Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Annihilation Shatterpoint | BotM Annihilation of GA Held Tython

Kaleth Temple Outskirts, Tython
Tags: Vector Monk Vector Monk

Nimdok hardly reacted to the glove thrown at his cheek, the violent gesture having failed to wipe the mild smile from his impish features. He was surprised and confused by the man’s announcement that he was Nimdok’s “greatest academic rival”, but also a bit amused by the fellow’s effete mannerisms.

I’m afraid I still can’t put a name to your face, sir,” he said with the utmost politeness. “But since you’ve already thrown down the gauntlet, and you and I appear to be on opposing sides in this battle,” He nodded to the Final Dawn troops. “I suppose I must accept your challenge.

Will it be pistols, swords, or fists?
 

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Marlon Sularen Marlon Sularen will be editing out all attacks against the fleet under the command of Aximand within his previous post, as there was a double-posting issue that will soon be rectified (thanks for your help in resolving this btw bro). This post will not feature any after effects of those actions as a result of these impending revisions. Thank you!

(Deployed/Destroyed/Total)
  • Lancer Fighters: 400/0/1,200
  • Haxor Interceptors: 80/0/264
  • Hornet Bombers: 100/0/400




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Objective: 2 - End of an Era
Location: Tython Orbit
Tags: NIO - Albrecht F. Herlock Albrecht F. Herlock | VADM Tarsa Doon VADM Tarsa Doon | Caoimhe Crannach Caoimhe Crannach | Caarlyle Rausgeber Caarlyle Rausgeber

Brotherhood of the Maw: Tu'teggacha Tu'teggacha | Aldo Garrick Aldo Garrick | Derix Tirall Derix Tirall | Akûz the Ravager Akûz the Ravager | Marlon Sularen Marlon Sularen

Accord/Allied Forces: Artemis Toth Artemis Toth | Mith'akis'ormo Mith'akis'ormo | Mylo Thorne | Tren Chaar Tren Chaar | Vaux Gred Vaux Gred | Balt Vizsla | Romul Saxon Romul Saxon | Vemric Keldra | Maple Harte Maple Harte | Verin Oldo Verin Oldo

Aximand had to hand it to the forces of House Io - their dogged attack against Wraith Squadron was admirable. Ever since Aximand’s ordeal wherein he was almost captured by the Eclipse Rebellion, his stance on the enigmatic house had improved immensely. He still did not truly trust them, but he owed them his life.

The battle unfolded around him, with the Mawite forces so seemingly overmatched, something didn’t quite feel right. As his thoughts began to wander to that end, his tactical officer’s voice broke his concentration:


”Admiral, we have a firing solution on the Avatar of War with our proton beam cannon.”

”Open Fire.” Aximand ordered with firm resolve. A high-pitched whine permeated the surrounding decks of the massive cannon, the overwhelming levels of energy rising to a crescendo.

Then, the cannon fired.

A massive beam of energy surged through the void toward the
Mawite superweapon, aimed for the fore-section of the hulking construct. As the Ragnarök’s main armament fired, its secondary armaments continued their assault upon the forward-deployed ships of the main front shared between Strike Force Bogan and Task Force Solipsis, along with the firepower of its remaining ships.

It was only after their collective firepower had been fully committed that the Mawite reinforcements had arrived. It would appear as though the majority of the Mawite forces were focused elsewhere, namely the Enclave; thus allowing the Eternal Fleet to continue its bombardment upon the forces before her. Sularen may well have thought himself clever for springing this trap, but he had severely underestimated the firepower of the Eternal Fleet.
”Continue the assault on both battlegroups. Signal to the Enclave fleet, and inform them we have fighter wings at the ready to lend them support.”

He uttered that last bit with mild contempt, but to the comms officer’s credit, he carried out his duty anyway. Salvos of high-intensity energy continued bombarding the Mawite lines, with the Eternal Fleet doggedly remaining in position to anchor the allied fleet’s position.

  • The Ragnarök proton beam cannon unleashes upon the Avatar of War
  • The Eternal Fleet continues its bombardment upon Strike Force Bogan and Task Force Solipsis
  • The Eternal Fleet remains in position to anchor the allied position, but sends a transmission to Vemric Keldra that fighter squadrons are at the ready to assist if required.


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He pressed down upon the Mandalorian, blade crackling angrily as both vambraces held fast against it. The Dark Lord's grisly visage reflected in the Mandalorian's visor, distorted by the refraction of light and the myriad of other blurred images that melded together in that small space. The blade slid along the Mandalorian's forearms, black chipping away to reveal the true paint beneath the camouflage. Fett immediately retaliated by launching a whipcord that slipped around both of the Dark Lord's legs and snapped taut in a binding embrace. His other gauntlet belched bright orange flame, engulfing the Dark Lord's midsection in a torrential inferno.

Most of the Dark Lord's armor was designed to be flame-retardant, capable of withstanding extreme temperatures for prolonged periods of time. Those aspects that could bear the brunt of the flames did, those that couldn't burned away to ash with strips of flaming fabric clinging to the tyrant's armor. The sanctified parchment that clung tightly to the Dark Lord's skin likewise began to smolder, the runes glowing angrily as the flames continued to wash over them.

It was as this happened that the Jedi Master started to close the distance, taking the Dark Lord's electrical power head-on and transferring its energy back onto the Dark Lord. Emerald arcs of electricity danced across the Dark Lord's armor in concert with the Mandalorian's flames, the Dark Lord of the Sith at the center of a maelstrom of converging elements that to an outsider seemed like a roaring tsunami of chaos. It lasted for only a few seconds, but those seconds seemed to stretch longer than they should have. Then the Dark Lord breathed out, and a pulse of pressurized air burst out from around the Dark Lord's body. The Mandalorian's fire ignited the air burst, turning the sudden gale wind into an explosive combustion.

At its center was the Dark Lord, silhouetted against the apocalypse as it consumed Tython. Fire still clung to His body in places, only adding to the fearsome visage. Without hesitation, He closed the distance again, rushing forward with the strength of the Dark Side rushing through Him. Violence embodied Him, no words passing His lips other than an involuntary snarl of blood thirst. Despite the long stretch of time since their last encounter, it would have been evident to Master Korr that the Dark Lord had not lost any of His potency since the war against the One Sith. In fact, He had only grown more powerful.

But how far that strength went was another matter.



 

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DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
Akar Kesh, Tython
Jem Fossk Jem Fossk | Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze | Corin Trenor Corin Trenor
Soon: Rurik Fel Rurik Fel | Ryv Ryv


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The Dark Heiress placed her cold hand within her father’s own, joining him at the center of the ritual.

"The Will of the Force is not so easily usurped. Your Jedi friends see to it that I fail, that all our efforts are left in vain.”

A devious smile spread across his lips, even as his forehead scrunched and face reeled in from the immense effort. His face still carried with it a wave of dark grimace and even more insidious aura.

“Join me, close your eyes and open your mind. Alone we are but insignificant motes of dust lost to the great void.. but together.. we can move mountains.”

His eyes lifted once more to the sky, black orbs entirely covered in midnight shadow. Storm clouds formed overhead, twisting and turning around the ritual site. The Dark Lord called out to his faithful, the cultists of the Church and the retinue protecting Akar Kesh.

Châchwayat hadzuska kûsk sutta chwituskak! Châchwayat hadzuska kûsk sutta chwituskak!! Hâsk jiaasen! Hâsk jiaasen!!”

“Hâsk jiaasen!!”

Those words resounded across the battlefield to all his faithful, his voice bellowing in a fateful roar.

“Hâsk jiaasen!!!”

Blood called to blood, a sacrifice must be made. His faithful across the surface of Tython knew what they must do. With each sigil of blood taken from their very bodies, a pact was made. Integrating themselves into the shadow of the Sith’ari, their deaths would free them. Their deaths would break their chains and help power this great work.

The Tho Yor screamed a mighty call once more, sounding off the Horn of Hell over and over. Glowing, rotating, the storm picked up speed around them.

BRRRRRRGUUUUUUUUUHHHHH!


"Agh."

The calming influence of the Je’daii helped maintain the status quo on Tython, yet the surge of power and sheer imbalance in the Force could not be held back forever. A might Force Storm began to take root above them, the earth shook and the heavens roared.

His anger soared, the sheer momentum of his presence intensifying as he felt the passing of his Shadow Hand, his right hand Darth Caelitus. Dead. Halketh Halketh set free, and..

“Fel.”

The Dark Lord of the Sith shook his head violently and turned, pulling away his attention from the ritual as the sulfuric yellow in his hateful orbs returned, peaking out to witness the arrival of one Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze . He could almost smell the self-righteousness reek from him as he approached.

Your reign of terror ends here, Solipsis.“

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He bellowed venomously.

Stepping away towards his opponent with hateful rage seeping from his very aura.

“I’ll enjoy killing you.”




 
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Objective 1/3
Tags: Ingrid L'lerim Ingrid L'lerim | Judah Lesan Judah Lesan | Damsy Callat Damsy Callat | Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis
Duel: CLOSED
Warpost: Anyone else warposting and attacking Akar Kesh, if you wish to join the fight, feel free to! Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!
Links: Weapons | Chosen | Some vehicles and other stuff​


Laughing darkly at those words, the warlord shakes his head once more.
"No, dear Ingrid. You think he's less than he is. Tell me, who else could have organized us? Who in all the galaxy could have brought about such a change?"

He gave her a moment to think, to realize what he said to be true.
"No one! Oh, there have been great leaders, those who brought about much change. But none have ever united the entire galaxy against them, none have wrought so much destruction so quickly. Others have been reviled, hated and thrown down. But they have had allies, become strong over the course of many, many decades. We have nothing and no one but the Avatars and ourselves! Our rise to fame and power happened far faster than any could predict, than any could slow. And that will bring about the change this galaxy so desperately needs, change the Avatars will bring."

She thought him lesser for attributing such power to Solipsis. He knew otherwise, the same way he knew the power of the Avatars. In his millennia of life, he had seen much, experienced more. Zachariel had seen powerful figures rise and fall, fought for and against them, watching them succeed and fail in equal measure. But their changes had been slow, easily removed, and far too reliant on just one aspect of the galaxy. The Brotherhood was not so limited, their changes evident for centuries to come. No one would forget them, no one.
"You believe he does not hold such power, you haven't seen what he is capable of. Nor have you seen the powers that aid him. All you see is falsehoods and lies, I tell you nothing but the truth. When this ritual succeed, the galaxy will be changed. And we will ensure it succeeds, no matter the cost."

The cost of this battle would be high, the slog here had been higher. But it had been a cost they had willingly paid. Staring down at Ingrid, he sneers. She wants to change the galaxy but won't pay the price for it, so she must be dragged into the reality, or left behind. He had thought she may change, see the truth. But considering her disbelief even now, he wondered if that would actually happen. Time would tell, but he began to doubt her then, doubted she would truly follow through.

Twirling his blades at her words, he simply continues to glare at her. If she didn't follow through, then what use would she be in the long run. Spinning about to slice behind himself as she teleported, he pushed those thoughts aside. Most likely, those answers would not be had today, so he focused on stopping her advance towards Solipsis. Teleporting before her, he strikes once more, only for her to block his strikes. Pushing in, he snarls at her, lenses glowing a dark crimson in echo of his anger.

This anger is broken as she suddenly strikes. He had expected her to attack as well, so at her strike he blocks the usual points she has struck. Except now, her blade sneaks past his guard and instead strikes a trophy of his. In doing so, she strikes one of the skulls near his waist, cracking it with the force of her blow. No easy task mind you, as these trophies are from Zachariel's most valued foes, those who had proven him a challenge, or been worthy in some form. During and after battle, Zachariel took skulls to add to his throne, those who were the most worthy instead joined his armor. Forever immortalized as a worthy foe in his eyes. Reinforced to endure the punishment his own armor would face, some of these skulls had been with the warlord for centuries.

And now Ingrid had cracked one, striking his most prized possessions. Her change in tactics pushed Zachariel to the back foot, unused to have to defend himself so. As such, some of her strikes struck true, sneaking past his guard to damage his trophies. More cracks appear, raising Zachariel's ire and anger, bringing it back in a way it hadn't been in many, many years. Then she spoke once more, slipping through once more, and smashing the first skull to pieces.

In that moment, for one eternal millisecond, Zachariel's mind froze. As the shattered pieces slowly clattered to the ground, the world slowed and then froze to the warlord. His thoughts traveled back one and a half centuries ago. He had been hunting a bounty hunter, the best of the time. Certainly one of the best Zachariel had ever seen. But he was used to hunting, not being hunted. And yet, he had given Zachariel a hunt to remember, to cherish. A hunt of cloaks and daggers, played across entire solar systems, and finally ending in a fight that had leveled three city blocks. The hunter had earned a place on Zachariel's armor. And now the skull was gone, shattered into pieces in a way that not even vehicle fire could have managed.

Then time continued and their blades locked, with him glancing down towards the pieces finally hitting the ground. No more than a second had passed, but as the warlord focused on Ingrid, it felt as if a century had gone by. Lenses suddenly flaring into a blinding glare, his crimson gaze locked onto Ingrid as he responded.
"You. Don't."

With a sudden roar, Zachariel struck back. Hate filled his every swing, rage made them faster, and pure, unfettered bloodlust, drove him on. In an instant, he transformed into a whirlwind of death and destruction, striking out and blocking at blinding speeds. And as he fought, the crimson glare of his lenses and the eyes beneath never left Ingrid, as he pushed, his growl echoed forth, vocalizing a fraction of the rage he felt.


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Others were not for rage driven as Zachariel, in fact, quite the opposite. Once, the Bloodsworn had been a horde of cultists lead by marauders. They had their beliefs in the Avatars to give them strength. Unacceptable losses had forced them to change, with new orders from Zachariel himself to adapt and overcome. To that end, they had become a true military organization. Slaves soldiers taken from other forces were put to good use, training devised to beat the cultists and marauders into shape were set up. And an army was formed out of a horde.

They were an army that would be able to match most militaries in unconventional ways. Better adaptability, more diversity, and utter fearlessness in completing their Avatars given task. Unfortunately, the enemy they faced this day were hardly most militaries. Force users were hardly normal and every day combatants, but this was Tython, so perhaps they should be considered normal here. But no matter how 'normal' it was to see Force users on a battlefield, most were ill equipped to handle them. The Bloodsworn were no different, those forces facing off against Judah and Damsy were no different.

So, as these two figures rushed towards their lines, they did as they had against all other foes. They opened fire. Blaster bolts and slugs tore through the air. However, what they would have needed to do was use explosives to even slow them down. This fact was proven by the fog suddenly hiding one of the attackers, and obscuring more of the battlefield. Shouts and curses were to be heard, even as others grew quite, trying to hear out their targets. Then a cry came out from a squad leader.
"Thermals, get thermals on!"

Several with thermals began searching for their targets, but screams drew attention elsewhere. Eyes and weapons snapped towards Judahs direction once more, even as cries of alarm spread. The Jedi had moved far past where it was expected. Further, the screams of pain and cries to the Avatars had ended as soon as they started, drawing curses from those who knew what that meant. Another squad or two dead, another foe further towards Akar Kesh than expected.

"Fething fools, open fire!"
Came the sudden and roared command from a Chosen. Standing further up the way, she stood on an outcropping, yelling down for all the Bloodsworn in this area to hear her. Chosen Maeve, bedecked in chosen armor so very reminiscent of Zachariel's armor, and bearing weapons fit for one of her rank. A repeating blaster and a heavy power hammer. She stood as a testament to what a lowly marauder could become. Bearing numerous skulls and trophies, she was the picturesque image of one of the Chosen.

"Kill these dogs, slaughter them as you have all others who stood against us!"
She was in charge here, and continued barking orders down to the squads under her command. Most of those orders were lost to the din of combat, seeing as she barked them into a comms unit. Still, the effects could be seen. Squads shifted fire and position, vehicles rumbled about and fired off. Occasional charges went out, taking back land taken, or exacting a costly toll before falling back. On and on it went, with her continuing on.

Occasionally she raised her voice once more, calling out to the leadership of the attackers. Taunts were thrown, challenges given, and dares to come closer were made. Where most of the Bloodsworn were ill equipped to handle Force users, the Chosen were well trained for such things. Maeve even moreso, having received even more rigorous training at the hands of Zachariel. All Chosen were hand picked and hand trained by the warlord, but those who showed more promise were elevated even further.

"Come you faithless curs, face me and die! You shall not pass us, only die at our hands! For the Avatars, for the Bloodsworn, for the Blood God!"
"For the Blood God!"

Challenges and rallying cries went out, often echoed by those beneath her. They shifted to her orders, rallied to her cries, and fought on under her gaze. She represented the will of their lord and master, and the will of the Avatars. Squads died, and more shifted forward. Even now, some squads rushed towards Judah and Damsy. They would hold them off, even though it'd cost them their lives. On and on they poured, cries to the Avatars and their god on their lips.

Then came a signal, a cry from the Dark Voice himself. For one long, eternal moment, there was a calm as that voice echoed.

"Hâsk jiaasen!!!"

That calm was ruined a second later, as the cry was taken up, echoed and repeated. Louder and louder, even as all the cultists, marauders, and others present set about their holy task for but a few seconds. Palms were cut and symbols drawn, blood runes of ur-Kittat were made across foreheads and bodies. Even as the cry went ever louder, even as they charged forth once more, intent in every step.
"Hâsk jiaasen!!!"
"Hâsk jiaasen!!!"
"Hâsk jiaasen!!!"

The holy symbol of ur-Kittat now adorned the bodies of the faithful. From the lowest cultist slave, to the highest Chosen, they all now bore that symbol. Maeve herself had the symbol on her forehead, even as she opened a comm line to the Bloodsworn. Her voice was a reflection of the cruel evil that had come before.

"In blood, we are born. In blood, we are sanctified. With blood we swear our oaths. With blood we sanctify our vows. In the name of the Dark Voice, in the name of the Avatars, for the Blood God! Hâsk jiaasen! Hâsk jiaasen! Hâsk jiaasen!"


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Running his hand along Zev's sheets to smooth out any evidence of foul play, Tristram proudly admired his handiwork as GB-83, a black and gold BB-series astromech, looked up at him inquisitively.

"You know, there's something beautiful about the simplicity of a good, old fashioned short-sheet."

The droid replied with a surprisingly judgy series of beeps and whirring noises.

"Hey! I'll prepare for a mission my way, and you can prepare yours."

GB chirped indignantly and rolled up to the bunk, tucking in a bit of the sheet that Tris had overlooked.

"That's my boy."

No sooner had he spoken than klaxons began to shriek throughout the ship.

"Attention all flight personnel, battlestations, battlestations, report to your commanders immediately."

Tristram and GB looked at each other for the briefest moment before barreling out of the room and down the corridor toward the hangar.

"Get to the ship and start the pre-flight! I'm right behind you!"

As the droid rolled ahead, Tris tugged at the knotted sleeves of his flight suit tied around his waist, somehow managing to shrug it on the rest of the way at a dead sprint without falling over himself. The heavy sound of his own boots thudding against the floor was drowned out by a hundred more as he approached the hangar. He skirted past the other pilots and deck hands, nearly crashing full speed into a GNK droid. GB whirred from the starfighter's droid socket as he finally reached his A-Wing, and a Rodian deck worker tossed him his helmet while a Gran helped him with his flak jacket and life support. Fully suited, he clambered into his cockpit and slid the canopy shut. A quick glance at the instrument panel showed all systems green. Around him, the rest of Revenant Squadron was similarly preparing to launch, with some already in the exit pattern. Tristram taxied into position. All he needed was the go-ahead from Control...

"You're clear for takeoff, Revenant Twelve. Good hunting."

Tris throttled out of the hangar and into the black a bit more aggressively than regulations dictated. They could yell at him when he got back.

If he got back.

Even with all the briefings, all the intel they had been given, nothing could have prepared him for the sheer scope of the conflict he found himself hurtling toward. He'd been involved in his fair share of skirmishes, and a fair few fleet battles. This was war. He made a mental note to be terrified later. Right now, he had a job to do. They all did. He formed up on Zev's wing and held the pattern with the rest of his flight.

"Revenant Twelve, standing by."

Commander Chaar's orders crackled over the comms. Heading straight for a Brotherhood Star Destroyer? Go big or go home, I guess.

"Setting course to three-one-cresh. Target at two point seven klicks and closing."
 
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Objective: Kill Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis
Direct Engagement: Alexa Alexa

Kimiko finally made it to the summit of the low mountain, spotting the Temple the dark ritual was centered. Her feet swiftly brought her within sight of Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis , and after catching her breath, ignited Tsuriai and leapt at the center of all the problems currently taking place...

45 minutes earlier...

"Lieutenant Inami, anata wa baka o kuso!" the Empress swore at the young lieutenant in Akaran as she rapidly deflected several bolts of blaster fire,"I will ask you one more time, WHERE ARE WE?"

Ever since arriving in the Tython system, nothing had gone right for the Sakuran expedition. They had been scheduled to group up with Rex Valhoun Rex Valhoun and the Elysium fleet for their insertion to the south of the battlefield and keep the Jedi's flank from being overrun.

Simple enough right?

No, not at all.

The Maw forces had swarmed and scattered the Sakuran battle group, and the landing forces had been forced to separate from the main group in order to safely make landfall. Which was more akin to a crash landing. But what made the whole situation even worse, was heir location.

The landing party, which included the Empress herself, fifty of her best Imperial Knights, two platoons of Imperial commandos, and a reinforced regiment of her own Marines, had smashed into the planet just south of the Flooded Plains and directly in the path of the main enemy forces as they advanced towards the Jedi temple.

"Your Grace, the Force storms are causing severe interference with the navigation equipment. I cannot make heads from tails on this map ei-" Ki cut her off forcefully as she brought one of her white blades down through an abomination's chest,"I don't want your excuses Lieutenant! Figure it out NOW!"

Poor officers...

Kimiko quickly stood and took a moment to take in their surroundings. She saw the downed destroyer and did a 180 turn. If her memory served her correctly, they were north of the Temple of Balance. Where the ritual was taking place.

She quickly called out for her two commanders,"Matsuura, Watanabe!"

Kanan Matsuura had just finished unloading a full clip into a Sith soldier's chest, covered in blood and dirt.

You Watanabe was engaged in a fierce fist fight with an apparent acolyte. Ki watched as she grabbed their wrists, twisting them to the side and grabbing her shoulder mounted vibroknife, and plunging it in the base of the skull.

Both women turned to their caller and watched as she pointed to herself then to the top of the mountain beside them. The two commanders nodded and watched as their Empress leapt from the fray, landing just up the slope, and watched as she began sprinting up the mountain.

"Sakuran Forces! Form up on Commander Watanabe, the Empress needs us!" Kanan bellowed her command to her troops

The Sakuran forces, began pushing towards the temple to assist their Empress, calling out with a renewed battle cry...

"FOR THE EMPRESS!"
 


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SHATTERPOINT
IDENTITY CRISIS FINALE
Issue #1 w/ Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze Jem Fossk Jem Fossk Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis Ryv Ryv


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In the midst of his, Corin had ensured the demise of his share of Sith beside his Master. His own azure blade that mimicked his former one, new after the loss of the last, had cleaved into villainous foes; midsections torn across and limbs removed, a head even tumbled over the side and out of view between his own laboured breathes. It seemed as if his brow existed to hold onto those beads of sweat until his forearm could remove them, the tendril-like ends of his strands danced across his forehead and left their carried fluids behind.

"Yeah," the Padawan answered in confirmation; "I've no intention to turn back now."

Even in the absence of all the distance the two had covered, his second remained above in that ritual. He lost once, and earned a mean scar for it - the flesh coloured streak across his abdomen had once been the home of a blade, one that entered him and tore out no small amount of blood. She bested him. He refused to allow it now. In those few skirmishes between then and now, the Jedi had bettered himself. But for all the incease in skills, that foolish self-confidence had seen the same.

"Your reign of terror ends here, Solipsis."​

Corin locked onto Jem, a furrowed brow and narrowed stare exuded all that determination across his teen features. It was brazen boldness that had allowed him to be so sure of himself, to be so sure of success, and it carried him somewhere it should never have. Somewhere he should have elected for caution rather than a need to act in the immediate moment.

"I'll enjoy killing you."

He held on no formal stance, it was almost relaxed as he shifted across to the Dark Lord. "You won't have the chance." His swift retort was so full of venom, and so then Corin ran towards the Sith'ari with his lightsaber raised.
 

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TYTHON, SEEING STONE
Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex - Tydeus of Tion Tydeus of Tion


It made for a beautiful storm as the colours fused as one and encased the Sith Lord in a most lethal mix of the elements; no matter the amount of time that Mandalorian and Jedi held the Sith within the centre of it all, Fett remained oh so content to ensure it continued. His assault saw no ease, no cease nor end, for the same bolts that had been able to see the end of one life were harmless to this variant of beast or animal, more demonic than man now. The Force had was lost on Fett, that much was true, other than that it allowed those users of it to transcend their limitations. Inhuman abilities bested Fett then and there, but it was his tech that evened the odds and acted as a counter. In his battles with Jedi and Sith all these times before, the Mandalorian left as the victor. His smarts often carried him in most situations, those of his own design, but here and now in a field on the other end of Darth Carnifex's ire... Fett wondered if there was room to be as sure as he was, no matter the determination in those harsh orbs beneath the black T-visor.

His insistence on his own assault had allowed for the Sith to return a counter and the sudden unseen combustion that detonated in the helmeted face of the Mandalorian sent him backwards some distance. It was fire from his own wrist that had soon encased his own armorued frame, few areas of his defended form remained on fire and soon dwindled as he skittered across the stone. His black coat remained then as his rolls slowed and he motioned to stand with effort.

He breathed a laboured breath beneath the helmet, the modulation had seen it filtered out. It was in a flash that the Mandalorian had risen, either too determined to see a loss or too self-assured in his own skills. Fett raised those twin blasters and sent forth a sudden hail of fast and accurate blaster fire, one blue and the other red, the blue unable to be deflected and to strike with considerable force; the charric mechanisms the one to thank.
 
E T E R N A L - E M P R E S S
Moderator
Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud, Archon of the Primyn Group
Empress of Terraris, Supreme Commander of the Terraris Command, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium
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Objective: Try to assassinate Darth Solipsis
Location: Akar Kesh, Tython
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | The Soulsabers | Heilagr MK. I Assassin Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Writing With: Zachariel Steelblood Zachariel Steelblood
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[ Lady of the Dark ]
<"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>

  • Ingrid successfully infuriates Zach.
  • At the first time under their acquaintance, she shows her true power to him
Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud, Archon of the Primyn Group
Empress of Terraris, Supreme Commander of the Terraris Command, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium
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Objective: Try to assassinate Darth Solipsis
Location: Surface, Tython
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | The Soulsabers | Heilagr MK. I Assassin Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Writing With: Zachariel Steelblood Zachariel Steelblood
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[ 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 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 Baron Reinhardt Ström and Aximand Sicarus 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.

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Objective: Tython Accord
Location: Surface, Naboo
Equipment: Equipment: The Soulsabers (hidden) | Brynja coat | Hersir Imperial Uniform | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Tags: Baron Reinhardt Ström Baron Reinhardt Ström | Aerarii Tithe Aerarii Tithe | Balt Vizsla | Isla Draellix-Kobitana Isla Draellix-Kobitana | Open
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[ 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 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.

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Objective 1/3
Tags: Ingrid L'lerim Ingrid L'lerim | Darth Solipsis 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.


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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!"

And thus, the Bloodsworn fought.

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Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud, Archon of the Primyn Group
Empress of Terraris, Supreme Commander of the Terraris Command, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium
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Objective: Try to assassinate Darth Solipsis
Location: Surface, Tython
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | The Soulsabers | Heilagr MK. I Assassin Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Writing With: Zachariel Steelblood Zachariel Steelblood
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[ 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.

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Objective 1/3
Tags: Ingrid L'lerim Ingrid L'lerim
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

Snorting at her words, he shakes his head again. At her telepathic words, he scoffed. She still didn't understand, then again, the truth was hidden. The Maw wasn't simply here to destroy Tython, but tear the galaxy apart. Reaching out telepathically, he responded.
"Ingrid, one planet and all its moons aren't the goal of the Brotherhood. This ritual, it will destroy more than just Tython, it will split the galaxy in two."

Aloud, he laughed and responded with utter confidence.
"Solipsis will not die this day, and even if he should, it won't be by your hand."

Through this though, he understood what she meant. This world was simply one other to her, the same as it was to him. At the same time, it was the make or break it point for the Brotherhood. Succeed or fail, the success of the ritual would determine it all. And Zachariel would not allow Ingrid to interrupt it. And thus, despite her hopes that he would see reason, he wouldn't see her reason. Twirling them as she spoke of how ineffective they would be against her, he shook his head.

"In the end, they are still sharpened pieces of metal. More than enough with which to remove your head from your shoulders." Smirking, he cocked his head to the side. "Though the powers you imbued into these weapons have certainly come in handy. For that, I thank you."

"Further, one is yours, one is not." Holding the sword up before his helmet, in a salute of sorts, he lowered it and repeated it with the sword. "Which is it?"

Weapons at his side once more, the warlord made no move to lower either blade. She could try all she wanted, but he wouldn't move. She would not pass him this day, that he would make certain of. Twirling them idly by his sides, he still made no further moves. Ingrid expected him to rush her, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction. And so, he fully expected some sneak attack from his lover, so he watched, and waited for her to attack first, making it clear hers was the first move.


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Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud, Archon of the Primyn Group
Empress of Terraris, Supreme Commander of the Terraris Command, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium
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Objective: Try to assassinate Darth Solipsis
Location: Akar Kesh, Tython
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | The Soulsabers | Heilagr MK. I Assassin Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Writing With: Zachariel Steelblood Zachariel Steelblood
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[ Lady of the Dark ]
<"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>

  • Ingrid speaks Zach, and teleports after him, and continues her walking towards the temple.

"Zach, this is not how the Force works… Politically, yes he can divide and split diplomatic and political axes into two. But he can't do more damage to the Force than a local damage." she told him.

Through Zach, she had some idea of what Solipsis wanted. Large-scale plans. Maybe it would have been feasible, but only if all the major Nexus in the galaxy were attacked at once. However, she saw in the man's posture that he finally understood what the woman was thinking. That she wasn't here to protect the planet. This place did not matter to the Eternal Empire. Not really. And the woman would have sacrificed any planet in the galaxy to get the Eternal Empire to achieve its goals and get closer to the final plans of the Wardens of the Shroud.

Unlike her daughter, the Empress of the Eternal Empire was not a Saint. Neither literally nor figuratively.

But like everyone in this galaxy, she had to pretend. Alright, Maw didn't pretend, but everyone else did. No one was as spotlessly clean and good as they had shown themselves to be. There was a common enemy, yes. But nothing more. She or anyone who thought long-term was ready to compromise with others. For bigger plans, for ultimate success, for the well-being of the Empire and its citizens. That was something Ström didn't understand either; the "grumpy uncle" was a great soldier but a terrible politician.

"The NIO has already stolen from me the chance to kill the Emperor of the Sith Empire, you won't steal my chance to kill Solipsis." she told him.

That is, the case still hurt the woman's ego, it would have been the culmination of her assassination career. Actually, maybe it wasn't the NIO, it was Grayson. But it no longer mattered, nearly ten years after the war ended, the present was important. She sighed under her helmet again. She knew Zach knew exactly that it would be smoke if he cut off her head. Because of the Sith, she was not a human being for a very long time ago.

"Are you sure my head is truly my head?" she asked with a chuckle, mockingly, alluding to being a semi-Force entity who typically consists of smoke and transforms.

Ingrid finally took out the two daggers. Not the swords, not the lightsaber with pieces of Adrian's soul, but the two simple military knives. The red-haired woman concentrated for a moment and was no longer there. She hadn't attacked Zachariel yet, just teleported past him. She appeared again behind the man's back, at least a good six to eight metres. She looked back at the man for a moment, then walked on to the temple.

"Behind you, honey!" she said back to the man.

At that moment, she also felt that Eina and Geiseric had arrived on the planet, not so far from her and Zach.

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Objective 1/3
Tags: Ingrid L'lerim Ingrid L'lerim
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​


"Then you understand little of the ritual planned this day."
Cackling laughter came forth from him. Perhaps she was right, perhaps she was wrong. It changed little, she would not pass. No matter that their goals aligned so often, or that she too wished to see the Force destroyed, or at least weakened. Both of them would burn anything to see things through, but she saw the need to kill Solipsis to reach those goals. Zachariel saw the need to keep him, for he was the primary reason the Brotherhood had taken such prominence.

The two of them knew that was their greatest weakness, their fractious nature. It was their true nature, and they didn't hide it. That gave them strength, the challenge to overcome and prove oneself to others. Compared to Ingrid, who even now spoke of her failure to kill another leader of her enemies. Had the true, factitious nature been allowed to be free, she may have succeeded. At the very least, there would have been a higher chance of success. But, because she had to 'play nice,' she couldn't take the EE against the NIO. Not while a greater threat remained. The Brotherhood was not so limited, letting Zachariel grin at his lover, seeing but another point where they were better.

Snorting at her, he shook his head as well.
"Physical or not, the point still remains."

As Ingrid pulls out her weapons, Zachariel stops twirling his own blades, focusing fully on her. He was expecting some surprise attack from her, so as soon as she vanished, he knew she teleported. As such, he whirled around, sword and axe flashing to cut behind him. Only, instead of cutting through flesh or clashing with steel, they cut through nothing. Growling upon seeing her so far away, he knew she didn't plan to fight him, only avoid him. Calling out to her with a scowl, his voice was filled with annoyance.
"Running my dear?"

Then, with an effort of will, he teleported as well. It had been something he'd been practicing for some time now, having seen the need to learn such a skill after being stuck in the Nether before Ingrid rescued him. Now he had learned the skill, after much trial and error, though he was hardly experienced at it. Nor could he go far, but it was enough to get him before Ingrid. And there he appeared, a mere meter before his lover. With a snarl on his lips, he swung his blades at her.
"Not so fast."


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Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud, Archon of the Primyn Group
Empress of Terraris, Supreme Commander of the Terraris Command, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium
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Objective: Try to assassinate Darth Solipsis
Location: Akar Kesh, Tython
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | The Soulsabers | Heilagr MK. I Assassin Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Writing With: Zachariel Steelblood Zachariel Steelblood
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[ Lady of the Dark ]
<"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>

  • Ingrid attacks back and tried to force Zach to make a mistake.

"Or you think he's more than he really is!" she replied without thinking.

Zachariel would not have been the first to attribute too much power to Dark Voice. Essentially, the entire Maw was built on that. She really hoped it wasn't like that, because she knew the man much more intelligently than that. Sure, she knew the man loved chaos, bloodshed, and the gen'dai couldn’t really think with a clear head during a fight, but he could be quite intelligent except for the fight anyway. However, his current words and reactions have destroyed this previously set up picture. To the woman's greatest regret.

Yes, Ingrid really had to play the "good"; though in her eyes there was neither evil nor cruelty in wanting to destroy the Force. It was something in the woman's eyes that would free the galaxy from the chains of the Force. It would finally free all the peoples of the galaxy. But it was quite a double view. On the one hand, she wanted this, and on the other hand, she would not be willing to pay the price to kill half the galaxy for it.

She knew the Netherworld was probably going extinct, but that was another matter. Although she was part of Netherworld, she belonged there much more than Realspace; she would have sacrificed the souls of the dead. Living creatures were a completely different matter, falling into a completely different category. She would have sacrificed herself, but not the innumerable other lives. That’s why the red-haired woman decided she would never join Maw, even if there were common interests. She did not accept the methods of either the Sith or the Maw.

"If I am one with the shadows, how do you want to solve it?" now her voice was mocking a very little.

Before teleporting, she showed him how she is able to melt into the darkness, into the shadows. After all, the Night Spirit transformed her body when she wanted her as a new host. Ingrid was the creature of the night, and now there was darkness in the middle of the Force Storm and all around them. After teleporting, she sensed that Zach was preparing to attack, but she wasn't there. The Empress laughed softly at her usual voice, like when a lover caresses her chosen one.

"I'm walking, honey! I'm walking!" she teases him.

The next moment, the man appeared in front of her and had already attacked. Ingrid lifted the dagger and stopped the blade swinging towards it. They knew each other's fighting skills very well, and of course each other. That's why she was made with something unexpected. She retaliated, however, not to the man, but at the skulls on the armour. The red-haired woman tried to smash one after the other, Zach's trophies. She wanted to anger the man to force a mistake, she was not a soldier against Zach, but an assassin. The vile game was part of the fight.

"If you think I don't understand the purpose of the ritual, tell me I think we have time for this!" she told him as she tried to crush another skull on the armour.

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Objective 1/3
Tags: Ingrid L'lerim Ingrid L'lerim | Judah Lesan Judah Lesan | Damsy Callat Damsy Callat | Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis
Duel: CLOSED
Warpost: Anyone else warposting and attacking Akar Kesh, if you wish to join the fight, feel free to! Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!
Links: Weapons | Chosen | Some vehicles and other stuff​


Laughing darkly at those words, the warlord shakes his head once more.
"No, dear Ingrid. You think he's less than he is. Tell me, who else could have organized us? Who in all the galaxy could have brought about such a change?"

He gave her a moment to think, to realize what he said to be true.
"No one! Oh, there have been great leaders, those who brought about much change. But none have ever united the entire galaxy against them, none have wrought so much destruction so quickly. Others have been reviled, hated and thrown down. But they have had allies, become strong over the course of many, many decades. We have nothing and no one but the Avatars and ourselves! Our rise to fame and power happened far faster than any could predict, than any could slow. And that will bring about the change this galaxy so desperately needs, change the Avatars will bring."

She thought him lesser for attributing such power to Solipsis. He knew otherwise, the same way he knew the power of the Avatars. In his millennia of life, he had seen much, experienced more. Zachariel had seen powerful figures rise and fall, fought for and against them, watching them succeed and fail in equal measure. But their changes had been slow, easily removed, and far too reliant on just one aspect of the galaxy. The Brotherhood was not so limited, their changes evident for centuries to come. No one would forget them, no one.
"You believe he does not hold such power, you haven't seen what he is capable of. Nor have you seen the powers that aid him. All you see is falsehoods and lies, I tell you nothing but the truth. When this ritual succeed, the galaxy will be changed. And we will ensure it succeeds, no matter the cost."

The cost of this battle would be high, the slog here had been higher. But it had been a cost they had willingly paid. Staring down at Ingrid, he sneers. She wants to change the galaxy but won't pay the price for it, so she must be dragged into the reality, or left behind. He had thought she may change, see the truth. But considering her disbelief even now, he wondered if that would actually happen. Time would tell, but he began to doubt her then, doubted she would truly follow through.

Twirling his blades at her words, he simply continues to glare at her. If she didn't follow through, then what use would she be in the long run. Spinning about to slice behind himself as she teleported, he pushed those thoughts aside. Most likely, those answers would not be had today, so he focused on stopping her advance towards Solipsis. Teleporting before her, he strikes once more, only for her to block his strikes. Pushing in, he snarls at her, lenses glowing a dark crimson in echo of his anger.

This anger is broken as she suddenly strikes. He had expected her to attack as well, so at her strike he blocks the usual points she has struck. Except now, her blade sneaks past his guard and instead strikes a trophy of his. In doing so, she strikes one of the skulls near his waist, cracking it with the force of her blow. No easy task mind you, as these trophies are from Zachariel's most valued foes, those who had proven him a challenge, or been worthy in some form. During and after battle, Zachariel took skulls to add to his throne, those who were the most worthy instead joined his armor. Forever immortalized as a worthy foe in his eyes. Reinforced to endure the punishment his own armor would face, some of these skulls had been with the warlord for centuries.

And now Ingrid had cracked one, striking his most prized possessions. Her change in tactics pushed Zachariel to the back foot, unused to have to defend himself so. As such, some of her strikes struck true, sneaking past his guard to damage his trophies. More cracks appear, raising Zachariel's ire and anger, bringing it back in a way it hadn't been in many, many years. Then she spoke once more, slipping through once more, and smashing the first skull to pieces.

In that moment, for one eternal millisecond, Zachariel's mind froze. As the shattered pieces slowly clattered to the ground, the world slowed and then froze to the warlord. His thoughts traveled back one and a half centuries ago. He had been hunting a bounty hunter, the best of the time. Certainly one of the best Zachariel had ever seen. But he was used to hunting, not being hunted. And yet, he had given Zachariel a hunt to remember, to cherish. A hunt of cloaks and daggers, played across entire solar systems, and finally ending in a fight that had leveled three city blocks. The hunter had earned a place on Zachariel's armor. And now the skull was gone, shattered into pieces in a way that not even vehicle fire could have managed.

Then time continued and their blades locked, with him glancing down towards the pieces finally hitting the ground. No more than a second had passed, but as the warlord focused on Ingrid, it felt as if a century had gone by. Lenses suddenly flaring into a blinding glare, his crimson gaze locked onto Ingrid as he responded.
"You. Don't."

With a sudden roar, Zachariel struck back. Hate filled his every swing, rage made them faster, and pure, unfettered bloodlust, drove him on. In an instant, he transformed into a whirlwind of death and destruction, striking out and blocking at blinding speeds. And as he fought, the crimson glare of his lenses and the eyes beneath never left Ingrid, as he pushed, his growl echoed forth, vocalizing a fraction of the rage he felt.


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Others were not for rage driven as Zachariel, in fact, quite the opposite. Once, the Bloodsworn had been a horde of cultists lead by marauders. They had their beliefs in the Avatars to give them strength. Unacceptable losses had forced them to change, with new orders from Zachariel himself to adapt and overcome. To that end, they had become a true military organization. Slaves soldiers taken from other forces were put to good use, training devised to beat the cultists and marauders into shape were set up. And an army was formed out of a horde.

They were an army that would be able to match most militaries in unconventional ways. Better adaptability, more diversity, and utter fearlessness in completing their Avatars given task. Unfortunately, the enemy they faced this day were hardly most militaries. Force users were hardly normal and every day combatants, but this was Tython, so perhaps they should be considered normal here. But no matter how 'normal' it was to see Force users on a battlefield, most were ill equipped to handle them. The Bloodsworn were no different, those forces facing off against Judah and Damsy were no different.

So, as these two figures rushed towards their lines, they did as they had against all other foes. They opened fire. Blaster bolts and slugs tore through the air. However, what they would have needed to do was use explosives to even slow them down. This fact was proven by the fog suddenly hiding one of the attackers, and obscuring more of the battlefield. Shouts and curses were to be heard, even as others grew quite, trying to hear out their targets. Then a cry came out from a squad leader.
"Thermals, get thermals on!"

Several with thermals began searching for their targets, but screams drew attention elsewhere. Eyes and weapons snapped towards Judahs direction once more, even as cries of alarm spread. The Jedi had moved far past where it was expected. Further, the screams of pain and cries to the Avatars had ended as soon as they started, drawing curses from those who knew what that meant. Another squad or two dead, another foe further towards Akar Kesh than expected.

"Fething fools, open fire!"
Came the sudden and roared command from a Chosen. Standing further up the way, she stood on an outcropping, yelling down for all the Bloodsworn in this area to hear her. Chosen Maeve, bedecked in chosen armor so very reminiscent of Zachariel's armor, and bearing weapons fit for one of her rank. A repeating blaster and a heavy power hammer. She stood as a testament to what a lowly marauder could become. Bearing numerous skulls and trophies, she was the picturesque image of one of the Chosen.

"Kill these dogs, slaughter them as you have all others who stood against us!"
She was in charge here, and continued barking orders down to the squads under her command. Most of those orders were lost to the din of combat, seeing as she barked them into a comms unit. Still, the effects could be seen. Squads shifted fire and position, vehicles rumbled about and fired off. Occasional charges went out, taking back land taken, or exacting a costly toll before falling back. On and on it went, with her continuing on.

Occasionally she raised her voice once more, calling out to the leadership of the attackers. Taunts were thrown, challenges given, and dares to come closer were made. Where most of the Bloodsworn were ill equipped to handle Force users, the Chosen were well trained for such things. Maeve even moreso, having received even more rigorous training at the hands of Zachariel. All Chosen were hand picked and hand trained by the warlord, but those who showed more promise were elevated even further.

"Come you faithless curs, face me and die! You shall not pass us, only die at our hands! For the Avatars, for the Bloodsworn, for the Blood God!"
"For the Blood God!"

Challenges and rallying cries went out, often echoed by those beneath her. They shifted to her orders, rallied to her cries, and fought on under her gaze. She represented the will of their lord and master, and the will of the Avatars. Squads died, and more shifted forward. Even now, some squads rushed towards Judah and Damsy. They would hold them off, even though it'd cost them their lives. On and on they poured, cries to the Avatars and their god on their lips.

Then came a signal, a cry from the Dark Voice himself. For one long, eternal moment, there was a calm as that voice echoed.

"Hâsk jiaasen!!!"

That calm was ruined a second later, as the cry was taken up, echoed and repeated. Louder and louder, even as all the cultists, marauders, and others present set about their holy task for but a few seconds. Palms were cut and symbols drawn, blood runes of ur-Kittat were made across foreheads and bodies. Even as the cry went ever louder, even as they charged forth once more, intent in every step.
"Hâsk jiaasen!!!"
"Hâsk jiaasen!!!"
"Hâsk jiaasen!!!"

The holy symbol of ur-Kittat now adorned the bodies of the faithful. From the lowest cultist slave, to the highest Chosen, they all now bore that symbol. Maeve herself had the symbol on her forehead, even as she opened a comm line to the Bloodsworn. Her voice was a reflection of the cruel evil that had come before.

"In blood, we are born. In blood, we are sanctified. With blood we swear our oaths. With blood we sanctify our vows. In the name of the Dark Voice, in the name of the Avatars, for the Blood God! Hâsk jiaasen! Hâsk jiaasen! Hâsk jiaasen!"


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"No Zach, I never underestimate anyone. You already know that. I’m just more familiar with shadow games and politics than you are. Anyone who is charismatic and is in the right place at the right time and is targeting the right layer. Populist politicians are always like that. I never underestimate the fanatics or the religious fanatics." she told him.

She acknowledged Solipsis' power, it would have been foolish not to do so. They had already met and she felt him several times. Last but not least, the woman did not like personal cults either. Did she have to ask herself when she lost Zach? She knew the man was a fanatic, but he had never spoken like that before. Would recent successes have caused all this? Noris, Empress Teta? She thought that was probably the case. Even the woman was surprised to feel these feelings, sorrow, and sadness for a few moments before she instinctively suppressed them. Because of that, as she saw her lover now.

ShHe had never felt such a deep chasm between the two of them, even when they were really enemies. Now she had to realise that Zachariel was not only an ally and a lover, but also a friend. No, she still didn't feel love, but losing a friend, or rather getting lost, was painful even for her. That’s why she didn’t let anyone close to her and kept her distance from everyone. Because of her position and work, she couldn’t afford to have friends. Because sooner or later they will all betray her or get lost and gone astray.

"Oh, Zach…" there was only deep sorrow in her voice.

No pity, just grief and sorrow. She didn't consider the man less because he thought so.

"I also saw and felt his power. You know exactly that few things can surprise me in the galaxy or beyond because I’ve seen a lot. I simply know my own strengths and abilities. Unlike others, I keep them secret and hide them. And maybe I'm doing this well." she told him. "I know exactly who is next to him, who his helpers are and what the Avatars are capable of."

Ingrid would have gladly shouted into the man's face what forces Zach thought she had? She had already faced the Prazutis and Carnifex duo three times and was still here. Ingrid surprised them too.

"If the Maw is really as strong and promising as you think, it shouldn’t depend on the leader, but on everyone in it. It has to remain strong even if Solipsis dies. A state, an army, a cult is only as strong as their weakest link. Tell me, Zachariel, how strong is the Maw in this regard?" she asked.

The red-haired woman studied the Maw religion, she knew it was a good thing for them to die and they were not afraid of it because the Avatars were waiting for them in the Galaxy-to-come. She knew it was a lie, the Netherworld wasn't what they were promised. It's something completely different. Ingrid was a little similar to them, she was not afraid of fighting either, and the members of her people want to die in battle because this is a worthy and glorious death. And only this.

"Isn't that everyone’s goal to get to the Galaxy-to-come? Or are they just lying to the brainwashed soldiers?" she asked coldly.

Ingrid chose a vile method that surprised the man a lot. For her, it was no joy, in fact, before she suppressed her feelings, she even hated herself for doing so. ShHe never wanted to crush Zach. If she had to kill him, she wanted to do it cleanly and quickly. Not like this. But now she needed the man's anger.

~ Please forgive me! ~ she thought to herself.

"I warned you Zach! I asked you not to force me to do so, I am not happy to do so." she said in a still sad voice. "And see why I said what I said."

Before the attack, Ingrid unleashed her necklace with telekinetics and pulled it into one of the pockets of her armour. She no longer hid her power and began to absorb the dark side forces on the planet, mostly from the ritual. As well as the energies and emotions flowing from Zach. She had done this before in front of the man, but she was much, much weaker then. Ingrid reached into the Force and accelerated on her own, the world slowing down around her. Her strength grew at every moment, she had plenty to feed on. As she moved, she picked up Zachariel's movement's speed to defend herself even more effectively against the man.

Since their last serious fight, Ingrid has accumulated more than three hundred years of combat experience, typically in the Netherworld. She didn't hold back now. Other times, she always showed the same amount of strength and talent as her opponent. Not now, she didn't care now if she was growing above Zachariel. One of the cuts hit his side, however, thanks to the continuous dark side energies, the cut disappeared as fast as Zach’s injuries from his regeneration.

Ingrid was still neutral in the Force, but her strength was still growing moment by moment. There were moments when she attacked her opponent in such a way that the attack might have caused serious injury because the man could have not defended himself but she did not finish it. She just showed that she could do it. However, her defences are nearly perfect, anyway, she used only a dagger against the huge sword and axe. They could probably only look like two blurry spots to an outside observer.

In the end, however, Ingrid tried to push Zach away from her with a strong telepathic push, and if that didn’t work out, she jumped further away and teleported away. The shadows moved around her alive, she was part of it. She glowed a silvery neutral light in the Force. Zach could never feel her as strong or determined as she is now.

"I don’t think I’m the one who is underestimating their opponent in this place. Do you really want me to teach you a lesson we'll both regret?!" she asked.

She reached out and the pieces of the broken skull / skulls rose from the ground and then agreed over Ingrid's palm. It took just four or five seconds and the skull/skulls was/were assembled, intact as before. She hovered it/them back it to the man with telekinetics.

"Tell me what they're up to, what they're planning!" it was no longer a request but an order. " The truth, not what they're lying to Maw! I accept that you believe in the Avatars, you worship them, you respect them as gods. But you also know that it is a lie when they promise a paradise. Zach, our goal is not to destroy the galaxy, not even yours. We want a different world, but not one that the Sith dominates or shapes into its own image. Please! This is exactly what you are fighting against, which you do not want either! Please tell me what they are planning! If it really is what we want, I will go and I'll try to kill him another day. You know I never break my word!"

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Objective: Tython Accord
Location: Surface, Naboo
Equipment: Equipment: The Soulsabers (hidden) | Brynja coat | Hersir Imperial Uniform | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Tags: Baron Reinhardt Ström Baron Reinhardt Ström | Aerarii Tithe Aerarii Tithe | Isla Draellix-Kobitana Isla Draellix-Kobitana | Adhira Chandra Adhira Chandra | Kel Se'Taav Kel Se'Taav | The Quartermaster The Quartermaster | Eryk Thaxton | Open
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[ Lady of the Dark ]
<"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>

  • Ingrid is listening and talking.

The Empress wasn't surprised that the Overseer wasn't happy about what she had asked him to do. However, Ingrid did not explain why it was all. She wasn't really sure the man would understand. Or at least they didn’t have enough time to tell the whole thing. Because the entire correlations all slowly encompass a decade and a half. In the meantime, they also arrived at the scene. Upon arrival, she greeted Lady Draellix and also the Chancellor. Unfortunately, however, there was no time for even a small talk because everyone else slowly arrived as well.

So Ingrid also took her place as well. The first person was Chandra, who arrived. The last time she met the former chancellor was when she wanted to banish her forever. She then "lent" her to the NIO, where Rausgeber tried to assassinate her. Everything else has been history. Ingrid nodded moderately at the old woman. Ironically, the woman now qualifies as a little girl next to Ingrid, thanks to too much time the redhead woman spent at the Netherworld.

More soldiers and politicians arrived, which reminded the woman why she didn’t like the Galactic Alliance. Among other things, that decency is not known either. Her thoughts didn't show on her face anyway, and she nodded to the bothan and everyone else who arrived late. The same was true for the Quartermaster. True, they were at war, but Ingrid always respected her opponents and gave them due courtesy.

"The Eternal Empire and Ashlan Crusade recently had a joint action on the planet Iol, where we stole information from Maw and the Final Dawn. They contain the same information that the leader of the Enclave said." she confirmed the other woman's words. "All Sith want the same thing, to erase the current galaxy and life and shape it into their own. This has always been Carnifex's plan. At the moment he is also there with Solipsis. This confirms my last conversation with him when he talked about large-scale plans on the way I transported him to the capital of Ashlan Crusade as a prisoner of war."

Here she looked at Isla for a moment, then at the speaking agent.

"Fortunately, there are no indestructible weapons or ships, or space stations. Mercy was also destroyed, unfortunately late and Csilla paid for it. We have to be faster now. Although in the case of Tython, you may not even need a superweapon to destroy the planet. Don't forget… Tython is a planetary Force Nexus. And it has two moons, Ashla and Bogan, which are also Nexuses. This place can also be attacked in the Force." she explained.

It was ironic that she was talking about that.

"It is not enough to just look and take care of the space, we need more than that if we don't want to lose." she told them in her usual cold and military voice.

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The Temple Ruins
Location: Tython, Jedi Temple Ruins
Tags: Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka | Maple Harte Maple Harte | Laertia Io Laertia Io | The Amalgam The Amalgam | Madison Starr
Romund Sro Romund Sro | Thomas Barran Thomas Barran | Darth Saevius Darth Saevius | Lehvi Vass Lehvi Vass | Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis

  • The Scar Hounds draw blood runes, linking themselves to Solipsis's ritual
  • The Legion of the Leech digs in and starts ambushing House Io infantry
  • Bogaranth Cavalry charges the House Io tanks
  • The rough riders pursue and fire their blaster rifles at the Akk Riders' mounts, trying to bring them down
  • The war skiff auxiliaries return fire on Zark's scout walkers with E-WEB cannons and missile launchers

It was time. The ritual had truly begun.

All across Tython, the Scar Hounds received the signal. "Hâsk jiaasen!!!" The dark words of power echoed from a hundred thousand throats and more, echoing across the battlefield as every last warrior paused to reverently speak the phrase. Each of them carried a small ritual knife, one that they now drew. Without fear or flinching they drew those knives across their palms, just as the Heathen Priests had instructed. Blood flowed freely, blood that was their source of life, blood that carried the Living Force that bound all living things.

The Heathen Priests had drilled what came next into their heads, over and over again in the weeks before the assault. Dipping their fingers in their own blood, the marauder tribesmen began to paint. None of them knew what the runes they drew meant, what the significance of their actions would be... but that was the nature of faith, was it not? Foreheads and cheeks and shoulders were stained with crimson lines, crude imitations of ancient Sith runes of power. Crude, but sufficient. They had established the bond that they sought.

Their souls were bound to Solipsis's ritual.

"Our lives for the Dark Voice!" they cried as one. "Our lives for the Galaxy To Come!" Then the distraction was over, and the charging and fighting began again. The entire process had taken perhaps thirty seconds, a tiny fraction of the time this great battle would take, but its significance could not be overstated. Every warrior likes to believe that his death will mean something, will contribute to what he believes in somehow. For the warriors of the Maw, their deaths truly would. Every last soul would now feed Solipsis's ritual.

The ritual to unmake this wretched reality...

... and create the galaxy anew.

The Brotherhood had come here, into the very heart of its greatest enemy, surrounded and attacked by every other major power in the galaxy, without a snowball's chance in hell of a traditional military victory. The numbers arrayed against them were simply too great. But if every last one of them died for their cause, as every last one of them was prepared to do, then all the energies released as their lives were snuffed out would go somewhere. Their very souls would be the paving stones of the long, bloody road to paradise.

Praise be to the Prophet of the Maw.


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

Laertia Io Laertia Io | Maple Harte Maple Harte | The Amalgam The Amalgam | Whichever​

A lightshow erupted above Onas Korv's head.

The burly mercenary ducked instinctively, though the exchange of fire was well above her head. The House Io cruiser had responded to the grounded Crucifix II's attack with a barrage of his own, lashing out with energy torpedoes and some kind of railgun weapon. It was a bizarre little duel, two starships either touching or barely above the planet's surface, the trails of their weapons kicking up a storm of leaves and drawing wakes on the water. Scorch marks soon crisscrossed the flooded plains, thick black lines on the swamp grass.

Beneath the missile-filled sky, the Legion of the Leech was on the move. The Lugubraa warriors slithered through the cloying muck and thick clumps of reeds, spreading out into the marsh like a stain upon the water. Most of them were dumb brutes, capable of little more than killing and eating their prey, following only the simplest of orders... but the elders among their kind, those that underwent a second phase of brain development in their fifties, were clever tacticians. They would be the ones who directed the dimwitted horde.

The Legion troops dug into the mud, literally. Their wormlike bodies were perfect for wallowing in the muck of the flooded plain, allowing them to lurk in the fetid water and marshy sandbars with ease. This granted them excellent cover and concealment. When foes passed their hidden positions, they burst forth like a swarm of spiders from an egg sac, hosing down their enemies with heavy repeaters - or snapping their mouths, ring upon ring upon ring of razor-sharp teeth, shut around the bodies of their foes. Then they chewed.

Lugubraa could digest almost anything.

Onas needed a different counter to tanks, though... and the Scar Hounds had already deployed all of their own armor. Fortunately, that wasn't all they'd brought. The tribe didn't just make use of vehicles; at their furthest back roots, they were beastmasters. "Send in the Bogaranths!" Onas commanded, and then ducked back into cover again; she didn't fancy getting trampled by the stampede that was to come. The slime runners came first, living bait, charging across the field on the backs of orbaks to lure their stupid charges into range.

The Bogaranth Cavalry thundered through the swamp in their wake. The long-legged beasts moved easily through the sucking mire, not at all slowed by the difficult terrain; it was not unlike their home. The creatures were colossal, and their bulk was composed almost entirely of muscle. They could flip or crush an armored tank with terrifying ease, if only they could get close enough... and once their charge began, it was very hard to stop. On their backs, their riders pinged away with blaster-lances, adding to the Legion's repeater fire.

This bizarre alien alliance would fight for the plains.

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

Lehvi Vass Lehvi Vass
For a moment, it seemed that the Akk Riders might stand and fight. The charging Rough Riders felt a momentary thrill of fear pass through them at the sight of a deflected blaster bolt and an ignited lightsaber pike - were these scouts Jedi warriors? If so, it would hardly matter that the Mawites had them outnumbered; Jedi could tear through five times their number in marauders with ease. But the Mawites were not afraid to die. Their faith was in the Three Avatars, and if they died in battle here, they would pass into the Galaxy To Come.

"RUN THEM DOWN!" Mandugei bellowed, leading his riders in pursuit. The Akk Riders were swift enough that the Mawite Rough Riders would not easily catch them while the retreated, but that wasn't their only way to attack. Stowing their lances along the flanks of their mounts, they unslung the blaster rifles on their shoulders and opened fire. Kagan-Jin were practically born in the saddle, riding before they could walk, and they learned from a young age to shoot with pinpoint accuracy even from atop a moving mount. They were good.

But the Akk Riders had already shown that they could deflect blaster bolts... so the Rough Riders didn't aim at the warriors. Instead they aimed at their enemies' mounts, trying to crippled their limbs or drop them entirely with body shots. If the pursuing riders could drop the beasts, then the Akk Riders would be easy prey, unable to reach safety or call for help. Guiding their orbaks with their knees, they fired relentlessly, well-aimed individual blasts rather than bursts in order to preserve their accuracy. Time to see how they'd handle that.

Mandugei was eager to take their skulls.

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

Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka | Madison Starr ?
"WHOOOOO! Look at 'em blow! KAPOW!"

Mucknose looked up toward the stern of the Messy Blighter and shook his meaty head. The skiff's designated spotter, called Eyeshine thanks to his habit of staring directly into explosions, was... excitable. When the MetaCannon shells started falling, he had a tendency to get caught up in the spectacle of long-range destruction, shouting and jumping and capering around on the deck. He was a good spotter, though; he had an incredible talent for judging distances and angles, calling out targeting coordinates with near-droidlike precision.

The Alliance firebase on the northern side of the Jedi Temple ruins was their target, and they managed to shell it for several minutes on the approach. They couldn't actually see the damage they were inflicting, of course; it was all much too far away, at the kind of range that no true Mawite zealot would tolerate. The marauder tribes despised any kind of fighting except close combat, seeing it as cowardly. It'd taken years for The Mongrel to get his Scar Hounds to come around to artillery, which had once been the bane of their existence.

So the crew of the Messy Blighter could only imagine the carnage that each incendiary shell caused as it fell, presumably scorching stone and burning Alliance marines into little piles of ash and bone. The only visible signs from their position, the hints of destruction that were getting Eyeshine so excited, were the bright flashes of each detonation and the plumes of smoke that followed. Between each belching MetaCannon shot and the rolling thunder of the explosion, the crew worked seamlessly to reload and readjust, each to his role.

Crank down. Load shell. Crank up. Adjust angle. Fire. Repeat.

Sweat glistened on their backs as they worked.

All too soon those distant kabooms were rudely interrupted. "Awww, no!" shouted Eyeshine, clapping a filthy hand to his forehead. Mucknose looked up and saw what had prompted the cry: the incendiaries had begun detonating in midair, slamming into an incandescent barrier and bursting well above their intended targets. "Cease fire!" Mucknose shouted. The fire-filled shells were anti-infantry, incapable of breaching plasma shields, and there was no sense in wasting ammunition. "We'd better switch barrels, eh, Slim?"

The rail-thin Weequay captain nodded.

Time for a quick change.

The beauty of Chiss MetaCannons, the captured designs that served as each War Skiff's main gun, was their versatility. You could change more than just their ammunition; you could change their whole mode of fire. For cracking shields, they didn't want their artillery barrel; they wanted the charric maser, a Chiss weapon that combined both kinetic and energy damage. Maser beams would drain those plasma shields in a hurry, and then they could go back to merrily blowing up all the distant little figures down in the temple valley.

But before they could start firing maser beams, they needed to switch out the entire barrel. Slim pressed a button, and the belowdecks storage compartments of the skiff slid open, revealing ammo storage and a variety of different gun barrels. Mucknose and the other gunners ratcheted the cannon down until it was horizontal with the deck, then released the magnalocks that held it in place. It dropped to the deck - they all leapt back to keep from being crushed - and rolled into place in the storage bay. Then they levered out the new one.

"Incoming!" Eyeshine shouted. Mucknose swore.

Couldn't things be easy, just once?

Abandoning the barrel change, Mucknose and the other gunners ran to the side of the skiff, staring in the direction Eyeshine had indicated. There were some strange-looking walkers headed their way, crashing into the flank of the Scar Hound armor. The auxiliaries watched in horror as the Jedi at their head slashed his way through the skiff beside them, and as mortar and rotary cannon fire ripped into the LuchsHai technicals around them. "Return fire!" Mucknose bellowed, eyes wide with panic. The gunners rushed to obey.

On each side of a Mawite War Skiff was one E-WEB heavy repeater and one E-WEB missile launcher. Mucknose rushed for the heavy repeater; he'd heard that Jedi could catch missiles with their minds, and he didn't want one thrown back in his face. The Jedi would just block blaster cannon bolts with his laser sword, of course... so he aimed for the legs of the Jedi's scout walker, shooting for the joints and trying to shear them off with concentrated cannon fire. If he succeeded, the Jedi would topple from his perch, and then...

... well, Mucknose hadn't thought that far ahead yet.
 
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Location: Tython System
Tags: Marlon Sularen Marlon Sularen | Aximand Sicarus Aximand Sicarus | Maple Harte Maple Harte | Laertia Io Laertia Io | Mith'akis'ormo Mith'akis'ormo | Mylo Thorne
Vaux Gred Vaux Gred | Isla Draellix-Kobitana Isla Draellix-Kobitana | Juno - 11/0571 Juno - 11/0571 | Vemric Keldra | VADM Tarsa Doon VADM Tarsa Doon | Tren Chaar Tren Chaar
Aculia Voland Aculia Voland | Caarlyle Rausgeber Caarlyle Rausgeber | Liram Angellus Liram Angellus | Albrecht F. Herlock Albrecht F. Herlock | The Amalgam The Amalgam
Onrai Onrai | KV-6000 | Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis | Akûz the Ravager Akûz the Ravager | Aldo Garrick Aldo Garrick

  • Tu'teggacha fights to hold back The Amalgam's mental assault
  • The crews of the Mawite ships draw the blood runes, linking their souls to Solipsis's ritual
  • The Fatalis and star destroyers fire their cannons into the tightly packed incoming fighter swarm
  • The Fatalis begins suffering dramatic damage from the Io and Elysian attack
    • All of the star destroyers are showing damage, some significant
      • Damage is color-coded in the fleet list
  • So many enemy craft are swarming around the Fatalis (five fleets) that they may hit each other
    • Eternal Empire fire is at great risk of striking Io warships or Elysian fighters
  • The twelve Samael-class frigates jump in from reserve to attack the Elysian carriers
    • They join up with Sularen's reinforcements, doing the same

Fatalis, a Fatalis-class Star Dreadnought (10,000m)Defensive Positions
Woeful Dirge, a Crucifix II-class Star Destroyer (2,000m)Defensive Positions
Ruination, a Crucifix II-class Star Destroyer (2,000m)Defensive Positions
Teta's Sorrow, a Crucifix II-class Star Destroyer (2,000m)Defensive Positions
Griefmaker, a Crucifix II-class Star Destroyer (2,000m)Defensive Positions
Blood of Martyrs, a Crucifix I-class Star Destroyer (1,800m)Defensive Positions
Final Sacrifice, a Crucifix I-class Star Destroyer (1,800m)Defensive Positions
Fist of War, a Crucifix I-class Star Destroyer (1,800m)Defensive Positions
Wild Fury, a Crucifix I-class Star Destroyer (1,800m)Defensive Positions
Twelve Samael-class Frigates (398m x 12 = 4,776m)Defensive Positions



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At first, for one glorious moment, the Taskmaster was winning.

The mind of this ambitious House Io commander was an open buffet of suffering, and Tu'teggacha went out of his way to taste everything. Her memories contained tragedy after tragedy after tragedy, betrayals and failures and grief so great she'd wished to end her own life. Oh, the things he could have done with her back in his torture chamber! This was a mind already near-broken by boundless sorrow. He would have enjoyed finishing that breaking, turning her thoughts to jagged shards and reforging her into a weapon of the Maw. Her little ritual of control? All too easily broken.

But the triumph, the surge of glorious power, was fleeting.

Even as Xiphos's attack crumbled, a new presence suddenly pressed in on the Ebruchi's mind. Or presences, plural? Tu'teggacha struggled to make sense of the rage-filled multitude that was bearing down on him, many souls somehow bound as one. He had encountered something like this only once before, when he and the Heathen Priests had bound the former Omni-Drone known as The Manifold. But this time he had no conclave of dark mystics to assist him. He was alone against this horde of horrors, torn from his position of control and now fighting for his very life and sanity.

Trickles of blood began to run from the corners of his glassy eyes.

RESIST! He had to resist. But the many souls were slippery, and an attack on the memories of any one of them would do no good against the teeming horde as a whole. The Taskmaster shifted his efforts to defense, making his mind into a shield rather than a scalpel. None of the individuals that made up the whole of his foe could overpower his well-honed mind, and if he could block their efforts individually, blot out the horrors they conjured, he could endure. For a while, anyway. It seemed that he could now add his own mind to the countless places the Brotherhood was outnumbered.

It would require all his strength. The bridge crew were on their own.

---------------------------------------
The Taskmaster fell silent, lost in his own struggle.

That left First Officer Hrishk to take command for now.

The tall, powerfully-built Trandoshan was an experienced starship captain, a former pirate before he'd found something worth believing in - the Brotherhood's promise of a galaxy reborn. That newfound faith was the only reason he'd agreed to take part in this battle. If he'd followed his pirate instincts, the well-honed sense of when a battle was destined to go south and was better off avoided, he never would have come to Tython. Sure enough, this was a pretty hopeless-looking situation. Tu'teggacha's battle group was under attack by five larger fleets almost from the moment it arrived.

The enemy's gravity wells were on. There was no escape. Every last one of them, the hundreds of thousands of crew and marines, was almost certainly going to die here, under the guns of a near-united galaxy. But they'd known that on the way in, known that they would be cartoonishly outnumbered and outgunned. They had chosen to come anyway, because that was what faith was about. The Prophet had promised them that their willing sacrifice in this battle would advance the plans of the Three Avatars, and what did their lives matter in comparison to the will of the only true gods? They would give them gladly.

Hrishk turned away from his console for a moment, ignoring the blaring sensor contacts and damage reports, and faced the bridge crew. "It is time," he solemnly intoned, knowing that the crews of every other Mawite ship in his battle group were doing the same. All across the bridge, every last officer produced a small ritual knife. As one they drew these knives across their palms, then dabbed their fingers in the flowing blood. "Hâsk jiaasen!!!" they intoned, speaking words whose significance they did not understand. The Heathen Priests had told them it was the will of the Avatars.

Nothing else mattered. In blood, they drew the runes.

They did not know, could not know, that they had just linked their life force to the ritual of Solipsis on the planet below... but if they had understood, they would have rejoiced to be so useful to their Prophet. With each death, all the energy of the Living Force bound up in their bodies would flow to their Dark Voice, granting him more of the power he required to tear open reality itself. Their deaths would have meaning, would accomplish something concrete. Each martyr would help to unseal paradise, their blood becoming lubricant for the gate-hinges of heaven. There was no higher calling.

The solemn moment passed, and Hrishk turned back to the reports. Nothing was going well. Wave after wave of Elysian fighters - 570 squadrons of twelve made nearly seven thousand fighter craft, over ten times as many as the Rebel Alliance had deployed at Endor - had initially been making their attack runs toward the Fatalis, but had broken off once it had redistributed power away from its weapon systems. They must have been tipped off by the surge in shield power and the main guns falling silent, and now they were turning their attack runs toward easier prey.

The only upside to the colossal numbers of starfighters now engaging the Brotherhood capital ships was that there were far too many for them to attack all at once; they would only get in each other's way. Instead they were poised to wash over Tu'teggacha's fleet like the crashing of the tides, fighter squadrons escorting one bomber wing in, protecting them on the way out, and then bringing in another. It was a relentless barrage, each attack bringing down a storm of missiles and torpedoes on the Mawite forces. Against such a continuous and concerted attack, coming in from multiple directions at once...

... well, the outnumbered Mawites were in a bad position.

Point defense cannons lashed out in a continuous grid, fighting to intercept as much ordnance - and as many starfighters - as they could before it impacted the valuable capital ships. Their job was made harder by the enemy electronic warfare systems, preventing them from easily disabling the missiles. Unfortunately, that wasn't their only problem. A second Elysium Empire fleet had swept in from below, and was directing all guns at the Fatalis, the galaxy's biggest fire magnet. These soldiers of that backward Outer Rim imperium had sat the entire war out until now, but seemed determined to make up for lost time.

There was nothing available to counter them.

The House Io forces were still in the midst of Tu'teggacha's warfleet, and apparently the continuous bombardment of eight star destroyers was doing... moderate damage to the ships of a minor faction. They were somehow still coming, and for a moment Hrishk thought they really would try to ram the Fatalis, which would have been quite the hilarious moment in the midst of all this despair. But they did not commit the irredeemably stupid act of smashing headlong into the ship. Instead they scraped along the top, dropping out mines and seismic charges and energy torpedoes in their wake.

This was what point defense was for, of course, and most of the physical explosives could be intercepted or disarmed with the missile deactivation transmitter, juiced up with the full diverted power of the Fatalis's big guns. Energy torpedoes could not be similarly countered, however. Hrishk watched, forcing his faith to calm his despairing heart, as the SSD's shields dipped precipitously under the combined Elysian and Io attack. The first hull breaches began to appear on his readouts, angry red blotches on the holoimage of the ship, as klaxons wailed and repair crews scrambled to seal off venting decks.

Things were not looking any better among the Star Destroyers. The Eternal Empire's forces - two fleets now, with Vaux joining in - had joined the Elysian starfighters in pounding the capital ships, opening up from range. There was only one upside to being so hilariously badly outnumbered - the enemy was going to find it hard not to hit each other. As Eternal Empire cannon fire streaked in toward Tu'teggacha's battle group, it was also flying directly at the colossal cloud of fast-moving Elysian fighters, and right into the midst of the House Io ships that had committed themselves to the middle of the Mawites.

Accidents, as they say, are bound to happen.

That was cold comfort, though. Every last one of the star destroyers, pristine only minutes ago, was showing damage as shields flickered and missiles struck home. The Blood of Martyrs, fittingly enough, was nearly destroyed, explosions rippling across its upper decks like a cascading avalanche of snow. Teta's Sorrow and the Fist of War had both suffered serious hull breaches, with the Fist's orbital autocannon sheared off completely by a series of concentrated torpedo detonations. They were rapidly being bled dry... but what could they do? They cold not reposition, could not retreat, could only keep shooting.

They did have one last weapon to deploy, one that the Taskmaster had been holding in reserve - the Samael-class frigates, bristling with ion cannons and concussion missiles. They wouldn't do much to counter the fighters, but with all of those fighters committed against the Fatalis and star destroyers... well, who was watching the carriers? "Bring in the reserves at these coordinates," Hrishk ordered. "We'll give their fighters nowhere to return to." They would reenact the New Republic's tactic at the Battle of Ciutric - the infamous Thrawn Pincer, using the enemy's own gravity wells against them.

As it turned out, they weren't the only ones with that plan.

The twelve Samaels emerged from hyperspace at the same moment as Sularen's, using the edges of the Elysian carriers' gravity wells to drop into precise positions on the flank of one of the Elysian carrier groups. Surging rapidly forward to close the remaining distance, they unleashed their twenty ion cannons each on the multitude of mini-carriers, seeking to drain their shields and rapidly disable them for easy destruction. "It is good to see reinforcements, Grand Overseer," Hrishk transmitted to Sularen. "When these carrier groups are finished, let us turn to the second Elysian fleet." The one commanded by Keatoch Keatoch .

More reinforcements came in now, the armada of Admiral Garrick and the warfleet of the Ravager, smashing into the flanks of the already committed forces of the Tython Accords. Hrishk smiled, his scaly lips drawing back over sharp, predatory teeth. Yes, today was likely his day of dying. The Fatalis shuddered with each new impact, shields dropping dangerously, fires sweeping its decks... but things were just a little less one-sided now. The Brotherhood forces would wage a battle to remember here, a battle worthy of the True Gods. And when he died, Hrishk would hold his head high on the way to paradise.

Time to see how many foes he could take with him.


OOC: Reacting to like 10 posts, PM / Discord DM me if I missed something
EDIT: Negotiated to remove some snark and clarify some moves
 
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MARGIN CALL
ALLIANCE HIGH COMMISSION // NABOO
ONE WEEK PRIOR TO THE BATTLE OF TYTHON


Guarantor | Visions of Gold | Attire
Adhira Chandra Adhira Chandra | Kel Se'Taav Kel Se'Taav | Eryk Thaxton | The Quartermaster The Quartermaster | Ingrid L'lerim Ingrid L'lerim | Baron Reinhardt Ström Baron Reinhardt Ström | Isla Draellix-Kobitana Isla Draellix-Kobitana

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The location of the conference was unusual. The invitees were far from friends, some were even enemies. The topics they were discussing were macabre even by recent standards. And yet, it seemed to be working.

For now.

The Quartermaster, the martial ruler of The Enclave, was the first to speak. From beneath her helmeted head, she confirmed the presence of the Brotherhood’s Avatar of War and disclosed that her people had acquired plans for the superweapon. Could that be it, could the battle already be won? Tithe’s excitement that such a simple solution had fallen into his lap was quickly dampened by Agent Thaxton, who warned that this could be a trap. The Chancellor relaxed back into his seat, buoyed somewhat by Senator Se’Taav reminding the gathering that superweapons have been overcome thanks to advanced intel.


Empress L'lerim warned about the Force nexus present on Tython and the extra complication that would bring to the battle. “I quite agree Empress,” Tithe replied. “@Darth Solipsis, this uhh, Sith’ari I believe is the term, presents the gravest, ohh yes the gravest, threat to the galaxy since the 400 year darkness! Why, the Sith who have come before him are mere pretenders to the dark power his wields!”

Machinations were already beginning to turn in Tithe’s head. The markets and the battlefield were not too dissimilar at their core. Both were simple numbers games between opposing groups jostling for control. You manoeuvred, feinted, and tried to stack the deck against the other. If you could get your enemies to carry your financial risk, they were doomed to fail from the start.

“I can think of no more capable vanguard to defeat this horrible weapon than the brave Mandalorians,” Tithe explained. Every beskar wearing body that turned cold on the deck of the Avatar of War was one less Alliance death. Less bloodshed was good for his approval rating. He swept his gave around the table. “I’m certain our combined forces can hold the line while you do this most important of tasks.”

“But, there are - how do you say? - terms and conditions.”


Tython was deep within Alliance borders, and only a short hyperspace jump to Coruscant. Tithe wasn’t about to let outside forces, including warships that had literally invaded the Alliance world of Byss, have free reign within his domain. The chaos on the markets of once-enemy warships crisscrossing the Core would sink the Galactic Alliance Credit.

“Firstly, all forces must yield full command to the Alliance military, that seems only fair. And secondary - and I don’t think I can be clearer about this - none of your forces may step foot on Tython. It’s an Alliance world, a sacred world - to some - and it will be protected as such.”
 
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Dimitri Voltura

Guest
D

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ALLIES: Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis | Darth Ptolemis | @whoever else - there's too many of you | BOTM | NSO
ENEMIES:
Everybody else (I'll tag if you're important)
ENGAGING: Siv Dragr Siv Dragr
GEAR: In bio.

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BURN

Fury reigned supreme in the valley.

Men and women shrunk away in despair as the ancient Sith's power grew stronger each second while the great Tho Yor shrieked above as the Sith'ari started to unleash hell on the Galaxy.

The beginning of a Force Storm started whipping across the planet while Darkness inched ever closer to eclipse the Light and the Dragon was reveling in all of it as all the energy fed him.

Senses more alert than ever before, Dimitri's crimson gaze caught the rocket hurtling toward him from the sky. By the time it hit the ground, the predator was already standing on the opposite side, crimson blade thrumming in equal challenge when the Mandalorian touched down right in front of him.

With all the energy and despair swirling around the Dragon, the void in front of him was clear as day. The life force of the Mando'ade could dimly be felt, humming beneath a bulk of nothing at all.

The sneer revealing the elongated fangs was sinister.
"You think voidstone can save you from me, Mando'ade? It won't." he said. Centuries of dealing with Mandalorians had taught Dimitri not to underestimate them. Even the Dark Emperor Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex could not quell them for long. But all beings had an end sooner or later, be they individual or populations, as the Brynadul have proven in recent times. The Dragon's decades-spanning tenure as Obsidian Lord of the Confederacy had given him great insight into the fabric that was the Enclave at its core.

So the Hydra moved again.

The speed with which he did could be mistaken for teleportation, as it surpassed any Force-enhanced movement. But he was behind the Mando'ade in the twitch of an eye, the crimson blade thrumming toward an exposed knee in the process.

Expecting at least some resistance, he kept moving with the same speed, coming to a stop a few paces away from the bounty hunter's right. With no follow up attack, it may seem that he was taunting the Mandalorian. In truth, he never had harboured any ill will toward them as a people, instead respecting their warrior's way.
"One chance, warrior - walk away. Leave this planet to fortify your own world for what will be coming." Dimitri said, giving him one honour-bound chance.

One chance before the Dragon would truly strike.


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Outskirts of Kaleth Temple, Tython
Running interference against the Maw.
Ishani Dinn Ishani Dinn

Kal froze as the ripples Solipsis' actions echoed outwards, the truth made manifest. He had lied to the Mawites when he told them that even the slaughter of erstwhile allies would serve their purpose - but it seemed he had been mistaken.

Their deaths would fuel the ritual, despite his best intentions.

For a moment he considered interfering with the flow of energy, but quickly thought better of it; each life spent was but a trickle joining a great river and while he might be able to divert a few, it would amount to little in the end. Besides, the worsening situation was taking a toll on his cohesion - he was a being of the Force and the Force was in turmoil.

<How delightfully unexpected.> It would be clear as day that he was distracted, even though she was the one fighting for her life. <You know, most spirits are made of thoughts and feelings - though admittedly not all are whole people.>

His kind had their simulacrums, their shades, for one - versatile extensions of one's will.
 

Zark could feel his energy blade shear through vital equipment. An explosion followed in the nimble scout vehicle's wake. Elsewhere Alliance recon marines wrought havoc on the Maw's clustered technicals. Taken unaware surviving artillery crews were slow reacting to the hostile outriders among them but then they returned fire with anti-infantry cannons to immediate and devastating effect.

Two walker pilots collapsed under a withering initial barrage. A clever conscript grew tired of the Jedi Master batting away incoming blasts and aimed lower. At first San Tekka tried to outpace the repeater yet there was only so much room to maneuver. Instead, he turned into incoming fire. Multiple blasts struck his transport before Zark let go and trusted the Force to guide his controls into a sudden leap.

Sailing over the Maw war skiff, he glanced down at its crew with a look of pity and disdain. It was a struggle not to crash when Zark landed. Damaged servos caused his walker to move with an awkward gait.

"Withdraw!" he shouted, pointing his lightsaber.

Two more walkers never made it past the forest tree line. At least three others were limping like Zark's and one marine was wounded. On their way back to the temple ruins the Jedi saw distant flames which could only be Maw war camps moving south. He passed beyond plasma shields straining under a renewed bombardment.

"Little time for pleasantries, I'm afraid."

Master San Tekka nodded to each of the Jedi in their host.

"How fare the defenses at Kaleth?" he asked, "We may need them quite soon."

  • Recon walkers suffer moderate losses. Break off towards the forest and pass back under shield cover.
  • Alliance heavy weapon teams digging into the hills overlooking Maw artillery.
  • Jedi reinforcements from Kaleth arrive. + troop morale.
  • Temple plasma shields taking increased charric damage.
 
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Location: Naboo
Objective: Discuss the Tython Accord
Tags: Baron Reinhardt Ström Baron Reinhardt Ström Aerarii Tithe Aerarii Tithe Adhira Chandra Adhira Chandra Kel Se'Taav Kel Se'Taav The Quartermaster The Quartermaster Ingrid L'lerim Ingrid L'lerim Eryk Thaxton


As Isla was preparing to take her seat having greeted all the delegates appropriately, Baron Reinhardt Ström Baron Reinhardt Ström mentioned making a proper acquaintance. "It does always seem like war and diplomacy that brings us all together, but i would enjoy meeting with you in a less formal setting once there is time.". She looked around again at the other delegates, with SAINT filling in the gaps for anyone ahe did not recognise immediately. She had not met the majority of them, but anyone here was here because they were important people, so there was more than enough information to go on.

Ingrid L'lerim Ingrid L'lerim glanced at her as she mentioned the criminal proceedings that she had helped initiate on Ession, Isla gave an almost imperceptible look on her face that ingrid would probably notice, aknowledging how much 'fun' that had turned out to be. At least her new liver had settled in now from her injuries and she no longer needed the medicines.

"The Empress is right, regards the risk of the Maw using the force to attack the planet, if this was merely a case of force of arms, our combined fleets, even before the addition of the New Imperials would have the upper hand. My advisors have discussed with me several avenues this attack could take and several of our Jedi are already working on ways to defend against this. I think this would be an area where our different force using orders should concentrate on working together.

The research from the Enclave into the structure of the mawite super weapon is very useful and I would request that they share this tactical data, I agree that this is unlikely to give us some magic bullet, but at least knowing which parts to shoot for the best effect will be tactically important."


Isla was confused about The Quartermaster The Quartermaster suggesting that this might be a bluff, there was no evidence that the Maw would shy away from a phyrric victory, the battle at Odessen showed her first hand how willing they were to sacrifice lives in order to achieve even minor objectives.

“Firstly, all forces must yield full command to the Alliance military, that seems only fair. And secondary - and I don’t think I can be clearer about this - none of your forces may step foot on Tython. It’s an Alliance world, a sacred world - to some - and it will be protected as such.”

Isla was stunned at these demands, not shocked behind the reasoning, it was after all their territory, but the fact that Aerarii Tithe Aerarii Tithe Asked for this meant he felt there was a chance that the other nations would conceed it.

"I am sorry Chancellor, these terms make no sense and merely present a barrier to us coming to an arrangement, I cannot imagine a scenario where any of the gathered leaders would submit their armed forces under the control of another nation." she glanced at Ingrid L'lerim Ingrid L'lerim and The Quartermaster The Quartermaster , they were enemies of each other but she suspected they would have common ground on this point. The Ashlans will of course respect the sovereign status of Tython, but to deny access to willing allies is madness, and we are well aware of the sacred nature of that world.

Maybe a thought should be given to what else might use that short hyperspace jump to your capital if you turn away your allies?"




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Location: Tython system, anchored around moon of Ashla
Objective: Send the Mawites back to the rock they crawled put from under
Tags: being engaged by Marlon Sularen Marlon Sularen
Aculia Voland Aculia Voland Albrecht F. Herlock Albrecht F. Herlock Aldo Garrick Aldo Garrick Ari Naldax Artemis Toth Artemis Toth Aximand Sicarus Aximand Sicarus Balt Vizsla Caarlyle Rausgeber Caarlyle Rausgeber Derix Tirall Derix Tirall Marlon Sularen Marlon Sularen Mellifluous Magenta Mith'akis'ormo Mith'akis'ormo Mylo Thorne Rex Valhoun Rex Valhoun Romul Saxon Romul Saxon Tren Chaar Tren Chaar The Amalgam The Amalgam Tu'teggacha Tu'teggacha Vaux Gred Vaux Gred Vemric Keldra

Ashla's Might SSD
Noble Crusader Battlecruiser - 9.5km
Lord Hoth
Bane of Darkness

3 x Dragoon Class Battle Carrier 10.6km
Fist of Demici
Geiseric's Blade
Lurrite Countess

3 x Bastion Planetary Invasion Ship 6km
Harbinger of Light
Bogans Demise
Temple of Peace

6 x Templar Class Star Destroyer 11.1km
Wisdom of Tython
Reprisal
Spirit of Bosph
Champion
Liberator
Bogan's Nemesis

14 x Dominion Class Escort Frigate 4.73km
8 x Principality Class corvette 1.28km
8 x Warden Class anti-starfighter frigate 2km

Even split complements of
Pegasus Interceptor Starfighters
Phoenix Multirole Starfighter

Numerous
Ashla's Mercy orbital insertion shield generators

Infantry available
Ashlan Marines
Sisters of Ashla

The Mawites had arrived in force, vastly outnumbered but extremely dangerous and leading that thing, the Avatars of War her analysts had determined it name after the last encounter, she looked at a small scar on her finger, such a small personal reminder of the massive destruction and loss of life that thing caused over Korriban. It was far out at the moment and the Alliance forces were beginning to engage.

The Mawites had performed a Thrawn Pincer maneuver, it gave her nostalgia from her early basic Naval training days reading ancient military tactics. It was not a wise maneuver considering how vastly out numbered they were as now the pincering forces were sandwiched between their target and even more allied warships. Her own fleet had begun to engage the arriving enemies. At the distant icy world at the edge of the system, a small group of her Frigates along with a Templar were engaged in running battles with opportunistic raiders there.

A large portion of her fleet that had been stationed at the outer worlds were now behind the bulk of the arricing mawite forces, they had not yet been engaged, so she ordered them to begin approaching the rear of enemy lines at best speed and open fire whenever ready. Her holo updated and showed her the approaching forces. The fleet she had approaching the enemy rear were a battlecruiser, battlecarrier, star destroyer and a trio of Frigates. It wasn't a battle winning force, but their position gave them an excellent opportunity.

There was an explosion nearby Isla's position on the bridge as long rang artillery fire flared her shields. "Admiral, the Enclave forces have informed us they attempt to board the enemy superweapon and are advising we check our fire." Isla suppressed a laugh, and shook her head, the mandalorian quest for personal glory over thoughts toward the bigger picture was alien to her.

"Lets try not to hit their boarding ships, but we need to stop that weapon" she replied to her gunnery captain "Please target all meteor cannons and Malmourral cannons at the primary weapon of that thing, we cannot allow it to target the planet or its moons."

Her hologram pinged as an energy spike was detected, she looked at her sensor operative. "Admiral, the super weapon appears to be charging and preparing to fire, its angle appears to e targeting the Ashla's Might but there are several enemy and allied ships between us and them so only 80% liklihood calculated of us being the primary target."

"All shield power to the fore shields, angle us to their shot if it comes. the Might was far from the super weapon, and one of the most heavily shielded ships in the galaxy, but Islas blood ran cold when she saw the glow of the weapon firing.



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TYTHON | WESTERN MOUNTAINS
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER | HELLION PRIVATE MERCENARY GROUP
ALLIES: NIO | ENCLAVE | Hall Mannarra Hall Mannarra | DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran
ENEMIES: Buckle up
ENGAGING: Thomas Barran Thomas Barran | Open
GEAR: In bio | unit equipment

  • Hellions roll out to Maw's right flank
  • Artillery open fire on Maw forces
  • Jas starts worrying

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Leaning against the wheel of a MRLS truck, Jas took a long drag from his cigarette as he looked around. The Hellions were in position, with their artillery dug in along the treacherous mountain pass overlooking the Jedi Temple and battlefield below. Others were dispersed at the foot of the mountain, their trucks and tanks ready to move against the enemies of the Galaxy and their current employers.

They were mercenaries, soldiers only caring about their next payday and how to spend all those credits… but he and a number of others couldn’t help but feel that this was also personal to a degree. They liked the galaxy the way it was. Planets kept turning, people kept killing, they kept getting money, that was good enough for him and thousands of soldiers under his command.

But what also gnawed at him was the uneasy motions in the Force. He could feel the overwhelming clash of Light and Dark around them all, the Jedi and Sith all marching and crossing blades down below, the beings in the fleets high above them all. ”I got a bad feeling about this.” He muttered as smoke rolled from his lips. Clouds built up above them and lightning cracked, challenging the cacophony of gunfire and explosions all around them all.

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”Sir, rockets are loaded and targets locked.” One of his officers spoke up, drawing the Pureblood’s attention back to reality. With a nod he took one last puff and crushed his cigarette beneath his boot before sliding on his helmet. ”Time to dance, huh? Let’s give this karking planet our dear message.” He quipped with a light smirk as he picked up his rifle and pushed off the wheel, making room between him and the artillery pieces.

”Mawites are one thing, but firing on the Jedi’s gonna give us one hell of a headache. Don’t think the boss wants that kind of flak against the company already.” The officer continued as he followed his commander, rifle at the ready. All around them, artillery troops were readying for the salvo, while others cleared out and got into position for their assault. ”And that’s why we won’t fire on ‘em. I’d like it, some of the boys will like it, but we ain’t hired to fight the Jedi, we’re hired to fight the Maw. Imps have been at it for years, those tractor drivers of theirs are either dead tired or so green you could use ‘em for strobe lights at a nightclub.” Troopers snickered and laughed as they walked with their commander until they reached the tank formation on the ground.

Calmly they boarded through the rear of a command tank and took a seat as the behemoth of metal and guns roared to life. ”We still linked with the columns to the south? Or did the Imps get busy with something else?” He asked his officer as he relaxed back in his seat with a deep breath. The fluctuations in the Force were getting to him. ”Still connected, but there’s a lot of interference with the lines. Not environmental, someone’s messing with our comms.” Another trooper spoke up. ”See what you can do. Tell the Imps that we’re rolling out, we’ll link up with them on the move. Let’s drive these bad boys right through the Maw’s flanks.” He ordered as he gave the hull of the tank a slap.

Looking around him one last time, he gave another nod. ”Radio all units. Send it.”

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Like a tidal wave of hellfire, the dozen or so trucks let loose with their deadly payload of high explosive and incendiary rockets. Howling engines split the air as the projectiles soared towards their grid coordinates. The massive swarm of Maw troops in the center of the valley was a priority, rockets directed all along the line from the marshes to the Jedi temple.

Tanks lobbed round after round with their double barrels alongside the rockets while troopers ran up and down the ramps to keep the autoloaders stocked with high explosive ammunition. The Hellion main encampment in the mountain was a buzz of activity as troopers moved around.

At the foot of the mountain, tanks lurched forward with trucks following close behind as they charged to their enemy with guns blazing. :: All Imperial forces, this is commander Katis of the Hellion division. Be advised, artillery has opened fire and troops are moving on the Maw’s right flank. :: Jas radioed to the Imperial commanders as he looked at his troopers.

Behind the visors, grins and excitement for war laid a soul dreading their future. All the big talk and cheers in the galaxy couldn’t calm their souls as they rode to meet the enemy. An enemy with a reputation known all around the galaxy. :: Attention all passengers! This is your captain speaking, if you look to your left you’ll see a swarm of terrified slaves marching to their doom. Weather seems to indicate a fine drizzle of hellfire and shelling, so do make sure to bring an umbrella! :: The intercom in the tank perked up with a cheerful voice. Jas glanced at the tank commander who flashed a quick wink at him, and it seemed that he had the same thought in his mind.

”Since when did the weather bother us, huh boys?!” He called out to his troops. ”Just remember, the more we shoot, the more we get paid. So let’s make sure we take a good payday home with us after this!” The cheers were reassuring, but even Jas was struggling to keep his mood up.

Something was very wrong in the Force today.

Looking at the holomap of what they currently had in terms of troop movements, Jas let out a long sigh. This was going to be a very bad day.

(ooc: if I got deets wrong or something, hit ya prawn up on Discord. Movements indicated on map)
 

Madison Starr

Guest
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Ruins of the Jedi Temple
Obj 1 - p3 - (p2 #123) - Silver Jedi Defender​
tldr - Jedi Knights reinforce the inner walls of the Jedi Temple Ruin against killer robots. Madison moves north to support Pact Heavy Teams counterattacking Mucknose's artillery from the mountains. Both sides exchange heavy weapons fire.​
Madison was sitting down in the inner hall of the Jedi Temple. Unbuckling her helmet and spitting upon the ground with distaste. She was covered in a metric kark ton in dust and debris from a recent bombardment. Destroying her gunner's nest and the advancing Terminator unit just underneath it too. Bleh! Gross. She was completely ash gray from head to toe in debris dust. And how she hated it. Ugh!​
She was busy cursing and rubbing her hair when a Pact Commander ventured through the hall at a terrible pace. She spit again and moved to followed him,​
"Yo! Tillman! Major! Hey, what are we doing about all the artillery and killer robots out there huh! Damn monkeys nearly blew up the whole north wall with those flame shells. Gackt."
"Save it Starr." He rushed to outpace her, "Jedi reinforcements just showed up and San Tekka is out there right now with them. We'll reroute some Jedi Knights to clear out the robot advance force and stop their rampage. Full stop. Unfortunately, I've got wounded and burned piling up downstairs and Thomas tells me we're all out of mag-stretchers. Oh. And besides, we sent out heavy teams to counter those monster guns with the recon walkers. They'll be ready any minute. You can probably hear the launchers from here. So cool it. Okay."
"Fine." She dusted off her pants as she rushed to follow him, "Then if you've got the robots covered with Knights and Power Armor, I'm going out there with the heavies. We'll make those turd artillery gunners wish they'd never been born. Ah! Blast."
She struggled to get some rubble out from her hair.​
"Damn it, Starr. You are the weirdest Jedi I've ever meet." The Pact Commander turned with a sudden stop. Shaking his head and pointed at her terrible appearance. "And hey. Just be glad that's just dirt in your hair and it wasn't one of those inferno rounds we've been taking. They don't shake off so easily."
Then the Commander scoffed and turned around. Almost running down into the ruins underground areas to check on the improvised med-bay. Leaving Madison Starr alone with her wounded ego and utterly dirty hair.​
"Fine. Pah! I'll go murder those animals myself. Eh. Killer robots be damned. I'm gunning for those shell monkeys! Bah. We'll see who's eating inferno rounds before the day is done. Grrr."
She turned on dime and snatched up a nearby sniper rifle from the ground. Snorting the dust off her shoulders with an angry sigh and heading for the vehicles.​
. . .​
Two minutes later and Starr was dismounting a speeder bike along the north cliff face. Overlooking the Maw Artillery. They were already engaged with the enemy and exchanging heavy cannon fire and missiles. Both to, and fro. She almost staggered as an enemy missile exploded below the path she was trudging. Damn it. Just the sound alone up here was cacophonous enough. She wanted to puke. Bleh!​
"Fine! Far enough then!"
She jumped into the crater left by the missile just as another enemy munition flew on past. Her environment was still sizzling with hot debris. Luckily enough. She almost blended right in. Dirty as she was. No need for face paint or a ghillie suit here.​
"Eat this dog breath..."
She aimed down the sights of her sniper rifle and settled into a comfortable prone position. Alas. She only had five shots.​
Well. It would have to be enough. She smiled, then pulled the trigger.​
. . .​
"WHOOOOO!"​
Somewhere down there on a Maw Skiff. A very shiny designated spotter was looking right up at the mountain cliffs that assaulted him. Staring right into the explosions. Left. Right. Up. Down. Surrounded by them, really. Explosions so bright and shiny that he was almost half blind just from the friendly fire alone. Wahoo. He screamed with delight. As both sides exchanged missile fire with reckless abandon.​
"WHOOOOOO! Look at them g...! Ack!!"​
He almost finished that sentence before a red sniper bolt caught him right between the eyes.​
SPLASH​
Now he was deck paint. Eww. Gross. But uh... At least he almost got the paint color right too. Blood and rust, yeah? Just how the Maw like it eh? Good combo.​
Nice.​
The exterior decorating continued. The bombardment between the two sides raged on.​
 
will you sink down to me?
JD-post.png

Objective: III ~ Head of the Snake
Allegiance: GA / NJO allies
Location: en route to Akar Kesh
Tag: Judah Lesan Judah Lesan Zachariel Steelblood Zachariel Steelblood


The Force-derived mist was gone as quickly as it had came the moment Damsy rematerialized, leaving the battlefield obscured only and to a lesser extent by gunfire smoke and vehicle exhaust and dust. Through a bit of the first, her trident-saber hit its target; she was recalling it into her hand when Judah's voice sounded in her head.

<< “I’m Judah by the way. We might make a nice team after all.” >>

Schutta, we might?! she telepathed back. Number one, what did she just do for him? Number two, what had he done for her? If their relationship was in fact teamwork, she was pulling both of their weight so far.

With a wordless war cry of her own, she spun around on her heel and flourished her staff to block a volley of blaster bolts trained on her. She unlatched a hand from the handle and threw her own lightning bolt at a marauder before grabbing at the fabric of the Force and upturning it over him, throwing him lengthwise on top of his squadmates, smoldering from his shoulder.

"Come you faithless curs, face me and die! You shall not pass us, only die at our hands! For the Avatars, for the Bloodsworn, for the Blood God!"

The siren's head snapped towards the voice's source, but it was hidden somewhere on the bloody horizon and all that she could see were the incoming waves of enemies, rippling like heat waves in the desert. For the record, I have no idea wha' she's on 'bout, Damsy commented to Judah. The rage in the siren's voice had subsided in favor of sincerity if not also urgency. If to not be Bloodsworn was to be faithless, Damsy was fine with missing out on this kind of salvation.

"Grotthu!!!" she shouted in realspeak but aided in projection by the Force, attempting to address those slaves in the Bloodsworn's ranks. She rose her arms into the largest wingspan she could manage. "My name is Darth Syreni but I ain't like yo masters! You don't 'aveta do this! Join me an' be free!"

Then, the sky split with a boom.

And the earth answered:

"Hâsk jiaasen!!!"
"Hâsk jiaasen!!!"
"Hâsk jiaasen!!!"

The advancing squads ground to a halt. An excited shiver ran through the humanoid wall in the empyrean. They were doing something. Damsy squinted, not trying to make it out but to think up what it might be. That's ur-Kittât, she thought to Judah through their mental link, for... A pause. 'Anguish' somethin'. She was unfamiliar with the entire phrase. It sounded like a compound phrase, but she could only suss meaning out half of it. Why had it made them stand their ground?

The humid air answered the question for her, wafting the scent of fresh blood to her specialized squaloid senses a moment before the rush began anew.

Judah, be careful! she exclaimed. I don't know what they doin'! Hopefully he believed her.

Damsy stepped backwards off the top of the car, trying to make herself a less obvious target. Her trident-saber fell among the grass and muck as she motioned both hands in telekenesis. The vehicle's metal frame groaned and shuttered, shaking free clods of soil as it stirred like a rousing bantha, responding to Damsy's willpower.

I can cause 'nother distraction, she suggested, if you find us a way outta dodge. There probably wasn't one right this instant, but when one presented itself, their eyes had to be peeled.

  • Offered the Bloodsworn slaves a chance at freedom
  • Tried to translate the ur-Kittât chant
  • Started feeling overwhelmed
  • Attempting to throw a car at the Bloodsworn
 
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