Helgardi forlorn-hope below, the Lord-Major would let the sapper lead on in silence as they neared Black Sgáire's dugout. The whole time, both would look down on the chaos below as the tanks continued to bait the Helgardi to their own slaughter, a clear and perfect execution of orders that both understood would win the engagement with ease; especially when the last-remaining attackers got within range of the Carrack Rangers' flamethrowers, a method of which Barran had already seen plenty in proficient action. Turning his gaze uphill, Lord Erskine felt a sudden curiosity for the efforts of those taking the battlements at the summit, knowing they wouldn't take very long in doing so.
If yeez are avalanchin' aw the surroundin' area, we had better be notified with plenty time t'spare....

*"Oeg a Oirthir Turret-Nead! Tá sé réidh!" - transl. - "Oeg to Eastern Turret-Nest! He's ready!"
​

​

 

[Rika Hiro]

L A D Y S I L E N C E
C O M P N O R
H E L G A R D
Tag list: Noel Strasza Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran Black Sgáire Ragnar the Untested Vostok Grauv Tiberius Dorian Sicarrio Ingrid L'lerim-Vandiir
Opponent: Cara Dorniarn

​

All that filled the immediate silence between Asa playing dead and kicking the Bakuran over was the burning of loose wire and sizzling of burnt synthetic flesh and blood. Ahead distant fighter ships duelled in the skies above, but that was part of a bigger picture. All that mattered at the moment was the two of them; two opposites yet equals stood amidst the grey scenery of a rapidly crumbling empire. She moved aside from the Bakurans scattered frantic shots, shooting the frazzled Bakuran a smile that might've passed for bemusement or mockery.



"You're going to have to do more than that."


The woman's initial shots had torn right through the HRDs stomach and chest, blowing open two holes that exposed a mesh and network of wiring and metal components. She departed quickly while the woman regained her senses and pursued her further into the urban jungle. The burning feeling in her stomach wouldn't go away, but she attributed it to partial damage to her processing core. The woman's shots had mostly been absorbed by the synthetic skin and durasteel beneath, but she had still taken significant damage to her wiring and mainframe. However, Asa was still operational, and her ploy had seemingly worked, only serving to bait the Bakuran further into the HRDs trap.


OPERATION CAPABILITIES AT 65%. . . . . HRD MODEL 234# must relocate to COMPNOR tech depot soon or face field termination . . . .

The virgin snow stained red with synth blood became a bread crumb trail for the cybernetic Bakuran to follow, Asa clutched at her chest and grabbed the end of an alley corner for support, coughing up blood into the pearly white snow below before she wiped it away with the sleeve of her field jacket. She looked back behind her, the Bakuran not quite yet in her sights nor aware of where she was save for the scant clues in the snow Asa left.


"This whole thing of yours is foolish, both you and I know you stand amidst the foundations of a dying Empire, why lose your life for a weak despot who cares not for a crippled... little thing like you," she chuckled mockingly, choosing her words and tone carefully to get inside her head even more. Looking around for options available to her, a dead Helgardi with black hair lay face first in the snow nearby, two large blaster holes in her back. Likely killed either by a Sith trooper or one of the Orders troopers. Wasting no time, she moved over and took off her jacket, placing it on the woman before disappearing into the shadows once more.


PRIORITY ONE. . . . .
INSURE RETURN OF TARGET DNA SAMPLE. . . .
FOR ANAYLSIS AND AGENCY USE. . . .
ALL OTHER FACTORS SECONDARY. . . .
TARGET EXPENDABLE. . . .