Annihilation Shatterpoint | BotM Annihilation of GA Held Tython

[Fenn Stag]

[/div][/div]

MY FATHER'S BLOOD​

Allies: Mandalorian Enclave l Defenders of Tython l Shakka Bralor l Runi Kuryida l Kaz Krayt l Gwyneira Vizsla l Vulcan Krayt

Not Allies: Attackers of Tython l Marlon Sularen l Derix Tirall

Equipment: Beskar'Gam l Crushgaunts l Disruptor Pistol l Beskar Knife l Jetpack l Murder Machine l Combat Stims l Cigar and a lighter l Wrist Mounted Flamethrower l x3 Grenades






Fenn had two lineages. His father's, an efficient Hunter, a man who taught him to be a skilled Hunter, and to respect the ways of the Mandalorians. A veteran of the wars, his father, Jyn Stag- took Fenn in, and guided him to a better future, a better path. A better way.

His second was of course, the one he was molded from. Mandalorians far and wide knew the name Preliat Mantis. Many Sith knew it as well. A warrior of brutal reputation, Preliat was more or less the reason that the Mandalorians were sent into disarray for so many years. A domino effect wrought by the Sith, by most accounts.

Fenn was his own man, but carried both of his legacies, his Clan and family's, and his blood.

Fenn gripped tightly the Heavy Repeater in his hand. He was given it prior to this battle. A Mandalorian design, for a Mandalorian, for a Mandalorian war. Fenn's eyes, clouded by heavy black face paint, watched the Mandalore usher him into his pod. He wasn't a fan of space travel- much less experimental designs. But the Mandalorians of old rode into battle on mighty Basilisk war droids, conquering planets by jumping into the atmosphere. He had a legacy to uphold, a mission to partake in.

And not something of his own design. He was fighting for something. For his people. For the galaxy. It felt good. It felt almost right- picking his own war. He was grown in a tube, experimented on, and shaped to fight a war that was not his own, to uphold laws and order that were not his. A slave army for a cruel Republic. For the Jedi's interests, for the Republic's Senators to throw to the wolves, to their enemies. He had never picked a fight just for himself, for his own reasons.

But here? Now? He felt the rush of battle that the songs and poems spoke about, unable to describe as his pod launched. He closed his eyes, praying to the Manda. He pictured them watching over him, all the Mandalorians of old, the Crusaders and those that gave their lives in defense of his people. The Mandalores of old, the great and mighty warriors that lead their people to victory- and most importantly, his father. He pictured him as he remembered, alive and well, on the porch of their Concordian homestead, teaching him about this and that, how to trap and stalk this, how to conceal himself-

And how to be a Mandalorian. And when a Mandalorian was called to fight for his people, he was to answer.

Fenn was called. And he answered.

He gripped tightly the chainsaw grip of his Repeating Blaster, breathing deeply behind his T-visor. Fenn, was reasonably scared.

He flexed his fingers, his pod racing towards the monstrosity and affront to all that was good and righteous in the galaxy. He would help by all of his ability to rend and tear the Maw's horrific weapon from the face of the galaxy.

Or die trying.

​

 

[Kralmus Orr]

The Defense of the Avatar
​

Location: Tython system, aboard the Avatar of War
Tags: Marlon Sularen | Derix Tirall | Romul Saxon | Fenn Stag

Spoiler: TL;DR

• Kralmus prepares himself to repel Mandalorian boarders

​

Sometimes all a hunter had to do in order to secure his prey was find the perfect location and wait.

Kralmus Orr had found the perfect location. He had stationed himself - no one had dared give him any orders, so he'd pretty much picked where he wanted to go - aboard the superweapon known as the Avatar of War, stalking its bizarre bio-mechanical halls with axe in hand. He knew a simple truth, one that would guide him to a worthy battle: all eyes would be on the biggest Mawite gun, and enemy champions could not resist the chance to board it. The Brotherhood would fight to prevent any foes from actually reaching the thing, but they were so heavily outnumbered that they wouldn't be able to keep that up forever. Someone would land on the Avatar, someone powerful.

And then Kralmus Orr would kill them, eat them, and turn their skulls into a nice set of goblets.

The cannibal had expected that Mandalorians would be among their foes. In fact, he'd looked forward to that near-certainty; there was nothing he liked better than the opportunity to prove that the hidebound traditionalists of the Mandalorian Enclave, with all their babbling about honor and customs and really boring chit that didn't make anyone a better warrior, were the inferior version of his people. Death's Hand followed the true heir of his people, Mand'alor the Unchained, who would unleash them in a great crusade of bloody conquest against the galaxy. That was the real legacy of the Mandalorians, time after time: genocide, plunder, and unrestricted war. Just ask the Cathar.

Yes, he'd expected Mandalorians... but not quite in the way that they showed up.

"Incoming contacts," barked a young Final Dawn sensors officer, sweat beading on his brow beneath his black uniform cap. "Small and fast-moving." "More House Io fighters?" asked the gunnery officer beside him, staring over at his screen. The first officer shook his head. "No. Different profile, and they're coming in from behind. They must've used the moon's shadow to hide where they're launching from." Kralmus glanced at the screen and smiled, his thin lips drawing back over teeth filed down to points. "Boarding pods," he hissed, pleased that his prediction had come true. "Enclave boarding pods." It was like they were delivering themselves to him.

Nicely-wrapped little Life Day presents, those pods were, with succulent little treats on the inside. Yum.

"Activate our rear point-defense systems!" the gunnery officer barked, determined to thin the numbers of the pods as much as possible before they struck home. But Kralmus was no longer interested in the operations of this deck. He wanted to go open his presents. Whistling a jaunty little tune, he strolled through the slimy corridors of the bio-mechanical monstrosity, waiting for the first pod to breach the hull. He sharpened his axe as he went, a long shhhhhhlick of his whetstone along its razor edge, readying it to split armor and bone like nerf butter. He so hoped that plenty of his "kinsmen" would make it through the defensive gauntlet. He wanted to kill them himself.

Waiting had been terribly boring, and the best antidote for boredom was copious blood.

 

[Anja Doreva]

ALLIES: BOTM | NSO | Whoever else - I ain't tagging y'all
ENEMIES: GA | NJO | NIO | AC | Enclave | EE | The whole shebang
ENGAGING: Simon Meinrad
GEAR: In bio

REST IN PEACE​

Tython.

It had been on the Conquer-bucket list of the Lady of Conquest and her Master, the Lady of Night Era Knox, a long time ago. Danika's main focus had long since shifted to other horizons, but the desire to gain the knowledge housed on the ancient planet was still there.

And now her time had come.

She had accompanied the Maw and New Sith Order on more than a few conquests over the years, so it was nothing new to suit up the Legion to accompany them on another great endeavour.

With the Fortuna in a secluded area in orbit, the Lady of Bone stepped out of time onto the soil of Tython along with Samron and the Ash Hellions while chaos reigned in the background as Mawites and Flesh Raiders swarmed all around while the allied forces tried to withstand it the best they could.

But her focus was not on destroying the planet and the Jedi. It was to get her hands on the knowledge hidden in Kaleth before it was too late.

"Now, darlings, let's not dilly-dally. We don't have much time before the barbarians start pulling tapestries from walls." she said as she glided towards the Temple of Knowledge across the treacherous landscape.
"You couldn't drop us closer to Kaleth, Mistress?" Samron asked as he fell into step next to her while the Ash Hellions flanked them both, weapons drawn.
"Now where's the fun in that. darling?" she smirked.
The Falleen pulled a face behind the dread-helm. "I thought we were in a hurry, my Lady."
"Indeed we are, Samron. But you know I like to challenge myself." Danika's teal eyes were laughing at him.
"But...the Maw's paln, Mistress." The General countered, clearly confused.
"You see any Mawite, Jedi or otherwise standing in our way before we get what we came for, disintegrate them, General. It's not that difficult." Danika answered as they trekked through the valley in the direction of their destination. She occasionally waved a hand to sweep aside soldiers in their way with the Force.

She may help out the Sith in a roundabout way at times, but her allegiance was to herself and her men alone. The Herald of Death had no qualms sacrificing Mawite "allies" to suit her own needs. With every step she took throughout the Galaxy, with every confrontation she had, her connection with the realm of the dead strengthened. She had survived both Jedi and Sith for so long. Before long she would be victorious over both.

Provided she could gather the lost scripts throughout the Galaxy.

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

Writing with: Rika Hiro Don Belkora

Nearby tags: Darth Solipsis Zachariel Steelblood Ingrid L'lerim
[will tag more people as I catch up]​

SWARMING OPULENCE​

Their descent was devastation.

Their strife, biblical.​

Together, the relentlessly advancing Brotherhood formed an organ of pristine, utter hatred; jaws of crooked steel that salivated soot at the sight of the Holy World of the Jedi. Its engines fueled by limitless suffering, its power bursting with oil and bile. An unimaginable amount of slaves sacrificed upon the altar of conquest, even to reach the Holy Land. The antithesis of the Maw. A world the New Sith craved more than any other. The price will be tectonic. Chances, terrifying. But their presence alone…

Tremble. – A frightening voice hurtles over the verdant lands surrounding Akar Kesh. It crawls up the spines of all the armies opposing the Maw, its pulverizing bass palpable within one's chest. But the shock of the grotesque notes punch through even to the spirit. It permeates the flesh, vitrifies the blood.
​

Violates the mind.

​

Seeping out from beyond the high-hanging mist that surrounds the monolith of the Tho Yor, glacially fluttering tentacles of dark cloth blur the outline of a primal horror of the Dark Side. Framed in a lining of decaying brilliance, preceded by an air of suspense, the silhouette of the booming voice's possessor takes form in the shape of THE BLASPHEMER LORD PTOLEMIS.

The Sith Lord's spiked mask glimmers as he gently floats down from the defiled heavens above, delivered to the ground by his oppressive will over the Force alone. As his feet first touch the soil silently, a chilling wind sweeps through the natural embankment encircling the base of the ancient stone column. His anointed robe settles still upon his arrival to the wetland that stretches out beneath the shadow of the colossal pillar. With a black, dormant lightsaber hilt in hand, Ptolemis gazes across the boiling warfare painted over the horizon.

He shall remain.

None shall pass.​

​

​

 

[Lehvi Vass]

ALLIES: Defenders
ENEMIES: Maw, NSO, Maw Allies
Equipment: Cross-Guard Lightsaber, Vibroshield, Julip, the akk dog
3 Akk Riders
OBJ: Act as a rapid response unit for Crusaders and allies
Location: South of the Temple ruins

What was disquieting, Lehvi thought as they rode, was the tension. They had all experienced all of the glories and horrors of war- they were Akk Riders of Ghôsh Vass. They were born into it- molded by it. Live or die, they would give glory to Ashla and the Ghôsh.

No, the tension wasn't anticipation. It was as if Tython itself was holding a deep breath. The Force absolutely thrummed with power- clashes of the light and dark, bubbling up but not yet having burst into the forefront. But when the armies of Ashla and Bogan were joined, they would be ready.

Lehvi was patrolling the area north of Temple ruins. The Riders were tasked as a "rapid response unit"- should something occur, they were to make all haste to relieve their Crusaders. It had been quiet thus far, but he wasn't holding his breath- the factions were marshalling, getting ready to move.

Hell hadn't broke loose yet, but it was a matter of when, not if.

 

[Henna Ashina]

make your heart proud
SHIELD OF TYTHON
THE SEEING STONE| CIRCLE OF SEERS | SUPPORT
Allies: GA | Asmundr Varobalder | Auteme | Cotan Sar'andor | OPEN -- TAG
Enemies: BOTM | OPEN

Thoughts formed and fell away with every breath as the master centered herself. The fear for all those she cared for went first. Bernard, the blade of Tython, facing his challenges alone; Ishida, the lines of light and dark blurring endlessly; Inosuke, shattered and broken as he was after Coruscant. They were vivid and surreal, edging her mind to give into the doubt and abandon her purpose. With another breath, the images fell away, scattering like dust to the wind.

Then, the anger that the foe would dare be as bold as to touch their world. She could feel them below, invaders without remorse. Their presence clashed with the light violently. She could feel the magma gathering beneath the surface, the static charging in the atmosphere- as if Tython itself threatened reckoning for the bold assumption they held any power here at all. Henna exhaled the growing wrath, choosing instead to focus on innate faith. Tython had seen everything- always there, always watching. It would persevere, unwavering in its serenity; Henna had to believe that.

“It begins. Steady your minds.”

"As one." Henna murmured.

Her focus moved from the recesses of her mind to the force around them. Drums beat out of time, strings screeched, a piano clattered noisily, as if indulging the chaos. A grimace formed on the master's face as she lifted a baton, directing that chaos away from the Jedi that had joined them. Reaching for Tython once more, she directed all that emotion - the doubt, the anger, the fear of reckoning - back to the enemy.

A deep breath steadied her before she reached for their own below, drawing the mighty warriors out of tune with the force around them. Raw determination and knowledge flowed through her, a rock standing steady as the river raged around it. She blessed the soldiers- both those of the Alliance and those who had chosen to walk the path beside them. Today, they all stood in the light. She offered her own strengths to bolster them on the field - clarity and resolve.

"Even if the surface of Tython is scoured by their weapons, it can and will live again, but that won't matter if Solipsis himself isn't stopped! He's already twisted one Tho Yor to his purposes, and I don't want to think about what can happen if he can exert himself on all the others."

The message was one born of passion, nearly shattering the peace that the master had worked to collect. A grimace formed on her lips as she resisted the call of her own. Golden orbs flickered open to study the holomap floating in the center of the triangle, reaffirming what her own instincts told her.

"Master, our soldiers across the planet are holding off not only attacks on the surface- they're holding back reinforcements from Akar Kesh." Henna threw what was the equivalent of a glare through the meld. "If the Maw goes uncontested at the other temples, they will amass, protecting Solipsis further."

There was a pause as the master reached through the meld, counting heads.

"You are right, he must be stopped- so stop him. You are not alone. The others are coming, and we will steady you."

MEDITATION ACTIVE ON OBJ I -- MELD ACTIVE ON OBJECTIVE III​

 

[Zinn Zinn Bink'sa]

Location: Tython, Akar Kesh
Objective: 1
Allies: BOTM
Engaging: Cotan Sar'andor


The life a Sith Gungan was a horrible one. First he got hooked to spice, then tried to lead an uprising of his people. Then he had more spice addictions to the point of selling his lightsaber for more spice. He had no weapon, his body was shaking all strung out and unable to shake off what he had felt for months. It had all gotten even more downhill when he heard about Tython, as soon as the Gungan even heard the name of the Jedi homeworld he had mugged someone and in a drunken rage stole a civilian transport.

Now the same craft emerged through hyperspace, what looked to be a falling meteor was the Gungan… Turns out he couldn’t drive stick… “Wesa crashin!! Wesa gonna die!!!” He said, as he tried to look for a horn to honk, the screen had faded and now all he could see was flames all over the place.

Next thing he knew, as when he tried to pull the control yokes, the controls snapped right off. At first Zinn Zinn didn’t say anything as he held the steering in his hands. He just started to screaming uncontrollable. “Wesa gonna die!!! Oh nos noooo!” In a fit of stress he started to bash he head where the control yokes used to be. His craft approaching closely to the surface.

The spiced out Gungan slowly started to emerge from the crashed site, conviently on the steps of Akar Kesh… “Save my again…” He said looking over to the ship, remarking how he evaded a warrant from the cops on the way here. Looking up to the top, he groaned. “Too many damn stairs. Why Mesa gotta walk so much…” He said grumbling as he started to walk his slow trek up to the top.

 

[Zet Reav]

Objective I: Defending
ELYSIUM EMPIRE
Post: 01
Rex Valhoun | Loreena Arenais-Valhoun | Open to engagement​

Spoiler: TL;DR

Preparing for combat and surveying field, kneeling down and alone somewhere in the Elysium square. Ready to slap a wound and heal allies or start firing.

Spoiler: Equipment

Beskar'gam armor
ERS (Emergency Revival System) (Under the armor)
Scout Jetpack
02 Blaster Pistols (Westar-34)
Blaster Rifle (On back)
01 Vibro-dagger
Vambraces (Combat - Worn)
Vambraces (Medical - On belt, will put on if needed)

Belt:
Rations (For prolonged scouting)
Red Drops vial
01 Vital Suppressor
01 Energy Bola
Grenades (2 of each):
Sonic
Flash
EMP
Smoke

---

---

Zet Reav is not scared to get into a battle. Of dying, perhaps, since life is too good to be lost but everyone dies at some point. Of massive magical storms while on a planet owned by Sorcerers, engaged in combat with and against forces controled by said sorcerers? Hell. Yes. He wonders if the Sorcerers, either Sith or Jedi, control powers of manipulation against logic and common sense and, staring up at the sky, he can't help but sigh under his helmet. Armies, bombs, combat and tactics, those make sense and he is good with.

But what is he supposed to do against weather? The Elysium is his current employer, and the King is there. So Zet is there. At first there was no personal reason or particular enemy to fight, just business and credits. "... I need to hire an agent to handle my contracts..." He also needs to spend more times doing mercenary work and less time creating what others might call 'Mad Science'. Personally he just calls it 'Science with a few sprinkles of ethics-free boundaries'. But then, that's life.

Some have unfair powers to defy logic. Others have a fondness for defying health regulations and improve science further. And pockets full of grenades, because grenades make sense.

On the plus side, the Mandalorians are there. That cheered him up a bit. He still doesn't care about the planet and the locals, but it feels good to be on the same battlefield as his people, though far away. Focus on that, Zet. Let magic to the magicians. Focus on what you can do. Combat. War. Outsmarting and killing enemies. Kill enough the name Reav will be famous again.

Maybe if he had a bomb big enough... Hmmm, no, no, the owners of the planet would probably dislike it.

For now he is doing one of the things he was trained to do, scouting. Kneeling down behind the cover of the trees, with a large cloak covering his red armor, he has the high ground to look at area ahead to study the battle between the Elysium Empire and whatever comes their way. From that position he has a wide area to observe and a reasonably good cover. The T-visor hides his fear fairly well, but that fear makes him sharp and ready to face whatever shows up in his line of sight.

 

[Ishida Ashina]

THE NEW JEDI ORDER | TYTHON | ASCENDING AKAR KESH

FIRE RUNNING DOWN YOUR CHEEKS
​

Masters Varobalder and Saratt retold their visions to The Council, who in turn spread awareness to The New Jedi Order and allies. The message was sinister enough to mobilize Jedi from around the galaxy to convene on Tython in preparation for the foreseen strike at the Force’s birthplace.

But their visions hadn’t been so detailed as the tumult that tore through the planet now. And where exactly the strike would occur — leaving the Jedi to find other ways to reach the crest of The Temple of Balance.

She grimaced and pulled her blade from the side of one of the soldiers in a squadron they’d come across within the rocks. Their vehicles were being used for cover, and they’d unleashed salvo after salvo for the nimble pair to outwit and dodge. They’d managed to, with some effort. Ishida could smell scorched cloth coming from her arm, but it was less damage than the burnt flesh and metal that bent over at her feet.

This squadron was one of several. Marked with the telling battle colours of The Bloodsworn. Most of their faces were concealed beneath helms, their expressions of death hidden from the Atrisian warrior. She used to take delight in seeing, or imagining their faces. Slack-jawed in shock, twisted in rage, angry eyes bright and shining turning dull. Now, it was nothing more than duty. Lives for a cycle that was as unnatural as the mutilations she felled with her blade.

With the last of this small pocket downed, Ishida felt secure enough to loosen her muscles and let out the breath she’d been holding. At the same time, a voice unknown brushed against her consciousness, that turned her belly to water.

Whoever is coming to Akar Kesh, come quickly—we'll keep the storm as calm as possible so you can get up here, but we don't have long."
"Even if the surface of Tython is scoured by their weapons, it can and will live again, but that won't matter if Solipsis himself isn't stopped! He's already twisted one Tho Yor to his purposes, and I don't want to think about what can happen if he can exert himself on all the others."

so stop him

Ishida frowned.

Silver eyes stared up the pinnacle, hearing the unspoken I warned you resounding in the back of her mind.

Michael Sardun had scoffed at the mantras found within the walls of the ancient temple, derisively exposing the folly of the Jed’aii concepts of equality, dependence, and mutual respect. Waxing betwixt masters about philosophy was a waste of time in a galaxy that was constantly living on borrowed minutes. Two powers could not live in respectful balance, one would always supersede the other. The Force had no governance, and darkness must be stomped out for it threatened the brilliance of The Light and all the beauty Ashla provided.

Again and again, the darkness proved itself as something entirely opposite to The Light. Seeking to destroy and undo.

"We transformed desolation to warmth. We ensured the lessons of our past wouldn't be lost."

Whereas conduits of the light, The Watchmen of Tython spent time restoring its artifacts, maintaining its history, and building on the legacy. The rebuilding of Stav Tesh, the restoration of New Kaleth — and all they found beautiful enough to want to share.

As much as they had done here, there was always more. Always so much more for them to see;

"Up in the north, there's a desert that swallows all sound. It's utterly silent. And down in the south, the island chains hosting the Waterfalls of Akar Kesh are stunning. I have to take you someday."

What if they never got the chance? If Darkness truly managed to tip the scales and —

— No. She couldn’t do that. Couldn’t let her mind wander now. That was the easy thing to do — to sprinkle herself through all timelines and make the present less real.

Above, the sky threatened to split open. Clouds gathered, shadows clustered and volatility stretched through the air, electric and brutal.

Below, far away, the waterfalls of Akar Kesh pounded against the pools, spraying wildly with their natural power.

Here, the still air crawled across Ishida’s skin, and five corpses of supersoldiers crunched around her. More would be coming. Bernard and Ishida would need to commandeer a vehicle or find another way to get past all the defences plotted around Akar Kesh to get to Solipsis.

“Bernard,” Ishida reached for him, begging for a selfish moment from Tython’s Sword. Her hand found his and her eyes sought the same connection. For the briefest instant, a breath of a moment, Tython fell away and the present, here, was just her hand in his and the other touching his cheek.

All of her had to remain in the present. All she lent to the future was faith, and all she borrowed from the past were his promises.

“Those Island Chains you promised to take me to are so close now.” She nodded her chin in the direction of the distant shapes, surrounded by silver water. She injected that borrowed faith, and the ounce of hope lent through the meld. It was enough for her to bleed the confidence of when's victory, and not if's questionable potential for loss: “When this is done, I want to see them with you."

---

ALLIES | NJO | GA | Bernard |
FOES | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | Zachariel Steelblood [BORROWED ONE OF YOUR TRIBE SQUADS] | Laoth

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Master’s Retreat
Allies: BOTM
Enemies: Valery Noble Kahlil Noble
Objective: 1

The room that had once been a quiet serend place had only turned into full on carnage. Kyrel stood among one of the ancient Jedi statues as if pondering something, meanwhile his men were either feasting on what corpses had remained, or were looting some of the precious valuables within. To think that such history could be erased in the blink of an eye only when the Maw ventured forth to take and to conquer. Kyrel found the carnage to be his source of serenity, the blood of the Padawan still fresh on his hands. The body of the boy had literally been picked to the bone, his own men haven’t eaten since the long journey from Empress Teta. They were often starved inbetween campaigns to ensure maximum combat effectiveness.

“Look at what you’ve built? Do you see now? You are not holier than thou… You aren’t gods… You aren’t even mortal… Simply a footnote into history…” He paused as he spoke up to the statue, a hand reaching out. Soon through the Force the statue started to shake, it wasn’t long before Kyrel’s sheer might started to bring down such an archaic thing. The statue’s head at his feet he said. “Soon to fade into nothing.”

Then I’m that moment he finally sensed them, the Jedi he was looking for had arrived. Even better was that the Jedi he sensed was one that was coming for him. Valery Noble, and if he had to guess she brought along her partner. Since the last encounter he had only increased his search efforts, and now the fly would come to the spider’s web. A smirk started to form beneath the mask, his hand gripped the saber tightly awaiting the confrontation.

Turning back to his men, he yelled in excited glee. “Boys, we have some unexpected guests… Go give them a warm welcome.” He said, the men before him grunted as they left a trail of blood and gore in their wake. Quickly they marched out of the room, and towards the landing pad to give the Jedi a most hospitable welcome for all the effort they brought.

He knelt down on the floor, with a flick of his wrists all the lights in the room were destroyed. Darkness and the stench of death were the only things to embrace him now, he focused on quiet dark meditation as he waited for his own welcome party to arrive.

 

[Vilaz Munin]

A K A A N
TYTHON | AKAR KESH
Briika Munin
Dodhorn Harert

DARKEST HOUR

​

The fires of war lingered to whatever kindling there was left. Slowly fading from his soul, he felt as if he was a shell of a man with no purpose. Peace sapped his strength and vision, Vilaz presuming these were the tricks of the Trickster god and the Sloth god to strip him from being the man he was. To bring to a decadent state and make him into a lesser man. The clans still were divided, no union of Mandalorians to be seen. Their enemy, the Sith Empire, was all that brought them together until the Sith were no more but mere ashes; fading into the wind, but alas seeds of that cult sought refuge in the Unknown Regions. Along with them, Mandalorians that bowed to these new Dark Lords.

For years now he did nothing about it. The Mandalorians with the Maw were of no threat or care to Vilaz, almost indifferent to their cause though disturbed to the power they held when Csilla was sacked and became a barren; much more barren than a glassed Mandalore. Even still, he did not bother to pick up his beskad and point it to these zealots. All he did was try to peacefully enjoy the spoils of victory against the Sith.

However, the spoils of victory against the Sith dried out for him too quickly, and all he had left was his family and clan to look after. Acting no more than mercenaries for the New Imperials, being left alone to their own autonomous rule as Tavlar once decreed long before his passing. Some found glory in the credits they earned from their endurance, others found it in combat itself. For the elder Munin? It was repellent for a proud people like his to be fighting for cold credits or to have said glory in fighting wars for foreigners. There was no value to be fighting for any of those causes; there was honor and righteousness, however, to be fighting for their people and to create an empire like their ancestors.

A wild dream of his, hoping to see an age of Mandalorians to tame the stars before he would ultimately pass away. Yet abhorring from his stagnation, he made a pillage to his gods seeking their wisdom and clarity. To know what he must and shall do...and so his prayers were answered with a vision.

TYTHON​

A world sacred to the Jedi...a world consumed by darkness, unholy flames that licked its earth. Blood stains everywhere and reality warped by the power of ominous entities. The onslaught, however, didn't stop there in his vision. It would spread like a cancer to what was most dear to him. The heads of his family and clan at his feet, and all for his apathy to these zealots. For not wanting to lend a hand to stop these ruthless barbarians, he would pay a price should he continue to do so...

CRY OF WAR

​

He would not be responsible for the death of his clan and kin for his lack of action. His armor and beskad would be burnished once more to finally face this newfound foe. Upon his vision he made the preparations for Tython quickly, rallying many of his warriors to this banner. The flames of war ablazed within his heart, enough to lay waste to various systems should he want it to be so. His flame need no kindling to be alive, and it would not surrender to the wind or water.

These zealots; this conglomerate of Sith, Mandalorians, and other foul marauders worshipped and called for war.

And so he would answer their call.
​

I will show them war

They had reached Tython along with the New Imperials and whatever allies they had. Vilaz and his clan operated on their vessels, cruisers and dreadnoughts that would coordinate with the New Imperials against the rampaging Maw. Already the flames of combat fanned across Tython, countless lives showing up in arms against this threat or lending their swords to their aid. His position did not belong here within the safe confines of his flagship; it belonged below in the atmosphere of Tython.

"Prepare my mount," he ordered to his shipmaster before turning heel to walk out of the command bridge. Walking with his wife at his side to the hangar where his prized basilisk war droid would await for its master. Organized warriors rushed to their war droids, starfighters, or shuttles to do what must be done. They followed Vilaz without question, always earning their respect and loyalty when called upon. They would follow him to the jaws of death if he marched so. The Munin was always the first in leading his warriors in battle, and always the last to leave its torment.

"Don't leave my side," he said while looking at his wife through his helmet, wrapping an arm around her to pull himself closer to her. Touching the 'forehead' of their helmets, before pulling himself from her and mounted his war droid and helping his wife to aboard the behemoth droid. "Let's ride!" the war droid suspending itself from the durasteel floor, and launching itself out of the hangar bay with other Mandalorians in their respective transport. A detachment of warriors accompanied him and his wife, along with an escort of fighters. The war droid at his command powered through at full speed, racing to the sphere of Tython. Racing until they were coming hot through its atmosphere via reentry. No radiation would harm them from the impeccable engineering of the droid.

"There..." his eyes focusing on the great pillar that erected to the heavens with an ancient temple where chaos was wanting to escape. Just like his vision foretold...

 

[Khamul Kryze]

The Unchained

Engaging: Geiseric (soon)

Allies: Darth Vinaze , Darth Solipsis ,Darth Mori, Dodhorn Harert , Zachariel Steelblood , Alexa , Laoth , Anja Doreva , Darth Ptolemis , Zinn Zinn Bink'sa

Enemies: Eina L'lerim-Vandiir , Judah Lesan , Ingrid L'lerim , Aoki-Barran Mira , Valery Noble , Rurik Fel , Asmundr Varobalder , Cotan Sar'andor

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

Lacrimosa

The skies blackened over Tython, enveloping the planet within the ethereal shroud of the Dark Side. The Brotherhood had fought their way across the stars, spreading the unholy words of their dreaded Avatars as they bathed in the blood of their fallen enemies. Through it all, the weakened masses attempted to push the tide of darkness back, even having done so successfully at times, if only for a moment. Such victories only delayed the inevitable, however, for no amount of mustered forces could possibly dream of overcoming the machinations of the Maw. The Imperials... the Jedi... the Dar'manda... all of them were simply whispers in the wind, doomed to be swept away by the current of the Dark Voice and his ilk. Today would be a testament of that, and the Demon Mandalore would have a front row seat as the birthplace of the Jedi came crashing down around them.

He stood near the blackened visage of Darth Solipsis as he unleashed his will upon the planet, his masked gaze fixed upon the brilliant display of power as the torrent continued to build and cascade across the blotted skies. There was a sense of... was it admiration? Perhaps. Khamul may have only seen the Dark Voice as a stepping stone on the path to achieving his own goals, but the Unchained always respected strength, even if it came from one that he was destined to one day ascend above. Anyone that underestimated such power would surely perish in its wake, just as so many would on this very day.

As he stood there, a single aqueous, inky eye produced itself next to him, a piece of the otherworldly presence of none other than Darth Vinaze. Khamul's long time comrade mused over the current state of the Maw's attack, prompting Khamul to turn his attention toward the hovering eye.

"Indeed..."

And drink in the power he did, allowing the swirling energies flow through him freely as he bathed in their foul radiance.

"This will be the beginning, Vinaze... soon, we will all be baptized by the veil of shadow."

Within the umbra of the Dark Side, Khamul could sense the faintest trickle of light, as if a burning lantern danced in the distance, beyond the horizon of darkness. It was a familiar feeling, something he had felt once before upon a distant planet.

"I sense that I will prove my own worth before the day is out."

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

Allies: Coren Starchaser Celeste Rigel | Team Lightside
Enemies: Open | Team Darkside
Location: Landing near Kaleth, heading to Ruined Temple

It was Starchaser's call to arms that had alerted this particular Jedi Master to the plight of Tython, ancestral homeworld of all Jedi. To any and all that style themselves as Jedi or some other practitioner of the Light, this was holy ground. It had been home to the very first Jedi Temple, and in the days of the Old Republic, thousands of years ago, it served as the headquarters of the Jedi Order, housing the Council and its Grandmaster.

This was his first introduction to the Jedi Order, when the aged Master was but a small child, rescued from a life of pain and suffering by the woman who would become not only his mentor, but later his adoptive mother. To him, this planet held naught but good memories. Having to witness the tragic state of such a sacred site as Thurion descended the ramp alongside Coren and his wife Celeste, was nothing short of heartbreaking.

Coren took the lead, befitting the man that had brought this particular group together. Thurion was glad to play a supporting role for the time being, knowing he would have his hands full upon his return home.

As the party set out for the Ruined Temple, he sensed that all-too familiar bond between husband and wife watching Coren and Celeste interact. Thoughts briefly turned to Coci, who he missed terribly but was ultimately glad that he'd requested she remain at home for this occasion. He was not going to risk losing her now, not when they had their golden years to look forward to.

"Don't you worry," he sidled up to Celeste, hand upon her shoulder. "If it comes down to it, I'll drag Coren kicking and screaming onboard that shuttle. You're both going home together, I swear it."

There were so many presences in the Force on this one world that to the untrained it could come across as deafening, just the sheer amount of energy gathered on one battlefield. Each Jedi drew upon the strength of others, through cooperation and unity, in stark contrast to the Sith and their philosophy of empowering only themselves. It appeared everyone that had even the slightest of stake in this fight had shown up, but none had more to lose than the Jedi. No Concord, no Alliance, no Empire. Just Jedi. They were all the same in the eyes of the Force.

"Might wanna summon that old warroior spirit you've been suppressing, Coren," Thurion walked beside one of the few remaining friends he had left, eyes set on the horizon and the sky filling up with traffic. "I have a feeling the way of the pacifist isn't gonna cut it this time..."

This was a march to war. Ahead lie cataclysm, destruction, ruination. Annihilation. One last time the old Lion would be bathed in the fires of war, before he could finally lay down his lightsaber and earn that peaceful life he'd promised himself for so long.

 

[Jacen Nimdok]

Kaleth Temple Outskirts, Tython
Tags: Vector Monk

“Well, that was some adventure,” Nimdok said upon re-emerging from the ancient underground tomb. They’d encountered traps, puzzles, frescoes, a sarcophagus, and some sort of Force-imbued spindle—quite an unusual experience, even by Nimdok’s seasoned standards. Reaching down to help his smaller companion out of the hole, he asked, “You all right?”

Rhiannon Dinn grabbed his hand and allowed herself to be hoisted onto ground level. “I’m fine,” she said, with a toss of her long blonde hair that sent bits of dust and dirt flying. “But it looks like this planet is in trouble.”

Nimdok followed her gaze, tilting his head back to look at the sky. It was filled with fleets of starships. “I take it those flashes aren’t just a pretty lightshow,” he muttered, watching the vessels exchange fire. “You had better get out of here. Do you have a ship?”

“Yes, but—” She clenched her teeth. “I’ve been in situations like this before. It’s not… pretty.”

Despite the mundanity of her choice of words, there was a world of meaning in her tone. Nimdok patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. “Come on, I’ll escort you.”

Nimdok and Rhiannon headed back to the archaeological site near the Kaleth Temple. Chaos had erupted as workers scrambled to pack up their tools, collect their droids, and evacuate. Bidding Rhiannon farewell, the professor strolled along the perimeter of the trenches, looking like he was in no hurry at all to leave.

"I thought you said you were retired!"

Miri's voice broke through the hum of engines and rattle of equipment. A slightly surprised Nimdok turned to find his daughter standing at the edge of the dig site, her hands balled into fists at her sides and her white teeth bared.

"I am," he replied calmly, hoping to soothe her. "This is just a hobby. Something I love doing too much to stop.”

She shook her head vigorously. “You said you wouldn’t do this anymore. You said you wouldn’t put Jacen through the things you put me through, that you would stay home and do your research from the comfort and safety of a desk—”

He held up his hands to stop her. “Please, please. Don’t be angry with me. This was my choice. This world is so rich in history, and so much of it remains undiscovered—yet in a very short time, it may all be destroyed. Now, don’t you see the travesty in that? Can’t you see how it would be a crime for me not to try and preserve what I can?”

“How? How are you going to fight the Maw? They want to destroy the entire planet, just like they did to Csilla!”

She was nearly in hysterics. Nimdok swiftly swept his daughter into a warm embrace, seeking to soothe her. “I must go where I am needed. Now, you’re welcome to stay and help me fight to preserve this planet’s history—or you can leave. I won’t judge you for it. But I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re so stubborn,” she grumbled against his shoulder. “I’ll stay.”

“Brave girl. Or should I say brave young woman?” The sound of a shuttle descending close by drew his attention. It was a Mawite vessel. “We have visitors. Shall we go and greet them?”

 

[Damsy Callat]

I know you thinkin' that you're gonna come defeat me |
To be honest, man, you probably really need me |

Objective: III ~ Head of the Snake
Allegiance: GA / NJO allies
Location: en route to Akar Kesh
Tag: Judah Lesan
(wtheck, ur so mean)
​

"You're here to stop the Maw, aren't you?"

It was Damsy's turn to scoff, though she did sling her trident-saber over her back. "I sure ain't here to stop you."

You're not worth our effort, little Massster, Syreni husked to both Damsy and Judah.

"But if you wanna waste more of our collective save-the-world time," the siren added, "go for it." Anger was still wafting from her like, to him, death; to her, a life she had only just begun to live. In fact, before he could respond, she clicked her tongue and continued sharply, "Ya know what? You stay here an' terrorize that there statue." She motioned to the cracked, carved humanoid figure towering behind him. "I'll go play peacekeeper."

With that, she turned, ready to set off in the way she had came.

 

[Trinity Harris]

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

​

Location: Approaching Tython whilst cloaked
Objective: Scientific protection missions
Tags: OPEN but not for PVP

Spoiler: Equipment and links

Weapon: HH38 Geysa Hybrid Pistol
Vibrokukri
Riding: Phantom
Accompanied by: Plushee Companion Droid
Wearing:
Hersir Imperial Uniform
Guardema Bio-suit
OPBC-01e
Ship: 2 x Carrack Class Science Vessel 1 military support and 2 storage mission pods
ENS Mihaly and ENS Prosperity

The ENS Mihaly swept through the outer system quickly with its advanced cloaking device running and prepared to breech the blockade. Dr. Harris had clearance to cross the blockade but would rather noone other than her own side knew she was here so was running dark. Not far behind her was the ENS Prosperity flying close and also cloaked. "Pilot, keep us close to Imperial vessels in the blockade, if someone pings us, I would rather I be one of Aximand Sicarus ships than anyone else." The chances of someone breaching the cloak was tiny, but not zero so she would still take care. Having to run from a gun fight put the mission at risk. She watched out the viewport as her ship closely passed a star destroyer on its port side. Eleena Salwa would be proud of her today, her first senior command mission and damn she felt the part, the nerves she expected to have today had not arrived at all.

Their mission was simple in principle, descend to the planet, enter a small complex that was uncovered by seismic activity a decade or two ago, subdue the guardians, Trinity disliked that bit, and put the rumoured data repository into protective Imperial Custody, until a time it could be returned to Tython. During this undisclosed time, the Imperials would study the data and attempt to make copies to ensure it was preserved and that any useful mysteries or technology could be understood. The current guardians kept the place as a site of historic significance but were not interested in the thirty thousand year old data banks. It may be nothing of value to the Empire, but the preservation of foundation was the basis on which all science stood upon, so it had to be done and whilst it was within her authority to commission the expedition she would do it.

And who knows, the treasure kept by other ancient civilisations paved the way for massive scientific leaps in the past, there could be a single file, somewhere in there that could do the same today.

"Prosperity, this is Harris, please land at the following coordinates and begin searching in this grid pattern, I will take the Mihaly... here. Please check in at hourly intervals as discussed."

"Understood Overseer, good luck down there." came the response as the sister adjusted its course slightly and both ships entered then planet's atmosphere.

 

[Darth Libertas]

Allies: Theoretically Maw
Enemies: Coren Starchaser (Engaging), Celeste Rigel (in vicinity), GA/NIO people.
Location: Somewhere near Kaleth

Tython. Home of the Je'daii, and by extension the Jedi Order. Now a war zone. Potentially doomed to be destroyed so that the latest of many pretenders to the role of Sith'ari could achieve apotheosis. The Twi'lek had little truck with such pseudo-messianic delusions as she stared out into the ruins.

The sky was being lit by missile fire and laser beams as anti-air batteries unloaded upon Mawite transports. Debris was hurled into the air when a bomb impacted, causing a building to crumble. Scarlet beams lanced through the sky, and here and there bolts of lightning flashed upon the horizon. The ground trembled ever so slightly, as if struck by quakes. As if the planet itself was making its displeasure at the clash of Ashla and Bogan known.

"You know," Libertas remarked in Basic with a distinct Twi'leki twang, "it's ironic to see Jedi and Sith fight with such fervour over a world when their mere presence causes natural disasters on it. As delusional as the Je'daii were, I suppose they were right when they decided Light and Dark would bring doom to their 'paradise'. Of course...if they'd actually stood for something, they wouldn't have gone under. Still, it is bizarre that Jedi have had a base on Tython for centuries. Did such calamities just...not happen for centuries?" she asked rhetorically and shrugged her heavy shoulders. Maybe Phylis Alince could write a book about this phenomenon, assuming she was not busy obsessing over levitation in the pre-Tythonian period.
"Considering the way the Jedi do things I'm not surprised that they were this foolish and careless. If this is their holy world, they deserve to have it turned to ash...after all the worlds they left in ruin and denied responsibility for," a Selkath opined, her voice filled with pure contempt. The aquatic alien was dressed in Sith apparel and light armour, a lightsabre at her side.

"It does have a certain...poetry to it," Libertas replied. "Our work's almost complete, but not quite. An extra day of uninterrupted work would've been ideal...but we shall adjust. But let the Mawite fanatics do the lion's share of the fighting." The Twi'lek was clad in heavy armour, her lekku tucked into a helmet that had been elongated specifically to accommodate her headtails. Her sword was sheathed, and carried alongside a crossguard lightsabre that was attached to her belt. A pair of sidearms, wrist weapons, grenades and the like completed the set.

The ground beneath her boots shook. It felt like a gentle bump followed several seconds later by a stronger rolling shaking. A nearby pillar trembled, and windows rattled. At the moment, the tremors were still weak, all things considered. But they would build up and grow in intensity. Until finally, there was cataclysm. "I wonder what this will be on the Richter scale."

Nur Jahan was near-silent when she manifested at her side. "A Jedi ship has been sighted, Master," the Mon Calamari reported without preamble. Silver Jedi transport. At least two Masters, some minions. They are en route."
"Then let us go out and meet them. It would be rude not to. Gather the party, apprentice."

 

[Kai Bamarri]

A field on Tython
Tags: Surea Amani Serys

Situated high up in a tree, Kai squinted, trying to make out a figure off in the distance. Crossing a green field, the figure was somehow causing the grass to turn red with their touch. It was almost assuredly a Sith, given the whole invasion currently going on, and the young Bamarri was looking to chart a course of attack.

The branch he was perched upon suddenly buckled underneath his weight. Kai teetered, losing his balance. As he began to fall, he reached up to stretch his arm and grab onto another branch—and then remembered he was no longer a Sith Doppelganger.

Kai toppled out of the tree, hitting every other branch on the way down before landing with a thud upon the ground. Groaning, he sat up and pulled leaves from his hair. He still hadn’t gotten used to the limits of his new body.

The circumstances by which he had wound up in the scrawny corpse of a homeless teenage boy were… complicated. He still didn’t know what the kid’s name was, only that he had died of a drug overdose at around the same time Kai’s essence had been extracted from his Sithspawn body and abandoned to fade back into the Force. Things hadn’t turned out the way he’d planned, to say the least, and he hadn’t had his pick of hosts to inhabit.

But shedding his old corrupted skin had its benefits. Closing his eyes, he opened himself to the Force, and found it no longer so dark and miserable.

It was hard for some to focus on Tython right now, what with all the natural disasters plaguing the planet due to the presence of so many differing Force Users. But the Bamarri, born of lightning and thunder, was in his element. He conjured up a storm and sent it toward his foe.

Clambering to his feet, he exited the forest and stood at the edge of the field. A dark cloud was forming over the head of the one called Surea, following her every move. Lightning forked through the ether, followed by the delayed roar of thunder, and then a downpour of rain erupted from the heavens and dumped directly onto the rotten girl.

 

[Judah Lesan]

.

Wearing: xxx
Weapon: xxx x2
Allies: Defenders
Engaging: Damsy Callat

Okay so this one had a little bit of an attitude, as deserved as it might be, it had been an honest mistake. After all, Judah was there to stop Sith and she was… helping or not… still a Sith. The mere fact she was not trying to kill him was a curiosity he had not even begun to come close to finish exploring.

Of course when she pointed to the statue he looked up like a gullible goofball. Even at his age Judah could sometimes find himself distracted. By the time he turned back, she was already heading toward the tower.

“Yo… hey now. That’s about as not cool as me almost killing you. You have got to admit that considering I came here to stop Sith…”

“Shut up Judah,” he thought to himself before he could continue. It was really not going to help him in this situation.

“Look, if you are here to help, then c’mon. If you keep going that way they will see you coming a mile off.”

Judah moved back around the statue she had been pointing at. It was the shadow in him, but he could never let himself stay out in plain sight for too long if he was not fighting. Even then he often found ways to use the shadows to his advantage. It was a fine line that the Jedi walked. Despite his commitment to the light, Judah used its absence when he needed to.

“Never take the open path. Always stay out of sight.”

He could feel them. They were getting closer with every step. Even from their position the tower came into view. Six months ago, Judah would have taken his time to enjoy the ruins, see what there was to be seen, instead he was following the ilk the wound in the force was leaving behind. He would reach out to his allies later, when he was close enough to sense them. For now he was concerned that the blanket of darkness would be too thick to reach them.

Judau took in a deep breath.

“We are much closer. Try to find the rest of the Alliance or the Jedi. There is a plan, or something.”

Judah really needed to pay more attention in meetings.​

 

[Laoth]

Equipment: Laoth's Cybernetic Body
Post Tags: Ishida Ashina | Bernard
Location: Tython

Dark Deeds of the Light​

---

“Naith’a! Naith’a, you have to come and see!”

It was a voice known to him. Happy to hear. Sweet, soft as silk, smooth as honey, caring like the blanket of a cold jungle night. His fleshless lips smiled, knowing who it was in the deepest pits of his brain. But he did nothing to respond to it. After all, it was just a figment of his torture. A reaction of his brain to keep himself occupied as his eyes remained fixedly shut in the attempt to ignore his descent towards death or vegetation. Why react to it?

It repeated itself twice. Each time becoming more and more desperate and demanding, yet retaining the sweetness of tone. He tried his best to just relish the joy of hearing it once more after so long. But then it grew sad and began to vanish as if the person saying it was walking away with hunched shoulders. Laoth finally groaned and shifted in place, expecting to find himself still bound. He opened his eyes to the unlight of memory when he found that he wasn’t. Wherever his mind had taken him as the mechanists and doctors of his prison performed their dark deeds upon his form, it was a vast chasm of nothing and everything. Sounds of old thundered in his head and sensations new pricked at his metallic body. He lifted his hands from the nothing below him and brought them up before his eyes. Metal? No…fleshy. Pale red and young, unmarred by battle and only slightly stained with dirt.

He sat up as the shock of it took hold, and he saw that his legs, his stomach, and his chest had all been reformed into an old relic of life. He rose to his feet in anguished confusion. No memory he had ever recalled was ever this lucid or detailed. Voices, faces, moments. Yes, those who could recall with accuracy, but he was never truly a part of it. Not in the sense that he was controlling himself. Laoth stumbled through the unlight surrounding him, his sternum pounding from the hard pumps of his heart. His breaths were shallow, his vision hazy, but his mind was afflicted with terrifying clarity.

“Where am I?” he called out, taking a few steps forward in a tentative fashion. He knew the voice as if he had spoken to its source just yesterday. “Where am I? Sen? Sen, where are you?”

“You and I are home, tkiv'b duaklou,” Sen responded from the veil of unlight blinding Laoth’s vision into a haze. “Don’t you remember what it looks like?”

In a second, the chasm exploded apart to reveal a clearing centered in a wide stretch of green canopies, towering stalks of trees, and lush varieties of berries and plants. Laoth fell to his backside in surprise and yelped as he felt the crust of dirt and sharp blades of grass cut into his palms. He brought his hands up again and saw specks of rock denting his flesh. With an annoyed growl, he brushed clean his palms and stood up once more, scanning the edges of the clearing for the source of the voice he knew.

“Sen, where are you?” he asked again, this time producing the known tenor of a Sith and not a confused boy. “I demand that you show yourself.”

No response came to him for the longest time. Animals chirped in the distance, insects cricketing and groaning through realms unseen by the mortal eye. Laoth grunted and stepped forward towards the north of the clearing, choosing a direction at random, only to stop at the sharp sensation of a rock hitting his head. He turned and saw the ethereal image of Sen standing with her hands on her hips and a disappointed grin on her face.

“No, tkiv'b,” she said. “This way.”

She ran off to the south, and Laoth gave chase following a cut-off plea for her to not move. Through thick, dense coverage of the jungle, Laoth sprinted after her with a speed manageable only by his mechanical body. He should have taken this as an indication that all was not right here, but he gave little thought to it. He had not seen Sen in centuries, not since he was betrayed by his own people and given to the Jedi for entombment. She had wept as he was carried off in chains, the bodies of his spouses dead at his feet. Sith…some of the first Sith to be publicly active on Devaron…killed by his hand for their part in betraying him. What had they hoped for their crimes beyond death? Had the Jedi learned of them from his people, they too would have been captured and imprisoned for all time.

“Sen, wait up!” he cried out, doing his best to keep his eyes on her fading image through the shrubbery and stalks. “Sen, wait!”

“Come on, tkiv'b! You have to see this!”

He ran and ran and ran for kilometers through that jungle. Trampling animals, crushing plants, and smushing berries under heels. Nothing would stop him in his rampage of motion. Nothing except the end of his path: a cliffside that he nearly toppled himself over as he slid to a stop and fell to his back to grab the dirt. The treeline had come upon him swiftly and he had broken through its barrier far too easily, but he had stopped and now sat with legs dangling over the edge of a stone cliff. What he saw nearly drove him to wrathful tears.

Home. His home, not the pits of the Brotherhood’s machines of war. Not the dark depths of whatever world was conquered and burned. No…Devaron. His home. His village. His people. Tears welled in his eyes and the sounds of nature crisped to humming in his ears, deafening him to the approach of Sen. He turned to her as she sat down next to him, arms crossed on her knees and her eyes alight with joy at seeing him.

“Told you that you had to see it,” she said through her smile. “It’s been far too long since you’ve been here.”

He said nothing for a long time and soaked in the images of the vast endlessness of nature and villages and even some modern towns in the far distance holding the arrival and departure of ships. Then he asked: “Does it still look like this?”

“Of course not,” Sen replied, throwing herself softly to lay down on her back, hands supporting her head like a pillow. “Or maybe it does. How would I know?”

Laoth snorted, “You live here.”

“But I’m also dead, duaklou. I died a long time ago.”

“...How did you die?” his voice had taken a somber tone as it hit him. She was dead, no matter the secrets of whatever this vision was. She was dead and he was not. Was that fair?

She thought about it and then said: “Peacefully, surrounded by my family. Your nieces and nephews, and the rest.”

“Is that the truth?”

“It’s the truth you want to hear. The truth that makes this easier for you.”

“…Why am I here, Sen? Why am I seeing this now? Not the other times I was dying since I broke free of my entombment.”

“I chose this place because it would invoke the proper emotions in you, you dreary shlock-head. Plus, you were busy dealing with Father,” she replied honestly, clicking her tongue as a gleaming silver flock of winged creatures soared over them. “I could never get a word in edgewise with that old bastard, and it took you a while to understand his cryptic dirrtl'k. Plus, you just happen to be at the right place now.”

Laoth looked at her with furrowed brows, “What do you mean…the right place?”

“Tython, of course. You have its strength flowing through you, duaklou. Gives me the chance to talk to you finally.”

“I am severed from the Force, Sen. You’re just a memory. I don't even know why I'm talking to you like this.”

Sen shot up into a seated position and waved her hand to silence him, “I’m not just a memory, you aettlaro. At least, not how you think I am. I’ve been here for a long time. Tython’s just giving me the chance to talk to you is all.”

Laoth shook his head and laughed, “Let’s assume that’s real…what can I do, Sen? I am-”

Sen smacked the back of his head with a grunt and shoved his face in the same breath, nearly pushing him off the edge of the cliff. He did not react beyond a small sigh of annoyance. “Yeah, severed from the Force, I got it,” she grumbled. “Sure, you have all those drugs and whatever locking you down on that table, but you are still Devaronian. Hornless, burnt, crippled without your cybernetics…yeah, but you are still one of us. No matter the injuries or shackles, you are Devaronian, and we are built tough and adaptable. For 27,876 years, we have explored the galaxy to its fullest and built ourselves up as one of the dominant species. And we did it without the Force guiding our lives.”

“So what, you’re saying I just rip myself free?”

Sen barely nodded but her smile was as bright as ever, “You are strong, Naith’a. I promise you. You just have to fight, okay? Make the old bastard…make our home…proud. Fight, and I’ll see you again. I want to know if Devaron still looks like this too.”

---

Laoth blinked and found himself in the operating room once again. No doctors or mechanists were glaring down at him, scalpels or needles in hand. Instead, much to his surprise, he saw the glowing yellow eyes and horned red face of his Iktochi apprentice. Onnis Ve. Black Steel.

“Welcome back, master,” he rumbled. “I was worried they had broken you.”

Laoth said nothing and found himself capable of moving his arms as he shifted on the table. Bindings had been cut in half by a lightsaber, injectors and pumping machines disconnected and the nullification field deactivated. Yet, he still felt just as weak as he attempted to sit up. Even with the supportive hand of Onnis Ve pressing him up, he barely succeeded. After stabilizing himself on the table, he let out a gurgling noise and belched out a horrific distasteful amount of blue liquid which had curdled into sludge and slime. It fell from his fleshless lips onto his lap and table, some rolling off the edge to splatter on the floor where, upon finally looking down at it, Laoth saw the headless corpses of two of the mechanists and doctors.

“We used the cover of the war to break in, Master, but it wasn’t enough to go as smoothly as Empress Teta,” Onnis Ve began to explain. “Nearly one hundred of us lay assault upon this place, but the mystics of Tython have…done something to it. The Force is almost absent here and…mind has been shifting into darkness bordering on madness. Only two dozen, roughly, remain. You included.”

Laoth nodded in a ghost of motion and rotated on the table so that his legs hung over the edge. He slid forward onto his feet and fell to his knees, slamming his hands onto the corpse of one of the dead men to brace himself. Onnis Ve jogged over to him and helped him back up, his concern and care aggravatingly against what Laoth had taught him. But now was not the time for reprimands.

“How did…you find me?” Laoth rasped through his vox unit, which had activated itself automatically. “We were…separated on Empress…Teta.”

“Something…someone…called me here, Master,” Onnis Ve replied with clear befuddlement. “A…woman…she was concerned, though I could not see her. She told me to come here and save you. I was prepared to abandon you to your fate as is the Sith way if the Master is weak…but I found myself incapable of doing so.”

Laoth’s mind briefly flashed to the smiling face of Sen and a shock of terror filled him. Was it just a memory? “We must leave this place,” he hissed. “Where are the others? The survivors?”

“Fighting, Master. The guardians of this place are a hardy bunch, and we are quite deep in the prison’s wards. We must find you a weapon so that you may defend yourself against them.”

Laoth nodded and, with Onnis Ve’s assistance, began to move.