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

[Lirka Ka]

Such was the deep oddity of Lirka Ka. Just what sort of monstrosity had she become? Just what was a “Once Sephi” as she so described herself as. A foul thing of me-playing-as-gods, a malleable life that could change and be rebuilt like a living droid of flesh and bone. At least…that’s probably what it was right?

Lirka looked around this “office” with some quizzicalness, to think she went from a bloody battlefield to this. War was a strange thing. She was thankful to be away from the killing for once, though the anxiety of being “behind enemy lines” did not leave her. She was one of the Sith’s monstrous warriors after all, plenty of people had died by her hand and she wasn’t entirely confident everyone would be as kind as Caelan Valoren

She took a seat on the chair, the thing groaning under the impressive bulk of her metal suit. It was a common occurrence at this point, not often people were accounting for metal goliaths when designing furniture. She let out a soft, tired, chuckle as he spoke of their rather odd meeting.

“In my long life, I have learned: it is the most unfortunate of circumstances that make the memorable of meetings, Jedi Caelan.”

Always titles. One didn’t get to 200 year olds without picking up a few odd speech habits.

“Yes, I suppose I should have. But I believe it is, as your kind say, “The Dark Side clouds the mind?””

Admittedly, Lirka knew just about nothing about actual Jedi philosophy. She hadn’t exactly been on the best terms with the Order for pretty much…forever.

She looked upon his face, and he was just a man. It was an odd thing, she had spent so long among monsters it was odd to look upon someone so…normal. But, whatever expressions sat behind Lirka’s blank-faced helmet were her own. She was a void in the force, every thought kept to herself. She pondered, briefly, to remove her helmet. But there was no point scaring him.

“Caelan, let the kindness of your heart form my visage rather than the horror of the reality.”

In true Sephi fashion, a bit of melodrama instead of simply saying no. She spoke again, a mixture of confusion and hesitation in that thick alien accent.

“Your people? The Jedi?”

It was an odd feeling. Lirka wasn’t sure anyone had ever told her that they didn’t want her to die. Truly an even greater oddity that it was from a Jedi, the enemy. He spoke of fixing her, reversing what had been done. Could Lirka be fixed? She hadn’t even considered the thought before.

 

[Darth Meritum]

Meritum couldn't be sure, but he swore for a moment he sensed the Jedi actually riding the grenade explosions. That was more surprising in the fact they actually went off, than the Jedi riding explosive inertia like that. Regardless of what exactly happened, he was pretty sure it wouldn't actually slow him down. He just had to keep going.​

​

Water filled the corridor with a vengeance, and what had momentarily been a drizzle had quickly turned into a full collapse of the sector. Meritum used the force to keep momentum as the water became waist deep, but that jog quickly became a swim. Bulk heads began to close in the distance, and a clarion call through the water told him that he had only seconds to get through.​

​

He let the Force run through his hands, propelling him more akin to a squid than a fish. It was fast enough to get him through the first bulkhead airlock, but not the second. It slammed in his face, while the other trapped behind him. The chamber he was in continued to fill with water as he sucked in a breath of air. Another second and he would have been fine.​

​

Wouldn't hurt if he could actually see, either. His eyes still bled, and the salt getting in them now only irritated them further. The pain festered and forced him to grit his teeth. He came so close and still managed to get stuck - like a fool. He slammed a fist against the airlock in angry desperation before pulling in a breath that'd have to last.​

​

The airlock finished filling up, leaving him drowning in a closed chamber.​

​

Using the force as a guide, he found a small splice slot. These things were not easy to breach without mechu deru, but where Meritum lacked in outright power, he more than made up with in control. Pressing a finger to the cover, he felt the mechanism to its core. A small twist of his finger and - pop - the door's seal broke.​

​

Water rushed out of the airlock as he was swept across the floor. Air never felt so good, but he was getting really tired of having to savor it. This entire place just wanted to see him suffocate. He groaned as he stood. The other airlock was damaged, its why it was filling; but that meant this sector was now breached as well. At least this time there would be a bit of time before the water level rose.​

​

He groaned as he trudged through the water, moving towards the location of his men. At least there he might find some reasonable company.​

​

Braze Kai'el​

 

[Caelan Valoren]

"It can cloud judgment, yes," he admitted with a nod.

It felt good not to have his helmet on. Honestly, he hated wearing it. The people that relied upon him insisted that if he was going to continue in his duties as a Jedi that he wear armor when entering a battlefield so that they wouldn't lose him, however. As the last known member of the House of Valoren, he needed to survive lest the Kingdom of Devit fall into chaos as the aristocracy went to war with itself in deciding a successor. It would not be a bloodless affair despite his knowing that most of them were peaceable people.

She didn't remove her helmet, telling him instead to allow his heart to form a visage of what she looked like. She, it seemed, did not wish for him to see what lay beneath. Perhaps she was ashamed of it.

"What is your species?"

If he was to picture her in his mind, at least to know that would assist him. Lirka Ka. It was a name that was unfamiliar to him. Perhaps to others it would be well known. If he said it to Grandmaster Noble she may recognize it immediately, or she may not. There were many that served the Sith in the galaxy. He didn't know if she was some well known foe or something completely unknown. When he got the chance he would investigate, but for now, he was content to wait.

"No, not the Jedi. I don't know that the healing arts can fix what was done to you. I meant people on my home world of Lazerian IV. There's a BioTech company there that has some experimental prosthetics that hold a lot of promise. Probably get one to replace my arm."

He glanced over at the stump of fresh skin.

"No hard feelings, by the way. It was worth it to free you."

---

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
Enemy: Kuhbee

"We kill them all!"

Zanami's eyes, full crimson in their fleshy pockets, locked onto a soldier, dodging the desperate firing from the incoming onslaught by the gathered enemy, straight for him. From a few yards, she leapt into the air, overhead of the soldier, drawing and igniting her blade; redirecting the blaster shots into his arms, disarming.

Radiating those long, sharp claws made from serrated bone from her bare feet, she drove all ten into the lightly armed soldier's chest. Slowly she crouched down, as blood fountained from the dying soldier who lungs tried to weather the flood, removing her claws on the tunes of squishy flesh coughing up fledging bits holding hands of the blood like macabre lovers.

Roving back and forth over the soldier manically, her eyes darting on the plane of phantasmical visions, robbing her of brief loss of focus due to the fracturing of her mind, she dropped her weapon to the left side, staring into those dying eyes with a mind roaming to thoughts of his family.

"Focus!"

From fading lips, one dying word floating upward, the soldier spoke mother. And Zanami focused, giving control over back to the violent persona, reaching down to retrieve her hilt. Off to her right, through peripheral vision, came into a view Jedi; a very furry Jedi.

And underneath her, life extinguished.

Zanami rose up, plotting her course directly for the furry Jedi.

 

[Lirka Ka]

That was the difference between them wasn’t it? The man who wore his armor out of duty, and the monster who wore her armor to hide. As he spoke, she didn’t respond. She merely thought, and she pondered. Could she be fixed?

He said the Dark Side clouded her judgement, but Lirka’s mind was clear. She was a void, the force had not touched her in a lifetime. The haze of her fractured mind cleared, and Lirka asked herself. Could she be fixed?

Did she need to be fixed?

Why was it always fixing?

They scorned her, they hated her, they mocked and laughed at the freak who the force dared not touch. They demanded she change, they demanded she fit the mold, her parents long dead demanded she take the throne, demanded a monarch not a warrior. The Confederacy demanded a justiciar, honorable and true. The Maw had demanded a killer, senseless and all consuming. And now this Jedi demanded peace, demanded normalcy, whose people would put her under the knife again to make her change. Who were Lirka’s people anymore? Certainly not Thustra, certainly not the Sith whose rank she could never truly join.

She stared into his eye, studying the face of Caelan Valoren and she thought, and she pondered. She gazed past him, to the beyond. To a leader of men, a paragon of darkness.

She thought of Darth Carnifex

Who had never demanded she change. Who had offered a monster, lost and alone, a place in a cruel and cold Galaxy. Who had welcomed her back with open arms after her treasons, who allowed her to plot, scheme, and kill. Who let Lirka be…Lirka.

She thought of his face, stern and wise. Eyes that witnessed her across the Galaxy. His musculature sculpted and mighty. The brand emblazoned upon his head just like her own.

She thought to his power. The old Alliance crumbling under his deception. She thought to Mandalore, subjugated by his will. She thought to Jutrand, where his judging eyes watched her fight in his name, and she thought of Mustafar where him and the Emperor had battled like gods. She thought of his many rivals, dead and forgotten. She thought of the Malsheem, and its great factories. The slaves toiling away for generations. She thought of armadas and legions, of an Empire long dead. She thought of a thousand battlefields his hand had touched, and the billions dead because of his command. She thought of meat in her teeth, ripping and tear, and foul blood that burned through her entire body.

She thought of Kaine Zambrano, Darth Carnifex, Lord of Black Iron, Eternal Father, Butcher-King, Sith’ari, her One-True-Emperor.

And she loved him.

Loved him as deep and pure as the abyssal sea around them. Loved him in a way they would never understand, it was the love of murderers, of tyrants. The love that reached beyond the stars, reached beyond of the void of her being. It was the love of monsters. It was love for how he killed, it was love for how he dominated. Love for how the galaxy weeped because of him. She loved how, deep in her heart, Lirka knew he hated her. A creature that could never become Sith. Loved how despite everything, in her darkest moments, he was there with arms wide open to welcome her back to the fold. Love for how he waited 30 years for his Slavemaster General to return and welcomed her as if it had been but a day.

She loved him for letting her just be herself.

And Lirka thought of a phrase she had never really understood till that moment. Sitting in an office in the middle of a war zone.

Love conquers all.

She finally spoke again, answering Caelan’s question. What was she?

“I am…me.”

A dart fired from her gauntlet, a thing wickedly barbed like the quill of a beast. Laced with poison to addle the mind. Aimed at the Jedi’s now exposed flesh. A thing to hurt, to maim, to teach. She was Lirka Ka, murderer, liar, scum, Kainite

She was the guiding hand of the Strong, who would herald them to the same enlightenment she learned on holy Rhand. Not waiting to see if her poison landed, her arm lashed out to grab her blade once more as Lirka bolted for the door. Using her bulk to burst through the thing.

She would leave Caelan, she would complete her mission, she would go to the Eternal Father with arms wide open, show him that she was still worthy even if his power had been purged from her.

And she would teach this Jedi the same thing she had taught Trayze Tesar in the empty void of space.

She was Lirka Ka.

And they should’ve killed her when they had the chance.

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Somewhere alive, somewhere dark
| Objective | Swim ahead, try to hide, keep your breathing even; you are but a minnow...
| Focus | Serina Calis

To strike true fear in the heart of another, with only her voice... what a rapturous experience.​

​

Psychological warfare was a tactic she once employed during her years as a bounty hunter, in the dark times that followed the Excision. The smell of ozone, copper, and upturned earth would never truly escape her mind - but within the embrace of the ocean, remembrance and recollection were all too easily cast aside, slipping betwixt her fingers, to be carried away by the tide. Yes, she would take the chance to make her targets afraid, to let their emotions betray them, but such actions were only ever taken out of a practical desire to even the odds. Now, however... she felt a malign sense of satisfaction, instead. With the gentle embrace of the tidemother, came that which all leaders craved, in one form of another; control.​

​

If anyone could keep up with her in the water, then Jenn was yet to cross their path. She was so much faster than any drylander could be, so much more graceful than her prey currently kicking those ungainly legs of hers, so much better than those fools who thought themselves capable of standing in her way. Though the circumstances had been imposed onto her, the metamorphosis she had undergone granted her that strength, that sense of wholeness with the waves and the tides. Though born a human, circumstances had made her Ersansyr. A Songbird of the Sith.​

​

"Without your voice, you are nothing. Without honeyed words, seductive lies and harsh truths, you have no worth. If I were to cut out your tongue, how long would you last among the Sith?"​

​

Even as she spoke such cruel words, Jenn's voice retained its otherworldly quality, peaceful and melodious, drifting through the currents gracefully, as if the ocean itself sought to carry her message. Lazily swimming through the entrance leading into the cave system, she marveled at the bioluminescent beauty of the coral lining its surface, the shimmering crystals catching onto the ambient light... purest beauty. Amidst the darkness of the abyssal depths, some light perdured. Some life. Some beauty. And she would honor it all by crushing the spirit of a defiler and corruptor within such a holy place.​

​

"Your technique is lacking, your martial skill inadequate, and your stance, far too reliant on the Force. You are weak, girl."​

​

A powerful kick of her tail, an elegant flip of her fin, and she gracefully passed by the Dark Jedi from an obscured passageway, claws digging inside her as she swam by, marking a long, painful trail along the blonde's back - from the shoulders all the way down to the hips. And all throughout, Jenn remained confident enough to slow the pace of her swimming after this sudden ambush, that her prey may catch a glimpse of her scales catching the soft lighting of the caverns, shimmering ever-so beautifully.​

​

"You are nothing!" came the siren's voice, carried by her laughter; a sound to melt a tyrant's heart, charm a warlord, and claim adoration from sycophants! "You have no name, no rank, and no station. Did you truly think you could compare to me, my little minnow? I, who fought Jetii and Dar'jetii alike? I, by whose will a new order was founded? I, who survived Darth Carnifex where so many others fell? When I die, they will sing of my glory for a thousand years, but you... oh, my poor little koi, you will be forgotten the moment you are gone!"​

​

And with such beautiful cruelty, she swam against the girl once more, crashing into her and wrapping that single, muscular limb around her legs, keeping her in place as she removed her helm. Fiery hair, arranged in a cut some found rather unconventional and rebellious, for a woman of her station; eyes that glowed an enchanting blue, beckoning all those who caught sight of it. A dangerous and alluring beauty she seldom revealed before others, yet chose to in this moment, yet not for trust, nor intimacy, but to assert her will. That Serina was no threat. That she risked nothing, to reveal her features like so.​

​

"Why should I let a pathetic creature like you live, when you take such malign joy in tormenting others for your own perverse pleasure? Even now, I remain righteous. I mete out this punishment because you are wicked, and because you side with those who think themselves strong; but, just as you are, all they truly have is weakness. Weakness... and fear."​

​

Her hand tenderly settled against her rebreather, as if her fingers had not become so sharp-nailed, akin to small claws in their own right. It would take so little effort, for her to rip it off and watch -no, feel- the girl drown.​

​

 

[Sol Stazi]

SPAWN CONTAINMENT TEAM
ALLIANCE PATHFINDERS
Garza

Talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I'd strike the sun if it insulted me.
Moby Dick, Herman Melville

​

"Hell, it's about time."

Colonel Stazi chewed on the stub of his cigarra while turbulence knocked him around the Alliance gunship. Two more flew in close formation despite the vicious storms. Scrawled across the colonel's blast helmet in aurebesh was the phrase 'THERE IS NO CHAOS' in fatalistic mockery of the old Jedi Code. He did not carry a rifle since there wasn't one big enough for the kind of big game they were hunting. Instead a bandolier of thermal detonators draped over his chest like a medal sash.

"Sensor contact in one minute!" Sol warned his troopers, "Remember your training and you will make it back alive!"

It was a lie but one that sounded a little reassuring. Odds of survival with lightning rods strapped across their backs and a fusion cutter dangling from each belt for cutting through thick armored hide were about as low as possible. Darkside corruption used to make him sick like some of the poor souls aboard but he'd learned to endure close proximity over far too many nightmare campaigns.

Crimson eyes glimpsed a great looming shadow seconds before something massive slammed into one of the gunships in a sudden blinding detonation. Instinct urged the colonel to leap from the transport's open passenger bay. One by one bright flashes emerged among storm clouds as the jumping pathfinders ignited their flares to avoid midair collisions.

Hurtling rapidly towards terminal velocity, Sol searched the skies through rain-streaked goggles for any sign of their colossal prey. He found himself briefly face to face with a leviathan glare falling past fangs the size of capital ships before at last activating his grav chute. Powerful retrothrusters arrested Colonel Stazi's descent enough so that when he at last slammed into a massive scale the impact didn't crush him.

Sol drew his vibroknife and tried to drive it into unyielding bone. Every stride the creature took was an earthquake that threatened to buck him off like an ant.

"Karabast!"

Sparks from the blade nearly blinded the duros as he began to slide towards boiling seas below.

 

[Elise of House Marr]

OBJECTIVE 1: AUTONOMY

Direct tags: Sophia of House Marr Horus Rhyne Zanami Darth Malum of House Marr
Location: Aboard Leaving Malum's mothership to attack the underwater base.

Elise gave her brother a shrug at the claim her trip was wasted, "I think that just means it's a poor vacation and less of a mission." She insisted, deciding to take the optimistic route regardless of the various warfare that was taking place beyond the ships, gratefullly, protective exterior. She didn't exactly like the idea of going for a swim this deep down. If she had to be deep anywhere she'd prefer a forest. A cave would be acceptable.

She had to chuckle though at the response Sophia gave, "Horus in doom voyage it is." she nodded to him in greeting at his name being given. Though raised her brow just a bit at the way she leaned into him, even if the smile never faded. She did like his response though, "I'll make sure to clap if you impress."

Zanami had her own little grin, and Elise could feel something coming. Not directly from her she thought. But then again, maybe so. That kind of intuition wasn't her specialty. Instincts didn't need to always know who or even when, where, why, or how. They just happened. She followed as the group headed off, pulling her helmet to her and placing it on her head.

"Fight, fight, fight. Never gets any better." She muttered, as they began to head to their target, as she felt others preparing for battle, she began to as well. Sending the darkness within about it's work, stirring up her anger, protectiveness, and an almost unrelenting irritation at tiresome work. Her senses became heightened, physical senses, physical abilities, her instincts, her sense of danger and reactions to it.
It would set her in the right mind, it was not time to truly meet a siths rage just yet, but it would have her prepared to if the need call for it.

Spoiler: Equipment

Personal equipment:
Draika iv misina (Lava lightsaber)
Red lightsaber with sturdy hilt
Berserkers Hinderance
Enviro-Shield Generator with booster pack.

Datapad

 

[Braze Kai'el]

TAGS: Darth Meritum

Braze panted lightly as his attention shifted to the Force bubble trembling in his grasp. Inside, the thermite burned like a miniature sun, its molten core thrashing against the near invisible walls. The heat gnawed at him, seeping past his defenses, licking at his gloved skin like an open furnace. His muscles locked, veins burning as if he were holding the fire in his own hands.

The strain was unbearable. The Force was an extension of his will, but thermite wasn't a foe he could fight—it was a reaction, relentless, unstoppable unless disrupted. Water was useless; it would only turn to steam or flash-boil, making things worse. Snuffing out oxygen wouldn't work either—thermite fed on its own oxidizers.

His mind raced, cycling through possibilities. He needed to cool it, isolate it, destabilize the reaction.

He forced the temperature down, channeling the Force into the molten core, willing it to drain heat faster than it could sustain combustion. The glow flickered but held strong, the raw energy fighting against him. His skull throbbed, his reserves burning up like fuel to a fire he couldn't smother.

His grip nearly faltered, the bubble shuddering as the inferno clawed for escape. Too slow. Not enough.

Desperate, he twisted the reaction, forcing the molten iron to disperse and break cohesion. The material wrenched apart, its structure weakened, its fury spread too thin to sustain. The light dimmed, the heat dulled, and the monstrous reaction collapsed in on itself.

The bubble flickered out, and a smoldering lump of inert slag dropped to the floor, steam hissing off its cooling surface. Braze barely had time to stagger back before his legs buckled, knees hitting the metal deck with a heavy thud. His breath came ragged, his arms limp at his sides, his body trembling from the exertion.

Braze sat up, exhaustion heavy, and ran a quick gear check, physically confirming each piece.

Spoiler

• Weapons:
  • Gauntlet Shield (Katar + Shield) - Right Handed Gauntlet
  • Corsage (Dueling Foil + Gun) - Left Holster
  • Sentry (Parrying Dagger) - Right Belt hook
  • Requiem (Light Foil) - Left Belt Hook
  • Resurgence (Two-Handed w/ Crossguard) - Magnetic Back Plate (Left)
  • Nightshade (Throwing Knives) - Right Holster
  • Troublemaker's Trickblade (Dual Spinning Saber/Chakram) - Magnetic Back Plate (Center)
• Equipped Gear:
  • Neck: Lightveil Circlet
  • Chest: Phoenix Fire Armor (Light Armor)
  • Boots: Space Wizard Pattern Boots
  • Gauntlets: Saberbreaker Gauntlets
  • Mask/Helm: Anti-Toxin Face Mask
  • Belt: FFS- Utility Belt
  • Left Hand: Compass Ring | BCA - Solid State Hologram Tool Band

Braze exhaled sharply, his body aching as he took stock. His thermal and particle shields had blocked most of the molten spray, while songsteel plating held firm against the extreme heat. The armor had protected him, but not perfectly.

Where the shields overloaded, the heat had seeped through. His joints suffered the worst, elbows, knees, and wrists, where the thinner layers of armor had absorbed just enough heat to scorch the skin beneath. Blisters throbbed, and every movement sent fresh pain lancing through his limbs.

Still armed and still breathing, and for now, that was enough.

Braze brought up his HUD, scanning for any trace of his enemy. The facility map flickered to life, overlaying his position with possible routes, but it was the E.G.G. Cloud that gave him the real advantage. The fine dust clung to his target, disturbed by movement and leaving behind a shifting trail only he could track. It wasn't a perfect signal, but it was enough.

He traced the path ahead, recalculating his intercept point. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on him, his limbs sluggish from absorbing too much energy, but stopping wasn't an option. He pushed himself upright, legs unsteady as the heat from his armor left his skin raw and aching. Pain throbbed in every joint, but he forced it aside.

His target was moving, and now, so was he. The Force surged through him, fueling his speed, and the world blurred as he shot forward. The hunt wasn't over yet.

 

[Caelan Valoren]

Sometimes, things just didn't feel right.

Caelan wanted to help her, to bring her back into a place of harmony with life, to make her less machine and more alive. The first clue that she hadn't wanted that had been the refusal to remove her helm. The notion of being a monster beneath was a pithy thing. He had seen much scarier things over the course of his life than what could be hiding beneath it. Mandalorians didn't remove their helm, but that was a cultural thing. This was something else entirely.

But why had she waited so long? She could have taken advantage of him much sooner. Sure, he'd severed her connection to her master, but why... oh. He understood even as the dart had grazed his neck, his actions to shift as soon as he felt danger just sparing him from being harpooned. His eyes saw her burst through the door at the same time as he felt the poison beginning to move through his veins. He knew if he moved, if he charged after her immediately, he would be accelerating its progression through his bloodstream, so he didn't move except to breath and watch her go.

Damn. Damn it all.

Why did he have to be such a soft-hearted fool? Was it so horrible that he wanted people to live and not die? She'd used that against him and now, yet again, he'd failed. He was starting to wonder if he was even worthy of being called a Jedi because in everything he did he failed. Master Windu wouldn't have allowed this to happen. But he had. He had allowed himself to believe that what he had done had brought change to someone and that he could actually do something for good in the galaxy.

Idiot. Fool.

More noise came from the door and Fate appeared along with a medic, who looked suddenly perplexed at the broken door. Caelan was using the Force to contain the poison, but he needed help to extract it.

"What happened here?" the medic asked, walking in and looking around. "Who needs bac... Hell, your arm!"

"Poison," Caelan muttered. "Neck."

He didn't say anything else, but the medic turned their attention from the fresh skin on his shoulder to the wound on his neck.

"Alright, hold still and let me work. This is going to take a moment."

The medic rummaged through her bag and then went to work. Caelan didn't move, just continued to use the Force to hold it at bay, stilling the flow of blood in that area. Lirka was getting further away from him as he sat there, but that was the price he paid for letting his guard down. It wouldn't happen again with her. She'd made her choice now. If she wasn't going to change, then she had to be dealt with in a way that Caelan loathed the very idea of.

Lirka Ka had to be killed.

---

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

TAGS: Lirka Ka ​

 

[Serina Calis]

The Abyss Stares Back.
Location: ???
Objective: Autonomy
Opposing Force: Jenn Kryze ​

The ocean was alive with cruelty.

Serina could hear it in the gentle timbre of Jenn's voice, in the way the water carried every syllable like a melody woven from silk and steel. There was no escape from it, no reprieve from the intoxicating rhythm of the siren's song. It slithered through the abyss like a lover's whisper, soft and laced with something far more dangerous than rage. It was control.

Serina had spent her life cultivating control, shaping it, wrapping it around others like a velvet noose. And now, she felt it being stripped from her, carved from her flesh one careful syllable at a time. She had never known a voice could hurt like this—not with the brute force of anger, but with the slow, deliberate precision of a knife sliding between ribs.

Jenn's words sank deep, slipping past her defenses with cruel elegance. Without her voice, without her ability to weave words into weapons, Serina felt unmoored, vulnerable in a way she had never been before. The ocean, once a vast and indifferent abyss, had become something else entirely. It was not simply Jenn's domain—it was Jenn, shaped by her will, bending to her command. Serina felt it in the currents shifting around her, in the way the darkness itself seemed to move at the Mandalorian's bidding. She had always been a creature of subtlety, of quiet, insidious corruption, but Jenn was proving herself something far more terrifying—an opponent who did not merely resist her game, but learned from it.

The realization burned. Serina had drawn so many into her web before—Jedi, Sith, warriors and scholars, each one thinking themselves untouchable, only to find themselves unraveling beneath her touch. No one had ever come back. No one had ever faced her and been stronger than before. But Jenn had. She had stepped into the abyss and shaped it into something of her own, something she could control, and the knowledge of it sent a pulse of something dark and desperate through Serina's veins.

She tried to hold onto her fear, to let it anchor her, but it was slipping through her fingers, changing, twisting into something else. This was not humiliation. This was pride.

Jenn had been transformed. The warrior Serina had first met on Vassek, the one who had fought with fire and conviction, was gone. In her place was something colder, something more dangerous, something Serina had not simply corrupted but awakened. She had seen into Jenn that day, had felt the hunger that lurked beneath her surface, and now, here in the abyss, that hunger had finally begun to manifest. Serina had expected resistance, had expected defiance, but this—this was something so much more exquisite.

When Jenn struck again, Serina barely had time to react before the pain bloomed sharp and searing down her spine. Her body arched as the Mandalorian's claws raked from shoulder to hip, carving into flesh with a deliberate, predatory grace. She gasped, the sound muffled by the rebreather, her breath shuddering through the mask as her muscles coiled in shock. Jenn did not strike to kill. She struck to mark.

Serina trembled. Not from the pain, but from the way Jenn did it—slow, controlled, intentional.

When Jenn crashed into her, wrapping her in an unbreakable grip, Serina did not struggle. Her body was caught, movement stolen, but she did not fight it. There was no need. Jenn had removed her helmet, and Serina saw her.

She had always imagined Jenn as an ideal—an unshakable warrior, an untouchable force, something immutable. But as her fiery hair drifted in the water, as those unnatural, glowing blue eyes bore into her, Serina saw the truth.

Jenn had been made. Not born. Made.

She had been shaped, molded, reforged into what she was now. And despite all the power, all the strength, all the righteous certainty, she was afraid.

Serina saw it. She felt it.

Jenn would be frightened of what she had become.

It was intoxicating.

Serina's hands moved without thought, sliding up Jenn's arms, fingers curling against the muscle, the sinew, the perfectly sculpted thing that held her in place. Her nails pressed in, not enough to hurt, just enough to feel. Just enough to remind her that she was not alone in this.

Jenn's words dripped with righteous cruelty, a declaration of judgment, but Serina barely heard them. The voice that had once been her greatest weapon was gone, stolen from her by the rebreather that kept her alive, and the loss of it burned deeper than any wound Jenn could inflict. Her voice had shaped empires, ruined heroes, turned the strongest into trembling creatures desperate for her approval. Without it, she was nothing—and Jenn knew it.

Serina's rage did not explode into being; it did not lash out wildly like an undisciplined flame. It was slow, creeping, a thing of inevitability. It coiled deep in her belly, uncoiling in measured, sinuous movements, like a predator stirring from its slumber, stretching in languid anticipation. The fear Jenn had instilled in her, the humiliation of being nothing in the abyss, had transformed. It had hardened, calcified into something sharper, something greater.

Above them, beyond the crushing weight of the ocean, beyond the reach of their sight or their knowledge, something broke. A battle lost, a decision made, a moment of weakness somewhere in the galaxy, and Serina felt it as if it had been whispered against her bare skin. The Force trembled, shuddered, wept, and that grief, that failure, that exquisite despair poured down through the unseen currents like ink in the water.

And the Dark Side welcomed her.

It did not roar. It did not crash down upon her like a tidal wave. No, the darkness unraveled, slipping through her veins like silk gliding from bare shoulders, creeping into her flesh like fingers tracing a golden clasp before it falls away. It was elegant, insidious, like a whispered promise against her ear—a promise that could not be unsaid, that could not be taken back.

Serina reached out—not with her hands, but with her mind.

She would not be nothing.

She would not be voiceless.

The ocean itself seemed to hold its breath. And then, like a dagger slipping between ribs, the words cut into existence between them.

"You want this."

The abyss shuddered.

"You want me."

Her grip tightened. Her nails bit into Jenn's flesh, not in defiance, but in possession. Her body pressed closer, not in surrender, but in claiming.

"You play my game, my Duchess. You swim in my abyss."

Her head tilted back, baring her throat, exposing her pulse—throbbing, hammering, alive with something primal, something intoxicating. Behind the rebreather, her lips curled, her breath hot against the mask. She had been stripped bare, humiliated, made to bend—but she had learned something vital in the process.

Jenn had stepped into her world.

And Serina would make her drown in it.

The final words came, soft as a sigh, as inevitable as the pull of the tide.

"But the abyss always stares back."

Serina moved.

Power surged through her like an unseen current, coiling around her limbs, twisting, snapping—breaking free. There was no hesitation, no pause, only the brutal, fluid grace of dominance reclaimed.

The halberd came up, its phrik blade slicing through the water like a phantom's scream, its edge not meant to kill, but to remind. The weight of it, the raw finality of it, sang through the ocean like a war drum. A promise. A declaration.

Serina would ruin her.

 

[Valery Noble]

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Lightsabers

The battlefield was chaos. The clash of Light and Dark pulsed through the air like a living storm, the weight of death and devastation pressing against Valery's senses as the Force trembled under the strain. She felt it — not just the immediate fight, not just the looming threat of the Sith pressing in, but the tragedy unfolding beyond these walls. The thousands of innocent lives caught in the crossfire. The ones they should have been protecting.

And instead, they were here.

Fighting her.

Allyson's taunt cut through the tension like a blade, but Valery didn't react. Not beyond the tightening of her grip on her lightsaber. Not beyond the brief flicker of her gaze toward Kahlil, catching the weary sadness in his expression, the quiet weight of everything he wasn't saying. It was that, not Allyson's words, that made her frown. Her husband had looked up to her once.

And now, she was throwing it all away. But Valery didn't have the luxury of dwelling on it. Not now.

The sudden whistle of arrows snapped her focus back into the moment. Allyson had already fired. A burst of twelve nanite-tipped projectiles sliced through the air in perfect arcs, each one deadly, precise. Valery surged into motion, her body twisting as she wove through the barrage with fluid, practiced grace. The arrows split as they moved, forcing her to adjust on instinct, to move faster, to push harder —

Pain flared across her arm.

A sharp line of fire carved across the side of her arm, a shallow but stinging cut where one of the arrows had grazed her flesh. Valery barely reacted beyond a slight wince, but her jaw clenched, her fiery eyes locking onto Allyson through the haze of battle. She's fast. Too fast. Allyson's suit gave her an edge, kept her moving, kept her just out of reach—

Valery exhaled sharply, already forming a plan.

But then — Gerwald.

She felt the surge of Dark Side energy as the Dread Wolf moved, his crimson blade cutting a lethal arc toward her back. For a split second, Valery nearly turned to counter... But she didn't.

Because she felt Kahlil.

His presence wrapped around her like a steady force, his barrier intercepting the Sith Lord before his blade could connect. She didn't even have to look to know that he had her back. That he always would. Valery exhaled through her nose, her focus never wavering from Allyson as she silently reached out through their bond, wordlessly signaling her next move.

Kahlil—

The rune detonated.

The explosion ripped through the battlefield with concussive force, sending a shockwave of Light-infused energy cascading through the chamber. But Valery was ready. Even as the blast erupted around her, she shielded herself, bending the Force around her form as she let it carry her.

The explosion launched her forward at an incredible speed, her body a blur of motion as she closed the gap between herself and Allyson in the blink of an eye. She wasn't aiming to cut her down. But this was going to hurt.

As she reached her, Valery twisted mid-air, shifting her weight — and then struck.

Her boot snapped forward with bone-crushing force, aiming to slam into Allyson's midsection with enough power to hopefully send her flying into the durasteel wall behind her. She wasn't pulling the hit — but she wasn't aiming to kill. Just to knock the wind out of her, to stun her, to finally bring her down. And as she moved, as she left herself open to retaliation, she trusted Kahlil to shield her against any arrows that might come her way, or even an angry wolf.

Because no matter how much this hurt — She wasn't letting Allyson disappear again.

Kahlil Noble
Gerwald Lechner Allyson Locke ​

 

[Darth Meritum]

It didn't take Meritum much time to find where he was going, but reaching his men was only going to be the first part of the plan. They weren't far by the time he had escaped Braze Kai'el , so when he entered the corridor it was well among the fighting. A bolt nearly took off his head as he rounded the corner, but preternatural instincts allowed him to narrowly dodge it.​

​

He was behind the enemy, which allowed him a second to plan his approach. After his second step in their direction, he knew how to deal with it. The first man would be launched into the ceiling, disorientating him, then to a wall and back again to the man next to him. The two crumpled, though were probably still alive. That would need to be dealt with in a moment.​

​

The second group heard the commotion and turned around. They were met with an ignited lightsaber cleaving their heads in short order, then returned back to Meritum as he walked further on. The third and last group abandoned their gun emplacement and brought to bear their blasters. Meritum slapped the rounds away, each bouncing around the corridor behind him before dissipating somewhere in the distance. With a precise surge forward, they were dead with wounds to their necks, heads, and hearts.​

​

"It's good to see you, Lord Meritum.", the first man out of the breach said. It was the man who had taken over this company.​

​

"Are you alright?"​

​

Meritum realized he must look a sight. Bloodied, closed eyes, blood dripping from his scalp and red stained hair. He sighed at the thought, knowing the pain that he should feel was being buried somewhere deep for later use. Negative emotions like that were carefully horded away by the Sith - a technique masters like Empyrean or Carnifex pioneered.​

​

"I'm fine. How far away are we from the designated uplink?"​

​

"Typhojem says around two hundred meters. Coordinates have been uploaded, sync your data comm with ours and we should be good to move."​

​

Meritum nodded, pressing a few buttons on his small device. It was more advanced than theirs, of course, but it was only what he absolutely needed to bring. In the worst case situation it could even complete the uplink itself.​

​

"Do you have the payload?", Meritum asked after he was done.​

"Aye. Men in the rear loaded it onto the donkey -", a robotic mule that carried heavy equipment, "- and should be good to go. Expect much resistance?"​

​

"No, but be careful regardless. How many men are left?"​

​

"Twenty, my Lord. Enough to complete the mission. Other breaches are reporting some success, but most are still in the thick of the fighting."​

​

"Send ten men to relieve the nearest breach. The other ten will follow me, along with the donkey. Any questions?"​

​

"No, my lord."​

​

The men saluted the Voice, then began their orders. Wiping a bit of blood from his face using his sleeve, he sighed with a notable exhaustion, beginning to work towards the designated uplink for this breach crew.​

​

"Inform the teams to be on the lookout for Jedi. I found one with some skill in combat, likely wouldn't go over well if they were caught off guard by them. If the men have ysalamiri or anything else, I'd use them."​

​

The communications soldier who came along nodded, then relayed those orders through a garbled, encrypted mess of a tone. The Sith were nothing if not good at codes.​

​

"Come on then, we need to make up ground."​

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Field Attire, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike | Slugthrower Rifle

The exterior of the complex was functionally overrun. Sure, submarines and troops were blasted and crushed by the depth out of the energy shielding, but so many had cut through and entered the complex that the only thing that seemed to preserve Aadihr was his rifle.

Not the power of it, but the silenced and suppressed muzzle flash, always just another slug in the confusion, never quite traced back to his location before he had to move again.

He tried to keep awareness of Kuhbee but the most he could do was avoid detection by the flood of sith entering the complex.

As he searched amongst the force presences of the chaos around them for the Wookie Padawan, he saw it. Something - it looked like the opposite of living. Instead of the shell of an inorganic there was just a pitch black figure in the force, a void, only detectable by where it isn't. And where it isn't was an artifact gleaming with the force. The force-dead figure of Domina Prime had grown close and try as he might, aiming a projectile at the absence of light proved to be difficult as his shots seemed to stray.

Worse that the missed shots was the singular shot that struck harmlessly against the weapon it brandished - an attack that only gave up his position.

There was chaos all around, but somewhere behind him was Kuhbee and the others. Aadihr couldn't hide forever, and he wouldn't run again.

He was no warrior - but this blackness had to be held at bay.

The distance still favored him - Aadihr gave up any hope of remaining stealthy as he fired his bolt-action Slugthrower as fast as his hands would allow him to manually load each subsonic round, accuracy suffering, hands shaking. He hadn't seen something seem to eat the force-light like that before. Even Darksiders had the force radiating from within, or shrunken inside of them.

With each projectile fired, they grew closer, however, and Aadihr dropped the rifle to ignite his lightsaber Pike, turning on the wrist-mounted energy shield.

"You'll go no further!" Aadihr called out to the approaching Domina Prime , stepping into the street while subconsciously holding his breath.

This thing... It shook the Miraluka - it's very existence. He could read no intent, see nothing in the shape of a thing. It defied his understanding in a way that unsettled core memories of being raised amongst the other eyeless children of Alpheridies.

Careful. Breathe. Calm yourself. Observe where it is by keeping track of where it's not. Be patient.

Domina Prime​

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka Ka ran, she sprinted, every farce of her weakness abandoned now that she was behind enemy lines. She moved as if it was a joyous dance, though a hasty one as she tried to leave poor Caelan Valoren behind her as much as she physically could. She almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

Jedi didn't understand people like her, they never did. They viewed in the world of matters of light and dark, philosophy and the force. The Dark Side that clouds judgement, and the Light Side that brings about purity. But Lirka was a monster, she was outside their philosophies and their musings. Lirka Ka was the worst kind of evil there could ever be.

She was just in it for the love of the game.

She moved through the halls as if it were a joyous dance, a girl in love as her blade whirled and twirled taking limbs and heads from bodies: poor and unfortunate souls cursed to be trapped in her brutish path. Unfortunately, Caelan leading her aside had given her a rather...frustrating...conundrum. She could run as fast as she wanted, and Lirka was quite the sprinter.

But she had absolutely no clue where she was going anymore. Maybe her mind had been more clouded than she originally thought...

A blade alone, Lirka was left to run, and fight, and think of her options. Steal a ship? Try and make for the "surface", follow the sounds of war and hope she ended up on the right side? But these were the thoughts of wise people, quick thinkers, for while a great deal of Lirka's life was fueled by love.

Even more of it was fueled by petty spite.

So she considered, if Woostri was going to be the big bloody bash of the cycle. Anyone important would be there, and there was one Sith whose comms Lirka had learned to heart after the whole...Zinder incident.

Trayze Tesar

As she ducked, dived, rolled, and weaved, she put in the poor man's Comms. Letting her voice echo out with a giddiness that felt rather inappropriate given the circumstances.

"Dear Captain, you wouldn't happen to be partaking in this whole Woostri dilemma would you?"

She spoke to him as if he were an old friend, rather than someone who she despised on such a deep primal level that it nearly made her sick. Sometimes, you had to be a bit nice before asking for a favor.

 

[Trayze Tesar]

OBJECTIVE 1: AUTONOMY

---

CURRENT MISSION - Smoke on the Water
Immediate Goals -
1: Breach the Woostri Defenses
2: Commandeer or neutralize the anti-Starcraft defense measures

BLUFOR - Sith Order et al. || Darth Malum of House Marr et al.

OPFOR - Galactic Alliance et. al.

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Open Frequency || Lirka Ka

---

The halls and claustrophobic pathways groaned as something surged in through the depths of the facility, and that something was Trayze Tesar. He drank deep the dark, enjoying the faint after-scent and pulsed his limbs forwards. What was deemed non-lethal was done with swift ease, what was fatal was absolute, and those who found themselves as the unfortunate opponents of the Kiffar captain would find him silent.

And smiling.

After all, this was his job, wasn't it? To drive forward the Empire, to bring low the monistic Jedi, and to use the whole breadth of his emotions and himself as his strength - so why not enjoy it? With the gidinness he felt that Caelan Valoren being allowed to live, he had intuited the Once-Sephi's intent before his comms had blipped.

"Perhaps I am, perhaps I'm not..." He answered, not as the stoic stubbornness as he had shown her back on Naboo, but now in an almost impish tone, before he gave a singular, exhaled bark of a laugh. "Yeah, ya got me. Does the General need me ta' bail 'er out, or were ya jus' droppin' a line...?"

A security guard found their arm horrendously and viscously twisted, their cries of pain heard in the background of their conversation. They were brave, pulling a secondary weapon as the seizure of pain prevented them from doing their primary - which was rewarded with an almost tired glance between the Kiffar and his droid contingent, and a short burst of blasterfire to cause the being to spasm no more.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Glitter & Gold //:
//: Valery Noble //: Kahlil Noble //: Gerwald Lechner //:
//: Equipment in Sig //:

Allyson heard his words. She felt the pain they caused, but it was hard to sympathize. It was hard to feel sorry when she knew deep in her core that there would be no kindness if the tables were turned or if she surrendered to them. They weren't any different than the others; even if they were, it was hard to tell the difference anymore. Allyson continued moving, creeping hidden in the shadows as best she could. It was stupid to think Valery would give up the pursuit, and with Kahlil backing her, they were almost unstoppable.

Almost.

They needed to get out of there; she had been instructed to cover the Wolf on his strike. Maybe if Allyson knew she'd have to face Valery and Kahlil, she would have decided on another course of action, but there was no going back now. It was unfortunate; even if Allyson had been on their side, they were apparently prepared to put the Corellian down. They were just like the others, the ones she thought were friends. Allyson silenced her mind, remembering this was her choice and one she made for self-preservation. Survival was all she knew at this point. Hidden, she saw the glint of Gerwald's hammer. If she was going to survive this - a side needed to be chosen.

Allyson crept closer, her cloak hiding her as much as possible until the Jedi had other plans. An explosion rocked the facility again. Looking back towards it, Allyson watched as Valery honed in on her position. "What the" was all the Corellian could muster as the woman's boot suddenly made contact with her. Instead of its intended target, the Corellian felt the flow of the Force course through her body. Valery wanted the Corellian to face her, so she would. A step back, the Shadow grounded herself, holding the position she was in, and caught the hard kick from the Grandmaster. Muscles tensed, and Allyson could feel if she hadn't depended on the strength of the Force, her body would have buckled easily under the strain.

Allyson twisted her hips and pulled Valery, using the woman's momentum to aid her. As she pulled, their eyes met, flecked emerald to burning citrine. There was nothing behind her eyes to show care or remorse. Allyson knew the path she walked and knew there was no going back. The world stood still at this moment, and the pair that had once been partners, friends, and shadows realized it was over.

No longer the ties that bound the Corellian to the Alliance and the Jedi held her back.

A thin grin cracked Allyson's emotionless face. "Nothing personal." Allyson turned her hips, aided by the Force, to throw Valery through the space behind her. As she flung the woman, her hands twisted hard, hoping to disable the Jedi, leaving her husband as the only hurdle left.

When Allyson let go, she faded into the shadows again, using the armor's cloaking instead of her own. Gerwald's hammer would suddenly fly towards him.

"Hey, Wolf!" She shouted, "Catch! Carnifex sends his regards."

Allyson focused on Valery, knowing that nothing was going to stop that woman, not even now.​

 

[Lirka Ka]

It was ironic really, that two people who found themselves on more or less the opposite of everything bound and danced their ways through the halls of Woostri with the same glee. Maybe, just maybe, they weren't all too different after all.

Except in the hundreds of ways they were different.

Lirka danced, and she twirled, and she ran, and she killed. She paid little heed to all those who suffered under her blade. She had far more pressing matters to attend to now, her words garbled over the comms with the sort of casualness only a murderer when in the middle of a devastating warzone. But, that was the game her and the "dear captain" played at the end of the day. Not like war could stop that.

"Oh you know I'd always find time to talk to you, dear Captain Tesar-"

She grunted, the sound of some poor soul dying coming over the comms. Evidently, she was keeping herself busy.

"-You see, I find myself rather deep behind enemy lines. You know how it is, my girlish charms woo all the Jedi I see. Blinking these big eye lenses and what can they do but feel bad for the big-bad-Kainite. Ha!"

Lirka was a liar at heart, and she adored playing like a Tsis'kaar and manipulating where she could. The whole ordeal with Caelan Valoren had given the Once-Sephi quite the unfortunate, and perhaps unfounded, ego boost. More than evident by her swell mood, all things considered. Shameless as ever, how could she not ask for a favor from her dearest friend: the Sith-she-hated-the-most.

"Send me your location and I'll rendezvous as fast as these legs will allow."

And it wasn't like they weren't allies here, Lirka just happened to...ya' know...pondered seeing if dear Trayze Tesar was a good swimmer once the fighting was done would be fun.

 

[Sophia of House Marr]

​

​

Ally Tag: [SO] Darth Malum of House Marr | Horus Rhyne | Trayze Tesar Lunara Azure Gerwald Lechner Darth Meritum Allyson Locke Lirka Ka Domina Prime Elise of House Marr Zanami Serina Calis QK-2510

Enemy Tag: [GA] - Not Engaging Yet [OPEN]
Location: Thranta Mothership [Under Da Sea] --> Inside Facility
Objective: Autonomy
| Robes | - | Red Lightsaber | - | Cool Whip | - | Enviro-Shield Generator |
___________

Quote of the Moment:
"...Well...You need the villain. If you don't have one...The good guy can just stay home."
___________​

"Well, you never asked."

Horus's words echoed in Sophia's ears as they pushed deeper into the underwater facility, his tone in her mind carrying an easy charm. Well, she thought it was charming anyway. She hadn't responded to it right away, rather, letting the distant hum of submerged electricity that powered this dump fill the silence. She was still too bothered by the interaction with her eldest sibling to think of anything quippy or useful to say. The corridors of the Woostrian complex were cold, sterile, and carved with sleek efficiency. It was ugly, obviously, built for function.

"You could have told me.", she said finally, not looking at the handsome man she hadn't let go of.

Sophia wasn't really sure if any of the others would follow them and from the sounds in the distance Zanami had already found a target. "I Just mean…I wouldn't have minded—"

Her words floundered. It wasn't an accusation, not quite. Just an observation, one that sat heavy on her tongue. She had known Horus wasn't a simple man. He had never pretended to be. But hearing it from Malum, having it laid bare like a piece of intelligence in a mission briefing, had made it feel different. Less like an untold truth and more like a vital piece of information she should have already been aware of.

The raven-haired woman just didn't like being the last to know. But, there were more pressing matters.

For one—She had seen something incredibly large moving outside the viewport. Sophia had no way of knowing it was Garza making an entrance, but, there was a sense of there being something much more dangerous in the water than submersibles and traps. Her lips parted for a moment to ask Horus if he'd seen it too but the crimson-eyed daughter of House Marr could feel Alliance solders ahead—rigid, on edge, their discipline trying to smother the creeping down that was being sewn into them. There were Jedi, too. Their presence was different, steadier, but there was a touching dose of fear there as well. Not all of them were used to war. Not all of them wanted war. Not all of them, would survive it.

Sophia let out a slow breath, flexing her fingers in anticipation, as energy shimmered along her skin. This was what she had been trained for. What she had spent so many, grueling years, in Jutrand Academy in preparation of. Not to mention that she wasn't going to let Malum act like she was some delicate little thing in need of protection from the big strong men. Ugh, her brother was so extra…And Horus thought it hadn't gone that badly? "Malum isn't just my brother. He's…", she trailed off, keeping her voice low, as they moved down the hall. "He's the Heir. He's Malum…And that means can make the life of the spare to the spare to the spare of the Heir incredibly…Difficult if he wanted to."

It was only then that she caught sight of a blade in his hand. It had appeared, swiftly, without her noticing. Was she so distracted? Or was he that good? He was steady. Ready—And suddenly, she hated how much comfort she took in that.

"First squad should be up ahead.", the young Knight spoke, reaching out, to count a cluster of life signatures. She squinted. "I think they're waiting for us…"

Her fingers twitched, and with a roll of her wrist, the lights in the corridor began to flicker violently. It wasn't enough to shroud them in full darkness—just enough to send a ripple of unease through the Alliance tasked with keeping the Woostrian facility safe. "How do you want to play this, love?"

Before Horus could answer—

The world shook.

Not from an explosion within the facility, nor, from the battles of attrition happening on the surface.

No, this was something else. A terrible, vast void of life being snuffed out all at once. Sophia breathed in sharply while the floor beneath her feel rumbled and her free hand flew to the wall to steady herself while ice raced down her spine. It was like being plunged into frozen water, unable to breathe, move, or process what she was feeling. For the first time, in a long time, she didn't understand.

She did not know that Darth Empyrean had used Penumbra from orbit to wipe out a city.

"What—", her voice faltered, though she pressed on a brave face. "What was that?"

Gooseflesh prickled along her arms. She had never felt anything like that. Not even on Tion—And that entire system had been beaten within an inch of its existence. She turned, instinct overriding pride, seeking the only thing that felt solid. Her fingers curled around Horus' wrist, holding tighter than she meant to. Her blood moved. There was loss. So much, death.

Somewhere above them, something, had hit.

And it had been colossal.

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Battle had the habit of causing multiple stimuli to slam into an individual, without granting the time to respond to any of them, let alone a consideration to prioritisation, one moment he was preparing to launch the boarding assault onto the base, all the while the distraction of his youngest sister's words still haunted his mind.

The next she had run off with some older man, as the red emergency lights screamed their ugly scream, as crew on board, and droids alike fell over, the bright white lights far above them shuttering off, as the broad realisation struck him with an impassive annoyance. A realisation that had come quickly with the breach of the hull, as water began to seap through, threatening to burst.

Looks like the Alliance would indeed not leave them unmolested... annoying, but he supposed it made it more interesting.

At the very least, even if leaving him with biting words, in a sense Sophia had been evacuated. Though considering minorly, that meant she was alone with... Rhyne, and majorly, that it felt like it was only escaping the danger to enter the lion's maw, he was not much taking relief of the events, while too he idly noted that it seemed Zanami had safely joined the first wave...

...That still left many under his protection and charge on a ship that seemed soon to be sinking.

"Evacuate the ship into the facility! The vessel has done its duty." He instructed to those around him, passing the words along on his comms, such that they echoed the hallways of the ship, it was an annoyance to lose that which had been manufactured by MarrTech and Helix Solutions, but, such was the cost of war.

And ships could be replaced in a way that lives could not.

He turned his gaze upon Lady Azure, and his older sister, a moment shared between them before they desended down into the depths of audible blasterfire, and the visceral shouts of mortal injury, the droids having established their makeshift beachhead, and far from willing to give it up. As reinforcements lined up, ready to drop and to evacuate, as the crew joined them taking with them what was necessary to both defend themselves, and create makeshift headquarters, until the entire facility was theirs.

"My apologies for denying you the chance for blood, my lady, but as a gentleman I thought it only right to give my younger sister a headstart, it would only be sporting after all." He japed, offering a tilt of his masked head, followed by the incline of his spine, it was a strange comfort that his elder sister had chosen to join him.

...At the same time, part of him wished she had went with Sophia...

...Young maidens hardly should be associated themselves with greybearded rogues.

Alas, there was little he could do now, especially as he felt the tremour break the sea above them, more water breaking the steel hull, as more water spurted forth, their charges beginning to make their descent down, leaving them here for barest moment. Something big had dropped, the rumbling was enough indication of that, but what exactly it was, he could be hardly certain. Most likely a ship falling from orbit... but if it was one of theirs or one of the enemy's was impossible to say.

Especially as the ping by his comms took his attention, the Wolf's words enough to parse his lips.

"Inform His Imperial Majesty that we shall have the guns of the facility within the hour." He could only wonder what was going on above them, it was good enough indication that Darth Empyrean was still alive that the campaign was going well, but down here, he was unfortunately blind to both what occured planetside, and what was occuring beyond the atmosphere.

...All he could do was achieve victory here.

He allowed a breath to pass his lips, feeling truly now his body imprisoned within the confines of blackened armour, as his hand reached for his back, gripping the beskar hilt of his Sith Sword, the protruding black blade pulled out from its sheath, as he adjusted its grip in his hand. For all that he had thought of it these last few moments, for all that he had done it so many times. There was truly nothing like the moments before impending bloodshed, there was truly nothing like... well bloodshed.

"Into the breach once more," He spoke a marriage of sombreness and charisma, his head turning ever slightly to meet the gaze of diamonds and rubies, before his legs took him forward.

Took him forward into a scene from hell.

Droids marched forward ever in formation, their discipline unyielding in much the same way their minds were entirely beyond the remit of tactical ingenuity. Yet, that was all which was required of them, red bolts firing in massive ways against the blue of Alliance soldiers whom attempted their very best to stem the tide. There were more of them here than expected, he could already tell, perched as they were in defensive positions, and firing down, but even this would not be enough, not with the Wolf's distraction having made its mark.

The sounds of other Thrantan Motherships ramming into the base filled his ear, the screech of steel meeting steel, as behind him to the sides, he could see water gushing into the holds of others. Seemingly, not only his vessel that had been claimed by the Alliance's counterattack, yet, saved as they were, latched onto the base, droids and men were quick to exit out into the meatgrinder ahead of them.

The red hiss of the lightsabre extending out from the steel of his blade, was the only sound necessary for his ears, as off in the distance, he imagined he saw Zanami in the midst of a battle of her own, he could feel Trayze's presence, joining the battle from the craft he had taken.

All was going to plan.

And now the Lord of the Tsis'Kaar was here to engage.

His armoured boots had him rushing forward, the whistle of blasterfire castigating his eardrums, as his legs had him bypassing the hulks of droids, for moments the Ravenlord seeming to shift into pure darkness itself, as the wind assailed him at the torrent of his speed, his blade sailed through the air, as the first soldier of the Alliance grunted, the blade breaking armour, and embedding itself into chest, then the next second he was gone again, a scream as an army flew flying, blood splashing upon his mask as the darkness of Sith Steel embedded itself into flesh. The veins beneath armour felt, the heaviness of steel refusing to be denied in the face of the resistance of skin.

The bloodlust had begun.

Along with the fire and the storm.

Lightning burst forth out from the blade, acting the conduit of his strength, protruding out from its length to act the vice like noose, that would bring about the death of all that stood in its wake, acting the conductor in haunting melody, an orchestra formed by the sound and colour of blasterfire, the gap which he made, exploited for all that it was worth.

As he brought his hand forward, as he pulled upon the Force, that whether on land or at sea, still permeated as strongly as it ever did. The ring upon his finger, glowing its dangerous orange tone, the only warning of upcoming tumult, as he pulled upon the Force with the will of one greater than that archaic god, demanding its obedience, commanding its allegiance.

As a great stream, a great wall fiery orange flame burst out of his fingertips, rushing forward towards the Alliance's defences.

As the world shook.

His eyes simultaneously rolled back into its skull, as it blazed forth in agonising pain, the visor of the mask cracked an ugly crack, as the flame fueled only by the darkness of death unparrelled shook the very foundations of the base that they sat in, the flames rapidly turning into a blinding white, before settling upon a pale blue, his hand acting the unwilling flamethrower, as more, and more power fell into his hands, power unable to be contained within the frame of a mortal man.

But of which was contained nonetheless.

Ash.

Ash was all that remained of the front.

Blood trickled down his nose.

"...To the gunnery controls." He whispered, as the remnants of Alliance forces in this sector were wiped out, the reinforcements intercepted, as tentative footsteps took him forward to his objective, knowing that into the depths of darkened hallways blaring with sirens, and recovery from what seemed like an earthquake, caused by he knew, the firing of something of the Emperor's, that more obstacles awaited.

Allies: Lunara Azure Elise of House Marr Zanami Trayze Tesar Sophia of House Marr Horus Rhyne Domina Prime Lirka Ka Darth Meritum Allyson Locke Gerwald Lechner Serina Calis Garza QK-2510
Enemies: Valery Noble Kahlil Noble Caelan Valoren Braze Kai'el Kuhbee Aadihr Lidos Jenn Kryze Barr Vexos Sol Stazi

---

Outside of the base, the battle continued without interruption, Thrantan Motherships remained in the rear providing long range support through the firing of turbolasers, mass driver cannons, and the launching of variable ordinance warhead launchers, daring the Alliance to challenge their net of point defense laster cannons as out from their hangers flew out the Thranta Spawns more than willing to engage in close quarter dogfights with the Alliance's subfighters and submarines. Laser cannon turrets and heavy laser cannons sang heavy underwater, their fire heralded by the warble of bubbles, as they struck true, or otherwise were lost to the depths of the ocean floor.

Entire droid formations were annihilated or disorientated as depth charges lay threw them across the water, some rising to the top of the water, others blasted away to crash into the corals. As still more formations swam forward, their anti-armour weaponry used at full charge, as fire was continued onto the Jaguars and Krakanas, to ever mixed success.

As Malum's subordinates down in the depths received the... interesting call from aid from Taskforce Mirial.

A contingent of Swarm Droids, Aquatic Droids, and Thrantan Spawns quickly assembled, as the battle waged on, rising from the depths of darkness, to the lighter upper ocean, the Leviathan Anti-Aircraft Platforms long ago having been noted, but not considered as a threat to the underwater operations.

Torpedos, cannons, and lasers struck through the water, as finally these crafts too were brought into the fight.

"Chervertim-Colonel Asenath of Taskforce Mirial, I am Darth Sicarius, High Inquisitor of the Tsis'Kaar, consider the anti-aircraft platforms indisposed." The comms shuttered off as quickly as the words were spoken.

Allies: Festerruman Sachiel
Enemies: Gress D'ran