Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Annihilation Shatterpoint | BotM Annihilation of GA Held Tython



The stones connected, sending the Mandalorian sprawling. But even with His adversary thrown about, the Dark Lord did not give pause to His efforts. Lunging into range, He reached out with the Force to loosen the burning soil beneath the Mandalorian's feet, the resonance causing the ground to shift and vibrate as stones and other loose objects began to sink into the dirt as though it were a viscous liquid. Through this, the Dark Lord would attempt to entrap the Mandalorian entirely beneath the earth, entombing him until he was completely submerged. If successful, the Mandalorian would find himself buried alive, initially safe thanks to his armor's life support and protective nature, but potentially trapped on a dying world.

Meanwhile, the Dark Lord's forces had finally dislodged the henge's defenders and sent them scattering. Darth Isolda was the first to pass through the henge's threshold, followed by her guardian; the blademaster Darth Pyrrhus. A flood of menial cultists trailed in their wake, moving between each of the six large monoliths and painstakingly etching Sith runes into the stone. In an active war zone, everything had to be done promptly, otherwise you risked death. Despite the rushed nature of the ritual preparations, the cultists were well-rehearsed and did not falter in their tasks even as reality itself appeared to come apart at the seams. The power of their Dark Father would see their toil rewarded.

When all that was said and done, another group of servants came forth from the hillside. They brought with them a sacrifice, a Jedi Master that had been captured long ago and subjected to repeated blood-letting. Drained of resistance, the Jedi Master was limp in his captor's arms as they dragged him before the seeing stone. Forcing the Jedi to his knees, they brought forth black clay pots filled with red paint. Dipping their fingers in the mixture, the cultists drew symbols on the Jedi's face and exposed chest. Having been deprived of the will to fight back, the Jedi watched all of this through glazed eyes.

At the same time, one of the cultist's own was brought forth and placed on the opposite end of the seeing stone. In stark contrast to the Jedi, the cultist willingly submitted themselves to their fate. The same runes were drawn on their naked flesh, a hymn of devotion whispered in a hushed, but excited, voice. When that was done, the other cultists backed off beyond the perimeter of the henge monoliths and left only the two sacrifices and Isolda within; even Pyyrhus had moved to the hillside and stood silent as he watched. Isolda mounted the seeing stone, a harrowing litany spilling forth from her mouth as she wielded the power of the Shadow and of the goddess Vahl in tandem.

Like a spark of flint, both the Jedi and the cultist erupted into bright blue flames. Though their flesh was rapidly consumed, neither called out in pain nor panic. The energy extracted from their bodies as they burned away to ash rushed forth, whirling around the seeing stone as Isolda tapped into her awesome powers of precognition, the stone itself starting to glow with a pale blue light. That light rushed along the channels and conduits etched into the ground and the stone monoliths, illuminating the entire henge as the light shifted from pale blue to blood-red. Energy encapsulated the entire hillside, swirling and rising higher and higher into the air until a pillar of light erupted into the sky. The pillar rose higher and higher until it seemed to connect with the Bogan moon, which yet eclipsed all light on Tython, and seemed to bridge the span between the two celestial bodies.

Isolda's eyes were engulfed in blackness, her mind thrust beyond all corporal space and into the broiling miasma of the future...



 

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Jacen Nimdok Jacen Nimdok
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BENEATH KALETH TEMPLE
TYTHON

Two Final Dawn troopers fell in a smoking heap. Captain Monk raised a closed fist and the others froze, returning to attention.

"Consider this my peer review," Vector sneered at his rival's chivalrous gesture.

More dust rained down. With each step mirages formed and the archaeologist saw his life flash before him. Dreary Galidraan. His studies on Dromund Kaas. His first dig site on Thule. Being summoned by the Dark Council and expecting to die. Receiving their measured praise instead. Project Tantiss and the Dark Lord's Grand Plan. It was this irrational belief in his own cosmic importance which drove Monk forward even when sense urged caution.

At ten paces he turned and cried out, "Sith Eternal!"

Vector aimed his sleek looking blaster at Nimdok's heart and pulled the trigger. Reality shattered between them like a fallen pane of glass.
 

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The Temple Ruins
Location: Tython, Jedi Temple Ruins / Flooded Plains
Tags: Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka | The Amalgam The Amalgam | Scylla AI Scylla AI | Draco Miles Draco Miles

  • TEMPLE RUINS
    • Reality begins to unravel, unleashing strange netherworld effects
    • Kovach barely manages to parry Zark's strike, then launches his own attack
  • FLOODED PLAINS
    • A torpedo barrage causes significant structural damage to the grounded star destroyer
      • Flaming metal shrapnel flies out from the impact, threatening to hit Draco Miles Draco Miles
    • The Flooded Plains dry out, and the Legion of the Leech has to fall back
    • The cryo-ritual freezes a swath of burning marsh... and a number of Mawite troops
    • Reality begins to unravel, unleashing strange netherworld effects
    • Onas survives the attack because of a rogue wave of Force Slow

Temple Ruins ("Kraken Ruins")
Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka | Scylla AI Scylla AI
The roar of hovertanks and starfighters seemed to fade.

To Kovach Na Kranakh, they became no more than background noise.

All around him, even the mighty clash of vehicles and troop formations was dwarfed by the tectonic upheaval. It seemed as though all of Tythos Ridge was bursting into flame, ancient peaks splitting open to spill their molten blood, valleys crumbling to dust until each became a jagged abyss. So much ash and steam flowed up from the fissures that a curtain of shadow fell over the battlefield, blotting out the sun. Beneath the sweltering darkness, glowing lightsabers and flying blaster bolts provided erratic bursts of illumination.

Finishing off a toppled Raider Walker with a precise stab of his laser sword, the Jedi looked up and met Kovach's challenging gaze. The ground rumbled and churned between them, threatening to throw anyone standing there from their feet - or even to give way entirely, as it had on the southern side of the ruins, toward Kaleth. There would be no reaching that ancient city now, Kovach knew. The Scar Hounds would have to fight and die here, locked in with the Alliance forces like a pair of felinxes tied in a bag and thrown into a raging river.

The Jedi did not walk over that dangerous ground. Instead he leapt, clearing the entire rumbling field and landing a short distance away from Kovach. It was an inhuman distance to jump, a reminder that his sorcery made him far more powerful than his outward appearance might indicate. He advanced slowly, calmly, as if strolling through one of his temple's meditation gardens rather than facing a deadly foe in the midst of the apocalypse. Such arrogance. It made Kovach burn with hatred, and his hatred lent him strength.

The Jedi struck one-handed, for the other hand held a smoking fragment of the ravaged moon... and yet that one arm stuck with the strength of five men. Accursed sorcery. Kovach strained to hold back the blow, muscles bulging, hydraulic exoskeleton sparking. The edge of his dread blade rasped against the lightsaber in a tortured scream, as if one kyber crystal recognized the maimed half of another. Finally, gasping for breath, the Scav King managed to force the lightsaber aside before it could split him in twain down the middle.

But as they had clashed, reality had unraveled.

It had been attempted before, of course. The infamous Darth Vitiate had learned to strip the Force itself from entire planets, and had planned to remake the entire galaxy as he saw fit, an immortal god to rule over all. The so-called Droid God Omni had attempted to pull all of realspace into his realm of Oblivion, aiming to put an end to all chaos and inflict a new necro-mechanical order on the universe. And now Darth Solipsis, mastermind of the Maw, took his turn at remaking all that is, with Tython as the lathe to reshape the cosmos.

An unearthly golden wind - can a wind have a color? Somehow, this one did - whipped across the temple ruins, and it carried unearthly potential along with it. Before Kovach's eyes, rust and battle damage flaked off his armor as if they were nothing more than dust being wiped away. Strands of ruddy brown appeared in his ash-grey beard, and the crow's feet around his eyes began to smooth out. A hundred meters to his left, a river of bubbling lava began to run backwards, as if the ground were somehow slurping it back up.

From the west, a different wind blew, this one somehow purple and carrying the reek of earth and rot. It blew across a scaly wingmaw, the invasive predator flapping frantically as it tried to escape the battle. The creature crumbled instantly to bones and dust, then scattered on the musty breeze. The ground to Kovach's right shattered like glass, a circle of it a meter across suddenly resembling the surface of a broken mirror. Beneath it, bathed in crimson light, he thought he could see the face of the first man he'd ever killed.

"The gods are here among us!" Kovach bellowed in exultation, eyes bright with fanatical flame. "Witness this, Jedi! Neither your kyber blade nor your magic can save you now!" As the winds of the Netherworld howled around him, the Scav King lashed out with a two-handed strike, his cybernetic augmentations interfacing with his mighty battleframe to make the strike swifter and more powerful than any ordinary human could possibly achieve. He had the might and precision of the machine on his side.

"HAIL THE INEVITABLE!" he cried, dread blade howling.

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

Flooded Plains / Crashed Star Destroyer
The Amalgam The Amalgam | Scylla AI Scylla AI | Draco Miles Draco Miles
Nothing, it seemed, could crack the Io cruiser's armor.

Though missiles, bomblets, and ion cannons pounded away at it, in addition to the few remaining guns of the grounded star destroyer, the Rhand-class vessel just wouldn't go down. Surely the Alliance would have liked to have a few of these at Coruscant, or the NIO at Nirauan! The ship's return fire slammed into the grounded Crucifix II star destroyer, breaking through shields at last to rupture upper decks. Surges of flame raced through its corridors. Bulkheads slammed shut in an effort to contain the many cascading explosions.

The damage was good news for the cruiser's gunners...

... but very bad news for those in close proximity to the ship.

Draco Miles Draco Miles , for example. As she cut her way through the ranks of Mawite defenders, the wounded (but not yet finished) star destroyer's upper levels went up in flames. A rain of razor-edged debris, white-hot from the fires of the torpedoes, spewed out across the battlefield. Warriors screamed as the blazing shrapnel burst through their bodies, ripping them apart or impaling them like pinned insects in some collector's display case. That wave of destruction came straight at Draco. She'd have to think fast to survive.

Sol Stazi Sol Stazi was in the same danger, if he was still in the area.

As the Io troops and tanks continued their advance, their high-power arsenal of incredibly rare weapons tearing through foes with merely ordinary equipment, the Flooded Plains were transforming. The last of the water along the marshland's eastern side drained away, leaving only exposed tree roots and boiled amphibians and a layer of silt that sucked at the boots of the warriors. With no water left to provide them shelter or relief, the trees and shrubs of the swamp went up in flames, blazing from the heat of the flowing magma.

The marsh became a forest of torches.

As the mud and vegetation that had sheltered them dried out or burned, the Legion of the Leech was forced to pull back. Still guided by their tactically-minded elders, the lugubraa retreated in good order. They fall back to the northern shore of the lake, beyond the worst of the Scylla AI Scylla AI 's ravages, though it seemed that nowhere in Tythos Ridge was truly safe from the devastation. Their heavy repeaters blazed the entire time, returning the enemy's fire with infantry-shredding rounds while starfighters gave them cover.

Just as the survivors of the raging battle began to adapt to the heat, of course, the battlefield went the other direction. A wave of cryonic energy spread out from the Io ritual site, its extreme cold freezing the burning trees so swiftly that they cracked like glass under the strain. As a great swath of burning marshland shattered from the sudden temperature change, the warriors in the way were not spared. The lucky ones died instantly, frozen into gruesome sculptures. The rest felt the heat swiftly leached from their bodies.

They fell in eerie silence, pale and stiff, eyes wide open.

Beneath the starfighter stalemate, each side dividing its attacks between ground targets and airborne rivals, Onas Korv watched as her weapon arced through the ash-choked skies. For a moment she was just a girl of seventeen again, back in her school on Shor, listening to the roar of the crowd as her javelin flew further than anyone else's on the field that day. For a moment she dared to believe that someone like her, an ordinary person, could matter, could make some mark on this galaxy thick with gods and monsters.

Then, with contemptuous ease, an Io sorceress flicked it away.

Onas closed her eyes. So much for those dreams. Not in this galaxy. A simple soldier like her would be a legend with forty confirmed kills; the champions all around her waded through the bodies of thousands. They took lives like hers without even noticing, without stopping to wonder who she'd been and what had led her to this point. She was just another nameless enemy grunt to them, hardly even worth tallying on their figurative scorecards. She was a pawn in the endless conflicts between immortal, invincible gods.

Darth Vader, butcher of millions, had been offered redemption.

The heroes never even asked all the stormtroopers they killed.

Onas opened her eyes to a trio of bright muzzle flashes up on the hill, and she knew she would be dead before she even heard the shots. There was no cover, nowhere to take refuge, and her armor would not stand up to repeated explosive rounds. This was it, then. All her life amounted to. She'd hoped she could make one last difference, go out with some kind of meaning... but in the end, all she had to fall back on was that she'd been brave enough to charge a god with nothing in her hands but a stick strapped with detonite.

She faced the shots head on.

And then the skies broke open.

The howling winds of the Netherworld scoured the battlefield, called by the world-shattering power of the Dark Voice's ritual. The sorcery was reaching a fever pitch, and reality itself was beginning to warp and twist like a wooden board left out in the rain. The trio of explosive rounds streaked toward Onas... and then slowed to a crawl a meter in front of her. They still flew, but in slow motion, the supersonic wakes of disturbed air they kicked up visible behind them like ripples in clear ballistic gel. Onas flexed her hands. They moved normally.

It was only the explosive rounds that had slowed...

... from flying at 1,700 meters per second...

... to a mere centimeter per second.

Maybe the gods were watching.

Or perhaps it was just a chaotic echo of the Force Slow curse unleashed by one of the Io commanders in orbit, the one currently wreaking havoc on the bridge of the Fatalis. But Onas couldn't know that. She only saw what was right in front of her, and she took it as a sign. Maybe she could still die well. Maybe she could still matter, with a little help from the Avatars. Rushing over to a nearby Mawite, who stood frozen and dead in the shadow of a broken tree, she wrenched his blaster pistol and warblade free of the sculpture.

Along with a frozen finger, which she hastily dropped.

Turning around, she ran down into one of the deep trenches that had once been the bottom of a woodland pond, the water evaporated and the silty bottom frozen solid enough that it didn't suck at her boots. That Io warrior who'd fired on her would no doubt be coming to finish the job, so if she wanted to matter, she had to figure out how before he did. She picked her way closer to the hillside, using the trench for cover, then popped out to squeeze off a flurry of shots at the charges being enchanted up there. Maybe, just maybe...

... she would still be able to trigger them.
 
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Nimdok also took aim and fired at Monk. To his dismay, reality broke at that exact moment. Fractures like broken glass appeared around him, disrupting the trajectory of the blaster bolts.

Yet even as the projectiles were seemingly rendered harmless, Nimdok felt an odd phantom pain in his chest. He laid his free hand over his heart, feeling the organ’s steady beating against his palm. There was no wound there… yet he couldn’t shake the sense that the blaster bolt was still barreling toward him, moving through space like a premonition, and it was only a matter of time before it struck true.

Reality may be breaking, but the will of the Force couldn’t be stopped. He wasn’t exactly ready to die, but he knew he had cheated death one too many times already. This time, there would be no coming back.

Lowering his hand, Nimdok pinned his faltering smirk back in place. But there was a thinness to the expression which hadn’t been there before, and his voice rang hollow. “Quite a scathing review,” he remarked. “But it seems you missed your mark, thanks to the machinations of your master Darth Solipsis.” Granted, Nimdok was guessing at what had caused all this, but it wasn’t that hard to figure out. Solipsis had done it before, after all.

Just for good measure, Nimdok shot at two more Final Dawn soldiers, wondering if they too would be saved by the Dr. Strange-esque breaks in reality.

 
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Location: Ruins of the Jedi Temple - Tython
Objective: Save a Sister
Dialogue Legend: <<Technopathy Link>> │ “Verbal”
Direct Engagement: Project Uriel Project Uriel

There was hope.

Her daughter was a warrior, of that there was no question. Even as Uriel tried to choke her, attempting to fulfill her assigned directive, she saw Ameliora fighting for control via the twitches and tension in her features. Alessandra smiled upon recognizing the melody of the song humming out from her daughter’s vocabulator, beginning to hum in turn as she watched the scene play out before her.

Her daughter was fighting and she was winning. There was nothing in the universe that could make a mother more proud than that.

But then, something changed. Uriel was fighting back. Nevertheless, the Chaplain didn’t dare let her consternation show on her features. If Ameliora saw or even felt a hint of doubt in her mother, then how could she maintain the strength and confidence to fight herself?

“I see you, Ameliora.” Alessandra encouraged, her voice weak, yet unflinching. “I see that you’re fighting and I see that you’re winning! I’m so proud of you, just one last push! Keep going!” She continued, even as the sonic pistol came free of its holster, the HRD’s head jerking sharply as the struggle played out. However, when Uriel pointed the weapon towards her own temple, towards the Chaplain’s daughter, Alessandra could no longer feign confidence. She closed her photoreceptors as the subsequent electrical discharge went off, before suddenly, the HRD collapsed to the ground, relieving the pressure on Alessandra’s chassis in an instant. Nevertheless, in spite of her injuries, the Chaplain was on top of the Terminatrix in an instant, photoreceptors wide with distress as she desperately searched for any sign of Ameliora, any sign of her daughter in the aspect of the HRD’s features.


"Mother. Thank you for teaching me to dance," came the voice of her daughter somewhere inside the tormented shell, weaker, frayed connection, distant static, but there.

Ameliora tried to grasp her mother's hand in one final gesture, not quite reaching it, eyes softening to a less threatening amaranth shade.

"We understand why you have to live. Sister, Niece, and one day daughter will be lucky to have you."

Alessandra immediately fell on top of the HRD, squeezing Ameliora in a tight hug as she did. The weakness in her voice initially went unacknowledged, so overwhelming were her emotions as she moved to embrace her daughter.

“No. Thank you, for fighting, Ameliora.” Alessandra answered softly. “And you’re my daughter now. Not-”

And suddenly, the Chaplain paused, her photoreceptors going wide with confusion, then shock as she felt her daughter’s body go still in her arms.


"It's Dark here," Ameliora voice quiet somewhere inside, body going still,

“No, no, no.” Alessandra whimpered, a lone tear sliding down her features as she did. “You’re okay, Ameliora. Just look at me, alright? Momma’s here. She loves you. She’s gonna get us out of here.” She continued. Immediately, Alessandra frantically tapped the OmniLink on her right gauntlet, the screen caked with silver blood as she worked to get in contact with House Io’s forces.

“This is Chaplain Alessandra Io. Requesting an immediate evac! I have someone with me!” She said,

There was naught but silence on the other end.

“Repeating: This is Chaplain Alessandra Io. Requesting an immediate evac! We need assistance! Amplifying signal, please respond!” She spoke again, this time her voice laced with panic and anger.

The silence she got in return was deafening.

Alessandra turned back to her daughter, tears now flowing freely down her sepia-toned features. Then, she glanced up, her photoreceptors taking in the fires, the flowing lava, and the storms raging around her. It was only then that the Chaplain realized that she was on a small “island” swell situated over a raging pit of lava, which was slowly, but surely beginning to sweep over the island and might soon consume them both in a fiery blaze. Alessandra could fly to a safer area via her repulsors, but with her broken “bones”, she would be unable to carry her daughter with her.

If she left, Ameliora would die alone.

“Someone’s coming, Ameli. We just have to wait, okay? I’m not leaving you, no matter what.” As she spoke, Alessandra’s photoreceptors began to glow a bright pink, before being discharged in a circular arc around herself and her daughter, creating a small firebreak around the “island”. A few moments after the initial discharge, her photoreceptors took on a cyan glow and fired off twin beams of cryogenic energy, which extinguished some of the approaching flames.

She could only hope that it would buy them enough time.


"Tell me a story."

“I…” Alessandra hesitated, questions filling her mind. What story could she tell? How would she end it? Where would it begin?

Most significantly, would this be her last opportunity to tell her daughter a story?

“Okay. Let me tell you the story of the Black Knight and the Bryn'adûl.”

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The Legend of the Black Knight began in the fires of the Third Imperial Civil War, a conflict which swept the across reaches of the Tingel Arm and eventually led to the collapse of the Tenth Sith Empire. However, amidst the raging conflict, something yet more terrible was transpiring in the depths of Wild Space, where the monstrous hordes of the Bryn'adûl waged a campaign of genocide against the sapient races of that region, putting the Pa’lowicks, the Kubaz, the Er’stacians, and yet more species on the brink of extinction, while transforming entire worlds into burning hellscapes via massive terraforming worms.

In the midst of the ongoing conflict in the Tingel Arm and the crisis in Wild Space, the Jedi Orders of the galaxy found themselves at a crossroads. Support the New Imperial Order in their rebellion against the Sith Empire and therefore, using the conflict as a way to continue prosecuting their ancient feud against the Sith? Or wage a campaign of total war against the Bryn'adûl and work to save thousands of species from genocide?

In their fanatical, foolish fury, the Jedi decided that thousand-year feuds weighed more heavily than the lives of quadrillions of sentients.

However, amidst this collective delusion, there was one Jedi who saw through the veneer of lies propagated by her Order and decided to forge her own path. That Jedi was Laertia Io, who upon gathering a group of like-minded allies drawn from Orders both Light and Dark and creating an army of sons—the very first Nuetralizers—set out to do what the Jedi Order had failed to do. However, even with her new allies, she lacked the capability and resources to wage a full-scale war against the rampaging Bryn'adûl on her own, in spite of some successes.

And so, she turned to the next best thing.

She punished the Jedi.

Across the hellish battlefields of the Third Imperial Civil War, from Generis, to Ziost, Serenno, Dantooine, and yet more, Laertia Io, marching with her army of sons and allies, waged war against the Jedi and their New Imperial minions. So merciless, relentless, and savage was her campaign against the Jedi that she became known as the Black Knight of Ziost, the bane of self-righteous heretics responsible for slaughtering hundreds, if not thousands of Jedi and Imperial Knights in single combat across dozens of battlefields. Those she captured met even worse fates, being stripped of the Force in mass rituals or left permanently wounded through exquisite forms of torture and dismemberment.

As such, the Black Knight was formally censured by the Silver Jedi Order. And yet, even in spite of this denouncement, when the Bryn'adûl came tearing at the borders of the Silver Concord, the Black Knight rallied her forces to aid in driving back the lobster menace…

For she was a warrior and no personal feud, no matter how bitter, could transcend the call of duty when the galaxy needed her most.

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“...and as her daughters, we carry the fire of the Black Knight in our hearts.” Alessandra finished.

“No matter what happens, Ameli…your soul will reflect who you are. You are my daughter, a dancer, a…” The Chaplain paused. “A warrior of House Io.” She spoke softly.


“That is your family. It is our family.”
 
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Please, PLEASE let me know if i've missed anything. Alot to respond to xD

(Total Deployed/Destroyed/Total)
  • Lancer Fighters: 1200/0/1,200
  • Haxor Interceptors: 264/0/264
  • Hornet Bombers: 400/0/400
(Fighter Wing A - Derived from Total)
  • Lancer Fighters 1000/0/1000
  • Haxor Interceptors: 200/0/200
  • Hornet Bombers: 0/0/0
(Fighter Wing B - Derived from Total)
  • Lancer Fighters: 200/0/200
  • Haxor Interceptors: 64/0/64
  • Hornet Bombers: 400/0/400




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

Brotherhood of the Maw: Tu'teggacha Tu'teggacha | Aldo Garrick Aldo Garrick | Derix Tirall Derix Tirall | Akûz the Ravager Akûz the Ravager | Marlon Sularen Marlon Sularen | Onrai Onrai | KV-6000

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

”Sir, the Mawite Superweapon is about to fire!”

”Brace for Impact!”

Shortly before the Ragnarök unleashed its proton beam cannon against the Avatar of War, the massive Mawite Superweapon was primed to do the same. While the bridge crew monitored the buildup of energy with rabid anticipation and braced for what would surely be a devastating impact, the beam surged forth and the direction of the Ashlan Crusade’s fleet instead. It was not uncommon for a ship as massive as the Avatar to acquire multiple target locks, yet even still it clearly had an intimidating effect upon the otherwise resolute men and women of the Eternal Fleet. Then, the Ragnarök’s main armament shot forth as mentioned previously, causing the entirety of the massive Super Star Destroyer to rumble from the sheer power coursing through its reactor conduits.

Relief could be heard within the tone of the engineering officer as he relayed a status update:
”Proton capacitors have been drained, and are currently cooling for recharge Admiral.” The officer began. ”It will be a bit before we can fire the main cannon again.”

”Concentrate all other armaments upon the Avatar, and prepare maneuvering thrusters for last minute evasive maneuvers--”

”Sir, elements of the fleet are reporting target locks from the other half of the Mawite fleet. I’m also registering several fighter squadrons inbound in pursuit of the Elysium Fighter Wing.”

Aximand glanced at his terminal, analyzing the positional data before him. He heard the voice of the Ragnarök’s commander in the background:

”Finally, the feckers decided to shoot back at us.” A slight chuckle resounded amongst the bridge crew, which was cut through with a knife by Aximand himself:

”Our forces combined with our allies may outnumber the Mawites, but we shall not grow overconfident.” The resolve in Aximand’s bearing brought everyone back to the current situation - a sober air of focus being exuded by their senior commander. A grimace lined the Admiral’s features as he noted exactly how many Mawite fighters were in pursuit. It would appear as though it was the full weight of Wraith Squadron, yet thankfully - it would appear they were approaching in waves rather than one massed formation. Aximand nodded over at the comms station: ”Execute a flak bombardment of the pursuing fighters. Relay telemetry data to the Elysium fighter wing to avoid friendly fire as best we can.”

Immediately, as the Mawite fighters began to approach in waves, the poised weaponry of the Ashkelon Escort Frigates unleashed - peppering the void with high intensity EMP discharges and flak shrapnel as they approached. Their point defense batteries tracked whatever craft would break through, ready to open up with a devastating cross fire of intersectional rapid-velocity AA fire as needed. As all of this developed, Aximand continued:

”Redirect our deployed fighters and interceptors to meet the incoming Mawite squadrons once they breach the flak bombardment. And get the rest of our birds out there!

Within moments of the order being relayed, the remaining fighter strength of the Eternal Fleet scrambled to comply with the order. Hundreds upon hundreds of additional fighter craft surged forth from the bowels of the Eternal Fleet’s ships. It would take some time for them to deploy and reinforce the already scrambled fighter wing, yet the countermeasures already in place would likely buy them whatever time they needed.

Aximand glanced back down at his tactical readout and processed the data upon it before continuing:
”Redirect all other ships to acquire targeting solutions against Wraith Squadron. Organize a detachment from our fighter wings to deploy all available bombers against the Avatar of War. Order weapons free - all captains may fire at will upon target acquisition. And lastly - ” He paused, making direct eye contact with the comms officer: ”Deploy our flanking force.”

Finally, the orders went out in their entirety - a cacophony of motion at work to comply with the Rear Admiral’s directives. The ENS Tiberius, along with the other two massive Apocalypse-class Artillery Battlecruisers, all set about acquiring target locks upon the Supremacy Star Destroyers who in turn began doing the same, along with easily half of the Coda-class Frigates and Demeton-class Cruisers. The other half worked in tandem with the Eternal-class Star Destroyers as they set about doing the same against the Tyrant-class Star Destroyers and the pair of Invincible-class Battlecruisers.

Meanwhile, the pair of Vikaander-class Light Cruisers along with the contingent of CR90 corvettes and a small collection of Disruptor corvettes that had thus far deployed along the flanks surged forth - wheeling wide at full burn as they made way to assault Wraith Squadron’s flanks. Then finally, the first wave of bombers with escort fighters made way to the Avatar - making a bee-line toward the main armament of the massive construct.

As all of this developed before him, Aximand reflected over the sheer scale of what was unfolding before him. Hundreds of ships were engaged in the void around him - with hundreds of thousands of souls dying in the name of both chaos and order. While his focus remained razor-sharp, his thoughts drifted to his lover. Would he see her again? Publicly, he was a borderline war criminal who had committed a number of atrocities against those who had sought to...

To be free.

Yet now, he was fighting for people who shared the same ideals as those he had fought to suppress.

That was under a different leader, at a different time. Yet, he could not help but wonder - if history had been different, if Tacitus had remained in power; would he be standing here today, shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the galaxy in the face of such an existential threat?

Or would he be on the other side of the battlefield, fighting in the name of the Dark Voice and all it represented? Time and circumstance played their bitter ironies upon the minds and hearts of the guilty. Hopefully he would live to consider such ruminations again.

When the fate of the galaxy no longer hung in the balance.


  • The Ragnarök doubles down, firing all ancillary weapon systems upon the Avatar of War as its main armament recharges.
  • The Eternal Empire picket line, already deployed in a manner to protect the fleet from incoming fighter waves, unleashes into the void with flak bombardment as the fighters of Wraith Squadron approach.
  • The deployed fighter craft of the Eternal Fleet maneuver to intercept the first wave of the Mawite fighter wave upon breaching the flak cloud.
  • The remainder of the Eternal Fleet’s fighters launch so as to reinforce the first wave of fighters.
  • A flanking force of Corvettes are making way to assault Wraith Squadron’s flank, spearheaded by a pair of Vikaander Light Cruisers.
  • The already deployed bomber squadrons, with a token force of interceptor escorts, are breaking away and making an attack run on the Avatar of War - targeting its main armement.


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Tag: Switching to Tythons Wound Tythons Wound soon, please direct tags there.
Indirect Mentions: Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis



Akar Kesh
Scylla Tunnels:
2km Below the Akar Kesh Ritual Site.

In the tunnels below the malformed ritual that gloriously twisted reality into pretzels, two vong shapers and a Sith Lord were undergoing an entirely different ritual, harnessing the vast energy reserves being fed outward for equally vile creations, not only destruction.

Cybernetic wires, groaning pipes, and the tunnels collecting swells of darkside energy, channeled down toward the core from above had been allowed to fester by the Jedi for far too long. What horrors were being malformed beneath the earth for later, who could say. A different future awaited tython should it survive. Keth demanded it. He would devour its soul in his creations to come, everything was fuel for the long conflict. Even as the walls, the tunnels everything seemed to shift into an unmaking of reality.

Ghost of the Sith Lord Raien Keth was not the iron hammer. That was being crafted at his ethereal fingertips, adding a swelling Sith sorcery of his own, to the last Remaining shards of Darth Krayts armor. The fallen GhostOfProtocol GhostOfProtocol was now considered unworthy to behold the title! The One Sith would have a new avatar, beyond any pitiful acolyte he had endured. Tython's pain and the Maw's malice were what was creating his newest seed for the long conflict, the two vong shapers here with him molding the form.

Pressure extended but not from pipes, or the horrific scene ahead of him, but from the crushing aura that he exerted on the surrounding tunnels, even dead as he was the effect still lingered. Slowly strangling the life of those unworthy to be in his presence, an acolyte nearby was crushed and discarded. In death, working through his pawns, the galactic alliance had not silenced the Sith Lord's amassing of creatures in the dark. Tython would be slowly devoured by its own lifeblood, the essence of Tython drawn inward in greater and greater swells towards this newest creation. The One Sith's newest avatar would be the embodiment of a malformed, corrupted Tython itself. Because Tythons Wound Tythons Wound was coming to fight the Jedi.

Flawless.
 
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Location: Tythons ruined surface
Allies: Maw
Enemies: Valery Noble Valery Noble Kahlil Noble Kahlil Noble
Objective: 1

All around that surrounded the Master of Ren was crumbling ruins, and barren wasteland. The once lush green that stood past Master’s Retreat was burned away. The retreat itself was now nothing more than history, and while Kyrel still stood the ground shook beneath them, the planet itself was dying but not before the planet lashed out at them all. Kyrel himself eagerly engaged both Jedi, first meeting Valery’s violet blades against his saber, and an arm morphed into yet another weapon up his sleeve.

Even as Armageddon took place before them, the death of Tython soon to come about, and the grand design soon complete. The Master of Ren’s beastly senses worked, but not without the drawback of his connection being halfway severed. The moment had made him most vulnerable, and for now Kyrel moved slower than he was normal. His blade strikes in wide, heavy swings meeting her staff blow for blow, the crackling of blades against each other mixed in like a chorus against the rumblings. With each heavy arc of his arm, he felt primal without the dark side his Voxyn senses matched the Jedi with each reflex.

His body on the other hand was starting to buckle from it all, more pieces of his flesh casually fell to the ground. The black liquid flowed freely in puddles. Kyrel seemed as if he was in shambles, but that didn’t stop his focus from waning. With his connection hazy, one thing he felt was Valery’s mind still connected, in the far recesses of her mind was the quiet darkness that didn’t leave.

Focusing on both opponents, when the spears were launched towards him by Kahlil, they started to pierce his flesh. Ripping his arm through one, strands of muscle of the arm keeping it together. With more torn pieces of flesh, spikes and more jagged edges started to contort from the flesh. With each punishing hit he tried to inflict only caused more of the hidden monstrosity to emerge.

When the spears finally took a bigger chunk out of him, it was in that moment he was in a blade lock with Valery. As soon as he felt Kahlil’s spear go through him, the Wrath grinned. In that moment he attempted to pull Valery closer, feeling the blade rip through his flesh. By the time the blade ripped into his chest, the blade would proceed to go through Valery leaving the spear to impale them both. In that moment his sulfur glow of his eyes burned into her’s and all that came from Kyrel was laughter of a sadistic monster. As if him would be the last thing she would ever hear or see.
 
Faith is the heroism of the intellect.
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“Real men despise battle, but will never run from it.”- George Washington


[SIDE NOTE- Any communication inside of this style of brackets is to be looked on as COMMS traffic]

Thurion turned to Caltin, placing a concerned hand on his broad shoulder. There was still plenty of fighting to go before the day was over. "I don't need a medical degree to know you took a beating down there. Are you sure you're well enough to carry on?”

You would think that such a question would bring about a simple “yes” or “no” answer, but these were not simple “yes” or “no” answer times. After all, look at the man to whom “The Lion King”, his Highness King Heavenshield asked the question. Caltin Anselmo Vanagor. The Jedi “Out of time” is NOT named “@Valery Noble. He was a man who had a life that was once equated to the phrase “one personal hell after another.” Was it some sense of hubris? The desire to push himself beyond his perceived limits every day? Was it a sense of duty? Loss?

Hubris was an interesting thought, some might say that he was downright “arrogant” or “cocksure”. Never did he truly think this, really, to think that a man who gave so much of himself to others to be “arrogant” was funny, really. It was not just the fact that he was a Jedi, but that he was someone who desired to see no one have to experience the life that he had. It was one of the reasons that pushed him so ridiculously hard.

He pushed himself constantly. Initially, this was a naive belief on the massive Jedi Master’s part that if he pushed himself physically beyond the limits of others, he could outlast them, he could survive, and fight on. He fought on out of some naive belief that the more he fought the Sith, the Hutts, “evil” the more he would send a message and the more they would back down and disappear. Maybe that was why, when he was Knighted that Caltin “Took the Fight to the Sith”, out of some need to right the wrongs” of the world. To put things back the way they were, or maybe should have been. Or at least that was what his naivete at the time had told him.

His sense of duty? Where would you begin with that? The eight-year-old boy whose world was crashing down around him still had the presence of mind, and the strength to make a promise to his father. His father was taken away (though innocent of any crime they threw on him) to “always do the right thing”. The little boy was moved from a neglectful foster home to an abusive foster home and so on until he wandered into the middle of a gang war and was pulled into Juvenile Hall. A boy that no matter what happened to him, would not sink to the level of those hurting him to the point of one of the guards taking him under his wing and teaching him self-defense. A boy in the middle of a riot “in the yard” was given an exit and safe passage out by the guard who ultimately gave his own life for the little boy to do so.

A little boy, no matter how small stood up for the “even smaller” to those bigger than him, and all of the lost fights, all of the beatings, none of this deterred him, he learned and grew stronger. The boy became known as “The Voice” as he considered himself “The voice of the voiceless”, giving them a Vanguard, a reason to feel safe as they walked the streets. This young man was not perfect, he was damaged beyond his years and would find it catch up with him soon enough. It was a little TwiLek girl who stopped waving to him every morning but run away from him that morning out of fear in her eyes knowing what he had done (killed) that this young man, still not even a teenager found himself at the doorsteps of the Jedi Temple. He knew he was “special” but never knew to what extent until they told him, he did not go there to join the Jedi, he went there to turn himself in, he had become in his eyes what he had abhorred and wanted their help to be better. It was his sense of duty to somehow try and honor his promise to his father and atone for what he had done. He had no idea that they would take him in. No idea at all that he would become a Padawan Learner and take to it so incredibly willingly that he would be Knighted within a few short years. The boy indeed quickly became a man. His duty to that promise gave him his duty to the Jedi.

Loss? Now there is the “Golden Convor,” right?

Vanagor has had his share of losses. The loss of his sister, running away when he was 4 years old after always promising to be there for him. There was the loss of his mother and father as a young child. There was the loss of his childhood for reasons that he had nothing to do with. There was the loss of his innocence, the loss of that little friend. There was the loss of a man he considered a “friend” and “protector” and the loss of nearly everything he held dear. Being a Jedi did not stop the loss either, the loss of not one Master but two, the loss of his adoptive little sister not once, not twice but three times. The loss of his parents a second time, the reconnecting and loss of the mother of his child(whom he had no knowledge of until years later). The loss again of his real sister. The loss of the love of his life (which he never thought he would get to begin with).

Don’t even start on being frozen for over eight hundred years.

If none of these? What was it then? What made answering a simple “yes” or “no” so complicated for him? Was it the fact that no matter how many friends he makes, he cannot let virtually any of them, save a select few, in closer than arm’s length? Is it the critical loss of any social abilities that are not “work-related”? What is it? Maybe, but there is one thing for certain, and things have changed. Maybe all of the time spent persevering paid off. Maybe weathering all of those heart-wrenching, will-crushing storms. Maybe it was all those spirit-stripping losses and heartbreaks. Maybe those are what was the problem. Maybe what changed happened when he was reborn on “The Wellspring”. Maybe what changed happened when Chrysa found each other again(he hoped so). Maybe what changed happened simply with a clap on the back and asking him if he was alright.

The truth is. His entire body was sore and, having tapped into energy he never even considered before, it was not going to change right now. There was more though, he was mentally drained, having done so much, given so much in and of himself that it was taking more out of him than he was able to put in and it all too easily showed. That is why his Highness King Thurion Heavenshield Thurion Heavenshield not only easily saw this but asked him about it, already knowing the answer. That’s the thing with Caltin Anselmo Vanagor though, the minute you learn the answer, he changes the question. That new question was a simple one…

What is keeping him going?

The surroundings were… well… they were wet. There was more destruction, yet again, after all, this was the Brotherhood of the Maw we are talking about and there was more than a share of fighting to continue to go on, but there was something else. There was not more of a sense of urgency, but a better understanding of what was happening and what they were up against. Maybe it was what he did down below, maybe he was still knocked silly from the ride up that they just took. Either way, there was something on his mind and he understood more about what was happening. Not expertly, but understanding. That made it all okay, in a manner of speaking at least.

That also triggered a memory… not that long ago… a colleague that he once chased down a woman, a fellow Jedi that he respected. She had just made a call for help, personally to the Silver Jedi Council. How that vote went down was irrelevant, the big man didn’t follow her for that.

Silver Jedi Concord -
South (Council) Tower -
Vestibule -
A conversation from the past -


Master Jade… Romi…

He walked forward.

I am not here on behalf of the Council. This is for me.

I’m… not “perfect”. Heh, oh so far from it. Yet I thought that if I did the right thing, with the right designs it would make up for my past. My mistakes. If I could keep to that path, that inspiration would give me the reason, give me purpose. Heh, it was naive, I was naive. Then I met Ala Quin Ala Quin Quinn and she represented all of what I wanted to be. In my naivete, I thought that I could make a promise I could not keep and keep her safe.

I failed.

Twice.

The first time, I found her, I was able to feel like I kept my promise again. Then I watched her fall in front of me. You saved her. She’s recovering because of the Praxeum. Thank you for Ala. For saving her. I’m forever in your debt. I don’t know, maybe that’s my problem, that I try to take on too much all the time, but… she was there when I needed her. Always there, So I will be. If you need me? I’m there. Whatever you need. Whenever you need it. It’s time people start remembering what the Jedi were originally meant to be, not just what they are now.


It was that day that things began to change. That day he began to remember why he was who he was. No, he was not physically okay. No, he was not mentally okay? Spiritually? Emotionally? He was just fine. More than fine, and those would just have to do right now. So with a smile as big as this new geyser and about as strong as his chances of having to retell this story several times over, and that is just today, the big man looked at his brother in arms. He then clapped HIM on the shoulder and answered.

Never better.

It’s weird, but the look on him, the resolve, it was like this was what he was meant to do. Like the Force brought him here. To do this, all of it. This is what he was meant to do. All of it. It’s weird, hard to explain. Not just some level of duty, not just some sense of honor or warrior spirit. He was meant to help. He was here to stand up and stand for those that needed it. Even the Jedi had their limits, but he never seemed to in those regards, of what to do and when to do it. Maybe this was why he fought as hard as he did. He fought to give them the chance to give their lives meaning. Those fallen, he fought to give their deaths some level of importance, not just to others, but to stop him from ever wondering why yet another would fall to their end and he was still there. He was truly “never better.”

All of his life, he wanted to find his place in the galaxy, this was it. Was he any better than other Jedi? No, Was he better, than anyone at all? Well yeah, he was better than all of these cultists and monsters attacking the planet, that was for certain. He was who he was and that was okay, it was all okay. So no, he was not “better”, but he was “alright” at least for right now.

Rest tomorrow” Right?

We can stop all of the geological events we want, but they’ll keep coming until we find out what is causing them in the first place and I think that it has something to do with those relays. Now we can waste time and scour the planet looking for them or we can slice one of those things and get what we want, or at least try to.

He needed a few moments to center himself and catch his breath, but the big man was indeed able to do so. He was pushing himself more than he had done in a long time, but he was nowhere near out of the fight by any means. This had a special meaning because of what was happening to those around them at the moment. Caltin waited for no answer from The Lion Kind or special retort. He simply went to work as he always did. Only this time, his work was protection. The best he could, the massive Jedi Master called upon the elements to control (or at least try to control) the flooding as well as any serious threats. The rest? The rest was up to everyone else at the moment.

Location: Between Kaleth/Jedi Temple Ruins/and Flooded Plains

Allies: Coren Starchaser Celeste Rigel Tracyn Ordo Zark San Tekka Cotan Sar'andor Asha Vines Romi Jade Justice Lesan Asmundr Varobalder Jace Khel | Team Lightside

Enemies: Darth Libertas Scylla AI | Team Darkside

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"Vanguard" (Secondary - Long Handle)
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"CONSERVATOR" (Primary - Long Handle)
HK-88 Robes, Battle Armor,Toraynor-Henkan(mind crystal added) Advanced Jedi Utility Belt
Starship: Spectre, (Jedi Interceptor in the hangar, Dilorian, and Bike both in the cargo bay, the late Karki Eusith's Armor, Shield, Temple Guard Lightsaber mounted on the wall)
Sanctuary Island
 
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Slightly Paranoid Apprentice
… maybe volunteering was a bad idea after all. A nuclear device close by, the star destroyer detonating, an orbital bombardment raining around her… Blyat. This would typically be the point where it’d freeze frame and end the episode with a ‘To be continued’ part in the bottom right corner… sadly that’s not how this works. Instead what Draco had to rely on was legitimate quick thinking, seeing that final bombardment rain on the downed cruiser and fairly certain it would detonated, as well as wanting to protect the nuke, she threw up a protective barrier with the Force. Then watching the ship start to go up like fireworks, she changed plans, having rock and lava fly up around her to reinforce the barrier and protect her team from the shrapnel

This did not go as planned. While the barrier certainly helped against small bullet sized debris, the actual large chunks that came crashing down around them tore through her barrier like paper. Among her fireteam, heavy casualties were most certainly sustained, and the only reason Draco would even be alive was due to her armor being made out of Beskar steel, and the ion shielding around her keeping her safe… of course being slammed with molten hot chunks of debris did NOT feel good, so she’d need some R&R after this.

Laying there amongst the dead and heavily wounded she felt thankful to be alive and not FATALLY wounded. A little angry for choosing to charge into artillery, some regret mixed in there, a lot of pain of course from blunt force trauma. All she could really do was lay on top of that nuke and keep the massive hunk of debris barely off her, resting on a Boulder, while the entire battlefield froze over and she was slightly more safe than before among the pieces of broken reality.

What was most important though! The nuke didn’t go off! Hopefully! Please?

If it didn’t detonate, Draco had to pick herself back up and venture forth onto the ravaged cruiser. That nuke still had to go off after all

Tags: The Amalgam The Amalgam
 
Location: Halfway between the cruiser and the star destroyer in the Flooded Plains
Tags: The Amalgam The Amalgam The Mongrel The Mongrel

Sitting astride a speeder bike, Percival came barreling into the battlefield on the swamplands. He was accompanied by five other Neutralizers, each of them on bikes of their own. The gang speared into a cluster of Mawites, attempting to run them over or impale them on the front of their bikes.

They were part of a team of House Io forces which had dropped several miles away. The area they had come from had become too dangerous and chaotic, plagued by earthquakes that had opened massive fissures in the earth and hurricane storms. Dozens of their troops had been killed by these natural disasters, rather than falling in battle. Percival had given the order to head elsewhere, tracking their nearest allies to this position.

While arriving on their bikes made for a cool entrance and took down several marauders, Percival found himself assailed by enemy fire. One shot hit his engine. He jumped out of his seat as his damaged and out of control bike slammed into a tree. The freeze-dried trunk shattered on impact, while the damaged engine exploded.

Shards of wood rained down around him as Percival landed on his feet. The Mawites were upon him in an instant, unleashing fire. He dashed for cover, the ground torn up behind him as he ran, until the rumble of an ally's speeder bike put an end to the shooting.

More Mawites were waiting for him up ahead, this time wielding blades. Percival roared, the sonic organ in his throat blasting a trio of marauders back. A second later, a vibroblade sliced a gash between his shoulder blades. He narrowly avoided another blow meant to remove his head from his shoulders, grabbed his attacker, flipped them over his head and slammed them into the ground. The aspirant wheezed, the air knocked from his lungs, before his pained breathing became wet choking after Percival gored him through the throat with his claws.

Blood trickled from his knuckles as Percival reached his allies. This area was heavily populated by Cult witches, characteristically dressed in white, along with a few House Io soldiers he recognized. With his allies' bikes arriving at the rear, Percival allowed himself to feel a small sense of relief.

That is, until he saw the Parliament coming toward him. His eyes widened, huge and much too green in his mud and blood-spattered face.

"Mother?"
 
Main Scylla Location: North of Akar Kesh
Varian Cavern Processing Hub.
Scylla Tunnels: 2km Below the Akar Kesh Ritual Site.
Tag: Open



Out of the depths of land burned, charred and ashed I was born. Herald of Tythons fate written across my visage. Volcanic ash and embers burned around my every step, the lives lost and souls sacrificed are in every word I utter. Their pain retold through me. Their herald and avatar.

Climbing its way through the tunnels, the Avatar of Tython's black swirling shadow pooled beneath Vong Crab armor, shaped and formed to have jagged edges, layered like masterful covering from the shapers below. A bastardization of what Vong stood for above them in these AI tunnels, the annihilation of those that had driven the one sith to near extinction, was enough for some to create hated things like biots, or in his case a wretch of the highest order.

Following behind him in groaning misery were the voices of the dead, a chorus he would recite in glorious harmony above. The walls ripped at with his approach, the metal began to creak above, and finally the blast door to the bunker was opened, charred ash pouring out.

Before it would close again, this meant a brief opportunity for those above to access the bunker more easily, of course, what was standing in the way wasn't exactly inviting!

OOC:
Assume he walks off to battle and the door closes again for your post if people prefer, or attack him.

Gear
Armor: Vonduun Skeer Kyrric
1x Amphistaff (Left Hand)
1x Huge Vonduun Crab Mace (Right Hand)
6x Razor Bug (Belt)
2x Fighting Claws (Wrists)
2x Darth Krayt Armor Shards (Belt)
Torment.
 


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DON BELKORA
COMPNOR
OBJ3
Rika Hiro Rika Hiro Darth Ptolemis Darth Ptolemis
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Don was by no means fat, being a man of relative fitness for his age, and yet this mountain nearly took the life out of him climbing its peak. When he was a younger lad, climbing and running around Teta's slums was a daily occurrence for a fifteen-year-old Belkora, who spent half his time running from the law for stealing or getting into fights. Now he was a middle-aged man with his memories long faded into the background and dreams of youth and happier times lost, but then growing up poor had been a double-edged sword for the man. It had both installed him with the will to survive and a desire to succeed; how ironic that he had never put such traits into legal enterprises. Maybe then he wouldn't be running or getting away from something his whole life.

Don reached for a rock to lift himself up, only for it to melt away into fine dust carried into the harsh air. He pulled off his sunglasses and mouthed obscenities in shock; Belkora looked around him, things were shifting out of place, and time was warping. Something had happened, it was almost as if Tython was out of sync, reality-bending to the whims and chaos of a dead world engulfed in violence.

Rika was nowhere to be found at his level, so he carried on climbing to the top, huffing and puffing while smoking the last cigarra rummaged out of his pockets.

 


H E A D - O F - T H E - S N A K E
O B J E C T I V E - T H R E E

Primary Objective:
End the Maw.
Secondary Objective: Protect Sensei while ending the Maw.
Location: Flesh Raider Grounds.
Equipment: In biography.
Friendlies: New Imperial Order, everything else except GA and Maw.
Enemies: GA and Maw.
Tags: bleaurgh

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The young girl woke up to the sounds of voices. The toddler lifted her head from the pillow, sleepily looking towards the bedroom door. It was nighttime, what were her aunt and uncle still doing up? Good people only woke up when the sun woke up, she had been taught.

She heard another voice too, distorted by the holographic table in her family's recreation room. She moaned, rubbing her eyes and pulling the blanket off her. She slipped out of the bed, bare feet hitting the floor. She walked up to the door, pressing her ear against it so she could hear what was going on.

The voice was unfamiliar and strange, an older person. Proper sounding and disassociated, yet somber and sympathetic.

<<"I am sorry to inform you that your sister in law, Vidonia Letee, has fallen in the line of duty.">>

Vidonia Letee! That was her mother! Fallen? What did they mean? If she had fallen, she could just get up again, right? Yet, something was terribly wrong and she could feel it. Furthermore, she could hear her auntie immediately crying, as if she was hurt or something awful had happened. Mira's heart pounded as she listened to the conversation, in the darkness of her room. What had happened to her mother!?

The mournful, hoarse sound of her uncle crying flooded Mira with dread. Her uncle was even more stoic and calm than her father. What...

"How did this happen! This was meant to be her last mission!"

Mira was slapped in the face with how angry her uncle sounded. He sounded infuriated! She had never heard someone so mad before. She flinched when the sound of pottery breaking was heard, "What kind of mission did you hypocrites send her on! What did you do to her!"

Mira shivered in fear. Cold sweat clung to her tiny frame as the hologram visitor spoke back in turn, <<"She had been sent on a scouting mission to investigate rumors of dark side cultists. She was found by a Sith assassin based on our records. She was slain by the assassin during her time there. I apologize for your lo-">>

"Shut up about apologies! You don't really care, do you! If you had cared, you would have let her go at the start! Because of you, my brother has lost his other half! Because of you, Vidonia is dead!"


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The sounds of terror resounded as she looked up from under the table. Tightly gripping a knife for self defense, Mira watched as her uncle strapped his family's sword, Utaken, to his side. He grabbed a bowcaster from the counter and peaked out the window, muttering under his breath.

Mira could hear the fighting and screaming outside. Followers of Mythos were attacking her village, breaking into and burning homes, slaughtering her people. Mira closed her eyes. What about her neighbors? The children she always played with? Her community? Not everyone was as skilled in combat as her father and uncle. Mira was wide eyed, unable to believe any of this was happening. Suddenly, her uncle approached the table, battle ready, "Honey, let's go."

Mira gulped, pulling herself out from under the table. Her uncle kept his hand on her head, trying to keep her low enough not to be fired at. They slipped out of the kitchen and down the hallway, towards the backdoor.

"Your aunt is already at the door, we need to move. We'll be fleeing to-"

She was unable to recall the rest. Mira nodded as they approached the doorway where her aunt was indeed waiting. Holding a blaster rifle, the Atrisian woman nodded to the two and turned, opening the door. The moment it was opened, blaster fire rained in. Auntie ducked behind the door as uncle threw himself and Mira down. Auntie periodically peaked out from behind the swinging door and fired her own shots. Meanwhile, uncle pulled the energy bow out and fired as well, still keeping Mira under him. Mira grimaced. Could she not fight too? She had been trained her entire life, she could help. She was being treated as a child. While yes, she felt like a helpless child right now, she was able to keep calm enough as her family fought.

Then, then auntie ducked out to fire again - she was shot first.

She lost her composure for one of the few times in her life, screaming for her auntie. She did not remember her uncle's response, or what happened next.


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The mountainous hillside was hard to see in the darkness. Flames were a ways behind her, her town burning. She could hear the waves of the stormy Atrisian ocean crashing against the boulders of the island. War and tears still resounded behind her as she clung to her uncle's hand. She looked up to him as they fled the city... he was crying.

Auntie...

Her death kept replaying in her mind. Shell shocked and distant, she was unaware of the danger on top of them until her uncle skidded to a halt. Mira stopped as well, looking up to see evil silhouettes approaching. More followers of Mythos...

She was dazed and dumb. Despite all her training, she was shell shocked now. She was unable to move. Yet, her uncle snapped into action. He threw his energy bow aside and unsheathed Utaken, activating the electric sparks as he darted forth and fought them. Against the night, the blue lightning sword swirled as unseen foes were felled. Yet, it seemed that more were coming.

Footsteps echoed behind her. Mira turned to see even more approaching. She reached for the Atrisian blade hidden in her necklace and started fighting as well.

The two, uncle and niece, eventually managed to cut them all down, or so they thought. For a moment, silence fell over them. Mira looked to her uncle, panting from all the running and fires, but managing just fine. Yet, he looked concerned. Mira started to speak, "I'm alrigh-"

"-Mira! Your left!"

Mira turned to see one of the cultists, mortally wounded yet alive, just shooting a blaster bolt at her. Mira's eyes widened, and she tensed ready to move. Yet, her uncle was faster, leaping in front of her and taking the blow himself.


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Her father was dead on the ship floor, having protected her from bandits. The scribe is totally too out of muse to write this whole karking scene. Cope.

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It all replayed in her head, over and over. She curled up in the fetal position, overwhelmed by her trauma. She gnashed her teeth, wept, and crumbled under it all. Alone. Over and over again. Alone.

Alone.
 

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


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Through Victory, the Force shall free me.

Relief. Relief among the bottomless well of hatred burning from inside out to his external gaze, the Sith'ari locked eyes with his opponent as his blade sunk into his flesh. He could hear his labored breaths, sense the pain radiating from within. The Dark Lord took in the moment, drinking in the final moment of his Great Enemy with cold disdain. The Iron Emperor had forever earned not just his everlasting hatred but his utmost respect as a warrior, as a superior duelist, and most importantly as a threat even in his last breaths.

The Lightsaber of Halketh Halketh fell from the Man of Iron's grasp, clattering along the mirrored floor as the Emperor soon followed. The Sith'ari's blade fell back. he along with it as he took a step from Rurik with his full attention fixated on him with caution as his left hand rose slowly, summoning what was left of his strength in one last bid to summon the Force. The Dark Lord of the Sith, puzzled, looked on for a brief moment with his saber extended. He approached, realizing the time had come. With two hands he grasped his lightsaber and lifted his hands, uprooting the weapon for a coup de grace, hoping to ensure there was no hope of Rurik's survival before he himself was spirited away. His task left unattended as he tumbled back from the forcible wave arrayed against him.

Crashing against the rock and mirrored earth, the ground crackled and popped like glass shattering under pressure. His armor skid against the hard surface, his flesh battered and bruised. The Sith'ari came to a crashing halt, pressing both hands against the earth, slowly he began to rise, summoning the strength necessary to continue the fight. To see his will be made manifest.

Bold eyes flashed forward, unholy wrath redirected as those twin orbs of sulfuric malice laid sight upon the Sword of the Jedi mourning his brother and honoring his sacrifice by adorning the Emperor's cloak around his neck. The Voice of the Maw rose to his feet, carrying himself up as his lightsaber hissed to life once more.

"Not much longer now, Fossk. The end draws near..." Ryv marched towards the Sith, stopping a few feet away. "Play your hand," he shifted his attention to the others gathered to face the enemy. "Let's get this over with."

Gladly.

The Sith'ari outstretched his hand, calling upon all that was gathered as the Tho Yor screamed out. So much death, so many lives feeding the heart of this cruel conflict, yet even now in his greatest hour, he had not the strength to finish it. He looked on with anger, thrashing through the empyrean as he called upon the Force from his depleted husk. He let go, denied yet again in the moment of final victory.

He needed raw power to see this through, that same power that flowed through his veins. He needed his daughter, she would finish what he started.

Setting his eyes back as Cotan Sar'andor Cotan Sar'andor appeared before Ryv Ryv , the Dark Lord chuckled aloud and screamed out toward Jem Fossk Jem Fossk .

"THE TIME HAS COME! TEAR DOWN THIS CRUEL DREAM!"

His right hand extended outward,

"END IT, FOR YOUR MOTHER. FOR YOUR BROTHER."

Head twisting back to the Sword of the Jedi, the Dark Lord approached.

"I've waited a long time for this moment Karis. The circle is now complete, the heirs of the Grayson legacy stand in oppostion. Apprentice of the Father, and the Apprentice of the Son."

Taking up a Djem So stance the Sith Master raised his weapon, still moving in steady advance.

"Die well,"

His appraoch quickened, dropping the false guard of his stance and entering a rapid volley of aggression. Hatred unleashed, rage awakened.







 
Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze Corin Trenor Corin Trenor Ryv Ryv Cotan Sar'andor Cotan Sar'andor

But before the Dark Lord could descend on the final resistance, a blade of shadows pierced through his chest. It's surface swirled and gleamed like liquid obsidian. His own blood stained the tip. Behind him stood his daughter, his heiress, her hand outstretched as it manipulated the shadows into the blade that had pierced him from behind.

Just an inch from his heart.

She stared at him with coal black eyes, brimming with the hatred he had said would one day be her strength. He was right. But he was also so very, very wrong.

"This is not my dream," she snarled at his back, seizing the rarest opportunity of them all. Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis , vulnerable. All this time he had miscalculated. He had broken her to the darkness but he had not broken her. She had never stop wanting him dead.

It had felt so hopeless, so impossible to achieve, but as he struggled on these temple steps she saw his weakspot for the first time.

Her.

She pulled a blaster from her belt and shoved it under her chin. In a bitter sweet moment she found herself almost relieved. Deep inside she knew this was end of the line. There was no redemption for what she had done. There was no recovery from what he had done to her. In many ways her father had won, but not here. Not today.

She would not be his key.

She pulled the trigger and severed them both from the dark storm link.

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"Feth..." The Parliament snapped, as some shots whizzed over her head during the ritual, striking mechanisms on the charges.

It didn't destroy the charge or set it off, per se, but instead damaged an activation mechanism on one of them. This was going to complicate what she had in mind. Because it was a doozy.

Unfortunately for Onas, Ted found her when she squeezed off the shots. Frustrated that the bullets had done nothing, he instead found an energy sword from a fallen fellow Citizen, and picked it up, catching sight and trying not to think about his new hand, or the fact it belonged to a newly dead version of his long ago dead wife before sprinting towards that trench,

Wow, he was gonna need therapy. In ordinary circumstances he might have suffered a nervous break down, but House Io's mental fortitude training taught him to push forward at all costs. He could have breakdown after the battle, provided they even survived.

He rushed her position, deciding it was best to finish her up close and personal. Win or lose, all he had was the House. The Bryn'adul and Jedi Apathy had stolen everything else. He would fight to the death on any battlefield to prevent the Maw from getting away with destroying The Galaxy.

The Citizen Soldier had reloaded his rifle with regular match grade rounds as the cracking of reality grew worse around him, the sky fractured like broken glass.

Ted didn't waste time with words. As soon as he got her in his sights he opened fire, the deadly rounds traveling with a truly frightful accuracy at her head, just as the Forces of House Io let their singing carry through the air, magically enhanced by Darth Ryluss to drown out even the sound of battle and the Mawite war chants. They were actually holding a tune, a song both alien yet catchy, deliberately sung out of context (or in context, depending on how you looked at it) for countless enemies. It was almost like a signature catch phrase in the form of a song. It said a lot about how fethed up they were. They could actually keep a tune, which was even more impressive.

"I'VE GOT YOUUUUUUUUUUU, UNNNNNDER-MY-SKIN. I'VE GOT YOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUU, DEEP IN A PART OF ME. SO-DEEP-IN-MY-HEART, THAT-YOU'RE-REALLY-A-PART-OF-ME... I'VE GOT YOUUUUUUUUUUU, UNNNNNDER-MY-SKIN..."

The Forces of House Io, emboldened by the massive damage suffered by the enemy Star Destroyer as well as the wave of cold freezing their enemies yet sparing them, pressed on, starting to rely more on their artillery to cover the approach of their vicious assault, a few Squadrons of Nuetralizer TIE'S occasionally swooping from above to do deadly strafing runs in an attempt to cause havoc towards any advancing fire, even as burning shrapnel from the heavily damaged destroyer forced them to scale back their advance a bit. But they continued relentlessly pounding enemy positions from afar, the Model 2's using volley fire tactics from their Concussion Rifles, emptying their clips as fast as they could into the hoard, advancing in Centurion Columns, the Model 3's right behind them, Sniping at targets of opportunity, trying to lock whole swaths of Mawites in deadly sweeps of suppressing fire while arcing grenades. Model 1's began picking out the Worm Commanders, targeting them for sniping with their own weapons, advancing through now frozen swamps.

There was little The United could do about the burning shrapnel of the Destroyer except cast a belated spell that formed a dome of magically infused water that moved and protected many, but not all of the largest groupings of the House and their artillery from being too hurt. In fact, it was just this that had saved Draco Miles Draco Miles from a nasty death. The domes did not provide total protection, but just enough to skirt by. But whole squads got decimated all the same on the House's side.

But the Citizens, both Organic and not, were too possessed and Fanatical to quit. The same Fanatical resolve that had pushed the Nuetralizers to inflict horrendously brutal casualties at Sev Tok and Danuta, Fanaticism that went beyond mere programming, had been deeply inculcated by the Model 1 officers.

"I TRIED SOOOOOOO, NOT-TO-GIVE-IN. I-SAID-TO-MYSELF 'THIS AFFAIR, NEVER-WILL-GO SO-WELLLLLL..."

In all this Chaos, the Demon of Jedha, having lost sight of Darth Hellique II in the chaos, had relentlessly kept killing, her now infamous Katana, The Five Rings, healing her passively from brutal injuries as much as violently feeding did, out dueling and beheading two Mawite Sith Marauders before throwing herself into the thickest Maw hoardes to try and blunt any advance they might make, driven to knew highs of bloody slaughter, inspiring the Model 1's present and making them fight at her side, mimicking her combat pattern, honoring her by scratching an X into their foreheads when they got the chance. One Model 1 who, for some reason, was wearing a Hockey Mask, found a vibro chainsaw half buried in the dirt, shrugged, revved it up, and cackled like a Psychopath as he spotted a victim...

"BUT WHY SHOULD-I-TRY-TO-RESIST, WHEN, BABY, IIIII, KNOW-SOOOOO-WELLLLL... I'VE GOT YOUUUUUUUUUUU, UNNNNNDER-MY-SKIN..."

They crawled over corpses, taking whatever weapons and grenades they found, many from their own side, many of their enemies, setting up sandbags areas of corpses and shrapnel from both sides, using craters as make shift trenches, stealing armor from the dead to reinforce their own as they sought to shatter the Maw defense lines, some Model 2's using scrap as make shift frontal shields that stopped quite a few rounds.

"I'D SACRIFICE ANYTHING, COME-WHAT-MIGHT, FOR-THE-SAKE-OF, HAVIN'-YOU-NEAR, IN-SPITE-OF-A-WAAARRRRNIN'-VOICE, THAT-COMES-IN-THE-NIGHT, AND REPEATS, REEEEEEEEPEATS IN MY EAR..." they sang maliciously as they fought to try and push into already heavily damaged lines firing both their weapons and now the enemies. The Rhand Cruiser, when it wasn't trying to kill enemy starfighters, would occasionally use it's anti star fighter cannons in a sweep attack at Mawite forces around the Star Destroyer.

"DON'T-YOU-KNOW, LITTLE FOOOOOOOOOOLLL, YOU-NEVER-CAN-WIN..." the lyrics of House Io ground forces carried booming over the battlefield, rallying the House Forces to greater and greater aggression, moving through falling shrapnel and rocks, doing awesome, Tom Hardy style chit by breaking necks and backs, or directing alpha strikes with rockets and grenades on Maw artillery pieces and war beasts.

"WHY NOT UUUUUSSE, YOURRRRRR, MEN-TAL-ITY..."

The Rhand Class Cruiser began using it's tractor beam to catch some of the larger falling moon rocks, and hurled chunks of them at high speed at the Mawite lines advancing on the temple, the Seismic Tank heading to the Tho Yor still alive and operational and definitely closer than where it had started. But it had taken a pretty heavy beating. The crew would have to save all available energy to fire the driver when it reached it's target, shutting down all non essential systems to reduce the risk of catastrophic overloads and fired breaking out from constant attack.

"STEP-UP, WAKE-UP TOOOOOOO RE-AL-ITY..."

The United was summoning tentacles of water as she rampaged through the battlefield to reach Draco, Ryluss conducting an altogether different ritual, that took advantage of the energy of the reality tears, using her own flesh from a skinned arm, as well as her blood and the blood and flesh of over 21 Mawites arranged around her, chanting unnatural things, flesh shuddering as it pulled the tear energy into the ritual.

With the whammy Jem Fossk Jem Fossk had just pulled off, getting a critical strike on Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis , and sacrificing all her hit points to screw him over further, now was the perfect time to drive the knife in deep. Every Force User of House Io felt that act of sacrifice and vowed to take advantage of it, lest Solipsis pull some crazy ass last minute save on himself.

The ritual went active, taking advantage of the very tears he had opened, being channeled through the bodies of those who had used his ritual on themselves, to send a disruptive magical and spiritual effect through the whole of the battlefield, attempting to disrupt the focus and commitment of all Mawites on the immediate battlefield, to try and artificially make them feel doubt and hesitance.

But The United had eyes only for Draco. But in seeing her in distress, the Light Adept within grew too emotional to be contained and her ability to be the heartless monster was disrupted, flesh and mind vanishing as the red headed, elderly Vivian re-emerged, seeing Draco atop the nuclear device.

"DRACO! GODS!" Vivian cried out, reaching her. She cut open her palm with a knife, which now leaked glowing green blood like The Predator and began putting it in a circle around her injured apprentice after the Model 3 units carefully lifting her away from the nuclear device.

"Don't die on me...please don't die on me..." Vivian whispered, chanting light sides spells to reverse the most serious, genuinely life threatening wounds. Her immense, Ancient will refusing to let Draco's spirit leave her body. It wouldn't fix all the damage, but it would be enough to get her functional. But there was no choice now. As soon as Draco was up, they had to get that Nuke to the Star Destroyer. She had left her flesh spawn Ryluss to handle the details of Shielding all House Members in the battlefield from the effects. But the Nuke had to reach the destroyer.

As Ted tried to keep Onas busy by shooting at her again, The Parliament was momentarily distracted, then delighted at the sound of her son Percival Io Percival Io .

"Percy! Ohhhhh, you look so adorable!" The Parliament gushed, love glittering beneath the madness in her sulphur eyes, bent on destroying The Maw no matter the reality.

She bade him come forward, the other Witches nearly done enchanting the Charges, weaving the reality tear energy into it.

"Ok...interest of disclosure, yes, I am your mother... technically. But I'm from another reality where I became a Brain Demon Cultist. And I'm enchanting these charges so they blow a hole in reality and unleash thousands of Avatars of the Brain Demon onto the battlefield, because that's the awesome thing to do to feth the Maw over, who I would see destroyed for killing you in my reality. So, we got a bit of a problem and I might need a teensy sample of your muscle tissue to fix it. Sound good? Any questions? Please ask questions...." The Parliament said, the muscle twitches in her face all but screaming how ecstatic she was to see him...
 
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SHATTERPOINT
IDENTITY CRISIS FINALE
Issue #4 w/ Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze Jem Fossk Jem Fossk Ryv Ryv Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis Rurik Fel Rurik Fel


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The Jedi watched on in disbelief. The Force, and the Force alone, had become her tool and shield to defend herseld from the blue slaber that slashed across her form. Beyond his own abilities, Corin failed to match her in that. But his brow came together as his eyes narrowed in shock, to see Jem lay there near defenseless for but a moment in his own hesitation. He wished to end it, remove her from all the worries she created, but could not. Corin stared, and stared as she rose and returned to her ritual.

He wished to intervene, yet was soon under attack from cultists.

Even as his blade clashed with their own, Corin looked to Jem. To defeat the last of them mere moments before she murdered her own murderous father. His earlier shocked features paled in comparison, as wide-eyed as ever, and a look that continued as Jem reached for a blaster to end her own life with.

Corin outstretched his arm, aimed towards Jem, and made an effort to seize the blaster beneath her chin in the Force. "No!" He yelled instinctively. His hand rotated around to face himself as it closed, as if to fling it towards himself. But in all the exhaustion, the sudden exertion, with the sweat that fell from his brow and stained his clothes as much as all the mud and blood, he wasn't so sure he could do it.

He wasn't so sure he could save her from herself.
 
"Rrrohw, gwaaahr."
There had been a small hope, however silly, that the three troopers would simply lay down arms when confronted by a determined defender. Unfortunately, it seemed that these commandos had earned their armor. The team scrambled on contact. One took to the air, headed for the ridge Gaaraddik had just come from. He chuffed in frustration; there was nothing he could do to help them. They had their duty, and he had his. He just hoped they'd been able to contact command in time. The remaining two had already breached the car. A few gestures and communications that the Jedi wasn't privileged to sent the slightly larger one heading in his direction while the other, apparently the commander of this particular unit, slipped inside. One-on-one made it easier, but now he was in a race against time before the man inside accomplished whatever it was he was in there to accomplish. The remaining Imp was uninterested in giving the wookiee a moment to ponder just what that could be and loosed a burst of blaster fire. Gaaraddik whirled his weapon around in front of himself, deflecting the three bolts away from his body.

No sooner had the threat of blaster fire been cleared than the trooper lobbed some variety of unpleasantness in the Jedi's direction. Unable to identify it, he reached out with the Force. With the constant hail of blaster bolts being unleashed in his direction, Gaaraddik had barely the time or focus enough to spare to alter the grenade's trajectory. Rather than negate the projectile's momentum he accelerated it on its arc, nudging just enough that it fell to the side of the train. Half measures beget halved results however and, though mostly shielded by the the wagon, the wookiee was somewhat disoriented by the detonation of the stun grenade still within its effective range. His opponent capitalized on the opportunity he had created for himself, closing with a blade of his own and targeting Gaaraddik's legs. The Jedi Knight's wits returned just in time for him to bring his lightsaber perpendicular to the top of the wagon, interposing it between his knee and the vibroblade. The armored hull gave out a horrible, squealing hiss as the blue energy blade was thrust downward into reinforced durasteel. He pulled the blade from the wagon, willing the Force into his legs as he leapt back several meters and prepared to counter-attack...

That was before the moon exploded.

Burning rocks pelted the area, kicking up plumes of dirt and rock wherever they impacted. As luck would have it, the train was currently going through a ravine and was therefore mostly sheltered from the barrage at the moment.

Mostly.

A rogue chunk of moon crashed into the edge of the gorge not too far ahead, scattering debris down toward the train as they sped forward. Debris that would bludgeon and shatter the two combatants below.

When later given time to examine his actions, Gaaraddik might have given himself some pause. It would have been nothing to leap back from the shower of stone, or even to throw himself overtop of it. His natural formidability, further augmented by the Force, would have easily allowed him to avoid the deluge of debris while leaving the commando to be crushed beneath it. In hindsight, it was the smart choice. In the moment...

The dual blades of the Jedi's weapon shrunk back into the hilt as he reached out with both hands, willing the Force to arrest the falling earth's momentum, holding it seemingly in stasis behind the trooper. Smaller, negligible shards of rock pelted the pair as the larger, more dangerous chunks rotated slowly as Gaaraddik began to move them off to the side of the track.

Engaging: Gavyn Berand Gavyn Berand Lily Stevens Hal Vaiken Hal Vaiken
 
AhKkZ0ptBTyC0yi8tL-HzMADOgPJAydNCtQmC29ct_EKVyruzJl0okM1YeATK0-on6r7Nzb5EhZoR01A7s0Wa0dN-aByH99G-5iDG8wu_MzalPkLNi_JAHMliKJAw8Bs2GRgK0sf


Objective: Aftermath
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 | Bex Tarring | Aerys Myrrine Jas Katis | Asanté Tsilor | Ollis Barran | Saul Tagge | Asmus Omaand | Alessandra Io Alessandra Io | Kal | Madison Starr | Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor | Rex Valhoun | Don Belkora Don Belkora | Rika Hiro Rika Hiro | Coren Starchaser | Thurion Heavenshield Thurion Heavenshield | Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka | Celeste Rigel | Tracyn Ordo | Osarla Ridor | Asmundr Varobalder | Wedge Draav | Barrien Siegfried | Henna Sarratt | Auteme | Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze | Maple Harte Maple Harte | Kirie | Rex Valhoun | Silas Westgard | Liram Angellus | Raina Demici | Vaux Gred Vaux Gred | Hilal Vizsla
Allies (BOTM/NSO/Independent): Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis | The Mongrel The Mongrel | Ziare Dyarron | Shai Krayt | Erion Justeene | Darth Saevius | Ronar | Thomas Barran Thomas Barran | Darth Libertas
Directly Engaging: Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor | Liram Angellus | Thurion Heavenshield Thurion Heavenshield | Romi Jade Romi Jade | Jace Khel | 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.


Fate?

War Posting Update
  • Caltin and Thurion are big gd heroes. They save Kaleth, themselves and earn many stories for Thurion's grandchildren.
  • The Amalgam cools the system from the lava to the pipes slowing the reactions down.
  • The lava flow may continue elsewhere but explosions are lessened, there may even be a small break in the thick black cloud.
  • The supervolcano and eruptions will continue potentially for many hours or days to come, at the mercy of those battling the natural forces above to do something about, before the sky across the entire battlescape turns black.
  • Last post for Scylla unless engaged directly, moving to Tythons Wound Tythons Wound for further combat posts.

Ever Directive Deployment Status:
Directive 18 Ceasing Operations. Directive 19 Seeded.
The aftermath.

Ongoing Scylla Operations:
  • Directive 18 has ended. If the planet survives. the Tython AI will proceed to directive 19
The Mongrel The Mongrel cleverly repositioned his men, DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran saw the ongoing corruption from the core of the planet, a Seismic quake shook Romi Jade Romi Jade along the flooded waters, Thomas Barran Thomas Barran was about to unleash his own monsters! Alessandra Io Alessandra Io found herself on a shrinking patch of land, Zachariel Steelblood Zachariel Steelblood aptly recalled Coruscant's woes. An act of revenge echoed from the days long remembered.

Across the battlescape. From Akar Kesh to Kaleth.
The end result or one Sith's arrogant demand for satisfaction of a debt now paid.

Thurion Heavenshield Thurion Heavenshield | Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor

Jedi had a connection to their world, that no synthetic simulation could ever match. Not even adequately mimic. Master Vanagor understood this, being alive as long as he had. The magma flowed upwards and then was fed, ate heartily of the rock, the earth the force shoved down its throat.

A controlled cave-in was EXACTLY what was needed along the tunnels, the Achilles heel of the great Kraken leviathan. These were just tunnels, and like any man(droid)-made creation, they could be filled. Pressure still probably moved part of magma somewhere but for all their efforts when it counted the most, it was nowhere near Kaleth. They had literally walked inches from hell and come out alive.

Thurion like a guardian angel had saved those below from being trapped, at just the right moment, and certain creative muses were glad they had both survived the boiling hells under the earth. Shield wall they had been! To Kaleth, the gathering troops above were spared from the worst of the volcanic flow. The ash still potentially rolled above them, maybe around them as they exited, fumes, but importantly lava didn't erupt beneath them or anywhere near Kaleth.

There might even be a patch of sky visible or a glimpse of hope from further east briefly because…

The Amalgam The Amalgam

A great effort was made to cool the lava flow by leaching heat, which was perhaps a very wise way of turning the lava solid more quickly and saving lives, it would assist in the blocking of channels as they formed. The rest of the lava bubbling up had to go somewhere but by potentially picking where Darth Phyre was cleverly saving many. The cooling of the machines below the earth was partially responsible for slowing the gas and water being fed into further eruptions, all in all, a perfect counter to what was being done. The force might tip its hat if it did such things.

Because for all the AI had done, this was a tunnel with pipes and some mechanical pressure. Nothing that couldn't be undone.

Her actions reduced the debris, the hellfire, and the ash rolling across the battlefield around the temple ruins. Perhaps even giving people a view of the sky again briefly, hope? With reality distorted from the ritual, the view of hope might not be much better! But that was for others to decide.

@All

For now, the supervolcano's cooling lava flowed where it could, ash continuing to rise where it was able. In time hours, days of course the water flows would solidify, and the gas to assist further eruption would run out, as all volcanos did. For now, Tython burned a beautiful shade of crimson and Centax was satisfied with the result, something not easily achieved amidst his endless exacting arrogance.

Ending it all, with all the darkside energy that had corrupted this place and ritual below ritual, only compounded the horror. The bunker doors opened and the corrupted spirit of Tythons Wound Tythons Wound walked out upon its own surface, one more monster as the mythical name scylla was designed to facilitate. The bunker would close in time, but there was easier access of attack to the AI should those above seize the opportunity.

If left unused the large blast door would close, and if left unhacked or found the relays would be dismantled in the coming hours. Certainly, there was plentiful time to capture the cultists responsible and a potential window into Scylla remained now and in the future. If given time the mainframe would bury itself indefinitely in the earth below. A mechanical hand ready to burrow again into Tythons heart for future fun, should the planet survive.

Fin For Scylla
OOC Note
Unless Engaged further, hacked or smacked down. Which I'll certainly respond to. Thanks for the fun ladies and gents, this was a blast!

Remaining 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: x2/3 Relay Towers Omega, Akar Kesh, Status: Online

NPCs and Equipment:
Relay Defenders. 10 with each relay, up to 30 at each site.
117/180 x One Sith Sithwatch Cultists
12/18 x Relay Towers
12/18 x Master Relay Terminals
12/18 x Directional Transceivers
12/18 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 and Tunnel Defenders
Metal Fortifications and power sources in Cavern. | Surface Entrance BLOWN-UP Water rushing down | Turadium blast doors around the metal mainframe and tunnels. Underground layers to the Main Hub expanding. | 30km Depth reached toward the Mantle goal. Gas and water pipes placed in tunnels.

3x T-Series Tactical Droid
65/100 x B1 Series Battle Droids
38/50 x B2 Super Battle Droids
7/10 x Scorpenek Droid
3/5 x Droideka Sharpshooter
5 x Drodieka Oppressors
3/5 x Yuuzhan Vong Cloaked Figures
x1 Force Presence revealed in the tunnel
Factories are under construction!

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.
0/8x A-11-Model 3 Tunnel Boring Vehicles tunneling with Droid and AI Crew.

Additional Airforce stolen, pilots ejected. Run by Scylla AI's.
3/5 x Modernized B-Wings
6/10 x Modernized Y-Wings
5/7 x Modernized A-Wings

Scylla AI Firewalls

Firewall One Online
Firewall Two Online
Firewall Three Online
 
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