Invasion Technologic | SO Invasion of GA Held Woostri - Objective One

[Caelan Valoren]

No, it would never come with ease. He had not expected that it would. Ease was for things not worth doing. Difficult were the things most important to be done in life, such as defending those that counted on you to protect them.

"Fate, record," he said into his transmitter.

She launched herself at him, blade coming for a slash, and he changed his strike to a parry by rolling his wrist around and inward towards himself, down, and then out towards her, knocking her blade away such that it did nothing but clash harmlessly with his saber. It seemed they were fitted for a true duel of blades, something he had rarely experienced outside of training because so many seemed intent on less honorable tactics. He could admire that about her if she stuck to it, even if he disagreed with what she was there to do.

He skidded to a stop and redirected himself back towards her, blade coming around for a slashing strike meant to go from her shoulder to navel. His off hand remained poised to do whatever it might need in response to her actions. Single bladed, one-handed combat allowed for a lot more. Part of him wished he had some sort of shield that he could utilize in conjunction with his saber. Something he might need to look into when this was all over.

Nearby, and tucked into the shadows, Fate was recording the battle from his perspective. He would analyze what he saw, as previously instructed, for Caelan's use, but also retain the recording so that Caelan could study it when this was all over. There was much to be learned from one's own battles. Whether a win or a loss it mattered little. They all served as learning opportunities.

---

ATTIRE: Link | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace)

TAGS: Lirka Ka ​

 

[Zanami]

TECHNOLOGIC

"The Key to Joy is Disobedience"
- Aleister Crowley -

Gear: In Sig
Ally: Domina Prime
Enemy: Kuhbee / Aadihr Lidos

"Yes my Lord, for the glory of the Sith," the creepy, yet sweet and innocent voice of Zanami replied taking her leave of Darth Malum of House Marr . She passed by two of the Lord's kin, Sophia of House Marr and Elise of House Marr , on her way to the bridge's exit, flashing them both an ingenuous grin; one second bright as the sun, the next second dark as a sealed tomb.

"He spoke her name, did you hear," she asked the interlopers in her attic the moment she left the bridge, out of ear shot of anyone that mattered. Zanami could feel the anger growing inside her, fighting back the need to lash out. "Relax child," came the voice of reason, "Restrain yourself, embrace patience. What is rightfully owed to you will be yours one day." Zanami hated to admit the voice of reason was right, but how much longer would she, must she wait? Thankfully, that voice knew restraint as well, for Zanami didn't need that persona to take the reins on the cusp of extinguishing the lights of Jedi.

Muttering disordered words, sentences that made no sense to prying ears, whilst she walked down to the staging area pushed crew and other non-military personnel from her path, allowing for the unstable teenaged girl a wide berth. Zanami was aware of the others, and though she held no decorated rank such as Knight or Lord, she was amused by it all. From time to time, when she passed by a group, she would cock her head to the left, her eyes gazing them up and down; confused as to why they risked forming friendships when death would surely claim them one day. Mourn them when they passed, forget them in time. People were strange.

Zanami, the spooky little Sithspawn, finally arrived in the staging area, taking her spot amongst a group of Sith soldiers, calculating in her fractured mind how many would not be returning to loved ones? She chuffed at the thought of loved ones, or even family; she was estranged from her 'parents'. Now discarding such radical reflections, she began crouching down whilst retrieving the hinged wolf mask, a homage to that big puppy Rieka she once met, that dangled on her waist belt. Placing the mask on, the two cybernetic implants ported in the mask attached themselves to the temples of her head, activating immediately.

And as the doors opened, and the ramp dropped down; Zanami shot out on all fours, running like a savage beast aided by her genetically engineered speed toward her hunting grounds. With every galloping step, led by her arms, followed by her legs, the change began to overtake her; the eyes, it always starts with the eyes.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Ease grew complacency. Ease let the body wither and allowed the disease of weakness take hold within your being, and Lirka was not weak. She was the Strong, and the Strong killed, they butchered, they dominated. Such was their way, such was the great task of inflicting their wrath upon this pitiful world.

As her blade was parried aside, all Lirka could do was let out a joyous laugh of murderous anticipation. It thundered through the room, a mechanical thing amplified by the systems inside of her helmet: she was enjoying herself, evidently. It was unfortunate that Caelan Valoren believed there would be something resembling honor in their clash of blades. Honor was not the way of the Strong. He may have not tasted the clash of blades, but Lirka had been fighting in these traditional ways for almost a century. This was her element.

Through her laughter, Lirka still found time to speak: there was nothing the Once-Sephi loved more than to hear the sound of her own voice.

"The arrogance of Jedi, boundless. So hopelessly you stand against the tide, stand against the will of Primordial Darkness. As we clash, this world burns. How many lives will you fail to protect? How many souls snuffed out because you too weak?"

Taunting, endless taunting. To stick the metaphorical knife under the skin and see just how frustrated she could get any light-siders unfortunate enough to cross paths with her. As he readjusted to clash again, she followed, Lirka danced on her feet as if she was near-weightless rather than some lumbering metal brute. This armor was her second skin, an extension of her very being. Two shiny warriors of steel clashing, one of defending light, one of all-consuming dark.

As his slash lashed out, Lirka's machete raised to respond: pushing out against his saber to leave it only clashing against the metal of her shoulderpad and the songsteel of her blade. Another laugh as her fist launched out, aiming for the man's gut in an attempt to quickly knock the wind out of him: servos whirring as she put all of her foul mechanized strength behind the blow.

Had Lirka known she was being recorded, she'd be utterly elated. At her heart, she was a show-woman, and what better show then reminding the Jedi just how hopeless their meager and cancerous existence was?

"Give up, Jedi. The Dark is here, embrace its loving touch or be washed away."

That was the boon of fighting so long: it meant Lirka would never just shut up, her body moved on instinct alone.

 

[Valery Noble]

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Lightsabers

The battle raged, chaos thrumming through the facility like a living thing. Valery moved with lethal grace, violet light carving through the dark tide of Sith troopers like wildfire, her every motion precise, efficient, relentless. She had fought in more wars than she cared to count — this was just another battle. Just another battlefield.

Until it wasn't. She felt it before she saw it. Kahlil faltered. It was only for a heartbeat, but through their Dyad, she felt the sudden pull, the brief moment of hesitation that sank into his chest. He wasn't supposed to hesitate. They never hesitated.

Her body moved before her mind could even process why. One second, she was cutting down another trooper, the next — she was in front of him. A shield, a barrier, standing between him and whatever threat lurked in the distance. Her lightsaber flicked up defensively, her stance wide, firm. Her presence in the Force surged like an anchor, steadying him before the moment could stretch too long.

"I've got you." Her voice didn't need to say it. He felt it. Then — the shift. The soldiers had been nothing. Easy. Predictable. But this — this was different. A crimson blade burned through the blast doors ahead, slicing through durasteel with brutal efficiency. The molten glow illuminated the figure beyond, tall, imposing — a predator carving his way through to them with deliberate, unshakable purpose. Gerwald Lechner. The Dread Wolf.

Valery's fingers tightened around her hilt.

"Lay your weapon down and leave, Valery Noble. It is the only time I will be making this offer."

A pause. A slow breath. Then—

Valery smirked.

"Funny," she mused, stepping forward slightly, the violet glow of her blade painting her in eerie light. "I was about to offer you the same." She didn't need to look at Kahlil to know he was already at her side, just as unwavering. Together, they were unbreakable. The tension in the air thickened — and then it broke. A shift. A ripple.

And a presence she hadn't felt in years.

Valery turned her head slightly, and there she was. Allyson Locke . Her breath caught — not in shock, but something else. Memories flickered at the edges of her mind. A different time. A different war. A different Allyson. Valery had trusted her. Had followed her into the depths of the underworld, had learned from her, had fought beside her with seamless coordination. And now — here she stood, bow drawn.

Valery's heart clenched for just a second. But she couldn't. She wouldn't. Her lightsaber shifted, raised slightly — not aggressively, but cautiously. She wasn't lowering her guard for anyone.

"I can't."

Her voice was steady, unreadable. But through the Force, through their Dyad, she echoed a silent message to Kahlil. A quiet warning. A plea. Be careful. She wanted to believe Allyson. Wanted to trust that old instinct, that old bond. But she wouldn't risk him. Wouldn't risk herself. Not again. Her gaze flicked toward Allyson, searching. Hoping.

"But we can fight him together." Her voice softened, just barely. "Like we did before. Let's stop this bloodshed, Allyson — together." The past couldn't be rewritten.

But maybe, just maybe, they could change the present.

Kahlil Noble
Gerwald Lechner Allyson Locke ​

 

[Caelan Valoren]

In the midst of combat, a new feeling hit him. Iris Arani had initiated a battle meditation for all those in the system. He felt clearer of mind and focus, his intention set, his ability to comprehend his enemy clearer. He was more ready for this battle than he had ever been before.

Her spoken words bothered him little. When he was younger it would have provoked him greatly because he was brash and desirous of being the savior of all. But he knew, through experience, that it was impossible to save everyone. The goading? It meant nothing to him. People would die not because of him, but because of her and those like her. They brought death with them. The responsibility for it rested fully on their shoulders, not his. His part was merely to do what he could to stop them as quickly as possible, to lessen the damage they wrought.

She parried his blade to the point it barely touched her pauldron and was caught by her blade. Not unexpected. This one preferred close quarters combat, which suited him just fine, but he was certain they were also quite experienced in it. While she had him in age, which neither could particularly know considering both were fully armored, he made up for it in upbringing. A large part of his upbringing had hinged on royal traditions, of which swordsmanship had been an important part. His father had personally trained him in it. His master, Dreidi Xeraic , had trained him in it further.

Then she engaged where he was strongest, her fist aimed for his stomach. The echani gloves built into his guantlets further aided him through the battle meditation and he strengthened his hand as the free one reached out to grab at her arm and stop the strike from connecting. Caelan was a body mod specialist when it came to the Force. On top of that, he'd been trained by Connel Vanagor in Broken Gate and Azurine Varek in Iridonian martial arts. If she was going to throw hands, he was equally down for that.

"The dark exists everywhere," he responded, his voice calm, resolute, "but the light does not endure the dark — it challenges it, hunts it, and drives it into oblivion."

He pushed, then, with the lightsaber locked with her sword, trying to push it back towards her, and either get her to back away, or force the lightsaber blade to score into her armor.

---

ATTIRE: Link | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace)

TAGS: Lirka Ka ​

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka's words were like a knife, sloppily hacking and slashing to try and find whatever in they could. She was no skilled temptress, no siren singing the illustrious song of the Dark Side. She was angry, she was ravenous, an immature narcissistic brute that raged against the world for no reason other than she lacked the introspection to truly care about anyone but herself.

She fit right in with the Sith.

But would the sloppiness of her words ever slow her down? Never. They would understand, or they would die. That is what Primordial Dark had bid for her, all those years ago. There was an ironic humor in their clash, Lirka too had been a royal once, in ages past of a different time and a different face that she could only remember in hazy specters. Who had taken up the art of the blade upon Thustra, who had allowed her bloodlust to damn her for eternity. Caelan Valoren was honorable, true, a king of his people. Lirka Ka was a monster, a ravening madwoman who beckoned to dark masters and had bled her people dry to try and force them to see the Galaxy in her twisted and foul worldview.

A view gladly shared unprompted time and time again. Her suit whined as his hand grabbed onto her arm, mechanisms trying to force the strike to connect with no avail. But that didn't stop her from trying, to try and do the impossible: that is what Lirka so often thrashed to try and accomplish, the foolhardiness of madness. His blade lashed out, striking into Lirka's plates: there was give in the thick metal as molten slags spat out from the wound. A noise came out of her, perhaps one of masochistic pleasure. Pain coursed through her again, and so did she bellow out her foul philosophy as the stalwart words of the Jedi-King came to her.

"Primordial Dark is everything! It is the all-consuming void in which life trudges towards, it is what shall consume the Force, it is what shall consume life itself! Till the stars grow cold and the last lifeform withers to nothingness! It is the black hole in which not even light may escape its grasp! It is the End-Of-All-Things!"

Where Caelan had been resolute, Lirka's words were erratic and deranged. And her actions showed it, the wound seemed to give a new vitality to her wretched form as she swung her machete wildly: its purpose became clear as she hacked, and hacked, and hacked. A flurry of blows relentlessly hammering against the Jedi with no care for her own safety. Darkness bubbled within her, the foul powers of Darth Carnifex threatened to spill out of her like molten bile. Her flesh writhed, her eyes switched, the brand emblazed on the skin beneath her helmet burned as if it were aflame. The Dark compelled her forward, and she would make this boy bleed no matter the cost.

 

[Lunara Azure]

Location: Thranta Mothership [Unda da Sea]
Allies: Darth Malum of House Marr | Sophia of House Marr | Horus Rhyne | Trayze Tesar | Gerwald Lechner | Allyson Locke | Darth Meritum | Lirka Ka | Domina Prime
Enemies: GA - Open

---

"Well, that went about as well as the last time I saw my sister…though she's a Jedi so we have more of an excuse for fighting."

Or at least name calling and guilt-tripping, the two of them had yet to come to blows, though perhaps that was an inevitability. She couldn't say that it was the fate of all siblings to come to blows at some point, or to argue, but perhaps it was that wish to keep them near you, for them to have the life that you thought was best for them. That seemed to be Alina's thought at least, but the blonde had walked that path before and come away the poorer. She lost everything and in return, all the universe had given her in return was anger and despair. Somewhere out there, her sister was laughing and living her best life, and that was all the woman hoped for, she'd deal with the universe. The universe which had made one truth clear, all you could do was take what you wanted and hold onto it, cause people wouldn't help, they were just sheep who stood by and watched.

Let her sister enjoy living a life where she didn't have to worry about the dark, the dark was all Lunara had left, and she'd drown this planet in it.

"So, shall we follow your sister's lead then?"

A small smile toucher her lips as the woman's blue eyes flicked over to the retreating forms of Sophia and Horus as they pushed into the station. Her boots clattered against the deck of the mothership for a moment as she took a step back and offered Malum a half-bow, sweeping an arm to the side to gesture at the opening.

"The game's a foot, and it looks like we're falling behind in the race, and I hate coming in second."

 

[Caelan Valoren]

He had nearly forgotten that so many of the dark relied on pain to fuel them. Nearly. She quickly brought that reality back into his mind, only for it to be pushed away. Pain was a part of life. It didn't matter if she relied on it for strength because pain was a sensation that meant something was wrong. When something was wrong, your body inevitably had to do something about it. The more pain, the worse it was. It might give her momentary strength, but in the end, it only left her injured, her body weakened, forced to struggle against injury.

Her blade pulled away and he was forced to withdraw his to parry wild, abandoned slashes and hacks at his form. She sought any purchases she might find, and did indeed batter him with blows, managing a few nicks and scrapes through the lining of his armorweave in some of the softer spots. But her attacks were without coordination and precision. Without that, she had to rely on luck to strike a true blow, and he had the battle meditation on his side to read and counter her wildness.

Wildness was not fierceness, it was foolishness.

"Even the hungriest abyss cannot feast on the light forever," he replied. "Given time, even a black hole must yield to the fire it thought devoured."

Though she had tried to push through his grasp of her arm, she had failed to do so. In fact, he utilized her own movement against her and made to pull her towards him while deactivating his saber. The closeness would alleviate the effectiveness of her weapon without a strike that left her open through drawing her arms away from herself and leaving her vital sides exposed. Already he had seen her armor was not lightsaber proof. He'd slagged some of it into her, caused her injury.

"A storm may rage, but it is the steady hand that guides the blade. Chaos burns itself out—discipline endures."

He thumbed the activation switch of his blade, now pointed directly at her armpit, hoping to impale her from below. Her blade may not be good in close quarters, but the nature of a lightsaber made it still dangerous.

---

ATTIRE: Link | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace)

TAGS: Lirka Ka ​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | ???
| Objective | Not a dance, but a chase
| Focus | Serina Calis

Some insults were more easily forgotten than others.​

​

None more grave than the way Serina moved and thought within Jenn's domain, thinking herself protected by the baleful powers whispering horrid truths and seductive lies at the edge of one's consciousness. This was something besides and beyond the ancient and unending war between Light and Dark, something to do with the primordial elements that made the Galaxy a vibrant tapestry to be enjoyed. Saltwater, cosmos, and earth. And this poor, unfortunate soul thought herself... what, blessed by her chosen side, to be shielded from the whims of the great blue? That whatever her allegiance offered her in return for her service in this war would see her safe, now that she found herself within the Abyss?​

N a y c​

​

There was but one mistress of the depths here, and though she welcomed challenges, she had long since lost her ability to move past insults. Those made within her realm, even less so. The temptress had her chance on Vassek, and earned herself rapturous triumph through her ability to see through the hallowed star-metal covering the form of the Duchess, gazing into her very soul and whispering out her adoration of the woman long since committed to shaping herself into an ideal, a living legend. But today, the egotistical Dar'jetii would face something else than the Duchess, nor the Redeemer or even the Kryz'alor, but something... more.​

​

Today, she would face Jenn Kryze. And she would know just which of the two was predator, and which was prey.​

​

It started off simple enough, with a sharp reduction of the very sense of perception. The sounds made by those unlucky few who survived the initial depressurization, picked off by the some of the most elite amphibious commandos the Galaxy had seen in recent years... gone. Not merely from the great nothing surrounding Serina, but from her communications as well. So too did all pretense at light and visibility seem to dim, then vanish. There was only endless, inky darkness. A complete absence of light.​

​

Silence, and emptiness. What good was a tantalizing temptress, with none to listen to her? ​

​

"We exist together now. Two dancers, given the greatest stage one could possibly ask for."​

​

Jenn's voice was serene beauty, otherworldly grace, and ominous power all at once; the promise of a caress, of an elegant song, and an blood-sworn oath. Overtly dangerous, yet far too captivating to block out, to ignore. Even the wisest of mystics would find themselves struggling to shut out the full power of the siren's song, woven with each and every syllable she uttered... and Serina, though silver-tongued in her own right, was not wise.​

​

"But we are not... equals. Not here, if we ever were before. I am the waves and the tide; the melody and the singer alike. I am Ersansyr. And you, my sweet temptress, are nothing."​

​

Something brushed against Serina's leg, then. Fingertips trailing against her with the same forbidden sensuality she had been shown on Vassek? A billowing fin, slipping nimbly? Impossible to tell. By the time the blonde could turn and address the sudden shift, the Mandalorian (if she had even been here in the first place) was gone, laughing that crystalline, melodious laugh of hers. A sound that seemed to surround her, to echo from everywhere.​

​

"You read right through me on Vassek, little minnow, but I see clearly now; I know your fears as you learned of my desires. There is nobody to love you here. You are alone... without worshippers, friends, lovers. I wonder - would anyone mourn you, if I was to rip that rebreather from your pretty face? No. There would only be me, cupping your cheek as you drown. Your last embrace. All that you were ever worth."​

​

The siren's voice lacked true venom. Hers was a nonchalant sadism, almost tranquil. What use was there for spiteful anger within the abyssal depths? ​

​

There was no rush of energy, no shifting of the currents when Jenn swam by her once more, the only trace of her passage found in the way her nails sliced through fabric and skin, to let the temptress' blood seep into the cold water around her. ​

​

"But there is neither thrill nor glory in butchering you right away, though, is there? No, it would be over all too quickly. I will give you a chance, my little minnow. Keep on swimming; I won't be far behind..."​

​

And with those last few words whispered right against her ear, Jenn seemed to retreat, if only for a time. Some measure of vision was bestowed upon her prey once more, if only to guide her down to a small cave network sitting on the ocean floor. Large enough for a small team to swim through, but only just...​

​

 

[Gress D'ran]

Tag: Darth Malum of House Marr Jenn Kryze Aris Noble Aadihr Lidos Kuhbee
34th Hellstompers, 2nd Armor Company:​

Spoiler

• x7 Leviathan Above Water AA Platforms
  • Appetite for Destruction
  • Diver Down
  • Purple Rain
  • Raising Hell
  • Sign O' The Times
  • Ghost In The Machine
  • Pyromania
• x8 Krakana Subfighters
  • Speak Softly II
  • Divine Intervention
  • Rolling Thunder II
  • Apocalypse Now
  • Iron Side II
  • Heavy Machinery II
  • De-Escalator
  • Yellow Submarine
• x5 GAMA Jaguar Submarines
  
  • Leonardo
  • Donatello
  • Michelangelo
  • Raphael
  • April
  • Splinter
• x3 Squads of Marines
  
  • "Tsunami"
  • "Twister"
  • "Volcano"

Torpedos smashed into Jaguars, while the Krakanas used their superior speed to outrun them. It was a dance starfighter pilots would find familiar, yet still the men kept at it, deep beneath the waves. Krakanas blew past droid formations, leaving depth charges in their wake, before ascending upward and going for another pass.

One dared to try and stop the mothership attempting to crash into the base.

The captain of Apocalypse Now, normally a tanker, ordered a move that would normally be used out of desperation. But in this case, it was used for an offensive maneuver that would earn him respect within the rest of his unit.

"RAM THEM!" The Mon Calamari man shouted, as the pilot, coming back down from above, aimed the sharpened bow of the submarine right at the top of Malum's mothership, all the while firing torpedoes and blaster fire on it's way down.

Major Yanma had taught his men to be bold, and it he'd never thought it was going to lead to this.

Elsewhere, the Jaguars that survived the initial assaults' swung their cannons, firing on the torpedos that attempted to pierce the base. Their ability to reposition at a moment's notice kept them nimble, as their captains adjusted to the 360 environment.

Still, the words of their Major kept in their minds from training.

"Fortune favors the bold, soldiers. To act first, to strike first, is to control the flow of the battle. Allow yourself to remember that mentality on the battlefield!"

Still, the Base itself was not going undefended. As droids poured into the facility, they were men by the three squads of Hellstomper Marines. The men who had once held off a Trade Federation assault by themselves.

Now, they had prepped the hanger bay with a hail of ion bolts, simply waiting for the droids to enter before lighting them up with overlapping fields of fire.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Pain was life. To suffer told Lirka she was alive, that the clawing fingers of death had not finally gotten a grip around her wretched form and pulled her back into the abyss where she belonged. Her body writhed, the energy within hammering at her skull. She felt like a child again, battling with powers she barely understood. War made for an interesting testing ground for an abomination. And so did she flail like a child, throwing of her brutish strength behind her blows. Rage bubbled in her, the Brand compelled her to fight, it compelled her to kill in His name. It compelled her to prove herself.

To prove herself a fool.

With none of her attacks finding purchase, Lirka was forced to listen to the words of Caelan Valoren as she raged. The prattling of Jedi...her ager only grew. An inferno that threatened to consume her very being, her strikes grew more desperate. Tears dribbled down her face, things of black ooze, where was the power she had been promised? Had Carnifex tricked her? Was this brand on her head not a mark of kinship, but the mark of a slave? Her rage bubbled out in her words, the devotion of a zealot unable to admit their own faults.

"The light reveals fault, it shines to show every wrong of your being! The Dark does not judge, its inky love is eternal and cold! It merely consumes!"

He was right, her lack of discipline had made Lirka sloppy. As she raised to strike again, she saw his maneuver and tugged herself to the side: enough to at least prevent herself from dropping dead on the spot. The saber burned through her flesh, only paused by the plundered Beskar-alloy of her shoulerpads. The pain burned through her entire being, and Lirka tore herself from his grip and stumble back. A wound that should've been cauterized leaked dark, goopy, ichor. Just what sort of monster was she? Her arm dangled at her side, barely still attached: thankfully the mechanisms of her armor at least kept her fingers gripped around the hilt of her blade. She huffed and panted, and she threw her back for a cry. Not at Caelan, but past him, to something incorporeal and distant.

"KAAAIIIINE!"

She cried out to her master, a mixture of rage and desperation. Tears of inky black streamed down her face. Lirka Ka did not know fear, but here, on Woostri, with her body bubbling and writhing with her arm nearly severed. She tasted fear on her lips, as if the claws of death were finally taking grasp around her foul being. But fear...fear was the path to the Dark Side.

With desperation in her hearts, the Dark power bestowed upon her by Darth Carnifex awoke within her. For a lifetime, Lirka Ka had been a void in the force, a repugnant beast that had been cut off from its touch and lived as a Force Dead freak, but now? Lirka felt something she hadn't felt in ages, she felt the Force. She felt the Dark Side within her being, not because of nature, but because of him. It swirled around her like a tempest, the force bubbling out of her being as the strength of a Lord poured out of her like bile. Flesh popped and writhed, and the meat of her injured arm wove itself like threads in a tapestry, just as Carnifex had melded his flesh when she had consumed him. It was misery. It was agony. But it reminded her of their bond, primal and pure. A marriage of flesh and blood.

As these dark energies surged, they manifested in her hand. The blackness of their evil formed itself into a weapon, into a strike. Darkshear, the spear of midnight black. Manifestation of the Dark Side, all of Lirka's hate channeled into it. Her hate for the Jedi, her hate for Carnifex, her hate for everything she had allowed herself to become. And she let it loose. A blast of the pure energies of the Dark Side loosed from her being at her foe, her vigor revitalized as Lirka let out that maddening, cackling, laugh once more.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Abyss Stares Back.
Location: ???
Objective: Autonomy
Allies: Darth Malum of House Marr | Horus Rhyne | Sophia of House Marr | Trayze Tesar | Lunara Azure | Gerwald Lechner | Darth Meritum | Allyson Locke | Lirka Ka | Domina Prime
Opposing Force: Jenn Kryze ​

The abyss was quiet.

That was the first horror.

Even the sea should have sung—even the depths should have throbbed with the rhythmic pulse of war, of engines, of the cries of the dying. Yet, here, there was nothing. No voices. No pain. No sound but the distant echo of her own heartbeat thrumming in her skull. She had lived her life weaving symphonies of desire and deception, yet now, now, she was alone in a silence so absolute it threatened to consume her.

Something had been taken from her.

The realization struck hard. Serina hated losing control. She was the one who whispered words that made warriors doubt themselves, who coiled around hearts and souls like silk-draped iron, who turned convictions into trembling need. She chose when to play, when to tease, when to conquer. She was the one who dictated the game.

But Jenn had taken the board, the pieces, the very game itself.

And in its place, she had left nothing but blackness.

It was not the darkness of a chamber in candlelight, nor the warm, comforting shadow of a secret rendezvous. It was the dark of deep space, the kind of empty that made a person understand, truly understand, how insignificant they were.

Serina’s limbs moved before her mind had fully grasped the scope of the terror that clawed at her chest. Slow at first, then faster, twisting in the water like a thing seeking the surface. Seeking light.

There was none.

Even her own glow was gone.

Her weapon, Ebon Requiem, should have pulsed with the eerie, liquid gleam of its etched symbols, yet now it was nothing but cold weight in her hands, a piece of steel adrift in endless black.

Jenn’s voice slid through the water like a phantom, stroking against her like the barest whisper of silk against bare skin.

"We exist together now. Two dancers, given the greatest stage one could possibly ask for."

Serina stilled.

The voice was all around her. Inside her.

She had heard voices like this before, spun them from her own lips, but never like this. It was not simply a voice. It was a presence, something wrapped in power so absolute it made the ocean itself feel secondary.

For the first time, she felt it.

The Abyss was hers.

Jenn did not simply move through the water—she was the water. Every shift of the current belonged to her. Every flicker of movement was dictated by her will. Every breath of silence was not absence, but presence.

Serina was not an intruder. She was not even an invader.

She was a trespasser, and Jenn was about to show her exactly what that meant.

"But we are not... equals. Not here, if we ever were before. I am the waves and the tide; the melody and the singer alike. I am Ersansyr. And you, my sweet temptress, are nothing."

Nothing.

That word struck deeper than any blade, deeper than any wound.

Serina had spent her life making herself into something. She had clawed her way from the meek, obedient girl she had been—ripping off the shackles of Jedi servitude, seizing power in every way that mattered. She had made herself into something divine.

And now, in this moment, in this place—

Jenn had stripped her bare.

A touch.

Something glided against her leg, impossibly soft, a phantom caress that sent a bolt of panic lancing through her gut.

Serina twisted sharply, kicking against the water in a frantic attempt to see. But there was nothing. Only laughter, crystalline and cruel, reverberating through the currents, seeping into her bones.

Then the voice again.

"You read right through me on Vassek, little minnow, but I see clearly now; I know your fears as you learned of my desires."

Serina’s fingers curled into a fist, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the haft of her halberd.

"There is nobody to love you here."

No.

"You are alone... without worshippers, friends, lovers."

No.

"I wonder—would anyone mourn you, if I was to rip that rebreather from your pretty face? No. There would only be me, cupping your cheek as you drown. Your last embrace. All that you were ever worth."

The abyss closed in.

Serina’s own thoughts turned on her.

She had always known she was alone. But hearing it like this—hearing it in Jenn’s voice, in a voice so certain—it ignited a fear unlike any she had ever known.

Jenn knew.

Jenn knew.

She had peered through the silk and honey, past the power and the seduction, and she had seen what lay beneath.

Serina Calis, alone.

She could not answer. Not with words. The rebreather stole her voice, silencing her in a way that felt humiliating.

For the first time in her life, she could not talk her way out of this.

Pain.

A razor-thin slice against her side.

A trail of warmth spread through the water as Jenn’s nails tore through the bodysuit, through flesh.

Serina’s breath caught sharply, a low, strangled sound escaping past the rebreather.

Not deep enough to wound.

Just enough to bleed.

Just enough to mock.

"But there is neither thrill nor glory in butchering you right away, though, is there? No, it would be over all too quickly. I will give you a chance, my little minnow. Keep on swimming; I won't be far behind..."

And then, vision.

The abyss eased, just enough for her to see again. Just enough for her to understand where Jenn wanted her to go.

The caves.

Serina hesitated for the briefest of moments, trembling fingers brushing against the slice in her suit. It was nothing. A shallow wound.

Then why was she shaking?

She had drawn so many into her web before. Knights, warriors, Jedi. She had reduced some of the greatest champions she had ever known into trembling, desperate things who whispered her name between clenched teeth.

No one had ever come back.

No one had ever faced her and been stronger than before.

Until now.

Jenn had returned.

And Jenn had taken everything.

A slow, ragged breath escaped her, muffled by the rebreather.

There was no choice.

Serina kicked forward, muscles coiling as she swam toward the caves, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, her halberd clenched tight in white-knuckled hands.

Jenn had thrown down the gauntlet.

Serina had no choice but to play her part.

But as she slipped into the yawning maw of the caves, she could not shake the feeling curling in her gut.

For the first time in her life, Serina Calis was no longer the predator.

She was the prey.

 

[Kuhbee]

It seemed like no time at all and the battle was upon them. In the distance he felt the darkness encroaching and soon they could see the enemy. Kuhbee had heard stories about the Sithspawn, terrifying creatures of the dark side. But hearing about them and seeing one up close were two different things. A terrifying sight was coming his way. To the young padawan it's presence felt twisted and broken with darkness and Kuhbee did not fully understand what he was feeling. All he knew was he had to be ready for the creature.

[Stop! We cannot let you pass! Please!] He howled, though he was not certain if any of those around would speak his language. He had to try didn't he? As a Jedi wasn't violence supposed to be a last resort? Or was he supposed to engage and not speak? His shoulders suddenly felt so small compared to the massive weight upon them.

The young padawan was about to learn what war truly was.

Zanami

 

[Darth Meritum]

Meritum was exhausted and soaked, groaning as he shook the earpiece. There was water in its audio channels, and it made listening to anyone more painful than useful. Drying the damned thing was about the only hope he had to let someone know he didn't actually die. A second later, its audio came back clearly, and he put it back as he trudged forward.​

​

" Gerwald Lechner ? Do you read me?", he said with a touch of desperation and concern that it wouldn't work. He hadn't bothered to check the microphone.​

​

"My transport was destroyed, along with my troops. More should be coming down soon. I'll make contact with them and make my way to the central command. The Emperor Protects."​

​

A quick sign off.​

​

He coughed up a bit more water before changing the channel to his own forces. They were likely breaching bulkheads now, and he only hoped they would make it in without too many casualities. The Woostrians were not known for being gentle when it came to invaders, and he could only imagine the carnage those men might see in the confines of a hallway blocked in by a Sith Officer and a gun turret.​

​

"Captain Harkin, have you made contact?", he called out. There was no answer. He tried again but to no avail.​

​

"3rd Cohort, how is the breach?"​

​

Silence. The damned Alliance and their torpedos. He wanted to squeeze something, watch it crumple in his hand, but with nothing but air he only balled his fist and picked up his pace.​

​

"5th Cohort, did you land?"​

​

There was static for a moment, and Meritum thought to try again before someone came back. Amidst the sound of blaster fire, explosions, and the calls of command, a familiar voice buzzed through the cacophony to find him;​

​

"Aye, Sir. Captain Tulun has fallen, command has fallen on me. We are at Bulkhead 1-0-8B." - the familiar buzz of interference and war - "... facing heavy resistance. Any chance you could help?"​

​

Meritum grinned as he looked around at the signage. He knew from the preliminary reports how to get where these men were - and he wouldn't be coming from the front. They wouldn't know he was coming, let alone stop him.​

​

"Aye, I can do that. Hold for a minute and I'll be there soon."​

​

And with that, the water logged Sith began to pick up speed, turn after turn. He was exhausted already, but he could push a bit further to make sure his men were able to get into this coffin. Better they took the control centers now for the top side. He only hoped Srina Talon and the others were making headway to the Archives.​

​

Braze Kai'el​

 

[Braze Kai'el]

TAGS: Darth Meritum

​

A presence stirred ahead.

Braze melted into the shadows of a support column, his small frame drawn tightly against the cold durasteel, shoulders tucked inward to match the angular protrusions of the structure. The air was thick with the scent of scorched metal and ozone, emergency lighting pulsing through the corridor like the distant heartbeat of a dying beast.

Footsteps. Steady, deliberate.

Chatter flickered from a comlink, muffled through the bulkhead ahead. A man's voice. Rough, edged with exertion. Braze stilled, ears attuned to the rhythm of speech, the careful cadence of someone who had just clawed their way back from the brink. His words carried strain but also certainty—he was rallying, regrouping.

Then—an answer. A crackling return over the comm. He was moving toward someone.

Braze exhaled slowly through his nose, pressing deeper into the alcove, his lungs drawing inward in the practiced discipline of breath control. His pulse slowed, his senses sharpened. The man's pace quickened, boots meeting durasteel in steady percussion, but his focus was forward—toward the battlefield, toward his allies. Toward where he thought the fight was.

Braze steeled himself.

A moment later, as the figure neared, Braze stepped out—swift, fluid, controlled.

All at once, as Braze stepped into the man's path, his fingers crushed the Egg in his palm, the brittle shell shattering with a muted crack. A plume of fine, glistening dust burst forth, and with a precise flick of the Force, he sent it surging forward, Force Wind coiling the cloud like a serpent unfurling in the dark. The dust bloomed outward, seeking flesh, seeping into breath, filling vision with nothing but choking haze.

At the same moment, the Circlet resting against his neck flared to life.

A blinding pulse of light erupted from the central gem, searing through the confined space like a miniature supernova. The raw, white-hot brilliance lanced outward, designed to overwhelm the senses—an assault on sight, a jarring intrusion of radiance against the darkened gloom.

He was important.

Braze could tell from the way his voice had carried over the comm, the weight of command woven into the words. Someone worth reinforcing. Someone worth protecting.

Someone worth stopping.

He had no intention of giving him the chance to recover as he surged forwards lashing out with both Requiem and Sentry alike.

Gear

Sabers:
Training lightsaber [Normal] |
Gauntlet Shield [Katar + Shield] |
Corsage [Dueling Foil +Gun] |
Calypso [Hand an a half + Board Saber] |
Sentry [Parrying Dagger] |
Requiem [Light Foil] |
Echo [Two handed with Crossguard] |
Resurgence [Two handed with Crossguard] |
Whirlwind [Chin Kama] |
Twilight [Polearm] |
Nightshade [Throwing Knives]
Hot 'n' Heavy Compensator [ War Maul]
Troublemaker's Trickblade [Dual Spinning Saber / Chakram]
Voice of the Wind Krysteel Sword

Crystals:
Amplification |
Serenity |
Phantom Ghostfire |
Frostheart |
Entropite |
Tiger's Fang |
Mindshatter |
Echos |
Mestare |
Melee: Knife

Ranged:
Fang |
G.O.O. Gun |
Phantom |
Chiru Tranquilizer Rifle|
FFS- Quiver Trigger - Grip / Stock |
FFS- I. S.P.Y. : Scope |
FFS- H.A.R.M. - Shroud

Thowing :
BA-K177 Kamino Saberdarts X15
E.G.G.S. x10 |
Thermal detonator (Class-A thermal detonator) x5 |
G-20 Glop grenade "Impact" x5 |
C-22 fragmentation grenade x5 |
WW-41 CryoBan grenade) X5
Telescopic stun grenade staff
Serenity Flashbang Incense


Equipped Gear:
Neck: Lightveil Circlet | Charms x3 | Amulate |
Chest: Light Armor [Integrated in to armor | Boots | Gauntlets | Mask/Helm | ]
Belt: FFS- Utility Belt
Left Hand: Compass Ring | BCA - Solid State Hologram Tool Band

Other Items:
Survival Kit |
FSP - Besh ( Advanced Force Suppression Drug )
Sil-Alert Stim
Trauma Care Package
Trauma Kit
Trauma Spray
Aspha Serum
TS-N Healing Serum (For those allergic to Bacta)
Reanimation Serum Aurek
PharmaTech BioStamp
PharmaTech DNA Identi-Kit
Bota M9-A2: Berries
FFS-RIP-Cell: Power Cell |
Vixen's Vault |
In the Zone Compact, Mister, and Lipstick|
Essence of Zeltros DUST Compact|
Lekkuphoira|
S.I.N. Devaronian Blood-Poison Nail Polish|
5 Lbs bag of Thermite |

Ships:
Ashwing - Starfighters
Phantomray Stealth Assault Interceptor Fitted with Werlaara Stealth Suite

Warmount:
Dragon Knight

Guardian:
AX-01 Vanguard Mark I
[Character Bio]

​

 

[Caelan Valoren]

The blade struck home, nearly removing the arm in its entirety. But instead of leaving a cauterized wound, as he had counted on, gobs of black goo were leaked out from within. This creature, whatever it was, was no longer what it had been. The being that had once inhabited a body of sinew and bone was replaced by a thing made of naught but darkness, filth, and ruin. Worse still, it seemed weak enough that it was forced to call on its master for power and strength in battle, something belying a pet, a sithspawn, a toy: a slave.

"You are not but a slave to another who uses you for their own end," he said, as he stepped back, disengaging while he watched the creature.

As he did, he could feel it. He didn't need the observation from Fate beeping in his ear to understand that energy was being called upon from elsewhere, that a connection was being utilized to another being. He could feel it. He could feel the power growing, coalescing in the good hand of the beast. A dark power was being called upon, something that would do great harm. The only defense he could think of was that of a protection bubble, and so he erected one around himself in preparation.

He felt it explode, heard it laugh. The bubble cracked, something cutting through it. It hit him and spun him to the side, his saber arm facing her. And he stood there for a moment, processing what had happened, and then turned.

And when he turned, the entirety of his left arm was just gone.

Blood spurted from an open wound, exposed metal from where his shoulder had been reconstructed after Tython. His helm focused on her, but inside his mind screamed until he reached inward and touched the bead he wore on a necklace with the Force. When he did, the wound ceased to spurt blood, closing itself up completely. He no longer had an arm, but he wasn't gushing his blood away from severed artery either. Still, his visor focused on her. Thank the Force for Azurine Varek and her precious gift.

"You are right that the light reveals fault. Let me show you."

Though his body raged at the missing limb, the pain of it, he shoved it all away. Bottled it up. Tossed it into the abyss. Lost it forever. The peace and serenity of the battle meditation once again took hold of his mind. Further, he delved into the connection to the crystal within his lightsaber. Mother, hear me now. Lend me your strength through our melded crystals that I might defeat this monstrosity of darkness. He lifted his good hand, recalling what Corazona von Ascania had taught him at the temple on Camaas about the light and its ability to purify.

Show them your strength, Caelan.

He drew from the meditation, from himself, from the life around him, and from his mother's own Force essence through their melded crystals, the Force flowing into him. His hand began to glow. Faintly, then brighter, and brighter until it was covered in pure white light so bright one couldn't see the hand or the lightsaber held within it.

"May the Light cleanse you."

The light burst forth from his hand at the creature before him. If it could not completely purify her, surely it could at least sever her connection to the master from whom she drew strength. Then she would fall.

---

ATTIRE: Link | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace)

TAGS: Lirka Ka ​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
ALLIES: Allyson Locke (directly) | Darth Malum of House Marr | Lunara Azure | Sophia of House Marr | Horus Rhyne | Darth Meritum
ENEMIES: Valery Noble | Kahlil Noble

Comms flickered in his hearing. Orders came from Darth Empyrean . They needed to finish by the end of the day, or there would be a crater where the facility stood. Darth Meritum tried to contact him. The message was jumbled, but he made out enough that a quick response was sent.

<<< "Gather those still alive and get control of some of these guns. Turn them on the ships in orbit. Our Master has hastened the time table." >>>

A similar message was sent to Darth Malum of House Marr .

<<< "I hope you are in the facility. Empyrean wants this under control by day's end." >>>

The hum of Gerwald Lechner's crimson blade filled the corridor as he plunged it deep into the reinforced blaster door, molten metal bubbling and dripping into the waterlogged floor below. His saber cast eerie red reflections against the durasteel, hissing and sputtering as it met the cold moisture clinging to the surface. With a slow, deliberate motion, he carved an arc through the door, the heat warping its edges until, with a final shove of the Force, the slagged metal collapsed inward.

Stepping inside, his boots squelched against the damp floor, the air thick with the acrid stench of charred flesh. The dim emergency lighting flickered, revealing bodies strewn across the entryway, their lifeless forms still smoldering from the merciless brutality of a Jedi's blade.

At the center of the carnage stood Valery Noble. The violet glow of her lightsaber pulsed like a beacon in the gloom, illuminating the scene of her handiwork. The Jedi's stance was poised, controlled, yet the evidence of her resolve lay in the corpses at her feet. The scent of burned flesh still lingered, mingling with the sharp tang of ozone from the energy weapons now silenced forever.

Gerwald exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around his hilt. The game of war was always played in blood, but here, beneath the ocean's crushing depths, the lines between predator and prey blurred. And for all his years of fighting, he could not help but wonder who was the greater monster?

"No, you weren't. You still breathe and live because of me. It is a debt you have yet to repay."

His gaze shifted, the crimson glow of his blade casting flickering shadows across his scarred features. His lupine eyes, which were cold and unreadable, turned toward the presence lingering next to Valery just beyond the carnage, Kahlil Noble. The Jedi stood tall. Where Valery was the storm, swift and precise in her execution, Kahlil was the quiet, watchful balance.

Their eyes met, the space between them filled with unspoken words, an understanding forged in battle yet divided by allegiance. Gerwald could see it, the weight in Kahlil's stance, the quiet resignation in his features. He had killed before, would kill again if duty demanded it, but he took no pleasure in it.

The contrast between them was striking.

Light and dark.

Honor and savagery.

A voice called out from behind him. There was a new presence. Gerwald knew this one as well. Allyson Locke . They had worked together before. It seemed her allegiance and loyalty could be bought by the highest bidder. Yesterday it had been the Sith Order which owned her services, and today the Galactic Alliance held them.

She knew these two. Gerwald only knew one of them.

The air was thick, not just with the lingering stench of scorched flesh and ozone, but with the weight of unspoken intent. Gerwald could feel it settling over him like a predator's gaze, pressing down like the ocean above.

Three against one.

His grip on the hilt of his saber tightened, knuckles whitening beneath the gauntlet. The hum of his weapon was a deep, pulsing growl, the only thing standing between him and the two Jedi before him—Valery Noble, Kahlil Noble, and Allyson Locke

His heartbeat was steady, his breathing slow. Not out of confidence—no, he was no fool—but because hesitation was death. Every muscle in his body coiled, the animal instinct within him screaming to strike first, to move before the numbers could overwhelm him.

Kahlil stood still, a quiet warning rather than an open threat. Valery's stance was different—measured, ready. She had already killed today. Gerwald knew she would not hesitate to do it again. Allyson's bow was trained at him.

The tension was suffocating, charged like the moment before lightning splits the sky. Each of them knew how quickly balance could shift, how in an instant, three against one could mean nothing if the right strike landed. But the numbers were what they were.

Gerwald had fought outnumbered before. It never felt any less impossible. His mind was already calculating angles, terrain, positioning. Who would move first? Who would hesitate? If he was to survive this, he would need to be faster, more brutal, more precise than ever before.

Three against one.

The odds were against him.

They always had been.

Gerwald could not wait. He launched his hammer at the Sword of the Jedi. Its imbuements would test any barrier between it and her.
The battle had begun.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: To Ashes & Blood //:
//: Valery Noble //: Kahlil Noble //: Gerwald Lechner //:

"End the bloodshed? Fight together?" Allyson laughed, words she had heard before, not just from them but so many others. The Corellian knew the moment she dropped her weapon after the battle, she would return to a cell, or the Jedi would once more turn on her. Her loyalties went to the highest bidder, and the GA's check bounced. "If you want the bloodshed to end, then leave." It seemed though those words would fall on deaf ears. She could feel the intentions of the Wolf; he knew the odds were stacked against them if they entered this fight.

The arrow remained drawn as she watched the muscles in his arms twitch, a hand grabbing the imbued hammer. Everything moved instantly, and the explosive arrow that had been drawn fired as the hammer released from his grip. Aimed now at the floor between the two Jedi in hopes of causing a distraction so that Gerwald could hit his mark.

Allyson quickly fell into the protective folds of the Force cloak. She fought from a distance, a sniper, a shadow. Letting the two know where the Corellian is, even Gerwald was dangerous to her. He had no idea where she stood. Groaning, Allyson moved quickly, keeping her footsteps light and as hidden as possible. She really wanted no part in this, but her mission was here, and it was to cover Gerwald's fuzzy rear end. She crept along, trying to find a small hidden nook while she drew another arrow. Her mind mused quietly, wondering if Gerwald was always furry or only when he was in that wolf form.

Maybe a question for a later time when he wasn't thinking she was trying to kill him. She found a few closely lined terminals to provide a lovely cover for the time being. Poking her head from around the corner, she waited. The arrow drawn shifted while knocked, her fingers adjusting the material of the arrow through the technology in the glove. It was easy to manipulate, being the mechu deru specialist she was. She waited just a moment, breathing in and out, steading the aim of the bow. Suddenly, the arrow split into three long shafts, and she angled it to fly and rain upon the Jedi and potential Gerwald if he didn't move fast enough.

Into the air, the nanite shafts flung, splinting into four smaller arrows, each raining down onto the battlefield. Allyson tucked again, watching from her roost. She sensed something in the area that didn't belong to the machinery of the base. Her amber eyes narrowed, trying to pinpoint the light hum of the Force. Whatever it was, she didn't like the sound of it.​

 

[Kahlil Noble]

Betrayer.

In the life of a Sith, it was a term synonymous with friend. Trusted confidant. No matter how much you could trust someone, the glaring, burning whisper in the back of Kahlil's mind growing up was that he would be betrayed. He wanted to trust, but it was difficult to bring himself to. Even when he finally did and ran from the Sith, that level of distrust tainted everything. All his relationships, all his attempts to help. To be a Jedi. It took years for that whisper to finally fade from his mind.

Master Viere. His old crew. Allyson. The woman who became his wife and partner standing with him right now. They'd all helped to chip away that burden set on his shoulders from his youth until he was standing tall. Until he was able to believe that people could truly be trusted.

It was why he didn't even react as the arrow was shot. He didn't act on that. It was only because of the Force's whisper of danger that he acted. The Force caught the arrow as it exploded. It didn't click in Kahlil's mind at first. The burning of an explosion of heat, the fire that came with it, shrapnel that cut across his arms. Blew his arm back.

Alone, this would've been his end. A betrayal he didn't see coming. A betrayal he didn't understand, didn't want to. His bond with Valery was the only thing that could still his mind from following where his heart had broken to.

".. Why?"

It didn't stop the question as his gaze turned, trying to find the archer where she perched. More arrows came, a rain that threatened all three. It didn't make sense. This was how a Sith behaved, uncaring of their allies safety. Why had she done this. A hand raised as runes across the ground near him lit up. Ice erupted, freezing the very air to capture the rain of arrows.

Then another rune, near Allyson herself, erupted. Light burst forth. For a Sith, it would be agony, ripping at the Dark Side. This had to be someone else, not Allyson right? Even faced down with the fact she was trying to harm them, Kahlil didn't want to believe it was her. The light would be blinding, much like a flash bang, but for a woman still of the Light like Allyson was?

Harmless.

The Hammer, the Wolf, for now he left those to Valery. Trusted her to. He needed to confirm this wasn't truly Allyson they were fighting. He had to.

Allyson Locke | Valery Noble | Gerwald Lechner

 

[Barr Vexos]

Objective: 1
Weapons:
GABB-15 Talon II (Modified)

• Scope
• Stock
• Grip

AT-NB5 Blaster Pistol

Armor:
GACA-14 Nemean Armor

• Boots: Hidden Survival Knife Sheath

Allies: GA and allied forces
Enemies: SO and allied forces Tag: Not Engaging

Focus...Will....Determination...Discipline

Four words that have a connection to each other in ways that make each word vital to the other. Soldiers in war relate to those words for reasons that most will would see as obvious for the soldiers but for the men and woman that partook in battle after battle for what they believe in it means more than civilians will ever know. Every good soldier carry those words into battle alongside the weapons, armor and resources that they have to fight in whatever is in front of them. The soldiers were taught these words while training for the upcoming battles that were to come but despite the teaching of these words, they wouldn't be able to have a understanding of these words until they have there first battles. It in the middle of the battles were lives are lost and one move could determine the victor where soldiers finally understand those words.

It was the same for Barr in being taught those four words and they showed throughout the way he fought against the SO with his comrades in battle. His focus toward his aim allowed him fire shots toward the opposing combatants while keeping cover from their fire. His discipline allowed him to stay calm during all the sounds of fire while taking his surroundings to make sure how the tide of the battle is going while in cover and allowed him to return fire. His blaster began to heat up as it's shots manage to affect the enemies near him and respond with caution. He might not have gotten one of them but he at least make certain that he was holding his ground.

It was during the shooting that a strange feeling affected him. His will made him pull the trigger on his blaster more times than he would in certain scenarios. Only after barely avoiding fire from a blaster that nearly connected his head that he went back into cover. Taking rapid deeps breaths with an inconsistent tone to regaining composure the stranger feeling that affected him. It's started weak at first but quickly began to overwhelm him as if it was battle armor. His discipline helped him control his breathing and before taking more shots toward the opposition only to take cover one again with the realization of what was happening to him.

He slimed. "Battle meditation..." he said, "Getting the good stuff."