Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Annihilation Shatterpoint | BotM Annihilation of GA Held Tython



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Allies: Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser Celeste Rigel Celeste Rigel Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor Tracyn Ordo Tracyn Ordo Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka | Team Lightside
Enemies: Ardana Vorco Ardana Vorco (engaging) Darth Libertas Darth Libertas (in vicinity) | Team Darkside
Location: Ruined Temple


The battle was joined now in full, with the Jedi strike teams of Vanagor and Starchaser converging on the temple ruins. Blasters were fired point-blank, lightsabers clashed, and fists were thrown. It was a complete brawl, one that the towering Valkyri was more than suited for; Thurion's fighting style more often than not incorporated jaw-breaking punches and bone-crushing grapples, utilising his superior physical strength and size to his advantage. Besides this, it was also the less lethal way to take down an opponent for a man who abhorred killing if he could help it.

"I don't drink caf," he called back to Caltin while lifting another enemy off his feet and throwing him into a nearby tree with such force it uprooted and fell over, crushing several others. "Wife's tried to warm me up to it for ages, still can't stand it!"

As yet another Mawite charged him, the Jedi Master summoned into his palm his ignited saber still buried in the chest of a previously felled foe just in time to sever the raving madman's hands clean off, following up on the swipe with a roundhouse to his chest, sending him flying.

By now he'd caught glimpse of someone he never would have expected to see ever again, and as he held another enemy in a painful joint lock he was stunned to realise it was truly him. "Tracyn! What are you--" He gave it a good snap, pulling the poor sod's arm out of its socket and letting him drop naturally to the ground before finishing him off with a stomp to the throat.

But before he and Tracyn had the chance to reunite in earnest, another made their sinister presence known. An older woman, from the looks of it, but one unmistakingly aligned with the dark side. Didn't take a genius to figure out which side she was on. She called him out, specifically.

He turned to Tracyn, patting him on the shoulder as he bid him good fortune. But then he added something so cryptic that again served to give him pause.

"Asha...?"

This wasn't the time to stop and find out what Tracyn had meant by that, for the battle soon separated the two as Thurion faced the Sith Lord, azure lightsaber at his side. The two carved out their own little arena amidst the chaos, circling one another like two predators awaiting the opportune moment to strike.

"You have me at a disadvantage, Lady Sith," he replied, offering a slight bow of his head while holding her corrupted gaze without fear. "The Brotherhood will not succeed. By attacking Tython, you've just united every Jedi faction in the galaxy where before there was disunity."

Thurion would then assume the wide stance of Form V long since mastered, lightsaber at the ready. "Ladies first."
 
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Allies: Light Side, specifics tagged in post
Enemies: Dark Side, specifics tagged in post

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For Light and Life.

As a Wayseeker, Coren held to a Jedi Code that was more his own, and he hated to admit it, but maybe was seeing the light in the way of the Je'daii. A balance of sorts. He would not use dark side magicks, but there were places where balance was more important than the light or the dark. But this world? No, this world was a focal point of the light. The warm hum of his blade in his hand reminded him of just what he was. A Sentinel. A protector.

In the Force, he was sending out the flare that could only be a Jedi Master of his focus and intensity. It was going to attract attention, but he needed it. He needed to help bolster his brother in arms Cotan and Asha Vynea. He could feel his long time comrade Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka and was throwing support that way, for as long as he was not engaged, he would be offering support to the Jedi he wasn't right around.

That was what he learned by being a wayseeker, following the footsteps of @Old Man Merrill.

"Watch yourself too, Celeste. I'm just trying to find… everyone."
The darkness was going to cause strain if he held this up while in a fight, but he could do so much now. There were others here, including Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor who he was reaching to, to bring into the meld, to share strength and focus. The mind in his now was different, it was someone else. It was a warrior.

The names of Orders past, of Jedi who have passed on. With Thurion Heavenshield Thurion Heavenshield in the meld, along the others, and the old timer of Tracyn Ordo Tracyn Ordo , the Jedi, the Forces of Light could win this day. Of this he had no doubt.

"Stopped for some, just forgot your cup in the ship. So lets make sure we keep this world so you can get your cup."
Deflecting a bolt and moving to engage an incoming Knight of the Sith. A blast of Force Light and a swing of the blade and Coren knew that he was going to have no issues on these Knights. But something was out there… waiting.

This galaxy was always on the brink of chaos. Some of it was not his problem, was beyond his concern save for the preservation of life. But some? Some he needed to combat with the true unbridled ferocity of a Jedi. "We need to get through to the Temple. I feel they are planning something there." He called out to his little strike team.

There was the presence of Darth Libertas Darth Libertas nearby. He could feel it, but not who. The world was chaos, the storms caused by the Force… they were not friendly. But the glows of blues and greens around him were reflective of the cool and natural process that was going to survive, that was going to win out.

Turning as a blast of Force Lighting hit him, he could feel his cybernetic arm trying to deal with the electrical load, as he swung his saber to intercept some of the lightning, his hand going up to pull the rest of it into a tutaminis fueled absorption only to be redirected downward and out, as a strike of repulse erupted from Coren.
 


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DON BELKORA
COMPNOR
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Rika Hiro Rika Hiro Darth Ptolemis Darth Ptolemis
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Don thought this fething brat as he rolled his eyes at Rika's question and turned his attention to the rest of the men present, standing to while using a rope on the over hangar for balance.

"Righteo boys and... girl, we got a real badass down up the ends of that mountain, creatures got a natural proclivity towards force magic and ain't gonna hesitate to turn you into paste or sic his beasts on you."

He spoke matter of fact and straight to the point; being rough cut and honest was his trademark, unlike his colleagues who were more proper and spoke with all the cadence of a comm system. Don was of the streets, not the academy where many compnor brats hailed from; he was a real one.

"The plan is to split into two assault teams, A team will ascend direct will elements of B team will secure the flanks and guard transport until time for evac is given."

All of the men were solid fighters and field agents, veterans of many a hit job and operation under the auspices of Belkora himself. He wasn't one to worry or doubt their mettle, but he did wonder how Hiro was gonna cope in the coming hours.

"Strap up and be ready to depart in 5 minutes you animals."

Belkora then looked at Rika and took his sunglasses off.


"You especially kid."
 
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SERGEANT GAVYN BERAND
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
IMPERIAL SPECIAL FORCES 'STORM COMMANDOS'
ATTACHED TO 501st LEGION, SCAR SQUADRON
TYTHON, 876


Objective: Capture or destroy Alliance supply train
Allies: Hal Vaiken Hal Vaiken | Lily Stevens
Enemies: Gaaraddik Gaaraddik
Gear: Storm Commando Armor | Rifle | Pistol | Vibroknife | Grenades and other explosives

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As the trio of Imperial operators waited for their target to appear before them, Gavyn could help but wonder -- not for the first time in recent weeks -- what the fuck his superiors were thinking.

After the destruction of the 117th on Noris, Gavyn had been promoted to Corporal; at that point he volunteered to enter the Storm Commando selection process, spending much of the next year going through a grueling training process. He succeeded where many others failed, and became a Storm Commando. He was among the elite of the elite, able to strike at the Empire's foes in the most important areas.

For some reason known only to those highest up the chain, command had seen fit to distribute the Storm Commandos throughout Imperial ground forces as a sort of force multiplier, rather than permit them to operate in their own units. Gavyn, in that sense at least, had gotten lucky. He'd been assigned to a team with two SCAR Special Forces troopers and given a task actually suited to special forces. He'd heard of SCAR before and during the selection process. They were unique, but extremely efficient, deadly, and good at what they did. There would be no room for slacking around them, and Gavyn would permit none of himself.

The mission itself, however, was what made him wonder at what the commanders knew that he didn't. He would have much preferred to be going toe-to-toe with the Maw once more, avenging those who fell on Noris and driving the mad cultists back to whatever hole they crawled out of. Instead, they'd been assigned to to hijacking a train of Alliance supplies for the Imperial war effort, or in the worst case, blowing the damn thing up so no one got it. The Alliance was a problem, one that they would have to deal with sooner or later. If they and the Maw could both be dealt with here on Tython, all the better. Gavyn wasn't sure that was possible, but perhaps it was; he wasn't one to say one way or another. He'd really just hoped to be fighting the Maw, not robbing a train.

No matter. They had orders and a job to do, and that's what Gavyn was going to do.

He ignited his repulsor pack and leapt after the other two operators, soaring through the air and landing on the roof of the train. He activated his mag-boots, ensuring he wouldn't fly off, and swept the roof with his rifle. When no one popped their heads up after a few moments, he spoke. "Looks clear. Proceeding to breach?"
 

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Equipment: Wolf Lead
Allies: GA
Enemies: MAW
Tags: Khione Khione
What the hell!

Ari was absolutely loss in the mess that was happening. It was always expected that this battle would be a massive mess, but Tython was surrounded by a hailstorm of fire. This was going to take a little bit more to survive for her squadron than Foerost did. Trimming her ship for maximum maneuverability, Ari immediately launched herself into the battle, joining a group of interceptors moving in to attack the Maw's fighter screen and punch a hole for further attacks on this Avatar of War.

"Nemesis Squadron, Engage immediately. I want everyone in tight formation with their elements. Keep in groups of three and keep off of each other. Stay together." Rolling her A-wing into a dive, Ari immediately broke formation and started to weave into the crossfire, loosing a spread of laser cannon bolts at the oncoming fighter screen.
 
Faith is the heroism of the intellect.
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“No matter how weak you are, you will always have a way to be strong, you just have to find it!- Anonymous


Feel good about that, a friend turned me on to it, especially iced. I curse her existence every time I take that first sip and laugh.

He could still joke, even if he was not sure whether Thurion Heavenshield Thurion Heavenshield got it or not. Another, a guy by the name of Tracyn Ordo Tracyn Ordo wasn’t far away.

Eyeing a battle droid approaching, the big man closed his eyes and slowly the war machine decelerated to a stop and rotated one hundred-eighty degree before firing on its own mechanical compatriots and troops. Slowly yet definitively the weaponry swept across the plains and cut down anyone that was Final Dawn or Maw oriented. This was of course thanks to the efforts of the massive Jedi Master who (through the Force) reached into the controls and not only changed the IFFs but increased the fire rate of the weapons.

“#Do not fire on this unit! This unit is not in control of its own actions!#” The voice modulator called out as the Maw Forces not finding cover turned the battle droid to scrap metal. Caltin just grinned as he prepped himself for the next round of fighting already coming in. There were no two ways about it, this was not going to end, but now they were getting a footing again. Leverage could be applied more easily. Two assassins, why is it always “2”? Two assassins made an attempt in the confusion to take him down. They were good with their lightsabers, one attacking high, the other attacking low, both at the same time and with different angles. He should have been dead, but Caltin was not as good with a lightsaber pike as he was with a single blade.

He was better.

A pike, or “Double-Bladed Saber” at least in this instance as the design at this extension was borrowed from the Jedi Temple guards is designed to “clear the room” when used properly. Whether gracefully with the finesse of a dance, or brutally with the power of a hurricane it was a weapon. Where the big man would try to twist and contort his body to dodge one blow as he blocked the other with a single blade, the massive Jedi Master blocked both at the same time with a double. Changing the grip to enable a clockwise spin broke the grips of the other attackers and they backed away, trying again. He was fluent in his moves with the blades but more so with his brutish kicks and punches.

After several failed attempts, the duo took another dual attack attempt only this time it would not only probe a failure but would be their downfall. A “half-moon” defense, a Soresu technique forced the blood-red blade of the first attacker high, a rotating spin and drive stabbed the permafrost side of his weapon into the other, sending her to the ground as he continued with the “white/blue/purple” blade that cut through the body of the Acolyte, taking his life. Grasping on side of the saber and letting it lay and rest against his arm, the massive Jedi Master started to powerwalk towards the next target to which his eyes locked onto.


Taking a deep breath, the big man pulled himself together and let the energy build up-flow outward to the skies. Within moments, things changed, not visibly but auditorily, there was more of a tense feel to the air as more and more the pressure built up. The massive Jedi Master himself did not stop battling just because of what he was doing through the Force. A rather large Dark Knight was trying to make his life miserable, flanked by two assassins. One of them he took down rather quickly, grabbing the armor-clad individual by the neck and squeezing the plating, forming it tightly around the throat brought difficulty breathing. The Assassin fell like a sack of bricks. This would not last, even an Apprentice could pull this plating off eventually, but he needed air to do so.

A strong front kick to the chest sent the other Apprentice backward until it was just the Jedi Master and the Dark Knight. A backfist into the Sith’s face was the result of eating the Dark Warrior’s roundhouse kick. From one of the Apprentices, a blocked saber cut was delivered followed by a redirected slash. That slash was redirected right into the neck of the Dark Knight, killing him.

The shock caused one Apprentice to run in fear and the other to be dropped from a stab wound to the chest.

Catching his breath, the big guy moved closer to the group, as did his compatriots. They were outnumbered, more by the minute and it was going to only get worse the more they did little. They were dropping in not to defeat, or overrun but to hold them there, it was becoming increasingly more
Transparent as to what was happening and that meant that there needed to be a way that the group could move, just needed an opening, something that will punch a hole large enough for them to push their way through.

Watch the skies.

Suddenly, almost on cue, powerful bolts of lightning slammed into the ground, sending troops and battle droids flying. Each strike looked to be random, but also precise all at the same time. Bolt after bolt rained down, hammering Maw forces, each of them engulfed in energy, in power. Not the power of the Dark Side, but pure, unfiltered explosive electrical power. They might survive, they might not, this was one of the terribly few times that he did not care either way.

Let’s move.



TAG Allies:
Cotan Sar'andor Zark San Tekka Celeste Rigel Romi Jade Romi Jade Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser @Asmunder Varobalder Justice Lesan Justice Lesan Thurion Heavenshield Thurion Heavenshield Tracyn Ordo Tracyn Ordo Asha Vynea
 

The Grassy Plains of Tython -- En-Route to Je'daii Temple
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Track & Aide Master Jax Thio l Defend Tython from Sith
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Jax Thio Cear'bhaill Cear'bhaill



Anneliese had several dreams that evening and all were unsettling, her form tossing and turning, but upon coming too, she couldn't help but awaken feeling devoid of energy. Groggily sitting up, trying to shake the cold of the morning Anneliese began to move, making her way out of the crudely pitched tent that her Master and her had made; speaking into the crisp morning air, as she stood, she called out for Jax. "Master Thio? Master Thio?" Scanning the horizon of the grassy plains, a pit would begin to form in the far depths of her stomach. Storms formed into the far horizon of Tython, and something sinister filled the air and permeated every living thing, something twisted and malignant… like a cancer. The Sith were here — the battle that would decide the fate of the very planet had begin… and, to make matters worse, she couldn't sense Jax near her, he had left her, and gone ahead to fight them… she knew it. There wasn't any other explanation. She recalled their spat from the day prior, was all that was said just a ruse to get her to shut up? Her fists balled up as tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to spill forth… she yelled out into the empty plains. "Is this what you do? Abandon me like everyone else when the going gets tough?I just got you as my Master you bastard!! Why?!? Why won't you let me fight?!?!!" The tears overcame their barriers as they flowed down into her cheeks, her hands coming up as she tried to clean them away but they still came, but knowing in her heart, this wasn't why he left. He left to protect her, because he cared... because he felt she truly wasn't ready.

Years upon years she had been so alone. Life had dealt her an unsavory hand, but still -- she always pushed ahead, never one just to give up or give in. When other students were chosen for Padawanships, Anneliese stood quietly in the back clapping, and congratulating... but never recognized herself. When other students left the fields of training to go rest and relax, she pushed for one more minute of practice.... on more form, one more. The day she began to receive assignments, a hope that had petered out into nothing but a smoldering ember that she fanned daily, began to blaze and consume everything in its path once again at the sheer hope that someone, somewhere was looking at her as a prospect... and the day the Council of the Order assigned her to Jax, was the best day of her life... but once again, it was overshadowed by something far bigger than her. To be a Jedi meant to be selfless in the line of duty, to put ones own life in front... but there was a nagging and gnawing anger, the word 'unfair' coming into play as she stood overlooking the fields. She chucked slightly, not in humor, but in bitter anger as she wiped her face once again, the tears beginning to dry up. She wasn't going to let this define her, she wasn't going to say life gave her a hand and she simply folded because she didn't like it... no, she was going to play it to the best of her advantage. She would push, because it pushed first. She would fight, because it called her too. She would get up, no matter how many times she felt knocked down... this was who Anneliese was, and who she was becoming.

Feeling like a small child, Anneliese tried her best to compose herself. Speaking while searching for resolve as she did so. "I am a Padawan…. I am, a Padawan." Her breathing began to come back into steady rhythm as she began to focus on steadying her mind, she had to calm down. Reciting the code, once more, like a youngling she spoke aloud, as if to some person.

"Ashla, help me to remember who I am, help me to be — brave.

Flowing through all, there is balance. There is no peace without a passion to create. There is no passion without peace to guide."
Inhaling a shaky breath, she exhaled even deeper. "Knowledge fades without the strength to act. Power blinds without the serenity to see. There is freedom in life. There is purpose in death." Many people fought for the fate of Tython today, she would be one of those. "The Force is all things and I am the Force"

She opened her eyes, tears still within them, now however, two jade emeralds ablaze with purpose, resolve and fervor that would not be matched easily. "I went this long on my own… and I'll keep pushing. I will find you Master, I will find you and show you I can do." Wasting no time now, as felt she had already wasted enough as it was, Anneliese unbuckled the straps to her outfit and dressing down, neatly rolling her saber, and pouches into a neat roll, as she now stood in the open plains exposed. The wind blew against her cheeks as she stared off into the distance... this field, this place, wasn't quite like home, but for the first time in a long time the young woman felt closer to her home than she ever had. Her body grew hotter as visble lines steam would bellow off her form and the sickening cracks of joints reforming would fill the air as her body began to lurch forwards onto the ground, her groans heard. It was like a rebirth. Her vision darkened, and then a light would appear almost as if in the end of a tunnel. What felt like sheer crawling time, would happen in just the blink of an eye to others, and what stood once was a young female, now, stood a lone and pround amber colored wolf. Scratching at the ground and feeling the wind in her pelt, her snout would raise as she let out a gnarled growl and then howled to the skies of Tython… she was ready. Grabbing the clothing which had been neatly rolled up into her canine mouth, Anneliese raised her noise into the air. Jax, had made one simple mistake — well, several. He'd left her out, now she was a scorned woman, she would make her point, blessing or not…. And, Anneliese loved nothing more than a good old fashioned hunt. His scent came into frame as her stilted iris's narrowed.

Crouching down, her muscles contracting like a gun ready to go off, Anneliese would then take off at inhuman speed as the large wolf and its predatory like claws would tear at the ground rushing off into the direction where his scent led, she was coming, and she hoped she would be able to make a difference. She had too.
 

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The Temple Ruins
Location: Tython, Jedi Temple Ruins
Tags: Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka | Madison Starr

  • Mucknose and co claim a few walker kills
  • The sniper-Jedi kills Eyeshine
  • A volley of thundahvelins is hurled in the sniper's general direction
  • The Scar Hound infantry catches up and begins its march on the Jedi Temple ruins

Mucknose didn't even realize he was screaming until he stopped shooting. The thunderous discharges of the E-WEB cannon, bolt after bolt streaking toward the Jedi's weird leggy transport, completely covered the noise issuing from his throat. He only let go of the heavy trigger when the Jedi did something truly bizarre, even by Jedi standards: he managed to jump his walker over the skiff. Mucknose only noticed the tail end of his own panicked howl, because the sight that followed rendered him utterly speechless an instant later.

The Jedi seemed to move in slow motion as he sailed over the terrified auxiliary's head, as if he was some holovid valkyrie with a flaming sword and a winged steed. The Messy Blighter was a pretty tall war skiff (there was no such thing as a standard war skiff, and they varied greatly in height and width and general shape), and the guy passed close enough over Mucknose to ruffle the gunner's long, greasy hair. Something warm and wet trickled down his pants, and for a moment he thought the Jedi must've gutted him with his laser-sword.

But no, it was a different bodily fluid at play.

An entirely understandable one when facing a Jedi!

The weird (and now damaged) scout walker managed to land on its feet, if not particularly elegantly; either Mucknose, the sudden leap, or some combination of the two had fethed up its leg servos, and it "walked" like the auxiliary did after a particularly successful bender. "Withdraw!" the Jedi shouted from atop his now-awkward steed, pointing his lightsaber in a dramatic, holosculpture-worthy pose. Mucknose wasn't quite sure whether he was telling the Mawites to turn back, or if he was leading his own forces in a retreat.

Probably the latter, because the scout walkers turned and headed for the treeline. Big Rûg, the Gundanbard artillery loader, had taken the E-WEB missile launcher beside Mucknose's repeater cannon, and he managed to hit one of the withdrawing walkers as it fled. A very pleasing plume of orange flame and black smoke went up from the impact, and bits of its former occupant rained down all around the wreckage. One of the other skiffs got another one, and several more took glancing blows on the way out. Had they... surely not...

... had they actually run the Jedi off?

"WHOOOOO!" shouted the ever-excitable Eyeshine, watching the retreat from his position at the skiff's prow. "WHOOOOOO! Look at them g..." But he never finished that triumphant exclamation, because at that instant his head turned to a fine red mist. "SNIPER!" Mucknose yelled, throwing himself behind the bulky Maser barrel they'd never finished fitting to the cannon mount. War skiffs, unfortunately, were open-topped, with no room belowdecks to protect the crew from attacks such as this. There was nowhere else he could hide.

Feth it all. Eyeshine had been a damn good spotter.

He'd also owed Mucknose fifty credits.

Now a well-trained force of specialists might have tried to pinpoint the sniper's location, used decoys to check the angle of fire, perhaps broken out their rifles for some counter-sniping. But the Maw had a tendency to default to blunt instrument in a pinch, especially when they had the firepower for it. So rather than ping away with rifles, the crews of the remaining LuchsHai technicals threw out a withering barrage of incendiary and concussive thundahvelins up in the general direction of the hillside that the shot had come from.

The sniper couldn't hide in cover if they blew all the cover up.

Meanwhile, Mucknose covered his head with his hands - as if that would do anything at all - and whimpered quietly. Something weird was happening to Eyeshine's body, the runes that the Heathen Priests had told them all to paint on themselves glowing white-hot for an instant before fading to spent, blackened lines. Mucknose did not want to find out what that was about. "Get us out of here, Slim!" he begged the Weequay captain, and apparently either Slim or the Avatars heard his desperate request. Maybe both.

The Messy Blighter zoomed forward, toward the temple ruins.

Time to reposition and hit the shields again.

In the meantime, the Scar Hound infantry was catching up to their fast-moving armor. As always, a wave of eager and reckless Marauder Aspirants led the charge, the freshly-painted runes on their faces and bodies glowing in the light of explosions detonating against the outpost shields. Behind them came the more disciplined ranks of the Tarar Warbands, scavenger-warriors who laid down wild but deadly volleys of plasma fire. And scattered among them, directing the attack, were veteran Scav Kings in their mighty battleframes.

The Alliance shield would not prevent their march.

It was time for close combat.
 
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Objective 1/3
Tags: Ingrid L'lerim Ingrid L'lerim | Judah Lesan Judah Lesan | Damsy Callat Damsy Callat
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​


Zachariel snorts once more at her words. There is truth there, in most situations her words would hold true. Perhaps Solipsis had simply been in the right place at the right time, and yet he had still done more with that power than any other. It was two very different things to organize something, and to follow through and succeed. And few could say the Brotherhood hadn't succeeded in their goals. The dozens of worlds and systems conquered would attest to that, the countless more burned in the name of the Avatars was ample proof.

Tython was the last world in that string of bloody assaults. It may be the last one for them, but it would be a glorious end. And should they survive, then they would continue on as they had. Any who had fought them, knew them, would understand only their utter destruction would stop the Brotherhood. Watching Ingrid, he saw that she finally understood. Perhaps it had been how he'd expressed himself, or she could finally see the truth of the Brotherhood, of Zachariel himself.

The sorrow and grief in her voice made his eyes narrow. It confused him, made him suspicious. What did she know, or suspect, that he didn't? He had never hidden his beliefs from her, that of the strong ruling the weak, of the Avatars being true powers to be respected and followed. The further the Brotherhood pushed, the more this was proven to be true. They were led by a strong ruler, Solipsis, followed strong gods, the Avatars, and proved their strength in battle after battle.

"You have seen much, learned much, yet you're still blind." Laughing, he shakes his head. She hadn't seen enough. "No matter what you know, what you've seen and done, you still won't understand. Your power is great, the foes you've faced formidable. All have been overcome, beaten or escaped. But here and now, you will see. The Brotherhood is not one simple foe, the Avatars not one mere god, one belief system. They are more, and we are legion. The galaxy will run red with the blood we spill!"

Perhaps she would understand in time. The slaves of the Brotherhood were all equally brainwashed, the marauders all trained and then specialized in their warbands. The higher up the totem pole one went, the stronger the individual became. Strength ruled over all else. Where one fell, another would rise to take their place, leaving only the strong behind.
"Strength rules all Ingrid! Where one falls, another rises, and only the worthy continue on."

No one in the Brotherhood would ever admit how tenuous the alliances truly were, nor would any showcase this to others. So long as they had a leader to follow and an enemy to conquer, the Brotherhood would thrive. No matter the losses sustained, the enemies fought, or the battles won and lost, they would thrive. For no other reason than to ensure the strong would be there in the end. Whether this was the Brotherhood themselves, or another group.

"The galaxy is changing, it already has changed much. It will continue to change as time passes, we are simply the catalyst to bring about that change even faster. Should our goals succeed, the galaxy will be as decreed!"

All Mawites believed in the Scripture of the Hidden Maw. Above all believers were the Avatars, the Dark Gods of the Maw. In their name, the strong ruled and the weak served. They adhered to the dogma of the Avatars and the Brotherhood, following the words of the Heathen Priests. Of all the political and religious systems in the galaxy, the Brotherhood was one of the few that truly followed through in every aspect of who they were. Ingrid believed what was said to be a lie, but where was the lie? The Brotherhood followed the scripture, with every battle they changed the galaxy, forced that change on the non-believers.

Laughing loudly at Ingrid, the warlord of the Bloodsworn sneered. She may not enjoy what was about to happen, but he would. The strong ruled, the weak served, and the Brotherhood held true to its beliefs. He held true to his beliefs. And as her necklace was removed and they fought, that didn't change. Blade versus blade, will versus will, and centuries of experience on both sides brought them to fight. A blur to all but the two of them. Sword and axe versus daggers, the clang of the blades echoed around them, and each strike created sparks and one could see the air displaced.

Suddenly she pushed him back with the Force. And even that barely phased him, with him merely brushing it aside and slicing once more. Only, he cut through empty air. She had teleported once more, prompting him to straighten and twirl his blades about once more. He didn't look any worse for wear, despite what she had absorbed from him. There was simply too much death and destruction happening all around, he simply reabsorbed what was lost with the souls of others.

Watching her with wary eyes, he snorted as she spoke. He had suspected she would wish to speak once more, it's what always happened between them. In all their fights, they had spoken to one another in such a manner, between boughts of clashing blades. This was simply a more serious matter than those more light hearted fights. Twirling his blades once more, he snorts again. He is still a powerful warlord, a warrior and bladesman with a millennia and a half of combat experience. On top of that, he was a gen'dai. His confidence in the face of her words could be easily sensed.

That confidence didn't waver as she rebuilt the shattered skull, though disgust joined what he was feeling. She insulted the honor of that bounty hunter with such an act. Still, as it was floated to him, he held the skull in his hand, watching her as she spoke. He easily understood her words as an order, and scowled as he saw she still didn't understand. He hadn't lied, and she didn't believe him. Looking away from her and into the eye sockets of the bounty hunters skull, Zachariel's scowl deepened. Then his head shifted back to look at her, his rage evident as his lenses flared.

"I think... you underestimate me." With a single move, Zachariel crushed the skull once more. The skull had been lost in combat, an honorable end, even if it enraged him greatly. Moreover, he had been angered by the deliberate focusing of the skulls, rather than the loss itself. Rolling his shoulders in a false look of loosening them, he chuckled unamusedly. "This. Is. Paradise."

"I haven't lied my dear, not once. Should this ritual succeed, the galaxy will be torn apart by the forces at play. From this Force nexus to so many others, reality will break and bend to our will. Everyone will see the power we wield, the might we possess. And all our losses won't matter, because we succeeded." Spreading his arms wide, he laughs darkly. "THIS IS PARADISE INGRID! What comes after may be a lie, our souls merely devoured by the Avatars, or left to wander the Nether. But this? This is paradise. A galaxy at war, endless bloodshed, with the strong ruling and the weak following." His arms lower as he focuses on Ingrid. "If I must work with Sith to accomplish this, so be it. Once our goals are achieved, I will cast them aside, or be cast aside. Regardless, we will have succeeded. I will have succeeded."


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Bolts and slugs tore through the air, vehicles rumbled about, grenades were thrown, and orders shouted. The battlefield was chaos, but as chaotic fanatics, the Brotherhood thrived in such situations. Despite that, they were still being pushed back, still failing to hold off the attackers. Squads were constantly shifting, moving up or down the area, taking cover where they could, or charging where they couldn't. Every inch taken would be a bloody battle, a price paid for in droves. It mattered little who paid the price, so long as it was paid.

Above them, Maeve made sure that price was paid in full. Each life spent was spent to the best of that life's abilities, as many as possible died in a fitting manner to the Bloodsworns ways. But her cries and taunts were finally answered, prompting the Chosen to turn towards Judah and Damsy's voices. In response to what they said, she laughed, prompting the Bloodsworn followers to as well. In particular, the slaves laughed loudest. Theirs were sad, wheezing laughs. Their minds were broken, almost nothing of their pasts remained. All that was left was the desire to serve their betters. So much so, that even if they had wanted to flee the Bloodsworn, they couldn't have.

Maeve herself replied to Judahs taunt, chuckling low before calling back.
"Unfortunately for you, no. I simply quote one of the many, many enemies the Jedi have failed to beat. We are simply another onto that ever increasing list!"

Then they continued on, following through with the ritual of the Dark Voice. Symbols now adorned their bodies, from heads to torsos, to other limbs for those more mechanical than not. Many had even drawn those symbols on the dead and dying, adding yet more souls to the ritual. Then, they had continued on with their charges, with the battle. With renewed vigor they struck, determination filling them fully. They may not all understood what the symbols meant, they still believed they were strengthened as a result. This fanaticism sent them over the edge of insanity, with cries to their gods on their lips.

Maeve herself had stepped even further forward, openly showing herself to anyone who would witness her. Raising her hammer, she roared with rage and hate, then lowered her hammer and pointed it towards the enemy, her roar never stopping. A tide of Bloodsworn rushed forth then, prayers to the Dark Gods on their lips. Weapons fire spat forth from them, blades were waved in the air, and on they rushed. In return, they had vehicles thrown at them.

With few Force users of their own, much less ones equal to a Jedi Master and Sith Lord. As such, nothing but blaster bolts and missiles shot towards the vehicles. This only aided the plan of Judah, who shattered the vehicles and sent forth a tide of shrapnel and smoke. Soon enough the rushing tide was engulfed, hardly visible to one another, much less those outside. Bloodsworn were crushed under the vehicles, others were torn apart by the shrapnel, and breathing became hard to some.

Of all this though, the Bloodsworn were least affected by the metal dust and shrapnel they were inhaling. Every Bloodsworn wore a mask of some sort, all in honor of their warlord Zachariel. Many of these masks had been converted from respirators, or into respirators. Those that hadn't, they were still protected from the worst of the smoke. Enough so that they continued to charge, even as those all around were cut down. They were driven ever further towards the enemy, towards Judah and Damsy. All of them sought worthy deaths, or to kill the foe.

Through the smoke came the Bloodsworn, the charging squads cut in half. Survivors were left severely wounded, often maimed. Yet they still charged on. Soon they neared the enemy, weapons already swinging and weapons firing. Squads moved as one to engage their superior enemies. Melee marauders rushed in first, while their ranged brethren opened fire from afar. All their attention was on Judah and Damsy, striking whenever and however they could. They wouldn't do much they knew, and still they charged on. One rallying cry sending them ever onward.
"For the Avatars of the Maw!"


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D A R A S U U M
K O T E

T H E M E

OBJECTIVE: Destruction of the Sith | Board the Avatar of War
ALLIES
ENEMIES

In front of them, red alarm lights blared as large durasteel blast doors came crashing closed. Romul stopped abruptly, before slashing his war axe at the door, apart from rage and part from the adrenaline rush of battle that was now denied from him. It created a massive rent in the durasteel surface, but otherwise, the blast doors held.

"They've caught on," Romul decided, breathing heavily as he turned to Gallius at his side. "Can we slice into the controls?"

Gallius shrugged, looking around. "No panels or wiring that I can see." Negative, then.

Romul grunted in frustration. This ship was part organic, and it reminded him too much of the Yuuzhan Vong. He'd fought their savage mutants on Kestri, too many times to count. They weren't right, they weren't natural, and this ship reminded him too much of them. "Call a Jorir to the front. We'll blast or cut our way through, it makes no matter."

Suddenly a whoosh of decompressurized air roared past him, and before he knew it he'd lost his grip and was flying backward. Stim heightened his reactions, though. "Vacuum!" He shouted, and the Mandalorians that heard him responded immediately. Jetpacks ignited, whipcords fired, magno-soles locked, every Mandalorian did everything they could to prevent themselves from being violently ripped into space.

Romul had grabbed onto an overhead metal rafter, his muscles straining against the force of the vacuum. Just when he felt that he couldn't hold on any longer, the vacuum dropped and he fell back to the metal surface of the hallway. Breathing heavily, he looked upwards to see the Shaman Runi Verin channeling her Force magicks. Instantly he knew that she was their savior in this scenario. Gathering himself, he checked to make sure his men were ok before retrieving his fallen war axe.

He nodded as Runi spoke. "Their lives are in your hands," he said somberly, as an unspoken understanding passed between the two. They both knew that for the moment, their duty would separate them. But Romul would meet this Shaman that he had a newfound respect for, whether it was in this life or in the embrace of the spirit of the Manda. "Now, WHERE IS THAT JORIR!?" He roared, back to business.

The heavy infantry commando in question hurried up, carrying a massive heavy blaster cannon. The Jorir wordlessly got to work, setting up a portable mount before spinning the barrel up. The weapon was designed to penetrate through the thickest of armors, and even capital ship-grade durasteel would fold to concentrated fire. Soon red-hot lasers were spewing from the laser cannon as the commando fired in a square pattern, slowly cutting through the dented blast door.

The blasterfire reflected crimson red and white on Romul's beskar'gam as he watched.

He raised his hand, and the Jorir ceased firing. The door hadn't been fully cut through, but its structural integrity had been weakened severely to the point of nonexistence. Romul hefted his war axe. "Once more, unto the breach," he sermonically declared as the Mandalorians lined up behind him. Then, with a massive heave of his war axe, he slashed through the door and the cut fell, ends red-hot, as they charged into the horde waiting for them.

Romul was at the front, a juggernaut that towered over even the most brutish Mawite savage. His war ax cleaved through them effortlessly. These Mawites were no weakling, no battle droid that folded to the slightest inflicted trauma. But with Romul were the best-trained Mandalorians in the galaxy, and they were simply not to be matched. Jorir heavy infantry rained down fire, mowing down entire legions with their heavy repeating blasters while they protected their fellow vod with large banner energy shields. The Rekr warriors were precise and lethal, efficiently eliminating their foes with blaster and beskad.

Next to them, the forces of Clan Saxon were less impressive. They did not have the elite training and experience of the Si'kayha supercommandos, but they were still products of Romul Saxon's hard training regimes, and they held their own easily enough. The trick with the air depressurization had been clever, but now that they were pushing into the hangar bay the Maw were discovering that numbers weren't everything. Though their lightning cannons were devastating at close range, the Enclave had their own plasmag rifles to answer with, spraying superheated plasma that melted through armor.

Death and bloodshed were everywhere. Maw losses were heavy, but Mandalorian casualties weren't nonexistent. Those that were injured were dragged back from the frontlines for Jikar medics to patch up as best as they can, but every warrior knew that they would either win or die aboard this ship. There was no med tent, there was no reprieve. What a bacta patch could not heal would have to be ignored. And there were some wounds too fatal for even the best combat medic to treat.

As Romul spearheaded his way through the Maw horde, they slowly made their way into the hangar itself, cavernous in comparison to the claustrophobic hallways. There, centered among the forces of the Maw, he saw the first face he recognized: Kralmus Orr Kralmus Orr , heretic and blood traitor. Rage filled his belly. That a Mandalorian would shed so much of his own people's blood was unspeakable heresy. Better men may have wished to capture Orr, but Romul only wished to see his head on a besragr.

"ORR!" He bellowed, and his challenge rang clear through the hangar despite the deafening tones of battle around them. Then, without a word, he drew upon the power of his Resa'geriuvr gauntlet, channeling the dark energies within, before hurling a massive force bomb into the horde of Maw. Should the spirit of the Manda shine on him, it would take out a sizeable force of Mawites within the hangar, and their commander with them.

Romul Saxon’s Warband
  • Aboard Boarding Pods
    • Clan Saxon Warriors [Several Hundred]
    • Si’kayha Commandos [Several Hundred]
  • Aboard Strike Frigates
Warfleet Canderous
LOSSES
Ships
  • 3 Ra'gr Assault Boarding Pods
Soldiers
  • 48 Warriors, Mixed Si'kayha/Clan Saxon [Aboard Boarding Pods]
  • Various Mandalorian Casualties


 
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Mando'ad draar digu


Objective: Board and assault the Avatar of War

Allies: Romul Saxon Romul Saxon | Fenn Stag Fenn Stag | Shakka Bralor Shakka Bralor | Runi Kuryida Runi Kuryida | Kaz Krayt | Gwyneira Vizsla Gwyneira Vizsla | Vulcan Krayt Vulcan Krayt | Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen | Domina Prime Domina Prime | Others

Enemies: Marlon Sularen Marlon Sularen | Kralmus Orr Kralmus Orr | SCAR SCAR | Others

Equipment: Si'kahya beskar'gam, Rekr variant, ENCL-16 Purity blaster rifle, ENCL-12 Repentance Blaster Pistol, Beskad, a variety of grenades



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"Approaching target. Brace for impact."

The droid voice sounded, informing the warriors in Varik's pod of their immanent arrival to the Avatar of War. Each member of the boarding party, which consisted of a few Si'kahya mixed in with Clan Awaud warriors, did as they were told. They braced themselves for the impact itself, and for the battle to come. Si'kahya though he was, Varik still held onto a certain amount of pride in his clan. They did not have the numbers of some of the larger clans, but they would fight as bravely, as fiercely, and as skillfully as anyone else in the Enclave. Of that, Varik had no doubt.

There was a massive metallic thud as the pod impacted with the side of the ship. Varik stood at the front of the boarding party, ready to be one of the first charging into the Mawite ship. He readied his rifle, then turned his head to the rest of his brothers and sisters in arms.
"Oya, Mando'ade! Oya!" he shouted. "Darasuum kote!" Their voices all responded in unison. "Darasuum kote!"

The nose of the pod split open, and the Mandalorians poured down the ramp and into the interior of the Maw ship. The chamber they entered had about a dozen Mawite soldiers, clearly caught off-guard by the sudden appearance of a group of yelling, battle-ready Mandalorian warriors. Varik charged from the pod, lowering his shoulder into the chest of one Mawite, barreling him over onto the deck. He raised his rifle and fired point-blank into the face of another who had been standing right next to the first. Plasma impacted with his face, and flesh and bone alike burned and sizzled as the cultist crumpled and fell. With one hand Varik reached up and retrieved the beskad from its sheath on his back, spun it into a reverse-hand grip, and drove the blade down into the chest of the man lying at his feet. At the same time a flurry of fire erupted from the barrels of Mandalorian weapons, filling the air with blaster bolts heading almost entirely in one direction. The Mawites scarcely had time to react; the Enclave soldiers made quick work of them, leaving them unharmed and in control of the room.

Varik replaced his blade, and his contingent gathered themselves before moving out. The enemy knew they were there now. The rest of the battle wouldn't be so easy.

They moved through the hallways of the ship, rendezvousing with other boarding parties on their level as they made their way toward their objective: the hangar bay. As they moved they encountered a number of closed blast doors, apparently sealed to slow their movement through the ship. That was to be expected, so they had more technically-minded warriors dealing with the doors as they went. It slowed them, but so far it would not stop them.

What was not entirely expected, however, was the sudden opening of airlocks. The lack of atmosphere presented less of an obstacle for most of them than the sudden explosive decompression that occurred whenever one of these opened. Varik had the misfortune of being somewhat near one of these airlocks when it suddenly slid open, exposing the party to the cold vacuum of space. He quickly engaged the magno-lock function on his boots, which allowed him to keep his footing and prevented him from flying away. Another man was not so lucky, and Varik watched him fly by just out of reach, crying out for help, unable to prevent himself from being swept out the airlock into space. Varik recognized him as one of those who had landed with him, a very young man, younger and more inexperienced than even he was. He seemed to be panicking, unable to right himself and too afraid to think straight.

Without another moment's consideration, the Si'kahya commando disengaged the magno-locks on the soles of his boots and leapt after the tumbling soldier. The two collided just short of the airlock's outer door, and Varik wrapped an arm around the young man as they passed beyond the threshold and into the vacuum of space just outside the ship. "I've got you, brother, I've got you," he reassured. Varik secured his hold and ignited his jetpack a dozen meters or so from the hull of the enemy vessel. The pair rocketed back in the other direction, passing once more through the opened airlock. "Your boot's magno-locks!" he shouted to the young warrior as they re-entered. They tumbled forward onto the deck, at last coming to a stop. Magnetic soles locked them to the ground, giving them the chance to stand once more and find their footing.

"Thank you, brother," the other man said at length, his voice straining as he fought back the panic that had gripped him only moments before. Varik nodded as the realization of just how reckless his own actions had been began to dawn on him. He reached out to the young man, one gauntleted hand clasping another. "Stay calm, vod. Stay focused. There's a lot of fighting left, and we need you."
There wasn't time to say much more. They had to keep moving.



 

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E M P E R O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
THE IRONCLAD

@Darth Caelitus | Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis | Jem Fossk Jem Fossk
Ryv Ryv | Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze | Corin Trenor Corin Trenor
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MUSTER EVERY FIBER
TYTHON
876 ABY​

His eternal adversary fell dead at his heels. As the life left Caelitus's mortal shell, so too did that permeating darkness leave the air around him. It was a clarity of thought and feeling in that moment as Rurik screw his eyes shut, slowly leaning his head back as he stood alone in one final moment of tranquility, his thoughts drowned of the sounds of distant chaos and suffering that had all but imprisoned the cradle of Ashla in its violent embrace before opening his eyes once more to view the spectre, the Force ghost of an old friend.

Vyrin Karis.

"It's been long since you were last here..." He remarked to his once apprentice, who was once a bright pupil wide eyed and cavalier with all the characteristic notes of a foolhardy Jedi padawan soon to be Jedi Knight now the metal visage ruthlessly guarding vulnerable, tortured form of the man beneath.

"It has..." Rurik said, recalling that very moment, turning from his ascent to peer over the once picturesque and perfect landscape now marred and beaten from the apocalyptic war that brought this world into the clutches of annihilation. But even still, in the wake of the death of the betrayer, Rurik stood at peace knowing well of the devastation around him, of the many death dealing weapons and arms from all the Galaxy that sought to prosper against him, he took in this respite.

"You left, a student...and you return...an Emperor. It is...interesting to see, as my once pupil...and friend, to see how far you've strayed...and how little you've changed." Vyrin said, offering a faint, endearing smile to the Man of Iron as he joined his side.

"You were then one of the very best of us, in my eyes at least. And even still, you stand to follow the Code better than most any I'd ever known, better than me." He iterated. Of all the things that Rurik would have ever expected to grace his senses, it would not be a remark of his ability to be a good Jedi. He'd long stood disillusioned with his once order- seeing the Jedi Code as a dictation of false virtues to which little of its adherents ever paid heed to. And yet, Rurik embodied most of their values even as the ideologue of the Empire.

He was without emotion, he was without any personal attachments to the world around him save for his Empire and he had remained resolute from the corrupting touch of darkness in spite of its countless attempts to seduce him into its clutches. He'd many times sacrificed his body for others and offered his guidance to those who'd strayed too close to chaos many times before, the fallen man behind him being one of many examples. Beneath a different mask, under different conditions- he might've been the best of them, of the Jedi.

But he stood for something, which he saw in his eyes, greater than what he saw as a suicidal whirlwind of dark and light.

Order.

"I know...there is little to nothing I can do to pull you from the path you've gone down, Rurik. And I sense a feeling of what you are soon to do here, this day, on Tython. A rendezvous with your destiny. I can sense him, he's waiting for you." Solipsis.

Naturally, Rurik could sense him as well and he offered a nod once in understanding to Vyrin's statement.

"I have faced him several times, master. I could not best him then..." Rurik admitted earnestly, as if it wasn't an established fact. It was perhaps, the first he'd ever admitted weakness or mortality in the eyes of another.

"You failed because you stood alone, then. Ever stubborn now as you were under my tutelage. You will not be alone now. There are others before him...they may be able to fend him off, but without your...without your help- they're doomed. If you do anything this day on my behalf, Rurik-." Rurik snapped his gaze back to Vyrin and interrupted him with his next words.

"I know what needs to be done." He stated.

"Then do it..." Vyrin said, a snap of urgency in his tone before he eased back.

"May the Force be with you, Rurik. Always." He said, nodding once before the spectral vision faded before Rurik's unwavered gaze. He then turned to look up the mountainside once more, narrowing his gaze as he honed his vision in on the temple at its peak.

His fate awaited him.

His ascent was a slow, pace at first, his leather boots beating into the stony earth beneath as he raised his gloved hand embedded with his comlink to his face.

"Lord General..." He spoke, his voice was enough to identify him to the Woad DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran , neglecting the need for any callsigns.

"Relay to the others at The Betrayer has been slain and that Solipsis is next. Until otherwise spoken by me and me alone, you have command of the Empire, not merely its army, The Empire. Whatever you need will of it to achieve victory this day...do it. I care not for the cost, our will be done this day. Ave Empire." He said before he snapped his line of communication closed and continued to scale the mountain before him, his path differing from the carved staircase and offering a far more abrasive route split from the no doubt stiff resistance of mortal life that Solipsis had placed between him and Fel.

The closer he got, the more the throes of darkness embraced the space around him. As soon as he entered its grounds proper, his argent blade snapped to life only to view two of Solipsis's adherence mutilate themselves and collapse in sacrifice to the great ritual being conducted by their master. His eyes widened at the sight before he continued his advance.

And soon enough, at Solipsis's beckon and Corin and the approach toward him, a violent burst of Force power would rip into the chest and
emerging from the shadows, the Man of Iron stood himself before the bringer of apocalypse once more, hoping to draw the full focus and attention of the Sith'ari toward him.

"Your Hand has been severed, Demon."

He said, holding his arms out in all but taunting gesture, the very same one would use to step into the form of the Vornskr.

"Nothing more lies between you...and me. And today...you die."
 
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//: Darth Mori //: Darth Daiara Darth Daiara //:

On wings of hope, you rise up through the night


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Seven years.

Everything continued for seven years, the dark side never resting. Foolishly, the spy had figured they would burn out, find something better to do or begin to consume each other. It was a rare occurrence that the dark side remained organized enough to continue to crusade, burning planets the way they had been.

Reaching up, delicately worn fingers pulled the fabric from her face, allowing the thick air to trickle against her skin. The planet felt the agony of the chaos polluting the Force energy around it. Tython didn't feel welcoming. Its force balance skewed back and forth, causing a strain that even a lame force-sensitive could feel in waves. Being one of those lacking in the Force, Allyson struggled to breathe, gasping for air as her back pressed against the bark of a gnarled tree. The dark side's influence was already showing, the planet itself giving in, no longer wanting to fight - or unable to.

Seven years she had run.

She had pretended there was nothing more than her desires for seven years.

For seven years, she ignored duty.

The former Counselor pushed off the tree, fading quickly into the shadows as her aura and frame disappeared. Each step took her forward, careful and silent. The trained spy knew the landscape better than most, having studied it during her time with the Silver Jedi.

Allyson stopped; she could feel the focus of the dark side centralized close by. Excitement made her heart race as she recognized not only one but both of the force elements. Memories flooded her mind, regret sank in, and she could feel the pit in her stomach weigh down. Aradia Pavanos was someone she had wanted to protect; she had been the only link Allyson had to Zaavik.

Zaavik. The boy quickly became her biggest regret; she had failed him more times than not. It was apparent in the path he chose- the one he felt was the right one - and how easily he turned away from her. Nightly for the past seven years, she had gone over where things had gone wrong. Her mission in the Sith? Taking him too soon into the depths of hell? Showing and fostering powers rooted in the dark side?

Maybe she cared too much? Jedi weren't foster parents to their padawans; they were teachers - yet the Corellian knew she couldn't just be his teacher. He was more than a student; he was the only family she had.
Yet, he was gone.

Aradia had been the only constant, and Allyson had been able to use the coin that she had given the ginger child as an anchor to find her. Eyes moved from Aradia to the Master, the same woman she had fought some time ago, another mistake she had made. Threats were made to scare Aradia into running, taking Zaavik and leaving this chaotic war behind them. Allyson had hoped they had done that, disappeared, became other people - lived for themselves, not for someone else's cause.

Seeing the pair, Allyson felt hatred burning in her chest. It manifested slowly in the bow bathed in light to form in her palm, but she waited. Aradia needed to leave - the fight was no longer with her. Allyson needed her; she had to find Zaavik.

When the girl would leave, Allyson would use the shadows to strike. If things worked out, she would be able to kill the Master or cripple them long enough to chase after Aradia. Slowly, Allyson let the light construct continue to form within her hands. A small light string connected to the two curved ends of the bow, and as her fingers drew back on the taut line, an ethereal arrow formed, created from the purity of the light.

Quietly and unannounced, the Shadow released the arrow aimed towards the base of the Sith Lord's throat.
 
3rd post
OPERATION: SHATTERPOINT
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THE ANNIHILATION OF TYTHON

Objective 1: ATTACK EVERYTHING!!!!


Thomas Barran
"The Bloodhound"

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ANOINTED ACOLYTE OF THE SCAR HOUNDS


Allies (BOTM/NSO):
Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis The Mongrel The Mongrel Keilara Kala'myr Keilara Kala'myr Shai Maji Shai Maji Erion Justeene Erion Justeene
Darth Saevius Darth Saevius Ronar Ronar

Enemies (NIO/Enclave/NJO): DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran Rose Dorce Hall Mannarra Hall Mannarra Asanté Tsilor Asanté Tsilor
Bex Tarring Bex Tarring Aerys Myrrine Ollis Barran Ollis Barran Jas Katis Jas Katis Julian Qar Julian Qar Annor E-059
Saul Vandron Saul Vandron Asmus Omaand Asmus Omaand Alessandra Io Alessandra Io Kal Kal Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor Rex Valhoun Rex Valhoun


Loadout
Protection/Equipment
Beskar Brodie-Helm

Free-State Surplus Gas-Mask
2nd-Gen Galidraani SF Combat Webbing
Free-State Surplus Flak Jacket

Hipflask (Mineheel Moonshine)

Weaponry/Explosives

SA-35 Heavy Blaster Rifle

AP-25i "SIMP" Particle-Beam Blaster Pistol
Beskar Romphaia
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Old Fairbairn Vibrodagger
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X3 Incendiary Grenades

X2 Flashbangs
X3 Tetan Mastiffs
X5 Repurposed Valdr Skær-Pattern Dual-Role Droids

Scar Hound Array
X1 Scavenged Goliath Main Battle Tank
X50 SHT-66 "Malm-hrið" Heavy Battle Droids

X100 SHT-26 "Bedevil" Heavy War Bikes
X75 Scavenged XT-62 "Cataphract" Main Battle Tanks
X20 Branchlurkers
X300 Moon Children


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NEXUS OF THE BLOOD-HOUND: SHRIVEN NO MORE - PART FOUR
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The Rowan Grove Plateau, Mt. Sintarin,
Northern Temple Valley, Tython (Late-Autum of 876 ABY)


He nears, but I think I know who this one might be - yet only by description.
'Stand up, stand up. The Blood Hound is over there.', Justeene barked over his shoulder, still toying with idea of what it would be like to serve as a Sith with the Tri-Lunar Clique, but only slightly waylaid from his process by the new arrival. Turning back to Barran, the stoic Sith took a moment to study the eyes of his new friend for a moment before answering,'Thomas, once the battle is won and the Maw is Triumphant, I'll give you my answer to your proposal, but for now, I need to be somewhere else, with the utmost urgency.', graciously bowing his head before walking off to start his heavy speeder-bike, an exact replica of those Ronar and the Bloodhound were using that day. It was plain to see in Erion's restlessness that he had a duelling-opponent waiting, and though Thomas couldn't help but feel slightly envious of his force-wielding colleague, the Woad couldn't help but feel glad to be working with one so eager to fight anyone and anything, vaguely recalling what he would've faced in his stupor-addled absence from Durace's anomaly-storm.

'That's good enough for now, Lord Superious.... An' good luck down there!'

Parting with that, and comfortably satisfied with all he had covered in discussion, Barran rounded on the new arrival, seeing him kneeling with sword presented in subservience as his eyes caught the gaze of a man who would become his mentor after that day. 'I am Ronar, son of Thornar,', he began, expressing the purest reverence as he head bowed once more, a display that Thomas was neither expecting or accustomed to. Sincere though it was, whatever the offer, the Woad could not accept it in such an intense form; it was clear to see that the Shriven One would need to bring Ronar into the fold in his own way, such that differed to the usual bonds of affiliation and duty, the way of the Scar Hounds. And yet, in this realisation, Barran knew he was better off hearing out the new arrival, for respects as such were still somehow deeply engrained enough that the Woad would return them in kind, smaller though they would appear at face value.

'I come to serve the Bloodhound.'

Exhaling slowly with puffed cheeks, Barran couldn't help but admire the gravity of the choice Ronar was willing to make in that moment, laying a hand on the helmeted head in kindness and acknowledgement as he replied,'I know, I know.... But this is something different - as you may not even need to take that leap when you're ready. To start with, you bring your own acolytes to the group, this I think I overheard on comms, even before the other fellow arrived.', reaching behind the helmet to raise the young warrior to his feet by the collar of his coat in the process of beginning his answer. The Bloodhound appreciated the rising tribal-leader's eagerness to prove his worth, but clarification took precedence that day, taken into deep consideration as Thomas continued,'Not a bad thing though, it just means that more of you will need to make your oaths when we get you all back to Rhigar. But as of now? You're a Scar Hound, Ronar.', turning back to catch his gaze as he measured the conclusion of his response.

'Our oath of affiliation never was one of subservience or fealty, lad.... Ours was, is, and always shall be a creed of brotherhood, camaraderie, and most of all - our commitment to completing the Cycle!'

Thomas was content that he had gotten his point across coherently, even glad that he'd gotten his grand stipulations off his chest, but one last thing remained to be said, one last statement of importance to set the tone for Ronar's time with the Brotherhood of the Maw. Looking through the trees once more to the valley below, the Bloodhound added,'An' besides.... The only ones you kneel to are the Mongrel and our Dark Lord Solipsis.', just in time to escape the interruption, snatching his gaze westward as a serious of explosions on the right flank set the tone for the troubles that awaited them in the south. However, as soon as the realisation dawned on him, Thomas cussed under his breath, clenching his jaw the rocket-artillery barrage had it's way with the front of Ghoul's southward-approaching armoured tactical-column, a sight that troubled him greatly.

'And so the real fight begins.... Follow me, Ronar. We can talk on the way down, as I'm sure you'll have your questions. One-time-only deal, free-reign to learn until we stash our speeder-bikes. Soun' like a plan?'

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NEXUS OF THE BLOOD-HOUND: SHRIVEN NO MORE - PART FIVE
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Quarrystone Flood-Bank, East of Master's Rest,
Temple Valley, Tython (Late-Autumn of 876 ABY)


Damn it all! Damnit it all! Damn it all!
Dire were their circumstances, harsh was the hand the Tri-Lunar clique had been dealt, fast was the diminishment of their life-expectancies. Trouble had come to find the Bloodhound's pincer-manoeuvre, and there was nothing that Ghoul could've done about it, even though the approach was cautious, well-consolidated and pertinent under the assumption of unchallenged approach - and certainly so with the usual relentless approach of the Scar Hounds considered.

Hoodwinked by use of the very mountains we wish to climb! Damn it all!

'WAKE UP, YOU DAMN RAKE ON LEGS!!!! THERE'S A FIGHT TO BE HAD!!!!'

The rocket-barrage had taken a toll on the front of the westward column, immediately bringing their receding flood-plain into extreme jeopardy from the moment the barrage made first contact, but it all hung on the way Ghoul would respond as soon as he had been snapped out of his unconscious state, and on the general state of his cognitive abilities in the moments after. The damage to his head looked more severe than it was, proven as such as the irritation and pain combined into a mixture potent enough it stirred the young Zabrak from the untimely numbness to the situation, though the cyborg protecting him knew it would take a little more than that to get Ghoul on his feet again. The gash had run from the top of the lad's forehead along the top of his spiked head, taking out the top of the horn on the crown of his head and completely dislodging the central horn at the front, a horrific sight for most to look on, but the bleeding and goriness would never perturb a cyborg warrior like Nail.

'COME ON, SLIM-JIM!!!! IS THAT ALL YOU'VE GOT?!?! YOU'RE NOT DYING HERE OF ALL PLANETS, AND CERTAINLY NOT ON MY WATCH!!!!'

Lurching out of his half-conscious haze, the young Zabrak rose to an unsteady standing position with more than enough wobbles on the way up, furious at the dull pain at the top of his head as he growled,'Those Imperials, Jedi, or whoever it was in reality - they're gonna pay for that.', whilst his eyes were still rolling around in the attempt to focus on the marauder standing before him. Nail wouldn't wait around to find out if he'd react to the threat in time or not though, as the chances of another barrage were increasing with every second they spent idled by the wreck they were previously advancing in, another of which the Zabrak's guardian knew they wouldn't survive, grabbing the young Tri-Lunar by his right pauldron and dragging him out to the relative safety of the grassy open ground of the western flood-banks.

<"All units in the west column, this is Nail! Do not stop, I repeat, DO - NOT - STOP!!!! You need to form a wide, spaced-open formation on the move! Negate the advantage of the next barrage, SHOW THEM WHAT WE LEARN FROM OUR ENEMIES!!!!">

The slide door of a nearby Cataphract flew open behind him, and with there being no chance of saving Ghoul's Goliath tank, Nail picked up his Zabrak friend and hurled him inside before climbing up to the top of the turret from the outside ladder, letting the XT-62 roar into life again and on the southerly track once more. The cyborg guardian then urged the LMG-gunner down to join the others with a simple grunt, taking up his position at the belt-fed Slug Thrower as the tank-formation (along with all the supporting technicals) continued to fan out in their attempt to avoid the brunt of the next barrage, assumed as surely impending by then, Nail knew better than to believe the opposing artillery-crews wouldn't be able to reload and fire again in time. Yet another, more pressing of matters would take precedence whilst the cyborg was still making his first sweep from left to right with the LMG, a message on comms set to patch through to all the Scar Hounds on the ground that day, one such that would galvanise the fighting spirit of the Mongrel's finest with frightening intensity for the rest of the battle.

<"Hâsk jiaasen!!!">

'I was wondering when that order would filter through.... Nail, get down here! I have blood-runes to paint on our chest-pieces!'

 
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In the Darkness there is Truth
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Allies: Theoretically Maw
Enemies: Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser (Engaging soon), Celeste Rigel Celeste Rigel , Thurion Heavenshield Thurion Heavenshield (in vicinity), GA/NIO people.
Location: Somewhere near Kaleth

The Twi'lek Padawan's blast wave, fuelled by rage and grief, slammed Libertas into the wall with a loud, sickening thud. Blood dripped down her face and lekku. She tasted it on her lips. Pain shot through her skull and back. Many parts of her body were mechanical, as flesh had been shed in favour of metal, but not all of them. She was organic enough to feel the intense surge of pain. The neophyte had strength in the Force. Good.

She arose, as she heard the Padawan charge. All righteous fury and desperation. Holding her sword in a strong grip, she stood her ground, seemingly passive. She only sidestepped at the last moment to turn the fiery yellow blade aside with a strong swing. Then she riposted, sword sweeping towards the Padawan's mid section. The Twi'lek's eyes went wide and she had to make a quick twist to get out of the way, stumbling to the side. And the Sith began to hammer her.

Libertas was not particularly fast, weighed down by heavy armour and cybernetics. But her advance was inexorable, and each blow fuelled by implacable strength. Desperately, the Padawan tried to deflect, and get some breathing space. Then the Sith smote her with her cybernetic fist, a move quickly followed up by a downward slash that took the girl's right hand. The Padawan fell to the ground, clutching her stump as she cried out in pain. Yet, she looked up at the Sith in defiance. "Go ahead, gloat, kill me. I won't fall. I won't join you and your psycho dark lord."

"It will be a very cold day on Mustafar before Solipis and whoever else is claming the title at the moment is my dark lord, girl," Libertas said in a strangely conversational tone. "You have dedication, girl, and zeal. Misaimed it may be. I don't want you to fall...I want you to be productive. Something most Jedi and Sith fail at. Our species could use more fighters who take their lives into their own two hands, and less mewling weaklings."
Then she turned away. "I will kill you. I will bring you to justice!" she heard the Padawan yell.
"Not today. In time, maybe. If you get yourself off this overrated rock instead of wallowing in misery. Reflect on this confrontation, learn from it." Leaving the maimed Padawan, the Sith sensed another presence in the Light. One that was a lot stronger.
 
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Vemric Keldra

Guest
V


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ALLIES: Romul Saxon Romul Saxon | Verin Oldo Verin Oldo | Isla Draellix-Kobitana Isla Draellix-Kobitana | Caarlyle Rausgeber Caarlyle Rausgeber | Juno - 11/0571 Juno - 11/0571 | Mylo Thorne | Tren Chaar Tren Chaar | Liram Angellus | Albrecht F. Herlock Albrecht F. Herlock | VADM Tarsa Doon | Caoimhe Crannach | Aculia Voland Aculia Voland | Vaux Gred Vaux Gred | @whoever else I'm missing | Enclave | AC | NIO | GA | Elysium Empire | SJC

CEASEFIRE
: Aximand Sicarus Aximand Sicarus | Mith'akis'ormo Mith'akis'ormo | The Amalgam | @whoever else I'm missing | EE

ENEMIES: Tu'teggacha Tu'teggacha | Marlon Sularen Marlon Sularen | Derix Tirall Derix Tirall | Khione Khione | Aldo Garrick | Akûz the Ravager Akûz the Ravager | KV-6000 | Onrai Onrai | @whoever else I'm missing | BOTM & Allies

ENGAGING: Akûz the Ravager Akûz the Ravager

FLEET:
Flagship: UES Requiem - (Shields 73%/Hull 96%) Heavy Assault- 4.2K

2x Victator-class Battlecruiser - Heavy Assault - 3.52K
=UES Executioner - (Shields 83%/Hull 100%)
=UES Hellios - (Shields 87%/Hull 100%)

1x Thoros II-class Battlecruiser - Heavy Assault - 4.2K
= UES Eternity - (Shields 92%/Hull 100%)

2x Grievous-class Star Destroyer - Heavy Assault - 1.89K
= UES Grande Deceptor - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)
= UES Anarchist - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)

3x Argente-class Assault Cruiser - Assault - 0.96K
= UES Liberty - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)
= UES Revenant - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)
= UES Genesis - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)

5x Murkhana-class Escort Frigate - Balanced - 0.43K
= UES Guardian - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)
= UES Pilgrim - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)
= UES Triumph - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)
= UES Observer - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)
= UES Herald - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)

6x Terrus-class Flak Corvette - Defensive - 0.16K
= UES Galaxy's Harbinger - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)
= UES Euphoria - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)
= UES Vision - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)
= UES Marauder - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)
= UES Hepsibah - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)
= UES Conquest - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)

6x Trench-class Fast Attack Corvette - Offensive - 0.11K
= UES Prophet - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)
= UES Judgement - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)
= UES Huntress - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)
= UES Avenger - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)
= UES Prisoner - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)
= UES Torment - (Shields 100%/Hull 100%)


"Sir, incoming transmissions from Accord forces."

Pol looked over at Vemric from the comms panel, slightly worried about the reception to the broadcast. His Admiral wasn't exactly a patient man.
"So it begins." Vemric said softly. "Patch them through respectfully." he then told Pol in a normal order.
"Squadron Lead from a Silver Flight, Sir." Pol announced before a sharp female voice cut through the bridge.

"This is CT, what the kark are you talking about!? That thing might be ready to glass Tython and you want us to be careful not to hurt the ones boarding it when they should know good and well what not succeeding m...."

The whine of a bird could be heard before she cut out abruptly.
"Report." Vemric barked at Pol.
"Still picking up a signal, Sir. My guess is just engagement pulling her away, Sir." he said.
"Send through a texted transmission then: CT, your troubles have been noted, but the aim is to prevent the loss of any more lives. The Mando'ade are perfectly capable of achieving just that. Give them the chance they need. Admiral Keldra out." Vemric then dictated while Pol typed through the transmission. He then turned back to the viewport. "Who is the other?"
There was a heartbeat of silence. "Coming from the Ragnarök, Sir. Rear-Admiral Sicarus." Pol finally said.
Vemric's jaw clenched. The two gentlemen had unfinished business and the ceasefire could not come at a worse time.
"Very well, relay it." the Sephi said, somewhat strained.
"They...are offering fighter support if needed, Sir." Pol ended the sentence in quite a surprised tone.

The gal.

"Tell them thank you and that we'll send a gift basket." Vemric then said, his nose slightly scrunched up as he watched the battle unfold through the viewport.
"Sir, uh, the gift basket bit too?" Pol asked.
"Yes, Pol. That too. Do as you are told."
"Yes, Sir."
"Sir...!" Ensign Loch started
"Everyone brace for impact!" Miles barked just before the Requiem shuddered while shields flashed and ablative armour rippled.

Vemric remained upright in front of the viewport as autocannons suddenly bombarded the Requiem.
"Report!" he barked as the barrage continued.
"Shields holding for now. Coming from a Mawite flag that had just entered the system - the Caragol."
"Well, shoot back, Commander." Vemric said simply as if talking to a three-year-old.
"Yes, Sir." Miles relented with a blush creeping into his collar. "Requiem open fire on the Caragol. The Executioner to loose all ordnance, including solars at the Brakka. The Hellios to withhold solars but loose cannons at the K'rggah. The Eternity, Deceptor, Anarchist and all Cruisers to please remove any sign of a Crucifix or Borgoth-destroyer. Everyone to fire at will and recharge specialised ordnance immediately after firing. Fighters to stay in the hangars for now. Attack line to stay put. The Harbinger, Euphoria and Vision to remain on the line. The rest of the Corvettes to take evasive action. Trench-Corvettes, do what you do best. Report all damages, ladies and gentlemen. " He then relayed to the line.

Vemric turned toward the bridge while the Requiem shuddered as she loosed hell upon her designated mark.
"Get me the Samrata again."
"Yes, Sir."
"Minister, may I request extra fire from your lines, upon the Mawite fleet under the Caragol, please?" Vemric asked Verin Oldo Verin Oldo . "I also urge to be wary and to take evasive if need be. Keldra out."
He glanced out of the viewport for another heartbeat. Something made the hair in the back of his neck raise, though he could not put his finger on it.

After some contemplation, he glanced over his shoulder.
"Bring my armour and weapons. All personnel to be armed as well." he then turned to face the bridge fully again. "What ever may happen this day, remember that we fight for our own home. We stand against these monsters not only for the Mando'ade, but for ourselves. For your families. Do not shrink away from danger - for their sakes." he told them. He had no idea how the battle would pan out, but something didn't sit right. It wasn't just the flashing of the shields under the barrage from the Kragamond flag. He knew his ship would hold her own against a destroyer. She had been through much worse. Something else was happening.

A Darker force was at work, against his better judgement.

  • Vemric sends a scripted transmission back at Vaux Gred Vaux Gred
  • Vemric thanks and sends a gift basket to Aximand Sicarus Aximand Sicarus
  • Requiem taking hits, but fires back at the Caragol with full ordnance, including orbitals - Akûz the Ravager Akûz the Ravager
  • UES Executioner looses all ordnance, including solar-ion cannons, on the Brakka. The UES Hellios withholds solars, but open fires with other ordnance on the K'rggah. The UES Eternity, Deceptor, Anarchist and all Cruisers and Frigates fire at will on the other Crucifix and then some Borgoth destroyers and all Enclave ships ordered to immediately reload or recharge if solars were fired- Akûz the Ravager Akûz the Ravager (feel free to decide which ships take hits)
  • The UES Harbinger, Euphoria and Vision remain where they are to provide flak cover for the ships of the line while other flak corvettes are free to take evasive action if need be - all flak corvettes still provide flak cover.
  • Fighter compliments remain in the hangars, but are ready to deploy at any second.
  • Trench-class attack corvettes scatter in different directions, all toward the Kragamond fleet - some from above, some from below, some from both sides with hit and runs - Akûz the Ravager Akûz the Ravager
  • Vemric requests backup fire from Verin Oldo Verin Oldo but urges him to take evasive action if needed.
  • Vemric feels uneasy as, unbeknown to him, the Force warns him of impeding danger, even though he doesn't know what. He summons his weapons and armour just in case.
Messed up allegiances - just fixed it

OOC: Let me know if I missed someone or something

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The Unchained

Engaging:
Geiseric Geiseric

Allies: Darth Vinaze, Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis

Enemies: Eina L'lerim-Vandiir

Loadout: Mandalore's Lament, Regret, beskar'gam

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Vampyra Missa

"Happy hunting, Vinaze."

The inky blot that was Darth Vinaze faded back into the darkness from whence it came, leaving Khamul to find his own battle to fight. Not long after his old comrade left, the ever-lingering twinkle of distant light drew closer, slowly turning into a bright flame among the swirling darkness of the Maw. The energy had become unmistakable...

"Crusader..."

Suddenly, a silent thought roared across the empyrean, as if the man were shouting from only a couple of feet away. It was a challenge from none other than that same Ashlan knight Khamul had fought upon the sands of Kamar. Their last encounter had ended in a stalemate, leaving a foul taste in the Demon Mandalore's mouth. Khamul had been robbed of his trophy... it would not happen again.

Turning his full attention to the Crusader, The Unchained calmly approached, his hand slowly reaching for Mandalore's Lament. As he drew the weapon, Khamul's gaze remained fixed on Geiseric, his mask pulsating with a red glow from the Sarrassian iron that held it together.

SNAP-HISS

Black and red plasma erupted from the handle, pulsating with the same dark energy that permeated from his mask. Khamul could feel the power rushing through him, amplified by the dark machinations of Solipsis. The thunderous cracks of the storm above rippled through every fiber of the man's being, providing him with power, the likes of which he had never felt before.

"It was foolish to come here, Jedi. Tell me, are you so eager to die?"

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Leader: CDR Tren Chaar Tren Chaar
Three: FO Ran Serys
Five: FLT Kaul "Joker" Emos
Six: FO Mylo Thorne
Seven: FO Leon Gallo
Ten: FL Qellene Tyliame Qellene Tyliame
Eleven: FO Zev Garallia
Twelve: FO Tristram Vos

For the briefest moment in any large-scale engagement, there comes a time when two sets of opposing fighter wings come face to face, yet unengaged and preparing for the worst.

This was that moment.

Em looked in steely repose as the squadron readied itself to fly through the enemy formation, hoping to take as many of them out as possible with rapid bursts of fire. It was like shooting blindly into a swarm of birds; you'd be sure to hit something.

Artemis took one final cursory glance at the radar, checking that what she saw dead ahead matched the bigger picture. A swarm of enemy fighters bent on removing her from the galaxy at an atomic level.

Checked out.

She checked her thruster speed, left hand flicking through the various controls to maintain the power and see what little extra agility she could squeeze from the control management system.

'"We've got incoming! Eleven and Twelve, take the squadron's port flank! Nine, you're with me on starboard!"

A flurry to words from Rev Ten. Em banked her craft to starboard without query, following in the wake of the Flight Lieutenant. Bursts of fire chased through the void, catching glancing blows against the shielding that kept the A-Wing stable under such pressure and intense speed. She poked her craft up above the imaginary air stream, able to add her own volley into the oncoming fighters without catching her squadron mate.

The incoming fire deflected off her cockpit, shields holding.

"Maintain this heading," Em called to her astromech, a faint beep replying in affirmation.

A large concussive blast sent her ship a few feet from its path, a change of path of near 13 degrees. She ploughed in a diagonal motion, shaking her head to maintain focus after the blast had disrupted her mission. She grimaced, muttering obscenities under her breath as she pulled the fighter in an upwards pattern, trying to climb onto the same plane as Lene. The fighter struggled. It had sustained some damage to the starboard portion of the rear chassis.

"I'm hit."

She inadvertently barked out down the comms, alerting the rest of the squadron that she would now be playing by a different set of rules; ones that ensured her survival. The intensity of the oncoming fire began to accelerate her breathing. She felt a distinct pressure that she hadn't felt for some time.

There was a chance she might not leave this one.


Attempted to correct flight path after sustaining hits to A-Wing. Following Qellene Tyliame Qellene Tyliame
 
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Benûwia Antares / Darth Xanesh / Ireria Antares
Sith Lord, Sith sorcerer, alchemist, historian, Archon of the Primyn Group, Owner of UAAK and GBATS
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Objective: Investigate, fight the enemy.
Location: Ruined Temple, Tython
Equipment: Kaldrweave Robe | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit undersuit | Red blade lightsaber (Benûwia) | Red blade lightsaber (Ireria) | Amulet of Many || Empyrean gland || OPBC-01m
Tag: Thurion Heavenshield Thurion Heavenshield
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[ Final Days ]
<"Sith or ur-Kittât"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>

  • Xanesh summons a Darkshear, but not attacks Thurion yet.
  • Xanesh tries to arouse doubt in her opponent.
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Benûwia Antares / Darth Xanesh / Ireria Antares
Sith Lord, Sith sorcerer, alchemist, historian, Archon of the Primyn Group, Owner of UAAK and GBATS
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Objective: Investigate, fight the enemy.
Location: Ruined Temple, Tython
Equipment: Kaldrweave Robe | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit undersuit | Red blade lightsaber (Benûwia) | Red blade lightsaber (Ireria) | Amulet of Many || Empyrean gland || OPBC-01m
Tag: Thurion Heavenshield Thurion Heavenshield
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[ Final Days ]
<"Sith or ur-Kittât"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>

  • Xanesh investigates the ruins and welcomes Thurion.

Xanesh has not found her place since the Sith Empire collapsed and the Worm Emperor took control of the empire. The old Sith Lady did not accept the new views and as it became apparent that she could not retain the power she had built for more than a decade, she preferred to leave. Here, in this age, in the present, she didn’t have to leave so much behind, but she wasn’t happy. Xanesh has since spent most of her time researching archaeology and research. As always. She found a new home in the Maw, but they didn’t feel really at home.

The methods were too aggressive for two Sith Ladies as old and tired as Benûwia and Ireria. Even Benûwia was tired of this. And since Csilla, both of them, and so Xanesh herself has seen the visions, the dreams. They were on Voss for a while, which is Ireria's other home, but after the Ashlan Crusade occupied the planet, they couldn't return there either. In fact, they have never really found a place in this world, in this time. Everything changed too fast, they were old and wanted a quiet life.

They had not been involved in war for a long time. Now they are made an exception. Before the fight reached this place, the woman examined and looked at the Jedi ruins. After all, she was partly an archaeologist. It's always been fun. After that, however, hell broke loose and the fight began. She could feel the Jedi approaching, and she was still meditating and maintaining Force Storm and Battle Meditation nearby. After all, the old lady was a sorcerer rather than a swordswoman.

She knew her fate, but that didn't mean she wouldn't kill as many Jedi today as she could. Because Xasneh intended to send a lot into the Netherworld. The Sith Lord opened her eyes as she sensed the person approaching. Xanesh, now in an old female body, after the shape-shifting, folded the hood over her head and emerged from the ruins. HSh looked around, recognizing Thurion Heavenshield Thurion Heavenshield , the High King of Midwinter, Former Grandmaster of the Silver Jedi Order. A worthy opponent.

"Lord Heavshield, we welcome you!" she greeted the Jedi.

She felt the effect of the ritual, she heard the words, "Hâsk jiaasen!" from hundreds of thousands, millions of throats. All the warriors tied their lives, their souls, to Dark Voice. She looked at the Jedi, calmly, peacefully.

"You're late, it's over!" she told him.

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Allies: Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser Celeste Rigel Celeste Rigel Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor Tracyn Ordo Tracyn Ordo Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka | Team Lightside
Enemies: Ardana Vorco Ardana Vorco (engaging) Darth Libertas Darth Libertas (in vicinity) | Team Darkside
Location: Ruined Temple


The battle was joined now in full, with the Jedi strike teams of Vanagor and Starchaser converging on the temple ruins. Blasters were fired point-blank, lightsabers clashed, and fists were thrown. It was a complete brawl, one that the towering Valkyri was more than suited for; Thurion's fighting style more often than not incorporated jaw-breaking punches and bone-crushing grapples, utilising his superior physical strength and size to his advantage. Besides this, it was also the less lethal way to take down an opponent for a man who abhorred killing if he could help it.

"I don't drink caf," he called back to Caltin while lifting another enemy off his feet and throwing him into a nearby tree with such force it uprooted and fell over, crushing several others. "Wife's tried to warm me up to it for ages, still can't stand it!"

As yet another Mawite charged him, the Jedi Master summoned into his palm his ignited saber still buried in the chest of a previously felled foe just in time to sever the raving madman's hands clean off, following up on the swipe with a roundhouse to his chest, sending him flying.

By now he'd caught glimpse of someone he never would have expected to see ever again, and as he held another enemy in a painful joint lock he was stunned to realise it was truly him. "Tracyn! What are you--" He gave it a good snap, pulling the poor sod's arm out of its socket and letting him drop naturally to the ground before finishing him off with a stomp to the throat.

But before he and Tracyn had the chance to reunite in earnest, another made their sinister presence known. An older woman, from the looks of it, but one unmistakingly aligned with the dark side. Didn't take a genius to figure out which side she was on. She called him out, specifically.

He turned to Tracyn, patting him on the shoulder as he bid him good fortune. But then he added something so cryptic that again served to give him pause.

"Asha...?"

This wasn't the time to stop and find out what Tracyn had meant by that, for the battle soon separated the two as Thurion faced the Sith Lord, azure lightsaber at his side. The two carved out their own little arena amidst the chaos, circling one another like two predators awaiting the opportune moment to strike.

"You have me at a disadvantage, Lady Sith," he replied, offering a slight bow of his head while holding her corrupted gaze without fear. "The Brotherhood will not succeed. By attacking Tython, you've just united every Jedi faction in the galaxy where before there was disunity."

Thurion would then assume the wide stance of Form V long since mastered, lightsaber at the ready. "Ladies first."

"We are Darth Xanesh!" she introduces herself.

She did not particularly expect the man to know her name, although Xanesh was the person who held the rank of Pillar of Advancement in the Sith Empire after the death of Darth Prospero. That is, she was the Dark Councillor for Science. True, it's been more than a decade, slowly, and a half. A lot has changed since then. Maybe she felt the best in this world then. Since then? It was something like it used to be when she lived under Vitiate's reign.

The cycle always goes on.

Sure, she loved the theory of shaping the galaxy in the image of the Sith, but Xanesh only saw another Vitiate behind it. And it was tiring; she wasn't entertained anymore. Once upon a time, she was afraid of that, from the passing. Not specifically Xanesh, but rather Benûwia; Ireria never. And yet at their first death, their souls were locked in a gem and united, so Xanesh was born. They waited there for millennia before they finally occupied a body. The accident denies them ever being part of Netherworld. Maybe, maybe this ritual will change it.

"If so, where are the Silver Jedi Concord's forces? Or where is Saint Holy Kaiser of the Ashlan Crusade? As if I know well, they are nowhere. Ashla's light goes out today, Bogan will overcome. Even if you win today, the Jedi's time is over." she told him.

The world will change today, no matter who wins. The Sih Lady knew exactly that; that was the reason she came too. She watched as the man pulled out her weapon and took the Shien form. It was also Xanesh's preferred form. However, she didn’t reach for the lightsabers on her side. She reached into the Force instead. She remembered for a moment her first battle in this age with Adenn Kyramud Adenn Kyramud

The Sith, the Jedi, the Mandalorians, none have changed over the millennia. They will have to after today…

In her hand appeared a spear of midnight black consisting of Dark Side energies. A bitter smile appeared on her lips. She had not yet attacked, but rather tried to arouse doubt in the former Grandmaster.

"The Jedi are always the ones who want to start the fight in a hurry…" she took only one step closer. "Have you ever asked yourself if it makes sense? You're trying to kill us, you might succeed, you might not. Does a killed Sith change anything? If you want to achieve something here, shouldn’t you be at the scene of the ritual?" she asked him.

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Overseer for Imperial Scientific Development



Dr. Trinity Harris w.o.
DXenbo MAnthro
Overseer for Scientific Development


Location: Landing on Tython
Objective: Scientific protection missions
Tags: OPEN but not for PVP

Weapon: HH38 Geysa Hybrid Pistol
Vibrokukri
Riding: Phantom
Accompanied by: Plushee Companion Droid
Wearing:
Hersir Imperial Uniform
Guardema Bio-suit
OPBC-01e
Ship: 2 x Carrack Class Science Vessel 1 military support and 2 storage mission pods
ENS Mihaly and ENS Prosperity
Untitled47-20220415181345.png
"Where is everybody?" Dr. Harris enquired thoughtfully to the Captain, "our surveys suggested a large number of guards, almost a platoon equivalent by best estimates." They were in the caves already and making good time, the Ultranauts moved with precision, checking each nook for potential ambushes but there was none to be found, it was as if the complex had been deserted.

"I don't it either, it feels like a trap to me." Captain Bransin responded. The groups moved methodically, winding down through the unworked stone until they finally reached the point where the rock fall had happened. The change was subtle, a darkening of the walls as they passed areas that prior to the fall those years ago, had been sealed off from the outside air for millennia.

"Eyes and ears! We have movement ahead"

Trinity pulled out her side arm in preparation, but she would do everything she could to resolve any situations peacefully. Ahead she could see that two of the soldiers were examining a large tunnel close to the ground, about 30cm in diameter. Trinity walked over and kneeled down with her scanner. "Hmm, interesting. It seems to be a tunnel for a carnivorous burrowing creature native to the area, they are carrion feeders, but can be vicious when frightened. She shook her scanner and made a confused noise."

"false alarm men, onwards, if a gopher sticks its head out give it a quickly kick and move on."

Trinity looked at her scanned, there was a buzzing at in the ultrasonic frequencies, well above audible levels, there was no obvious explanation, except maybe a glitch. "Private, hand me that scanner please." she took the device off of the Ultranaut and scanned again, the buzzing was still there, very curious.

Dr. Harris informed her Captain of the anomaly, but without concrete information all she could do was continue to monitor it for now as the moved further down the caves.

 

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