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

[Srina Talon]

Ally Tag: Sith Order - Kartus Lok
Enemy Tag: GA - Judah Lesan
Location: Now on the Beach - Outskirts of Gopsthal
Equipment: Robes | Saber | Ring | Ring
Ship: Landing Castle x | Cruiser [Requiem] x | Frigates [3] | Beacon
______________________________________________________

She exhaled slowly and noted that her breath turned to vapor, even, in the residual heat from the landing castle hitting Woostri. It was cold and getting colder. The air was heavy, thick from the storm, with war, with the scent of ozone and burning steel. The Landing Castle loomed behind her, its metal skin shifting as it devoured the land beneath it, grinding Woostri into raw material for fuel. The droids marched. The city trembled. The ocean churned. Restless—Angry.

Srina knew Judah Lesan was on the way.

The contact she made with him would lead him like a child, so eager, so foolish in seeking something that would ultimately be his demise. He would come, because she had called. Because…He could not resist that which remained ever and always outside of his reach. The Jedi Shadow emerged from the chaos like a ghost breezing in from the past. He should have been dead. His expression was one of a court jester, an insufferable mix of defiance, and recklessness. He had come to stop her. To throw himself into her path, as if he alone could turn the tide.

Srina Talon had felled entire battalions.

One man was not enough.

"Hello there!"​

The Empress did not give the Jedi the dignity of a verbal reply. The moment his boots touched the glassed ground; her fist was already flying. There was no showmanship, no flare, but the simple efficacy of a viper striking with the force of a durasteel piston. She was a blur of white and shadow, her knuckles connecting with his jaw in a precise, brutal arc that made a wet -CRACK- louder than thunder. The impact would send him reeling, his body snapping backward as if caught by an invisible hand.

Gold-hewn orbs watched as he crashed into the Southstar battle droids that were still slowly deploying from the castle. Their mechanical bodies clattered beneath his weight and they became a jumble of limbs and metal while they tried to right themselves and assess the intruder. They reminded her of a pile of discarded dolls. Srina tilted her head slightly, the movement hawkish, barely human, as she regarded the Jedi with something that might have been amusement—If it wasn't so utterly devoid of warmth.

She stepped forward—Slow and deliberate. Her voice, when it came, was soft—too soft. It was a whisper that was meant for the space between breaths, for the moment, before the knife slid between the ribs.

"Hello."

He would feel a chill in the pit of his soul.​

She lifted her hand, rain-slicked skin shimmering, before her fingers spread like a puppeteer pulling invisible strings. The shards of broken glass from the once pristine sanded beachfront shivered in response. They were inorganically formed, jagged, and wickedly sharp. The moment stretched, frozen with unnatural stillness. Then—

A flick of the wrist.

The shards detonated toward the Jedi, a deadly swarm of glass, slicing through the air like the shrapnel from some unseen explosion. A thousand tiny razors, each piece a silent promise of pain.

And still…She did not stop. Her children, the Sith Order, required that their mother stand firm. That she support them while they decimated the enemy and returned this civilization to the dust it had once emerged from.

The slender Echani pressed forward, relentless, her boots ghosting over the ruined ground as if she barely touched it at all. The Force roiled around her, vast and bottomless, the storm in the sky answering in kind. The very clouds seemed to pull down while lightning crackled threateningly. There was a darkness in her that was unfathomable and monstrous in capacity…What the Jedi felt? What he sensed? The cloying scent of jasmine, of rain, was little more than a drop in the ocean of what she held in reserve. The phobis was not present. She was not halved, this time.

There was no hesitation in her movements. No wasted motion. Only precision.

Empyrean would not. Whether he took this world or not, he would see it burned as a message."If the Archive is not taken, I will burn it from orbit.", he offered through his link to Srina Talon ."Be swift - my patience with the Jedi grows thin."

A flicker of static brushed her thoughts, a whisper from the void—Empyrean. She could feel her husband as if he were standing right beside her. His hatred was a flame that warmed her regardless how vicious and unrelenting his tone might have been. <<I know you find it trying…But patience is required, meldanya*(beloved). Find it. If not for your Empire—Then find it for me.>>

Her response collided with the ether, smooth as silk, sharper than a double-edged sword. She was his wife. His partner, his other half. His goal was her goal. His word, her word. She merely aided the Corpse King in how he reached his destination. In how he achieved victory, at all costs.

<<This is a hunt, not a harvest. If you wish to burn something, burn the ones who try to flee.>>

Her focus snapped back to Judah Lesan .

The small group of Southstar Units trained their weapons on the Jedi while Srina watched him try and get back to his feet. The tension in his stance. The stubborn defiance that made him so infuriatingly alive.

That would not do.

"It is strange that your Alliance sent you to me now. You. The failed Jedi Master…The one with a death wish. The one who walks, unwelcome, in my shadows."

The darkness around them twisted. Not from the lack of sun, not from the storm, but from something deeper. Something unseen. The air seemed to fold, the light bending at the edges, unnatural, and wrong. It was then that they moved. A second Srina stepped forward and then a third. Echoes of her—Perfect, soundless, and seemingly identical to their maker. Each one moved as she did, their feet leaving no trace, their presence in the Force undisturbed.

Illusions? No.

Judah would be able to feel them.

"They should have sent an army."

Spoiler: Summary

Not too much!

The landing castle is still slowly producing droid units if anyone needs some NPC's to tussle with. So far there are:
Southstar Battle Droids
Droideka Mark II
Scarab Walkers
There aren't too many of each but anyone can use/kill/fight them. They'd be walking through the shield around the landing castle and toward the city proper.

Srina is now engaging Judah Lesan
Srina is speaking telepathically to Darth Empyrean

If there's anything I missed or that you'd like me to note please reach out!

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Allies: Sith Order, Srina Talon Kivah
Foe: Galactic Alliance
Location: Near the courtyard, close to Connel Vanagor
Supporting: Madrona A’Mia Jhyrack

​

The black heart within his chest, if it were capable, would have been beating relentlessly to the sound of Srina's words echoing in the recesses of his dark mind; in that very moment, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Kasir felt something stir within him– something raw. It was as if the white haired woman's voice carried ancient wisdom that finally caused the sangnir to acknowledge a part of himself that he had long kept buried.

For years, he had roamed as a lone wolf, easily disregarding titles as nothing more than irrelevant to someone known to be both savage and reckless; but she, she was more than just a name to him now. He saw in her the embodiment as the Mother of all Sith within their Order, with power that could spark both fear and admiration equally. Acknowledging such importance, he felt a deep respect surge within. The ability to guide, to nurture even in darkness, resonated with the flame flickering inside him. However, this time he wouldn’t reply through telepathy, as it tended to be his habit; this time, he would speak through actions, his promise now laced with vengeance.

Today, he was going to fight for her vision.

Kasir, like a phantom ensnared by shadows, moved with terrifying speed; every single movement was instinctual as he traversed this cursed and foreign terrain. His senses were ever sharp and attuned to Kivah's presence behind him. The storm all around them raged, but he navigated through it with ease.

Like a bolt of lightning, he suddenly appeared before two soldiers who perhaps had wandered just a bit too far from their group; they would be left with no time to react. With a swift pivot on his heel, he positioned himself just right and delivered a powerful kick to the knee of the first target; the sickening snap of bone filled the air around them, immobilizing the man, and sending him to the ground in agonizing pain.

The Sith assassin spun to his next target; yet, his saberstaff was forgotten in favor of a ceremonial dagger, the very one that had once executed spice lords on Sevarcos. And like a serpent striking prey, a pale hand darted forth, grasping the man's throat in a merciless grip; then, his blade became a relentless machine, repeatedly piercing flesh just below the sternum while holding the victim in place.

The rain washed away the pools of blood beneath his boots, but Kasir’s expression remained stoic, daring to betray nothing of the cold killer that had always lurked within, a weapon once born anew in the Dresuoti.

With an air of nonchalance, he tossed the body aside, as if it were nothing more than garbage. There was no reason for anyone to be spared from witnessing his true nature, nor the display of physical prowess; his doors were always open, welcoming all who dared to step forth. For this was a being who did not shy away from any challenges; rather, he embraced them with a sparkle of excitement in the abyss of his gaze.

 

[Judah Lesan]

WEARING: Robes
WEAPONS: 2 Lightsabers
ALLIES: Gallactic Alliance
ENEMIES: Srina Talon (direct) | Kartus Lok (indirect)

No sooner had Judah’s feet landed on the glassed beach than the cold and sharp fist of the Echani Empress collided with his face. The cracking sound echoed around them. She was precise and much stronger than her petite frame let on. Judah knew the battle with her would not be an easy one, but he did not expect the first strike to come so soon. It was clear. Whatever she was there to do, she did not want him to know, nor did she want him to interfere.

In truth, it made him more curious. Judah was more determined to find out what she had planned, if the opportunity arose. The behemoth of a droid carrier was not her reason for being here. It was something else. The Shadow simply needed to find out what it was. That was not going to happen as long as his Corellian butt was stuck on the ground.

The punch which Srina Talon had landed on the Jedi sent him crashing into a group of droids that were definitely not on his side. He caught himself, the new arm much stronger than the one the Empress had shattered. Judah hoped this fight would not be testing the limits of how resilient this new technology was. For his own part, Judah did not want, nor expect, a repeat of their last encounter.

She returned his greeting. It reached deep into the recesses of his very being. The chill which covered her demeanor coated the word and seeped well into his bones. This was not a kind greeting. Srina was making a point.

His eyes watched as the Empress gathered shards of glass, the effect of the heat and pressure of the landing castle washing over the white sand of the beach. It would be beautiful if it had not been so devastating. With a flick of her wrist the unrelenting onslaught of sharp shrapnel threatened to cut through Judah one slice at a time. It would have been a painful death if the woman succeeded, but this time, Judah had not suffered the concussion which fogged his mind.

Judah was clear headed this time.

The Jedi reached his hand out, commanding the glass to stop. One by one, and then all at once, the shards ceased. They hung in the air, frozen in place, as though they were stuck in time. Several jagged and pointed edges stopped inches from his face. Judah let out a sigh of relief. It was almost audible. Judah tripped and stumbled to his feet, looking for some kind of solid footing amongst the tangled mess of metal and droids.

He reached out for one of the pieces of glass, plucking it from its immobile state. As he pulled on it, his free hand swiped left causing the remaining shards to fall and shatter against the ground.

Judah took several steps forward, but stopped at the familiar sound of wardroids clanking about him. Another sound and the Jedi knew the muzzles of their blasters were trained on him. They were close, too close to miss. In one motion, Judah twisted and spun, bringing the sapphire blade of his lightsabers to life. The droids which surrounded him, now rubble, were strewn in parts and pieces with the radius of where they stood.

“They did not send me to you. You rang!”

His answer came as he took several steps toward the Empress.

“Did you miss me? You must have to call.”

Whether his words were born of confidence or a simple and stubborn determination was up for debate. Not even Judah was certain of whether he believed he was strong enough to stand up to the power of the Sith Empress. The woman commanded a power that only a meager few in the galaxy could claim with integrity. Many boasted, but Srina Talon had no need for it. Even as the storm, the jasmine and rain, surrounded him, her ability was on full display.

Judah was enveloped in the unnatural fragrance of her presence. It was not physical, but rather her aura. It was metaphysical, supernatural, and something which left an impression deep in his psyche. The Jedi had been tainted by her on Echnos, branded perhaps, but he would not allow his failure there determine the level of control she had over him now. Failure was a teacher. It was not something to be ashamed of.

One by one she surrounded him. Judah had seen this in the form of illusion before, but this was different. He should not have been able to sense her, feel her, in each of the doppelgangers, yet he did. They were identical. Every one of them was her.

“Neat trick."

His eyes closed briefly. At first glance, they all seemed to be the same in the force as well. Judah could not discern one from the other. He needed to focus. The force would lead him. It would tell him which of the echos was the original. His feet shifted beneath him, turning until he came to stop. When his eyes opened, Judah smiled.

“I see you.”

Judah reached out toward her with the force. He was a Niman practitioner. Combinations of force skill and lightsaber attacks were common in the sixth form. Judah hoped to pull the Echani toward him with the force. His upward slash would be precise and efficient. The Corellian was not a brutal combatant. He was intentional and controlled.

Srina had struck him first. Judah would not give her another opportunity without making his own attempt. Whether his declaration of finding her was right or not, Judah was going to fight.

The Empress would not escape. Not this time.

 

[Drystan Creed]

Tags:
Enemies: Zachariah Conway
Allies:
Equipment: Standard (In Bio) | A gift
Wearing​

Drystan's advance slammed to a halt.

His breath hitched as an invisible force locked him in place, his strike freezing mid-swing. A curse slipped through clenched teeth. Damn it.

Helpless, he could do nothing as his opponent closed in, taunting him. He tuned it out. He'd heard it all before—arrogance, certainty, the same tired drivel. Let them gloat. He would use it.

The moment the grip released, he dropped to his knees. But respite was fleeting. Lightning arced toward him, and with only a split second to react, his hand shot to his utility belt. His fingers closed around what he needed just as the first surge struck.

Agony tore through him. His armor took the worst of it, but pain still lashed through his body, muscles locking up as raw energy danced across the plates. Circuits popped, sparks flying where the plasma kissed metal. His movements dulled, slowed, but he'd fought through worse.

He would fight through this.

Through gritted teeth, through the searing heat and the damage tearing into him, Drystan stood.

Each step toward the Sith Knight grew heavier, every inch forward a war against the force slamming into him. But he only needed one step.

One was enough.

"I'm taking you with me."

His arm snapped up, a metal orb in his palm. A press of his thumb, and a sharp beep cut through the rain.

No delay. No warning.

A modified thermal detonator. Overcharged payload.

An instant later, fire consumed them.

The explosion roared, swallowing the beach in an inferno. The shockwave sent Drystan hurtling, his body crashing into the sand, tumbling across glass and debris.

Pain flared everywhere. His arm—the one that held the detonator—was stripped bare, the armor shredded, revealing scorched flesh beneath the skintight covering. His chest heaved as he tried to breathe, armor cracked, leaking metal fluid that mixed with blood, pooling in crimson droplets against the charred and glassed beach.

Concussed, battered, and barely clinging to consciousness, he forced himself up onto an elbow, glass crunching beneath him.

Still alive.

 

[Connel Vanagor]

"In my experience,
when you think you
understand the Force,
you realize just
how little you know"​

[COMM TRAFFIC]
LOCATION : Woostri - Gopsthal | OBJECTIVE : Defend the Core | TAG (FRIENDLY) : Ran Serys (Indirect)| Corazona von Ascania (Indirect) | Taam Moghul | Nir Si | Lycus Merita | Shan Pavond
TAG (FOE) : Madrona A’Mia (Indirect) | Jhyrack (Near) | @Kasir Doran (Nearby)

The team was working fast, as quickly as “Azrael” and “Michael” could put together shaped charges, Connel could set the charges in the high places (sides of buildings) while “Gabriel” set them in the other areas that were low and close. Let’s face it, Connel is faster with the added ability of the Force. They were using every single bit of their tricks and training in stealth to keep out of site but able to set up the shaped charges in a manner and position that not only reinforced Shan Pavond ‘s own traps he set up, but make them that much more dangerous for the Sith.

They were all well into the experience of the Battle Meditation that Iris Arani was employing. Connel was aware of what it would bring him but the team seemed to be more and more “enveloped” into it. Soon the entire advance had at least some sort of traps set up. Now it was a matter of making it even more difficult by reinforcing them even more, all the way up to the doors, and the hole created by the errant speeder.

They were “reloading” with more charges when Connel could hear it.

Connel Vanagor I could use you at my position. Got a ton of hostiles. My lightsaber can't cut it. Literally. Doing what I can...to hold them off to let people evacuate...But they have flamethrowers...and it feels like they don't even need to reload.

Connel then showed just how much his father’s genes and influence was in him, he was mad but he was about to see something else amazing.

Knight Shan Pavond is getting overrun in the Southern Flank. He’s calling for help.

Wait? Did you say “Southern”? The 44th is there? They’re just medics! They… SON OF A…

MY WIFE IS IN THE 44TH! I’m going with you.

They’re not heavy combat trained! I am too!

I can’t ask you…

... you’re not we’re all in this. I’m going too. In the middle of this, “Azrael” seemed to be “picking it up” and building even faster, almost like he was being challenged to a race. His fingers flew across the keyboard, each keystroke a defiant response to the escalating chaos around him. The room buzzed with tension, but Azrael remained focused, determined to outpace the growing threat. He was building charges even faster than he and “Michael” were together a moment ago.


It’s decided then, go. We’ll finish here.

I got you covered Azrael. Then Gabriel started handing over his grenades, and a couple of shaped charges. “Michael”(Bren) then took out his Vibro-Combat knife and handed it over.

Take these… just in case.

If you need to bail…

GO! This is what we signed up for! This is our job! We trust you, trust us! “Azrael” wasn’t trying to be a jerk, but they were getting nowhere standing here trying to convince him. Connel knew that they were right.

Let’s move. Turning his locator beacon on, Connel blazed a trail assisted by the speed of the Force out of there and headed to the Southern Flank. He did not wait, because he knew that “Barachiel”, “Jeremiel” and “Raphael” would follow. When he reached the Southern flank, Connel could see just how bad it was, pulling his sabers, he went to the attack, slashing at a fireteam as he ran by…

… little effect.

His main weapon did cut into the armor, but the effect was so minimal it might as well have been a glancing blow. He did not have time to think about it, putting the weapons away, and pulled his Lightblaster as well as Combat Shield and resigned himself to doing this the hard way.

They want to rely on this armor? It would be their tombs. He centered his mind and used the Force for little more than running around and jumping when he needed to, his awareness would naturally spike thanks to his training as a Guardian.

They were not simply backing down at the site of him, but their weapons fire had the same effect on his shield as the lightsaber was to theirs. Using his athleticism to his advantage, and the gear he was carrying to its fullest he had a plan. The first three would see one getting hooked by the rappelling line that shot out of his right vambrace and a Force push that not only sent them flying but the maximum length of the line “snapping” them to the floor.

That one was now a weapon to him…

Levitating the trooper and spinning around, using him like a bolo, Connel sent the trooper flying into the others. Leaping through and spinning around in the air, he landed on another and a point blank shot to the head from his lightblaster worked. He broke the armor, if only on the face, a brutal ending that might haunt him later, but he had not worried about that now. Another was coming and here came Father’s training of the Force Crush.

A Force assisted throw of a cryoban grenade sent it into a group just as it exploded. The frozen haze did not stop them, but slowed them heavily just the other three made it. “Barachiel” was doing his best as the team Corpsman to help evacuations and with wounded, starting with Shan Pavond , they needed another Jedi in the fight. “Jeremiel” was taking headshot after headshot and “Raphael” was drawing fire to give the sniper those targets.

Connel was now taking groups of Sith Troopers out, one at a time. It was not easy, and it was time consuming, but he too was drawing fire.

Get out of there! We can cover you!

I’m giving you targets… as long as I am the threat… you can still cover… Several of the Sith Troopers heard this and started to continue their onslaught of the line, but this only made Connel angrier, Force throwing these walking tin cans into each other.

Catch!

Raphael threw a shaped charge to the Shadow who put it on the back of one of the troopers. He then started moving and pushing them all closer together. “Barachiel”, “Raphael” and “Jeremiel” saw this and used covering fire to do the same. Several of the GADF Forces saw this too, until…

BOOM

The explosion ripped through the ground and sent Sith flying.

This gave Connel more weaponry, ripping the very ground out from under them.

They were horribly outnumbered, but the line would hold.

It would.hold.

Galactic Alliance 305th Special Forces Unit - Codename "Omega Squad"

Spoiler: TEAM AND LOADOUT

Michael - Team Leader, Gabriel - Tech, Azrael - Explosives, Raphael - Heavy, Barachiel - Combat Medic, Sariel - Sniper 1,Jeremiel - Sniper 2

[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation][/B]

 

[Zachariah Conway]

Location: Woostri
Tags: Drystan Creed | Commodore Helix | Darth Strosius | Srina Talon & The Academy Gang
Equipment: Lightsaber | Sith Armour | Helmet
​

​

Everything hurt.

Which at least meant he wasn't dead. Dead people typically didn't feel extreme pain tearing through every limb and body part that they had. Dead people typically felt nothing except extreme bliss as they went off to meet whatever diety they believed in.

There was a smell of burning penetrating the young boys senses, a smell that Zachariah couldn't place. He wasn't sure if it was a smell coming from him, his foe or the battle around them. It was a putrid smell, like flesh being scortched away.

Zachariah forced his eyes open and was almost blinded by the light. Rain was pelting against his face and his body, the armour that Commodore Helix had made for him torn and battered but had kept him alive and still continuing to protect him from the rain.

Underneath him was glass and it took him a few moments to figure out that he was on his back. He was still on the beach of Woostri, the beach which his grandmother had turned to glass when she'd smashed into it at excessive speed with her vessel.

In his mind, he began to map out exactly what had happened. He'd been utilising force lightning against his foe and he had been winning. The the Jedi had pulled out a device and everything had gone bang. He now realised the device had been a thermal detonator. The explosion had blown the duo apart and both had managed to clear some serious distance.

Forcing himself up to his knees, the Sith Knight let out a breath he realised he'd been holding for quite a while. He gave himself a quick once over with his eyes. He was battered and bruised but appeared to be whole. Some of his robes had been burnt and had clearly been on fire at one point but otherwise he seemed pretty much okay.

With some effort, the young boy forced himself back to his feet. Shards of glass poured from him and tumbled back down to the newly formed glass beach. There was still a mission to complete, and it was unlikely his foe had survived the explosion that he'd used to try and take him out.

It took a few steps for Zachariah to get some feeling back into his extremities. Being blown up by a close range thermal detonator sucked, that much he confirmed. Darth Malum of House Marr hadn't included anything in his training regime about dealing with close range explosions designed to kill.

Well, if nothing else, the armour had served it's purpose. It could be repaired, as much as he was almost certain Commodore Helix would give him a lecture about not ruining expensive armour. The sociopathic droid with murderous tendancies had made the armour to withstand the fire from starships and it had been dented and battered by a thermal detonator.

As a bonus, the explosion and the resulting shockwave had blown him closer to the shield that protected the city. The data that they'd been sent to Woostri was within grasp, all Zachariah had to do was wait for Srina Talon 's EMP blast to cause a fluxation in the shield.

Once there was a fluxation, in he'd move. The real fight was occuring within the city and he was right in the middle of it.

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Woostri
Outside Central Archive and Computation Building
Reuniting with Corazona von Ascania
Adjacent: Connel Vanagor and Lysander von Ascania
Soundtrack​

As the whipping winds increased and the storm itself took on a metaphysical air, A'Mia seemed to swell a bit with the darkness stirred up by her compatriots. It was hectic to say the least but the Sithspawn puppet master continued to focus on the task at hand, accounting for her surroundings so as not to be caught unaware despite her eager focus on Cora.

The Force repulse caused A'Mia and one of her spawn to skid backward, while the tumbleweed like creature had its form stretched and loosened and a few trailing vines blown off as it clung stubbornly to the nearby architecture. The neti used the backward momentum to blindly scrabble up the wall of a nearby building, seeking the high ground like a playful cephalopod clambering with many snaking limbs.

"No more perverse than predator and prey, no different from adaptation through mutation," she chided as her voice took on an ethereal quality— carried on the wind and given psychic weight through the Force.

Just as A'Mia thought to strike back once more, several things happened. A choking and cloying fear began to spread across numerous points of the battlefield which made its way into the periphery of the neti's awareness. At the same time a squelching shriek arose, from the spawn that had clung close despite Cora's rebuff, as it was suddenly struck with a blast from behind. In truth, Darkside energy couldn't harm the Sithspawn overmuch but it enraged the creature enough that A'Mia's increasingly tenuous hold on it slipped. Annoyed with loss of limb from the opposition it faced and hungry to replace biomass, the shambling vine turned to begin careening in the direction from whence the blast came. Though wounded, the thing was still massive and interjected itself between "friend" and "foe" alike, having no concept for anything other than the need to devour.

The moment A'Mia lost control of one spawn, she reasserted her will over the other and summoned a fresh one from the ferrus sphere necklace. The new creature roared into existence to continue the assault on Cora as its kin made to flank. Their tactic this time was assault through a thousand cuts— dozens of long limbs shooting out to try striking with barbed vine tips at exposed skin and to snag at fine clothing.

"Von Ascania-" A'Mia sang into the roaring wind as her spawn continued their unrelenting assault despite any loss of mass they suffered, "An uncommon name even in this wide galaxy of ours. I do wonder how dear Lysander is doing in all this mayhem."

It was nontraditional she supposed, to use a bit of Dun Möch via Sithspawn duel, but Darth Caedes had not yet told A'Mia she couldn't so she gave it a playful try. Her bulky form clung to the side of a building now as she "watched" with far seeing eyes, her vision completely melded with her pets.

Spoiler: Spoiler Summary

A'Mia and one spawn forced back, darkness and psychological/ neurotoxin warfare at play nearby courtesy of Quinn Varanin and Darth Nefaron . Lysander von Ascania earns himself detention and A'Mia takes the High-ground TM as she continues to puppet spawn.

 

[Tigris]

Objective 3: Knowledge

​

Allies: Lupa Visz | Jessikal Skea | Gress D'ran | Shan Pavond ] | Everest Vale | | Katherine Holt

Opposition: PvE, Open

Gear: Black Enclave Guardian Mantle, Lightsaber, NJO Utility belt (packed with med supplies), Echo Stone, commlink, vibroknife


Tigris looked over at Everest as they stalked down a dark alley. The cacaphony of fighting was a symphony of constant distant booms and almost deafening close explosions, all accentuated by the riddle of blaster bolts and the sound of things dark and terrible. In the distance, streaks of crimson lightning cracked from a nefarious storm. They couldn't see all that was going on out there, where the Sith had landed.

They weren't soldiers, they were padawans. They were by no means helpless, however. They were Jedi trained, and each with their own flavor of martial arts. Tigris came with another set of skills that were useful. Not in a full scale battle, but in the shadows, the fringes, in the alleys. It was the only reason Tigris could think of to explain why the two of them were sent out together, and unattached to a unit. They were equipped with med supplies, to help with wounded. But they could also cut off stray Sith, infiltrators or otherwise undetected enemy movements.

The streets were already littered with rubble from the bombings and destroyed defense droids. Tigris guided her companion through smaller alleys and between buildings to keep them hidden. It would be easier to employ her gifts in the Force to conceal them there if necessary. It was too difficult to do so while they moved.

Tigris was against Everest even being there, not that she had any say in it. Her desires were more selfish and personal, and she knew that was dangerous. But she kept the Echani close, instructed her as much as she could in the art of stealth, both before and as they went along. Clad in her black guardian mantle, she moved just ahead of Everest, when she saw movement in some rubble where the alley opened onto a ruined street. It was a GADF soldier. She paused, holding a silent hand up to still Everest.

Tigris focused for a moment, reaching for the Echo stone under her mantle. She tuned her senses to the Dark Side. Of course, the place was awash with it. The former darksider found it more intense than ever. She picked out a few especially dark spots. Strong ones, but they were distant. Tigris then motioned Eve closer, pointing to the soldier. "GADF, wounded, be careful, it might be a trap." Tigris warned. She took Everest's hand and guided her to the wounded woman's side. "See what you can do, I'll keep watch." The tattooed padawan knelt and created a concealing shield that bent light and hid them. The Seyugi had left her scarred, but also quite talented.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Secure the Data
Tags: Commodore Helix / Open!
------------------------------------------

"I like the sound of that." The closer their goal was the better, lingering in the midst of a warzone without a proper force alongside them was far from ideal to say the least. Neither the commodore nor Darth Strosius Himself were any strangers to combat or even outright warfare of course but they weren't here to bring the forces on Woostri to their knees, they were here to gain an advantage over the Alliance as a whole. The long war always mattered more than any one battle, and even if this one would prove decisive then He assumed that the Mors Mon itself had brought more than enough forces to get the job done.

"As long as our exit is secured then our success is assured." He cast a glance at the droid accompaniment that would be guarding their shuttle and although He wasn't the most familiar with droid design He knew well enough that they could handle themselves when trouble arose. Given the battle at hand though a stray bit of artillery or fire from orbit could easily accomplish what standard forces could not, and without any real intention of harm to them in particular in the process. Luck was the other side of the coin when it came to winning war, skill alone was often not enough.

He hoped that the droids and their shuttle would be lucky enough to remain intact by the time they returned from their little incursion. "Let us make haste then, as busy as our foes might be even I know better than to expect the Alliance to leave their flanks open for long. Two infiltrators or two hundred matters little when those blessed with the Force are at play." A single Sith Lord in the back lines of their enemy could turn the tide of battle in moments and He was well aware that the Alliance had more than enough experience with Sith to know that fact and account for it. If they did indeed have an opening, it wouldn't stay that way for long.

Despite the rain soaking His heavy robes the masked Sith didn't at all seem bothered by them nor by the conditions at all, gesturing for Helix to lead the way towards their target even as He set off towards it Himself. "If I may ask Commodore, is this nostalgic for you at all? Doing battle against Jedi and their forces just as you did in the past? They're a far cry from the Outer Rim scum that we've cleansed together before, but your previous experience should still hold true yes?"

 

[Commodore Helix]

Objective: Reach the data center.
Equipment: Flamestaff, Horror Matrix, E-4H Blaster Carbine.
Tags: Darth Strosius
OPEN for any interaction.

​

Helix scurried off the beach and through the ruin-strewn streets with Alisteri in tow, occasionally shifting his form to better accommodate obstructions or roadblocks. Once, he glided easily into the shape of a great, many-legged worm, scuttling up and over the side of a tumbled building. He seldom checked to see if the Sith was keeping up; he knew all too well how quickly and easily his compatriot could move.

"Agreed." He said as they moved. "We are on a somewhat tight timetable, but the lack of any substantial resistance so far is an encouraging sign. It seems we may rely on the wider Order to occasionally be of some use." He wondered if Zachariah Conway was still alive. If not, he knew he could look forward to a lot of paperwork after the battle.

He pondered Strosius' question for a moment. It was somewhat uncommon for him to ask such things, but Helix figured he at least owed the man an honest answer, after all they'd been through. "In a way, yes." He said after a long pause. "With my great age comes perspective. I've seen the Jedi rise and fall again and again, the same as I have seen your order rise and fall. I have observed before that the galaxy seems trapped in stasis. Sometimes stasis is comfortable. Nostalgic, even. It also means death. Rot. An inability to embrace evolution."

He knew Strosius held very strong opinions on how the Order should go about its business, opinions that had gotten him into trouble, so he picked his words with a certain degree of tact. "I will give the Sith credit: they do occasionally attempt to reinvent themselves, to shed their chrysalis and emerge as something greater. Of course, that typically takes a revolution of sorts, and revolutions are seldom peaceful."

"From bloodshed, however, sprouts change and growth. The Jedi do not change. I would almost say they seem to pride themselves on being unchanging. Were it not for the advances in technology, I could almost still convince myself that we were walking through one of the battlefields of the Clone Wars now. The same old story, fighting for ephemeral, utopian concepts that they idealize."

He fell silent again for a long moment, then continued. "Yes, it is nostalgic, in a way. But also disappointing, to see the cycle continue again and again. Children battling over scraps amidst the smoking ruins of what came before. That is one reason I support the Sith so fervently, and throw countless credits and droids at your every request. Specifically, your sort of Sith. The galaxy needs to be dragged kicking and screaming from its state of stasis, and only a small few seem to realize it. True, you wish to see rulers cast down from their thrones for religious reasons, and I for philosophical ones. In the end, though, these are simply different roads to the same destination. Change, if it comes, will only come through blood, and there are no greater bloodletters than the Sith Order."

It was probably the first time he had actually explained his motives to one of his allies; but then, it was the first time anyone had asked his opinion in depth. He halted suddenly. "We are here." He said. "Discreet entry, or dynamic entry?"

 

[Everest Vale]

Location: Woostri, City Streets
Outfit: Battle Tunic, Padawan Robe
Equipment: Valery Noble's Lightsaber (1), Backpack, Bacta supplies
Tag: Tigris

The looming storm made Eve increasingly anxious. With worried eyes, she glanced up at the tendrils of shattered red glass that split through the black smoke-like clouds that consumed the sky, staining the whole skyline a crimson black. Clutching nervously at her master's lightsaber, she kept as close to Tigris as she could.

Even in the thick of war, Tigris was surprisingly tender with the way she looked at her, spoke to her, guided her through the streets. Eve's eyes darted about frantically, her heart at a constant state of near-panic, and she earnestly tried to remain aware of their surroundings. She trusted her love, who was so diligently protecting her, but she knew she would have to act too.

And then the moment came.

A young woman lay crumpled there, the occasional groan coming from her, as she helplessly, aimlessly shuffled through the rubble. She couldn't have been much older than Eve, and her green eyes looked at her with abject concern and shock. Her face was bloody, but her body was worse; contorted and crushed beneath the weight of the rubble that had attempted to bury her alive, pierced in multiple places across her torso and limbs by bits of stone, glass, metal. Aside from her mumbling moans, she seemed incapable of speech.

"GADF, wounded, be careful, it might be a trap. See what you can do, I'll keep watch."​

Panic set in as Eve came down to her knees. There was so much blood, and the young woman looked up to her desperately, her dulled eyes begging for it to be okay. Eve started shaking uncontrollably.

Get it together, Eve... There is no emotion, there is peace... There is no emotion, there is peace...

There was so much shrapnel in her, she would have to remove it all before she even thought about healing it, with bacta or otherwise. She reached for a large shard of glass that was wedged in her side. It was... deep.

"W-we need to..."

But as she reached shakily for the glass, the woman's only usable, bloodstained hand clutched at her desperately, squeezing Eve's arm so hard it caused a noise to escape her. Unable to say anything, her eyes did all the talking, and as they locked with her own, Eve started to understand the situation. Her shaking became greater as the realisation slowly crept up along her whole being like a slowly creeping millipede. She couldn't be saved.

Tears started to fall from her, as she helplessly watched this dying woman in her grasp. She could do something, couldn't she? All she would need was bacta, which she had. But the amount of wounds about her were so great, and her silent eyes had already communicated so much to her. Eve forced control over her breathing again, and closed her eyes, allowing a small trickle of Light to flood into the soldier's mind. As tears streamed down her own face, she willed the Force to make this poor woman feel at peace in her final moments, free from the pain and suffering of the moment. Unable to break eye contact, Eve watched as the light finally left her eyes, and a final exhale marked a new, unsettling silence.

Her shaking had returned, this time far more violently, as she could feel an intense dread at the pit of her stomach. The woman's blood had stained all over her robe, and the very sight of it all over her made her panic as the weight of the moment started to set in.

"T-Tig—" she tried to manage through tears.

But before she could finish, blaster fire rung down the street.

 

[Katherine Holt]

Location: Woostri, Gopsthal City
Objective: Overwatch & Help Hold Back the Sith Forces
Gear: Lightsaber (Physical Crossguard)/Lightsaber Pike | Armour
Allies: Lupa Visz | Jessikal Skea | Gress D'ran | Shan Pavond | Everest Vale | Tigris | Everest Vale | Tigris (GADF/NJO)
Enemies: Tamsin Graves | Alana Calloway (Sith Order)

Katherine took slow and steady steps towards the enemies firing at her. Lightsaber rising and falling in measured movements, reflecting the blaster bolts back towards their sources. Some angled off in different directions, others struck true and slammed into the soldiers chest or helmet.

She was using a measure of intimidation to get the remaining troopers to back off. It wouldn’t have been hard to just dash into the middle, dispatch them with swift strikes of her lightsaber. But this was a battlefield, rash actions like that had a chance of landing her into risky situations.

And that intuition paid off.

She caught sight of a young woman, obscured by a pair of soldiers that had been standing before her, until they had been taken down by their own blaster bolts. For a moment she seemed almost out of place, but then Katherine noticed another soldier beside her, seemingly focused solely on the raven-haired woman.

A personal bodyguard? Escort?

To Katherine, something seemed off about the situation, but she brushed it off as just the effects of the storm raging above. Her thoughts towards the soldier were confirmed when she caught sight of them raising a particular large blaster pistol in her direction. That’s definitely not a standard issue. firearm.

She quickly raised her arm and projected a blast of the Force outwards within the same moment Alana fired her weapon. But rather than the verpine bolt be knocked aside, it somehow managed to pivot, track back around and aim towards the Valkyrie again.

Thinking quickly on her feet, Katherine moved aside and ducked, just barely avoiding the bolt as it struck a nearby building, showering her with small pieces of debris.

Whatever the hell that thing was, it packed one hell of a punch.

Not willing to take any chances, the Valkyrie used the Force to grab a large chunk of debris, placing it between herself and the enemy. It wouldn’t last forever if it kept getting stuck by verpine bolts, but it would be enough.

Especially as Katherine began to feel a wave of energy wash over her, as the Battle Meditation from Iris started to reach her.

 

[Gress D'ran]

Tag: Ysennia Lee Festerruman Sachiel Jessikal Skea Darth Nefaron @
The 34th:​

Spoiler

"Firestorm" Walker Company:

• Vehicles:
  
  • x2 Sphinx Siege/Command Walkers
    • Cerberus
    • Kraken
  • x6 Thundercat Mark II Heavy Assault Walkers
    • Solo II
    • Large And In Charge
    • Big Cat
    • Showstopper
    • Noble Intentions
    • Jenny
  • x7 Tiger Medium Assault Walkers
    • Undertaker
    • Frankly My Dear
    • Strutter II
    • Winds of Change
    • Red Six
    • Fires of Coruscant
    • Evolution
  • x3 GAIFW-34 Nexus
    • Fury
    • Thunderbolt II
    • Edith
    • Cobra King
    • Blood and Guts
    • In The Mood V
  • x12 Bobcat Light Walkers

"Krayt" Artillery Platoon:

• Equipment:
  
  • x6 Screaming Falcon Artillery Walker
    • Guns A Go Go
    • Sweet Child O Mine
    • Chrome Dome
    • Hutt Busters
    • Endor's Finest
    • Splash Zone

"Midnight Train" Support Platoon:

• Equipment:
  
  • x2 GADS Roc Drop Ship
    • Mercy
    • Innocence
  • x2 Ziio LAATs
    • Thunderbird
    • Prettybird
  • x4 GASB Cheetah Scout Speeder
    • Barry
    • Wally
    • Bart
    • Jay

The last few minutes were a bombardment of not just attacking artillery, but also information. First came the walkers, pushing the beachhead. Ravens watched from above, as Gress catagorized each and every one. The river had been dredged the day before, making it deep enough he could trust only massive walkers could cross it unaided, but he knew better than to not expect the sith to bring some new toy up.

"Gunners, aim for their command positions. Whatever complex they're building, I want it wiped off the beach."

"Aye sir!"

"Ion batteries, fire when ready on their positions. Phones, relay orders to the Kraken and Stormpiercer. I want their entire armor escorts taken out. We're moving on to phase 2."

"Copy! Hellstomper Bravo to Stormpiercer, moving on the phase two."

The next moments were filled with a defeaning roar. The first to fire were the 8 barrels of the two Hammer Batteries on each Sphinx, aiming for the back line of the enemy command complex. With the line of sight the walkers could see, no relay with the Ravens was needed. They could see the beach from here with the complex sensors of the Sphinx.

Then came the thundering roar of the twin Thunderer Batteries, designed to destroy Frigates in a single blast, enough firepower to level a city block. Aimed right at what the Ravens had identified as the command bunker, the four bolts of heavy plasma arced over the city, and into the enemy complex.

Then finally, both siege walkers lurched back, as their massive ion batteries fired, aiming right at the enemy walker formation. Gress figured that would be enough to shock the enemy into regrouping, while the next part of the plan came about.

At least, he thought. The sith always had a trick up their sleeves.

"Sir! We've got reports of enemy infiltrators hitting out back lines!"

Damnit. Shift focus, always keep on top of things.

"Get Midnight Train out there! Have the LAATs straff them while the men push in!"

"Aye sir! Hellstomper Bravo to the Birds, we've got enemies in the rear! Hit them with a run then get the platoon in there!"

​

Sitting behind the lines, being the logistics Sergeant in charge of a LAAT wasn't the most glamorous job. A lot of it was simply waiting at the supply depot, sitting around for calls for resupply. Sergeant "Frostbite" often found himself simply sitting with his binocs, imagining what was happening. The thunder of guns, the calls for fire. When he had signed up, he had went in to become an artillery officer like his dad, maybe a medic like mom was. Maybe being the son of two GADF veterans who had met on the battlefield was simply not enough nepotism to get him that position, because somewhere along the way, they had mixed up his paperwork.

Now he flew LAATs.

Not that he was complaining. He got to sit, listen to comms, and smoke while he kept track of who was dying.

It was a morbid thing, but he did it to pass the time. Switch to different frequencies, listen to different orders being yelled at, see who was getting shot at. Not against any rules, but it would probably get him yelled at if his superior found out.

"-They're hitting the bridge! Retreat! Ret-"

"-If I hear you crack a knock knock joke one more time I'll-"

"-Adjusting Fire for 2056-"

"-ellstomper Bravo to the Birds, we've got enemies in the rear! Hit them with a run then get the platoon in t-"

Wait...

The birds was him.

Chit!

He rushed to find that frequency again, before he saw his superior burst into his cockpit.

"We got orders! Prep for take off!"

"Right! Sorry!"

Pre-flight checklist. Where the hell did he put that check-list?!

​

The first thing to hit was that creeping barrage. 3 of the Bobcats were vaporized in a second, as an arty round smashed into them. Didn't even have the chance to name them, though Fran couldn't help but feel like this was only the beginning.

Then came the gas.

That was the mark he needed.

"Fighting retreat! Hit them with everything we have!"

The Thundercats and Tigers adjusted their aim. Mortars began precise bombardment of the enemy combat engineers, preventing any approach other than the already active bridges. All the while the 10th Infantry began to retreat, seemingly in fear. Tigers pushed to the front, setting up in front of each bridge to create a corridor of death, opening up with all four of their sponson cannons, as the Thundercats slowly began their retreat.

All the while, the 3 remaining Nexus opened up with their Mass Driver Cannons as they fell back, firing HEAT shells at the enemy walkers one by one, aiming right for their missile racks, before following up with their own missile pods, firing a total of 9 CHOMP Rockets as they pulled back into the city.

Finally, the Bobcats, which seemed to act as a bulwark of blaster fire, began to pull back, using their launchable cables to use buildings as leaping pads.

Phase 2 was to begin in earnest now.
Summery:

Spoiler

Gress orders full bombardment from the Sphinxes on the enemy command post.
The Sphinxes fire their full ion barrage on enemy armor companies.
Midnight Train deploys two LAATs to intercept the enemy infiltration of the rear, while the infantry platoon pushes in to assist.
Firestorm begins tactical retreat. The gas overwhelms them!
Thundercats use precision shelling to prevent any further bridgeheads.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

DIRECT TAGS: Veradun Sharr
INDIRECT TAGS: Credius Nargath Darth Callidus Lycus Merita Nos Voros Connel Vanagor Festerruman Sachiel Ysennia Lee OPEN!
EQUIPMENT: Mind-Breaker Toxin Injection Gauntlet, Grenades​

The canister soared through the air, landing across the river and into the midst of a GADF defensive post. There was silence at first, but no sooner did Veradun sink back into the ruins did a deluge of blaster fire spit from fortified buildings across the river. Though largely protected by the rubble, it would not be long until Alliance forces reported the Corpse Legion positions to their artillery.

Luckily, they didn’t get the chance.​

Nefaron silently directed the boy's gaze to a thick cloud of orangish smoke that had begun to drift gently on the opposite side of the river bank. While Nefaron did not have the time or resources to bathe the world in his toxins, the canisters he did have with him would be more than sufficient to clear out any hard points they encountered along the way. Should his plans proceed as he predicted, Nefaron could resupply his toxin with the squads of fresh Legionnaires from the landing zone. A select few were granted the honor of carrying the canisters as weaponry, especially those manning crude mortars that could launch the toxin further afield.

Soon, the sound of blaster fire from across the river began to grow quiet. Though difficult to separate from the roar of ships above and the thunderous roar of artillery, screams could be heard from GADF positions as the toxin took hold.

This was fear. Deep and primordial. Every horrible thing those troopers could imagine had come to life. ​

When the blaster fire began again, it was not directed at the Corpse Legion. Instead, it was heard within the defensive positions of the Alliance as troopers butchered each other or desperately sought escape from the torments they were forced to endure. This was Nefaron's true weapon, the weaponization of fear itself to ensure the victory of the Sith. Even on this small scale, a hole had been punched and with a single gesture, the Corpse Legioniares broke cover and began to head for the river. Some would swim, some would use hastily constructed rafts, some would use the chunks of rubble that remained from the destroyed bridges as islands. Nefaron held his Apprentice back, waiting until the first wave was near the middle of the river. It was then that several more Alliance positions opened fire on the Legionnaires who had little chance to save themselves.

They had been bait. Now Nefaron and Veradun would hunt.​

Nefaron passed two more canisters to his Apprentice, directing his gaze to points along the river.

"Again, my Apprentice. Let them all taste fear."​

With pride, the Corpse Lord watched as his loyal, worthy Apprentice carried out his work. The sadistic glee Nefaron felt could not be understated, for Veradun had proven to be more than a perfect Apprentice, he was becoming a being whose sadism and lust for power may just eclipse his own. But that vision had not yet come to pass, the boy was young and there was still so much he had to learn.

One after the other, the GADF positions grew silent, succumbing to the toxin and turning on each other. Those who managed to escape the clutches of the toxin began to pull back, the Corpse Legion having at last made headway on the opposite bank of the river. It was then that Nefaron, ever confident, strode from cover to one of the ruined bridges.

Then he felt it.

Death. So much glorious Death.​

The Corpse Lord turned his head to the sky and breathed deeply, allowing the raw power of the Dark Side to flow through him. The tide had shifted, and darkness had sunk its teeth into Woostri and now it was all but impossible to withstand its power.

Nefaron's arms extended, and from the corpse-filled water arose chunks of stone and duracrete. The broken chunks were held in place, the dark side providing the needed boost the Sith Lord needed to ensure they remained so as they prepared to cross. The next wave of Legionnaires watched as their master displayed his power in awe, their dark faith reinforced by the display.

"Forward. No Survivors."​

This was a gift to the Legionaries. Thunderous cheers went up as they surged forward over the broken chunks of the bridge, the call of slaughter the only reward they needed.

"Our time is now, Apprentice. The tide has turned toward the darkness and the Alliance is hopeless to push us back now."

Nefaron began his trek ramshackle bridge, expecting the boy to follow. With this natural obstacle conquered, they must now face the Alliance forces head-on.

"Embrace that rush of power. Let it consume your very being, let the terror and rage guide your hand. Slaughter any who oppose us, but do not fall behind. Our goal is the Data, let our servants taste blood and distract our foe."

Despite his own command to keep on task, Nefaron continued to walk. His path to the data center would be fraught with danger, but no mere trooper or walker could withstand his wrath. Besides, his Apprentice must now prove himself capable of defending his master, for without Nefaron the boy would be cast to the wolves, slaughtered by the Jedi and Alliance.

Once more, he must prove himself worthy. He must prove himself to be loyal.

Spoiler

Glory to the Sith!

Nefaron and Veradun have managed to clear out GADF positions on the river and the Corpse Legion has gotten its foothold. The Mindbreaker toxin has done its work in scattering those lacking the protection of armored vehicles and more Legionaries have pushed up from the landing zone to flood across the river.

With the surge of power from the Mors Mons destructive display, Nefaron managed to temporarily form a bridge over the river, allowing more and more Corpse Legionaries to flood over. However, Nefaron's power will end and he and his forces will be trapped on the Alliance side of the river until further Sith forces can forge their way across.

 

[Drystan Creed]

Tags:
Enemies: Zachariah Conway
Allies:
Equipment: Standard (In Bio) | A gift​

Drystan sucked in a ragged breath, forcing himself onto a knee. His chest burned, lungs grasping for air. With a shaky hand, he tapped the side of his helmet. The visor was cracked but still functional—enough to get the job done.

"Shadow Creed here. Lost sight of the Force user. Conducting search procedures."

His voice was steady, cold, professional. But underneath, pain gnawed at him. Everything hurt. Ribs ached with every breath, and his arm—caught at the center of the blast—throbbed, burned, screamed. His entire body pulsed with the relentless rhythm of blunt trauma.

Still, he had to move. He couldn't afford a second more of rest.

He gathered his senses, steadied his vision, then pushed forward—limping toward the smoldering crater.

Empty. Not incinerated. He knew better. The tracks leading away from the blast confirmed his assumptions.

Drystan clenched his jaw. Chasing the Sith down now would only get him more of the same. Or worse.

And then, he felt it. A shift in the Force. A deafening silence. A million voices, snuffed out in an instant.

His breath caught. Would he be next? Would he suffer the same fate if he took this path?

He shook his head, shutting the thought down. Doesn't matter. He still had a mission. He was a Shadow and he made an oath.

Pain clawed at him, his body begging for respite, to find comfort laying atop the glass-filled dirt. His mind reeled from the weight of what he had just felt, the back of it begging him to reconsider.

He ignored it all.

One step forward. Then another.

"This is Shadow Creed. I've got a trail. Pursuing target."

— Page Break —
​

Drystan reached the city's edge—and found his target waiting. Mapping the city had paid off—he quickly found the most efficient route back, and used it to cut his target off.

The Sith Knight would find him, yet again, in the way of his objective, just before the border.

Drystan's grip tightened around his saber. Blood dripped from his arm, his armor battered, his body worn, a pool of crimson forming under his boots. But he held his ground, blade igniting with a hiss as rain sizzled against the blue plasma.

Defiant. Unyielding.

"Sith!" His voice carried over the storm, burning with resolve. "I thought you said I wouldn't walk out of there alive?"

 

[Kartus Lok]

It had been a minute, ok perhaps a few for the repulsorlifts to power up and the device to start moving, but honestly, how bad could things have gotten in just a few minutes. When the squad had enter the landing castle to secure the cargo the enemy lines had been pushed back and there were no threats on the horizon and everything was calm. Now, the man walked out into…well into chaos.

Somehow a jedi infiltrator had managed to bypass all the troopers and support staff who had been pushing back the alliance forces and made it to the heart of their beachhead. Though, watching the jedi and the Empress sparring, their movements blurring and throwing up dust as they moved back and forth at super-human speeds the soldier couldn't really blame the support troops. It was almost impossible to watch them, let alone stop them, as much as he wanted to throw down and help he was almost as powerless as the rest of the troops the Jedi had snuck past.

Almost.

"Defensive formation, where there's one there may be more."

The man's voice snapped out the order as his eyes flicked around, as if he could spot another jedi infiltrator sneaking up on them by pure force of will as his rifle snapped up into a ready position. A quick look confirmed that there were no jedi immediately visible bearing down on them…not that that meant that none of the sneaky tricksters weren't nearby!

That calm gave Kartus a moment to breathe, to glance back at the ongoing contest between the Empress and her assailant. Time to focus enough that he could track them, almost track them, the barrel of his rifle dancing back and forth as he bit down on his lip, the flesh turning white beneath the pressure. The man's finger stroked the trigger for a moment before squeezing down, a bright blast of energy flashing out, bridging the distance between him and the Jedi in a heartbeat.

Got you.

Srina Talon | Judah Lesan | C1-1347

 

[C1-1347]

//: I'm Just C1-1347 //:
//: Abandoned Warehouse //:
//: Forgotten Clanker //: Kartus Lok //:

C1-1347 dreamed big. He whirled around, weaving through the debris of the warehouse. He could feel his beloved so close as she fought above this miserable world. Little arms reached up, knowing he should be up there repairing any issue, helping relay any command, and helping guide her storm. He was so close, yet so far away.

As his little clamps shut, a voice echoed near him. The wind rustled through his hair as he felt her calling him to come home. He was a changed astromech; all of his Zinder photos were erased only to be uploaded with his new ones, with his new look, and, of course, only set to find SSDs with their own weather systems. Mors Mon was the only one he needed.

The voice echoed again, calling to him, saying his name. Finally, as the daydream faded, the C1 realized that the voice wasn't his beloved - it belonged to another droid in the facility. Grumpy little toots echoed as the C1 made its way slowly towards the suffering B1. With a twist of its head, C1-1347 tousled his long mane like that devil fleshy Gerwald Leshner. "Boop woop dooo boop?" The C1 questioned; the B1 seemed intact - functioning well enough to escape itself. Could this be a trap set by other suitors of the Mors Mon - or by Gerwald? C1 paused, its own binary memory remembering other long-haired creatures, and wondered if this was all Judah Lesan ?

"Bewp, Doop, weeeeewwoooop? Boop Brep..." he asked. Despite his better judgment, the C1 moved closer to the crate and examined the issue. It poked the crate a few times and pulled at the wood, but it seemed pretty stuck. "Booop wooo," it said in a sad little tone, as the C1 figured its friend was going to be stuck for good. "Womp, womp," it moved back and started to head the other way but stopped.

C1 needed to be different. Little gears on its face frowned, showing its determination. It would save this B1, and they both shall go to the Mors Mon! B1 could tell of this C1's bravery in saving it. Suddenly, C1-1347 lifted from the ground and fired itself like a small lusciously haired rocket towards the crate.

CRACK!

The crate shattered, and the C1 landed, and with a little twist of its head, those luscious gorgeous locks flowed out from in front of its eyes. "Beop boop demo weewwoop dooop weep weep, weeewooppppaaaaa?" C1 expressed their mission now that they were both free. Remembering that the B1 said it needed lubricant, the little window on the C1 opened up. It sprayed its new companion down - hopefully catching the servos.

"Weeoo woop" ​

 

[Srina Talon]

Ally Tag: Sith Order - Kartus Lok
Enemy Tag: GA - Judah Lesan
Location: Now on the Beach - Outskirts of Gopsthal
Equipment: Robes | Saber | Ring | Ring
Ship: Landing Castle x | Cruiser [Requiem] x | Frigates [3] | Beacon
______________________________________________________

Whispers filled the air and mingled with the low hum of the Landing Castle in such a way that it might give the Jedi Master a touch of tinnitus. The same unrelenting dark that he had witnessed on the Moon of Echnos would be obvious. It held to her, effortlessly, like a cloak made of the coldest place in space. The emptiness that could be found between stars, the void, that beckoned like some sleeping titan. She watched him struggle to his feet. Watched, while he decimated the South Star Droids without any real effort at all. He was less fragile than he had been.

Good.

It left more for her to break.

He was also quick. Quicker, than before. The glass storm that she had conjured—one that should have left him flayed, bleeding, ruined—stopped midair. Suspended. The soft sound of the shards hitting one another was almost musical among the deep growl of artillery breathing fire over the horizon in the distance. The Sith Empress felt a subtle shift in the Force, the tension when he reached out, willing them to still like a wall between them. His breath was controlled… But she heard the exhale, noted, the relief in his chest that he had survived. That he had managed to stop it.

Just in time. How very…tedious of him. Delaying, the inevitable.

The echoes of Srina Talon moved as one, circling Judah like demonic wraiths cut of the same pale cloth. Chaos raged outside the shield of the D1, but within their formation, there was only stillness. There was no flicker in the Force to distinguish between them. No flaw in their step. No deception of the eye to betray which was the true Empress. They were all her to some degree. And they spoke.

"Are all Jedi so prone to lying to themselves?"

One tilted her head.

"If the Alliance did not send you…You chose to hunt, the hunter."

Another stepped closer.

"Did you believe I would run? That I would yield?"

The next voice was quieter.

"Forgive?"
​

Laughter. The softest exhale, barely a breath, yet the way it threaded through the back of his mind would likely be worse than if she had struck him again. It was pervading. Made of bitter steel and cream where it sought to chase the very air from his lungs. The hope, from his heart. The fight for Woostri turned itself inside out and Srina forced herself to focus on what was right before her. Her children were capable—But often, found themselves alone. Pulling apart. Fighting apart.

Even from the beach, Srina could sense the unnatural, a creeping horror that moved near the riverbank and toward Gopsthal and the Archive. There was the distant scent of rot. Rancid meat with a few drops of cheap perfume mixed in. She did not need to see, to know, that something undead walked this world. She had encountered all manner of animated corpses throughout her time. Mirial. Atrisia. Felacat. Vendaxa. Zolan. There was also something more primal brewing. Fear.

It came from Quinn Varanin .

It came from Darth Nefaron .

It called to her, but in that moment, Judah Lesan finally made the choice about which of her forms to attack. Srina felt the pull the moment the Jedi reached outward, the invisible tug of the Force yanking one of her echoes forward toward his waiting saber. It would have been a clever move—had he chosen correctly. The air split as his sapphire blade hummed and carved upward, perhaps, seeking her throat.

The doppelgänger staggered, caught in his grip—But it was not her. The Empress was behind him. Already there. Her voice would arrive too close to his ear, touched, with a shroud of snarling darkness. It would echo inside him as if she'd shot a slugthrower into a metal box where the ammunition ricocheted around like bees in a hive. Stinging, puncturing. He thought he saw her?

"Wrong."​

Before he could recover, before he could realize his mistake, she struck.

Her hand collided with the center of his back, a sharp, brutal palm thrust aimed at his spine. The impact should have sent him lurching forward and straight into a clone that vaporized when his weapon collided with it. Srina wouldn't give him a second of peace, relentless—

"Ri Typhojem, tave Jidai marisas.
Tave qorit midwan prasi kia dvasia tave alkai.
Penumbra buti nuyak jen'krevas."

His words echoed through more than air, but through the spirit. Even those in other ships would hear it like a whisper on the back of their neck. When the last word was uttered, Penumbra shuttered and quaked, then tore the Force open with its strike. The weapon did not hit a ship, nor did it hit the Grand Archive or Central Command, but rather a population center far from the bulk of the fighting. It was a minor target, with a minor detachment sent to deal with it.

But now it was ash.

Penumbra.

Srina felt him again, her monstrous and seething, beloved. Heard him in the core of her being as nearly every force-sensitive individual might. Darth Empyrean was an exacting creature, not precise as she was, but exacting in the horrors he dreamed. A tear in the Force. A burst of blasphemous sin rained through her soul so swiftly that she barely had time to process what had happened. There was a burst in the sky. Something that looked like a landing castle, only, it wasn't falling. It had been thrown.

A city—One of the smaller ones. Gone.

She did not flinch, but she felt it, thousands of souls ripped from existence, their screams swallowed by fire and silence that was both deafening and blood-curdling. She would have been angry were it not for the fact that Empyrean…Empyrean had done, exactly, as she had asked. He hadn't hit Gopsthal. No. Not this city. Not this battle. Not the archive they had come to ransack and pillage for all it was worth. Her husband had been patient, expressing himself elsewhere.

The Corpse King had also sent a message. No mercy, no more.

Where there was a sudden loss of life a vacuum was left behind. The sheer callousness with which the Sith Order had wiped a city off the map would weigh heavily on the hearts of the Alliance that had come with the intent to safeguard it. Protect it. Win or lose…Nothing could undo the sacrifice of so many. Her darklings and her children would find the opposite. Strength.

Their unwitting sacrifice would fuel the Darkside, fuel, the Sith.

When the light faded the dark thrived.

<<…Sun and Sky…>>

The whispered thoughts would cross through the bond she shared with her husband with an ease that felt wrong. His response would mean everything, while the ground quaked, and the thin crust of Woostri seemed to bow and beg for any sort of relief. First the landing castle? Now this.

Gold-Hewn eyes left the direction of the massacre and returned to what appeared to be a stunned Judah Lesan. Her enemy, so prideful, so full of humor and hubris had seemingly been reduced to a shell that had forgotten about her. Things were so quiet now. The rain felt far away. The howling wind. The sound of the landing castle. It paled in comparison to the swell of midnight black power that made her gaze burn like hellfire. The Jedi was intentional. Well controlled. She could appreciate that.

But, he would also feel the loss of so many living, breathing creatures. It made him weak.

"Fight me."

Her voice was cold, but her enemy remained motionless.

"Fight me, Jedi."

Still nothing.

Fine.

Her mind moved, mostly forgoing comms as she often did, and members of the Sith Order that were near enough (and capable) would hear her directives. The tones the Empress used were smooth and absolute, cutting through the chaos, as if it weren't there at all.

<<The Emperor has spoken and a piece of Woostri has been permanently removed. There are fewer places now for the Jedi to scatter and hide when they hear you coming. All available must push into Gopsthal—Do not let the Alliance form another defensive line.>>​

" Commodore Helix …Several battalions of droids are on their way to you. Make contact again with Darth Latens and ensure Darth Strosius is with you. The Alliance will likely not take my husband expressing his mercy with any sort of grace. Be prepared, for enemy aggression."

Her next message was for Zachariah Conway – Whom, she could feel acutely. Her grandson wasn't unscathed in his work but he wasn't nearly as far along as she would have expected. Her own fight had stopped her from being able to keep track of multiple venues of combat. The fight across the riverbank was too hard to begin to try with out scanning equipment and map pings on her commlink. <<Do not let them win, child mine. You can make it through. I'm steering Commodore Helix and Darth Strosius your way. You must make progress, and push through. The longer we wait the more the Alliance will dig in…>>

The more they would need to burn them out.

The Empress reached behind her back and took out the same red lightsaber she had used for the last two decades. If Judah Lesan was so pitiful, so stunned to silence, that she could full-on give orders, direct battle droids, and perhaps, get a cup of tea—And he still wasn't moving?

The Jedi had given up.

She raised her blade and the red glow touched her alabaster face, rain-slicked, and gaunt in the light-less evening. "It is time that I grant your wish.", she murmured, though, the finality of it felt incorrect. Echani did not enjoy winning this way. Shooting fish in a barrel was…Unseemly. There was no fight. No skill. Everything that he had ever done had been reduced to nothing of import.

It was just a bitter end for a man who had made the mistake of standing in her way.

The crimson blade swung—But a blaster rifle shot from Kartus Lok sped by her.

Aimed directly at the frozen Jedi.

Spoiler: Summary

1.) Messed w/Judah - Spine punch.
2.) Recognized the mess Darth Empyrean made sending down a whole dinosaur obliterating rock...
3.) Recognized the fighting going on at the riverbank, with Darth Neffy
4.) Gave Helix, Zach, and Stro something to chew on.
5.) Gave the SO Sithies in general a wee push.
6.) Sent out droids as reinforcements, but notably, to Helix, Zach, and Stro.
Southstar Battle Droids
Droideka Mark II
Scarab Walkers

Take ur pick, enjoy.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Woostri, Data Center //:

//: Ko Vuto //: Colette //:
//: Kaila Irons //: Eira Dyn //:
//: Attire //:

The echoes of the dead screamed through the Force. Their cries reached and clawed to the living, wanting to not be alone in their last moments. Quinn felt them; she could feel them wanting her to give them attention and a voice to use as they cried. Something inside her pulled at them, devouring their despair and using it to become stronger.

She hovered, the rain continuing to pour, beating down upon them. The Jedi dared face them, but she respected their desire to defend the world. All of this was their fault. Did they not understand that? A woman close to her age stepped forward, and a calming sensation coursed through her. Within the Force, Quinn could only see her stand differently - weaving and controlling the space around her. It was a curious counter to the storm and the energy the Echani controlled. Still, the effort was futile. She was empowered; nothing could stop her.

Colette's attack shot forward, and its strength surprised her. The Jedi seemed to have more bite than expected. A hand reached out towards the oncoming attack, and like an omnipotent god, the Echani summoned down thick crimson tendrils of lightning, defending her from the water and debris. The same hand waved downward as the storm bent to her will, causing several more strikes to surround the Jedi who had dared face her.

Her eyes were pure ivory as the storm continued to draw upon her for strength, fueled by the deaths that followed the Emperor's attack. Another barrier fell around her mind as the dread and horrors continued to spill from her, bleeding into the minds of the defenseless. The reaches of darkness began to grip the minds of the Jedi, folding and drawing them into some of their more twisted horrors - memories.

---

Shan Pavond

Darkness began to curl around the Mirialan's mind. Whispers began to haunt the man, Could have saved her, could have protected her. At first, they were easy to shake off, easy to ignore, and push forward. Yet, they continued, growing louder, growing more familiar. The voice belonged to a woman, one that was familiar to the Jedi. She screamed, and images of a woman suffering. She called for Shan and screamed for him to save her. Help me! Why weren't you here, Shan? Save me! Shan, Shan, Shan, Shan! Her voice screeched, as suddenly the Jedi would feel the ground under their knees.

The world around him was dark, and the battlefield faded. No longer was the Jedi on Woostri. The gold durasteel of a barrel caressed the back of his head, running through his dark hair, as a man yelled in frustration. "WHERE WERE YOU?" The voice was again familiar. "WHY DIDN'T YOU PROTECT HER!?" The barrel of the blaster pressed into the back of the Jedi's head.

"Worthless"
​

---

Quinn could feel his pain, feeding off the horrid memories. Others felt it, becoming lost in their sorrow. Quinn's full attention was on the Noble girl, and she could see along the surface of the woman's mind. Almost instantly, a heavy wave of the Force Horror threatened to encompass Colette's mind, clawing deeply into the recesses of her psyche. Each deep scratch, bite, tear - screams of the dead, crying and blaming the Jedi for not protecting them.

The Jedi started this; it was all their fault. Memories of the Force pressed into Colette's mind of her Master, the Worm, and planets burning. Nothing made sense, but the images continued to flash faster and faster till nothing was left but the screams of the dead.

Deep within the recesses of her own mind, Quinn watched. Her body was puppeted by the dark side of the Force. Kaila and Eira were fighting to keep the Jedi away from her. She wanted to reach out, to help Kaila, seeing her dive into the heart of danger. A warmth would feel the Vahla woman, the Knight's bond with the Echani Sorceress. Power would surge between them, she the Goddess, and her the loyal Protector.

 

[Shan Pavond]

Objective: Slow down Sith Forces and protect the 44th.
Tags: Indirectly interacting with Jessikal Skea and Quinn Varanin
Battle Meditation from Iris Arani and Zaiya Ceti
Directly interacting with Connel Vanagor
Equipment: Armour, Blaster, Lightsaber

The dark was strange. It was a lack of light, sound, and touch, an absence in life. In a way, the dark was like death: cold, lifeless, and lonely. That was how Shan would describe how he felt right now. But he was not dead—not yet, at least. The dark surrounded him. Obscuring any source of light, warmth, or feeling in his body. He couldn’t even see his body. All he could feel were the small ripples in the Force. Like gentle waves washing over him. It was the only reason he knew he was alive. That he hadn’t died. Perfect. He wasn’t ready yet. He still had so much to do. All he had to do was wake. Wake up back on Woostri and…

That was when the waves washed over him. But it wasn’t the Force he was used to. It was foul. Repugnant. Putrid. His eyes fluttered open for a moment. Wait. He could see. It was still dark around him but the Mirialan could see himself. His hands. They were stained in blood. His own? The blood of the people he failed to save? Shan had no clue. But then he heard the voice. That voice.

Help me! Why weren't you here, Shan? Save me! Shan, Shan, Shan, Shan!

Screaming for him. Begging him for help. The image of his mother forming in the darkness. Tears streaking her face as she was dragged off. A reminder of how much he had failed her. How he was too busy being a Jedi to protect his own family. To protect his mother. He had tried to find her. For so long. But…he had given up. He had given up on his own mother. What kind of excuse for a son was he? The despair started to settle into his mind…Though the Mirialan himself wasn’t given time to settle as he fell through the darkness. Falling down through the void until he crashed into something solid.

He was back in his home. It was shelved. Wooden boards were strewn across the floor, glass bottles were broken and scattered across the entire living area. Shan knew what this was meant to be. Even by the time he felt the barrel pressed against the back of his head. This was his worst nightmares. One of them at least. Reliving them. Though with a little extra despair flair added to it all. He wasn’t even listening to his father as Shan stared into thin air. Re-experiencing the actual memory. The anger he felt when his father had pulled the blaster out on him. The rage he felt when his father blamed him for not being there. When his father didn’t even want him. The fury Shan had when he disarmed his father and had the blaster sighted on him. Pointed directly at the man who he had saw as his father for as long as he could remember. But then he snapped out of it. For one simple reason. One simple thing. His father hadn’t been mad for not saving her. No. Shan’s father had been mad that Shan had been alive in the first place. He had wanted to leave all traces of the family behind…

This wasn’t real. He should have realised that earlier. He was well trained in defending his mind…but it was difficult to do that when you were unconscious. But he was starting to realise it. This wasn’t his father. Shan closed his eyes for a moment. To steady himself. To calm himself. He had to remind himself that the man who he had called his father for most of his life wasn’t that. No. The best father figure Shan had in his life was Kahlil Noble . And Kahlil wouldn’t given up. He’d keep fighting. Keep protecting. All Shan had to do was WAKE UP. The Mirialan opened his eyes with a new fire burning behind them. And he let the nightmare play out as it normally would…but instead of fighting his father for the blaster, Shan closed his eyes and waited. Patiently. Before the sound of the blaster went off…

And then he awoke. To the sound of multiple blasters going off. To the pain that was still there in his bones. But the panic he had felt from failure was gone. Instead there was a calm sensation spreading throughout his mind. A familiar sensation, considering how much he had used Battle Meditation himself.

“Let me up. I can still move.”

Barely. But he didn’t say that part outloud. Instead the Mirialan stumbled to his feet, wincing in pain. There wasn’t time for him to use his healing crystal of fire. There was still too much going on. His eyes scanned along the streets. It was hard to see. Everything was sore. But he was alive. That was the most important thing as he clenched his fingers around his saber. He could do this.

"Protect the 44th as well as you can. I'll help keep them off you as much as I can."

Focus. Let the Force guide his hand. The Sith Troops were slowly getting disorganised from Connel’s actions. He had the strength needed to make the cracks needed in their armour. In their formation. Shan had the speed needed to exploit them. And so Shan rushed. Using the Force to enhance his speed. It hurt. His bones were screaming at him. His mind was throbbing. His ears ringing. Shan was also pretty sure that one of them was bleeding.

The Jedi Knight moved through the troops. As a distraction to give Omega Squad openings but also for him to find his own openings. Finding one who’s armour was cracked enough just for Shan. Applying a shiak thrust through the crack, breaking through the armour and piercing into the trooper. That was it. Shan had killed someone. But it didn’t feel anything like how he had expected. The Consular had expected something to break inside of him. For some kind of sorrow to wash over him. But it didn’t. The actual act of killing someone was incredibly simple.

With that being done, the Mirialan backed off to find some cover. To get some breathing room. He couldn’t rush as much as he wanted to with his injuries. Being a wall to defend people was out of the question right now as well. He just had to breathe and recover…