Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Annihilation Shatterpoint | BotM Annihilation of GA Held Tython

Major Faction

Ryv

Become One With All Things

"Are you afraid?"

Darkness enveloped the kiffar's every sense. He could feel the cosmos around him like a cool breeze. Little blips of light appeared within that infinite darkness. Cerulean sapphire, verdant emerald, and bloody ruby light took shape in the form of tiny stars, surrounded by a writhing mass of mauve dust. A timelapse of creation passed across his conscious mind, moving quicker than he could even begin to conceive.

And as quickly as life took shape, in the form of tiny flowers and mewling beasts, death crashed over it all. Color faded away, replaced with the stark gray of a stormy sky. A near-constant stream of noise roared throughout his mind in a rising crescendo. Screams echoed across the infinite expense, fading away until they were replaced with giggling children and weeping parents.

Infinity stretched before Ryv.

He looked on in silence, hesitant to move in fear of what could happen if he disturbed the continuous motion.

"Are you afraid, Ryv?" a voice echoed somewhere nearby. A hand fell to his shoulder and squeezed tight.

Ryv blinked.

He looked up through the shadow to see the somber smile of Lanik Dawnstar. Infinity vanished around them, or maybe, it took the form of something else. Something familiar.

A sparring room aboard Peace, the mobile station Ryv once called home. Sweat drenched the kiffar's loose-fitting clothes. He was smaller then. Only two years into recovery, his muscle hadn't yet returned from wherever the drugs took them. Lanik, on the other hand, well, that bastard always looked good. Statuesque in appearance with a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and snow-white hair threaded with gleaming strands of silver. Hell, he didn't even seem bothered by their last two hours of training.

"I er-," Ryv stumbled over his response almost immediately. Dammit. "What do you m-mean am I afraid?"

"You seem hesitant to put anything behind your swings. Like you're worried you'll hurt me," Lanik offered the kiffar a hand. Ryv took it with a grateful smile, only to feel his stomach drop beneath him as the much larger man hoisted the kiffar onto his feet like he weighed nothing.

"Huh," Ryv shook his head. "I guess? I dunno, like- I don't want to hurt anyone."

"You're a Jedi Padawan. There will come a time when you'll be forced to hurt someone. Maybe to save someone's life, maybe to save your own," Lanik turned away from Ryv and stepped up to a wall of wooden weapons. "That's the nature of this universe. There are bad people out there who want to destroy you simply for standing in their way. If you're really going to be the Sword of the Jedi, you'll need to be more than an empathetic friend, Ryv. You'll need to be a beacon. A leader."

Ryv furrowed his brow. "I don't know why Wyatt chose me for this. You'd d-do so much better, Lanik," he swung the training sword left and right, careful not to focus too much on the long, thin scars running down his arms.

"No," Lanik looked back to Ryv, his gaze set in that stoic way only he could accomplish. "We all walk our own paths. Yours is that of the Sword. Even if you don't see it now, your eyes will be open to the truth one day. You were meant for this, in your own special way."

____________________
The ground shook beneath Ryv.

Heat swept over him in a tremendous wave as the earth trembled. Chunks of Ashla crashed down with great force. Fissures stretched out for dozens of feet in every direction from the point of impact. Hundreds of craters of varying sizes dotted the landscape around the raging battle with Solipsis at its center. The collective will of so many met the might of the Sith'ari. They fought back with a stubborn streak so much like that of the feeling Ryv once embodied.

He couldn't help but smile.

His gaze dropped to the misshapen lump that used to be his left bicep. He flexed his right hand, fingers shifting in jittery anticipation as they always did before a great battle.

Close to him, Solipsis engaged those Ryv cared about. His New Jedi Order, his once allies, the New Empire, and a crusade born of Cedric's unyielding determination. The Brotherhood of the Maw came to Tython to shatter everything Ryv fought to manifest over a decade of life. There was no other place nor another time.

Everything led to this moment.

War raged around him, yet the galaxy felt strangely still. This was the moment fated for the young Sword of the Jedi so long ago.

Ryv took up his worn, scarred saber in his right hand and flicked his thumb along the ignition switch. Verdant light burst forth in fiery sparks as Resolve echoed out his desire.

Today we fight for the fate of all things, old friend. I am glad you have taken me up once more in such tumultuous times.

"We do more than fight," Ryv uttered as he stepped toward the Sith'ari. "We protect them. Within my shadow, may they find respite," he sidestepped a spray of molten rock as another crater formed not far from his. His amber gaze locked on that of Solipsis. Ryv wove through the chaos with the grace of an intricate dance, his motion unburdened by the hellish rain from above.

Ryv flashed through the smoke, his emerald sword leading his mighty leap. He landed in step beside Rurik, Resolve's tip hovering inches from the smoking dirt. Not unlike the Imperator, Ryv kept the meld at bay. For the first time in the kiffar's life, he knew tranquility. His everything was that of a flat sea, unperturbed by the storm above.

"Solipsis," Ryv tightened his grip on Resolve. "The day is finally upon us."

 
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Barrien Siegfried

Guest
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Enemies: Romund Sro Romund Sro
Allies: Anyone not an enemy

He climbed down the mountain with little difficulty despite the ongoing battle. People shot each other. People stabbed each other. Blood saturated Tython. It never should have. This, the whole thing, should never have been allowed to happen. If only people could see the error of their ways, the nature they created with their actions. Jedi created animosity by hunting Sith, stoking more to become Sith because of the callous, if often unintentional, results of their actions. Sith created fear in others which sparked the Jedi to hunt them, inevitably bringing combat to worlds that never asked for it. The problem was people. People thinking only of themselves and ignoring the consequences of what they did. Barrien couldn't stand it.

The saber lance he wore? He cast it down upon the ground. The shield? He pulled it from his arm and tossed it away. All that remained was the basic plasteel armor, much the same as what a stormtrooper would wear, painted black to match his clothing and emblazoned with a logo that none had ever seen before. It stood for something not yet known, something new, something that would become his way of life, and, with any luck, the way of life of others that could see the wisdom of his thinking. Provided he lived.

In the distance, a star fell. Not a true star, but a vessel from space, a Star Destroyer. He watched the upheaval of the ground as it crashed into the battlefield, debris flying and the ground rolling. Devastation untold due merely to the side of the falling craft. He'd never seen such a thing in person before. The one time he'd come close the vessel had been moving at lightspeed and all that was seen was the light and after effects, as he'd been too busy protecting himself and others from destruction. This time he was far enough away that he could watch as the destruction unfurled upon Tython, wiping out people and local life.

After a time, something strange occurred. Either not everyone had died in the ship's crash, or others had moved into it, because the guns began to fire, ripping everything around the ship to shreds. He waited to see if someone in space would notice and send craft to end the assault, but they didn't. He watched to see if someone on the ground would direct artillery fire to stop it, but they didn't. Nothing happened. No one did anything. It was as if the entire command structure on the ground was in disarray. Or they didn't care. Or they didn't have the means to stop it. Or a thousand other possibilities that he could spend all day thinking of, but it would just be a waste of time as people died.

He couldn't wait.

Enhancing his body with the Force, he ran as fast as he could across the field of battle and toward the distant starship. It continued to pummel its surroundings with fire from guns large and small. The stench of death and burned wood mixed together, lingering in his nostrils as he ran. It was a smell he had smelled a thousand times before and no longer affected his stomach, only his mind. He hurt for the dead and destroyed. Life, all life, was precious and they, whoever they were, were destroying it.

He stopped in visual range of the vessel, easily spotted among the debris if one was looking and feeling. The guns fired, striking down anyone they could until he reached out and brought up a barrier between some of the guns and the people they shot at. He couldn't possibly stop all the guns on his own, but he could stop enough of them to be a nuisance. Even a distraction could stop them from being effective in their destruction of life. This was what he could do. He would harm no one, but he could stop others from being harmed, and if they forced him to try other means he had ways of stopping them. They were just not as quick, and were more dangerous.

Blasts from the weapons struck Force barriers in similar fashion to dovin basals absorbing shots. Stop and come out, or waste time. He would force their hand.
 



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

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

At the last second, the Death's Hand rabble managed to evade Romul Saxon's blow, craftily employing his jetpack to quickly maneuver away from the war axe's lethal downwards strike. Instead, it struck the metal floor of the hangar bay, creating a sizeable dent and ringing as the metal reverberated on each other. Grunting with effort, Romul freed the weapon and breathed fiercely as his eyes narrowed on his opponent. The coward tried shooting at Romul, but against his beskar the blaster bolts were less than nuisances. The Warmaster carried on unpeturbed as red bolt after bolt ricocheted and glanced off his thick plating.

"Your taunts are feeble," he proclaimed, stalking back and forth as he let the dar'manda shakily rise. Romul was in no rush; if it was a war of attrition that Orr wanted, it would be one that Orr would lose. The battle seemed to divert around them as warriors of Clan Saxon began to rally to their Alor, slowly pushing the Maw front back to the hangar bay entrance from which they'd arrived. "You sense your pitiful life is drawing to a close, so you wish to use humor to soften the blow." He struck his axe down, sending sparks as it carved through the floor and sent another reverberating clang through the hangar bay.

"May you find honor in death." He flashed his teeth in a moment of intensity as adrenaline surged through the Mandalorian giant. "It'll be more than what you had in life." And with that the Akaan'alor charged once more. But he didn't make it even a couple more paces before the faltering Death's Hand played a card that Romul had not expected.

"Whatever your name is," he wheezed, "you seem to've forgotten what makes us Mandalorian."

Kralmus smiled a bloody smile at his lone foe. "Our vod." Now, Tor'r. The time is now.

Romul looked up as the drone of a shuttle drowned out all other sound of the raging hangar battle. He had been expecting ships, but these weren't Enclave dropship, but a single Maw craft, heavily damaged. It came to a crashing standstill between Romul and the near-broken Death's Hand, and the mighty Akaan'alor stopped in his tracks, reassessing his movements.

The dust that had been kicked up by the crash was surprisingly dense, and Romul's vision was obscured until his helmet's HUD switched to thermal imaging. He could at least see, though individuals were only bright silhouettes against a neutral background, hard to distinguish between friend and foe. And then from the hulk of the crashed craft, it emerged.

A beast that Romul had only ever heard legends of, but one that was instantly recognizable to him. The famed, the feared Branchlurker.

"BACK UP!" Romul roared in warning, but it was too late as the beast stabbed its pincers through the 'soft' durasteel plating of a Clan Saxon warrior that had pushed up on the craft. Many of Romul's warriors were too fresh to know of the beast's terrifying power or its damn near-impenetrable armor. That soul was the first one, but not the last as the insectoid immediately rampaged into the Mandalorian lines. "BACK UP, YOU FOOLS!" Romul roared as his mind raced.

Time was precious, though, and every moment lost was another Mandalorian trampled. The Maw had been reinvigorated by the presence of the massive beast and were beginning to push back the Mandalorian tide.

"FIND COVER! USE YOUR HEAVY WEAPONRY!" The Warmaster finally cried, banging his war axe in a desperate attempt to draw the beasts attention away from the hapless Clan Saxon warriors. With a free left hand he drew a short kal blade, and dual-wielding axe and dagger he charged the beast. Bravely. Foolishly. But Romul Saxon did not fear a creature; it would soon learn to fear him.

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ROMUL SAXON'S WARBAND
POV: Gallius Saxon, Second-in-Command

As the Warmaster charged, the Mandalorians were not idly sitting off waiting to be killed. Those that hadn't been caught in the initial wave retreated back swiftly, finding cover amongst the debris that had been left by the battle that ravaged the hangar bay. Stepping up, Jorir heavy infantry trained their heavy repeaters on the beast, and soon chains of heavy blaster fire were raining on the beast from multiple directions. This was no small arms fire either; the laser fire of the Kayaur heavy blaster cannon was high-grade, radiation-spun of near disruptor lethality. No matter how durable the beast's carapace was, it could not withstand such concentrated heavy fire forever.

"You heard your Akaan'alor, BACK!" Gallius ordered. Romul was an effective leader but was often caught up in the bloodlust of battle. That was where Gallius stepped in to play his role: organizing and maintaining the Warmaster's army while the Warmaster won glory for the Enclave. It was not a role that brought Gallius any special honors, but he held no bitterness towards his Alor for it. In war, everyone had to step up when they were needed. Gallius was proud that he could do his part, and do it well.

A Mawite charged him screaming rabidly as the Mandalorians retreated, and Gallius swiftly pivoted and with a flash of his beskad divorced the savage's body from its head. "Those of you with Plasmag rifles, train them on the beast. It is susceptible to thermal-based weaponry. The rest, hold the damn line. Do not let the Maw forces rally and take the ground your vod died for, no matter the cost!" His Mandalorians roared in response; it was a mix of bravery, frustration, and fear that fueled their primal cry. But they were not cowards, to flee the moment the fighting got tough.

They knew that when they'd stepped aboard the superweapon, their lives had become forfeit. And if they were to die, they would die in glory, such glory that it would make their ancestors of the crusades proud. Where are those damnable dropships? Gallius wondered as he slew another charging raider, before drawing his blaster and firing indiscriminately at the warband. The lines had stopped moving once more, the Maw counterattack slowed by Mandalorian resolve. "MEREEL!" He shouted over the noise, before jacking into the comm frequency to get to the warrior. "Take your men and find a way to the cell blocks, now while they are preoccupied with us here. Then--" He was cut short by the sound of an imploding detonator, found himself ducking for cover as shrapnel was thrown.

"Osik!" He swore, shoulder charging a raider in retaliation. He knocked the raider to the ground, then followed it with rapid pulls of the trigger, pummeling the corpse with blaster bolts at close range. A scream alerted him and he raised his arm, sending hot crimson bolts through the skull of another Maw raider. A third jumped at him from the side at his blind spot and they fell in a tumble, losing hold of his beskad in the fall. The grabbed at each other, the raider flailing at his helmet with talons that scraped against the beskar plating, while Gallius traded curse-laden blows with his crushgaunts. When he rose, what had been the raider was a bloody pulp, and Gallius's armor was covered in blood and flesh. He breathed heavily, stalking backwards to the line of Mandalorians.

Where are those mother-fething dropships?

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WARFLEET CANDEROUS
POV: Ikaan Ordo, Tyatr'alor

"Another ship down!" A Mandalorian at comm-scan called, though Ikaan did not need a report to tell him what his eyes were seeing. He watched as the Ciryc Geriuvr burst into flame under the concentrated turbolaser fire, its shields and structure giving away to the relentless bombardment. That made three. They'd lost three warships already, including the one that had crashed into the superweapon after the micro-jump reversion, and still hadn't managed to land a single shabla dropship on the superweapon.

"How many got away?" Ordo growled, referring to the dropships that the heavy cruiser had brought with it. Aboard them were hundreds of droid reinforcements to a single starship alone, one wave enough to significantly change the tide for the Mandalorian boarders on the Avatar of War. They were counting on him, and him alone, to deliver them their relief. Otherwise, it would only be a thousand Mandalorians against hundreds of thousands of savage Maw fighters. The Mando'ade often boasted of their unmatched prowess in combat, but even so, those odds were nigh insurmountable without some sort of reinforcement.

"Only three, Tyatr'alor."


"Three squadrons?" That could be hopeful.

"Three. . . three dropships."

"Rangir!" Ordo swore, slamming a fist down on the control board in front of him. The frigates would not be the last to go if the stayed around much longer. The entire warfleet was taking heavy damage, with the Tyatr'okor on the verge of destruction and the Ashad Akan soon to follow. "Reconfigure point defense firing solutions and target enemy turbolaser clusters that have our ships within their firing arcs. I want every Mandalorian and fighting droid off of the Tyatr'okor and Akaan immediately. Leave a droid skeleton crew to man the ships, they're good as lost already." At least they'll go down fighting, Ordo tried to console himself.

"But where are they supposed to go, sir? With just shuttles, they'll get torn to pieces by flak and point defense within minutes. And our hangar bays are completely stocked, we don't have the room for two warships worth of personnel."

Ordo's face was grim under his helmet. But there was only one answer. "The only starship here that could use some more Mandalorians, and droids besides. The Akaan'alor will have his reinforcements."

"Tell them to make way for the Avatar of War."


Romul Saxon’s Warband
  • Aboard Boarding Pods
    • Clan Saxon Warriors [Several Hundred]
    • Si’kayha Commandos [Several Hundred]
  • Aboard Strike Frigates
Warfleet Canderous
LOSSES
Ships
  • x3 Ra'gr Assault Boarding Pods
  • x1 Bes'drahr Heavy Cruiser
  • x2 Kyr'am Strike Frigates
  • x21 Keldab Assault Dropships
Soldiers
  • x48 Warriors, Mixed Si'kayha/Clan Saxon [Aboard Boarding Pods]
  • Various Mandalorian Casualties
  • Cernr-type Droids [A lot]

 
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THE WARDEN
THE NEW JEDI ORDER | TYTHON | THE SEEING STONE
BATTLEMELD ACTIVE FOR ALL JEDI ON OBJECTIVE III
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The version of the giant that was still physical was vaguely aware of disaster crackling through the skies.

The extension of himself that no longer relied on flesh and blood quivered with the vitriolic snap-back of the force. And, unprotected with his extension and vulnerability, the wisened Master absorbed what he could from those of lesser resilience.

It would be foolish to think himself strong enough to fill in the void of the shattered moon. He felt The Force’s reaching, reaching, reaching, recoiling, wrenching at the imbalance that threatened to throw the planet into further discord.


Ugh... a little... help... here,

In a less desperate time, the venerable master might have found himself easing into a small smile. Pleased with Dagon’s ability to ask for help. Now, however, his attachment was overcome with duty. He was about to respond when he felt something greyer, hedging into a more shaded territory, skitter across the connection he would have travelled through to the Jedi Knight.

Despair threatened the resolve of their link, and Asmundr felt the lips of his fleshly self deepen into an unsettled frown. The air’s stillness travelled over his skin, and shadowy clutches vyed at the peripheries of his most intimate connections around the Seeing Stone. The source of freight was so near to him. Nearer than it should have been. Such a stark reaction would surely bleed through the influence the trio shared with all those around them. All those who depended on their stability.

“Steady.” The resounding vibration of the Master’s baritone hummed through the connected network. The sky above was falling, the ground had never been more solid. He was rooted in the planet.

Languid through the intersection of physical and metaphysical, Asmundr’s heavy hand reached to settle on Henna’s shoulder. To both ground her in the present and not give into fatalistic wrath, and remind her that she was not alone.

He pulled a fraction of his awareness away from the network that intersected with the Jedi that fought their battles throughout Tython. The part of him that needed to, pulled on Henna’s awareness to command her focus.


Stand firm in your integrity. Never yield to doubt or fear.

There is enough darkness this day.


His other part heard the distant call of Auteme, and while Ashla might have been raining down on them, and the crust of Tython crackling beneath their feet, The Warden, The Watchman, and The Shield had one duty:


Hold. He echoed, and the muscles of his arms tensed and lifted, palms stretching up to the sky. Above them, the rocks stood still. Suspended, held. This stretched for several kilometres.

Long enough for the Jedi to ground themselves, and come up with solutions to counter the barrage of rocks.

A shimmer travelled along the network of his mind, flaring brightly to the elder master. Enough for his frown and concentration to slacken into a neutral, hopeful expression. He borrowed the sentiment, amplifying it through the connection to all those who needed a reminder and a bolster on what the New Jedi Order’s purpose was.


We protect

Simultaneously, his tranquil warning bled through the lattices and frameworks of all those tethered to those around the Seeing Stone: Do not betray yourselves, protectors.

Let endurance complete its work.

Disunity would not be the victor this day.



SEERS | Henna Ashina Henna Ashina | Auteme Auteme | INTERRUPTED BY Cotan Sar'andor Cotan Sar'andor
ALLIES | NJO | GA | Judah Lesan Judah Lesan | Bernard Bernard | Ishida Ashina Ishida Ashina | Valery Noble Valery Noble | Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor | Eina L'lerim-Vandiir Eina L'lerim-Vandiir | Geiseric Geiseric | Ryv Ryv | Thurion Heavenshield Thurion Heavenshield | Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze | Corin Trenor Corin Trenor | Damsy Callat Damsy Callat
FOES | THE DARKSIDE | BOTM | Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis | Laoth Laoth | Alexa Alexa | Zachariel Steelblood Zachariel Steelblood | Dodhorn Harert Dodhorn Harert | Darth Vinaze Darth Vinaze | Jem Fossk Jem Fossk

 
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Immediate Allies: Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze Corin Trenor Corin Trenor Ryv Ryv Rurik Fel Rurik Fel Heinrich Faust Heinrich Faust | Asha Vynea
Meld: Asmundr Varobalder Asmundr Varobalder Auteme Auteme Henna Ashina Henna Ashina | Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser Celeste Rigel Celeste Rigel Thurion Heavenshield Thurion Heavenshield Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor
Immediate Enemies: Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis Jem Fossk Jem Fossk | Zinn Zinn Bink'sa Zinn Zinn Bink'sa , kinda?

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The Gungan turned, shouting angrily at him. An enemy, then, unwilling to listen to reason; Cotan lifted his hands, ready to fight back, before the humanoid amphibian was pulled away into the storm near them, his voice trailing off. Cotan blinked once, slightly surprised, and shook his head. "Come, Asha, we have to keep—"

His words stopped in an instant, a gasp of pain breaking past his control.

Deaths. Multitudes of them, in an instant, with a single command being chanted between the Maw's forces; Tython rumbled again beneath his feet, the spirit of the planet recoiling from the darkness that suddenly blanketed it so much stronger than before as many of them sacrificed themselves for the furthering of their leader's whims. "Steady," he mumbled to the planet beneath his feet, once more bringing his will to bear on the storms that threatened them all, joined with Asha's, pulling from the strength Coren was constantly pouring their way.

He was dimly aware as Dagon and his apprentice rushed on by, Rurik from another direction; the majority of his attention that wasn't placed on the planet itself was upon the locus of shadow so close to him, where Jem and Solipsis stood joined together. Fight back, he urged in her direction. Fight back, damn you, you're not his slave, you don't have to be his weap—

Then the shadow coalesced into a stabbing knife as Solipsis reached out to the moon above, shredding portions of Ashla's crust away and raining them down upon the battlefield. Any thought of words was banished from Cotan's mind as he fell to his knees, overcome by the immediate void, the sense of loss that grew within the planet. The nexus that had slept for generations finally stirred to full wakefulness by that singular act of devastation, wrath and pain radiating outwards with the rest of the darkness that sought to engulf the system.

He stretched out a shuddering hand, pulling on Tython far deeper than he had yet; the shards of Ashla began to slow their descent, starting to stop as he felt himself sinking, lower, deeper, into the ground, the darkness, the pressure—

One shard shattered into dust under the rage of another. The rest were stopped, held, even as he felt himself drawn away, pulled by another. The roiling, seething rage of Tython below him was quelled for just a moment, and he felt himself lighten. Other voices started to pierce through the pressure on his mind, Auteme, Asmundr, urging the others to hold fast, trying to calm the storm in their fellow master even as Auteme pulled against him to try and calm the storm of Tython itself.

Passion, yet serenity, he bid master Sarrat. Tython will amplify your turmoil. The loop feeds itself—and shatters everything else.

He breathed in, reaching out for Asha with his other hand. The weight of Ashla pressed down on his shoulders, and the pull of Tython's rage threatened to pull him apart, dragging him into its darkness. "No." He drew on Tython again, pulling more of its energy through him, to sustain himself, and to inject more of his own sense of will into it. Coruscant, Ossus, Pantora, Csaus, and Utapau had failed to break him. A year of torture under Lord Mythos's hands had failed to drag him into the shadows.

He would not allow Tython itself to do the same. He would not fail, would not betray the position he and Asha had inherited from so many Je'daii before.

With his body straining under the magnitude of the power he was drawing on, he reached out to the others nearby. Ryv and Heinrich, Dagon and Corin, even Rurik; let Auteme, Asmundr, and Henna handle the rest of the Jedi, he would do everything in his power for these five, to put an end to the abomination unfolding before them. The power of Tython flowed through him, carrying with it the power to renew and strengthen tired muscles, to sharpen the reflexes; but also his determination to succeed, and the surety and hope that the galaxy would carry on in spite of the Dark Lord's wishes.

"I'm behind you," he grunted, forcing his eyes open again. "Here if you need me." He almost felt as though the years that had passed him by were rapidly catching up with him; even with the strength of life itself flowing through him and out to his allies, he felt weary. Exhausted. He had no clue how long he could hold out, how long his body could last against the pain of a planet—but it would be long enough, it had to be enough.

His hand found purchase, grasping firmly onto his fellow Je'daii. "Asha, help me up. I have to be at the center of this."
 


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CAPTAIN OF TORTUGA COMPANY
222ND NOVA CORPS | 512TH LEGION | 312 ATTACK BATALLION
TYHON | RUINS OF THE JEDI TEMPLE

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Something told Osarla to raise her arms as if The Force’s will travelled through her muscles and wanted to plume out in an umbrella-like shield above her palms. She followed the desire, and a Force’s bubble blossomed out just in time to prevent a distant guid-sized rock from splattering herself and her immediate company into pancakes of themselves. She looked up just in time to see the rock shatter into smaller pieces against her semi-transparent shield.

Horror overtook the captain’s expression, knotting it into something distasteful.

The skies.

The Nova Corps had hellfire rained down on them before. Salvos of plasma, plasma-stick swinging Sith. On Ziost, it had been buildings. They’d come through the other side.

Never before had it been fractions of a moon.

“Uh oh, mama’s not happy.”

Bits and chunks, near the mountains — within stretching and mass exertion’s reach of the Seeing stone — some rocks were suspended in their trajectory. They moved neither forward nor backward. Just tremoured in their stationary hover.



Hold indeed, Osarla thought as she pressed on through the heavily greyed skies. Her blade remained unlit as she sought a light transport that would navigate her closer to enemy lines. The more the Alliance pressed, the less the MAW could advance.

Air support careened through the skies, expertly weaving through the shards of the fallen moon. Especially as they reached a stasis — the stationary stones were immobilized enough for the HAAT’s to make it to their landing zones. Mostly. About half a dozen.

Half of the half dozen were smoking by the time they touched grass and the soldiers spilled out.

Artillery’s focus remained on the MAw infantry. Those with handheld canons angled upward, belching out streaks of emerald to mitigate the sizeable meteors that threatened the marines around the temple. Parts of the massive moon shattered into smaller bits of dirt and stone about the same time that the blueish shield, generated by the minds of Antarian Rangers, spiderwebbed out of existence.

Before she could help it, Osarla felt a curse lash out, profane and offensive, hot on her tongue.


<"Broken Saber.">

Years ago, that would have turned her belly to water. Now, it only made her gut harden.

Osarla grimaced and made a gesture with her gloved hands. The battalion she was responsible for pressed forward, skirting heavily to the right to avoid the range of the ruined temple by several meters. Their sights were on the trajectory of the crashed star destroyer, and the desire for a clash warmed their bones.




ALLIES | GA | NJO | Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka | Madison Starr | Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser | Celeste Rigel Celeste Rigel | Tracyn Ordo Tracyn Ordo | Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor | Wedge Draav Wedge Draav | Alessandra Io Alessandra Io
FOES | BOTM | The Mongrel The Mongrel | Darth Saevius Darth Saevius | Ardana Vorco Ardana Vorco | SF-3335 SF-3335 | Project Uriel Project Uriel | Darth Libertas Darth Libertas | Rose Dorce


 
AhKkZ0ptBTyC0yi8tL-HzMADOgPJAydNCtQmC29ct_EKVyruzJl0okM1YeATK0-on6r7Nzb5EhZoR01A7s0Wa0dN-aByH99G-5iDG8wu_MzalPkLNi_JAHMliKJAw8Bs2GRgK0sf
Location: Outskirts of the Temple Ruins - Tython
Objective: Engage Tython Accords Forces
Allies: BotM ( Keilara Kala'myr Keilara Kala'myr Erion Justeene Erion Justeene Thomas Barran Thomas Barran Darth Libertas Darth Libertas Romund Sro Romund Sro Darth Saevius Darth Saevius Shai Maji Shai Maji The Mongrel The Mongrel ) │ TK ( Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax )
Enemies: GA ( Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka Osarla Ridor Osarla Ridor ) │ ME ( Kranak Vizsla Kranak Vizsla ) │ NIO ( DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran Aerys Myrrine Asanté Tsilor Asanté Tsilor ) │ Independent ( Maple Harte Maple Harte Jas Katis Jas Katis ) │ SJC (Madison Starr Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser Thurion Heavenshield Thurion Heavenshield ) │ Elysium Empire ( Rex Valhoun Rex Valhoun Zet Reav Zet Reav ) │ AC ( Lehvi Vass Lehvi Vass )
Direct Engagement: Hilal Vizsla Hilal Vizsla

Fire and blood.

It was that which SF-3335 reveled in as she strafed the enemy mortar positions with violent speed, her machine guns and flechette launchers cutting a bloody swath through the formation as she struck down one gunner after another with nigh-impunity. Beneath the glasteel of her helmet, her pale features maintained the glow of a predator well-fed, but her icy gaze was focused and intent. In her wake, a row of mangled, broken, and dying bodies were left, six over a score in number, while the surviving gunners retreated back inside the safety of the shield, carrying any wounded they could find or abandoning those in too dire a state to their fates.

Accelerating from the attack run after riding down her last kill, SF-3335 grunted as she turned on the Crimson Velocity’s afterburners, not failing to notice the explosions in her wake from the antivehicle cannons firing in her direction. Fortunately, the salvo of plasma shells was partially neutralized by the pink gas dispersed by chemical launchers, while the rest she rode out, pushing her bike to its limits as she maneuvered over and around the hills with a mix of precision and daring, very nearly risking a crash in the process.

However, those weren’t the only explosions going off in her vicinity.

Just as she rode her bike flying over a hill, SF-3335 glanced up, her eyes going wide as she saw a storm of meteors descending from the heavens. Soon, they began to strike the earth in a series of booming crashes, forcing the Morellian to summon every bit of riding skill she had to evade them. She jinked sharply to her right, then to her left, dodging a pair of flaming bolides that crashed behind her, leaving small craters in the landscape.

She needed to find her wingmate.

“Sergeant!” SF-3335 shouted over the comms. “There’s some kind of storm!” She continued, grunting as a third bolide struck dangerously close, the shockwave of the impact throwing her bike into a spin, which she quickly recovered by pulling hard on the vanes to countersteer. “Sir, do you copy?!” Her ears were met only with the sounds of continued chaos, violence, and explosions. Even so, the Morellian couldn’t write her wingmate off just yet, knowing that interference from the storm might be blocking communications. However, under such terrible conditions, she knew that he would have called a rendezvous for them to get back together.

They had both escaped death many times within the last two hours. Was their luck beginning to run out?

The screaming of a target lock warning in her ears immediately pulled the Morellian from her thoughts. Glancing at her sensor readout, she reflexively threw her body across the bike, pulling a sharp turn in the direction of the incoming missiles, hoping that they might overshoot. All the while, a mental command triggered the launch of nagnol canisters, a plume of gas going off in her wake that was capable of blocking sensors. Two seconds passed, then two more, each interval seeming to last far longer than just that as the thought of a powerful missile slamming into her bike lingered in the back of her mind, and yet…

Still, she breathed. So long as that was the case, she could survive the hell that Tython was turning into.

Her own sensors temporarily blinded by the gas, SF-3335 swept her gaze over her surroundings, searching for whatever might have fired the missiles towards her bike. Before long, her eyes caught sight of a wheeled tank less than 90 meters away ( Hilal Vizsla Hilal Vizsla ) with gaudy decorations on its armored hull, which yet brimmed with cannons and deadly firepower. Immediately, the Morellian’s instincts took over as she rode her bike around the tank with as much speed as she dared, attempting to get on the vehicle’s side or rear while also keeping clear of its mounted cannons. Simultaneously, she activated her bike’s Phase Masque, effectively turning on a pseudo-lag switch that would distort the Crimson Velocity’s visual profile via an unpredictable stuttering effect, while also dampening its sensor signature. While the hostile vehicle seemed fast and maneuverable for a tank, compared to her speeder bike, it couldn’t have been a match.

All she needed was a good shot on it with her energy torpedoes.


 
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Sergeant Omen

Arc Trooper Sergeant of the 41st Elite Corps
The branchlucker was definitely a surprise and not a welcome one. Thankfully, unlike the Akaan'alor's men, his were out of the animals' initial sweep with its ungainly arms. Omen gestured at the monster to his men, silently ordering them to get their MI-32s off their backs and start to fire sticky detonators onto the beast's legs and then their particle bolts when their ammo was expended. After a couple of seconds though, he got shouted at like usual. Couldn't anyone say please?

Omen gave an audible sigh as he was ordered to go to the cells, supposedly to free any prisoners still kept on board. "You heard him! Orphans, to the cells!" And with that Omen's troops filed out of the hanger and to the prison block, hoping there would be someone left to save when they got there. Omen thought had a much different course that all of those in the hanger would find out soon.

After a few minutes, a crane connected to the roof started to swing towards the red-horned aruetii, hoping to take him off his mount so the rest of the Akaan'alor's party could gang upon him. The crane was piloted by Omen, who snickered all the way. He never got to have this much fun at home so might as well make get all he could of the while there was still one to be had.

SCAR SCAR , Runi Kuryida Runi Kuryida , Romul Saxon Romul Saxon Varik Awaud Varik Awaud
 
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Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr | Mercy
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent | Nite agent | Marauder and Agent of the Maw, Mongrel's advisor
obj1tython.png
Objective: Protect Mongrel and Kallan
Location: Journey's End, Tython
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Assault Rifle | 2x Sunfury Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger | 2x Riftblades | Promise of Freedom || Cloaking Device | 5x ASBF Probe Droid || OPBC-01m
Tags: The Mongrel The Mongrel | Julian Qar Julian Qar | DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran
GM1OQzU.png
[ Doomsday ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~ Telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
9ioNFnk.png

  • Keilara tries to help Kallan.
  • Mercy and Mongrel arrives to Barran's camp.
  • Mercy realises Asher came here to die.
Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr | Mercy
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent | Nite agent | Marauder and Agent of the Maw, Mongrel's advisor
obj1tython.png
Objective: Protect Mongrel and Kallan
Location: Journey's End, Tython
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Assault Rifle | 2x Sunfury Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger | 2x Riftblades | Promise of Freedom || Cloaking Device | 5x ASBF Probe Droid || OPBC-01m
Special Tags: The Mongrel The Mongrel | Thomas Barran Thomas Barran | DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran
[ Doomsday ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~ Telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>

  • Mercy also spends the last night before arriving with Mongrel, reflecting on the past and asks her husband whether the man is proud of her.
  • Keilara does the same with Kallan and sees the beautiful dawn as full of hope.
  • Mercy has countless plans for the future together when she joins her husband to head to the planet.

~ Earlier, en route to Tython | Mongrel and Mercy ~
~ Do you remember our first meeting? ~ I asked him.

In our minds, at home, I lay next to him, hugging him, resting my head on his chest, while in reality I hugged his durasteel body at his shoulders. Over the years I had time to learn how to do it so as not to hurt myself. It was still so unbelievable that after Teta we got married and he was really part of my family. Officially too. Of course, it was still a secret that no one could ever know. Neither at Serenno nor at the Maw. Our secret, forever.

There was what was needed in the information I got on Teta and many other useful things. I also killed three people last week while practicing the method by which I can separate him and Kallan finally as he wished and wanted. The last two attempts were already very hopeful.

~ Soon, it only takes a few more weeks, no more. ~ I promised him, and Keilara also promised Kallan.

I didn't know what would happen then. It is planned that Kallan will be in my mind temporarily until we can transfer him and Keilera to some other body. It was all crazy! And plans… I don't know… nevermind.

~ I'm not thinking of Jakku, but before that, Carlac. ~ I smiled at him.

I’ve been with him almost always since Teta. Now I didn’t go ahead to reconnaissance Tython, I sent my team forward. Although Keilara asked Kallan to wait patiently, I couldn’t be sure he'll endure this. I really fell asleep next to him every day. I asked him if there was any problem, he would wake me up immediately to keep the shields strong. So I didn’t sleep much, took care of him, guarded him and practiced. I'll sleep and rest when I'm dead.

~ Ziare really didn't know who you were, it was her first mission, and you were a new warlord, the Thrice-Born Hound. ~ I still smile at the memory, I remembered all the memories of Ziare, even that day. ~ Ironically, we were the first to try to assassinate you, and later I prevented countless of these which would have been done against you ~

During my words, I touched the parts where Ziare hurt him.

~ Our first words when Ziare asked you, "What kind of devilish creature are you?!" She couldn't have been wrong better. We both almost killed each other that day. A lot has changed since then, in a good direction. ~ I fell silent for a moment. ~ I remember what you said to her, "I am the metal and flesh made one, I am the beast's savage power joined with the machine's cold perfection." No, you're much more than that. Much, much more. ~ I breathed, then I laughed softly. ~ Her words are still amusing me. "I have no idea who you are, you just became the target because your ugliness hurt my sense of beauty." She didn’t even think then how much we would love… everything about you. ~

Again, pause for a few moments while I kissed him briefly in our minds.

~ You called Ziare a coward, and she did the same. You probably weren't wrong, but she was wrong. She wanted you to kill her, to kill us… ~

I was positioned so that I could look him right in the eye, both in our minds and in reality, now I was right and stood in front of him.

~ You thought she was an assassin that day, she wasn't. For her methods, you considered her a coward for the assassination because he worked as an agent and not as a warrior like you, but you saw some fire and spirit in her. I never asked you… ~

I paused for a moment.

~ I became your shadow, your agent, your assassin, before we felt love for each other. I became what you despised in me at our first meeting. Did you hate me, condemn me, and consider me a coward because I served you that way? And do I still serve you in that way? And because I'll serve you in that way until my death in the future? I kill those from the shadows who want to hurt you; I know, sometimes I do this face to face, but I prefer to use others, and not fight in person. I steal information from the enemy for you, to reap victory, not openly fight them. I know I have proven my strength and rank within the Tribe countless times. There are many who consider me as your best people and are afraid of me. However, others consider me a coward because I never tried to get to where Barran is or just try to be your Second-in-command, but I accepted the simple advisor position. ~ I told him.

The simple advisory role was a lie, of course, but no one else knows about it.

~ True, they don't know I'm more than that. That we are friends, confidentials, lovers… and already married. Family. ~ I said softly.

I bit into my lower lip for a moment. From this he could know that a somewhat more serious question was coming. I didn't do this temptingly now, but I was a little confused.

~ I've ever managed to achieve those goals for which you take Ziare with you from Carlac? Are you satisfied and proud of me? Not as your wife, not as the woman you love. But… as a warlord, are you satisfied with what I have done and achieved as a soldier? Did I achieve what you wanted to see when you took her? ~ I asked him seriously, I wanted to know. ~ It occurred to me that you hadn't called us "little shadow-killer" since that day. ~ I smiled at him again. ~ Yet this name suits me much better than it ever has for Ziare. ~ I chuckled a little.

After my words, I watched and listened to him for a long time, in both worlds, in reality, and in our minds. Next to him, I felt calm, secure, and happy. I felt empathy on his side and every other feeling. Not the total disinterest, anger I used to look at the world with. I wish it could last forever, I wish the war would end and I wouldn’t have to worry about losing him. I smiled at him again in both places.

~ How are you today, Lord Kala'myr? ~ I asked kindly and playfully.

I think I liked to call him that, I know it's my… that is, Keilara's last name, which is more ours. But he never mentioned his own, and as Mongrel, he wasn’t having any. So I think it was the most appropriate and appropriate for him and Kallan. I don't care what others say, I thought they deserved it. After my marriage, I actually took the title of Countess of House Kala'myr instead of Baroness, which Ziare should have done years ago. It was my decision as to who would receive the rank of Lord Kala'myr.

Who else would have received it if not our husbands?

~ Ever since you were completely torn apart and you want me to separate both of you, I haven’t called you Kallan because you refer to him that way too. However,… I feel Mongrel is not the right name for you. For me, you are also Kallan and I am fond of that name, but if you don’t like it anymore, would you choose another name for yourself, as I may call you? A name that belongs to me and not to the Maw like the Mongrel does? ~ I asked him in the end.



~ Earlier/Present, inside the mind palace | Kallan and Keilara ~
I still experienced it as a miracle if I could fall asleep and wake up, if Kallan was there with me. It all differed from reality only in that we had no interaction with anyone other than each other. There was no civilization and no other people. Just what MANIAC projected, or just what I imagined and built for us. But really, if we had decided to move to an uninhabited planet, we would still be the only two of us.

It was like that this morning, too. A gift, a miracle. I just didn’t tell him how many people Mercy killed for trying to separate him from Mongrel. I think Kallan would never have accepted freedom at the cost of other people’s deaths. Even if they were like Mongrel. Members of the Maw, victims, brainwashed, destroyed victims, like us.

~ Mercy is close, the next phase is coming soon, which leads us to be free... lead us to freedom. To our new life, together. ~ I told him with a happy smile.

It was easier for me, whatever clone body would have been perfect, from my own body. But Kallan? It wasn’t that simple for him, they no longer had a physical body, the old one probably didn’t exist anymore. If we wanted something like that, we would have had a sample of their brains to make a clone. But that could have hurt him and Mongrel again. But I really loved him, so I would have accepted any body, even an HRD. After the last few years, it really didn’t matter. I was happy with him, even without a physical body, only in our minds.

The first rays of the sun shone into the bedroom. Today it was somehow different, much prettier than usual. When I got out of bed I picked up Kallan's shirt from the ground and put it on to myself. In his shirt, I walked to the window. I looked back at Kallan again with a smile before I opened the window to let in the fresh outside air. The air was fresh and cool with rain and floral scents. As if it really was a paradise. It was so hopeful.

~ Maybe all four of us can be free today. Maybe Mercy is already successful today. ~ I said hopefully.



~ Present, Tython | Mongrel and Mercy ~
As usual, I used the cloaking device to get out of his sanctum to return to my own "room" .It's like I've been there all evening and night. That is, in this case, throughout the journey. As always, I made sure that no one could notice anything of this. I wouldn’t stand the fact if something had happened to him through my fault. If he would look weak, in the eyes of the tribe, because of me.

I still ate and drank something fast, I almost always forget that when I was with him because he didn’t need it. Even a quick cold shower to wake me up even more, a standard dose of coffee and caffeine. Quick check of weapons and armour. Everything was fine. When the order arrived, I set off to the hangar.

Under my helmet, I walked down the aisles of the ship, all the way to the hangars, smiling cheerfully. With each step, my heart was beating harder and harder, I was breathing harder and harder, only from the awareness that I would be there again physically. We have always been together in our connected minds, but still, every time I have these reactions. The pleasant cramp in my belly, the longing to his touch, his kisses, to hear his voice.

Love

I owe him the most beautiful and happiest days of my life. In the meantime, I arrived at the hangar. Here, in the benevolent coverage of my helmet, I watched him as he prepared, handing out orders. My husband; I felt myself the luckiest woman in the galaxy that he was mine and I was his. I was just sorry that no one but the two of us knew about this. And the play had to continue.

I stopped in a military stance at a distance from him where I had to do this as his soldier, as his subordinate and servant.

"Warlord!" I saluted as expected. "This is a good day for victory and the destruction of the unbelievers!"

In our minds, however, I could act like his wife, as an equal to him. I stepped beside him and threaded my fingers between his as I hugged him and cuddled to him.

~ I hope we win soon and get back on board soon. We still have to finish the movie, which we will stop at night. I already miss you! ~ I smiled at him.

I still had so many plans for what we can do, and what we're going to do together after the fights…

And maybe one day we'll even leave the Maw together, hoping for a better life…

For the longed life, together...




obj1tython.png

Cycle of Hatred: Journey's End[/CENTER]


Location: Tython, Flooded Plain
Tags: Keilara Kala'myr Keilara Kala'myr | DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran | Warposting Open

  • The Mongrel speaks with Mercy before the battle
  • The Scar Hounds deploy, moving south from the Crucifix II
    • They are headed for the Jedi Temple ruins
  • The Mongrel follows destiny's call to the East


Before
She lay beside him, the only one who touched him tenderly.

His wife. His trusted ally. His victim.

There was little that the two men within him, locked inside a dying brain encased in a metal shell, could agree on... but they could agree that The Mongrel did not deserve Mercy. He was responsible for what she had become, for all the suffering she had endured and all the suffering she had caused to the galaxy at his order. He listened as she recounted their first meeting, that clash in the snowy streets of Carlac's capital, and he wondered: how much pain could have been avoided for them both if she'd succeeded at ending him?

But that was not why she was telling the story.

She never blamed him, even when she should.

~ I am proud of you, ~ he told her, meeting her gaze and offering a gentle smile. And it was true. He was proud of what she had survived, all the trials she had overcome. There were few warlords who had endured among the ranks of the Maw since Carlac, let alone frontline soldiers or high-risk infiltrators; so many of the Brotherhood's very founders were gone now, and yet here they were, the two of them, the twisted weapons the Taskmaster had made. ~ I am proud of your strength, and your skill, and your loyalty. ~

~ You have always been my most trusted agent. ~


Yes, he was proud of her accomplishments. From a military perspective, capturing her alive had been the best decision he could have ever made. Without her the Scar Hounds would have been annihilated to the last man on Odessen. Without her he would never have recognized the truth about Thomas Barran, who would rise to lead the tribe one day. Without her he would never have recovered his will to live, and The Mongrel's glorious flame would have guttered out to nothing long ago. ~ Without you, I would have nothing. ~

Yes, he was proud of her, and of her many accomplishments.

The shame he felt was only for himself.

It was Kallan's doing, or so he chose to believe. The echo of the man he had been before the Maw, this second personality that still lurked beneath the surface of his mind, was compassionate and empathetic and weak. He dragged The Mongrel down with his guilt, distracting him from the Brotherhood's holy purpose. He could not see what the warlord could see, what the Heathen Priests had opened his eyes to: that the galaxy was too broken to save, and that killing it was a kindness, for only then could something new and better grow.

Mercy had been working hard to find a way to remove this weakness lurking inside him, to separate Kallan from Mongrel, a fate that both personalities were desperate to achieve... but it might be too late now. Dreams had haunted the warlord for months, dreams of a kind he had experienced only once before: when he had been guided to Durace and discovered Thomas Barran, his chosen successor. The Mongrel could not touch the Force, so he knew that these nightmares were sent by the Three Avatars, premonitions of his destiny.

In his dreams, The Mongrel did not leave Tython alive.

His martyrdom was coming. Paradise beckoned.

He did not tell Mercy of this. Soon she would be free of him, and that would be better for her, a release from the torment he had caused her... but she would not see it that way. She would grieve for him, though The Mongrel - plunderer of planets, general of genocides, agent of apocalypse - deserved no mourners. He could only hope that she would heal, or - failing that - pass soon into paradise beside him. Their twisted love could not endure in this galaxy, but if they were reborn by the grace of the gods in the Galaxy To Come...

.... perhaps then they could begin again, freed of sin.

How are you today, Lord Kala'myr? she asked him. She called him by the title she had earned now, for they were joined. ~ I am always well when I am with you, ~ The Mongrel replied, reaching out to gently touch her face. But then she asked him a question, one that sent his mind reeling. She had asked him for a new name once before, and he had given her an old one: Kallan, his self before the Maw. But Kallan had become his own person, recovering his strength, and now The Mongrel was just The Mongrel once more, a Mawite creature.

He had no other name to give her, no name that was his own.

But he did not wish to ever disappoint her.

~ Kallan has returned to who he was, ~ he replied. ~ I cannot. I am what the Brotherhood made me, and Mongrel is the only name I was ever given. It was a term of derision in the beginning, a name they spat at me when I was a lowly slave-soldier, but it came to mean something more. ~ The warlord sighed, closing his eyes. ~ But you have known me in a way they cannot. You are the keeper of all my secrets, and the only one I can love. If you ask me, I will give you another name, one I choose for myself. ~

~ Call me Asher. ~
Among his people, it meant Blessed.

And it fit. She was a blessing to him.

He needed one last blessing.

Deep inside his mind, locked away from Asher's awareness, Kallan watched Keilara rise. He liked to see her in his shirt, to know that she wanted him close to her always. The morning sun played over her skin as it streamed through the window, and he dreamed of a time when they might feel the warmth of the real sun, and not just the illusion they had built from their memories. Mercy was close, Keilara told him, close to finding a way to separate him from the thing that the Maw had placed in control of his tortured body.

He was desperate for that release.

~ I hope so, ~ he told his wife.

He wanted to leave war behind.

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

Now
Tython. A beautiful blue-green jewel in the void.

The Mongrel remembered looking at it, fixing its pristine surface in his mind. When the Brotherhood was finished here, it would be only a memory. The Dark Voice was making this planet, the birthplace of the hated Jedi who had kept the galaxy in stasis for thirty thousand years, the nexus of his final ritual. When his work was complete, when he called the Avatars and opened the way to the Galaxy To Come, all of reality would be rewritten. All kings would fall, all suffering would end, and the cycle would be restored as it was meant to be.

Everyone would have a fresh start. No gods, no masters.

But would he live to see it? The warlord knew that his dreams spoke true, that his end was coming... but he knew not what form it would take. He was no gifted telepath, not like Mercy. Perhaps he would fall in battle here, martyred at last, praying with his final thoughts that he would prove worthy of the impending paradise. Or perhaps the Maw would sweep the field and the Dark Voice would achieve total victory, and his end would come when everything was erased, this corrupted cycle ending so that another could begin. He could not know.

He could only find out.

Mercy approached, and he acknowledged her salute with a nod. In public she was his subordinate, not his equal, and he must show her no deference. "At last we strike at the heart of the Jedi tradition," he replied, letting his booming mechanical voice wash over the row upon row of Scar Hound warriors that packed the hangar bay. "Today we erase the history they desperately cling to. Today we take away their beginning, and become their end!" A thunderous roar of approval echoed up from all around him, chanting his name.

MONGREL! MONGREL! MONGREL!

But he hardly heard them. Inside, Mercy was speaking. She longed to return to the comfort of the house they shared in their minds, to finish the holomovie they'd begun on the long voyage into the Deep Core. In his figurative heart - his real one had long since been removed - The Mongrel knew they would never have the chance. He would not be returning to the Mawite warfleet, one way or another. But he did not want to make her worry, to put her in danger through fearing for him. ~ I can't wait to see how it ends, ~ he told her.

But he didn't really mean the movie.

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

The Battlefield
In the sky, the moon itself shuddered.

Beneath that grim omen, the apocalypse descending upon Tython's once-serene surface, the Brotherhood marched to war. As their brothers the Bloodsworn took up their positions around the Dark Voice's chosen ritual site, prepared to fight to the last in their quest to ensure this reality's end, the Scar Hounds boiled out in a different direction. Theirs was a more traditional objective. The mighty Alliance vessel Prosperity hung over the ruins of ancient Kaleth, the old and the new joined in preserving galactic stasis. That was the target.

Seize the ship. Kill the past.

Though they had been badly depleted by the battles of Nirauan and Odessen, the Scar Hounds had been granted time to recover. The forges of Mar'Zambul, fueled by the melted-down durasteel of a dozen conquered worlds and a thousand stripped battlefields, had been kept hot day and night for a year. Out of them had poured War Skiffs and Raider Walkers and LuchsHai technicals, plus a million brutal weapons of war to arm the fierce tribesmen who would march upon the fields of Tython. Together they would fight and die in glory.

For most of them would die; The Mongrel had no doubt of that. They were in the very heart of Alliance territory, and the entire galaxy was arrayed against them, an even greater force than the Brotherhood had faced at Csilla. There was no escape from this place, not with the endless fleets and armies pouring down from the sky to confront the Avatars' chosen. There was only victory or death, and even victory would only come in death for the vast majority of the warriors who fought here. But they knew no fear. Paradise was waiting.

"March south!" The Mongrel commanded, his voice like the grinding of tectonic plates as it echoed across the field. "Seize the ruins of the Jedi Temple, for it is from there that we will launch our assault on their crumbling city! Die well, my warriors. This is our greatest test, and the Avatars are watching. A million saints shall be raised to glory in the wake of this battle!" For a moment, utter stillness greeted his words, the warriors all around him hanging on every syllable. Then, slowly, a great thump. Then another. Thump.

The noise crescendoed, a gradual rise, as more and more Scar Hounds beat their weapons against their armored chests. In the space of thirty seconds it grew from a whisper to deafening thunder, the salute of men and women unafraid to seek a worthy death. This was the greatest battle the galaxy had seen in centuries, one lone army of the faithful against every last one of the Great Powers, and all of them were eager to meet whatever fate the gods had chosen for them here. The traditional cry soon rang out above even the pounding:

"WAR! DEATH! REBIRTH!"

In a great wave, the warriors of the Scar Hounds tribe rolled southward, War Skiffs leading the charge while walkers, speeders, bikes, and hordes of warriors filled the space between and behind them. The wet mud and tender reeds of the flooded plains squelched beneath their trampling feet as they advanced, making their way toward higher ground - and the ancient Jedi Temple that lay there, a relic of their foes. Beyond it lay Kaleth, the Prosperity, and the key to their ultimate destiny. One step at a time, they would find glory.

But The Mongrel? He did not join them.

The warlord felt a tug within his metal frame, a mental call that he recognized as the voice of destiny. There will be another place for you, it whispered. A final clash, the end of your cycle. ~ I must go, Mercy, ~ Asher told her. ~ I feel... I feel a call. The gods are beckoning to me, and I must follow. What I do here will shape the course of this battle. ~ He turned and mounted his speeder bike, feeling the hum of the engine vibrating up through his chassis. One last ride. He wished he could feel the wind on his face as he went.

Perhaps in the next world he would.


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1st post
OPERATION: SHATTERPOINT
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Objective: Fight the Mongrel

THE_WOAD
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Lord-General of IMPAF (Imperial Armed-Forces)
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LOADOUT
Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore

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Father's Parrying-Vibroknife
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Allies (NIO/Enclave/Hellion): Rurik Fel Rurik Fel Annor E-059 Rose Dorce Hall Mannarra
Julian Qar Julian Qar Bex Tarring Aerys Myrrine Jas Katis Jas Katis Asanté Tsilor Asanté Tsilor Ollis Barran

Enemies (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


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COMETS COLLIDE: ORDER VS. CHAOS - PROLOGUE
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Mt. Kalikori, Tythos Ridge,
Temple Valley, Tython (Late-Autumn of 876 ABY)

Life - like a bow;
The mind - like the arrow;
The target to pierce - the
supreme spirit;

To join mind to spirit as the shot arrow hits it's target.
Excerpt from,"The Markandeya Purana"

Finding a small, abandoned sanctuary near the highest plateau on Mt. Kalikori, the Lord-General and his Guard-Captain were both gladdened to find a place to meditate and ready their hearts for the battle at daybreak, though this was still a cloudy night away yet, and the previous night's sun was still setting in the west. Lord Carwood and Lord Erskine had both made a vow beforehand, deciding whilst returning to Bastion from Kestri that theirs would be the first boots on Tython's rocky, though soil-rich ground. Having landed as far south as possible, though not so far that winter-gear would be needed, swoop-bikes would be used in the process of finding their little perch to pray in, scraping chassis-plates off almost every rocky surface on their way up to Marulek's should as they went. The bikes were disposable, as they had no intention of using them beyond that point, as everything they needed for the next day's fight had been brought with them.

But for Erskine, this really hadn't consisted of much at all, as only a sword, a parrying-dagger, sleeping-bag, toiletries and MREs had been brought on the Stormchaser's part.

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Whether fate has it that I live or die the-moraw, this auld war-hound has ay'thing he needs. Ay'thing!

The sunset would cast a myriad of fiery colours across the sky for a time, though the two old Goidels had walked back inside the small sanctuary by the time it dimmed to a little red ball that melted into the oceans in the west, resting the world before the following days of madness, perhaps the last sunset that world would ever know.

'Thank you for joining me here, Carwood. Thank you for all of it, every last moment.'

Kneeling at an altar that lacked iconography of any sort, long gone to pillaging and decay alike, the Lord-General and his trusty captain had been praying together in silence, though a rather strong gust of wind beating against the brickwork from outside had disturbed their serenity. Then, as soon as Barran broke the silence between them, McGechin nodded his reciprocation before replying,'Wouldn't miss it for the universe, Br'er. An' Brief though this calm may be, moments of meditation like this are sure t'go a long way when the storm hits.', lifting his head to stare beyond the clouds through a gap in the roof, inhaling sharp bliss through his nostrils with the self-assurance that Paradise would be watching. Erskine understood it well, but knew the dark times that Carwood braved in his absence helped the Lord-Captain reach a greater understanding of faith's meaning in wartime, a pillar of strength that both men would gladly lean on - time and time again.

'We're going into the greatest crucible of our time, Carwood. Of course He is watching! Along with all who walk on Paradise.'

With silent agreement nodded in reply, both Lairds would return to their mutual state of silent reflection, letting the gusts outside beat against the sturdy rock as the men inside began to take therapeutic, relieving comfort from it. For the gusts were natural, following the weather patterns of a planet the New Jedi Order had been making hospitable for some time before the older gentlemen showed up to ready their hearts for the impending battle. Pretty she appeared from orbit, and like anyone would expect from a pair of cantankerous old warriors, Carwood and Erskine were all too keen to use every excuse in the book to see the lush landscape with their own eyes, paying dividends by the time they set their three-hour watch pattern for the night. Barran would take first watch, being restless and unwilling to sleep anyway, so allowing McGechin to sleep would be of no annoyance, especially not with the thoughts that were plaguing the Stormchaser's mind at the time.

I wonder how much this war has changed you, old friend....

I guess I'll find out in the morning.

Of this, the Lord-General could be more sure than with anything else in his mind that night, but in the generalised slant, fate would then have it that everyone else would learn of this earlier than most.

With daybreak came the shunt to action by the knighted Lord-Captain, nothing out of the ordinary, and certainly not as they shared a small gas-heated hob to cook the breakfast-segments of their MREs in apprehensive silence. Much would be owed to their equally acute senses of gut-instinct in the following minutes, as the sunrise would light up the entrance of an enemy vessel - making what was looking to be an explosive crash-landing.

'It's time, Erskine. You've got a fight to prepare for.... Does the Mongrel know where t'meet ye?'

With his eyes looking to the smoking northern horizon, the Lord-General responded,'Aye, that he does. Island at the lake where we landed, chose it weeks ago.... Chose the L-Z wae this in mind.', almost absentmindedly as he drawled in a quiet, though resolute tone. Lighting two cigarettes and passing one to Lord Carwood, Lord Erskine would allow the silence to take hold for a little while longer, enjoy what would be his last moment of calm on Tython until he concluded,'If the Mongrel wins, protect Michael. Your politics will differ, but trust me when I say his heart is truer than most.', with thoughts drifting to those of his family for what felt like the hundredth time since he departed for Tython. However, this time was different, as it felt very to Barran that his mind was treating him to warmer thoughts for the last time that day, almost just in case it was for the last time as a living, breathing soldier of the Empire.

There is much and more that I regret, but also much and more I wouldn't change for anything.

'Aw'right then, Carwood. Lead the way.'

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COMETS COLLIDE: ORDER VS. CHAOS - PART 1
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The Lonely Isle, Lake Kaleth,
Temple Valley, Tython (Late-Autumn of 876 ABY)


<"McGechin to Lance One! Not sure if you'll be able to see 'em or not, but I know for a fact you'll feel the landings of the Imperial contingent soon enough. Nothing but Sabretooth, IMPAF, and affiliated units in the sky at the moment, so it looks like we won't be waiting long to act.">

Like clockwork, we taught them well.

<"Barran to Lance Two! Good to hear, as I was hoping we wouldn't be kept waiting long. Daybreak was the order, so all is happening according to schedule - an' aw it took was a flooded valley t'get them chompin' at the bit.... Bloody good show, Carwood. Bloody good show indeed.">

The walk from the mountain sanctuary had served as a depressing reminder of those who existed and died there before, with entire village-communities gone to leave their homesteads, hamlets and villages in varying states of decay and derelict ruin, understanding from the offset that the Imperials would be fighting on the bones of peaceful people everywhere the two Goidels went thereafter. A stark reminder of the path they had chosen to walk in the wake of all they'd destroy in the pursuit of victory, stripping every last shred of dumb, vainglorious ego from their psyches in an old adherence to the,"No heroes, only soldiers.", philosophy. A necessary reminder, for Lord Carwood in particular would be in need of it, as there were many and more mistakes for the Lord-Captain to avoid in the following hours, and only one important error for the Lord-General to worry about in contrast.

<"Simple things that bring the initiative intae oor hauns every time, sir.... How ye keepin' anyways?">

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<"Enjoyin' a wee campfire, though seems I just missed the one who lit it. Otherwise, I'm ready; come what may, I'm ready.... Be safe o'er there, Carwood. If I survive, I want to believe you've been trying to survive also.">

Looking to the brightening skies above, the Lord-General knew that losing more of those he considered friends and family alike (including prized subordinates and peers who'd be taking the field that day) would probably break him, but assuming this to be his last duel either way, the safe understanding that his chain of command would remain intact kept the old Woad from grimacing apprehensively; along with the fact Lord Carwood was cut from the same warriors' cloth, an assurance of sorts that would count little for anyone who wasn't of noble Goidelic stock in McGechin's place, essentially functioning as the power-punching ace up Barran's sleeve in his absence. If the Sword o' The Rivers could prevail against all odds on his own against the likes of the Death Druids, and in the complete absence of Erskine's ilk throughout, then such a man would surely possess the spinal fortitude needed to fit the daunting role of makeshift-general.

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Is the survivor still in there? He's been unshakable since the reconquest anyway.
He couldn't help but wonder, couldn't help but think on how much the old brawler had been put through, even before the fight for Dromund Kaas, but deep down Erskine knew that there was much that remained of the main who held firm at his side on Csaus, and perhaps some of the killer instinct that singlehandedly kept the Heartlands from falling into Sith-Loyalist hands. And yet, nothing would be able to prepare the Lord-General for the following response, as no pleasant surprise would ever match the relief that was about to wash over Barran's entire nervous system as a result of the impending response.

<"Oh, don't you worry about me. Complacency is death in the field, nae rest until we're well shot o' this place.... We aren't here for glory, Erskine. We're here to win!">

I dare say he is.... Good man.
Poking the campfire into life again with an already-charred conifer stick, the old Woad chuckled lightly to himself, happily wheezing to himself with the confidence in his oldest surviving friend returning rather rapidly, letting the warmth of the moment wash over him as if it was a random headache being washed away by soluble painkillers. It was all he needed, the only thing left for Barran to worry about, but with every last issue cast to the winds like the smoke kicked up from the flames before him, there was no longer anything holding the Stormchaser back - nothing keeping that hand from grasping at the grip of his sword any more either.

Much was the soul in the blade toying with him in that moment, as she had on numerous occasions of late, though the most distinctive, raw memory of the hold such eerie power held over the Lord-General would be none other than his fight with Darth Lucid on Dromund Kaas. Fingers danced around the thistle-engraved pommel in consideration of this, letting the memory of his faith in the sword send rushes up and down his spine with a near-narcotic level of intensity, for faith in self and high powers alike had kept a lightsabre from beheading him that day, for the skill in blade and cunning wasn't quite enough until the ultimatum of life and death brought it out from within his soul at the pinnacle moment. Such moments had occurred before against other opponents, and though a portion of those had not amounted to success, the greater number yet had solidified his faith in the ecstasy of assured survival, all with faces Lord Erskine would remember in moments he though to be his last.

<"Just what I like ti hear.... Until we see each other again, my old friend. Lance One out!">

With nothing further to add, and nothing further to declare, all between the veteran officers had been said with finality, leaving Lord Erskine alone to wait for his greatest rival in life, silently staring into the flames as everyone and everything else on Tython braced for what was already looking to be the wildest battle of the Second Great Hyperspace War. Barran knew it, McGechin knew it, everyone did; the Stormchaser would consider this as the flames danced before his wayward gaze, dwelling on the curiosity that was whether all had felt it as intensely as he had, that sinking feeling in the gut - that existential dread.

But something stirred in the distance, breaking the old Woad from his thousand-yard reverie with an alerting shock to his system.

First, it was the sound of solid wood scraping against wet gravel, then the clearly recognisable sound of a heavy, metallic walking cadence on the same surface drawing nearer with every step. These were the treads of a cyborg, almost too-easily recognisable to the ears of the Lord-General, snapping twigs underneath such weighty force as they entered into the treeline beyond the shore, estimated moments later to be heading in from the west as the rhythmic cadence of the stomps steadily thumped louder on approach. However, these steps weren't the kind of heavy Barran had been waiting for, they didn't come across as Scar Hound-heavy at the time, something else that Lord Erskine had learned to recognise almost too-easily in his time fighting the Maw. This was someone else entirely, and someone Erskine knew well, and unexpected though the new arrival had been, the cyborg's presence would find a warm welcome waiting for him regardless.

'I'm glad it's you, Julian.... Come grab a pew somewhere by the fire, we can wait on the Mongrel the-gither.'

Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr | Mercy
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent | Nite agent | Marauder and Agent of the Maw, Mongrel's advisor
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Objective: Protect Mongrel and Kallan
Location: Journey's End, Tython
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Assault Rifle | 2x Sunfury Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger | 2x Riftblades | Promise of Freedom || Cloaking Device | 5x ASBF Probe Droid || OPBC-01m
Tags: The Mongrel The Mongrel | Julian Qar Julian Qar | DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran
[ Doomsday ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~ Telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>

  • Mercy gets Mongrel's chosen name, Asher.
  • Keilara is cute and happy with Kallan.
  • Mercy accompanies Asher on his journey.

~ Earlier, en route to Tython | Asher and Mercy ~
I knew both Mongrel and Kallan thought he didn’t deserve me. Keilara and I thought the same thing about Kallan. I mean, Kallan doesn't deserve us. But that was my right to decide who deserved me and who didn’t. And I always thought he deserved me. He was really the first and only one to treat me normally; ironically, given how the Galaxy considers him. To a monster. It wasn't that there was a completely different man behind the Warlord's mask. No one else knows this but I.

My husband; and that is why I did not make the mistake of thinking it was invincible. Before I really got to know him and Kallan, I only saw the legend. The person who, like Ziare, survives everything and is unable to die. Never, for a moment, did I worry about me. The distant, mighty, inaccessible warlord. These were exactly what made me start to be attracted to him. I wanted to be better and better that he notices me. Finally, I needed Ignatius Rausgeber to do this.

What would have been our fate if Rausgeber hadn’t blown up the ship and I never kissed Mongrel’s tank and told him that if he had a body, it really would have been a normal kiss? Before him, Ziare had no relationship nor I, none, only him. One of my most feared and dark secrets, which made Ziare seem even weaker and more pathetic. No one has lived anymore from those who knew this. Only he; I told him that after the wedding. Not even Kallan knew. I think he would never bear this…

I responded to the gentle smile with a similar smile, my eyes gleaming happily. I was happy to be here next to him, next to the one person who really mattered in the galaxy. For whom I would have endured any pain or suffering. I would have killed anyone for it, destroyed anything for it. He didn't even have to ask. In the nearly a decade since Carlac happened, I’ve always been there for him, as an agent, then as a lover, then as a love interest, and as a wife.

If they'd ever found out, they'd both kill us - but I was able to protect him, even keep our relationship a secret from the Taskmaster and everyone else.

~ I'm glad that you think so! And thank you! ~ I whispered to him. ~ Have I ever said that it has always been my intention… from the first moment to be indispensable and irreplaceable for you? True, I didn't mean like this, for understandable reasons, but in a militarily way. But I’m glad it came true as a companion as well. ~

As he touched my face, I closed my eyes and smiled contentedly. I was fond of his touch, he was gentle, kind. He was capable of tenderness and kindness that no one would have ever thought of. It didn't make him weak. I shook my head at his words, I disagreed with him. I rested my hand on his chest and so I looked down at him while we were still lying in the bed and looking deep into his eyes. I didn’t like it when he talked about himself like there was no one.

~ You are more than what the Brotherhood made you. Much more. You have evolved, not just a tool either in their hands or in the hands of the Avatars. The fact that we are here now, that you are able to love me, to feel in my direction, these show this too. These all made you stronger, better, not weaker. ~ I told him.

When he uttered his new name, I smiled broadly and kissed him briefly.

~ Thank you! That means a lot to me. I haven't liked calling you Mongrel since Odessen. Before that, when there was only a desire between us, it didn’t really matter. But since we love each other, it feels bad. It's so degrading, humiliating. You are more than a "mongrel". If to no one else, for me anyway. I know the man behind the legend and you honoured me with your trust and with your love. As well as sharing your secrets and yourself with me. Your secrets and you, both are safe with me. ~ I whispered.

I took his hand, kissed him in the palm of his hand first, and then carried his hand over my heart as I embraced his palm with my own two

~ Now and forever, Asher! ~ I smiled at him. ~ Does the name have any meaning?~



~ Present, inside the mind palace | Kallan and Keilara ~
I was still standing by the window for a few moments before turning back to Kallan with a slightly disapproving face. It was kind of a romantic moment, when I thought... I was waiting and longing that he'll walk behind me and hug me from behind. But he didn't come. I smiled and shook my head. I left the window open, then walked back to the bed and sat down on the edge. To the part where he was and I glanced down at him.

~ It looks very lazy today, Lord Kala'myr! Maybe I should let the staff or droids know to help you get out of bed?~ I asked with played disapproval. ~ After all, you obviously can't do it alone. ~

I flicked his nose playfully and smiled wide at him. I wasn't able to mad at him, not even for a moment.

~ I see marriage having a very bad effect on you and making you lazy. ~ I laughed softly and happily.

I tried to stay happy and be optimistic on his side. I was hoping that day would come with our freedom as soon as possible.



~ Present, Tython | Asher and Mercy ~
I walked all the way through the warriors; I know it was a great glory to have someone have cybernetic implants and thus they become better. So far, I have avoided any injuries that would have resulted this. I became one of the best and I never had to make up for anything. I was different from them. All the soldiers were his, but I was his in a different way. They only saw the warlord, and I saw Asher. Not a moment of my loyalty and respect faded. Not even when I could have abused that. I just protected and loved him.

I just wanted an ideal world where we could be together without the many thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of warriors around me not wanting to kill us, because we loved each other. So far, I’ve been close to him, as you would expect from your advisor. I looked down at the warriors as his name was chanted, but I could barely hear him, not paying attention to him. I only smiled for a moment at their religious worship, but I also felt contempt because I knew he didn't know any of their names. Most will die anonymously today.

Most will never stand out like he or I do. I smiled at him after his words.

~ Yes, I'm waiting too. ~ I was wondering what the end of the holomovie would be…

Down on the planet, my own troops sent the data, which I also passed on to the appropriate officers. It was unusual, I didn't do the reconnaissance. Not now, I just stayed with him, on his side. It was necessary, and I enjoyed all the time we spent together. After all, before every fight, I was scared and worried it would be the last one for one of us, but I feared only because of losing him, not because of my own death. I also listened to the orders among the officers, and then watched as they set out south.

I didn't move either. For some reason, I was unable to go to any vehicle, or just the huge dog droid, to ride on the back of the fight. I watched him under the hiding of my helmet. I also felt something through the relationship between the two of us. I felt something touch our minds, but the message wasn’t for me, it was for him. From somewhere, remotely, maybe not even from this world. Most of Ziare’s family was Sith, I knew the afterlife existed, I knew there was a good chance that the Avatars were existing entities.

~ I felt it too, Asher. Though not what they want, but that, yes, something has been said to you. I will go with you. It is my duty as your advisor… and as your wife. As always, I'll accompany you on your journey. And last but not least, someone needs to take care of you, someone needs to protect you. ~

I didn’t know where we were going, but I got up behind Asher on the bike and hugged his metallic waist to keep me from falling. It was the first time I could embrace him so that no one could even accidentally suspect that there were more of us than commander and subordinate relationship.

I don’t know where we’re going, but I would follow him, even to hell. As I promised, I swore to him that I would always be by his side and support him.



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Cycle of Hatred: Journey's End


Location: Tython, Journey's End
Tags: Keilara Kala'myr Keilara Kala'myr | DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran | Julian Qar Julian Qar

  • The Mongrel and Mercy head for Barran's camp


Before
You are more than what the Brotherhood made you, she told him. The Mongrel - no, Asher, at least inside his head - wanted to believe her. Perhaps the simple act of giving himself a new name was enough to prove that. He had been able to hide his true self, the self that lived and loved beyond the Maw, from even the mighty Taskmaster. Through all this time, all these battles, he'd been so much more than even his closest allies knew. All except Mercy, the one who had made it all possible, who had made his mind strong and whole again.

But was that truly an escape from the Maw? In the end, he was still their creature. There was nowhere else in the galaxy he could go, nothing else he could do but fight for them. If he gave up on their holy mission, stopped seeking martyrdom in the name of the Avatars, then he would be admitting that all the horrible things he'd done were for nothing. He couldn't live with that. He had to believe, had to keep going along the path that the Dark Voice had set for him. It if was all meaningless, if it didn't matter, he hadn't just been a monster.

He'd been a pointlessly cruel monster.

She liked his name, liked what he shared with her, and he smiled. He loved to see her happy, the way a smile lit up her features... but he dared not think about it for too long. How many smiles had he denied her when he'd stolen her life? ~ On my world, Asher means 'blessed', ~ he told her, running a hand through her hair. ~ I chose it because you have been a blessing to me. ~ But I have been a curse upon you. She had healed him, brought him back from the brink... and he had given her so much hardship and horror and pain.

He was blessed, but he was no blessing.

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

Within
Mercy walked back to him, flicking him on the nose, teasing him for his laziness. ~ I was just admiring the view, ~ he told her, offering her a laugh and a wink. And she did look good in his shirt, filling it out in all sorts of interesting ways. She distracted him - her beauty, her smile, her laugh, her little teasing quips. And he needed to be distracted. Outside this room, outside this little piece of paradise in their minds, he could feel reality like a half-remembered dream. He knew a battle was coming, another time when The Mongrel would fight.

When he would kill good, honest people.

And Kallan couldn't stop it.

~ Be lazy with me, ~ he told his wife, taking her hand and pulling her back to the bed. ~ Let's stay here a little longer, just you and me. All I want to think about is you. ~ He needed her, needed her help to block out the horrors at the edge of his awareness, the evil things that the man who'd been put inside his body would do. He wanted to curl up with her and shut out the whole galaxy, forget everything they'd been through, pretend that reality was the dream and this was all there really was. Maybe one day he'd do it all for real.

Until then, he wanted to pretend.

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

Now
At first, it was just a feeling, a call that came to his mind as if from the gods. It was probably only because of Mercy that he could sense it at all; The Mongrel had no connection to the Force, no ability to sense such things, and only his wife's telepathy could connect him to that wider world of mystical power. He knew enough to follow it, to go east across the hills and plains of this pristine world, heeding the call of the Avatars. But he did not know where he was going, or why. He simply obeyed, as he always did. Such was faith.

It wasn't until the coordinates pinged on his comm that he realized what it all meant. He knew the sender, understood the message and what it meant. As soon as he laid eyes on it, he knew why he'd been called here, what his dreams had signified. Barran. For ten years and more they had been commanders on opposing sides of this war, equal opposites bound together by a bloody destiny. Sometimes they had clashed directly, other times through champions and proxies and armies. But always they had been one another's rivals.

He respected no outsider more...

... but this was the end.

That was the way the cycle worked - apex to nadir to apex, rise and fall and rise, an endless circle, a crashing of waves upon the shore. They had been doing this for too long to continue without resolution. This time there would be no disengaging, no quirk of fate that would spare them from taking one another's lives. The duel that was about to begin, this Journey's End, would be final for one of them... or perhaps both. Some part of The Mongrel had known from the moment he'd met Barran that it would all have to end this way.

The Mongrel had won the last rounds of their contest, a battle fought not with blades but with lives. He had taken away Erskine's champion, Shai Maji Shai Maji , the Wardog, and turned her to the service of the Maw. And he had made Erskine's own flesh and blood, his wayward son Thomas, into his successor. That was the warlord's vile Mawite gift - to corrupt all that he touched, turning the things that Barran had set against him back on their sender. But in a cycle such as this, blows were struck in turns... and that did not bode well for The Mongrel.

This would be either his final victory, or Erskine's vengeance.

"It's Barran," he told Mercy. "He's calling to me."

She would come with him, of course. He thought about turning her away, sparing her the sight of this last, mortal duel... but she was part of him, his love and his strength, and he was not sure he could face this ending alone. Perhaps that was selfish, but he doubted he could have talked her out of coming along no matter how hard he'd tried. She'd felt the call of destiny too. ~ Thank you, ~ he whispered to her. She always did take care of him, always found her way back to her place at his side, no matter what happened.

But she could not save him this time.

Mercy's arms encircled his metal waist, and the speeder bike kicked into gear. It streaked across the fields, heading for the campsite where Erskine and his closest friend even now awaited them. Soon the warlord could see the little trail of smoke curling up from the campfire the old general had built, and he guided his vehicle toward it. The noise of the battle faded into the background, and the world became oddly peaceful and still. Deep inside, Kallan stirred, remembering a camping trip he'd taken as a child. Better days. Kinder times.

They were nearly there now.

To the place this would all end.

Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr | Mercy
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent | Nite agent | Marauder and Agent of the Maw, Mongrel's advisor
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Objective: Protect Mongrel and Kallan
Location: Journey's End, Tython
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Assault Rifle | 2x Sunfury Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger | 2x Riftblades | Promise of Freedom || Cloaking Device | 5x ASBF Probe Droid || OPBC-01m
Tags: The Mongrel The Mongrel | Julian Qar Julian Qar | DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran
[ Doomsday ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~ Telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>

  • Mongrel/Asher and Mercy head for Barran's camp.
  • Keilara is still happy with Kallan.

~ Earlier, en route to Tython | Asher and Mercy ~
I knew we never agreed on one thing, and that was that I never, but never considered him a monster. He considered himself to be like that, just like Kallan. Even in the subconscious, Ziare told Kallan that if he thought that, he should consider us that too. I was like Mongrel. If he's a monster, so am I. He was chained to Maw, I volunteered for their service, out of gratitude for freeing me from Ziare's subconscious, and with the help of the Taskmaster, I locked him there. He was able to take control for a long time, but in the end, I defeated her, and even Keilara became stronger than she ever was.

Maybe I didn’t kill millions, billions like him, personally or with my orders. But since Carlac, he has used the information I gave him for this. Based on what he said, my war crimes are just as great as his. We were the same, maybe that’s why we found each other, just like Keilara and Kallan.

In the many years since I was with him, especially since I knew I loved him and not just did my duty, or whatever he commanded, I was almost always happy on his side. Of course, there were more melancholy days when we dreamed and longed for a distant, common life, away from the Maw, but he gilded my days. I looked at him with pleasure, smiled at him. Without him, the days would have been dark, monotonous, and uninteresting. Isn't that love after all? To make someone happy and smile at someone you love?

The smiles, the joy, the happiness and mirth he caused with his words, his presence, his deeds… to me.
When he answered my question as to why he chose this name, I felt myself blush and I lowered my eyes in confusion. I hadn’t blushed many times in my life, at most out of anger, but he was the only one who could embarrass me. I killed others for compliments and when they tried to approach me. Not only a single person in the tribe died because of this, before Asher and since we were together. I bit my lower lip in confusion, my face still burning and red when I looked at him. On my lips were a little confused, but a touched and warm smile appeared, and my eyes were still glistening happily.

~ I… ~ I started confused, my heart beating fiercely here and in reality as my cheek burned after his words. ~ No one has ever said such a nice thing to me. I'm glad you feel that way as well, as I feel about you. And I love you, Asher! Now and forever! ~ I whispered to him.

I still smiled kindly as he was running his hand through my hair, then I caressed his face and finally I leaned close to him and kissed him.



~ Present, inside the mind palace | Kallan and Keilara ~
I laughed with him and smiled as I got the same reactions to my words and deeds. I never wanted to say that I did it partly to make sure you didn’t see and feel anything of what was going on out there. I know Mercy does that too, but she couldn’t be done every minute of the day. Especially with that little sleep as Mercy has slept since Noris.

Admiring the view. I blushed for a moment, but I frowned in my thoughts, and my gaze became lour for a moment. Here, my appearance, my skin, was normal in our minds. Kallan never saw what I really was. It was only Mongrel that he saw Mercy that our whole body was wounded, still kept the traces of tortures.

I was hoping if I really got a new body, that clone wouldn't be like that, it wouldn't be damaged, scarred. Not to remind me of the many horrors from my old life. A new beginning.

~ I'm glad you think so. ~ I said, still blushing.

I was still smiling and laughing as he took my hand and pulled me back into bed. Now I looked into his eyes up close as I rested my head on the pillow again. I continued to smile and finally pulled close to him so I could cuddle to him.

~ I think a little extra laziness fits into my busy daily routine. ~ I winked at him.

I liked to feel the warmth of his body, his scent, his touch. I closed my eyes contentedly, then finally looked at him a little worriedly at the last words. I caressed his face anxiously and turned his face toward me.

~ Is there a problem, my love? You know I'm always here. ~ there was a worry in my voice as well, as I hugged him gently and caressed him back, caring and gently.



~ Present, Tython | Asher and Mercy ~
I didn’t really understand the Force; I had some theoretical knowledge that I owed to Ziare, but nothing more. It was Freedom who was a Force user but only in the Netherworld. To the best of my knowledge, I was not even a Force sensitive and my telepathy is the legacy of my Umbaran blood. I may be wrong, but both worked the same way anyway. I knew that. However, I couldn’t tell if another ordinary telepath or a Force user was sending a message. I don't know now either.

The arrival of the message was felt by me, too, at least that I felt something distracting him. At any time I would have been able to read his mind, learn all about it. Everything, his most feared secrets, everything he didn’t tell me. I never did. I never looked into his memories, his thoughts. Our minds have long been essentially one; but I have always left his personal space, his private sphere.

I don’t deny, it happened several times that I wanted to know something, but I didn’t take the information. It was a long time before I earned his trust, I never did anything that would break that trust. I loved and respected him so much more. And I didn’t do anything he wouldn’t have allowed. I didn’t modify his memories and I could have listed what I never did. I glanced at him when he finally spoke.

Barran; I almost asked which one, but it wasn't needed. I knew exactly that Erskine would be the one here and not Michael. About where "Tommy" was, I knew exactly.

"Wouldn't it be easier to bombard that place? With that, we could already break a significant portion of the NIO force." I asked him.

And of course, that would ruin Barran's call and plans perfectly. This is the first time I've started to worry about this.

~ You don't have to say thank you to me for that, it's natural! ~ I whispered back with a smile, kindly.

While we were progressing, I hugged him in our minds, at home too, and of course, if he was open to me, I was happy to talk to him about general things, nothing serious that would have had anything to do with fighting or war. At home, in our minds, we didn’t have to deal with that. However, travelling this way on the bike was surprisingly pleasant.

~ We could do this in the future more than once, I would be happy with it! ~ I laughed softly, happily. ~ I don’t know why we haven’t done this several times in recent years. ~

I had already seen the camp in the distance, I was overwhelmed by the bad feeling again.

~ What do you think; why does he want to meet you here? ~ I asked him.



2nd post
OPERATION: SHATTERPOINT
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Objective: Fight the Mongrel

THE_WOAD
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Lord-General of IMPAF (Imperial Armed-Forces)
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LOADOUT
Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore

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Father's Parrying-Vibroknife
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Allies (NIO/Enclave/Other): Rurik Fel Rurik Fel Annor E-059 Rose Dorce Hall Mannarra
Julian Qar Julian Qar Bex Tarring Aerys Myrrine Jas Katis Jas Katis Asanté Tsilor Asanté Tsilor Ollis Barran
Saul Tagge Asmus Omaand Alessandra Io Alessandra Io Kal Madison Starr Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor Rex Valhoun Rex Valhoun
Don Belkora Rika Hiro

Enemies (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 Scylla AI Scylla AI Ronar


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COMETS COLLIDE: ORDER VS. CHAOS - PART 2
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Command Tent, Southern Kalesh Plains,
Temple Valley, Tython (Late-Autumn of 876 ABY)

'Haw, Martin! Any personal targets the-day?'

Gathered at the windswept command tent by Lake Kalesh's rocky western shoreline, all the section-commanders and officers serving with the Imperials that day would gather to spend their time in quiet peace before the fight ahead, calmly readying their hearts for the impending fight as they all chatted and drank together, almost as if it were just a regular training exercise. The only things distinguishing such ease from the underlying pre-fight tension and jitters alike consisted of gazes darting back and forth, with wide-eyed intensity poorly hidden behind their otherwise confident demeanours, the occasional crushing silences, and the fact that not many among them had much of an appetite for sustenance in these moments either. However, Knight-Captain Wyll had been breaking his fast quite contently by the time Lord-Major McGechin tossed his question across the map-holographic table, displaying an altogether different philosophy as he replied,'Anything that speaks, moves, fights and looks like a Shi'iDo.... For Gorman!', tucking into his meal almost immediately after.

You'll be lucky t'find one this time. But fair play aw the same, Br'er.

Chomping into what he expected to be his last meal, giving the sick-stomachs a show to fuel their rage, but also doing so as a statement - gesturing with absolute confidence that no warrior should die on an empty stomach.

'You fight for Lieutenant Gorman, I'll fight for Captain Massoud. Beatified Imperials, sainted warriors both.... Sound like a plan?'

Wyll chuckled under breath, though the comment was well-received by most in the room, though when both the human IMPAF-knights looked up to see what Rosk'Aiar's point of view would be, the simple sign-language left no confusion as to whom the Grave-Tusken was referring. "All-Heart", was a simple hand-sign for the NIO's first Tusken Captain to express, and at the same time a simple sign for all the others to understand, easily given validation by a ragged cheer of approval from everyone as soon as they saw it. The story of the Embers' last stand, along with that of the other upstanding members of the 117th, had become something of a legend in their demise; though many of the tale-tellings were being confirmed as true already, and despite the information blackout on most of the events that transpired on Noris, legends (both true and unconfirmed alike) on the matter of Captain Remmel Karsh in particular had obviously lit a rather fierce, infuriating fire in the Grave-Tusken's gut since.

'Looks like we're all set, lads. Well, we definitely have the Saints on our shoulders anyways.', Sir Martin smiled to start, trailing off to make eye-contact with the Chiss-born commander of the 501st, stood near the entrance with helmet on the table next to her. However, before Wyll could put forth any questions to Dorce, the armoured form of Annor E-059 drew in to view and watched on as her colleague took another moment to reframe his question slightly, swallowing the last of the pastry he'd been chewing on as the scar-faced Lieutenant pondered on all that the two women had endured just to make it as far as Tython. Casting the plate to one side with a casual, inoffensive clunk, Sir Martin's eyes would then dart back and forth between them before inquiring,'So, in hearing, and in Rosk'Aiar's case, seeing what we've been discussing, I politely ask - do you fight for any dead heroes in particular? And if so, will you fight tooth-and-nail for them today?', in a calm, conversationally-receptive tone for the sake of a grief that everyone understood by then.


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COMETS COLLIDE: ORDER VS. CHAOS - PART 3
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The Lonely Isle, Lake Kaleth,
Temple Valley, Tython (Late-Autumn of 876 ABY)

'Doctor.'

The perfect shadow was she, but of late, the commitment to perfection had forged something altogether more impressive than the Elite-Trooper had been before, and it looked to Erskine that nothing would stand in Annor's way henceforth, and almost to near-obvious, glaringly-easy results the Lord-General could make reference to. Reports from her recent efforts on Dubrillion chilled the blood, but in the darkness of the operation itself shined a light of incredible soldiering prowess. None would be able to know at that point, but fate had great plans for Annor in particular, plans that elevated the Elite Program to heights that not even Lord Erskine could predict at the time; plans that would soon see the perfection of the super-soldier, and right down to the very conceptual form that guided the research and development of the Elite program's many intricacies, striking the deepest dread into the weak hearts of the Empire's enemies for years after that day if Annor could survive it.

Moves silent like the shadows. Bets aw the Elite-Troopers are deadly that way an'aw.

An' bets oor Annor's wilder than ay' last wan o' them.

Flipping open his datapad, Lord Erskine would feel confident enough in his own safety that he could rely on Julian as a protector for as long as the fight lasted, searching for Annor's tag whilst the good doctor was still in the process of wading his way through the trees and the bushes beyond. A small matter to deal with before he could properly calm himself for battle, one matter among many but with all the others cast aside, revealing a glaring necessity to focus; as great as his bodyguard was, even the Lord-General couldn't help but admit she was better suited in areas where greater damage could be inflicted on her part, grumbling at himself under-breath at how silly he felt he was being at the time. Understanding that the best only ever got that way through achieving feats beyond the means of one's own perception, a small Datapade DM-chain would be opened with no further complaints on the matter, wishing that his predictions came true on their own, but letting go on the premise that he had to help a little in keeping the dream on track.

[To: Annor E-059]
[From:
Lance One]

[[this island must be boring the living daylights out of you. i know it would irritate me in your shoes.

better off going where the action is.

in any case, the good doctor should be sufficient for this encounter.

go give the maw a headache, but be sure to let lord carwood provide your proverbial springboard.

go show these freaks what untethered elites can achieve on their own.

good luck.
]]

Yet another with more at stake than the mere illusion of victory in the Galaxy, another with a future of their own to fight for, yet such spines, such hands that wielded the rifles of the Empire with ease, would remain straight, steady and resolute beyond wary reasoning. If Erskine were to request it of her, the old Woad knew fine and well that mountains would be moved to achieve even the most difficult of successes, much like the good doctor in a way, especially in consideration of Dr. Qar's deeds on Ziost, Csilla and on many more embattled planets across the war-torn Galaxy.

A man who'd seen Lord Erskine through most of the highs and lows in the Empire's wars and peacetimes alike, a man who'd seen all the suffering, the scars and the agonies the old Woad had put himself through to achieve victory. Julian had seen enough to become a Goidelic historian in his own right, but despite it all, the Stormchaser's cyberneticist had stuck through every last part of it in absolute loyalty to a man who considered him a brother by then. Barran had long believed Qar to be one of the very few in the Empire truly deserving of a good sunset, with many of the same sentiments expressed towards Noel Strasza in turn, a woman Lord Erskine considered a hero in every sense of the word, a valorous cyborg of whom had saved the Woad's life on more occasions than he was ever comfortable admitting. The only thing that could realistically distract the old Woad from thoughts that tested his emotions more than enough before, as stupidly simple as it was to achieve at the time, would be a simple mix-up in communication from a friendly Imperial contingent the Lord-General had strategically coordinated before, ill-informed though it was.

<"Banshee-Actual to Lance-One: everythin' will be ready in one hour. All our men have been dropped from the ships. We'll be waitin' fo' your orders, sir. Banshee-Actual, over.">

<"Sadly I'm not the one you need to comm-link with, Banshee-Actual. The one you need goes by the callsign,"Lance Two", but if ya want any advice from me - I suggest you hold your high-ground. Safe ground is scant and depleting fast down here.... Unprecedented, truly. But it is what it is, lad. Lance One out!">

'Sorry 'bout that, Julian.', Erskine said as Julian finally drew into his aging focus, standing to bow his head respectfully for a friend he revered for showing at such an uncertain time, then pointing to his earpiece to make a silent, though showy explanation for the muttered ramblings. Then, with more showy silent expressions, Barran kindly invited Qar to enjoy the warmth of the campfire for as long as the tentative calm lasted. The one they waited for, as calm and collected as he was in comparison to a vast majority of Mawites, would surely be there soon, especially with the matter of their final fight considered. Leaning back in acceptance of this, Erskine reached into his coat pocket, thinking of nothing but home by the time he brought his famed, though-dented hipflask out to share; and by the time the screw-top lid had been freed of it's grooved restraints, the Cladhan's smell brought forth memories of the An-Cridheachan hills from his youth, bringing a sweet smirk to the Lord-General's lips as he drank a couple generous gulps - enjoying the moment for the comfort it provided.

'That's the stuff.... Here, drink some o' this.'

Small though the comfort was, Barran still kindly screwed the top back on and passed the flask to his old friend, lightly tossing it with enough loftiness to keep it well clear of the flames as it sailed towards the good doctor's catching reach. As soon as the hipflask was caught, the Stormchaser leaned back, looking up at the morning sky until he muttered,'Glad, though it's been a while. I can only assume this to be - what, good news for once?', in the tone of friendly curiosity, laced with hope that Lord Erskine's only remaining friend in the Empire was faring better than he was.

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COMETS COLLIDE: ORDER VS. CHAOS - PART 4
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Northern Dunes, Flesh Raider Frontier,
Temple Valley, Tython (Late-Autumn of 876-ABY)


'Well, well, well.... It would seem the Galidraani have no intention of letting up on their service-hours, as they've only gone and shown face again.'

Looking through the scope of his rifle, the commander of 3rd Battalion chuckled with delight, muttering,'The ol' faithful, and it's the lads from Bramber again.', with an appreciative smirk given as the rifle's barrel lowered in accordance with weapon-safety regulations and personal soldiering standards considered. knew that Hassan would take heart from this, especially in understanding the soldiering friendship between Galidraani and Kandarans from a history that began between them in the Second Battle of Bastion, though the actions of the Bramber Battalion on Csaus had rung closer to Samir's heart than he was ever comfortable admitting; among other matters, namely the matter of the sainted Captain Massoud in particular.

'Our Qidiys wills it, brother. I can sense his hand in this.... He wants us fighting together again, he wants us to feel that power like we did on the walls of Citadel Caelitus.'

'You know what, Samir? I think you're onto something there.', Branko responded as he jumped off the side of their Battalion's ACV, wiping sandy dust off his gloves as he started pacing in the other direction for a slightly higher vantage-point. Within moments, Major Marić was atop a small, but steep rise, seeing exactly how far southwards the Free-State armoured column stretched, estimating roughly fifty Cataphract tanks among other vehicles providing the vicious flanking mobility, granting more relief in moments that seemed almost completely devoid of it. The southern segments of the temple valley were kicking up dust from an array of Imperial and other anti-Mawite elements, giving the native of the Mantellian-born human no reason to worry about what was transpiring in that direction, but when Branko turned to see how things were faring to the north, the newfound sense of relief evaporated like bottled water on hot desert sand.

'Ah, great.... Looks like that's going to be put to the test sooner than planned, Samir. We've got company, and they're bringing serious troop-numbers to the party!'

If they hadn't set a solid north-facing defensive line before, much would've been considered hopeless in the moment of discovery, so the giddy, excited understanding of the Sabretooth caste's capabilities against greater numbers was certainly an added comfort in these moments, though Branko still had no delusions or hubristic thoughts that things would get easier as the day progressed. The overlooking mountains to their northeast were already heavily embattled, and looking to be spreading outwards as the ensuing set-pieces battle progressed, so the Mantellskan Sabretooth-Major was left with no other option but to push forward in the attempt to divert their own problem backwards in a north-westerly direction to achieve the completion of their first orders. To link with the main sabretooth battle-line wouldn't be easy by any means, but with the help of the Free-State's tanks, perhaps enough heavy forward momentum could be found from the offset, but there was still something making the Major nervous.

Though he was at a loss for what it might have been at the time.

'They're troopers of the Final Dawn, Branko. We can take them, I know we can take them! We have declared a Fatwa, our people's holy struggle, on much worse than this! Cannibal troopers of the Crimson Hand make this lot appear like puppies, my friend.... This lot are lacking that sense of savagery, and as for the ones who aren't - they haven't even deployed yet.'

'So be it! We run with the Nazke-doctrine, but first-', Marić replied, trailing off in search for his comm-receiver as he stepped into the passenger-bay and slid the door shut behind him. Hassan then made sure to drop down through the turret-hatch to hear the rest, constantly keeping time with his mentor in the hopes he could sponge and internalise every last piece of advice, wisdom and experience he could, and though the early commission wasn't expected, Samir would remain within the means of his learning throughout the process. Seen especially in the way he remained silent when required, as not even a single,"Uh-huh", or,"Yup", would be uttered at any point of these instructional sprees, consistently silent like a mute until it was pertinent to ask for further explanation and the likes. And like usual, as soon as Hassan's boots clunked on the durasteel mesh-wiring floor beneath, silence was once again resumed for the sake of Branko as he concluded,'We need to patch-through to Lord Bex, for I have an idea.', with a cursory nod to pay further attention as soon as he was done talking.

<"Marić to Bramber One! Glad to have you back on board.... But it's straight to business this time sadly, but with that being said - the opposition are infantry-heavy, roughly 2-Klicks out. Easy pickings if you can get beyond the incline of the hillocks in front of you. I think incendiaries might do the trick as an opener, if you catch my drift.">

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Cycle of Hatred: Journey's End


Location: Tython, Journey's End
Tags: Keilara Kala'myr Keilara Kala'myr | DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran | Julian Qar Julian Qar

  • Kallan struggles with being locked in The Mongrel's body, and opens up to his wife about it
  • The Mongrel prepares himself to face Barran, and arrives at the chosen meeting spot



Inside
Is there a problem, my love?

He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to think about it. But in the end, there was no avoiding it. He would not shut his wife out of his thoughts, refused to keep her at arm's length. In their vows he had sworn always to be honest and kind with her, and Kallan did not make promises lightly. He took a long, steadying inhale, breathing in the scent of her hair, and snuggled closer to her. She was warm and soft against him, curled up in the blankets, his arm gently draped over her chest to hold her close. With her, he felt whole.

But he couldn't block out the outer world.

The real one.

~ I'm... struggling, ~ he confessed. ~ I'm trying to focus on right here, right now, just us. ~ He planted a soft kiss on her neck, fighting to stay in this beautiful moment... and losing. It was a strange sensation, to see one thing and to feel another. It was like the disorientation people sometimes felt in virtual reality, the nausea that crept into their stomachs when their eyes told them they were moving but their equilibrium told them they were not. He saw warm sun and soft blankets and the beautiful face of the woman he loved.

He felt flashes of something else entirely.

~ But it's still my body out there, ~ Kallan told his wife. ~ And the stronger I get, the closer to being a whole person again, the more I can feel it. What he's doing out there. Terrible things. ~ It all came only in dark glimpses and shuddering feelings, like horrible half-remembered nightmares... only the nightmares were more real than this waking dream he shared with his love. No matter how beautiful this place was, no matter how much he wanted to stay in it and forget the galaxy beyond, he couldn't shake off the cold touch of reality.

~ I try not to think about it, I try to focus on just us, but... ~ he trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a shaky breath. He could not escape the reality that he was a prisoner shackled in a small portion of his own mind. He could not forget that the body he knew had been stripped away, replaced with cold, unfeeling metal. He could not ignore that the fanatic who'd been implanted in his brain had used him to commit horrific crimes against millions of innocents. ~ I can't block it out, ~ he whispered, looking at her.

There were tears in his eyes, tears of hopeless pain.

~ Please, help me block it out. ~

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

Outside
The Mongrel almost laughed when Mercy suggested just bombarding Barran's meeting place, reducing it to rubble and ash with the long-range guns of the war skiffs. It was a pragmatic solution, the kind of suggestion that separated soldiers from warriors. Ordinarily, the warlord might have taken her up on the idea. The Brotherhood of the Maw was not concerned with such petty concepts as Jedi morality or Mandalorian honor; in a war to cleanse the entire galaxy, now united against them, they would do whatever it took to win.

No matter how ugly, callous, and cruel.

But this was different. This enemy was no ordinary ground commander, but the single greatest Imperial veteran of the entire Second Great Hyperspace War. "Tempting," he rumbled in reply, "but if we simply obliterate Barran, we cannot take his head. Far more powerful to make his death a symbol than just another random battlefield casualty." There was more to it than that, of course. The Mongrel wanted this fight, wanted to cross blades with his rival of ten years. Long range weapons, though useful, were so impersonal.

A feud like theirs deserved to be ended face to face.

The speeder bike whooshed over the plains and then out onto the crystal-clear waters of the lake. The repulsorlift engines kicked up a trail of iridescent spray in their wake, each flying droplet glowing like a corusca gem as the sunlight filtered through it. With his highly-enhanced cybernetic lenses, The Mongrel saw everything in multiple spectrums of light and heat... but he focused in on their reflection as it raced over the water. He looked at the image of Mercy, his loyal shadow, her arms wrapped around his hulking metal torso.

He wished he could feel those arms.

Or the wind in his hair.

Or anything real.

It was beautiful, this vision of the two of them racing over the water on a warm, clear day... but to him, it was like the holovid they'd been watching. He could only imagine what it would be like to experience it fully, with the smells and sensations he could no longer sense. ~ I would like that too, ~ he told her, but it was only half true. It would always make him sad to be only half-present in these moments. Mercy could show him the things he was missing, place those lost pieces of the world in his mind, but it would never be the same.

He wouldn't let the Brotherhood do to her what they'd done to him. That was why The Mongrel needed to end, to find his martyrdom and pass from this war-torn galaxy. He looked down at the runes carved into the metal of his cybernetic armor, runes in the ancient Ur-Kittat script that spoke of sacrifice and the power of faith. He had accepted those runes willingly, unafraid to give his life in service to the Dark Voice... but he had forbidden the Heathen Priests from so much as touching Mercy. He would not let them take her soul.

He wanted her to be free, to truly live.

She could do that, without him.

What do you think? Why does he want to meet you here? The question jerked the warlord back from his grim thoughts. "It is a place far removed from the battle," he replied, speaking aloud now. There was no one else to hear them out here in the middle of the lake. "He has chosen somewhere we will not be interrupted. Every time I have fought him or his champions before, something forced us apart." The press of swoops and walkers on Ilum, the hyperdrive rift on Korriban, the breaking of the lake ice on Csaus.

"He is making sure that won't happen this time."

"He is making sure we'll finish this."


The coordinates drew nearer, and that feeling of looming destiny grew stronger in The Mongrel's fractured mind. It was obvious now where both of them were leading. The little island loomed up in front of the warlord and his wife, rocky shores sloping gently up to sunlit woodlands. It was the kind of place that The Mongrel knew from the memories Mercy had shared with him... the kind of place more fit for a wedding than a murder. But he knew from long experience that even the most beautiful of places were not immune to the touch of war.

He had brought war to many of them.

As the island drew closer, blobs of green and brown resolving into individual trees, The Mongrel spotted a trail of smoke curling up from somewhere within the woods. It was a better guide than any homing beacon. "He's waiting for us," the warlord said, more to himself than to Mercy. "That is where we'll find him." The speeder zoomed closer, skimming swiftly across the last stretch of lake. Finally it crossed the shore, and loose gravel scattered from beneath its engines rather than water. The Mongrel killed the engine.

"We'll walk from here." One last walk in the woods. With her.

A moment too precious to pass up.

The Mongrel swung his metal leg off the bike, little stones crunching beneath his heavy metal feet. He offered Mercy a hand, ready to help her down from her seat, as though he was a fancy Alderaanian gentleman and not an eight-foot cyborg engine of destruction. He could not enjoy the wind and the sun on their little walk up to Barran's campsite, or the smell of the pines, but he took in what he could: birdsong, the buzzing of insects, the gentle swaying of the trees as the breeze shook them. Most of all, he took in the sight of her.

Beside him, as he always wanted her to be.

But he knew he had to set her free.

~ Promise me something, ~ he asked her, once again speaking in their minds. He did not want Barran to overhear this, his intimate final request to the woman he loved. ~ Promise me that, no matter what happens, you will not intervene. ~ He knew she wouldn't like that. They had saved each other many times, from his rescue of her on Dromund Kaas to her rescue of him on Odessen. They fought together, relied on each other. He was asking her to set all that aside. ~ Someone has to tell the tribe what happened here. ~

~ And what is about to happen... I must do it myself. ~


Barran's campsite awaited, the flickering firelight now visible between the trees. If The Mongrel had still had lungs, he would have taken a deep, steadying breath... but those had been lost to him years ago. Instead he simply laid one hand on the hilt of his sword, the mighty blade that Thomas had forged for him, baptized in Jedi blood. With his other hand, he found Mercy's hand, small compared to his giant metal palm. He held it only for a moment, for he did not want Barran to see, to guess at what was between them.

But that was all he needed.

He was ready.

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~ Inside the mind palace | Kallan and Keilara ~
During his long, steadying inhale, I closed my eyes, enjoying the closeness, the warmth of his body, the smell. At least the way I envisioned it to be. No matter, I was happy that we got that much. Others don't have that much. I settled comfortably in his arms, in his embrace as his arm gently draped over my chest to hold me close. I stroked his arms and then embraced them while breathing some soft kisses on his arms and shoulder. It was also a moment I wanted to last forever. But there was the small bitter feeling of not answering my question yet.

~ Are you stru-? ~ I wanted to ask back, but the kiss on my neck distracted me.

I moaned quietly at the kiss and shivered pleasantly. It may not have been the best moment from him to try to distract me. It went too easily in his arms, in his embrace, during the gentle touches and kisses. However, when he said he was losing, I turned my full attention back to the conversation during a moment. My eyes opened and I looked at him, my whole body tensed nervously.

As I watched and listened to him, my eyes were also veiled in tears. Why only now? Why didn't you say it earlier? If Mercy had known, if I had known that the shields weren’t working perfectly, it would have worked even harder and I would have to make sure that didn’t happen. Even I haven’t always been able to rule out the outside world, though with the fact that I’m already starting to learn how these shields work, it’s getting better. Mercy "passed on" her knowledge and I was able to use, and used what I found in Ziare's memory.

You can see out of this mind-palace, but not inside. I don’t know if I was angry or just disappointed. But my heart clenched at the sight and the fact that I knew it, he couldn't handle this too well.

~ Why, Kallan? Why didn't you tell me earlier? You know, we still work and struggle to keep you both safe, not to hurt each other. Why didn't you tell me? If I had known, if we had known, we would have worked even harder. ~ I said bitterly, hoarsely.

I was sure Mercy would think so, for him Kallan and Mongrel were the same person, since Mongrel would not exist without Kallan, they were made Mongrel of him. That’s why they were both important to us. From the first moment, to Kallan, there was Mercy, then Ziare, and finally I spent the most of the time next to him, it was me. It hurt that he hadn't told me before. Maybe he didn't trust me? Or did I hurt him when I asked what Mercy wanted from him not to hurt and disturb Mongrel?

~ I will do my best to make you feel better, all that is in my power. ~ I promised him as I planted a kiss on his forehead.

I typically focused on his healing, so Mercy dealt with the shields, but now I also let go of my strength to make these shields even stronger, around our house, around the mindpalace, to try to completely exclude the outside world by looking for the gaps, cracks which ones are part of his, their mind - Kallan and Mongrel - to heal those parts, to stuff them like an adhesive patch on an injury.

~ MERCY! ~ I shouted in thoughts to my other half. ~ We need to talk, now! ~

Meanwhile, I stroked Kallan's face and I tried to snuggle closer to him even more. I tried to reach him so he would not feel alone for a moment.

~ You get a tough question that might be enough to occupy your mind while Mercy and I work together to close the "gaps" which ones are reach the outside world. I want an honest answer to the question, not what your heart would say. I ask for an honest answer even if it would be painful. What do you think if that never happened... Our captivity. If we had both lived our own lives… and we happen to meet at a mechanic show or conference. Elsewhere, this would not really have been possible. Do you think you would have noticed me despite the age difference and social classes? Would you have noticed me? Or would you just have looked at me as a simple, crazy little girl because of my dyed hair? If it weren't for that like what happened with us, would we have ever known each other, or just walked next to each other because I'm noble, and you're a speeder mechanic? ~ I asked him. ~ Imagine you are there for this conference, probably with colleagues, friends, or your real family. Imagine the many people, the hustle and bustle, the many machines, the bikers, podracers, ships. Then, you'll notice me in the crowd too... maybe because I just collided with you or I am with my bodyguard who tells you to go out of our way. Or I'm just among my friends... ~

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~ Present, Tython | Asher and Mercy (and Barran) ~
"But I can kill him from the shadows and bring his head to you." I said playfully and smiled at him.

Barran would not be the first and probably not the last person I would kill at his request. Or just to protect him. I can’t even count how many people died from my hands while I protected him. And not just enemies, but others from the tribe. I knew their past, I knew he probably wanted to kill Barran, so my offer wasn’t too serious. I was just the prickly wife at the moment, not his advisor who would have really recommended this to the warlord.

The plain slowly left us behind and we reached over the lake in the light of the autumn sun. I admired the scenery and tilted my helmeted head to his back so I could snuggle to him even better. It was so peaceful. I smiled at his response; I was happy. I raised my head when I felt something in the distance with telepathy and empathy. That was the moment the warriors joined the ritual. I saw the Sith runes on Asher's chest as well as on his warriors. The Heathen priests couldn't draw on me, Asher wouldn't let them.

I didn’t fully recognize the rune… I didn’t. However, there was a sufficient amount of data in the MANIAC database. I knew what they means. I didn’t want him to sacrifice his own and Kallan’s life for Solipsis, that’s not so much worth it, nothing was worth it so much! I didn’t tell him I knew what the signs were and that it was crazy. I looked at the smoke, which I also saw. In the end we arrived on the island. I was sorry that this trip was over, I would have liked to have raced on. With him.

I let him get off the bike first, meanwhile I took off my helmet and put it on the bike seat. It didn’t really matter that whoever saw me here, whichever side wins, the other side won’t survive. I smiled as he held out his hand. I looked at Asher, I saw not the giant metal body a little over 240 centimetres, but the man who was also present in my mind. I have seen this "illusion" for some time, so to speak. I saw him, Baron Asher Kala'myr, not the Mongrel, Warlord of the Maw, not the one to whom the Maw made him. I saw only my husband, the man, the love of my life.

I gracefully, elegantly put my palms on his palm, as if we weren’t preparing for a duel in the middle of a war, but going to a noble ball. I smiled, just like my eyes. With one thought, I sent out the mini droids to monitor the area. I could never be careful enough. But there was nothing here but us. At the same time in reality and at home in my mind, I take his hand while walking, weaving my fingers between his fingers. We had only a few moments as a regular couple anyway. This was one of them.

When we finally arrived at the camp, I felt the man’s consciousness with my telepathic ability, but I also saw it with my eyes too. I let go of Asher's hand here, I was sure Barran could already see us. During his words, I looked at him in both worlds. I almost laughed bitterly at what he asked for.

~ You'll tell them you're the warl- ~ my eyes widened in fear and despair, in recognition.

And all of a sudden, my voice stalled like a bolt of lightning; the signs I’ve ruled out so far. What I didn't want to notice… That's when I understood his words, the runes… tears ran down my face…

~ You are preparing that you will die today… ~ I said hoarsely, with pain in my voice and gaze and in my eyes. Something died and broke in me at this moment.

I wanted to yell at him, yell that he can't be so stupid. I didn't let go of his hand. I don't care if Barran sees us. If he wins, we die, if Asher wins, he dies. Never, no one will know what is between us. I acted at home, in our minds and in reality at the same time. As I squeezed his hand softly, I pulled him with myself and stepped out into the camp area. It was time for the secrecy to end…

I turned to him once he was there and stepped close to him. I stroked his face gently in both places at once. In reality, I had to pull him down to myself because he was much taller, but that nearly ten centimetres wasn’t much in our minds. I leaned against his chest and kissed him in both worlds. In our minds, normally, for a long time, passionately, with love as I snuggled to him and embraced him. In reality, just like a chaste kiss, my lips touched the metal armour where his lips would be. I acted like an equal, not like an obsessed one. If Barran ever learned psychology, he could easily see it all. I was not Asher's slave, I was his equal companion, his mate.

"I don't care what you think, you are the champion of Avatars! Take care of yourself and come back to me! You're going to tell the tribe, not I, this is your duty.!" I whispered to him, both in reality and in our minds at the same time. "As you always do… since our life together has only just begun. I love you Asher, more than anything and everyone!"

Only then did I let him go, with a struggling, with a sore heart, full of anxiety. I didn't say it, but I'll do what he asked. And at that moment I also heard Keilara's shouting…

But I needed more.

I wasn't ready.

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Allies: Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka Cotan Sar'andor Cotan Sar'andor Thurion Heavenshield Thurion Heavenshield Celeste Rigel Celeste Rigel Tracyn Ordo Tracyn Ordo Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor
Foes: Darth Libertas Darth Libertas Ardana Vorco Ardana Vorco

The former Pathfinders turned Outer Rim gunhands were moving their way to one of their former leaders. Master Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka needed assistance, and they were moving. Taking strikes at the Maw forces from cover, doing their best to spread out, to make a two dozen look like two hundred, they were taking shots, moving to fell a foe before finding a new position of cover. What they were not seeing was the moon fall.

The first one, a Sullustan, looked up and called out in Sullustese as a few others activated their personal protective shields. It had to be enough, it was hoping to be enough. The Sullustan saw the rocks falling, but saw the Maw continuing to move. Lining up a shot with his sniper rifle, he squeezed the trigger, hoping to hit the target at a distance before the first bit of debris was to impact. As the bolt was freed, the Sullustan ducked behind cover, not in a panicked motion, but in a motion that was him accepting his fate as the galaxy was throwing it to him.

Though the darkness never greeted him.

The Sullustan was realizing the air was suddenly still, a Jedi Knight, green blade aglow, was holding a barrier up above a small radius of other soldiers. "Keep… hope… alive…" The Jedi said, straining from the effort as the rocks were hitting the barrier.

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Moments before…

Darkness was rising. And Light would rise to meet it.

Light would rise to remove it from this world, to send it further into the reaches of space. A fight for another day, a fight for another time. Darkness could not exist without light, and the reverse was true. The small meld around Coren, and the Jedi in it would be feeling the resolve. The absolute determination to protect this world. Bleeding out into the forces escorting troop movements and to the leadership. He could touch a few, not as many as he had, due to his current combat, but his eyes met with Libertas.

He heard the call from the Padawan, but he had sidelined this being. He had to do what he could for the greater good. There would be no revenge today, but the Jedi Wayseeker approached the cyborg. "They will not win this day." The aqua blade angled across his body in a way that matched the reverse grip of Shien, while his second blade, still dark, was held in a similar grip off to his left.

His grip changed for a moment as the raining debris came down. The voice of Thurion through the battlefield and the Force as clear as day. Eyes quickly to the sky, he threw his hands forward, up, and out. As he threw his hands forward, a blast of repulsive Force energy was directed at the Sith before him, intent to throw her away from the blast zone, whether for her safety or to get her away from him, was yet to be seen. As his hands went up, a translucent golden barrier was up, extending into a barrier as he was focusing his energies into the meld, to strengthen the other Jedi.

To strengthen anyone who was to stop the moon.

He could feel the weight pressing down on him as he pushed, the kyber crystal on his necklace was glowing, glowing and straining, feeding its open living power to the Jedi Master. An eye was temporarily cast to where the Sith was thrown, but his focus was on preventing the moon from decimating those around.

In the heart of a Jedi lies their strength

And today, the heart of the Jedi was to protect this world and push back the Maw.

Summary:
  • Small team of Pathfinders/Outer Rim Irregular types moving to engage Maw, using scattered tactics
  • Jedi Knights in smaller numbers providing guidance and assistance
  • All this changes with the moon collapse, as Jedi move to provide barriers
  • Coren engaging Libertas, attempts to push her away and moves into the meld for the barrier
 
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Objective: Cause earthquakes. Cause sinkholes at the Temple Ruins and then Kalesh.
Status: Battlefield Neutral Net Damaged | Offensive Operations Stable
Enemies (NIO/Enclave/GA/Jedi/Other): Rurik Fel Rurik Fel | Annor E-059 | Rose Dorce Hall Mannarra | Julian Qar Julian Qar | Bex Tarring | Aerys Myrrine Jas Katis Jas Katis | Asanté Tsilor Asanté Tsilor | Ollis Barran | Saul Tagge | Asmus Omaand | Alessandra Io Alessandra Io | Kal | Madison Starr | Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor | Rex Valhoun Rex Valhoun | Don Belkora | Rika Hiro | Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser | Thurion Heavenshield Thurion Heavenshield | Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka | Celeste Rigel Celeste Rigel | Tracyn Ordo Tracyn Ordo | Osarla Ridor Osarla Ridor | Asmundr Varobalder Asmundr Varobalder | Wedge Draav Wedge Draav | Barrien Siegfried | Henna Ashina Henna Ashina | Auteme Auteme | Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze | Maple Harte Maple Harte
Allies (BOTM/NSO/Independent): 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 | Thomas Barran Thomas Barran | Darth Libertas Darth Libertas
Directly Engaging: (OPEN)
Tag me if any efforts are being done to hinder the AI's progress. Assume hits on relay towers as you like, except the main omega site.



War Posting Update
  • Shockwaves from digging into already destabilized ground emanate from under the temple ruins. Small cracks appear in the earth, water pools around them. The first large crack exposes itself into the tunnels below, allowing access from the surface, but also giving the defenders a taste of the gas explosions to follow. 1 Tunneler is stalled under repair.
  • x1 Tunneler packed with detonite has been primed to explode under the temple ruins. It has a 10-minute countdown. At 500 meter depth.
  • x2 Tunneling Operations are moving under the ruins toward Kaleth at 1km Depth. Large Explosives onboard, Visible shaking to the ground along the route, sensors can also easily spot these signatures. Currently Central to the ruins.
  • Tunneling Operations toward the planetary mantle continue. 9km Depth Reached, angling toward the Temple Ruins downward, easily traceable by scanner until they get too deep.
  • Large Damage to Sithwatch relays from devastating battlefield conditions and debris occurs.
  • Logistic convoys coming into the cavern are harassed and slowed. The main hub also begins to take hits from falling debris, and so mines the main cavern entrance ready for collapse.
Ever Directive Deployment Status:
Directive 18 Moving to Stage Five
Preparing Explosives below the temple Ruins. Tunneling Toward Kalesh. Tunneling Toward the Mantle.

Ongoing Scylla Operations:
  • Faction Communications Interference Stable. Feeding false reports, betrayals, and lies to defending factions.
  • Sensor Net Established and Stable. Feeding enemy movements and compositions to Maw and Sith Operatives.
  • Conduct ground destabilization and offensive operations on opposing forces.

Directive 18 Stage Five.
Split the Earth, to Drown them in it.

Entering Primary Attack Phase. Target Jedi temple forces.
Standby, coordinating tunnelers.


Providing metallic coordination with ongoing earthquakes, caused by forces above it could not comprehend, was tricky. The ground was already destabilized, all the AI was doing was facilitating was an increase in the natural disasters befalling those above. The ground beneath the temple may begin to shift under the galactic alliance's and Jedi's feet, small cracks may begin to appear, and louder rumblings from beneath the earth, water even swelling upward to flow into light pools.

CRACK Hiss BOOM

Destabilized as the battlescape was becoming, a larger earthquake crack appeared along a tunneling route, heading under the temple, natural gas was released and minor fires started along its line, widening with a heavy groaning rumble to allow room for entry. Descent downward to the tunnels looked reachable for a Jedi or jump trooper, and offered a way straight into the tunnel systems, to stop these explosive diggers before they reached their destinations. Just mind your step! Earthquakes and Detonite Explosives! Below the large crack, one vehicle had awkwardly stalled trying to restart, its droid crew attempting to repair from the falling rubble.

That left three. Two tunnelers were now under the Jedi Ruins proper at 1km, a third started to ascend upwards toward the center mass of alliance forces and Jedi there. Putting it maybe 500 meters below the surface. A point the AI calculated could cause large sinkholes and gas detonations for those above, should the ticking timebomb be allowed to continue.

Time to Temple detonite detonation 10 minutes. 9.59. 9.58. 9.57….

It may take either a hero descending into the tunnels, fire from above, diggers, or someone skilled in manipulating electronics and droid crewmembers. Good thing there was a host of Jedi right above it with potentially those abilities! Dangerously the final two tunnelers packed with detonite seemed to be trying to bypass the temple ruins entirely, their destination was Kaleth. Remaining 1km below the earth, there was still time for alliance forces to stop these last two from getting past their lines. A time that was fast running out.

Stage Five Initializing.
Toward the Mantle, Battlescape destabilization is ongoing.


Main Scylla Location: North of Akar Kesh
Varian Cavern Processing Hub.


Not spared the downfall of the moon, even those trying to stop rubble with tractor beams, or shields on the ground couldn't stop everything. Sithwatch relays were hit, the ground was pummelled and one sith forces crushed under debris. Earth shifting and storms brewing only added to the devastation on the relay towers feeding the Tython AI data. Many cultists were lost.

Lowered further into the tormented earth our monstrous Tython AI descended, angled diagonally down toward the temple ruins, its four mantle diggers had reached a 9km depth along a walkable path, struggling against a solid onyx deposit for the last kilometer. Ant droids scurried to move blockages from the cutting beams allowing their descent to continue.

Above the AI, its reinforced cavern received its first impacts from falling debris, and by now the enemy was aware of its logistical routes, which were under more direct attack from the air. Calculating it would not take long before a breach, by slicers against its three firewalls, or by troops from the front entrance. Efforts were being made to mine the entrance, to get it ready to be collapsed around the mainframe, which was ever being extended downward into the earth. Entrenching itself into Tythons heart.

New code twisted into the AI, darkside ritual energy, souls ending, spirits released. The machine's core was under assault, and its programming became steadily more orientated to offense rather than construction. Subroutines were rewritten and malformed by error., routines taking shape as a hostile rather than purely patient AI. Much like the Uriel Droid was undergoing inside her core programming, only along a very different path.

Each kilometer toward the mantle further added woes above ground, adding larger tremors and growing shockwaves upward, spreading from temple ruins as a focal point outward to lesser degrees. The epicenter of a steadily increasing earthquake that could continue to grow, cracks in the earth above, and light bursts of released gas might start to geyser along a widening radius. Pipes were being fed downward to underground gas deposits, water, and other hazards to eventually flush to the surface. Soon to be used to devastating effect on enemy forces.

Tython's battlescape could be transformed bit by bit into the Tython AI. The product of an Eternal One Sith's Arrogance. #Ever Directives.

Onward to the mantle!

Operational Relay Status:

x3 Relay Towers Alpha, Seeing Stone, Status: Online
x2/3 Relay Towers Beta, Masters Rest, Status: Online
x1/3 Relay Towers Gamma, Journeys End, Status: Online
x2/3 Relay Towers Delta, Flooded Plains, Status: Online
x2/3 Relay Towers Epsilon, Flesh Raider Grounds, Status: Online

Main Site of the Scylla AI: x3 Relay Towers Omega, Akar Kesh, Status: Online

NPCs and Equipment:
Relay Defenders. 10 with each relay, up to 30 at each site.
131/180 x One Sith Sithwatch Cultists
13/18 x Relay Towers
13/18 x Master Relay Terminals
13/18 x Directional Transceivers
13/18 x OS Fixed Position Shields

Assume hits on the towers and cultists as you like, they are there for your RP.

Main Scylla Omega Hub Additional Defenders
Metal Fortifications and power sources are now in Cavern. | Entrance Mined.
Underground layers to the Main Hub 9km Depth reached toward its Mantle goal.
3x T-Series Tactical Droid
100 x B1 Series Battle Droids
50 x B2 Super Battle Droids
10 x Scorpenek Droid
5 x Droideka Sharpshooter
5 x Drodieka Oppressors

Additional Logistical Forces Assembled.
Plentiful Resources for Building now in Cavern.
2x Civil-Industrial I-C2 Droids for processing materials
12 x Z7 series Droids to assist construction.
12x Ant droids for clearing rubble.
x16 Scylla AI for processing. Potentially founding steps of the Tython AI.
8x A-11-Model 3 Tunnel Boring Vehicles tunnelling with Droid and AI Crew.

Scylla AI Firewalls

Firewall One Online
Firewall Two Online
Firewall Three Online
 
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TYTHON | SKIES
BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | SCARHOUNDS
ALLIES: MAW | Thomas Barran Thomas Barran | The Mongrel The Mongrel | OPEN
ENEMIES: BURN THEM ALL | OPEN
ENGAGING: Kranak Vizsla Kranak Vizsla | Sasha Kryze Sasha Kryze
GEAR: In bio | Standard loadout | shield

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The proximity sensors pinged as her droid quickly caught up with her. Calmly she straightened out and cut the engines of her jetpack, letting herself drop into the cockpit of her Basilisk as it zoomed towards her. Immediately she took control of it and banked over towards Akar Kesh, the cannons and missiles primed and ready to unleash hell on anyone crossing her targeting reticle.

Things ramped up when she looked up at the sky to see burning debris of the moon coming down on the planet. Dodging the pieces was relatively easy, and it cemented her conviction as her attention turned back to her scanners. The world will burn, and all will burn along with it. Her mind was calm and her heart set as she looked for the telltale signs of the Enclave’s operations. Missiles and particle bolts let loose on the forces of both the Maw and the New Imperial Order fighting on the hills as the Wardog flew overhead and banked around for another pass.

”He’s close. He won’t just sit back, he’ll be right in the thick of it.”

”His Siks will be a problem.”



”Beskar only covers that much. And I got just the thing for them.”

A maniacal grin formed as several pings lit up on her scanners. In the distance, several flickers from jetpack thrusters shone like stars ahead of her. ”Call me starkiller ‘cause Ima light these kriffers up!” She shouted as she shoved the throttle forward and zoomed towards the Platoon of Si’kahya moving forward. Recon party, most likely. Through the thunder and carnage, the howling ion engine was drowned out until she was a stone’s throw away from them. Missiles locked on and the main cannon started to spool up with a whine…


BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT


The rotary cannon lit up the sky with golden particle bolts as a salvo of concussion missiles flew out to intercept the scouting party in the air. ”Hello, boys! I’m back!” Her voice broadcasted through open channels and a loudspeaker in her droid, hoping that her “friends” would hear her.

With masterful piloting the Basilisk whipped around in a flash and hovered in place, letting the rotary cannon and fixed laser cannons fire another salvo at the airborne Mandalorian warriors. The Wardog flicked on the autopilot and let the droid’s brain take over as the cockpit slid open.

”Gonna get personal, huh?”



”It would be rude not to greet ‘em in person.”

She cackled as she leapt out and closed in on one of the warriors close to her. Crashing into him, the two were quickly locked in a stalemate as their grips held each other in place. With a flick of her head, her dislodged helmet fell to the surface as she glared at the stunned warrior with a menacing snarl. In one swift motion, her durasteel teeth wrapped around his neck and shredded both armourweave and skin, tearing his throat open before she let the man fall to his demise, back to his commanding officer somewhere down below.

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Jd0UQlmpTF3PkNLQZi4Hu4lCYN-FvykZ9o4UZkYVx_yNuwFFygoMw_E6UqgwpEVcIQ7BAvA-3dzP-nn-Sk24R7ssB-p9l0ES1o3o1XlG9o9OSpr7HMgsa1kVLe3RCt3hp7L6Vvmx
Location: Akar Kesh - Tython
Objective: Defend the Ritual
Theme: We Own The Night
Direct Engagement: Kimiko Taiyou Kimiko Taiyou

Her power was palpable to the senses.

The Kitsune was a roiling torrent of Dark Side energy, to such an extent that Chassella found herself briefly overtaken, not only by awe, but also by fear. It wasn’t a paralyzing fear, but it was such that had the circumstances been different—had her opponent been a Sith—the Elzeri might have submitted herself before the Kitsune upon witnessing her power.

Instead, she found herself embroiled in a fight for her life.

Chassella only just managed to ignite the fiery ruby blades of her twin lightsabers as the Kitsune closed the distance with a burst of explosive velocity, moving so quickly that it demanded all of her focus and more to track her progress. For that, she could thank the Force enhancements hexed into her bodysuit. Otherwise, her opponent might have cut her to ribbons there and then. Nevertheless, the Elzeri’s continued survival demanded that she immediately take the defensive stance of Soresu, a form which she lacked true skill in, but was forced to rely on in place of the acrobatics and speed of Ataru. Unfortunately, her lack of practice showed, as the Kitsune immediately struck a grazing hit against Chassella’s left thigh, the Elzeri wincing when the sudden pain seized her focus and opened her up to a follow-up slash that landed on her right bicep. While both strikes singed and burned her pale flesh, the Elzeri was still standing, grunting with the effort of maintaining her poise under the weight of such a ruthless assault.

Silently, Chassella reminded herself that she needed only to endure long enough for the Sith’ari to complete the ritual.

The Kitsune’s strikes continued with greater fervor, straining Chassella even as adrenaline began to course through her nerves, sweat beading on her forehead in the process. However, just as her opponent moved to capitalize on an opening in her defense, a small, yet fast-moving bolide struck the ground less than 15 meters away from the two women, the impact of the meteor so resonating that a terrible, earsplitting shockwave propagated across the area, drawing a pained grunt from the Elzeri’s lips when her hypersensitive ears screamed at the sound.

Consequently, Chassella reeled back, stabilizing her balance by falling onto a knee as her pointed ears recovered from the blast. Glancing up, the Elzeri briefly took in the rain of meteors falling from the heavens, with many crashing down in the distance. It should have been the end of her, but it seemed that the Kitsune was reeling from the blast as well. With a grunt, the Elzeri pushed herself back onto her feet, her pale features glistening with sweat as she took a Soresu stance, silently daring her opponent to come back at her.


 

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Location: Tython | Enroute to Master's Retreat
Appearance: Link
Outfit: Factory Link
Weapon:
Double-Bladed Lightsaber
Tag: Kahlil Noble Kahlil Noble Kyrel Ren Kyrel Ren
Post: #6
Objective: Secure the Master's Retreat
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Stop him, and we'll escape. Together

Valery met Kahlil Noble Kahlil Noble 's smile with one of her own as she turned and jumped into the fire she had manipulated to burn the undead Master of Ren prior to her assault with the blade. With Kahlil altering the path of the incoming meteors, she had the safety she needed to engage Kyrel up-close but she knew they'd be fighting him together again soon. Plans were already forming in the link between their minds but until the time was right, she'd fight to stop this evil on her own.

So with the smell of his rotten flesh burning, the sight of his armor incinerating, and the world around them violently exploding, Valery continued the clash of blades with the man who embodied the true nature of the Dark Side. Each blow they exchanged was delivered with great power and the pure intent to kill each other, and neither side was giving the other even an inch.


"You won't kill me today…. Not when it's all so close… Soon to be within my grasp!"

Valery narrowed her eyes as the two were forced into a blade lock and clenched her jaw as she pushed back against his raw, physical strength. The flames that engulfed his body didn't bother her, but outside of the damage it did to his body, it only seemed to fuel his rage and desire to kill her even more. It was going to take time before he'd whither away completely.

"We'll see about that,"

Feeling his momentum push her back, Valery briefly glanced over her shoulder and took note of the large hole in the platform behind her. A hot fire was burning down below in the debris directly underneath, and she understood what he was trying to do. But it also gave the woman an idea that she echoed to her husband through their bond.

Several more heavy blows followed from Kyrel, and while she blocked them all, the back of her foot was right at the edge of the hole now, and with a fiery glare in her eyes, the woman fell back into the gap, and down into the fire below. But she hadn't fallen because he pushed her into it, or to evade his next series of attacks.

No, she made the jump to avoid what was now coming directly for Kyrel alone.



 
Honneur, Patrie, Valeur, Discipline
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Objective II END OF AN ERA
Location: Tython's orbit
Equipment: uniform, custom-made blaster pistol, ceremonial sword, telescope

Tags : Aculia Voland Aculia Voland , Juno - 11/0571 Juno - 11/0571 , Aldo Garrick Aldo Garrick , Ari Naldax Ari Naldax , Artemis Toth Artemis Toth , Aximand Sicarus Aximand Sicarus , Balt Vizsla , Caarlyle Rausgeber Caarlyle Rausgeber , Derix Tirall Derix Tirall , Isla Draellix-Kobitana Isla Draellix-Kobitana , Marlon Sularen Marlon Sularen , Mellifluous Magenta Mellifluous Magenta , Mith'akis'ormo Mith'akis'ormo , Mylo Thorne , Rex Valhoun Rex Valhoun , Romul Saxon Romul Saxon , The Amalgam The Amalgam , Tren Chaar Tren Chaar , Tu'teggacha Tu'teggacha , VADM Tarsa Doon VADM Tarsa Doon , Vaux Gred Vaux Gred , Vemric Keldra , Verin Oldo Verin Oldo , Caoimhe Crannach Caoimhe Crannach

Name​
Class​
Status​
Commanding Officer​
X101 Pride of Anaxes
Fully crewed, operationnal​
X102 Audacious
Fully crewed, operationnal​
X103 Courageous
Fully crewed, operationnal​
CV-2 Tonnant
Fully crewed, operationnal​
Silencieux
Fully crewed, operationnal​
AIV L'Effroyable
Fully crewed, operationnal​
Commander Louis Fort-Drake​
AIV Le Téméraire
Fully crewed, operationnal​
Commander Schwanhelt Bulge​
AIV Le Malin
Fully crewed, operationnal​
Commander Arthur Leywin​
AIV L'indomptable
Fully crewed, operationnal​
Commander Philippe Montcalm​

Legend: comm in, comm out, ship's intercom and broadcast system, crew
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Escort frigate X101 Pride of Anaxes
Commanding officer : Commodore Albrecht Herlock


The order finally came. After a long period of waiting, Herlock could finally engage his ships into battle. The Admiral Regent was clear. The target was Caoimhe Crannach Caoimhe Crannach , a dissident commander among the New Imperial fleet.

"All ships, move out. The target is the Task Force Dragoon. All hands man your battlestations !"

The ships' engines came to life and the Task Force 58 finally went to battle The small group that went to the planet's atmosphere regrouped with the main force and formed their traditionnal battle line with the four Harrier-class carriers covering the flanks.

"Fourth battle speed ! Contact the Silencieux and tell them to engage the Screaming Dragon. They must stay in stealth mode !"

"Aye Sir !"
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Stealth corvette AIV Silencieux
Commanding officer : LT Lucas TRAUMEN


"Sir incoming transmission from the Pride of Anaxes. Task Force Dragoon is labeled as traitor to the Empire and shall be terminated. We're to engage the Screaming Dragon at once."

"Send a reply to the Pride. We gladly accept the mission and will do everything in our power to stop them. Silencieux, fourth battle speed. Keep the cloaking device engaged and prepare the torpedo launchers one and two, followed by number three and number four."

"Aye sir !"

The small corvette got close to the New Imperial-I class destroyer and fired her torpedoes before moving to another location to fire another volley of deady missiles.
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Fleet carrier CV-2 Tonnant
Commanding officer : Commander Erika Richthofen


Once her ship regrouped with the fleet, Erika gave the green light for the launching sequence. One by one the bombers took off and began flying in formation, heading toward the Screaming Dragon in order to disable its shields and strike the bridge. The first wave came back to replenish their bomb bay, followed ten minutes later by the second wave. Once the bombers were full again, they took off to resume their mission, escorted by starfighters.
 

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Equipment: Wolf Lead
Allies: GA
Enemies: MAW
Tags: Khione Khione
As Ari continued to weave through the fire and approaching the fighter screen, she noticed some familiar uglies being lead by a decidedly unfamiliar fighter. So it seems like my mystery rival has found a new toy. Pushing her throttle stick forward and rigging the fighter's stabilizers for maximum maneuverability, Ari keyed up her weapons systems and made sure everything was in place for some fighter-to-fighter combat. She wasn't going to let the dogs of the Maw escape her one more time. It looked like it was time to get in the enemy's head

"Hey look, an old friend!' Ari said, keying in a hail to the unfamiliar fighter. "Are you going to let me kill you this time, or run off like last time?" Her superhuman reflexes keeping her jinking out of danger, Ari accelerated towards the enemy formation, directly towards the flight of Death Seeds and their leader's new fighter.
 
Second King of The Elysium Empire
Post: 4
Objective: Prepare the troops for battle
Tags: Nyaeli Zet Reav Zet Reav Loreena Arenais-Valhoun Cear'bhaill
Encamped Forces:
200x Infantry
30x Neo Stormtroopers
15x Tyrant-I Class Light Artillery Pieces
15x Elysium Lion Knights
45x Imperial Engineers

Assaulting Forces:
500x Infantry
2x Elysium Bryn-Killer Droids
5x Therato Medium Assault Walkers
15x Elysium Lion Knights
60x Neo Stormtroopers (2x Groups)

Before Rex could even make it half way to The Flesh Raiders, the planet of Tython itself was changing. Rex didn't understand how, or why, but the ground was shaking, the hills and mountains around him were cracking and lava was seeping out. It was as if it were damaging itself from the inside...

He could hardly walk now, stumbling around as the floor beneath him cracked, shifted, and crumbled. The Flesh Raider Encampment was surrounded by hills, surly making this area worse than other parts of the planet. Meanwhile The Force was screaming at him from all directions, stronger than he had ever felt it before. He remembered Martin Dux, head of The Order of The Lion, describing events like this...but he couldn't remember their cause other than it had to do with The Force. More recently, The Nether invasions that had plagued the galaxy and led to the fall of The Confederacy. They had been a Force-related event. But Rex knew too little.

It was as if oblivion itself was upon them. The temperature of the entire mountainside had seemingly tripled, it was now humid, and sweat poured down The King's face. But worse than the heat was the lava that was now flowing down both sides of the hills between them and the flesh raiders.


"Zet! Change of plans, we need to get back to our own encampment! Let the lava take care of the Flesh Raiders!" switching to his commlink he yelled, "All forces, retreat to The Encampment!!!"

Surely the river would protect them from the erupting mountainside....
 
AhKkZ0ptBTyC0yi8tL-HzMADOgPJAydNCtQmC29ct_EKVyruzJl0okM1YeATK0-on6r7Nzb5EhZoR01A7s0Wa0dN-aByH99G-5iDG8wu_MzalPkLNi_JAHMliKJAw8Bs2GRgK0sf


Location: Jedi Temple - Tython
Objective: Engage Silas the Jedi
Equipment: Lightsaber, Voidsaber, SHT-26 "Bedevil" Heavy War Bike
Allies: BOTM
Enemies: GA
Engaging: Silas Westgard Silas Westgard

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The Ubese could sense the Jedi heading his way, good, he would not have to wait any longer than he needed to. Superious hated waiting, but he was after all a Sith and they keep their calm before the storms that they are known for. Which made him mull Thomas's offer over in his head once more, to make his mind up fully without room to error on his part, once he gives his answer there will be no going back, same with him joining the Maw, he never looked back since he signed up to the cause.

Rage, Death and Rebirth, the way of the Maw. Superious had not yet made up his mind on what to actually do with the chance to join the Scarhounds, and would he need to rise from the ground like Thomas? He was not going to enjoy being buried in the earth, he would try to avoid it if he can. Cannot have dirt clogging up his helmet's breathing equipment then it will be a job to clear out again

Superious glared at Silas, sizing up the Jedi, the lessons learned from the past encounters with their kind needed to be implemented, the screaming of the Force hammered into his skull in waves. She was not happy, far from it and all this was pressing down into his skull. Outwardly Superious remained calm, watching his foe like a predator does with their prey. The Contrasting Blue with the searing Orange red cast ominous shadows on the walls and reflected harshly from the Sith's visor.

There are a thousand openings to spring his attack from, up, down and on each side, but the cat never catches a mouse in haste, they wait patiently. This Jedi dared to tell him where he could not go or do. The cheekiness was almost funny if the world outside wasn't burning like hellfire. Neverthe less it was still his job to snuff out the light wherever it shone. Tython was fair game today and as long it takes it will be taken and destroyed by the Maw, no matter what. No Padawan is going to stand in his way.

<"Looks like you'll have to make me leave by fighting me out of that door Jedi, because I am not going anywhere."> Superious scoffed, tone mocking. He's not going to just leave because of some Padawan saying he should.

With that, he settled into a fighting stance, Saber ready to strike.
 

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"All you need to be, huh?"

Surea jostled upright, away from the fleeting warmth of the wall beside her. The voice came from nothing. Had to. In this space, there was only her, right? Panic filled her mind as she sensed nothing, but she could hear him. Breathing, old and raged, from across the room. But she couldn't feel him? For the first time in her life she felt a horror she didn't know she could. Being blind.

The sound of movement, the rustle of cloth. Creaking of metal joints. She scooted back, away from the sounds. This was wrong. As cruel of a cage as this was, it was hers. The breathing got closer. Another rustle of cloth. The cold touch of a metal hand on her shoulder.

"You never settled before." Her breathing quickened. Panic. All she felt was panic and fear. Who was this? Why was this happening? Had she been replaced? Was she going to die?

"Why have you given up so easily?"

Then suddenly she was alone. No more breathing, asides from her own. No rustle of clothing, no touch of a metal hand. All she was left with was the words of the stranger. Given up? Had she? In her panic she clung to that thought. Easier to think about that than try to figure out what had just happened. She couldn't leave the cage anyway, she never co- No. She had. The Acolyte's brow furrowed as she let her senses feel over the cage around her.

She'd broken this cage before. She remembered. She wasn't a slave. That's.. She was Sith. Fear turned to anger. To hate. Her attention shifted to the warmth she'd clung to for so long. Before. When she was still weak. Hate turned to rage as she slammed her fist against the wall. Again and again, uncaring of the pain it brought as she broke her rotted hand. Again and again, until the wall itself came down.

Surea jolted awake. Or at least would have, if not for being pinned down. Pain wracked through her body. The wounds from the bullets had stopped bleeding, even started to heal, if it could be called that. Black and rotted flesh seemed to spiral out as if her rot had accelerated. It didn't hurt, but what was one smooth skin had turned to something closer to cracked rock.

But that's not what mattered. Not even the thought of her attempt to spread Rot mattered. The Force, the panic it brought as the moon came down. Reverence had changed. The wonderment of the Sith's power was now where it should be. Fear. She stayed unmoving, but clearly awake.

"You didn't kill me."

Amani Serys Amani Serys | Kai Bamarri Kai Bamarri
 

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There was an odd calm to Iris. She could see it in the colors, the destruction of Tython as the moon itself came down. It was a twisted, almost broken shade she didn't recognize. Any other time it would've brought her fear. It should have brought her fear. If it was the only color around. But it wasn't. Dancing through it, wrapping around it like a soothing balm, the Jedi. Their meld, their meditation and connection. Their desire to protect the world and the people who still lived here. Whether they would succeed or not didn't matter.

The Padawan lifted her blade, letting that calm wash over her.

"You should look again."

Vents of hot air erupted between them. Iris stayed still, her eyes focused not on the world around them but on the colors Thalia Senn Thalia Senn had. The darkening of lethal intent. The vent ended and Thalia leapt forward to strike. Iris stepped back. Let her saber extinguish from where she should have blocked to let the blades swipe though air. Then, perhaps in an ironic twist of fate, raised a hand to let the Force flow through her and try to throw Thalia back.

"You can still fight this. The Dark." Her blade reignited as she retook her stance. Both scarred hands holding the blade in front of her as her oddly colored eyes stared. She reached through those colors, reached to Thalia. Not Tempest, but the girl still inside. "Keep fighting. Break free."
 

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