Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Annihilation Shatterpoint | BotM Annihilation of GA Held Tython

11th post
OPERATION: SHATTERPOINT
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From the header to the template, it's all amazing work! Thank you very much, Nef! Scar Hounds are rollin' out in the DRIP now!
THE ANNIHILATION OF TYTHON

Objective 1: ATTACK EVERYTHING!!!!


Thomas Barran
"The Bloodhound"

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ANOINTED ACOLYTE OF THE SCAR HOUNDS

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

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


Loadout
Protection/Equipment
Beskar Brodie-Helm

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

Hipflask (Mineheel Moonshine)

Weaponry/Explosives

SA-35 Heavy Blaster Rifle

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

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

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

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


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NEXUS OF THE BLOOD-HOUND: SHRIVEN NO MORE - PART NINETEEN
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The Summit of Mt. Geran, Eastern Arros Range,
Northern Temple Valley, Tython (Late-Autumn of 876 ABY)


'War, death, rebirth.'

Though the one-eyed Woad couldn't hear what the Sith Pureblood was saying, those three words the former loved most would be seen spoken on the lips of the latter, with head shaking as he begrudgingly acknowledged the driving force that spurred the Bloodhound to throw caution to the wind in such a way. Even as his vambrace covered part of his mouth, Thomas had already seen enough of the the first two words spoken that the obscured lips did little to hide the fact they had spoken two more syllables after the second pause, along with the look of disappointment in Jas' otherwise glaring golden eyes.

The following look Thomas received whilst Jas called in the strike, as unaffected as the Pureblood had been by the one-eyed Woad's challenge, seemed to think it a waste at first glance; but in seeing Katis' eyes looking to the bodies, (and the soldiers who stayed behind to facilitate a timely retreat) Barran knew there was more going on there, something akin to the early makings of grief. Yet on the other side of the short distance between, a frightening contrast would be seen staring gleefully right back at the PMC Captain, like the whole experience of the fight for the mountaintop was healing the soul of the one-eyed Woad. Both would be wise enough to know differently, and while Thomas was all too willing to immerse himself in it's vicious glory, it was obvious to the Bloodhound that his opponent was quite happy watching it all unfold at arm's length.

'I hope we meet again, Mawite. But if we don't… it's nothing personal. It's just business.'

I wouldn't have it any other way.... Jas.

As the Imperials and Hellions made their tactical retreat, keeping their sixes covered throughout until they passed Barran's threshold, the skies began to light up with the real impending thrill; as Barran himself was in no mood for slaughtering lesser foemen, not when the true prize of growth against greater opposition was there, and such opposition would please the Bloodhound to state his intent to fight him again someday. What was to be a disengagement (for the most part) still was fated to take many living elements of both contingents with the impending barrage, as those of Mt. Geran's defenders who had stayed behind willingly would do so either knowing who they were protecting, or in the case of the farther-situated majority, not knowing that any such orders had been given in the first place. No doubt the final play of the Hellions' commander, as measured and sound as the reasoning was, would still affect a man of Katis' ilk, though Barran somehow knew his training would rail against it - creating a conflict in the mind of a Pureblood so potent he was verging on something even greater already.

'Ah, there you are.... AN' MORE WONDROUS THAN I EVER COULD'VE IMAGINED!!!!'

Emanating with wispy red wickedness from within, the already-stormy clouds above would offer the burning, searing beauty of foreboding power as the Hellions' gift for a brief farewell descended on the attackers, parting like trees to a strong hurricane's gust, vanishing behind the fire for the payloads that rained down all around the Scar Hounds. All rigged for the indiscriminate bombardment of the area, bathing Mt. Geran in hot, fiery light as the one-eyed Woad gambled his life on simple statement of intent. The requirements for the blood-rune sacrifice had already been met, the death quota had been achieved and utilised to ill-effect before Barran and Katis first closed the distance on no-man's-land, reason enough for the Bloodhound to call off the attack and return to Mt. Sintarin, but the one-eyed Woad (much like his mentor) was a firm believer if his own place in the cycle.

The Avatars had spoken to the Scar Hound Tribe, the visions and tri-lunar alignment display and the fact they held so viciously against the weight of the Empire had shown them the merit of their faith, giving all the more reason for the joyous outcry of the brethren who could see it for themselves. With outcries of,"War, Death, Rebirth!", ringing out across the mountainous ridgeline before their crescendos were consumed by those of the rushing, destructive waves of annihilation, the Avatars would have their choice of souls from the Maw's last dedicated offering of the battle, a filling banquet the Scar Hound's new Warlord was all to willing to provide. Such wanton death and suffering, inflicted by the erratic claims of a one-eyed madman, almost demanding bombardment and holding to it as the fire rained down on the blood-soaked ground around him, yet only Barran could've known that this was the only way to find himself as a warrior, a strategist, and most importantly - a leader.

The fear of death, pain, anguish and debilitation, all of it had to be cleansed from the Bloodhound's mind, heart and soul. Or at least, this is how Thomas viewed the matter, for it was as much a necessity for Barran as it was for Katis, with both opposing commanders nonverbally confirming that prolonging the fight for Mt. Geran would have eventually become worse than Pyrrhic for the victors as well. The official draw would stand until the next time they fought, and with neither Jas nor Thomas contending or protesting the result, Barran was free to test his faith against firepower without interruption.

However, the barrage eventually rolled to it's natural conclusion, and powerful though it was, the Bloodhound was still standing; still looking to the skies above for some more of the mercenary's gift, shrieking with the most hideous of mirthful outbursts in the realisation that the fight was over, Thomas then roared with renewed belief in the Three Avatars. He had offered up his soul for the ultimate sacrifice, cutting out his eye to paint the same blood rune as all the other Mawsworn warriors on the field that day, testing himself on the firepower of his enemies, yet it seemed the Dark Voice's greater plan for Barran was still being woven. Even then, as his one-eyed gaze scanned left to right to find survivors on either side of the struggle, Thomas knew that he had achieved all he could that day, all but one matter in particular though.

I can feel the presence o' your soul out there, friend.

Glad someone's still in fighting condition anyways.

And in his last scan of the horizon in front of him, this matter would finally show to meet it's conclusion in Barran's Ubese acquaintance, stepping forth from the billowing smoke of the nearest bombardment craters to give his answer. The Bloodhound could tell it was Lord Superious before the helmet and attire drew into the focus of the Woad's left eye, and Thomas was also able to deduce that the response to his offer was nigh at hand, seeing the confidence in the Darth's body-language as he exclaimed,'Good to see you again, Lord Superious! Glad you made it!', approaching at a leisurely stroll as he paused for effect. Opting to let the moment of significance transpire for a while longer at least. Erion had every reason to refuse of his own accord, being a Sith with power enough to lead armies of his own, and one of great skill and prowess in battle all on his own, but Thomas couldn't help but feel a little hopeful for an acceptance of initiation.

'Have you had enough time to think on your answer? If so, will you join us after all?'

They would search for survivors in the retreat together despite the answer, so there would be no hard feelings either way, especially not after sharing the field of battle with each other more than once, so the firm alliance between them would stand no matter what the young Darth decided in the end. Superious had seen the black eyes of Rebirth casting over Barran's own, seeing what the man had endured up until that point, seeing what the one-eyed Woad had become since, Justeene would still be invested in the Bloodhound's future either way.
 
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"Now, Heinrich, take them now," Cotan muttered under his breath, struggling to maintain the path through the eye of the storm for them. Urging them to make their way out, and quickly, lest something go wrong and the breach consume them all. Once he was sure of their safe departure, he let his shoulders sag, releasing his focus on the storm for a moment, the wall closing in again as Ryv and Solipsis flew at each other, raining savage blows back and forth.

Another iteration in the constant struggle of light and dark; it was reminiscent of Mortis, embodiments of the two extremes locked away within their own private facet of reality, with the third forced to look on as the battle progressed.

As Solipsis's weapon came up at Ryv, wreathed in lightning, Cotan closed his eyes with a single breath. The splintered, fractured, crystalline shards of reality hung in the air, each reflecting a myriad of possibilities back at those still locked within the center of the ritual. Each shard carried with it echoes of the death of a planet, the death of a galaxy, a future that had yet to come to pass. It had come perilously close, but with the ritual's control being broken, there was still a chance—however slim—to gather, contain, and dispel the storm. To return reality to its proper state.

Cotan dropped to his knees as he exhaled, palms flat against the broken ground. "Forgive me," he breathed out, to both the planet and those still in the meld with him all across the face of Tython. "This may prove overwhelming, but I need all the strength I can find for this."

For all but the maddest Je'daii, either extreme of the Force was a thing to be avoided, not embraced. Temperance was the eternal goal, to preserve both Tython and the self.

But, with great need—and, perhaps, a little insanity—the power at either end of the scale could be tapped into. With Ryv and Solipsis focused on each other, the ritual was threatening to spiral out of control, thanks to the amount of power that had been funneled into it, was still pouring into it with every soul that did manage to sacrifice itself to the mad lord's designs. Great darkness lie heavy over the peak of Akar Kesh in the wake of the battle below, and Tython's fury raged against the wounds it and its child had suffered.

But the right yet rose to meet it, freshly empowered, and channeled by the Jedi all across the surface of the planet who refused to simply bow down and accept oblivion no matter how desparate the situation seemed. Defiant to the end.

Looks like you were right about that, Rurik.

Cotan reached into the heart of Tython, pulled from the heart of the meld, and grasped out at the swirling mass of pure power before him. The shock of it reverberated through him instantly, his skin going cold, his stomach churning in a way it hadn't since he'd first tasted lightning at Carnifex's hands, but the rest gave him the strength to stay upright, to start standing back up. The feeling of it would spread through the meld from him; cold, angry, writhing within his soul.

As he stepped forwards, the reflections seemed to shift around him. The cracked and battered stone of Akar Kesh as it had been mere minutes before appeared below his feet, and the blurring dreamscape at the wall of the storm started to reflect the roiling clouds and blazing lightning that Tython had known for millennia. The battered Tho Yor above started to shift, vibrating in the air as a new will called out to them, seeking to wrest them from the darkness that tried to consume them.

"Ryv—"

Something was impossible.

Cotan opened his eyes to see a tear pierce through to some other place, beyond where his attempt to reinforce reality had yet reached. Ryv mouthed something at him, might even have yelled it for all he could hear through the storm in his ears, before jumping through the tear behind Solipsis. "Ryv!"

He tried to rush forwards, to try and leap after the younger man, but every step was labored, heavy; where before he'd felt like he was trying to heft the weight of a moon, now it truly felt like he was trying to heave the entire mass of Tython itself around. He dropped again where Ryv had passed through, the shifting reflections showing the empty basin of Akar Kesh below him, just beyond a pane of glass. "Auteme," he growled, digging his fingers into the unreal ground below him.

"Auteme, Asmundr, Henna, this is our chance! Reach out to the Tho Yor, pull them back to where they belong, and we can start to fix this." His hands spasmed in the crystal reflection, against what felt like a constant surge of electricity through his body, keeping him from even managing to stand back up as he wrestled with the power he was trying to command. His mouth was dry, a leaden tongue trying to speak between clenched jaws; he couldn't even hear himself for the roaring in his ears, the, the—

The screaming. But he would not let each of Solipsis's sacrifices be done in vein; if they wished to surrender their power, then it would be used to save Tython, not destroy it. He just had to hold control over it for a few moments longer, long enough for Ryv to take out Solipsis, and then he could start to release it. If he let go now, and Solipsis was struck down with no hand to hold the ritual's strength in check...

Despite himself, he grinned.
Can't be too hard, can it? Just gotta hope the others get the Tho Yor away, so that they stop magnifying this mess before I explode. And then...Journey's End, was it, Ryv? I'll meet you there, one way or another.
 
Major Faction

Ryv

Become One With All Things
"The final bastion," Ryv said aloud, his gaze drawn everywhere but the Sith Lord before him. While reality shattered elsewhere on Tython, the light provided ample protection against the dark side's greatest dangers. The tree's broad canopy swayed overhead, its large shadow a blanket over verdant grass and multicolored flowers. The islands still floated peacefully through the sky.

His attention soon settled on Solipsis. Ryv watched the old Sith fall into form, one hand gripping tight to a worn saber, the other held forward, clutching even tighter to the metaphysical powers at work.

"He watches us, you know," Ryv pointed the tip of his weapon to a stationary island. Atop it, the silhouette of a man stood impassive, his gaze locked on the two. "At least, a part of him does," he lowered his blade out to the side, parallel to the ground. "The part of him that remained after his fall."

The kiffar narrowed his eyes. He met the Dark Lord's hate-filled glare with one of absolute serenity. He took a deep breath in preparation for what was to come. Some part of him knew speaking to Solipsis was pointless then, as the Sith abandoned what remained of his humanity long before the two ever crossed paths. This encounter could only end with the Sith'ari's complete annihilation.

Ryv's body blurred as Solipsis charged forward. The two moved faster than either could follow with their mundane senses. It all came down to a sixth sense honed over their lives. A feeling for the unseen, something otherworldly, granted to them by forces far beyond their reach.

The Sith'ari's crimson saber flashed forward. Ryv mirrored his strike, only he aimed higher, striking out for the head of the snake in one fell swoop.

 

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DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
A Journey’s End, Tython
Ryv Ryv


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It was true the Dark Lord did not speak, it was pointless to try to conversate with such unyielding hatred. He had been the sole catalyst for so much death, so much darkness that infested the galaxy. Whatever humanity he possessed had long since been consumed by the entity he was now, this Dark Lord, this Sith’ari.

The wind flowed along the empyrean wake left behind by the two combatants as they blurred into motion, faster than the eye could see. They truly needed no words, no emotion to understand each other. Their blades, their battle had said far more than their speech ever could. The two warriors embodied each aspect of the Force and the war boiling over the surface of Tython.

Truly it had been.. a Duel of Fates.

Silence came as the two emerged from motion, wind ruffling leaves from the nearby woodlands as everything else around them came to a still.

The Dark Lord of the Sith held firm his vibrant weapon, humming with resolve as it hissed in victory through the flesh of the Sword of the Jedi. It’s crimson edge poking through the other side of his body. A final smile filled with dark grimace spread from ear to ear, eyes glowing like lanterns as they radiated malice with one last gaze.

The two stood face to face with another, their strikes mirrored up until the last second. Where the Sith’ari had switched to a lunge the Sword swung in a high arc where his blade rested high into the air. Blood dripping off it’s sharpened edge.

Quiet permeated the air. Total silence.

And in that moment, the Dark Voice’s head rolled from his shoulders, his body collapsing into the sandy shores. His dark armor clanked against the earth as his body crumbled slowly into Dark Side energy. The saber that he held within the palm of his hand softly slid out of his fingertips into the soft sand below. His flesh peeled away, replaced by a crimson miasma as his physical properties dissipated.

The darkness choking Ryv’s surroundings eased up, no doubt with the passing of Solipsis as he was dragged down by the Jedi long passed to whatever hell awaited him.

Darth Solipsis, Dark Lord of the Sith, Voice of the Maw and foretold Sith’ari of ancient prophecy, was dead.

Chaos awaited him.


Rurik had been avenged.



 
Tags: Aculia Voland Aculia Voland
Location: moving between ships of the MAW and GA

It was so silent there and yet out the view she could see fighters they looked like she couldn't really make the markings out, but they were coming dangerously close to the evac pods.

That explained the vibrations the exhaust from the ships disturbed the space creating vibrations which once they hit on the hull of the pod moved the pod. She could maneuver but instead of the straight line she had envisioned she was now using what little fuel she had up to get out of the way or make corrections.

What happened if she used all the energy stored to get to the surface? Would they survive the atmosphere? Kark would they stop on the surface or make a bit splat!

She felt it then that bit of panic rising up as she did not know now what to do or expect.


FETH!
 


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Enemies: Iris Arani Iris Arani
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"You're crazy, you know that?"

Thalia clasped the young Jedi's arm and hauled herself to her feet, but as the Dark Lord perished his hold on her fully vanished. Her tattoos began to hiss again, burning white-hot. She could hear screaming but she couldn't tell if it was her own or that of the twisted black creature before them, its face so twisted in pain and terror that she wondered if part of her had truly been that afraid. The tattoos dispersed from her skin, evaporating into so much white ash. Again Thalia was engulfed in darkness, consciousness leaving her. She crumpled back to the ground, her grip on the two lightsabers melting away and the blades rushing back into their hilts.


 

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"Yeah, I know."

She offered a smile, though what came next was just.. Iris wasn't sure what happened. Something did. Pain ripped through the colors around Thalia, around the shade. And.. The shade disappeared. Yeah, this was beyond the Padawan and her understand of the Force through the colors. What she did understand was Thalia was out cold. She hoisted the fallen Padawan up onto her shoulder as much as she could, gathered the lightsabers, and started heading off for an escape.

Whatever was happening, Iris had done what she'd come here to do.

Thalia Senn Thalia Senn
 
Major Faction

Ryv

Become One With All Things
Ryv's world became a vision of white-hot pain as Solipsis' blade plunged deep into his chest and out the other side. It was difficult for the Jedi to make out the gory details at that moment. Plasma ripped through his chest; that much was certain. Half of one lung simply ceased to exist as the lightsaber sheared through it like paper, taking part of his heart with it. Somehow, he remained on his feet, held aloft by an incorruptible will. He stared Solipsis down, even as the Sith's head tumbled to the sands and rolled half a dozen feet away from them.

Blood stained Ryv's stoic features. Crimson rolled down his cheek, dripping in tiny rivulets to stain the yellow sands at the kiffar's feet. He flicked the weapon out to his side, sending another wave of scarlet ichor into the earth before he sheathed the blade at his hip.

"And so, the battle ends," Ryv declared to no one in particular. He watched Solipsis' body disappear into the force, a murky black mist that so plainly reflected the tainted soul that resided within the ruined husk of a man. When the last of Kaigan Fossk disappeared from the realm, Ryv half turned, half stumbled away from their battleground. His hand fell away from his ruined chest to lift the scarred saber from the red sands below.

He ambled towards the great tree, specifically the opening that led deeper into the nexus. He passed through the threshold slowly, forcing one foot in front of the other even as he felt what remained of his strength draining away. If ever there was a place to die, it was down in the depths of the nexus.

The tunnel carried him deeper beneath the island. Little branches poked out of thick bushes that draped the cave walls. Tiny flowers bloomed by the hundreds, each one home to insects no larger than a pebble. Lizards scurried out of his path while rodents familiar with the Jedi Master followed in his wake. This cave welcomed him now, in his final moments, as it did so long ago when he returned to the path of a Jedi Knight.

Rounding the corner, Ryv was greeted by gleaming kyber crystals bright with the power of the light. Massive roots poked out of the earthen ceiling and plunged deeper into Tython below. Prey and predator alike found solace in the garden, protected from the worst of the storm that ravaged the planet above. Even though these beasts could not begin to fathom the danger that awaited them if the Brotherhood won the day, they found peace in the secluded grove once cultivated by the Sword of the Jedi.

He stood for a moment as life thrummed all around him, basking in energy absent from Denon. The cold concrete streets could never hope to match what thrived on planets like Tython. He ran a hand over a snow-white rose, leaving behind a crimson streak.

"
Oh, Kyric," Ryv collapsed to his knees as what strength remained in his legs faded into obscurity. "I'm sorry I could never bring you here," he slumped forward. "You should see the garden in the spring, my son... The flowers- their bloom is... it's something else."

He struggled to breathe. Unfortunately, one and a half lungs weren't cutting it. His vision blurred. Color faded to gray as blackness slowly enveloped the world before him. With nothing tangible to latch onto, the kiffar's mind drifted elsewhere. To memories, to battles fought, enemies cut down, and friends and family who he couldn't hope to forget. His children, so far from him, yet near and dear to his ruined heart. Ripley, a dear friend, a lover, and the ill-prepared mother to them. To Maynard and Loske, his kin, a bond found in peace, and strengthened in the fires of war.

Cotan, a hero who inspired him. Bernard and Aaron, students much like him who fought to find their way in the galaxy. His Order, the New Jedi. His allies, the New Empire. His Legacy, the Hope be carried upon his shoulders for far too many years, passed on to his greatest student, Dagon.

Yet, one face never quite left his mind's eye.

The one who got away. His closest friend, his oldest ally, and a woman he loved more than any other in the galaxy.

Ryv's lips trembled as tears rolled down his cheeks, mixing with the Sith'ari's blood.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I don't think I'm going to make it to Epoch."

And with that, the Sword of the Jedi breathed his last. His body fell still, surrounded on all sides by something beautiful, something carved out of a world he could only hope will survive the battle and continue on, a beacon to the Jedi.
 
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Revenant Squadron: Lead - Tren Chaar Tren Chaar | Three - Ran Serys | Five - Kaul "Joker" Emos | Six - Mylo Thorne | Seven - Leon Gallo | Nine - Artemis Toth | Ten - Qellene Tyliame | Twelve - Tristram Vos


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"Keep your head in the game, Garallia!"

"Yes ma'am. It'll be taken care of shortly." Whether that meant he'd shake the missile on his tail, or he'd be blown to pieces by it, the young Alliance pilot did not specify. "R3, try to get the deactivators going, now!"

Zev swung away from his current heading in a sharp evasive turn. The missile continued to track him, but he seemed to have caught the TIE pilot tailing him off-guard, causing the Maw ship to overshoot his trajectory. He banked sharply back in the other direction, bringing his cannons to bear on the Mawite fighter; a burst of red plasma tore through the center of the TIE, blasting it apart as the Alliance A-wing whipped past at high speed. His astromech droid whistled at him, indicating that the electronic countermeasures were ready. "Do it now, I'm gonna throw out a little extra just in case." Zev pulled a lever in his cockpit, spraying chaff in his wake while his droid activated the ship's missile deactivation transmitter. He did not know that the deactivator would work completely, but he hoped that the combination of countermeasures would be enough to throw off the missiles targeting systems and divert it entirely.

Indeed, it seemed to do the trick. The massive explosion of the TIE's tracking missile exploded some distance behind Zev's ship. Shockwaves rippled through space and washed over his fighter, rattling every last part of it as it passed. There were a few inconsequential warnings on his screens now, but nothing urgent anymore; the warning lights had finally stopped. Zev was safe, at least for now.

He continued on a wide, arcing trajectory, bringing him back into line with the rest of Revenant as they closed in on the Maw. He opened fire on another TIE as he moved forward, spinning away from the flaming debris that it left behind. It occurred to him that he was now an ace, but that was only natural for a man of his caliber, natural talent, and good looks. Besides, this wasn't the time to celebrate.

Zev pulled his craft around, following the rest of Revenant as they began their attack run on the Eradicator. He throttled up, his craft screaming through space, bobbing and weaving in the void as it hurtled forward. The Mawite ship loomed ever larger in his viewport, blaster fire exploding from its guns and streaking across its surface. His hands darted out to switches on his console, diverting his shields forward as his attack run began. He pulled up, leveling the craft and beginning his run parallel to its surface, jinking constantly to evade the Eradicator's turbolasers and other point-defense systems. Despite his fancy flying and evasive maneuvering, his ship was being constantly grazed by enemy fire impacting upon his shields. The percentages on his HUD were still high enough, but sure enough they were going down. He had to be quick about this. "R3-4, targeting computer active. Prepare to launch torpedoes one through four." The droid beeped in affirmation. Indicators lit up on his HUD, showing the weapons were ready.

Zev squeezed the trigger on his flight stick. Four proton torpedoes arced from his fighter at the Eradicator.

"Torpedoes away, Lead."

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

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  • Mercy still does not feel Kallan.
  • Mercy awakes in reality.
  • She starts to feel survivor's guilt.
  • Because she thinks she left alone, she tries to commit suicide.
Mercy #1
Mongrel #1
Barran #1
Mercy #2
Mongrel #2
Mercy #3
Barran #2
Mongrel #3
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Barran #3
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Mercy #5
Barran #4
Mongrel #5
Mercy #6
Barran #5
Mongrel #6
Mercy #7
Barran #6
Manifold #1
Mongrel #7
Mercy #8
Barran #7
Mongrel #8
Manifold #2
Mercy #9
Barran #8
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Mercy #12
Eina #1
Barran #9
Mongrel #12
Mercy #13
Eina #2

I shouted Kallan's name over and over again. I wasn’t able to move “physically” and leave our home that I shared with Asher, which we built together. But it was still my mind, I was able to extend my consciousness to every part. But nothing; I was still alone. There was a growing panic that overwhelmed me. The red light, which was MANIAC's medical report, was now flashing in my mind. That wretched AI had no idea what I was feeling.

I shivered, sobbed, screaming Kallan's name over and over again. The wound in my chest, my soul was still bleeding and I could only feel emptiness, pain, torment. Emptiness in my soul, the cold and bleak winter took the place of the previous summer. I wanted to feel his mind, his touch, his scent. To see him, to hear his voice, his laugh, to see his smile. Asher! I drowned, nothing made sense anymore. Why? Why wasn't I able to die with him? I felt some warmth out there and then an unpleasant thing…

My eyes suddenly opened in reality. I was cold, the snow was still falling, and I was lying in my own blood, still embracing the severed skull. For a moment I was hoping it was just a bad dream and I was just dreaming this, and he was alive and I would wake up in his arms. But no, that was the reality. In reality, I screamed as I sobbed and trembled. I failed and I still didn't get an answer. He died too. Both of them. I was unable to save either Asher or Kallan.

I couldn't sit up, my hand barely moved. There was no reason to stay. It did not make any sense. My hand moved with great difficulty, I reached for my belt and took off my knife. Leaning on Asher's armour, I sat up, still embracing the skull with my other hand. My soul was just like this place, snowy, bleak, and desolation. It is no longer the beautiful place where we walked hand in hand not so long ago. I looked at the place where we last kissed each other…

Where I realised, he'd come here to die and yet he wanted to live before the fatal injury, he wanted to be with me, he wanted to leave with me. Who and why was so cruel to us? Why didn't we deserve more? And why wasn't I stronger, more powerful? Why couldn't I save him? Pain and grief mingled with a strong sense of guilt I had never felt. Why did I survive and not him? I didn't want this anymore, without him, without them.

I looked at the dagger, it would be the best. There is no one I would miss anyway, me or him. We were just to each other…

"I'm sorry, I failed you, again. I couldn't save you when that would have been the most important thing... but I'm coming and joining you, my love!" I whispered hoarsely. "We'll be together again!"

No matter how weak I was as soon as I raised my dagger, my hand didn’t tremble. I drew to the point where there was a tiny scar, the place that the Eternal Imperial Agent started to cut my throat on Dromund Kaas. Where Asher saved my life for the first time. We will be together, I was not afraid, I just wanted to see, be with him. To tell you how sorry I wasn’t able to save you. And that I belong to him, everywhere and always.

The cold steel reached my neck and cut into my skin…

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//: Darth Mori //:




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It was all or nothing. That was the bottom line for everything Allyson Locke did. All or nothing, do or don't clutch or kick - there was never a middle ground. To the Corellian, a middle ground only meant half trying and when you do that - why do anything at all. For as long as Allyson could remember, the cards were always stacked against her.

All or nothing.

It was starting to become harder to hold on. The blade of the weapon continued to slice into her hands, but Allyson held on. Electricity cycled through her and her opponent, a loop that only ended if one of them died. Allyson watched and listened knowing that she was at her limit, there was nothing left for her to give. Seeing Mori, almost unaffected by her efforts - Allyson was almost heartbroken. Everything she did, meant nothing to the Sith, all the efforts only brought her closer to death.

A flash of red and Allyson watched the lightsaber swing aimed towards the hand that created the link between them. Defiant till the end, Allyson focused the Force and absorbed the blow of the ion edge. Her skin grew hot at the place the lightsaber met flesh but didn't cut. Allyson held on, gritting her teeth as the energy she was absorbing was too much and she was at her limit.

There was one last burst of lightning and the Corellian screamed in agony as the last bit of the energy she absorbed blasted through their linked connection. She let go, pulling back as fast as she could, but the lightsaber claimed its prize.

With nothing left, Allyson clutched her arm tightly and everything went black.
 


NOTHING STAYS THE SAME
CONCORD DAWN | HARLAN | TREICOLT HOMESTEAD
TIME’S GREATEST CRUELTY

AND GREATEST BLESSING
IS THAT NOTHING STAYS THE SAME
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It had always been coming.

Death had to come for everyone, eventually. None of them could be the exception.

Least of all Ryv Ryv .

But she’d always thought, somehow, they’d be together when it happened. As they’d been through the prime of their lives.

How many times had she and Maynard spent trying to buy him a little more time? A few more hours, a few more days, a few more years?

It had been impossible to argue with him, his selflessness, his logic. Blow for blow, he’d met them with infallible vision and purpose:



I'm trying to set an example for people, be a good Jedi, make the difference no one else can make.


Now fulfilled.

"He did it." The words sailed out in a whispered, breathless rush.

The trio had chosen different paths and set separate priorities through the years. Stacks of consequences meant that when death finally came, it was like a breath stuck at the base of her throat. A cold trill that bloomed behind her ribs and spread in a white flash through her body.
Stillness overcame her, and the would-be Kiffar's expression became distant, vacant. Numbness started in her fingertips, and the loss of feeling travelled through to her spine so she wilted, enervated. Love's loss sapped her animation and left only the feeling of helpless despair.

It was as painful as it was sad, but yet..somehow..

…hopeful?

Maynard appeared in the doorway, his face heavy with emotion. He held her gaze, hazel on white. Neither spoke beyond that look. Words were superfluous as the air breathed between them.

“Mom?”

A tremble rolled through her, and she refocused on what had her attention before she’d felt the inevitable creep through her skin. A little round face with big hazel eyes.

“Sweetie, sorry,” Loske exhaled and scooched lower against the pillow to welcome the little body next to her to settle more comfortably again. The bed creaked when Maynard took his seat on the opposite side. Their hands met around tiny shoulders, wrapping their child up between them.

For such a soft face, the little manifestation of a Triocolt had a hardened, expectant expression.

Belatedly, Loske realized how long silence had stretched between them.

“Right, your story....tonight..uh..” She smoothed her hands through tiny blonde ringlets, twirling the ends and slowly gaining feeling back in her fingers. Sadness threatened to consume her, to take her over completely.

“Memories first.” Maynard offered knowingly and reached across tiny knees to close the book Loske had open on her lap. Some throwaway tale of a rebel princess and a dashing scoundrel.

Slowly, understandingly, Loske nodded. She sniffed, drew in a shaky breath, held it, and let it out.

“Let me tell you about the little Kiffar who could.”

That face full of expectation turned bright and happy, and the littlest Treicolt nodded with satisfaction as their mother began the story on Coruscant, where a dark-haired boy with a white streak and amber eyes travelled the streets getting into all sorts of trouble.





 
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While Rebecca Hahn and Esmeralda Io Esmeralda Io had made it to the Reactor itself, and Draco Miles Draco Miles having tossed a fething nuke into Nutrient Storage and rescued both Kevin and the remaining Nuetralizers in that section via cutting a very dubious deal with the Brain Demon, who demanded a price likely to rear it's head at the worst possible time when she came to collect, the Team that had been assigned to the Path Engine had suffered heavy casualties, because if the Avatar couldn't escape because the Path Engine had been destroyed, then it really didn't matter if they destroyed Tython if they themselves were not able to escape right after.

The remaining members of the path Engine assault team, Ben The Black Knight, and two of the Advanced Model 1 units, had slaughtered their way to the path Engine, both advanced Model 1 units were missing chunks of themselves but were slowly repairing. They had gathered up every last remaining thermal detonator and heavy Weapon they could scavenge as they had arrived in the Path Engine section, killing all Engineering staff.

Willing to absolutely go the distance, the two Advanced Model 1's flowed into the computers controlling power distribution, intent on physically dissolving or controlling all the connections to the path engine redirecting certain signals to try and cause an overload in the Path Engine itself. If the nukes failed, if everyone else failed, then hopefully they could still overload the Path Engine, cause a detonation, and prevent the Avatar from escaping the consequences of its own terrible Nature...

As for the two House Io Warriors at the Reactor The Brain Demon smelled temptation, as was it's Nature. Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis tearing open so many cracks in the very fabric of reality had allowed the Abomination to fuel the strength of its magic in ways that would normally not have been possible, case in point, the very Ritual that had flabbergasted Tu'teggacha Tu'teggacha . At best, they could have pulled it off with maybe one ship, and in a very small area around it. But reality had come so unglued that once the rituals were enacted on various ships, The Abomination had been able to create more and wider folds in space and in multiple amounts.

So it was that a black, liquid like portal that rippled opened up close next to Rebecca and Esmeralda, the Abomination's emaciated, Thanos-shaded arm reaching out and beckoning the two with the hope of survival...for a price.

An arbitrary price. It could be a coin. A request to murder someone. To do a freaking jig. To offer up your soul. Or cover your body in grease and run around naked in public. You never knew what the Brain Demon would ask for in exchange for taking you where you absolutely wanted to be. Or needed to be.

So it could be said that in a way, Xiphos kind of lucked out when a reality tear opened beneath her, Adam and Burt, Maple, and The Amalgam and all their Nuetralizers, causing them to fall through...

...and right onto the bridge of the Leviathan of Danuta, having sustained an absolutely brutal pounding that had taken out most of its weapons as it continued to back away from the confirmed as doomed Fatalis. At the very least, the Ebruchi had rolled a fething 007. Not only had the Taskmaster (The Narrator went into violent convulsions upon realizing Tu'teggacha's name was the same as that of a Marvel Villain) escaped the Fatalis with his life, he wouldn't have to answer to Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis , who had finally had his HP reduced to zero after the combined might of no less than three Player Characters had bashed his Plot Armor to pieces.

"What?!" Xiphos cried out in shock. "No! NO! NO NO NO!"

The Amalgam burst out in laughter at the perverse metaphysical comedy of the moment. Maple was quiet, but accepting.

Xiphos was on the verge of a break down as the tear above her started to close, her armor no longer working. In a rage, she telekinetically tore it off in front of a surprised Hadrian, the frustration and Trauma of the past few hours, feeling so many of her citizens and children die for the desperate hope of thwarting the Maw boiling over. She found the Nuetralizer she had brought with her that still had his Nuke, and she teleported it off him, then focused, harder than she ever had when it came to a teleport.

Her brain felt like it was on fire. Her muscles seized up everywhere as she focused, the strain nearly unbearable. She started to cough blood as the reality tear above her closed.

Her pain at the loss of so many of her children was like knife in her gut that just kept twisting, and this latest cruel twist carried with it a fair ounce of despair. It was all fuel to her, along with the desperate, desperate need to redeem herself for failing Csilla, for failing Sarka, for not being able to save enough Chiss at Oyokai, for failing at Nar Kreeta. For so many tiny failures she experienced daily at being a leader. For her inability to see all the problems of the Galaxy as anything but nails that just needed a big enough hammer to whack them with.

The pain, the frustration and disillusionment with the Jedi Order's approach. All that fueled her as with a shout that momentarily deafened and reverberated through the ship, she teleported her nuke right next to where she sensed Rebecca Hahn through the reality tear just as it finished closing.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I don't know how to rescue either of you... Xiphos called out to Rebecca and Esmeralda as she began to lose consciousness, the strain on her body having dealt numerous internal injuries. She needed immediate medical attention as she collapsed, suffering severe seizures.

Please! Do everything you can! Be what I can't be! Please forgive me... please...

Xiphos lost consciousness.

The Amalgam had been too stunned by Xiphos's display, and for the first real time, The barely alive , semi-false fragments of Leejun Forrwiirmeni, ultimately still puppeted by the Darth Phyre underneath, both obsessed with Xiphos and Maple to the point of ruin, felt a rare moment of vulnerability.

"JULIA! JULIA!" The Amalgam screamed in an unfamiliar emotional pain, which shocked and horrified Maple as she knew it was an unforced moment on Amy's part as she rushed to an unconscious and rapidly worsening Xiphos, completely forgetting the image she tried to project to herself and others as a sadistic, carefree Troll as she picked up Xiphos, The Leviathan of Danuta and the other Battle Cruisers still backing away from a Fatalis now breaking apart. Even if they failed to destroy the Avatar, House Io had nonetheless managed to play a massive part in sounding the death knell for at least one symbol of Maw Power. Something not easily replaced. The Battle Group and all House Io bombers that had survived trying to escape what their sensors detected as an inevitable detonation. Everyone was trying to get as far from the lethal blast radius as possible. Maple watched the display numbly, the bridge smoking, little fires being put out on the consoles.

The ritual that folded space at last cut, but whatever remaining projectiles were left firing missed, the guns at last losing power as it's reactors exploded.

"All hands brace for impact!" Hadrian the Golden Nuetralizer shouted.

The shockwave was powerful, even at this distance. They lost one more Battle Cruiser, this one not even able to evacuate more than a few hundred due to the fact it would just have too many escape pods in the Blast Radius. Another Star Destroyer was also lost in the blast. The Leviathan was shook on every level, at last losing its main Weapons as it limped away to escape the gravity wells

Battle Group A was in full retreat.

Maple shook herself from her numbness and turned to Hadrian.

"Order evac of all remaining Ground Forces..." Maple said quietly.

Hadrian agreed. He sent the transmission out, a series of 7 beeps to a badly damaged but still fighting Blood of Lao-Mon on Tython's surface.

The General Evac Order was issued by its A.I, and it began firing it's remaining Starfighter Lasers at crowds of Mawites to cover the retreat of its ground invasion force as they started a fighting, surprisingly orderly retreat.

Lynda, The Demon of Jedha, was in tatters as she was dragged from battle, most of her skin gone, jaw and half her head missing, like her legs. One Nuetralizer held her Alchemized Gauntlets as she was carried away to a fast approaching combat shuttle, a completely bloody mess.

If Asher/The Mongrel/Kallan really was no more than it was, in some small sense, a mercy.

Lynda would have to be utterly destroyed to reduce any chance of resurrection to nothing.

And as long as she lived...her suffering and trauma would never abate, because due to perfect memory, it always felt like it happened minutes prior...

In some ways The Mongrel had been right about her existence as he had mused at Epoch...it was hell.

Vivian watched sadly as the alternate Xiphos burned up in her arms and soon only ash remained, swept out of her arms and into the chaos of Tython's winds, it's doom that might yet be averted even now under attack.

The cracks in reality that The Parliament had torn open, through which lay the shadowy realm of the Brain Demon did not give up it's pursuit of the Warriors of Zachariel Steelblood Zachariel Steelblood , the tentacles extended, outward, sweeping life draining tendrils at the largest crowds, avatars of its strange form rushing across the battle and descending from other small tears above them, or erupting from tears below them in pursuit.

But a real prize beckoned to the Brain Demon as the forces of House Io used to cover they provided to flee the planet in assault and evac shuttles, tanks and mortars abandoned where they lay, Organic Citizens hauling damaged inert Nuetralizers away as though they were blood relatives, for House Io is a family, first and foremost, and the Droids took just as much risk to save wounded Organics.

The prize in question was the Eldritch Energy of The Manifold The Manifold .

A black portal open a few dozen meters away, to test the strength of the supposed Droid Angel.

Thick, tar like black tentacles snaked out of it all snaky and $#@+, and the cruel hiss of the Demon on the other end would reach his Droid senses.

BOW TO ME, ANGEL OF OMNI, I COME FOR YOUR SOULS!

("Mortal Kombat" Theme Plays)

Meanwhile...

As Xiphos fought for her life on a medical table, she unconsciously, distantly sensed the death of Ryv Ryv , a man she hated more than mere words could express.

He got the peaceful death. After all the death, all the destruction he was responsible for, leaving the Galactic South East to the fury of the Bryn'adul, he got the peaceful death.

It wasn't fair. She was a pariah, for refusing to see things from his insane black and white viewpoint. She had sacrificed everything of her old life to do what was right, smashing and demolishing her entire meager reputation as a Jedi Shadow, giving up a happy, quiet life of rabbits and sisters, to build up a Force strong enough to oppose the Bryn'adul and to keep them from overrunning Sith Space. He had supported Dictators and tyrants like Rurik Fel Rurik Fel ...he had even died wearing the mad Tyrant's cape! And then he had fled to a bar on Denon rather than see the real results of his handiwork, only showing up at the grand finale to kill a man doomed to failure and death by The Dark Side anyway.

He was getting the peaceful death. He would get praised as a hero.

While all her citizens, her children, who had given their lives to try and destroy the Avatar...

...were to be spat upon and mocked. By everyone.

Even as she fought for her life, a burst of anger raged out of her as the doctors and the Magic of a frantic Amalgam sought to keep her alive. But she would live. She had to live. She wouldn't give herself a choice but to live.

So... she hissed into the afterlife, hoping the selfish bastard would hear her.

You get the peaceful death...after all the misery. All the 'suffering' you enabled she growled into the depths of the afterlife hating him even worse than she hated Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser .

Fine...crawl to your afterlife. Crawl in it and HIDE, you bastard. Hide from ME. You had better hope I don't die, because if I do, I'm gonna come lookin' for you. And I won't care if an army of every Jedi that has ever lived stands between me and you. I won't care if Ashla herself stands in the way, I WILL REACH YOU AND DRAG YOU KICKING AND SCREAMING INTO THE HELL YOU BELONG IN FOR WHAT YOU ENABLED THE BRYN'ADUL TO ACCOMPLISH. WHEN I AM DEAD, I WILL NEVER STOP HUNTING YOU. EVEN IF MY VERY SOUL IS BLASTED TO OBLIVION A TRILLION TIMES I WILL COME BACK AS PISSED OFF AS BEFORE UNTIL I DRAG YOU TO HELL AND KEEP YOU THERE. Tell all your friends. Tell them all, she shouted into the Force's depths, her blasphemy against Ashla herself carrying a special venom all it's own.

I'm going to make war on the Jedi. I will make them as miserable as the Bryn'adul made their victims. I will bring fire to the Order for what it allowed. Conquering the Galaxy is for suckers. Punishing the Jedi Order is too important. You can suffer from where you are, and watch as I inflict torment after torment. Death after death upon the Order, you loathsome, hypocritical WORM! she screamed in her heart, not knowing if Ryv's spirit could hear it but hoping he could.

THE JEDI WILL NEVER ESCAPE THE CONSEQUENCES OF THEIR SELFISHNESS AS LONG AS I ENDURE. I DON'T 'CARE' IF THE WHOLE GALAXY FORGETS ME AND HOUSE IO, THEY WILL 'NOT' FORGET WHAT I SHALL DO TO BRING JUSTICE FOR EVERYONE YOU ALLOWED THE BRYN'ADUL TO MURDER. BURN IN HELL, RYV KARIS. BURN. IN. HELL. You do not deserve Ashla's mercy, or her benevolence. she shrieked, beside herself with fury that he would be praised as a hero, despite all the trillions that had died for his feud with the Sith Lords.

I still have Coren to torment at least...

Xiphos opened her eyes, and for just a split second, her Organic eye was completely Sulphur before reverting back to its bronze and green color, the desire for justice and revenge so blurry it made her Nature in the Force... indecisive...

The Amalgam felt joy, knowing Xiphos had for a few moments, given herself completely to her inner rage.

You tell them I am coming for them, you damned ghost... she hissed mentally.

You tell the Jedi I am coming for them...AND I SHALL TEAR DOWN THEIR WALLS AND LEAVE THEM AS BROKEN AS I.

Xiphos was soon stabilized, the Leviathan very close to exiting the effect of the wells, it's remaining vessels following close by.


(EXIT POST)

Percival Io Percival Io
 
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Location: Avatar of War
Objective: Finish the Mission
Allies: HI ( Percival Io Percival Io Laertia Io Laertia Io )
Frenemies: ME
Enemies: BotM ( Joseph Torson Joseph Torson )
Direct Engagement: Joseph Torson Joseph Torson

If she died, she’d die on her feet.

Her armor’s active defense system fired a salvo of nano missiles, which detonated in mid-air to form a protective curtain of pink gas that quickly expanded across the area a few meters in front of her position, around the entrance. Simultaneously, she fired off the last two seismic shells in her magazine from 17 meters away at the maximum rate of fire, towards the closest Raptor (or Raptors) that she could possibly target. Then, Esmeralda threw herself against the nearby bulkhead, swiftly taking out the empty magazine to slot a fresh one inside her shotgun, while taking advantage of the gas as additional cover.


"... DONE!" she exclaimed over their comms, before taking off in the direction of the nearest unblocked exit. "Go! It's gonna blow!"

“Copy that! I’ll be right behind you, sister!” Esmeralda called back, her voice audible only to Rebecca owing to the sonic neutralizer integrated into her helmet. All the while, the Siren didn’t let up in her assault, seeking to pin the Raptors to best of her ability, before they could regain their bearings in the wake of her ambush.

At which point, she would need to disappear, fast.

Backpedaling as she fired round after round from her shotgun at whatever targets were available, with a mental command, Esmeralda activated her armor’s propulsion system, which carried her up and backwards, flying towards the exit Rebecca had located. By this point, the Raptors had begun to push through the gas. Esmeralda felt a sudden sting in her stomach as a pair of blaster bolts struck her armor’s gammaplast chest plating, followed by another on her left leg. The active defense system launched a second salvo of nano missiles, generating a second cloud of blaster-dissipating gas, but by then it was too late. The Siren was falling back towards the ground, having lost control over her flight due to the sudden explosion of pain. And yet, Esmeralda refused to give in to a cry or a scream, only letting a pained grunt leave her lips as she braced herself for a painful, potentially fatal impact…

However, instead of slamming into the ground, the Echani fell into a portal which suddenly manifested directly beneath her, her diminutive form disappearing in a flash of light as she passed through the dimensional gate, translating directly into the Brain Demon’s dimension!
 
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Akar Kesh:-
Cotan Sar'andor Cotan Sar'andor | Heinrich Faust Heinrich Faust | Rurik Fel Rurik Fel dead body (idk who to tag, you lucky few)

In the shuttle, Rakaan flew with his hand held firm onto the handlebar overhead beside a detatchment of soldiers all clad in white, albeit since dirtied, armour. Fresh from the frontlines, their mission as much of a success as it could have been in the circumstances, even if it stained them in more ways than one. He mused on the fact as the cuts on his face still stung. Since redeployed with his men for a vital task of their own, his features creased with a sense of anxiousness as he stared below towards Akar Kesh, to absorb all the chaos that unfolded and all the death and destruction, and how it was to no doubt worsen in due time. But he was a Jedi no more, the continued existence of this world was meant to be of no concern to him now. He swallowed whatever feelings he felt as the transport touched down on the ancient stone.

"Secure the Emperor!" Rakaan commanded to the flood of stormtroopers that disembarked, "And nothing else."

It was all so broken. It was a wound in the Force, all that went on, the not-so-distant shouts of Jedi in their efforts to contain whatever all of this was. To see their faces at a loss, the familiar faces of the dead, remnants of his former life drew their last breath and all Rakaan managed was the smallest of frowns. Forced, or otherwise. But with their blasters raised, the stormtroopers moved in on the corpse of Rurik Fel to find him crumpled and slain. Rakaan noted the absence of his dear cloak, but that was of little consequence now.

"Take him to the shuttle." He said to the nearest stormtrooper, his eyes drifting to all the commotion next.
 
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THE WARDEN
THE NEW JEDI ORDER | TYTHON | THE SEEING STONE
BATTLEMELD ACTIVE FOR ALL JEDI APPROACHING PROSPERITY
HOPE HOPE HOPE HOPE HOPE
PURPOSE PURPOSE PURPOSE PURPOSE

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All those glowing nodes, beacons within the patterns of his mindscape, converged to the nexus Henna declared through their shared link. He felt their reactions, the flare of surprise, the tingles of disbelief, the blips of life coming and going.

Near that void around Akar Kesh, Asmundr’s purview flickered. Wild golden lines spiralled around one another, darkening to a rich crimson, or black — and this sequence meant he saw what it would look like when hope died. It would be brilliant, like a supernova. And its brilliance would be allowed to ripple out and shine so incredibly because of the evil it conquered in exchange.

He saw it, thus, he could prepare for it.

The timing had to be just so.

With reality warping and wefting throughout the planet, and the Jedi of the Nether engaged in battle to blockade the sacrificed souls of the damned, and Solipsis and The Sword engaged in a duel of fates, the timing had to be just so. The blockade of spirits might have affected the severity of the power reaching the Dark Lord, but was it enough?

The timing had to be just so.

Alternate futures were the ficklest of things. Slippery and evasive, and inconclusive even to the most clairvoyant of seers. The possible outcome of conflict changed second to second, influenced by tiny minutiae and giant events.

The outcome lived somewhere in the tapestry woven by weavers that were not a part of the seeing circle. Threads that knotted and twisted through intimate moments like a daughter turning on her father Jem Fossk Jem Fossk , a pillar falling on studious Master Jacen Nimdok Jacen Nimdok , or the return of the prodigal Padawan Thalia Senn Thalia Senn , maybe a halved beast falling from the cliffside Laoth Laoth , or a mutiny among ranks DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran , perhaps even Revenant squadron at the suggestion of Mylo Thorne and approval of Tren Chaar Tren Chaar to run a Nova Flare in space, or Vemric Keldra aboard the Avatar of War, maybe Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor finding the strength within to counter the collapse of the planet’s crust, perhaps Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser debating the duality of truth with Darth Libertas Darth Libertas or General Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka holding the lines near the temple ruins, and transient allies promising remembrance Kirie Kirie and Aerys Fortan or the 313th.

So many micro moments could happen and affect other micro moments, creating sequences that picked up momentum and swelled and puffed out until they grew and grew into something larger, formidable, and unignorable. Something that impacted a wider scope, like Ashla’s moon breaking off fragments, a hyper gate opening on the battlefield, and fallen Jedi rejoining the fight to slow the ascension of the sacrificed.

The timing had to be
just so.

Darth Solipsis, Dark Lord of the Sith, Voice of the Maw and foretold Sith’ari of ancient prophecy, was dead.

"And so, the battle ends,

Endurance ran its course.

An ache swelled behind Asmundr’s ribs, and he whispered a sombre appreciation for all that the founder of the New Jedi Order had done. From beginning to end, in life and in death, he would forever be a symbol.

And it was the symbolism that The Warden amplified, not the apologies. The hope that came with the end of the Sith’ari, and the sacrifice of The Sword. The chance for survival. The final push had to be united, clear and timed just so.

Those affected by the meld would feel an overwhelming sense of hope, purpose, and vision coupled with the calming rhythms of the sacred tenets that bound them to their duty.
There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is The Force.

"Auteme, Asmundr, Henna, this is our chance! Reach out to the Tho Yor, pull them back to where they belong, and we can start to fix this."

Asmundr’s foresight allowed him to be prepared for the urgent plea that rippled through the seer’s connection, he’d known it to come before the words bounced about their ethereal line. He'd known ahead of time the sheer strain of Master Sar'andor sustaining the darkness of the ritual.

Endurance.

The timing had to be just so.

And time was tick, tick, ticking away all too quickly.

It was now that he released the final reserves of his strength. The mountain of a Master matched the schematics of Prosperity in his mind’s eye. The inner workings of the double pyramid were intimate to him, a private mirror of Tho Yor he’d been a Warden of for several years now, was what he needed to understand the scope of which he needed to eradicate. The Tho Yor itself.

He wrenched his wrist, a snappy gesture that pinched his fingers skyward, and initiated the magnetic yearning from the Tho Yor to those that connected to it.

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Like swirling the soup of a cauldron, Asmundr swirled that which Tho Yor sustained into a convoluted mess. Bits of Ashla’s moon glowed throughout the areas he touched upon, rising and falling with the emphasis he placed on the motions. It was grandiose, heaving, and hauling to shine through the depths of darkness. Like digging through a grave when buried alive. He clawed, churned, wrestled, gnashed, persevered, and let endurance run its course. From whence they came, he set their trajectory.

Enervation pulled at his peripheries, and yet, he plotted and pushed. They did not belong here. And in the blip of a moment, with the death of The Dark Lord, the opportunity to eliminate them from Tython was now. Back to Talss, Vur Tepe, Stav Kesh, and other locations around the planet, the several Tho Yor would be sent to. If he could pull through. If he was strong enough.

The ghost of the past, those like Mishel Mishel , Seto Du Couteau Seto Du Couteau and Kiskla Grayson-Matteo Kiskla Grayson-Matteo , were doing well to aid in the dilution of strength for the great ritual. Combined with his power, they might have a chance.

Combined with all the Jedi, they might have more than slim odds. They might have a real chance.

Prosperity’s shields, prepared by the synthetic crew under Arcanus Sunstrider’s artificial command, were at full capacity. Prepared to expand over the designated safe zone. Fortification was the incredible Jedi ship’s sole directive. It hummed with anticipation, as though the very ship itself could feel Valery Noble Valery Noble ’s and all those of The Alliance, soldiers, medics, politicians alike, approach.

And when all those who sought refuge touched base on Prosperity henceforth, they would feel encouraged to add to the shielding process, to protect the designated safe zone.


  1. Asmundr forsees Ryv + Solipsis dying
  2. Ryv and Solipsis die, Asmundr sends out hope hope hope to all those as part of the battlmeld, letting them know the outcome of the duel
  3. Feels Cotan's strain, reminds him to endure
  4. Callback to the dead Jedi who are fighting the powers trying to fuel the ritual
  5. Begins to push against all the Tho Yor, to send it away from the convergence point and disrupt the ritual
  6. Prosperity's shields are on max



SEERS | Henna Ashina Henna Ashina | Auteme Auteme | Cotan Sar'andor Cotan Sar'andor | Asha Vynea
ALLIES | NJO | GA | Judah Lesan | Bernard Bernard | Valery Noble Valery Noble | Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor | Eina L'lerim-Vandiir Eina L'lerim-Vandiir | Geiseric | Ryv Ryv | Thurion Heavenshield | Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze | Corin Trenor Corin Trenor | Damsy Callat | Valery Noble Valery Noble | Kahlil Noble | Romi Jade Romi Jade
FOES | THE DARKSIDE | BOTM | Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis | Laoth Laoth | Zachariel Steelblood Zachariel Steelblood | Dodhorn Harert | Darth Mori

 
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Jace Khel

Guest
J

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Flooded Plains -:
Romi Jade Romi Jade

Jace was certain he was to become consumed, for the waves to crash over him, to be swallowed whole. He could sit, he could use whatever connection he had left to ensure Romi had the time she needed to flee. He felt it stir, the Force, but for all the heart he had in his efforts, he was far too weak to make them so. But it never came, and those blue eyes that shut had soon opened again to see it. Instead, it was relief that washed over Jace.

"Yeah," he muttered, almost mumbled. "Let's get on out of here."

Whatever connections Romi had felt in the Force, Jace was excluded from them. Whether the choice of others, or his own inability to tap into them. He could not say, and neither found the strength to think too much on it. His burst of adrenaline had been used up, he was empty of energy now.
 


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The Defense of the Avatar

Tags: Romul Saxon Fenn Stag Vulcan Krayt Vulcan Krayt Gwyneira Krayt Runi Kuryida Varik Awaud Sergeant Omen Shakka Bralor Javik sudant

Allies: Kralmus Orr Tor’r Tal’Verda Surea Dodhorn Harert Onrai

Directly engaging: Kaz Krayt Vulcan Krayt Vulcan Krayt |
Open.

Objective: Hinder the Enclave boarding party.

Location: Aboard the Avatar / hangar bays.

Equipment & appearance in bio.

Vorm goes on the defensive; he waits for Kaz to get close and flees at the last possible second, hoping for Vulcan's grenade to injure Kaz, instead of its intended victim.

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drivelling

The tempest of shrapnel travelling upon the waves of the Force-wrought blastwave washed over Vulcan Krayt Vulcan Krayt , injuring him. The spike of pain echoed within the Force, reverberating within Vorm's own chest as well. The brute liked this sensation. The shockwave rushed past the Demolitionist Mandalorian, plowing into the metallic hangar wall behind him. The very much ironic gong-like sound of the impact seemed to signal the beginning of the end.

In the meantime, the elite hunter Kaz Krayt had actively survived the barrage of blaster fire coming from the advancing Bloodsworn trooper, who had just seen the total obliteration of his comrade moments earlier. Devastated and angered at equal measure, he grimaced as he moved from cover to cover, reloading and firing at the formerly airborne Mandalorian. Overtaken by grief and a thirst for revenge, in the end he pushed too far ahead, and during his ultimate charge toward Kaz Krayt , he finally received a sonic blast straight to his face. Any and all exposed tissue, including the jaw and eyes of the marauder evaporated instantaneously, and his upper spine cracked due to the massive, sudden backward jolt of his head. He fell and slid forward like a sack of dirt. Even a veteran of the Bloodsworn Tribe couldn't slow down these Enclave warriors.

Vorm's binary angles of attack remained; from one direction, yet another explosive flew at him. Even when impaled, these warriors somehow fought on and could perform long-range throws. From the other, Kaz shot at him repeatedly, sprinting to close the gap and finish their fight in a gritty brawl; something Vorm would find copious amount of morbid joy in. But he wasn't here for personal goals. The Brotherhood, and the Knights of Ren had a battle to win this day, and the duty of the soldier that Vorm ultimately was, came first.

Yet Vorm knew he was outgunned; in that split second, with bolts and an explosive flying at him, he made a snap decision. He deflected as many incoming bolts with his dual sabers as he could, but he still had to rely on his replenished energy shield. Fractal shapes materialized upon the spherical energy barrier each time a roaring blaster bolt collided with it, but the Terrorizer stood and waited for the last possible moment; when Kaz was nearest to him, and the grenade with beskar shrapnel was also at its closest. Vorm recognized a gap in their coordination, and attempted to exploit it to the fullest.

In this final moment, propelled by the winds of the Force, he withdrew back and away from his two assailants, into the mass of warring bodies all around them, hoping for the grenade to unleash its explosive onslaught upon Kaz himself.

Although a Ren, Vorm was just one man. In terms of arcane skills, he was more of a neophyte than the Padawans of the Jedi Order. Only the illegal stims he kept stabbing himself with maintained his powerful projections of the Force, and he was burning through them too fast. The side-effects began to weigh him down significantly. He needed to regroup and find his footing by the side of his allies.

Vorm vanished, swallowed by the chaos of the hangar, not knowing what happened to Kaz Krayt or Vulcan Krayt Vulcan Krayt .

He will fight on, for as long as the Avatar, and his commanders stand.

FINAL POST IN THE THREAD.
 



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THE NEW JEDI ORDER | TYTHON | ASCENDING AKAR KESH
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Rainsoaked, bleary-eyed and bloody with hair stuck wetly to her face, Ishida stared after the halves of the monster that she’d been fighting for so long. She felt emotion pull tightly at the corners of her eyes.

Unconsciously, her hand had reached out after him — why? For what? To catch him? What purpose would that serve? Was it a gesture of regret? She was only alive because Laoth had pulled his punch. He should have killed her on Jedha with the Darkshear, and he should have, could have, killed her here on Tython.

The prospect of regret was uncomfortable for the Ashina heir, and slowly, so slowly, she withdrew her outstretched hand from the battering of the storm’s wind. The rain was noisy against her tekko, and ran down the ribbons that wrapped around her wrists to keep the armour in place.

Overhead, the ritual was reaching a culmination point. She could feel its dark pull, heavy and overwhelming. When her silver gaze finally lifted from staring after her adversaries trajectory, and up to the clouds and chaos above, she realized she was all too close to be able to act on Henna’s beckon.

There was no physical way she could cross that much distance in time. Even if she could, she had no idea where to start, or where she was relative to anywhere else — everything around her was grey and smoke-bound.

She sucked her lip in and bit down to prevent any useless crying. Her body wilted, growing weaker from blood loss. Cuts across her face, shoulders, legs, and worst of all, her stomach, were all starting to take their toll. She didn’t want to die. Not yet, not here. Not alone.

Akar Kesh’s waterfalls were still unseen, and the Silent Desert’s sands were still untouched.

One hand pressed against her stomach, the other dropped to her side and she leaned into it. Reality shimmered over the back of her knuckles, sparkling greyish blue like the pools of the waterfalls. She felt a vague sensation over the back of her hand — wet — from the rain? Or the stream bed?

Clutching the sphere of judgement, a stone within the breastplate of her armour, Ishida drew in a deep breath. She felt it shudder through her lungs, and evaporate on her exhale. It took more strength to ask for help than it had to conjure the Ashlan blade to defeat her foe.

“Master, if you can hear me..” She spoke more with thoughts and feelings than words. The taste of copper was strong on her tongue. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, to localize where the blood was coming from; but she couldn’t. “I..can’t make it to Prosperity alone.”


“Ishida.”

Distantly, Ishida felt the shape of a hand against her shoulder plating. And over the roar of the waterfall, that really wasn’t a waterfall at all for that was too far away to be true, she heard an answer to her plea.

Her stomach flipped, and she made a small noise of relief in the back of her throat. Relief or disbelief. One of the two.

"I hear you. I... should have been here... but I was not. I apologize for failing you."

Reality flexed, and Michael’s words were so unprecedented or expected she feared she may have been stuck in an imaginative loop. Michael Sardun, Divine Master of The Light, Battlemaster of the Ages, imprisoner of Sith, expressed his failing to her? His Padawan?

"You did well, Padawan. You destroyed evil today. Whatever else happens today- remember this... you took on a weight nobody else was willing."

He apologized, and complimented? Reassured?

There were no words to express the shock that stalled out her internal systems. Maybe the inconclusive sound, like a stutter, achieved to articulate the unfathomable. She wanted to clutch herself to his legs, feel them solid, feel safe.

If he was real, he could help.
If he was an apparition, she’d be doomed.

Words were precious — anything that took energy at this juncture was a valuable resource to the wounded warrior. It took everything for her not to go slack-jawed with awe, and ask: Are you really here?

Steeled with Ashina-born intensity, she was careful with her next request. The conservation of her energy was key if this was just a trick on her mind.

“They need me at Prosperity.” She emphasized, and withheld opinions related to her wannabe-sister-in-law, or the unlikelihood that Sardun would actually express such care to her.

“I need your help.” The word came out more vitriolic than intended, and she crunched forward to cough violently. The place where Laoth's foot had been on her sternum was already yellowing, purple in the centre, and the bones beneath too were certainly bruised.




ALLIES | NJO | GA | Bernard Bernard | Henna Ashina Henna Ashina | Michael Sardun Michael Sardun
FOES | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | Laoth Laoth

 
Spindly
Marauder of the Scar Hounds Tribe
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Objective: Kill everyone!
Location: The Rowan Grove Plateau, Mt. Sintarin, Northern Temple Valley, Tython
Equipment: 2x Geysa Hybrid Pistol | Assault Rifle | Armour and weapon (weapon is lightsaber resistant) || OPBC-01m
Writing With: Thomas Barran Thomas Barran | Ronar Ronar
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[ Valley of Death ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >>

  • Spindly survives the battle.
  • She leaves the planet behind and returns to the fleet.
Spindly #1
Tommy #1 (in Spindly’s arc)
Ronar #1
Spindly #2
Tommy #2
Ronar #2
Spindly #3
Tommy #3
Tommy #4
Ronar #3
Spindly #4
Tommy #5
Tommy #6

During fighting and war, time passes quickly, Spindly had no idea how much time had passed since they fought. Lightning, rain, thunder, and darkness were constant around them. Last but not least, if one is almost religiously ecstatic, in which case the twi'lek will not even recognise how time passes. After a while, she noticed that the Imperials were starting to retreat and no opponent left behind. Then they also received the retreat order.

She didn't understand why, but it didn't matter why it had to be that way. She sank to the ground exhausted. She was tired, her body full of new wounds and bruises. Some of the wounds were still bleeding, but most had already coagulated. Spindly got up, but then fell to the ground wearily again, when there were no more enemies left around her. The adrenaline ran out of her body and the girl was exhausted and tired. She killed many and sent them to the Avatars, but she herself hasn't reached the Galaxy to come yet. Maybe during the next battle.

The Avatars seemed to think she hadn’t done enough yet to earn her place in paradise. That thought didn’t make her sad, because she knew she had to be better than she was now. She was given another purpose to get better, and the Avatars honoured her with their attention as well. At least she thought so based on what she saw. And let no one question the imaginations of a crazy religious person in this direction, because they may not survive.

Spindly survived the day, and it was perfect for her to be able to fight in the next battle as well. After all, there were three things that were constant in the galaxy: war, death, and rebirth. Respectively War, Death and Rebirth. Or are these six things already? Spindly was confused, she was probably never good at maths, or if she was, it was just a thing of the past.

She thought about this while the dropship on which she was heading towards the fleet…

Last post.

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