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On April 15th the Brotherhood of the Maw will launch an ANNIHILATION on the Galactic Alliance held planet of Tython. The Fight for Tython is the ultimate battle for the fate of the galaxy. Fought by the forces of the Galactic Alliance, the Ashlan Crusade, the Mandalorian Enclave, the Eternal Empire, and the independently aligned New Imperial Order against the full might of the Brotherhood of the Maw. The Road to Tython ends here, the Second Great Hyperspace War continues..
As the battle progresses, GA and MAW staff will update the map with weather conditions and troop fronts based on all your warposting data. If at all possible, please utilize the spoiler tag for summaries of actions to help keep up with your events.
Due to the number of opposing Force Sensitives on Tython, Force Storms WILL OCCUR violently. Watch out as the landscape changes due to player actions or non-player events, as the ritual progresses reality will begin to tear in various areas around the map. Broken areas of reality will be visualized as shattered glass on the map and within these areas feel free to get creative with what happens. Expect “Doctor Strange Mirrorverse or Inception based changes in these areas”.
Have fun! Enjoy the Annihilation!
"Well, when we pray, our gods answer... so your fates shall be sculpted instead."
- The Mongrel
The Battle of Tython takes place in the region around the ancient temple of Kaleth, shortly after the Brotherhood of the Maw bypassed the orbital blockade, grounding a Crucifix II Destroyer to the north. The Tython Accords, united under the banner of the New Jedi Order rallied their own defenses with the combined might of the Galactic Alliance, the Mandalorian Enclave, the Ashlan Crusade, the Eternal Empire, and a united Jedi cause from across the galaxy.
Darkness and Light will collide head to head in an apocalyptic battle to decide the fate of the galaxy. The Brotherhood's battleground goals are to claim 'Prosperity' (in doing so hastening the ritual) and raze Kaleth to the ground, annihilating their enemies in one final decisive battle. On the other hand, the Tython Accords sally forth to drive the MAW back to their Destroyer, cut off the Head of the Snake, and prevent the destruction of Kaleth. One eye is kept open as the EMPIRE intervene, striking while the iron is hot to both prevent CHAOS from overwhelming the galaxy and impose their IRON WILL upon their rivals. With such powers vying for supremacy over the landscape of Tython, the world will quake, the sky will scream, and force storms rise to ravage the continent.
Beware, as the ritual of the Dark Voice begins, reality will break and bend. Tears will open, twisting the fabric of what is and is not.
"Together, we are as bright as any; we can weather this forceful storm, and wash away the darkness that plagues us now."
- Auteme
The Battle of Tython cannot be fought only on the ground, high above the planet, the assembled navies of the Tython Accords clash between the moons of Ashla and Bogan against the invading MAW Holy Armada. Not to let an opportunity pass them by, the EMPIRE joins the battle in an effort to outmaneuver both their rivals simultaneously. Outnumbered but not outgunned, the Brotherhood of the Maw desperately reveal their ace-in-the-hole, the planet-shattering superweapon not seen since the Great Battle of Korriban, the 'Avatar of War'.
From the lowliest frigates to gargantuan dreadnoughts, field your flagship and make war upon your enemies. Watch as the galaxy burns and all hell breaks loose above the skies of Tython.
"I will suffer the darkness no longer."
- Rurik Fel
The Sith'ari and his retinue ascend the great mountain of Akar Kesh where the Temple of Balance awaits. Convinced that the galaxy cannot break the cycle of the past and will continue to degenerate as time progresses, he enacts his plan to destroy the current galaxy with the Tho Yor as a conduit for the mystical energies of Tython by which he can use ALTER REALITY to break down the fabric of the galaxy and start fresh by creating one cast in his image.
As the battle rages over earth and sky, the terrible ritual begins. The NEW SITH ORDER and the DARKSIDERS of the MAW battle the agents of LIGHTSWORN and the tenacious NEW JEDI ORDER. The Great Enemy seek to protect the Dark Voice from all encroaching threats so that his ritual can go on unimpeded whilst the United Galaxy seek to cut off the Head of the Snake once and for all.
Aid the war effort and take down strategic targets for the advancing armies, engage in dramatic duels in a DUEL OF FATES as personal rivalries clash, or fight near the summit of the Akar Kesh against the forces of the Dark Voice. The fate of the galaxy is in your hands!
Big thanks Annasari for the amazing objective art!
[ Lady of the Dark ] <"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
Ingrid arrives to the place where she senses Solipsis, but Zachariel is in her way.
This day was interesting for the woman. Dromund Kaas was the first time that the Eternal Empire could actually reappear among the great powers of the Galaxy. Today was the second. They used to be there with Csilla and Korriban when the Ashlan Crusade tried to destroy the planet, though it wasn't very significant. But now yes; they were present with considerable force both on ground and in space. However, this day was strange and unusual.
The Maw was definitely the enemy of the Eternal Empire, and the Eternal Empress wanted them to fall, because of their actions, because of their methods. However, the fact did not matter at all whether or not Maw would be successful in destroying the planet. If so, well, there will be three fewer Nexus in the galaxy. They even do the Wardens of the Shroud a favour. At least the Wardens don’t have to perform openly and try something like that.
However, Ingrid was interested in something else today. She, like a lot of people in the galaxy, wanted to kill Darth Solipsis
. And the man was here on the planet. It was hard to not sense him as he was surrounded with the darkest focal point on the planet. And the Dark Side attracted her. Not because she was one of them; simply, it aroused much more hunger in the red-haired woman. Absorb and devour their power, as she did with the energies of Carnifex and Prazutis when they fought.
She was in constant contact with Baron Reinhardt Ström
and Aximand Sicarus
; the two men were responsible for ground and space battles, respectively. She asked them for constant reports. They knew the woman wanted to hunt down Solipsis on the planet's surface. Behead the snake, once and for all. That’s why she left her own troops when she sensed that Dark Voice was on the planet, too. Ingrid teleported near that place. However, here, before she could get close to Dark Voice, someone was already waiting for the Eternal Empress…
The man promised this at the Netherworld that this would happen. As she did as well, that is, she'll kill him, if he does not stand aside. Nevertheless, the woman had not yet attacked, but given her lover, the warlord of the Bloodsworn Tribe, a chance. A chance to live.
"Get out of my way Zachariel! You won’t get a second chance to stand aside!" her voice was ice cold, emotionless, now it didn't have the usual passionate and playful tone in her voice that the woman usually speaks to her lover when they are alone.
[ Lady of the Dark ] <"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
Ingrid arrives to the meeting.
Naboo; ironically the former capital of the CIS. Although Ingrid agreed that it would have been difficult to choose a more iconic neutral venue for this meeting. The Eternal Empire said yes to GA's request and they travelled to the planet. Ingrid, as usual lately, was accompanied by Baron Reinhardt Ström
. The grumpy uncle; most of all it was the best token the Eternal Empress found about the man.
After landing, she was walking along the ramp, accompanied by the four bodyguards, and on the "runway" to the vehicle, which would take her to the rendezvous site. Ingrid had never loved bodyguards, but it was now a situation where it was all mandatory. There was also a fifth bodyguard with her, invisible. She trusted him the best of those present. NN220, formerly known as Alain Price. Commander-in-Chief of Shadow Company. The man was there with her at NIO and GA talks, and whenever she was negotiating with the AC. Only no one knew about it.
The last meeting with GA was quite tense, and although results were achieved, it was ironically easier to negotiate with the NIO. They were more like them.
<"Overseer, please try to be restrained. If the data is correct, the Enclave will also be present. It would be unfortunate if GA were turned against us as they are allies. Let the Enclave look like barbarians, savages, not us. We are more civilised than they are."> she told him.
They soon arrived at the meeting place. Here, she allowed the members of the delegation, or rather the reception committee, to accompany her into the meeting room. If all is true, Tithe was already here, and she greeted the man with joy.
"Old friend, Chancellor! Nice to meet you again in person. It last happened a long time ago." she greeted Tithe and gave a hand, accompanied by a sincere and kind smile.
Ever since they last met on Coruscant during her captivity, Ingrid hasn't aged a minute. Besides, one thing was still the same, the red-haired woman was really happy to see the Chancellor.
DARK LORD OF THE SITH |VOICE OF THE MAW Akar Kesh, Tython
The Dark Lord's fingers hesitated, dangling adrift in the ethereal gust as the heavenly Tho Yor drifted directly above. The time had come. Blackened smoke and distant fires lit in the horizon, the dust had settled around the downed destroyer, the Brotherhood marched toward battle. Today would decide the Fate of the Galaxy, the Day of Victory was at hand, the Day of the Sith.
"That day is here."
His eyes rose up to the sky, yet his attentions were elsewhere. Darth Mori."You know what you must do, should the time come." His treacherous grin spread from ear to ear with sickening glee. At the top of the world they stood, apex of the great spire within the empty fountain belonging to the Temple of Balance. Surrounded by his retinue, he spoke.
"The Ritual begins!"
Ten long years of war, decades of planning, and countless plots weaved together into one grand juncture. Just as the Sith had experienced the power of rebirth, so too would the galaxy be remade in the fires of tribulation. The cycle would be broken, a new genesis at hand, paradise made manifest. The Great Error corrected.
His suspended hand reached out, clutching at the invisible current that flowed through him, grasping the empyrean with all his mental might as he summoned the full power of the Dark Side of the Force. Working at the speed of thought, his mind tapped into the currents of the Force, spinning, shaping, and twisting it's intricate nature to his will. The cold darkness began to swallow him up, eyes shining forth like lanterns as inky blackness began to snuff out the trademark sulfuric stains imparted upon him.
BRRRRRRGUUUUUUUUUHHHHH!
The Great Tho Yor sounded off, piercing the heavens with a mighty roar. It's siblings followed suit, calling out to the denizens of the galaxy a warning, an ill omen. The powerful energies of Tython slowly began to gather, particles of invisible majesty, the bestowing gifts of life.. taken, as the instruments of ancient salvation were twisted into weapons of galactic damnation. The mighty vergeance was tapped into and pulled from, the center of the galaxy weaponized to bring this facade, this most terrible dream, crashing down.
"Agh."
The high winds of the tall spire rolled into a mighty tempest, the Sith'ari and his retinue would now be caught in it's tight grip as everything spiraled around the mighty ritual. While none could see it, there was a battle of wills transpiring around them. Teetering on the precipice of the void, the metaphysical spirit of the Dark Voice relentlessly forced his will upon the Force as it rejected, pushed, and fought to repel the invading 'body'.
His physical shell, that anchor that held him to the corporeal world, reached out in the direction of his daughter, Jem Fossk
. Eyes as black as night, his cloak fluttered violently against the aggravated wind. The Dark Father opened his hand, extended in invitation as the very space around him bent unnaturally.
[ Race to the Sea ] <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
She prepares to leave and tells Gei her worries.
~ Sanctuary, Netherworld, not too much before the Maw's attack ~
Eina and Geiseric did not go ahead with the others to Tython; for them it was a few minutes through the Netherworld. The last few days have been spent at the Sanctuary. But the days together before the war soon came to an end and now they had to go. Eina had been restless for days. She wasn't nervous or tense, but she felt in the Force that something was approaching, something bad. There was a disturbance in the Force, and she was blind this time.
She had always been receptive to this, and she knew she would always feel this before all of the major wars. Death always attracted her due to her species. But today, she felt the cruel longing and hunger of beings who are hungry for souls, and she felt the Bogan more than ever. Even now, it was like feelings like Csilla happened, or just before the great Korriban fight. And there at Korriban, Gei didn't come home. Everyone thought he was dead, only Eina fought for him. They were just friends back then, though there were already connections between them, they were from the first moment, but they weren't too close to each other. But today?
Best friends, soul mates, lovers, husband and wife. As they were just putting on their armour to leave, Eina walked over to Gei and embraced him from behind as she cuddled up to the man. Her forearms placed on the man's belly and his upper body, then the woman's two palms stopped on the man's chest and hugged him in this way. The Valkyrja placed her chin on the man's shoulder and looked at him from the side.
["I have been feeling the joy, the hunger and excitement of Maw’s Avatars for days. It is the strongest today. It causes restlessness as if they know something in advance. But the future is now shrouded in darkness. Ashla's light can't penetrate the shadow of Maw's Avatars. I'm blind. Please take great care of yourself during the fight, you know I can't fight on your side right now, my beloved crusader!"] she whispered to him in Essonian.
She closed her eyes after her words, it was such a peaceful and intimate moment and it was such a good feeling to embrace her husband…
Dodhorn Harert, the Hellwolf of Mandalore Alor of Clan Harert, Sith Lord, Former Mandalore the Ruthless
Objective: Protect Darth Solipsis and his ritual. Location: Around the ritual Equipment:Beskar'gam | 2x Beskad | 2x Su'arnr be Tracyn | 1x red blade lightsaber Writing With: Vilaz Munin
| Briika Munin Allies: Open Enemies: Open
[ Let There Be Night ] <"Mandalorian or ur-Kittât"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
Dodhorn arrives and prepares to the defences.
Dodhorn has been a pretty good fit in the current world order lately. Maw and Death’s Hand were perfectly suited to the woman’s goals. A place where she didn’t look weird because most of the Mandalorians who joined this faction were like her. Although Khamul Kryze
has not yet convinced her that it would be worthy of the name or title he owned; nevertheless, the woman still gave him a last chance. He can prove his worth today. This will be the man's final test.
If he proves unworthy, Dodhorn will kill him. The Hellwolf did not tolerate weakness and incompetence. She joined the New Sith Order here and the attackers precisely to oversee Khamul's actions. The other reason was much more poetic. She's never been on this planet before. And the woman wasn't particularly famous for going to some planet as a tourist. No, she used to conquer. Or just destroy. In this case, she would have been happy if Tython had been destroyed and drowned into blood.
She hated the Jedi as both a Sith and a Mandalorian; so it all seemed perfectly perfect to the woman. Last but not least, she had the opportunity to really kill a Jedi so long ago. And drink of their blood. Oh yes, how thirsty she was to the Jedi's or Sith's blood Although, right now, Dodhorn had to make a temporary alliance with the Sith. Although what is delayed does not depend. Sooner or later, the laws of the age in which she lived will be fulfilled. The Sith do not form an alliance with each other, but kill each other.
The Hellwolf looked ahead, into the distance. Where they were now almost sounds like an invitation. Almost every New Sith Order member was here nearby, leaving a huge darkening spot on the planet, in the Force. The Force storms are already raging because the balance has been broken. She knew the history of the planet, the origin of the Je'daii order. Dodhorn would have enjoyed seeing these ancient memories perish forever.
But in the meantime, there will still be a lot of blood flowing today. The Hellwolf smiled mockingly under her helmet. She couldn't wait for the defenders of the planet to arrive where they were.
Mercy also spends the last night before arriving with Mongrel, reflecting on the past and asks her husband whether the man is proud of her.
Keilara does the same with Kallan and sees the beautiful dawn as full of hope.
Mercy has countless plans for the future together when she joins her husband to head to the planet.
~ Earlier, en route to Tython | Mongrel and Mercy ~ ~ Do you remember our first meeting? ~ I asked him.
In our minds, at home, I lay next to him, hugging him, resting my head on his chest, while in reality I hugged his durasteel body at his shoulders. Over the years I had time to learn how to do it so as not to hurt myself. It was still so unbelievable that after Teta we got married and he was really part of my family. Officially too. Of course, it was still a secret that no one could ever know. Neither at Serenno nor at the Maw. Our secret, forever.
There was what was needed in the information I got on Teta and many other useful things. I also killed three people last week while practicing the method by which I can separate him and Kallan finally as he wished and wanted. The last two attempts were already very hopeful.
~ Soon, it only takes a few more weeks, no more. ~ I promised him, and Keilara also promised Kallan.
I didn't know what would happen then. It is planned that Kallan will be in my mind temporarily until we can transfer him and Keilara to some other body. It was all crazy! And plans… I don't know… nevermind.
~ I'm not thinking of Jakku, but before that, Carlac. ~ I smiled at him.
I’ve been with him almost always since Teta. Now I didn’t go ahead to reconnaissance Tython, I sent my team forward. Although Keilara asked Kallan to wait patiently, I couldn’t be sure he'll endure this. I really fell asleep next to him every day. I asked him if there was any problem, he would wake me up immediately to keep the shields strong. So I didn’t sleep much, took care of him, guarded him and practiced. I'll sleep and rest when I'm dead.
~ Ziare really didn't know who you were, it was her first mission, and you were a new warlord, the Thrice-Born Hound. ~ I still smile at the memory, I remembered all the memories of Ziare, even that day. ~ Ironically, we were the first to try to assassinate you, and later I prevented countless of these which would have been done against you ~
During my words, I touched the parts where Ziare hurt him.
~ Our first words when Ziare asked you, "What kind of devilish creature are you?!" She couldn't have been wrong better. We both almost killed each other that day. A lot has changed since then, in a good direction. ~ I fell silent for a moment. ~ I remember what you said to her, "I am the metal and flesh made one, I am the beast's savage power joined with the machine's cold perfection." No, you're much more than that. Much, much more. ~ I breathed, then I laughed softly. ~ Her words are still amusing me. "I have no idea who you are, you just became the target because your ugliness hurt my sense of beauty." She didn’t even think then how much we would love… everything about you. ~
Again, pause for a few moments while I kissed him briefly in our minds.
~ You called Ziare a coward, and she did the same. You probably weren't wrong, but she was wrong. She wanted you to kill her, to kill us… ~
I was positioned so that I could look him right in the eye, both in our minds and in reality, now I was right and stood in front of him.
~ You thought she was an assassin that day, she wasn't. For her methods, you considered her a coward for the assassination because he worked as an agent and not as a warrior like you, but you saw some fire and spirit in her. I never asked you… ~
I paused for a moment.
~ I became your shadow, your agent, your assassin, before we felt love for each other. I became what you despised in me at our first meeting. Did you hate me, condemn me, and consider me a coward because I served you that way? And do I still serve you in that way? And because I'll serve you in that way until my death in the future? I kill those from the shadows who want to hurt you; I know, sometimes I do this face to face, but I prefer to use others, and not fight in person. I steal information from the enemy for you, to reap victory, not openly fight them. I know I have proven my strength and rank within the Tribe countless times. There are many who consider me as your best people and are afraid of me. However, others consider me a coward because I never tried to get to where Barran is or just try to be your Second-in-command, but I accepted the simple advisor position. ~ I told him.
The simple advisory role was a lie, of course, but no one else knows about it.
~ True, they don't know I'm more than that. That we are friends, confidentials, lovers… and already married. Family. ~ I said softly.
I bit into my lower lip for a moment. From this he could know that a somewhat more serious question was coming. I didn't do this temptingly now, but I was a little confused.
~ I've ever managed to achieve those goals for which you take Ziare with you from Carlac? Are you satisfied and proud of me? Not as your wife, not as the woman you love. But… as a warlord, are you satisfied with what I have done and achieved as a soldier? Did I achieve what you wanted to see when you took her? ~ I asked him seriously, I wanted to know. ~ It occurred to me that you hadn't called us "little shadow-killer" since that day. ~ I smiled at him again. ~ Yet this name suits me much better than it ever has for Ziare. ~ I chuckled a little.
After my words, I watched and listened to him for a long time, in both worlds, in reality, and in our minds. Next to him, I felt calm, secure, and happy. I felt empathy on his side and every other feeling. Not the total disinterest, anger I used to look at the world with. I wish it could last forever, I wish the war would end and I wouldn’t have to worry about losing him. I smiled at him again in both places.
~ How are you today, Lord Kala'myr? ~ I asked kindly and playfully.
I think I liked to call him that, I know it's my… that is, Keilara's last name, which is more ours. But he never mentioned his own, and as Mongrel, he wasn’t having any. So I think it was the most appropriate and appropriate for him and Kallan. I don't care what others say, I thought they deserved it. After my marriage, I actually took the title of Countess of House Kala'myr instead of Baroness, which Ziare should have done years ago. It was my decision as to who would receive the rank of Lord Kala'myr.
Who else would have received it if not our husbands?
~ Ever since you were completely torn apart and you want me to separate both of you, I haven’t called you Kallan because you refer to him that way too. However,… I feel Mongrel is not the right name for you. For me, you are also Kallan and I am fond of that name, but if you don’t like it anymore, would you choose another name for yourself, as I may call you? A name that belongs to me and not to the Maw like the Mongrel does? ~ I asked him in the end.
~ Earlier/Present, inside the mind palace | Kallan and Keilara ~
I still experienced it as a miracle if I could fall asleep and wake up, if Kallan was there with me. It all differed from reality only in that we had no interaction with anyone other than each other. There was no civilization and no other people. Just what MANIAC projected, or just what I imagined and built for us. But really, if we had decided to move to an uninhabited planet, we would still be the only two of us.
It was like that this morning, too. A gift, a miracle. I just didn’t tell him how many people Mercy killed for trying to separate him from Mongrel. I think Kallan would never have accepted freedom at the cost of other people’s deaths. Even if they were like Mongrel. Members of the Maw, victims, brainwashed, destroyed victims, like us.
~ Mercy is close, the next phase is coming soon, which leads us to be free... lead us to freedom. To our new life, together. ~ I told him with a happy smile.
It was easier for me, whatever clone body would have been perfect, from my own body. But Kallan? It wasn’t that simple for him, they no longer had a physical body, the old one probably didn’t exist anymore. If we wanted something like that, we would have had a sample of their brains to make a clone. But that could have hurt him and Mongrel again. But I really loved him, so I would have accepted any body, even an HRD. After the last few years, it really didn’t matter. I was happy with him, even without a physical body, only in our minds.
The first rays of the sun shone into the bedroom. Today it was somehow different, much prettier than usual. When I got out of bed I picked up Kallan's shirt from the ground and put it on to myself. In his shirt, I walked to the window. I looked back at Kallan again with a smile before I opened the window to let in the fresh outside air. The air was fresh and cool with rain and floral scents. As if it really was a paradise. It was so hopeful.
~ Maybe all four of us can be free today. Maybe Mercy is already successful today. ~ I said hopefully.
~ Present, Tython | Mongrel and Mercy ~
As usual, I used the cloaking device to get out of his sanctum to return to my own "room" .It's like I've been there all evening and night. That is, in this case, throughout the journey. As always, I made sure that no one could notice anything of this. I wouldn’t stand the fact if something had happened to him through my fault. If he would look weak, in the eyes of the tribe, because of me.
I still ate and drank something fast, I almost always forget that when I was with him because he didn’t need it. Even a quick cold shower to wake me up even more, a standard dose of coffee and caffeine. Quick check of weapons and armour. Everything was fine. When the order arrived, I set off to the hangar.
Under my helmet, I walked down the aisles of the ship, all the way to the hangars, smiling cheerfully. With each step, my heart was beating harder and harder, I was breathing harder and harder, only from the awareness that I would be there again physically. We have always been together in our connected minds, but still, every time I have these reactions. The pleasant cramp in my belly, the longing to his touch, his kisses, to hear his voice.
Love…
I owe him the most beautiful and happiest days of my life. In the meantime, I arrived at the hangar. Here, in the benevolent coverage of my helmet, I watched him as he prepared, handing out orders. My husband; I felt myself the luckiest woman in the galaxy that he was mine and I was his. I was just sorry that no one but the two of us knew about this. And the play had to continue.
I stopped in a military stance at a distance from him where I had to do this as his soldier, as his subordinate and servant.
"Warlord!" I saluted as expected. "This is a good day for victory and the destruction of the unbelievers!"
In our minds, however, I could act like his wife, as an equal to him. I stepped beside him and threaded my fingers between his as I hugged him and cuddled to him.
~ I hope we win soon and get back on board soon. We still have to finish the movie, which we will stop at night. I already miss you! ~ I smiled at him.
I still had so many plans for what we can do, and what we're going to do together after the fights…
And maybe one day we'll even leave the Maw together, hoping for a better life…
Location: Tython Objective: Defend the temple Tag: Erion Justeene
The last minutes of peace on Tython were coming to an end, darkness would soon shroud the world and the fate of its history would be in their hands. Pressure like no other was on all their shoulders this day, it was either push the dark cloud back with all their might or leave the planet and its precious Jedi history to be blown apart as if it never existed. As long as they trusted in the force, they were sure to succeed. Through the face of such evil they needed to be strong and fight with everything they had, anything less would seal all of their futures within a single blast of a weapon so powerful beyond their wildest dreams.
Silas lay cross legged on the floor inside the temple, his body in deep meditation to prepare for the horrors that approached them. He knew one day a time would come to draw his final breath and leave the mortal world behind. Today was not that day, the force still had much more to show him as well as his own life. Inside his skull held a conflicted mind, one that wrestled with who he truly was. At heart he was a Jedi, who cared and did everything to protect those who needed it most. While his soul was poisoned with the spirit of the Darkside, a curse many of us ancestors before him could never truly shake off. Was there any point to fight his true destiny?
Suddenly, a distant explosion forced the temple walls around him to vibrate. It didn't wake him, but the second explosion certainly did. His light blue eyes snapped open to the sound of shouting and a rush of footsteps outside his room. He glared to the doorway calmly and watched thoughtfully as each soldier and Jedi ran past, wondering if it was going to be the last time he'd see their faces alive. There was no doubt both sides would suffer heavy casualties, and a sorrow for the dead that would last a generation. He couldn't just sit here, right now he needed to get up and join them in whatever their fates decided.
Jumping up in a nonchalant motion he made his way to the front entrance of the temple, its light temporarily blinding him as he felt the warm breeze hit his face softly. Far above them in the sky outlines of cruisers and ships were firing off their first barrages at the enemy fleet, indicating the start of judgment day for their order. He couldn't let his thoughts get in the way, today was the day he proved himself to be a true jedi...
Objective 1/3
Tags: Ingrid L'lerim
| Darth Solipsis
| Hi'los Krai
Anyone else warposting and attacking Akar Kesh, if you wish to fight, feel free to reach out
Duel: CLOSED
Warpost: DM me to work something out, NuMo#0475
Links: Weapons | Some vehicles and other stuff
Tython, final objective of the Brotherhood, last desperate gamble to destroy the homeworld of the Jedi. The Brotherhood had traveled far for this, sacrificed much, and they would sacrifice even more to achieve their goals. With any luck, they would succeed and leave the planet a desolate wasteland, or a debris field.
However, as the Bloodsworn took up position around Akar Kesh, as Zachariel stood to the defenses, he wondered how possible it truly was. As a warlord, the gen'dai was fed constant reports from every source he could get his hands on. Their reports were grim. If they didn't succeed now in reshaping the galaxy… well, they would burn that bridge should they need to.
For now, Zachariel had defenses to organize and a lover to hold off. He knew, all in the Maw knew, that the alliance would attack this place, seeking to kill Solipsis and stop the ritual. As such, there were those to stand in their way. The Bloodsworn were simply one of those defenders, and Zachariel one of its leaders.
Standing on the rocky outcrop, he looked across the rough defensive lines, and grinned. No matter what happened, this would be bloody. He could already feel it in the Force, the death and bloodshed that was happening and that would. Closing his eyes, the warlord breathed deeply of that rich scent.
--------
Opening his eyes, Zachariel's gaze swept the area. The scenery had changed, no longer was he atop a rocky outcropping, now he stood in a sort of dip in the mountain. He had left his prior position in search of a better place to fight, a place where someone may try to sneak past. This was all but perfect for it, and as Ingrid materialized across from him, he chuckled and shook his head. She had become somewhat predictable, at least to him. It helped that he knew her plans to kill Solipsis.
Her short declaration made him shake his head once more, arms still folded behind his back. They both knew the times for games had passed, now was a time for action. And that meant neither could stand down.
"My dear, you know as well as I, that won't happen."
Moving his arms from his back to his sides, he smoothly unholstered his weapons at the same time. Axe in one hand, sword in the other, Zachariel stood ready to fight, yet he didn't move.
In the defense of Akar Kesh and Solipsis, all that could be done to defend the Voice, had been done. In the case of the Bloodsworn, they were hardly used to being on the defensive. But needs must. As such, they set about with all their usual skill and no small amount of gusto, eager to fight in the shadow of their warlord and the Dark Voice once more.
Where they could, trenches had been hastily dug in what small time they had. However, these were hardly extensive and were instead focused on single squads. Most squads simply used the environment and their vehicles for cover. Others still were atop speeders and other vehicles, prepared to rush forward once the enemy engaged. The response of the Bloodsworn was many and varied, but they stood ready to defend Akar Kesh.
Heavy weapon teams set up on overlooks, regular squads huddled in cover, and others still prepared to rush forth. Above the din and clamor of war, the Chosen directed the loyal followers of the Bloodsworn, even as they too readied for war. Their orders had been simple, hold off any who dared try and interrupt the ritual.
War returned to this part of Tython, and the Bloodsworn began their desperate fight to hold off the allied forces. Across their lines, fire began to pour forth and war cries left their lips.
"For the glory of the Bloodsworn! For the Dark Three!"
-: IN ORBIT OF TYTHON, ETERNAL RULE :-
He placed Himself before the visage of the Great Teachers, the six Dark Lords of the Sith, whom the adherents of Qoritwaichwayat viewed as the pillars upon which the Sith faith rested. Ajunta Pall, Naga Sadow, Vitiate, Bane, Sidious, and Krayt. Their edifices, carved in precision to their exact likeness, looked down upon Him as He whispered the ancient hymns and recited the Catechisms word-by-word. He had been stripped of all artifice, His bare skin beaded with perspiration as thuribles filled with burning incense hypnotically oscillated like pendulums. The acolytes that carried these instruments were little more than bandaged-faced ghouls, their wretched forms concealed behind heavy rough spun zeyd-cloth.
When He at last rose, He did so without a sound. Passing from the inner sanctum to an adjourning sacristy, moving to the center of the room before kneeling down on both knees. As He did, several more acolytes emerged from recesses in the walls and began to prepare various ointments and tinctures. Half of these acolytes moved to apply the oil to His skin, well-lubricating every inch of His naked flesh until He shone like a golden idol. The others brought forth special parchment, inscribed in golden lettering the sanctified teachings of the Dark Side.
Carefully, oh so carefully, they began to apply the parchment onto His skin. It clung to Him because of the oil, molding around the contours of His muscular frame like a second skin. Only His head remained untouched, His hair bound back with various ceremonial fastenings inscribed with words of faith. When the acolytes had finished, they brought forth black clay pots filled with powdered bone, covering Him in a light dusting before disappearing into the alcoves from which they emerged. Only then did He rise, covered from neck to ankle in the words of the Great Teachers.
Moving hence, He found Himself in an armory. Piece by piece, His armor was assembled upon Him by more acolytes. Runic plate clad His form, black hammered Sarrassian iron etched with geometric ur-Kittât symbols that burned a bright red. Rough spun zeyd-cloth adorned sections of His armor, including a long tabard underneath His chest plate and flowing down past His groin and between His legs. A cloak of energy-resistant silk was draped from His broad shoulders, the fine fabric interwoven with pieces of Mandalorian iron; all harvested from the victims of Hammerfall. When the ministrations of the acolytes had ceased, He approached an ornamental shrine at the far end of the chamber.
Placed upon it was a lightsaber, constructed out of jagged cerakote and large enough to comfortably fit in the palm of His hand. He reached out and the weapon leapt from the pedestal and into His grasp, His fingers curling around the hilt before slipping it into a magnetic sheath at His waist. Finally, He picked up a large ram-horned helmet that was perched upon another pedestal, holding the item under the crux of His arm as He left the chamber and moved out into the corridor.
A small retinue of guardsmen awaited Him, kneeling as He emerged and then rising when bidden. They fell in line behind Him as He moved, silently shadowing His every step so that nothing, not even here in His own sanctuary, could pose a threat to Him. The halls of the Eternal Rule were orderly, maintained, with nary a soul to stand between Him and His destination. All organic crew members were busying themselves with their designated tasks, hardwired into their stations or overseeing those that were. Automated systems controlled by Tsudakyr, living brains, picked up the slack in every other sector.
The hangar bays of the Eternal Rule were filled with soldiers and vehicles, all of them organized into battalions and further into companies. They waited silently, standing in perfect regimental formation at mustering stations near idle transports. All of them were strand-casts, beings artificially created to serve a single purpose; war. They had all been drilled since pre-birth to follow orders without pause, to carry out the dictates of their Dark Father. If given the command, all of them would have taken their own lives with an affirmation of their undying fidelity on their lips.
As He entered the upper levels of the hangar, all eyes turned to face Him. An energy coursed through the disciplined ranks, an excitement ingrained into their psyche that activated whenever they saw or heard their Dark Father. Yet, despite the endorphins that now flooded their minds, they did not break formation. The only indication that any change had overcome them were the twinkling of unshed tears in their awestruck eyes. They would only move when commanded to, and as the Dark Father raised His hand to address them, they all simultaneously fell to one knee.
“My children,” the velvety voice of the Dark Father carried far, unaided by any mechanical means. A single brief sentence was enough to send a collective shudder throughout the kneeling congregation, many strand-casts momentarily finding their own breath caught in their throat. They were completely enraptured, snared by the magnetic power of the one who had given them the breath of life. “Once again, I have called upon you to bring forth arbitration upon another world. Below lies the world of Tython. The Maw covets the destruction of this world for their own ends, their ambition to see their molten fist swept through the cradle of the Jedi.”
The strand-casts listened raptly, words such as Tython unknown to them because of their sheltered upbringing, but nonetheless grasping what their Dark Father was telling them. Another world had been chosen for judgment, and they had been blessed to serve as its executioner. That the Maw also struck at Tython made little difference to them, for they served only one master. “You will assist in the eradication of Tython, leveling all that the Jedi erected in their arrogance. There will be no quarter for any that stand in our way.”
He gestured again, and the ranks stood in unison, crying out their solemn oath. “By the will and grace of our immortal Father, who fashioned us as His chosen instruments, we shall obey.” Thousands of voices spoke as one, the echoes reverberating throughout the hangar and beyond. Then they began to move, boarding their landing craft as the order was given to disembark from the Eternal Rule. Dozens and dozens of ships emerged from the Eternal Rule, flanked by the various starfighters and support craft that had accompanied the Eternal Rule on its journey.
Darkness descended upon Tython.
Shells burst close to the landing craft, bulbous bursts of bright orange and fierce red. Some were not as nimble as their neighbors, or perhaps had unfortunately strayed onto the wrong path, and were cracked open like an egg as enemy fire tore into the fuselage. Soldiers and their supplies tumbled out from the doomed craft, falling to the distant earth as some of the first casualties of the battle. Agile cutters, bristling with light armament, swerved between the oncoming fire to levy their own firepower against the enemy. Anti-air emplacements blossomed with fire as their operators scattered for cover, lest they suffer the same fate as those they consigned to death in the skies above.
Many times had He dipped through a planet’s atmosphere amidst the hellish cacophony of war. Secured within the reinforced hold of a transport, the Dark Lord of the Sith listened to the furious battle raging beyond the durasteel walls. He could sense each and every loss of life, the Dark Side swelling with greater power each time another life was snuffed from existence. War and the Dark Side were inseparable, for the Force moved darkly around any creature about to kill. And in war, every participant was intent on killing.
He breathed in deeply, the stale recycled air of the transport funneling through both nostrils, into His lungs, and back out of His pursed mouth. The Force tugged at the periphery of His mind, warning Him of the impending danger. He could visualize it in His mind, a shell launched from far down below careening towards the underbelly of His landing craft. He could have averted it, could have informed the pilot to maneuver in a manner that would have allowed the shell to pass by harmlessly. Not only that, but he could have used the Force to destroy it before it could even pose a threat, or knock it off course.
But no, it had been too long since He had tasted the adrenaline of a difficult landing. The only warning He gave to His compatriots sharing His craft was a cold, steely look, their eyes widening only for a moment before they bowed their heads. Then the shell slammed into the underside of the craft, and all became fire and noise. The explosion tore through the less-armored sections of the craft, instantly killing both pilots and any other support staff in the cockpit. The fuselage was more armored, and therefore did not suffer as greatly.
Yet, a large seam had been broken open from the impact. Air rushed in through this gap and spun around the cabin, knocking aside anything not sturdy enough to weigh itself down. The Dark Lord rose where He stood, seemingly unfazed by the turbulent gale, and the other Sith mirrored His stance. With both hands, the Dark Lord tore aside the disembarkation door at His back, and looked down at the rapidly approaching ground as their ship descended to its fiery end. Without a word, the Dark Lord flung Himself from the doomed craft and began to free-fall through the open air.
The ground rushed up beneath Him, but the Dark Lord was not frightened. Subtle manipulation of surrounding air currents allowed Him to gradually slow His descent, positioning Himself directly over an enemy emplacement before allowing gravity to re-exert its influence. With a venomous snap-hiss, His lightsaber ignited just as He descended upon the hapless defenders. All it took was several brief rotations of His wrist to make quick work of them, lobbing off limbs and slicing through armor as though it were thin air. They could only offer a paltry defense, their combined strength no match for that of a trained Lord of the Sith.
When the last one fell, the Dark Lord reached out and seized control of the anti-air cannon with the Force. He manipulated its internal components, swiveling the cannon on its base until the barrels faced a nearby emplacement that had not yet been neutralized. He balled His hand into a fist, and the anti-air cannon began to bark and recoil as it opened fire. The other emplacement was gradually consumed by fire and explosions, its own gun ceasing within moments. When that task was done, the Dark Lord destroyed the gun He had commandeered so that it could not be used against Him.
Fire began to rise from the nearby hills as more of His forces made landfall and destroyed more defensive emplacements. In time, the entire mountain range would be swarming with Kainate soldiers. He looked up towards His true objective, the entire reason that He had come to this forsaken planet. The Force-henge sat idyllic at the top of the hill, a smattering of Alliance marines and Jedi Knights defending it. With lit saber, the Dark Lord began to ascend the hill.
Hunched over in prayer, the strand-cast speeder bike pilot designated as SF-3335, recited the litany of the Qotsisajak, words ingrained in her soul since the formation of her mind inside an exowomb. All the while, the droning, yet melodic chants of the Kissai filled her ears, in spite of the fact that she was far from the source of the vocalizations, in the middle of the vast staging area where thousands of her brothers and sisters were gathered for the rites.
IX-73 strand-casts were not meant to be left idle for long. While they never forgot their true purpose—that of prosecuting the crusades of their Eternal Father—under conditions of inactivity, it was easy for them to become distracted with other pursuits, sometimes of a hedonistic, reckless, or extreme nature. For her part, SF-3335 had let herself be consumed by her training, to the point of injury. Under a strict interpretation, her excessive training could be considered a vice, in the sense that more often than not, riding was an avenue of reckless thrill-seeking for her. The thrill of running increasingly dangerous courses, practicing daring maneuvers, and pushing both body and machine to their limits before going past that point in a violent crash.
However, even with those experiences fresh in her mind, SF-3335 could never have felt more in tune with the roiling energies of the Dark Side and the font of power that was the Daeva than she did now, entranced in prayer in the moments before a great shatterpoint that could raise her God to new heights of power.
The vehicle bay was a din of activity as droids, technicians, pilots, officers, and crew members made the final preparations for the landing. After the last of the technical checks for her speeder bike were complete, the Morellian coasted her machine on low power into the troop transport, before maneuvering the vehicle into an alcove at the rear of the troop bay. Following just behind her, the two squads of soldiers she had been tasked with escorting took their positions, the disembarkation ramp slamming shut as the transport’s engines hummed to life before howling with take off.
They were among the first to make planetfall.
The transport—flying in a squadron with ten others—tore through the atmosphere amidst a torrent of AA fire, which peppered its shields at intermittent intervals, which yet held under the assault. However, with each blast, the interior bay lurched forcefully, compelling SF-3335 to keep her grip on the nearby supports even as she powered on her bike’s engines in preparation for the landing. Glancing over at her wingman, she watched as he struggled with the same, in spite of the fact that he was far more experienced than she was, being a veteran of multiple battles in the Third Imperial Civil War whereas SF-3335 was only active for the Third Battle of Ziost.
Tython promised to be something far different.
In a plume of smoke and hissing gasses, the transport touched down at the base of the Force-henge, one of six out of the original ten to make it to the landing zone without either being shot down or forced to divert course. Already, hives of Vorn-Strunga were swarming the mountain, serving as both cannon fodder and shock troopers as the strand-cast infantry disembarked from their transports.
Then, came the cavalry.
Slamming the accelerator, SF-3335 willed the Crimson Velocity out of the bay, speeding ahead of the main body of infantry as she turned her machine guns on the enemy positions around the Force-henge, providing covering fire and bloodthirsty destruction in equal measure. Alliance Marines in defensive positions were quickly forced under cover, but three soldiers who were either brave or foolish enough to do so attempted to return fire, only to meet their ends as a salvo of explosive slugs took off their heads. Her firepower and others like it gave the Vorn-Strunga and the strand-cast infantry the openings they needed to ascend the mountain, closing in on the Marines to engage them in vicious melee and close-quarter firefights. All the while, SF-3335 drove her bike around the enemy’s flanks, gunning down targets of opportunity in a pair of strafing attacks that left five Marines cut down in her wake.
As the final defensive positions in and around the Force-henge were swept through, the combined octahedral forms of a Coloi-class carrier and a Silooth-class cruiser touched down at the base of the mountain, giving life to fresh swarms of Vorn-Strunga and strand-cast reinforcements.
In the force, there is no rest, there is constant motion, and to be idle is not permissible. Being active and furthering yourself in the Force was the way and with Tython looming ever closer, the Force is sizzling with tightly wound tension, a little like an overstretched elastic band, ready to snap. It was making his skin goose pimple, at least where it hadn’t been burned.
Darth Superious had prepared for Tython for days now and still, there is so much to do and very little room for error. Even if it meant more training and meditation to help with the Planet’s gravity and terrain, there is a plan to overwhelm the defending forces and destroy the planet, just as the Avatars desired.
He also spent time looking at the map of the planet they are attacking, just to form a plan of action, he did circle a Jedi Temple ruin with a thick red marker. He’ll hit this location while on Planet, that was not a threat, that was a promise.
This means he cannot afford to walk to wherever he wants to go during the attack, the idea is just silly, by the time he gets there, the battles may be over and he hates not being there to add to the carnage and destruction. He did nab a War Bike for this exact reason.
Work smarter, not harder.
The wounds from Empress Teta healed quicker than anticipated, the nasty scarring serves as a lesson that he will take on going forward. Still, he needs to learn to use the force to speed up the process as too long is going to make it harder to heal full stop.
As for equipment, he knew that his weapons were sufficient for his endeavours as they should be for a Sith Lord. Yet there is a nagging voice right at the back of his head that, Sabers are not enough, the tenets of the Sith must be followed. So, he ignores this little voice even though it still protests loudly about bringing too little and that there has to be more weaponry or even detonators to supplement his arsenal.
Ubese like those quite a bit, you don’t see them without a Thermal clipped to their belt. Superious found them undignified.
Superious also needed food, water and medical supplies as it is going to be a long war and he knew that the defenders may not permit the attacking forces to live off the lands. So, he needs to store up food just in case there is nothing worth salvaging. Scorched Earth is effective if you are caught unawares.
He has not planned to partner up with anyone else, but yet somehow his mind circled back on Thomas Barran, they briefly met on Durace but it was cut short by Wraiths that wanted to make grated cheese out of everyone and if he did not think quickly, he too would have been shredded into fine strips. Luckily a storm rolled in and he was able to aim lightning at them.
He never wants to get clawed by something like them again if he can help it. But in contrast to the near-death experience, he also learned from his mistakes, particularly going into active warzones by himself where he can be a target.
He was fortunate he both survived and got out with all four limbs attached. Somehow the Ubese realized he may not be so lucky this time, he needs some protection if he is going to remain alive and breathing at the end.
Only a couple of days to go before the call to war reaches him. Plenty of time to prepare. At least that was the plan, and he will adapt where needed. Also stomping more Jedi will always be a plus to him, he’s faced three already, one he had to retreat from to save face from being embarrassed. His ego cannot tolerate such bad outcomes.
Well, there was no point staying aboard as there was little to do and that was not where the fight is, no planetfall is where the excitement is, on the surface along with the guard he got together, they have decent rapport and they haven’t objected in following the Ubese into hellscape carnage, maybe they were just as ready to pick a huge fight as he was.
The Speed Bike roared across the landscape, kicking up dust and tumbleweeds, UbaIV has those too and they are a pain in the backside, to deal with and they stick buildings, machinery and clothing, even he had to spend hours removing the thorns from his derriere after he got buried in them when he was visiting that one time.
As Superious traversed the roads leading to the East something at the mountain was piquing his Force Sense and it was familiar to him, someone he met before.
Thomas? He can’t tell from here but as he gets closer the recognisable vibration became clearer. It was Thomas, alive and ready to let loose the hounds of war upon all those that oppose the Maw.
Once at the mountain, Superious slowed to a stop, this was a much faster way to travel than walking and less energy wasted means more to invest in fighting. He is no fool and even he knows not to walk from A to B under a heavy Warfare.
Many of them got themselves killed that way, even those who knew better or bragged they were highly skilled. The Ubese certainly felt no pity when they got eaten by Sith Eldritch Horrors, as far as he was concerned they were asking for it.
Taking a brisk walk to the Tree, Superious looked up, both confused and impressed that the Human got up there. The Maw were unpredictable and full of surprises. Thomas was no exception to this.
Scar Hounds are nearby, he can sense them. So far the fighting has not yet reached this area. But knowing War, it will not take long before they have to fight their way back down. Nothing that they can’t handle.
Location: The Sanctuary, Netherworld (Current), Akar Kesh (Soon) Equipment: In Sig Writing With: Eina L'lerim-Vandiir
/ Khamul Kryze
(Soon)
Geiseric's mind had been wrought by dark dreams for days now. The loss of Empress Teta weighed heavily on the Ashlan Crusaders. The attack had come so quickly, catching the galaxy off-guard. While there were still those in the ranks of the Crusade who distrusted the Galactic Alliance, no amount of enmity between the two governments could overshadow the need for unity against their common enemy. The Brotherhood was bolder than ever, and once again the Sith were in the Core Worlds.
His premonitions in the night, it seemed, were only getting stronger. He knew he was not the only Jedi seeing such visions in the Force. The plague that was the Bogan threatened to infect them all. In recent days Gei had helped to oversee the raising of the war machine to new heights. Lord Grayson's grand vision for the Jedi Order demanded that much of him. The impending battle would be the one that would either destroy the Jedi forever, or set them free.
Now, as the Crusade marched to Tython, Geiseric took a moment of respite. In the home of his wife, a place that had become a home to him as well, he said his goodbyes. The denizens of the Sanctuary knew they may never see him again.
The frigid air of the place, that had once scorned him, had become something calming. Together the husband and wife donned their armor in silence, for there was no need to speak. Their Dyad in the Force told them everything they needed to know of one another. As he stood from putting on his greaves, he felt the warm embrace of Eina from behind. Words in his native language soothingly parted from her lips. It honored him greatly that she had learned the Essonian tongue, for it kept him connected as well to his people.
"You are always by my side. You could journey to Firefist and never leave my heart. I beg of you, my love, do not fear. There is only courage to be had. I know you do not see yourself as a Jedi, but you have done great services to the Order. No greater service can be given than to defend Tython"
It was the uncompromising, relentless method of prosecuting conflicts that defined House Io, encompassing the idea that half measures or compromises could not be tolerated when faced with an enemy. As a Chaplain, Alessandra preached it—along with 13 other tenets—to her flock. However, more so than any other hostile faction, with the notable exception of the Bryn'adûl, the precept of total war weighed foremost above many of the other tenets when facing the Maw. Against such a genocidal, ruthless enemy with a virtually nonexistent regard for the value of sapient life, both organic and inorganic, no resource could be left untapped, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant.
It went without saying that such an intensive manner of conflict was spiritually and mentally draining on its participants. As such, in addition to preaching the tenets of the family, it was just as important for Alessandra to rejuvenate the spirit, through counseling, therapy, and even administering religious rites for those of her flock who required it.
However, with the incursion of the Maw into the Tython system, Alessandra had been called to fulfill her duties not only as a spiritual advisor, but also as a Bio-Organic HRD optimized for slaying Force Adepts. Caparisoned for war, the Chaplain entered the staging area of the Leviathan of Danuta, accompanied by an escort of her sisters, each clad in a Pulsiva Bodysuit, armed with elemental assault carbines, vibroblades, grenades, and slugthrower pistols. Photoreceptors scanning the area and taking in her arrayed brothers and sisters, Alessandra floated towards the podium overlooking the formations of citizen-soldiers, Nuetralizers, and Sirens, where the Matriarch would soon arrive to address her sons and daughters in advance of the coming battle.
Seeing her brothers and sisters primed and equipped for the coming shatterpoint, Alessandra could not help but to embrace the sense of pride that arose in her chest.
Total war, it would be.
Two Hours Later
A lone drop pod slammed into the earth with a reverberating boom that echoed across the landscape, the hatch falling open upon impact to reveal its sole passenger. The HRD inside was unshaken by the force of the landing, immediately floating out as she scanned the area to ensure that the landing zone was clear for the rest of the invasion force to touch down.
With the exception of the reverberating tack tack of AA fire in the far distance, it was eerily quiet. A calm before a storm.
The nightmares had been growing in frequency, memories of a past life haunted the Jedi Shadow. He had done everything wrong. Katara was dead, his son JJ wanted nothing to do with him. Judah had lost all the things that mattered more than anything in the galaxy, and for what, defending the light? They haunted his sleep constantly, the decisions he could have made differently, or how he could have kept them in his life. It was all for naught, however. Every morning when his eyes opened they were gone, and he was still alone.
All roads led to Tython. It had been the prevailing sense among those following the events of the galaxy. Judah had picked up on the path before the mass communication to the galaxy at large from the leader of the Maw. They were nothing more than a dark side cult which Judah wanted to see wiped from existence. His own morality would allow him the feeling and emotion that came from the sentiment. No other faction had been the cause of so much mass genocide in recent history. They had to be stopped, and they had to be eradicated.
“Soon, my love,” he muttered under his breath. “Soon it will all be over and I can finally join you.”
Why hadn’t he sooner? The moral imperative he held in regards to the light had caused the Jedi to sacrifice everything he wanted. This was no different. Judah had stopped living for himself long ago, and had it not been for a recent friendship with Valery Noble
, Judah would have lost whatever bright spots existed in his life. At least she understood his losses.
She would be here with her husband, that much was certain. Whether their mission objectives would have them cross paths remained to be seen. Judah could not worry about that. He simply sighed as his boots touched the loading ramp of his ship. He had come alone, and if his objective proved successful… well that remained to be seen. If Judah was going to die today it would be wearing the robes his wife had given him.
The force pressed to his legs as he eyed the dark tower. The dark side was strong on the surface, especially as whatever twisted and sadistic things it would accomplish seemed to have an epicenter. Judah would find it.
He stopped, nearing what seemed to be a natural spring. Tython had always amazed the Jedi Master, its beauty often reminding him of the home he had built on Coronet Peak. Something was off here. A presence, darkness. Eyes searched for the source, it was nearby, close. Judah ignited his blade. The sapphire blue light was hungry, eager to cut through whatever evil lurked around the bend.
Judah turned, coming around the ruin and rock of an ancient structure. Without warning and with question he attacked, announcing his intent with a shout.
” Sometimes standing against evil is more important than defeating it. The greatest heroes stand because it is right to do so, not because they believe they will walk away with their lives. Such selfless courage is a victory in itself.”- N.D. Wilson
ABOUT A WEEK AGO
The intel was pointing to it. The rumors. The outright threats. Everything was pointing at the impending attack on the planet Tython. The Brotherhood of the Maw, or Sith Order, or Sith Empire, or whatever shiny new sticker that they are putting on themselves is coming. They are coming and they are not going to stop. They have overwhelming firepower. They have the deadliest of assassins, as well as some of if not the most powerful practitioners of “The Dark Side” and they had an argument that the Sith were on Tython before the Jedi. No, they were both here… and Tython would not fall…
… it would not.
He would speak with Thurion Heavenshield
at another time. This was not the time for it, but the man earned his respect over time and his decision would be honored as well. He earned his time away, and so has any who have given so much to a galaxy that has given them little in the back. Maybe that was why the big man was actually utilizing the money that he had, making a life for himself, getting married, and so on. Vanagor would not give up what he was doing, he still felt like he had more to give, but the massive Jedi Master was going to start giving himself some of the things he kept himself from so long, the first one being a little happiness. Heavenshield deserved it, why couldn’t he? That will come later though.
He had the battle to prepare for.
While preparations were made elsewhere, Sith who believed that they were unnoticed on the planet were hiding and spying on everyone. The TwiLek inhabited Kalikori Village, a village that had resided on the planet for almost four thousand years and was being evacuated for their own safety. This was going to be the last stand for these people and while many of them wanted to stay, many of them demanded to stay, those who could not stand up would leave. They needed to be championed. They were.
Almost the entire galaxy was standing to defend this planet, so rich in history and so necessary to the survival of the Force itself. There was speculation that no recruitments were made, governments were reaching out to the Galactic Alliance pledging their support, even Imperials to an extent. “Jedi” from those governments were coming as well, some purely for the defense of the planet and to stop an onslaught of Chaos, some to settle old scores and bring Justice to the people of Csilla. Some for both. For once, Jedi from all walks of life were not standing to the side and not distancing themselves, they all were doing the right thing.
While defensive positions and fallback points were being constructed, as well as anti-air and trap on the ground being set in place, other arrangements were being made. Caltin was here as well, Chrysa was here too, sunning by the waterfall, helping with evacuations, whatever she wanted to do, she kept herself busy while he kept himself busy. The big man felt bad as they had not been able to spend much time together lately, what with all going on, but they did where they could and he promised her that they would one way or the other once all was said and done. She did not have to wonder if he would keep it. Caltin kept a nine hundred-year-old promise of finding her again when he went down over Rhen Var trying to come to her aid so long ago.
Now he stood among the ruins of the Forge, the ancient structure to which so many Jedi Knights have a long-held pilgrimage in order to construct a lightsaber, the weapon, the symbol of the Jedi. Caltin was no different, “Conservator” was originally built just up the steps he was standing in front of. These steps no longer looked structurally sound, so the massive Jedi Master did not look to take the chance of ascending them, but that did not mean he could not be here for the task he set out to complete today. His pack off and on the ground, the big man just sat in the Lotus position and opened up the bag setting all of the items on and around him on the ground.
This would not be a complete construction, but a rebuild. It would be an upgrade and something that would be put together in a manner that would be tested and retested while doing so. His time spent would be equivalent to the building of five to six different weapons as they would be equated to different styles that this was capable of becoming. This would be faster and more effective than building from scratch though as he had the skeletal template, ‘Vanguard”. was a redesign of the old model, the aforementioned “upgrade” which would make this weapon more volatile.
“Conservator” is a symbol. A rallying cry for those wanting to rise up but desperate for something to follow. It is the icon for those in need of a cause to champion or at least that is my hope. “Vanguard” will be a warning. A warning to those who believe that their mere appearance will bring terror to others, to drive them to obscurity to never be heard from again.”
The big man was just putting the finishing touches and almost ready to begin testing the weapon out when the Guardian of the Forge came climbing up the rockface. This was the latest in a long lineage of Jurgoran who dwelled in the area and “claimed” this piece of land as their own to watch over. Where they once fought any who walked these paths, time waits for no one and they tend to know who will harm and who will not. By no means are they “tame”, Jurogens are wild beasts, but the big man calmly watched and soon just nodded to the sector of land’s “champion” before it began the descent back into “home” or the cave for a slumber.
Hours turned to days, days of practicing, training, getting a feel for, and making “Vanguard” once again a veritable extension of himself. “Conservator” was still his primary weapon, but this was going to be his “emergency”, his “last resort” and not in a fearful way. These days were not all spent training and practicing, the newly married couple had a “second honeymoon” and took advantage of it, so to speak. It was time well spent that no one reading this will get any more details of than that wink. They were packing up the ship for her to go (Chrysa may be a redeemed “Sith Lordess”, but she is still VERY proficient in the Force and more than capable of holding her own. That does not mean that the big man could live with himself with her in danger, she also took the time to help with last-minute evacuations.)
As she left, there was a small group of Antarian Rangers trying to convince some troops on the ground (“not so”) ready to stand and defend the planet. “Reek Squad” was among them and try as he might, Lieutenant Graff was having a hard time getting these soldiers steeled and ready for the coming battle. It was going to be something that none of them had ever seen or experienced before, they all knew it and none were ready. It was understandable as there was not a living soul prepared for what might come about of this. Anyone who was ready was only kidding themselves. They called him over maybe to try and get some sense to talk into the kids.
The massive Jedi Master though would have nothing of it. No, Caltin did not berate or chastise anyone for expecting him to give some grandiose speech but this was not the time for that sort of thing. No, this was the time for the pure unvarnished truth. The big man did not want to be here, he did not want to fight tooth and nail like this but it was going to have to happen. It was going to have to be this way though. Even more, history existed here than any of them knew; however, it was more than that; it was the feeling that some things were just "meant to be". Tython was meant to remain, even with the help of the Force Caltin could not explain why, it just was. Just like Korriban was meant to remain. This could not happen, what the Brotherhood was trying to do to the contrary, it could simply not happen, no verbal trickery, no flowery eloquence, no, it was just going to be over and done with.
Caltin, to his core, was still a Jedi even if he had his own “unique perspectives” on how to operate, he still believed in the principles of respecting life. That did not mean in any way shape or form that the big man was afraid to fight like (if we are being honest) some Jedi were. He never killed needlessly, but he did kill and held no qualms about doing so if he had no choice. It was all about “choice”, Caltin like any other Jedi gave the enemy the “choice” to act. If they left well enough alone, so would he.
However, as they had shown time and time again, Csilla, Jakku, Coruscant. Cato Neimoidia, Empress Teta, and the Brotherhood of the Maw choose this life. They choose to destroy, not just rule but outright destroy. The Brotherhood could not be reasoned with, diplomacy would not work with them, the Sith see that as “weakness” but they are much worse than Sith. Even with all their faults, despite all their differences, it came down to them, or him...
No, it wouldn't be him.
Those memories gave him pause. They came flooding in, the destruction of Coruscant, all of the memories he had from this day and age as well as memories of his time operating out of the very Temple that he was defending. The aftermath. Seeing so many places he would frequent in his off time, the Jedi whom he had seen fallen there both “now” and “then.” The big man was affected, but it took the focus of a lifetime of discipline to keep from going into a blind rage. The memories of Jakku, all of those innocent lives, not just Jedi, but regular staff who were just slain like bugs. If the massive Jedi Master needed motivation for the conflict that he was about to wrecking ball, or “Caltin” his way into as some might say, he needed no motivation now.
Walking over to those, shaken at the possibility of violent death. Questioning those who would order them to defend a “dead planet” for something as meaningless as the sentiment of a Jedi. The massive Jedi Master walked around those anxious that these would be the last days of their lives and they knew it deep down. They were rattled, all of them. Understandably, but self-defeating, they needed to overcome their fears, their anxieties needed to be overridden. They needed to know that it was okay to be afraid, but it was not okay to let that fear control their actions. To not ignore how they feel, but to let it find and motivate them.
Believe it or not, fear can be a good thing.
What is coming will not let you walk away if you are here. They will not simply leave you alone if you beg for mercy. They will laugh as they watch you take your dying breath. If you choose to leave, it’s alright, do so, no one will judge you. Your life was already forfeit to them the moment you were born. They will slaughter you simply because you do not follow them blindly. They will slaughter you if you let them.
Those words did not help. They were not meant to. They were meant to shake them to their core. This was not some simple holding action, or policing maneuver, if they failed here, the planet would fall. Possibly permanently.
We will not let them, though not in the way want us to stand. I will not stand to slaughter others. I know not what course others take but this is where we fight. We fight not for the liberty of the planet but the liberty of the galaxy. For those who were slaughtered mercilessly on Odessen, for every Jedi, every staff member who lost their lives for @Romi Jade’s Praxeum on Jakku, for all of the lives destroyed on Coruscant. They could not be here to stand up, so I am standing for them. I will fight for them in every way that they could not. I will fight for those who will die on their feet before living on their knees. This is where we will fight. If they are smart, those we fight will run. If they are not, they will die. It is as simple as that.
A few casual steps and he was away from them all. Where they stood by an overlook, he was by the cave entrance that would take him back towards Kaleth. One of them yelled out a question.
“What if it is just you versus them?”
That stopped him in his tracks. Interestingly enough it was expected.
Then I will take as many of them with me as I can. I am not attempting to convince you into anything or to change your minds. If you want to go, then go. It’s alright, live your life and live it well. I’m not here to judge you, so I won’t. The thing is, I have to be able to look at myself in the mirror, and I can’t do that if I don’t at least try to do something.
Then he pointed to the skies as a fleet dropped out of hyperspace. It was the Brotherhood of the Maw.
Especially now. I’m going to fight. If you stay here, transport will come for you, if you go with me you go to fight. If you don’t fight you’re fine… just ask yourself when this will stop.
[ Lady of the Dark ] <"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
Ingrid not attacks Zach yet, but gives him a second chance to change his mind.
"This is your last chance to change your mind." she told him aloud.
~ I don't care if the Maw destroys this planet and the two moons. We will only win if there are three Nexus less in the galaxy… ~ she continued in a telepathic way.
"But your ruler must die today." and finished her words aloud again.
She really didn’t care about the planet and its fate. Zach needed to know exactly that. The red-haired woman watched as the man pulled out his weapons. She hasn't done the same yet. Ingrid still trusted that the man would have a better insight and decide he would let her do what she needed to do. Under her helmet, she smiled bitterly for a moment when she saw the weapons. They were dreadful weapons against anyone. But not against Ingrid. Those were only an ordinary sword and an axe against the woman; two resistant weapons, nothing more.
"I hope you know they are ineffective against me." she told him as she tilted her head a little.
There was no doubt that she would make the man's weapons in such a way that Zachariel would never be able to use them against her. The red-haired woman trusted the man as much as possible for her, but Ingrid was also paranoid. She left nothing to chance. Especially not her life. The Empress knew Zach was stubborn, so she hadn't walked in the direction of the man yet, because she expected the man to attack her at that moment.
"Be a good boy, drop your weapons and get out of my way!" she said.
She still hadn't pulled out her own weapons, Zach only got a second chance because the woman was enjoying her lover's company too much… however, there will be no third chance.
Nyaeli stepped into the pit, surrounded by enraged Flesh Raiders, bones, and other remains of those who had come here to stop here. Their minds were primitive, but even the simplest souls understood fear — it was a powerful tool that could completely control someone and force them to do things they otherwise would never even consider.
Which is exactly what Nyaeli had done. Through fear and mental torture, she had bent these creatures to her will and turned them into an army of rage and hatred. Her purpose? The destruction of anything she deemed weak.
The Jedi, the Alliance, and their allies.
This is a day of reckoning.
She drew in a deep breath, and through her Attani, she allowed her mind to extend far into the environment. Everywhere, she felt fear, pain, and despair. But also confidence, bravery, and a will to withstand the forces of darkness.
Those feelings could not persist.
Find those who stand in our way, and destroy them all.
The words from her mind were forced into theirs, and without any hesitation, they obeyed her like she was their goddess. Groups formed and with simplistic weapons drawn, the small army of Flesh Raiders began to move, in search of anything and everybody with the intent to annihilate them.
FIGHTER COMPLIMENT: 103rd Tactical Starfighter Wing "Angel of Death Squadron"
CALLSIGNS: Admiral Angellus "Maverick" is and will always be "Angel 1", Captain Rojuh Pouil "Starlight" is "Angel 2" Captain Scoht Pouil "Meteor" is "VOODOO 1". Captain Ewan Isaacs "Raider" is "SCAR 1" and in command of the Jackals primarily for both ships. Each Squadron leader makes up the remaining "Angel" callsigns, their individual squadrons and make-ups are named below.
FIGHTER COMPLIMENT: "VOODOO WING"
CALLSIGNS: Admiral Angellus "Maverick" is and will always be "Angel 1", Captain Rojuh Pouil "Starlight" is "Angel 2" Captain Scoht Pouil "Meteor" is "VOODOO 1". Captain Ewan Isaacs "Raider" is "SCAR 1" and in command of the Jackals primarily for both ships. Each Squadron leader makes up the remaining "Angel" callsigns, their individual squadrons and make-ups are named below.
TRANSPORT COMPLIMENT: "ARES WING"
CALLSIGNS: Admiral Angellus "Maverick" is and will always be "Angel 1", Captain Rojuh Pouil "Starlight" is "Angel 2" Captain Scoht Pouil "Meteor" is "VOODOO 1". Captain Ewan Isaacs "Raider" is "SCAR 1" and in command of the Jackals primarily for both ships. Each Squadron leader makes up the remaining "Angel" callsigns, their individual squadrons and make-ups are named below.
SPACIAL COMBAT AND RENDITION - SCARs use the Jackal Fighter for its balance of speed and maneuverability as well as its remote capabilities. This allows the elite pilot/operators to"bail" and operate in zero-G often a tactic in boarding capital ships.
SECTOR: Tython
ORDERS: Defend the planet and sector at all costs.
WINGMATES: Coalition Forces/Open
It had been some time since Admiral Angellus had been involved in heavy action. He wasn’t looking for a fight, make no mistake, but his carrier group was on border patrol as well as policing actions against various pirate clans. In between that, training missions and Academy commencements were the norms for now. It was not the life that he expected having no real information to go on other than historical reports but it was nice to carry on the family tradition. His group was not in the normal sector that he was assigned to though, not at the moment. All was fine as it was cleared through Central Command, but needless to say, they were waiting for a fight.
An ambush really.
The long guns of the Ethereal, the heavy guns of the Silver City, they were lined up and waiting for what was coming. The last two times there were actions like this, the fleet was in a reactionary stance with his battlegroup more of a “Quick Response Force”. This time was different, Intelligence had solid information on an impending attack on a high-value target. This was confirmed by a Jedi Master who Liram knew personally, we won’t get into that, that is for another time. The important thing was that this time the target would be defended.
This time they would be ready.
Colonel Telaskta already had her Marines deploying down to the planet with everything that they had. This would not be a fight for the weary and she would not be one to hold back either. She thought that the Jedi were just a bunch of ridiculous monks, but she also understood the history of the planet and what it meant to them. If it meant something to them, it meant something to her and if it meant something to her, it meant something to each and every single jarhead under her command. She was that type of leader.
All fighters were launched and they were over the Southern Pole, the natural magnetic field would wreak havoc on sensors. This combined with the stealth and jamming systems on board, it would be a good bet that all three carriers were in good shape. The problem that they have to contend with is the fact that the same sensors that are helping them are hindering them as well.
The bridge of ” The Celestial City” was bustling with activity, just like ” The Silver City” and ” The Ethereal” but they were all running efficiently. That was what Angellus wanted, and what he instilled in his Lieutenants, and thus they instilled it in theirs. Fighters were slowly launching, running overlapping tight patrols so as not to draw attention as they prepared. For the first time in his life, Liram was scared, who wouldn’t be after all. This was the fight of their lives. It was very likely that not one of them came back from this, and even if they did, would Tython survive? Would any of it be worth the effort?
Yes, all of it.
Great moments are born from great opportunities, and that's what they have here today, all of them. They have the opportunity to draw a thick ditch in the proverbial sand, the opportunity to show the galaxy the Brotherhood CAN be stopped, that they CAN be pushed back. This coalition of combined forces has the opportunity here to show the galaxy that they can live their lives without doing it in hiding. That they can go out at night and not fear what might drop out of hyperspace overhead. These forces had the opportunity to show the galaxy that they would not give in, that they would not falter or fall. This coalition had the opportunity to show the galaxy that they could live in peace. This was their opportunity. This was their moment. This was their time.
That's what you've earned here, right now.
One battle. If this coalition fought the Brotherhood of the Maw on ten other occasions, it was very possible that the Sith would win nine of them, they might win nine battles. Not this battle though. Not today. Today the coalition would meet them ship to ship, fighter to fighter. They would meet and match their tactic for tactic and gun for gun. Today the coalition would fight for their lives, not for their welfare, but the welfare of the entire galaxy for if they fail here, they will fail elsewhere. That was unacceptable. He did not want to die and knew that none of those under his command did not either. He needed inspiration so he looked up some of the information about his ancestors, some of the tactics that they used, something he could learn from.
What he learned did not just surprise him, it shocked Liram to his core. Arestul, former Admiral some nine hundred years ago, Liram was a direct descendent of this man. Arestul and his command went through this as well, and he was actually giving them a speech preparing for battle. He was telling them the same thing, the same notions, the same thoughts and beliefs that he himself was using to psyche himself up. Arestul had gone through this before, and it was his very first mission in a new rank and position. He was in over his head but he did this. He spoke to them, he spoke words of encouragement and it all worked. They were successful. All followed his lead and allowed themselves to accept what he was doing, to accept what they all were doing.
It inspired him too.
Today they were going to stay with the Brotherhood fleet, they were going to fight these monsters and the coalition was going to shut them down because they could. In doing so the coalition was going to show the galaxy that they were not going to just scurry away, that they would not go quietly to sleep never to wake up. Today was going to be their[/I[ day, it was going to be [I[their victory. It was going to be the Brotherhood’s annihilation.
It was their opportunity
It was their time.
Today, they were the greatest collection of warriors the galaxy had ever seen, them and the Jedi. Today, the Brotherhood of the Maw stepped into the den of the Krayt Dragon, and the coalition was hungry. Today the coalition forces were the immovable object, but the Brotherhood of the Maw were not an unstoppable force. Each and every individual under Liram’s command, under the entire coalition. They were born to be here, every moment in their life has led them to this moment, they were ready and they were going to win the day because they could.
This was the coalition’s time.
The Brotherhood’s time was over, it was done. The thought of them just irritated the Admiral now. He was tired of this, of all of their advances, if he could have been in the Empress Teta system, he would have been, but that was the past, it was over, as over as they are. They could have been stopped then, they would[/I[ be stopped today. Screw the Brotherhood. Screw’em. He was done thinking about them. Their time of invincibility was over. They had their opportunity. This was the coalition’s[/I[ opportunity. It was their time.
They were going to take it.
Punching a button on his desk, he hit the comm-link.
Commo, patch me through to our ships.
“Aye, sir.” A moment later. “Clear to speak.”
” This is Admiral Angellus… great moments…”
Might as well continue the tradition…
All three carriers of Nirvana Battlegroup lie in wait on the opposite side of the planet (Like the Empire did with Endor)
All fighters launched except bombers (Layouts for each ship op top of page spoilers)
Defense satellites are ready to be launched when ships move into attack positions.
Marines deploying to planet in full (make-ups for Marines in top of page spoilers)
The Silver Jedi backing fleet of a somewhat motley crew in Mando ships. The bulk were there to keep watch on the Defender as she held position in her first mission. True to the name, the defensive operation. The goal was to protect Typhon from the Maw, and there was no way that various crews were just going to let these monsters completely blister a world. And a similar event was racing through Vaux's mind as she flew the Tal'galaar with her squadron. Hammerfall. That's what this reminded the Mandalorain pilot of. Except this time there wasn't some poorly explained weapon in their own formation that could take many of her friends…. No. This time they knew what was brought in. What could be done. Her thoughts were soon broken up by comms chatter.
"CT, we're almost at the end of our patrol flight, should we head in?" She looked down, taking a breath. Something didn't feel right. The patrol route wasn't long and they had plenty of fuel. Plus she had a bad feeling.
"No. We're going to stay out for longer. I'll tell the Kad and hope Defender's commander isn't too annoyed."
"Roger that. Reek out." Vaux would quickly patch into the Keros' Kad, sighing as she did.
"Hey Kaddie. We're staying out for another patrol run. Tell them to go ahead and launch the others though. Got a feeling. Be ready." The A.I. would just nod, appearing to the star destroyer's captain.
"Sir, Talyc Squadron is staying out for another patrol."
"Of course they are. She may be Mig's sister, but I'm about ready to force her to come in next time she tries. I get it though." Kaddie was a tad confused, but just nodded.
"Should I let Admiral Arcus now."
"Yeah. Let her know. Have to admit I'm a bit worried…."
"This is Galadon! We're picking up something on long range!" The captain looked over at the A.I.
"Kaddie! General quarter!" The A.I. would just vanish from the holo-display before an alarm could be heard. In the meantime, Valo quickly contacted Defender. "I'm guessing you heard it right?" A Silver Fleet Admiral would soon appear on the display with her hair pulled.
"Of course I did Mando. You know the mission, and this is meant for all of you. Protect the planet. Got it?"
"Oya, ma'am." The Admiral sighed a little. She'd never get Mandalorians. "Kranak. Tell all batteries to be ready." The Defender's A.I. would appear, looking like a male Twi'lek.
"As you wish, Admiral." She then grabbed the ship's intercomm.
"General quarters! General quarters! All hands man your battle stations, and all pilots get in the black!"
Meanwhile in space, Vaux would get the call going throughout so many fleets out there. She gripped the control, opening her s-foils. Any fighters not already launched were starting to stream out of their respective ships, and the Shields' launched their Scarab droids. This was it. Time to fight, and time to show the Maw what they couldn't do.
"All squadrons this is CT, watch the hail and be ready for the buurenaar (storm)."
He was no friend to the Jedi, nor to the soldiers that surrounded him. He was a Mandalorian, one sent to aid them in their defense and allow for all the common notions of that kind to become real. He bristled with a dozen different armaments, tools, and his defense was unrivalled; matched in his offence. For all those soldiers had known, this Mandalorian was some clanless man to be referred to as none other than a Mandalorian, and none so much as dared to reconsider the offer or even bother to learn his name. The Mandalorian sufficed, coated in armour that resembled the ash of a thousand worlds and the moonless skies. His armour made mention of Justice in their colours, but it was all in a bid to remain concealed as he embarked on his mission. If a hail of bolts from both sides were to find him, the task became all the more troublesome. It was no small feat as it iwas, and whether Fett remarked it was to earn the trust of the Enclave in order to retain his freedom from others... there was some fraction of himself that held such desire in his intended outcome.
In a flash, he witnessed a storm of blaster fire and detonations coat the hillside in flames and death as much as the screams of the damned. His twin blasters ran hot, their smoke-filled barrels fired out in crimson and cobalt bolts of their own into the now lifeless bodies of his foes. Sith and soldier alike, none were able to match him now, not amidst all that focus and determination. The Kainate fell to Fett in droves even as the common soldier lost their life to the Sith soldier, and as the Mandalorian mounted a stone and sent forth another hail of fire, a saber wielder tried his luck to be met with flames. It was with a roar that the flames soared in their arc, almost wet in their movements as it stuck to the armour and cloth of Sith and soldier, their screams to continue until the shock claimed them and their bodies burned to molten ash.
His T-visor swivelled across to see the Dark Lord on the advance, a brutal assault of his own carved into these lines. He seemed different from the other side, a beast of a man, a mountain even; unrivalled in his desire for violence and in the art of death itself. If Fett was a lesser man, there was the time to reconsider and flee, but either too bold or stubborn the Mandalorian continued on. It was the blasters in his hands, the blades in his vambrace, the flames and rockets mounted on his wrist, and darts in his knee that the cut his own route towards the Sith Lord.
The Force had not been his friend, either. His echo in it familiar to the Sith Lord, and in that it had betrayed him. No matter the effort to remain hidden, the Force uncovered him the second he fell into the vision of Carnifex.
The Mongrel
