Invasion The Day of Revenge | BotM Invasion of GA held Empress Teta and Foerost | TETA PART ONE

[Tren Chaar]

B U L W A R K

FOEROST
B-WING HEAVY STARFIGHTER​

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Revenant Squadron Leader: CDR Tren Chaar Five: FLT Kaul "Joker" Emos Ten: FLT Qellene Tyliame Wolf Squadron Leader: MAJ Bané Zirbils Galactic Alliance ADM Zahara Myneto RADM Liedran Kathause GEN Dracken Pryce Tydeus of Tion Crimson Linings Squadron Wilhelm Vonreg Electra-12 Brotherhood of the Maw Marlon Sularen Akûz the Ravager Khione Nadja Keto Kenth Berik Aldo Garrick Wendell Mortimer Glolmark Spoiler: Summary -Revenant departs their hiding spot -Chaar engaged Electra-12

Chaar watched his scopes as the Brotherhood capital ships opened fire on the Alliance fleet with their superweapons. The Alliance commanders replied in turn, soaking up what they could and returning fire. Two massive new contacts appeared, heralding the arrival of the Super Star Defenders Morai and Alliance Ascendant, tipping the scales in the favour of the defenders. The advantage was short-lived, with a colossal fleet of Brotherhood marauders decanting from hyperspace.

And in the middle of it all, twelve starfighters concealed in a derelict hull floating above Foerost.

But as Revenant Squadron had demonstrated time and time again, a single squadron could make all the difference.

Qellene detected a group of enemy contacts, which the battle computer confirmed as belonging to their target - Crimson Linings Squadron. Much like Revenant, Crimson Linings were a force multiplier, a single unit that when employed correctly could shift the course of a battle. Taking them off the board would be a crushing blow to Brotherhood effectiveness and morale.

“Engage,” Chaar ordered as Crimson Linings entered the kill zone. The Umbaran released the magclamps holding his B-wing against the floating space junk and pushed power into his repulsorlifts, pushing the starfighter clear of its mooring. He quickly shifted power in his sublight drive and looped around toward the TIE Fighters. “Lock S-foils.” Two small wings, each tipped with an assortment of weapons, folded out from the B-wing’s blade-like frame.

Chaar set his four laser cannons to stutter fire and unleashed an opening volley of low-powered fire at the nearest TIE fighter, aiming to confuse and overwhelm while he still had the element of surprise. A contact on his tail forced him to pull out, cycling his weapons to increase power at the expense of the rate of fire. The space around Revenant erupted as the Alliance and Brotherhood pilots wove between the space junk, exchanging laser and missile fire.

Amid the chaos he spotted a distinction TIE, with wingtips that wrapped back around the cockpit rather than splaying out as on the TIE Hunters. A feral grin slowly formed. The Brotherhood usually reserved unique or custom starfighters for aces or commanders - finally, a worthy target. Chaar looped around behind the unusual TIE and painted it with his targeting computer, waiting for a missile lock.

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr | Mercy | Freedom
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent | Nite agent | Marauder and Agent of the Maw, Mongrel's advisor​

Objective: Investigate the facility, to help Mongrel and Kallan. Survive!
Location: Research facility, City, Empress Teta
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Assault Rifle | 2x Sunfury Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger | 2x Riftblades | Promise of Freedom || Cloaking Device | 5x ASBF Probe Droid || OPBC-01m
Special Tags: The Mongrel | Thomas Barran

[ New Order ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~ Telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>

Spoiler: tl;dr

• Keilara and Mercy are both happy and sad after the answers.
• Mercy is angry with the whole world, everyone, this anger gives her the strength to be able to fight the creature.

After his words, I smiled despite the crying, he could feel my relief, the joy besides the sorrow. It was a damn life and world. The only thing I wanted was to be with him. Never, nothing has succeeded in life. I have given up on my old dream, to be irreplaceable within the tribe, to be irreplaceable for him with my battlefield results. These didn't count anymore.

I just wanted to be with him…

~ Our secret bond, until the very end. ~ I replied to his words, then continued, I wanted him to know. ~ And beyond that. If I die first, I'll wait for you in paradise, until you join me, until we'll be together again… ~ I promised him.

I sobbed loudly in reality as I pulled back in our minds so as not to disturb him in the fight. He fought too, I had to do the same. I didn’t tell him I probably wouldn’t experience the end of the battle, but to know that he said yes filled me with joy and sorrow at the same time. Joy, because he said yes; the sorrow that his oath will probably only accompany me to the afterlife that he said yes because I will not survive the day, probably it will be too late for me for us to find an official on this or on a different world who will perform the ceremony for us.

I wanted to, yes, above all, to have at least that much joy in this damn life. I looked up at the creature angrily. I was angry at the Maw, the Heathen Priests, everything, everyone, as well as this huge brain. Even to myself because I fell in love with Mongrel and Kallan. And I hated Maw for doing this to him, and because we couldn’t have the life we wanted together. Because of the Maw's twisted and corrupt design!

I clenched my teeth, looking up at the creature with glowing eyes of hatred and anger…

If I have to, I will burn the whole galaxy to get the life we wanted…

A life together!

Meanwhile, while I was sure Mercy was trying to fight outside, I told Kallan my question. I didn’t know how he was going to react, and I was pretty embarrassed. Even though I was sad, his smile, his happiness was sticky. Moments later, I noticed that I was smiling at him too. I wanted to cry, but now not because I could lose him, but because of the happiness, because he said yes.

He was so much stronger than me, after what he went through, he was still able to smile like that. I loved it when he smiled. Although I was the warrior, the fighter, I still felt safe in his arms. A different kind of security than what Mongrel provided, it was more family-like.

~ I love you too, Kallan! ~ I smiled at him. ~ Kallan Kala'myr. I like… I am fond of this name. ~ I told him since he never mentioned his last name, I guess he might not even remember, another lost memory. ~ Lord Kallan Kala'myr, more precisely. ~ I smiled lovingly at him.

Yes, maybe it was a lot of suffering and it was all about us finding each other. After all, in our normal lives, it was impossible for this to ever happen. I was a noblewoman; he came from a working class. He was eighteen years older; he could have been my "father" in extreme conditions with this age difference. But because of the Maw? I couldn’t argue with his words, I just embraced him tighter as I kissed him. I looked at him sadly afterwards.

~ I want to be with you too, forever. Please pray and hope for Mercy should not die out there! She doesn't think we'll get out of that facility alive. ~ I told him the truth, I would have been unable to lie to him.

~ I hope I see you in the world beyond ~

He once told me that when everything turned serious at Odessen. Now that’s what I wanted us to be here, and in the afterlife together. But not today! Today is ours, here, together! I still had to go back to him today. After he said yes, I had to go back to him. I haven’t felt as much anger and hatred since my release. I had to realise that this was partly the fault of the creature, it magnified my feelings.

Thank you, you wretched creature! It wouldn't have been possible without you. I will go back to him, I will be his, forever!

I tried angrily to move, to stand up. In the rage, the grip of the iron grasp eased.

I was able to move again…

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

Objective 1/C
Location: Spaceport outside Cinnagar Royal Palace
Engaging: Voldran Molf
Allies: MAW & Allies
Enemies: GA & Allies

Equipment in bio.

THE INCANTATION
​

The city around them crumbled beneath the steps of giants, and the intense saber duel between the Sith Lord Ptolemis and the purple bladed warrior continued without respite.

As Ptolemis leaned out of the way of a dangerous twist of his opponent's purple saber, he thought to himself. There was something strange about the way this armored lady fought; ommitting the use of Force powers, she rather performed spectacular slides, flips, followed by lightning-fast stabs and punches. Several of her punches landed, as Ptolemis, it seemed, was disadvantaged in hand-to-hand combat compared to the armored warrior. It seemed she had the ability to listen to the Force. Her mere survival attested to that. This made her all the more irritating in the eyes of Ptolemis. And it seemed that she was beginning to expect the Sith Lord's approach to combat. The tiring-out approach did not work.

Even when Ptolemis produced quick, short jabs with his crimson saber, the lady hopped backward just in time to create an opening for herself. Like a beautiful dancer she spun around on the balls of her feet only to produce a particularly devastating punch with her hardened glove to the Sith Lord's face.

A crack whipped across his metallic mask, and the Sith stumbled to the side. And when next he looked back, she straight-up head-butted him. Even with darkened peripheries he luckily managed to parry her next swing, but now he was forced to slide back on the debris-filled hangar floor for a quick reset of his vision. Yet she persisted. Wrist met with wrist as attempts at body-throws continued, colored lightsaber blades slid along vectors the opposing beams dictated, elbows missed faces by inches, knee strikes were dampened by careful guarding maneuvers. The physical combat had to have tired both out, since the crashing waves of power the two Force users unleashed upon each other must have demanded the most out of the two.

Panting, the Sith Lord had enough, and with a powerful two-handed swing to this opponent's lightsaber he stalled the warrior only for a second; a second that was enough for him to telekinetically hurl five dead bodies at the warrior lady. A stream of dead weight raining down upon the unknown lady whizzed past the statuesque Sith Lord. The hateful glow of the Sith Lord's eyes began to filter through the cracks of his damaged mask, and as he lowered his extended arm following the barrage, he finally spoke again – regardless of the barrage's success – knowing full well that he could only lose an extended saber fight against an opponent that appeared to fight as a Jedi Sentinel and as a highly-trained commando at the same time. It was time to lean more onto the verbal side of the Dun Möch technique.

– I'm giving you a choice. – He twirled his crimson lightsaber in one hand, signaling his readiness for another round of fighting. – Leave now with your life and I get to destroy all the other spaceports around the Citadel… Or die and I corrupt your body in the deepest pits of the Maw.​

​

​

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: within the Palace
Objective: 1
Allies: BOTM Rannan Kol Joseph Torson
Enemies: Seto du Couteau
Engaging: Rika Hiro


Kyrel just waited as the young Atrisian took out her rage. This was to be expected, as long ago the monstrosity was just as evil on her homeworld. He couldn’t even register the pain to his undead form as the bashing continued. Bits and pieces of his undead flesh fell to the floor as he waited for the Atrisian to tire out, always wanting to toy with his prey before the kill. He even considered this as giving her a free shot, as he preferred his prey to have a little fight in them.

Black liquid spewed from his mouth, as he took the beating like a champ, slinking lower with each heavy strike, if only to give her the idea that she was going to kill him, the painful grunts didn’t stop though, as she tried to bash in his skull, even more pieces of flesh started to fall, the Necrochasis only able to hold up against the brunt of such brutal attacks. He could tell from the tone of her words, she must have been waiting for this a long time, and still she persisted with more heavy strikes.

He couldn’t recall the amount of times his victims had similar grievances. All his life he knew nothing but rage and destruction, and now here he was on hands and knees getting beat down. It was only when she stopped speaking, and she reached to strike as if to kill him did he act. No words came from the undead nightmare as he sent the Atrisian flying down a corridor with a kick. Pieces of the palace didn’t stop from falling down, all the while he didn’t seem to care about his surroundings nor the gash in his head.

Heavy steps were the sign of even more brutality, seeing his dazed Atrisian attacker before him. He finally spoke his words showing his annoyance as he slammed a piece of his dripping flesh back onto his head. “Are you quite finished? I’ll admit I love your spirit… Like the rest of your people, I’m going to make you suffer….” The hulking behemoth proceeded to wrap his cold fingers around her neck. Lifting her slowly, letting the void of his eyes stare deep he slammed her into wall.

 

[Dagon Kaze]

THE DAY OF REVENGE
THE GREAT ERROR vol. III
Issue #4 w/ Jem Fossk & Corin Trenor

"Help--??--"

"--wha--??" the bewilderment on his face lit up by the continuous barrage of Jem's slashes. Dagon could not understand, and neither could he allow himself the reprieve to try and figure out her words riddled with much more questions than they were with answers. Not when he was busy fending off the tempest born of her rage at him.

He wasn't any weaker than yesterday but she was far stronger -- beyond recognition.

The sudden lapse of focus cost him the air in his lungs as her kick landed with a heavy thud in his gut. He stumbled a few feet back, his blade instinctively en garde for her follow-up.

But it never came.

Her hand seized the empty air and the dark side heeded her call. It wrapped its tendrils around Corin's throat like a serpent, the muffled chokes barely escaping his lips. Dagon's nose wrinkled, nostrils flared open as he snarled, "I said -- with me!" the air cracked beneath the palm of his hand before darted open in Jem's direction sending a push through the Force to interrupt her attack.
​

 

[Jem Fossk]

Spoiler: The Story

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
Jem Fossk
Cinnagar, Empress Teta

​

"Beautiful." The Dark Voice bellowed.

Powerful gusts tugged at his robes violently, the air was thin, the view however.. spectacular.

Vroom!

A single hypersonic roar flooded his senses, a single Eradicator class starfighter screamed by. The single vanguard of an encroaching storm not long behind. Mawite fighter craft and dropships carrying the zealous holy crusaders and fierce tribal marauders peeked through the clouds. Streaks of exhaust spat out in their wake as the sky thundered with their approach. It would not be long before green and red bolts of luminous laser fire would flicker back between earth and heavens above.

Glorious.

The Dark Lord stepped forward, leaning closer towards the 'edge' of his vantage point. Soon the vast cityscape of Cinnagar was in plain view. He could see the palace, the Great Library, and soon…

Rumble! Shake! Thunder!

"Ah, there it is."

The city quaked, there was a symphonic shockwave that melodied from the heart of the old capital. It percussioned a cloud made of duracrete and glasteel, crescendoing to the rise of the Iron Citadel. Soprano cries of terror, baratone wallows, and harmonic crashes filled the chorus of the Krath.

With the power of Sith Sorcery, their return was boldly broadcasted to the pretenders occupying the Tetan throne. They bore with them a gift, a secret long buried that ignited with eerie luminance filling the ancient ruin with a sickly emerald glow. The hypergate had opened.

"The time has come, daughter."

The beast roared beneath them.

​

Be a pool of water.

Like a lake...

cool... unmovable... without ripples...​

Jem forced herself to envision it. The jedi meditation practice had once been a security blanket. Now its ragged form kept slipping through her fingers. Calm was not something Jem typically embodied but she stood at her father's side and force herself to remain still.

It was becoming harder every day to manage it.

Her father's corrupting measures seared through her veins and she suffered for it. Every moment was a battle inside her own mind. Every breath was effort-- a cognitive task of control.

She ignored her father. She ignored the city, she ignored the pending war. She was running out of ti--

A familiar presence cut through it all. Her attention jolted outwards, a pained gasp escaping through her lips. It only took a moment for her to make sense of the presence.

Not even the darkside could make her forget her master.


Her own presence was weak, barely identifiable amongst the corruption that threatened to swallow Jem whole. A warning image jolted through the tentative bond they still shared, powerful as it tried to drive itself like spikes into Dagon's mind.

Her father was coming. He was more powerful than ever before.




Jem winced and released the reigns from her grasp. The metal had warped under her fingers. "Yes father."

She let herself free fall to the ground, disembarking to... she no longer knew. She no longer asked questions. Her strength was conserved for one thing.

I am a lake.
​

Dagon Kaze Darth Solipsis Ryv Corin Trenor

THE DAY OF REVENGE
THE GREAT ERROR vol. III
Issue #4 w/ Jem Fossk & Corin Trenor
Ryv Darth Solipsis

The Sith are a superstitious cowardly lot.

From day one it has been so. The resurgence of the New Sith over the corpse of the old and decrepit on Thule. A pattern Solipsis had followed religiously throughout his crusade to warp and change reality itself. Logistical lines, strategic locations, all rational military targets had been delegated to the 'simpler' minds of the Final Dawn. Instead, he'd waged war against the hearts and minds of the galaxy, against the sole existence of the Jedi.

From torching to ash the Enclave at Jakku and the pilgrimage of Jedha to the massacres in the Sith Worlds and all the way to the heart of the Jedi, the home of galactic civilization - Coruscant. None could forget the Sacking of Coruscant that had driven the New Jedi to the edge of extinction.

This was no war of occupation, no war of tangible strategic value or anything of the sorts.

No, this has been an existential war. A war of life itself against the forces of entropy, of death.

A war to forever change the hierarchy of power and the natural order of the universe.

Forever.

The coronation on Teta - home of the legendary Krath, a dynasty known for its historical roots with the Sith. Where and when else could he have attacked? To make a point. To demonstrate true power. Symbols and superstition.

And yet, as predictable as Solipsis may have grown to be in the eyes of the Jedi, the question that truly held importance was neither where or when but could he be stopped?

Once more, they came in droves. Springing from the depths of an ancient, long-forgotten hypergate and cutting through the skies; a dark curtain enveloping the light and casting an impregnable shadow over the world.

The heavens hung in black.

In that unending sea of darkness converging in the skies, a behemoth of Sith Magic stood out. A creature born solely for the purpose to destroy and annihilate and atop it he could sense it. Not the twisted nature of the beast and neither the malicious maw of death that its master was. No. Her presence may have been like the sound of a nail falling into hay but to him... it was all he could hear.

"Jem..." he heard himself mutter, eyes narrowed unto the behemoth from his vantage point atop one of Cinnagar's many high rises cutting the clouds. A warning shuddered the rusty bond between master and apprentice, wedging itself into his lobe. Strong enough to force an involuntary step back.

It bore no threat, conveyed more like a friend's caution.

A moment later it abated, replaced by the malice of corruption which enveloped the sender and the weight of guilt upon the recipient.

It was time to move.

To act.

As always.

He caught her lithe form freefalling from the skies, an enviable feat she hadn't truly mastered before. Even this distant from her, Dagon could feel the power her father had provided her with. The shortcut. The easy way. A clear sign of his own failings as a mentor. It dug deep into his heart.

"Corin, we move to intercept her." Dagon said, unnatural gloom besetting the usual easy-going bravado he was known for. Solipsis would never send her away on a menial task. No, she was his key. The single soul in the whole wide galaxy he would trust.

The heiress of Apocalypse.

"Time for you to meet my... former apprentice."​

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
Jem Fossk | Dagon Kaze | Corin Trenor | Ryv
Cinnagar, Empress Teta

WRATH

​

The beast's roar rippled through the skies of Cinnagar like a hurricane wind. Smoke and fire spilled out as far as the eye could see as the battle for the soul of the planet began in earnest. A quick glance to his daughter saw her off as she made her way towards the edge of the floating behemoth. Without a hint of fear or doubt, the apprentice gracefully stepped off.

The Dark Lord of the Sith pressed his right foot forward and dug in, eyes like daggers following the trajectory of his kin. He hissed, extending his right hand forward, palm opening in gesture as the psychic connection between man and beast intensified. The Summa Verminoth groaned and dipped, diving towards the cityscape with it's tendrils extended out.

​

A typhoon tugged at his robes relentlessly, fierce winds powerful enough to uproot him threatened to remove the Dark Voice from his fortified stance. He would not budge, the gusts were like waves breaking against the unmoving rock. Twin orbs of sulfuric hate glared down as the beast savagely slammed into a nearby tower, cleaving through an entire story.

Vroom!

Wherever the massive beast loomed, dust and debris followed in it's savage wake. Buildings partially collapsed if not outright crumbled under the weight of the apex predator. As the monstrosity circled, the Dark Voice lifted himself and cast off. Touching the empyrean, he gathered the Force and leapt from the dome of the Summa Verminoth, descending in a slow controlled fall.

He came down, eyes casting a terrible glare down towards the landing site of his kin. The Sith'ari's black robes enveloped around him, an umbral shroud that defied physics floating down. The Dark Voice lowered, drifting into a dust cloud kicked up by the rampant destruction around them. Smoke and ash filled the air, his form vanished completely, lost in the chaos.

"You may think this is suffering. No."

"It is salvation."

The Dark Lord emerged from the fog of war, the smoke and dust rolling off his midnight cloak as the winds pressed against him. He advanced, eyes honed and ready.

"Dread it all you like. Run from it if you have to. The facts remain the same… huh.."

His gaze twisted away, immediately drawn to the final obstacle in his daughter's training and full conversion as a Sith.

"Time to let old things die. You know what you must do, do not hesitate."

THE DAY OF REVENGE
IDENTITY CRISIS vol. III
Issue #1 w/ Dagon Kaze Jem Fossk Darth Solipsis Ryv

​

His new Master had felt distant at times, as if an extended arm refused to allow them to become as close as some other students he had been. It wasn't as if Corin had not been all too aware of the Padawan that came before him, but he failed to realise that it was fear; fear of failure had seen the two remain focused on the business-end of their connection, to find interests outside the Jedi Order and their mission... that fear of loss. It never seemed to settle in Corin and at the mere mention of Jem, had Corin frowned. Not for his Master, but for himself - his mind lost all focus, all that he needed was lost as he turned into the second born to the favoured star.

He had too much to lose.

She could succeed into her father's embrace, or fail into her Master's.

Corin shut himself off from the chaos, and a breath followed in an effort to find some composure. To no avail.

The Padawan nodded towards Kaze as the world crumbled around them. He had no words for all of this, and followed his Master as the two traversed the ruins of Teta, of the same ones that continued to increase in destruction as each second came and went.

Some small amount of calm had found itself returned to Corin, but that sliver was tested once the distant two came into view and both Dagon and Corin came closer and closer. He was better than her, he assured himself, he was not so weak as to crumble onto a traitor's road and abandon all that he knew.

Jem fell without feeling. Lakes didn't enjoy the thrill of free falling through air. Lakes didn't care that buildings were exploding and lives were ending around it. Lakes moved for no one. Well...

Except pebbles. And wind. And feet-- and...


She followed his gaze, her gray skin loosing luster as she caught what held his attention. "I'm not running," she asserted quickly, trying to bring his attention back to her.

"I accept this-- I'll not--"



Her stomach fell out from under her. She was forced to meet her father's gaze, his very presence demanding her acknowledgment. She wanted to melt into a puddle. Those seemed less noticeable.

"Yes... father..." Stupid, stupid Dagon.

Her feet felt like foreign objects. They obeyed her father and moved her towards the one thing she did not want to face. She couldn't stop them, but she could control the speed. She moved with slow precision onto the roof ledge... she... braced... and arched gracefully through the air, from one roof top to the next. He had taught her that. Dagon. The idiot with a death wish. Every step towards him felt like shifting through cement, the bags under her eyes growing deeper as she hoped without hope that her father would look away.

She brace... and jumped again... the skies above crackling with streaks of red. She saw a tuff of black hair and stopped on that roof ledge.


"I gave you a chance to leave," she hissed, her voice reaching the figure masked by the shadows. Up close she was unrecognizable. Her once hearty, gold-tone complexion was now colorless and hallow. She had not slept nor eaten in days, sustained by the corruption that consumed her, and it showed. She was lifeless and frail, but she rippled with unmistakable power.

"You should have taken it. Master."

Dagon Kaze Corin Trenor Darth Solipsis

There was a time before the bliss.

Those times and places were distant things, left to fade away into obscure stories told by hardened veterans and displaced refugees. Some found hope in those tales, while others looked upon them with abject hatred. When foreign and abstract ideals drove a boy to become something more. A monster who militarized an Order of masterless children and turned them into killing machines not seen since the times of Revan or Lord Hoth. Or maybe a hero, a symbol of unshaken hope that stood unbowed against the flowing tide of darkness.

A time better left in the past. Before the arrival of a loving family and nights spent in peace, where the greatest of toils were beer poured and food served.

Memories of pain, interwoven through the years by a sense of purpose.

Ryv sighed.

He looked up past the city limits, his gaze locked on the distant horizon. War came for him again. It appeared in the form of someone in need, as it always had. War promised him an end. A bloody one. Trapped, alone, away from his family in his final moments.

The tension in his chest, the storm of chaos that buzzed about the air like a swarm of starved locusts. He knew this place better than any other in the galaxy—a battlefield. Where the brave marched off to their death, and the foolish went to live.

There was a time when the kiffar longed for this feeling.

Now, Ryv yearned for the cozy armchair in his bedroom, where he would read to his children or tell them stories of his legendary exploits. It was a safe place. The memories dulled with the passage of years. War could not reach them there on Denon, not in the heart of his home. His territory.

But here on Empress Teta, within the city of Cinnagar, it had found him. War crawled closer, driven forth by the machinations of a mad man changed by alien designs the sane could not begin to fathom. A demented beast thundered towards the city. It hungered for innocent blood, to feast upon the dying breath of hope as pawns of light and shadow fell beneath its bulk.

In another time, on another world, the battle to determine the galaxy's fate would be fought.

Ryv paced across the flat top of a towering starscraper. He stepped up onto the ledge meant to separate him from a fatal plunge, his eyes never leaving the monstrous behemoth as it lumbered closer to its death.

"Fossk," Ryv uttered the name in a whisper, infused with subtle power. The words found the great empyrean like a smooth stone skipped across a calm lake. Power rolled through the ethereal, cutting through the ghostly echoes of battle between the Sword of the Jedi and the dreaded Sith'ari. "Surely you've waited long enough for this confrontation."

Darth Solipsis ​

THE DAY OF REVENGE
THE GREAT ERROR vol. III
Issue #4 w/ Jem Fossk & Corin Trenor
Ryv Darth Solipsis

The sky above crackled with fury and laid its vengeance upon the world. Threads of life cut short by the pestilent hand of the Sith quivered as ripples throughout the ethereal. The air reeked of plasma and burnt flesh, filling his nostrils with that all too familiar stench of war. It dug into the very skin you wear and no moments of peace nor joy could ever wash it away.

Dagon wrinkled his nose. The New Jedi Order, baptized in the flames of the Stygian War, learned that reprieve was a luxury they could neither have nor could they afford.

Reprieve had filled the gutters of the galaxy with the blood of its sons and daughters. It's the only lesson the New Jedi ever learned from their absent masters.

The Jedi duo's traverse came to an abrupt end, cut off by the appearance of a hollow shadow standing in their way. A grey shadow of a once colorful past and fateful future. Grey like the skin of a dying man, dry as a funeral drum. And that drum banged loud, beating into a crescendo of grief and regret.



"You know I like beating my head against the wall." he dryly responded, the hilt of his saber materializing in his hand. It had come to this, hasn't it? The pinnacle of his failures and mistakes shaped the monster that stood before him. That had taken his apprentice away from him. But the corruption -- as tight as a tourniquet around her -- could be broken. Blood does not dictate fate, only what we do defines us.

He'd prove it to her.

Or die trying.

The Knight's eyes narrowed sideways at Corin, a plan of action on his tongue but never uttered. How could he? After all, the infallible chemistry he'd built was with the one standing against them, "I'll go low, you go high." he whispered. A simple stratagem indicating the fledgling progress they had made. Then hoarsely reminded, "No killing."

The proverbial bell rang with the snap-hiss of his blade and the Force surged through his feet sending him darting at her. His body folded into a crouch as the cerulean saber sought to make contact with her legs.
​

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
Jem Fossk | Dagon Kaze | Corin Trenor | Ryv
Cinnagar, Empress Teta

W R A T H

​

His daughter had accepted the dreaded task given to her and asserted herself ready. She was not, no one could ever truly ready themselves to make 'the Sacrifice'. It was spiritual collapse, a rebirth of identity as the last vestige of compassion was killed off along with those dearest to you. To complete her transition into a Sith, she had to cut the last link holding her to her former life as a Jedi.

She had to kill Dagon Kaze .

The Dark Lord had intended to follow and see the job done before his very eyes, to watch the life leave the Jedi as he fell at the hands of his very own apprentice. The one he fought so passionately to save, to redeem and bring home. He never understood the truth, she was home, where Jem belonged. Her destiny was intertwined with that of her Father's, she was the heir to his legacy and the key to the future he designed.

Alas, his attention drifted elsewhere. Caught unawares as the silent speech of the Sword saturated his thoughts from the empyrean wind. His eyes widened, orbs of incalculable wrath glistening in the shadow of Cinnagar.

"…The Sword of the Jedi."

The Sith'ari cooed.

"You should of remained in exile."

The Dark Lord of the Sith stretched forth, hand reaching out across the expanse, his mind probing the depths of battlefield. He uttered a savage hiss before muttering in the 'Old Tongue' an unrecognizable command.

The earth shook, the skies thundered, and throughout the city streets a monstrosity glided overhead. The Summa-Verminoth groaned violently as it made haste in the direction of the valiant Sword. Earth and Heaven moved before the apex predator as it turned towers into turmoil.

The Beast lumbered on, carried by it's master's command to seek fresh meat.

THE DAY OF REVENGE
IDENTITY CRISIS vol. III
Issue #2 w/ Dagon Kaze Jem Fossk Darth Solipsis Ryv

​

He stood there, so disconnected from the core of the situation as the former master and student made their remarks to one another. He was the extra, the added addition, the one that came after, the one to find himself cast aside should Jem be returned to his side. His features scrunched and narrowed, from the creases on his forehead to the clench of his teeth. Corin was tense, and it remained so difficult to discern whether it was the nerves of a true test of skill or the fire that storm that near-thundered beneath the surface.

Corin returned a similar narrowed look back towards his Master, he readied himself to follow one command and still remained so unsure of the other. Had their success as two ensured his own loss as one? He wished he had all the chance to dimiss all the intrusive ideas that flashed before him, but there was no time but the here and now.

His weakened resolve had turned him into a moldable mass of flesh and bone.

In a silent rush of his own, Trenor mimicked Kaze as the blue blade hissed into existence. Beside the other Jedi, Corin bounced into the air and made the motion of an overhead attack, as if in effort to rid the fresh Sith of her arm.

He had finally hardened his heart to her. No more begging. No words. He had finally accepted the inevitable. She should be relieved, but his resignation burned like salt on a wound.

There really was no going back now. Her face hardened as he descended, her own saber jumping to her hand in turn.

She caught both the blades with a powerful upward strike-- forcing Dagon's up and entangling them both with the third before it could reach her shoulder.

"You're really going to make us do this?" She accused. "All the energy I've put into keeping you alive, and you're going to make me kill you." They remained locked for a moment in a power struggle, the tip of her dead jedi saber pointed at the ground. Darkness flexed through her muscles and she did not budge, her control over it balancing on a pin point.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" Her pain was palpable. She wanted nothing more than to pretend she had never sat on that corrupting throne, but her father pushed her further every day and her master...

Her attention fixated on the jedi fighting besides him. She had dismissed Corin Trenor and his tangle of black hair as a cousin or even brother of Dagon's, but it struck her then that didn't make sense. The jedi-- the boy-- was her own age. She was Dagon's only connection.

Her resistance slackened with shock.

"Who is this?"

Dagon Kaze Corin Trenor Darth Solipsis

THE DAY OF REVENGE
THE GREAT ERROR vol. III
Issue #4 w/ Jem Fossk & Corin Trenor

"You can try." he retorted as the two Jedi's blades locked a cross with Jem's parry. "If you can't step back into the Light -- I'll drag you back." he could feel his flesh squeeze his hilt tighter and tighter against Jem's newfound strength.



An eyebrow slightly arched up, "Wh--"



That was for Corin to respond. Feeling the resistance of her parry begin to falter, Dagon stepped back and to the side seeking to flank her followed by a horizontal slash of his blade across her arm. Had Jem been the one on his side, he'd known she would've followed to flank their enemy on the opposite side. Just like they had trained. Just like in the good old days.

Oh, this divine irony of it all.
​

THE DAY OF REVENGE
IDENTITY CRISIS vol. III
Issue #3 w/ Dagon Kaze & Jem Fossk

​

He was no Jem.

Far from it.

But now, of all times, he resembled her current state most of all. Even as the Master of the three shifted out, a clear chance for himself to do the same, Corin elected to remain and in an effort to hold her there, to be better than her. It was all he wished for now, he was unable to ever confess otherwise, least of all as he leaned further into his own blue-bladed saber and his features contorted in order to be more tense than ever before.

"I'm Corin," he mustered between all the exertion, "Your replacement."

Jem flinched in understanding.

Pain came at her every which way. Grief ripped away her sense of self and replaced everything with searing anger. That was what her father had wanted her to experience, and he had won. That fact haunted her as she stared at the source of her undoing. He struggled against her blade, weak an unable to overcome her in a simple stand still. And yet ... he was her now. He why Dagon hadn't even bothered to try this time.

Something in her cracked.

Her lips coiled with malice. "You will never replace me."

She stepped to the side the exact moment Dagon's blade descended into her arm, releasing all of Corin's kinetic energy into its path. Her own skin burned and bubbled by the closeness, but it wasn't her that would feel its true impact.

"His apprentice would know that was coming."

She kicked at him, holding Dagon's gaze.

Dagon Kaze Corin Trenor Darth Solipsis

THE DAY OF REVENGE
THE GREAT ERROR vol. III
Issue #4 w/ Jem Fossk & Corin Trenor

His eyes widened, stupified by the remark. Jem's rebuke hit back like lightening and the black haired padawan tumbled into the Knight. Dagon hastily deactivated his blade to prevent a costly accident of impaling Corin and stepped to the side, then caught the padawan by the collar of his jacket to prevent him from losing his footing further.

"Really had to say that, huh." he quietly murmured to the new apprentice, then reactivated his saber once more.

The Knight brought his feet at hip-width, shifting from his easily recognizeable Ataru form to that of the defensive Soresu. A form he'd relied on much during his early days as a padawan before embracing his innate talents with Ataru.

This was no longer the Jem he knew, at least for the most part.

He needed time. Observe her moves, witness her newfound strengths and newborn weaknesses. Assemble every piece, every cog of the machine Solipsis had created.

Then take it all apart.​

"You never trusted me."

Her whole body quivered with emotion. Up until this point she hadn't actually raised a hand against them but she struggled to remember why that was. She was no longer a lake, she was a raging storm threatening to explode. What that the darkside or what that her pain? It was impossible to fuss out and she wasn't trying to. The betrayal took her breath away.

It took everything away.

Jem fell into a pool of darkness. In its cool embrace nothing mattered, not even her own agony as the light inside of her snuffed out. "No," she decreed, taking a step towards them. Darkness billowed off of her, bending the force around her and dragging it in. Like a black hole.

"You're not allowed him. You don't deserve him." She crept towards them, her path unclear as she forced her way deeper onto the roof. "You will never have a padawan again."

She charged, not on him but on the boy that had taken her place. An abrupt overhead leap would put Corin between them-- affording him no easy protection from Dagon as she slashed for his neck.

An attempted kill shot.


Dagon Kaze Corin Trenor Darth Solipsis

THE DAY OF REVENGE
IDENTITY CRISIS vol. III
Issue #4 w/ Dagon Kaze & Jem Fossk

​

The Jedi Padawan -- the second student that seemed to be on a route to suffer a similar fate as the first -- had felt the onset of a fall. His stomach swirled, the sudden butterflies had risen into his chest and then his throat as those once determined features shifted into that of shock. In awe, Corin stared into the abyss beneath him whilst time slowed, the same stared lasted mere moments before it shifted towards the behemoth of a beast screeched. Had this been it, he had no time nor chance to entertain the idea, his arms flailed as if in a bid to see himself fly. It was as if he wished for one final look before he fell, Corin twirled on his toes to see no more than the hand of Dagon reach out and snatch his collar.

No time for so much as a look of relief, Corin was raised onto his own two feet and stumbled forwards into a roll once the Jedi pulled him forwards.

His brow furrowed at her words, overhead as he scrambled onto his feet and a sense of dread entered him. Corin had seen no more than her swift descent on him, the blue blade rose in a flash in an effort to meet her own as his stance was far from firm; the force of her fall had been all that she needed to knock him from his stance, even as the blades clashed and fizzled, and Corin fell onto his back. He made an effort to tuck and roll backwards, and his feet extended outwards as if to use that momentum and kick the Sith off of him as he further rolled back onto his feet.

He had no words, only laboured breaths.

THE DAY OF REVENGE
THE GREAT ERROR vol. III
Issue #4 w/ Jem Fossk & Corin Trenor

"You never trusted me."

"Repeating it isn't gonna make it true, Jem." he retorted, eyes narrowed at her. Was he lying to himself, though? Indulging in comforting fiction was a pitfall even Jedi were not immune from. Surely, the Knight had been cautious with her, too cautious even to the point it seemed as if he was reluctant to grant her more responsibility, give her that so much needed space to spread her wings.

And as surely it was construed as mistrust.

But that guilt could not weigh him down. Not now, at least.

The Jedi needed all his bearings together for this fight.

Her threats stung like a scorpion's poison to erode his resolve but he persevered.

Or rather - had to.

Jem leaped over him and unto Corin, effectively pinning the teenager between a rock and a hard place.

Forcing him to become a meat shield in Dagon's service.

Abrasive.

How far had her father's corruptive claws dug in?

She was no frothing at the mouth monster, removed of all thoughts like a mindless thrall.

No, each move, each word was surgical. Much like her father's natural killer instinct.

And much like her father and every Sith in history -- it all boiled down to superstition. To symbols. To the irrational.

The unnatural.

But it's one thing identifying the problem, and a whole other thing solving it.

With a short leap of his own, he covered the ground into an intimate distance with his former padawan putting himself between Corin and her. His slash was direct, easily expected and heavy. More of a taunt than anything else. She still held the initiative, he wanted her to. Only way to piece her out was to take the brunt of the assault.

"Your fight is with me!" he growled. "Leave him out of it." he added in an attempt to provoke her.

​

"I had no fight!" She screeched, shrill and crazed by the insanity of it all. "All this time I've been trying to help you, but you think I chose this. You think I wanted this." She descended on him with viscous slashes full of power and brute force.

She use to be a precise fighter, more skill than power. That had changed. She beat him back with pure strength alone, descending on him with single minded focus that aimed to cut him down quickly so she could move onto the next threat. Her father's lesson had instilled that in her. It had been that or die.

She kicked at his gut, using every opening she had to wail on him.

"You wrote me off. The first doubt you got--" She shook her head, her pain swelling forward and overwhelming her with the darkside. When she opened her eyes they were cold and unfeeling. Yellow had bleed into the whites, it was the only color on her ashen complexion. She snarled at him and raised a hand.

"You can't have him." The force wrapped like a vice around Corin's throat and lifted him, cutting off any air.

Corin Trenor Dagon Kaze Darth Solipsis

THE DAY OF REVENGE
THE GREAT ERROR vol. III
Issue #4 w/ Jem Fossk & Corin Trenor

"Help--??--"

"--wha--??" the bewilderment on his face lit up by the continuous barrage of Jem's slashes. Dagon could not understand, and neither could he allow himself the reprieve to try and figure out her words riddled with much more questions than they were with answers. Not when he was busy fending off the tempest born of her rage at him.

He wasn't any weaker than yesterday but she was far stronger -- beyond recognition.

The sudden lapse of focus cost him the air in his lungs as her kick landed with a heavy thud in his gut. He stumbled a few feet back, his blade instinctively en garde for her follow-up.

But it never came.

Her hand seized the empty air and the dark side heeded her call. It wrapped its tendrils around Corin's throat like a serpent, the muffled chokes barely escaping his lips. Dagon's nose wrinkled, nostrils flared open as he snarled, "I said -- with me!" the air cracked beneath the palm of his hand before darted open in Jem's direction sending a push through the Force to interrupt her attack.
​

Jem went flying and cracked into the roof's stairwell. Both apprentices dropped to the ground in sync, her body throbbing at the impact.

She groaned and wiped a trail of blood out of her eyes. The world burned around them. The beast she had flew on groaned, it's death throes rocking the building on its foundations. It wasn't safe up here. It wasn't safe anywhere but she didn't care. Nothing in this whole world could pull her attention off the roof top.

She glared at Dagon and lifted herself back up off the ground.

"You are suppose to care about me." Dark energy crackled through the air, building with each word she gritted through her teeth. "You're suppose. To protect. ME." Lightening shot out from her blood stained finger tips and raced straight for Dagon.

Dagon Kaze Corin Trenor

 

[Shai Maji]

CINNEGAR | RESIDENTIAL DISTRICT
BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | SCARHOUNDS
ALLIES: MAW | OPEN
ENEMIES: GALLACTIC ALLIANCE | OPEN
ENGAGING: Kahlil Noble | Valery Noble
GEAR: In bio | Standard loadout | shield

KUKUSHKA​

Her flames had little effect, but at least the harpy was out of the way for now. All she needed to do was deal with the Zambrano. She was going to back down, not to the likes of them. Too much was at stake. Too much lost to forcies like them. Kahlil came through the flames and clashed with her blade, though Shai's vambrace came to life again, this time with a spray of carbonite at point blank as he raised his hand. She had a sneaky idea of what he wanted to do. The Force wouldn't save them, she would make sure of that.

Following up with a repulsor blast, Shai jumped back just in time for a familiar whine to split the air above them. "No..." Her voice was faint as her eyes went wide. She glimpsed at the Jedi, then at the hole in the apartment she got out of. The people possibly still in there, or in the area. The kid...

"SHIT!"

The Maw's ships flew overhead, dozens of bombs left behind to carpet pretty much the entire block, if not more. The Wardog barely had time to look up when the bombs impacted around the three of them, sending hellfire and debris out in all directions. In the enclosed area, the flames condensed and eventually erupted into an enormous firestorm, flattening whatever remained upright and alive after the bombs made contact with the ground.

Things went blank for the Wardog, cybernetic eyes throwing up static as she felt herself impact something hard... several times. Her helmet worked overtime to muffle the deafening explosions around them, and even with her armour's internal rebreather, she could feel the air tug out of her lungs for a moment. Only when the world stopped spinning in her mind, did she manage to turn her head and look around to get her bearings. She was almost entirely buried under rubble from a nearby building, though her mind was in far more turmoil as several memories flooded back in.

Mandalore...

No, not Mandalore... Nirauan?

"Al...?" She whimpered, throwing rubble off her body as she scrambled to her feet. It was only then that she realized her left arm stayed behind on the ground. Sparks from her shoulder drew her attention as a frown settled in. "Sound off!" She barked, expecting to hear the voices of her soldiers, her vode, to call back at her.

"This ain't Nirauan, girl..."

She blinked a few times and smacked the side of her head until her eyes stopped messing around. She couldn't breathe. As quickly as she could, she yanked off her helmet and gasped a deep breath as she looked around. "The Jedi..." As quickly as she could, she snapped her arm to her jetpack and proceeded outside to go look for them. "The kriff... they bombed me..." She growled, looking around.

"You gonna cry about it or keep fighting?"

"You better hope I don't figure out how to strangle you in real time." She continued to stumble out, holding her helmet in her only good hand.

"Oh, boohoo, poor little wardog can't take a hit."

"SHUT THE KRIFF UP!" She barked, glaring around for her sword and the Jedi...

She didn't pay attention to herself at all as she stumbled around in search for them. She finally managed to find her sword, picking it up after clipping her helmet to her belt. Her armour was battered, synth-skin hanging from her legs and remaining arm while several wounds littered her remaining organic parts. She looked like a zombie wading through the remains of the residential area, occasionally glancing in directions where piercing screams and cries for help echoed out.

The Jedi couldn't be far. They had to be around the area. "'Tis but a scratch." She grumbled, a faint chuckle rumbling from her throat. Of all the thoughts that could jump in her head, it had to be that one...

 

[Westenra Mina]

With Percival Io destroying the body of The Manifold , one would think the job would get easier.

But apparently The Manifold had put a ton of points into his skill in Conjuration. I'm not sure if he was a pure mage build, or if he had points in one handed, but whatever it was, he had cooked Percival good and hard in the process. But it was a testament to how well designed he was that he wasn't dead.

His warning came just in time also. Lynda snarled, leaping over the blade, making it all the more essential to reach the Hypergate to inflict damage with her alchemy-damaging sword, for if anything at all could damage the material a Hypergate was made of, it was the Five Rings.

Lynda sliced up both the living and the dead now, as they came at her from all angles. Like with AM, if you could inscribe the word 'HATE' on every nanoangstrom of every cell in Lynda's body, it would not equal one one billionth of the hatred she felt towards the Maw. (And I must scream: 90 XP)

A screaming berserker at this point, Lynda slashed at endless warriors who slashed and stabbed her from all sides, flipping over opponents, whipping her blade through crowds of the dead and living...

...yet in the moment of unfettered butchery...reason took hold...if only slightly.

Lynda remembered that Percival and Prescott were, for all intents and purposes, her nephews. Their design was derived from studying hers. And Vera's, to an extent, but mainly hers.

She loved her pets...but even the most distant family relation has more value than a simple pet.

She was still Death Star firing at Alderaan levels of pissed over her pets though.

Lynda, a badly mutilated, impaled thing started getting covering fire from Boris and Bram, the Deadly Model 3 Nuetralizers who had been doggedly slaughtering enemy personnel. It allowed her to cut apart a crowd of the undead who had been about to swarm her relatives, giving more breathing room for them.

"The Hypergate!" she called out, slicing up more undead even as a hatchet got buried in her stomach, Obsidian skull showing on parts of her face, voice metallic in quality from the severe damage she had sustained slaughtering endlessly. "We have to destroy it! It's our best chance! We cannot retreat!"

A zombie tried to pounce only for her to jump and power kick the living corpse into a crowd.

"I need one of you with me!" she called out to her nephews, starting to only now feel the strain of endless fighting, how greatly taxed her healing abilities were...

 

[Spindle]

TAG: Lord Letifer | Creuat | Xashe Tistya

Spindle was a flash of color beside the dark shrouds of her master. The eerie green glow of the passage before them cast a sickly light against the pale specter, though it went temporarily unnoticed by one so thoroughly invested in their work. Thread was pulled taught between the needle and her teeth, the needle itself pulled through fabric by nails that could almost pass for needles themselves. The arm not directly involved with the sewing processes was on the verge of popping out of place, contorting to best accommodate the patch job on her sleeve.

Beady gaze slid up to her master when he spoke, quickly tying off the last stitch. "Wonderful. So nice to see a project come together."

Ever the loyal apprentice, so long as it proved beneficial, at least, the Weaver was close behind in the march toward destiny. An elongated nail dragged across her own cheek as she pondered the pair of Jedi locked in combat below. "So very curious," she drawled, head tilting to the side as her gaze drifted between the pair and the wreckage that surrounded them. "And so much raw material, too."

If Letifer had mastered the slow approach, Spindle was fast approaching mastering the wayward one. She'd yet to draw a weapon as she slinked through the wreckage, not a physical one at least. Her fingers twisted and contorted, meant to draw forth power both of herself and from the fallen, twist their final moments into their own weapon.

 

[Valery Noble]

Location: Empress Teta
Objective: 1 — Enroute to Cinnagar
Appearance: Link
Outfit: Factory Link
Weapon: Double-Bladed Lightsaber
Tag: Kahlil Noble Shai Maji

​

Whether it was her words that got through to him or his own strength and experience as a Jedi, Kahlil fought on with the calmness one expected from a Jedi Master, despite the emotions he felt within because of this attack. Through their bond, the two coordinated effortlessly and while she split apart the flames and was knocked back by the repulsor blast, he wasted no second and engaged the Shistavanen up close with his blade.

The constant pressure, the coordination, and their determination to protect — all of it came together and was bound to continue until they would defeat their foe or complete their objective, and evacuate those who were still trapped in this area. In order to accomplish that, however, they couldn't lose their focus and Valery would have to jump back into the fray as well.

But that's when she felt it.

A sense of danger in the Force so strong that the pressure on her temples almost felt unbearable, and for just a few seconds, she just stood there and tried to adjust, while her gaze turned up to the sky to witness the fleet of enemy bombers approaching their district. With widened eyes, Valery turned away and began to move fast — she knew what was coming, and only one thing was still on her mind.

She had to protect as many people as she could.

Stopping near the remains of an apartment building, Valery jumped on top and raised her arms up to the sky to project a Force Barrier much like the one she used to shield her husband earlier. But this time, it expanded, grew far stronger and it was fueled by her desire to save the civilians who were trapped below her in the debris.

As the bombs fell all around her, she closed her eyes and allowed one image to flash through her mind, as a few simple words echoed between her bond with Kahlil Noble .

"I love you."

......

Slowly, Valery's eyes opened but she was still surrounded by darkness, dust, and debris. She was forced against the ground on her chest while some heavy chunks of stone and metal pinned her legs down. Her face was bloodied from the impact, her body was bruised and beaten, and she felt a lot of pain from her left hand, which was just barely sticking out of the pile of debris.

While the hand itself was still attached to her arm, three fingers were severed in the explosion and its aftermath, including the ring finger that held her wedding ring around it, which was resting just beside the pile of stone that kept Valery from moving.

Heh... still breathing...

She chuckled once but it quickly turned into several painful coughs. Somehow and for some reason, the Force had helped her survive the bombing, but she was stuck and in desperate need of help to get out of there.

 

[Erion Justeene]

Objective 1: The Invasion of Empress Teta
Section: Walker
Equipment: Lightsaber, Voidsaber
Allies: BOTM
Enemies: GA
Engaging: Kyell Laysel

There was only a split second before the impactful but non-lethal strike hit and the searing pain thereafter. It hurt and his rage, pain and every other sensation surged into the force, most of all pain, the fact that he got an ugly burn to his chest threw him off-kilter. He had been burned on Dromund Kass before, it took a while to recover but recover he did. But this hurt a lot more.

The pain gave way to the rage of a thousand suns. It cannot be good for his blood pressure to get angry like he was at this moment, but right now Superious could hardly bring himself to care, even his mother's rational voice was drowned out by the task at hand. Superious took note of the distant rumbles of warfare in the distance, the throb of the plasma burn on his chest and the surge of his anger all fueled him within the Force.

The Jedi needs to go and the fact that Kyell was able to land a dizzying attack on his person was something the Ubese was not expecting to happen and it gave both of them respite from the duel. Still. the momentary peace cannot be for idleness as an attack could arrive if there is an open door to it.

The stunning effect of what just happened faded and the Sith began to think a little more rationally now that he brought the pain to a tolerated level. The wound itself looked angry, charred and painful, the exposed skin was burned badly. But Superious did not care, at least not right now. Using the Force to grab his Saber, he ignited it and took on a very aggressive posture and with several furious swings went straight for Kyell with the intent to maim the Jedi.

<"Oh, that does it!"> He spat.

 

[Qellene Tyliame]

[Revenant Squadron]
[Revenant Ten - Flight Lieutenant Qellene Tylliame]
[A-Wing Interceptor]
Electra-12 , Wilhelm Vonreg

---

​

The whole battlefield seemed to rumble as the first Brotherhood shots rang out. Passive sensors detected massive bursts of energy erupting across the engagement zone-- Mawite autocannons, darting across the void and battering Alliance shields. All while Revenant Squadron... waited, still hidden under the frame of a derelict.

Qellene twitched when a crackling voice struck her ear.

“Engage,”

The data cables that had once linked the whole squadron left their ports in the hulls of Revenant's fighters, drifting lifelessly to the sides as impulse drives ignited. In moments, Qellene's A-wing bolted out an entry point in the derelict, her drives igniting the metal behind her. Short bursts of laser volleys soon left the A-wing's outboard cannons, lighting up Revenant Squadron's new hunting grounds with strands of red and green. Maneuvering jets built into the winglets of the craft coated its hull in dim blue light as Qellene spiraled and lunged for the throat of a passing TIE.

Amazing how accustomed she'd become to the pattern of motion, firing, motion... Qellene barely flinched when a cannon round slammed against her aft shields.

"Oh... you're going to regret that," she let out a devious cackle as her craft once more spun about, the crosshairs on her targeting computer following her cannons' gimbles to stare down the nose of an A-64. She fired, and suddenly begin to spin, diving to port as her first target looped around for a pass. Qellene's new course took her suddenly out of Revenant Squadron's visual range, weaving through the empty spine of a derelict bulk freighter to shake off the two fighters that had given chase.

A bead of sweat fell on her mad grin as she turned a corner and blasted through a bulkhead. Fire belched and licked the A-wing's canopy, then parted to reveal the same chaotic battlefield she'd left behind.

She couldn't find the A-64, but there was still a TIE on her back.

Qellene formed a regretful smirk-- she had to admit, she liked this pilot's guts. "Hmph... Kothan Si, partner."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"We shall see."

Gripping His lightsaber in one hand, His right, the Dark Lord of the Sith blocked Jax's opening strike and pushed the blade away. The ballet of blades resumed with a frantic flurry of motion, blades swinging back and forth in the half-darkness to illuminate both opponents in contrasting colors. The Dark Lord of the Sith was unfazed by everything that Jax threw His way, an impassivity brought on by many decades of harrowing war that had rendered the Black Iron Tyrant disconnected from the roiling turmoil of battle. Jax Thio was very talented, but when you have seen every glory and every horror that war could heap upon you, you eventually begin to experience it dispassionately.

Meanwhile, the Shadow had caught up to Iris Arani. It stalked across the floor, a dark inky blotch of writhing darkness that seemed to desaturate everything it came into contact with. As Iris gathered the courage to stand and face the creature that hunted her, the shadow rose up from the floor and loomed above her. It did not take the exact shape of the Dark Lord, but merely an approximate amorphous facsimile. No features could be identified in the darkness, only the vague shape of a head and broad shoulders. When it raised what passed for its arms, the crude hands simplified and elongated into a sharpened blade; much like those found on voracious insects.

Rearing up like a beast ready to pounce, the Dark Lord's shadow lurched towards the Jedi Padawan with both arms swinging down to skewer her. The shadow acted with bestial instinct, attacking more like an animal than a thinking creature. Its shadows were not impervious to a lightsaber, the blade capable of hewing portions of the shadow off from the main body. But these too acted with a mind of their own, moving independently to either rejoin with the main body to attack by themselves. Not only that, but the shadow was capable of rearranging its body to create various different shades; particularly cutting and stabbing instruments.

While that was going on, the Dark Lord and Jax continued to fight. Carnifex held His lightsaber in His right, striking and blocking in equal measure, without showing any signs of fatigue or frustration. With His left, He seized segments of the corridor wall, uprooted light fixtures, basically anything that He could tear away from the floor or walls and hurl them like missiles towards the Jedi Master. All He did was to assail and confuse the Jedi Master from every angle, striking where appropriate and holding back when not. Every action He took came with purpose, nothing was frivolously done. His tactical mind was in constant motion, calculating and predicting His enemies movements and planning His own accordingly.

Suddenly, the Dark Lord thrust out His left hand. Blue fire, much like what had attempted to ensnare Padawan Arani's legs earlier, rushed out in a great geyser-like gout. Unlike previously, this fire was only meant to destroy. It cascaded around the corridor, aiming to hit where the Jedi Master was and wasn't, and smearing flame across everything that came within its reach. The flames were unlike those produced in the wild or by man-made methods. Though they consumed flammable material like any fire would, they also vitrified stone, and consumed materials that were often considered flame retardant. Despite this voracious appetite the flames gave off no warmth, in fact, they seemed to absorb heat rather than product it.

For these flames were powered by the Dark Side, and by the Dark Side's power they burned. No water or earth could quench them, they would continue to burn and consume everything in their path. And the Dark Lord appeared to be able to control the flames, directing them aside when they came between Him and His adversary. The flames would likewise not creep near the Dark Lord. The Crownguard, on the other hand, quickly vacated the corridor and disappeared elsewhere into the Iron Citadel, lest they too be consumed by their master's dark fire. When there was a considerable amount of fire blanketing the corridor floor and walls, the Dark Lord lowered His left hand.

"What do you hope to accomplish with this futile resistance, Jaxon Thio? You cannot triumph against the Dark Side. Join me, and I will show to you the truth about your family."

Jax Thio | Iris Arani
Rannan Kol | Caltin Vanagor ​

 

[CETCOM]

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D A Y_O F_R E V E N G E
Subjugation of Foerost

FINAL DAWN
FOEROST, CORE WORLDS
POV : ADM. KAINE HAMILTON

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Xa Fel. Once the site of Shipyards and Hyperdrive Facilities once utilized by the Galactic Alliance, now a useless floating rock in space it’s surface reduced to a barren wasteland thanks to the orbital bombardment executed by the Star Dreadnought Fatalis while the space around the planet was littered with the remains of the Xa Fel Shipyards, scuttled by the Alliance before the Final Dawn could claim it. Regardless, under the direction of Grand Overseer Marlon Sularen, Wraith Squadron had been deployed to Xa Fel to oversee Project : Renaissance, a project undertaken by the Final Dawn to rebuild the Xa Fel Shipyards from what was left of it, and colonize Xa Fel with settlers from Final Dawn-occupied worlds such as lol, O’reen and Cathay.

Inside the FDS Purifier, Flagship of Wraith Squadron, Admiral Kaine Hamilton was in his office reviewing reports in regards to the progress of Project : Renaissance when the Captain of the Purifier barged in. “Admiral Hamilton, sir. We have received a transmission from Foerost.” the Captain said. Hamilton raised an eyebrow as he heard the officer speak. Foerost? Wasn’t that where the Grand Overseer ws currently leading Final Dawn and Mawite Forces in the conquest of the World to secure its shipyards? “What are the contents of this transmission?” Hamilton asked in response. “We have received orders from Grand Overseer Sularen, he requests the presence of Wraith Squadron at Foerost to assist the Mawite Warfleet in combating the Galactic Alliance.”

“Very well Captain, have all ships ready for deployment except for the FDS Leviathan and half a dozen Tyrants which shall remain here to guard Project :Renaissance from any Alliance incursion.It looks like we'll be paying a quick visit to Foerost.”

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The doors leading up to the bridge of the Purifier opened up with Admiral Hamilton proceeding to enter the bridge. The Purifier along with the FDS Vengeance , FDS Invincible and twelve other warships had already jumped into hyperspace and were now on-route to Foerost ready to reinforce the Mawite Warfleet there and deal a decisive blow to the Galactic Alliance once and for all. Hamilton then proceeded to approach the Captain who saluted as he arrived. “Captain, is the Purifier ready for battle?” Hamilton asked. The Captain nodded. “Yes sir, all systems are operational and we’ll be arriving at Foerost any second now.”

“Good. It’s time we unleashed the might of the Final Dawn upon these corrupt bastards.” the Admiral said. Soon enough, the FDS Purifier dropped from hyperspace followed by the rest of Wraith Squadron, as they emerged from the depths of space all around the Purifier marking the official entry of Wraith Squadron into the Battle of Foerost. The Odds had been tipped back into the Maw’s favor and now it was time to crush the Alliance once and for all.

“Contact the Grand Overseer, inform him of our arrival and that we await further orders. This battle ends now.”

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Spoiler: TL;DR

• A large portion of Wraith Squadron arrives at Foerost to reinforce the Mawite Warfleet

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Tags [BotM/Final Dawn] | Aldo Garrick | Nadja Keto | Kenth Berik | Electra-12 | Wendell Mortimer Glolmark | Akûz the Ravager
Tags [GA] | Liedran Kathause | Tren Chaar | Dracken Pryce | The Arbiter | Zahara Myneto | Spirit of Integrity | Qellene Tyliame | Kaul "Joker" Emos ​

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[Nadja Keto]

Location	Emerging from Hyperspace (Below Final Dawn's position)
Enemies	Galactic Alliance | Liedran Kathause , The Arbiter , Tren Chaar , Kaul "Joker" Emos , Qellene Tyliame , Constantine Oliva , Bané Zirbils
Allies	Brotherhood of the Maw | Marlon Sularen , Kenth Berik , Wendell Mortimer Glolmark , Akûz the Ravager , Khione , Aldo Garrick
Equipment	Blaster Pistol
Ship	Koros Major
Supporting Ships	Seven - Crucifix-II Fighters in Hangars - Eradicator-class Heavy Starfighter

"Ma'am?"

The word was phrased as a question: what were they to do? It wasn't unheard of to have some of a sizeable force in reserve, in fact it made perfect sense to do so in situations where things were unclear, but this wasn't some slow-burn war of attrition of the sorts that the previous incarnation of the Galactic Alliance waged against the late First Order - this was total war, the exact circumstance where numbers played directly into strategy. She was about to protest, perhaps mute her comms to prevent herself from saying anything to ruin the careful relationship that the Krath had built with the Maw, only for the arrival of Alliance reinforcements to force Marlon Sularen to renege on his instructions.

"You heard the man, move up to group with Task Force Vader." She answered with a degree of resignation.

Just as she had leaned back into her seat, however, there was a noticeable amount of excitement among the officers that monitored communications and sensors. "Don't keep us in suspense, what is it?" Nadja asked, shifting her weight to the right as she crossed her legs and rested her chin along the knuckles of her raised hand. "It appears that the Fatalis has arrived, ma'am." One of them, a senior officer, said. She arched her brow questioningly, understanding the reputation that preceded the people that this revelation meant had arrived with the ship in question but not quite as in-the-know as those that were more involved with previous Mawite incursions. "More of the Brotherhood, huh? Don't get your hopes up for an easier victory, overconfidence is a deep hole to climb out from."

She glanced out of the viewport again, wary of the men and women that led her opposition.

"Disgorge fighters, no theatrics and certainly no heroics." She ordered, looking down at the small holographic display by her elbow. "Hopefully we'll be directed to engage, until then fire off potshots at any ship that gets within range - keep us tight, lockstep."

 

[Corin Trenor]

THE DAY OF REVENGE
IDENTITY CRISIS vol. III
Issue #5 w/ Dagon Kaze & Jem Fossk

Beneath Corin, his knees threatened to buckle onto the scarred surface of the roof. He keeled over, one hand fell to a knee as the other rubbed at his throat, and several short retches followed his movements. It was terror that told him to remain there, removed, so far outmatched. His Master had not defeated Jem, the two locked in a duel, of what worth was Corin this bout, he wondered. Fear ran into his veins, and all that offered in return was blood that boiled.

"No!" Corin cried out between laboured breaths as those flashes of wild streaks struck out ahead of him towards the Jedi Knight. He could not stop them now, but there was the chance to stop her.

It was with a Force imbued rush into the air that Corin had sent himself forwards, the blue blade of his own saber came to life and the unmistakable hum neared Jem in the middle of her own assault on the Jedi. He treated it as if it were the heaviest of all swords, reared over his shoulder and slashed out in front of him, towards Jem's midsection, with force.

He remembered the order Kaze issued, but that hadn't mattered now.

 

[Ishida Ashina]

THE IRON GIANT WALKS | EMPRESS TETA | CINNEGAR

​

"Nothing ever really ends,"
"The cycle always goes on."

The tenets of The Maw had been baffling the first time she’d heard them. But in the glimpses through the smoke, and the way the war machine proved to keep churning, there was fatalistic truth to them that demanded futility’s recognition.

And they were too similar to studious observation.

"History has a habit of repeating itself. The actors change, but the play rarely does

Ishida’s expression tightened.

Somehow, through all the battles, the warlord remained steadfast and brutal. And, regrettably, alive. And now, he was re-equipped with something that looked more precise than the last time they'd encountered one another. This blade was different, narrower and less brutish. Something with a fierce smoothness that could be likened to her katana.

Their words were beyond her, but the ceremonious exchange made her apprehensive. Whatever she bore witness to was sacred, and emphasized the depths of The Mawite's dedication to their cause.

A cancerous obsession.

Whether it was her provocation, or the eagerness to put his new blade to the test, The Mongrel launched from his spot straight for her, faster than ever. In an instant, he was on her position, and that nascent and fresh blade carved quickly through the air to meet —

— nothing.

The slash was true, its mark pure, her abdomen would have been gutted if she weren't more aware. But Ishida hadn’t fully witnessed the metal she was about to face. Her first reaction was self-preservation.

Swiftly, her upright self spun into a leap that wrapped into a twist that would have arched over The Mongrel’s head and landed behind him, but while airborne in her twist — just a foot from the ground —she became belatedly aware of the overhead assault from the shock trooper unit.

Unseen by the young Jedi until it was too late, the shadowed soldiers with jetpacks attacked the tanks directly — the tank she’d been riding that had survived so far was torn asunder. So quickly, that those inside didn’t have time to scream before their terror was engulfed in the grenade’s eruption.

Flames ripped through the air behind her, the blast rippling out with enough force to shatter the ground that stretched beneath where Ishida’s feet had been. The duracrete ripped upwards, flames and hot air knocking against her so her landing ended up with more of a superheated roll from the torrent of ash, fire, and debris.

‘Augh!’ Where feet should have met the earth, her shoulder did instead. Her landing was not as intended, and a trill of pain spiked through her body, bright and throbbing. A half-managed grimace forced herself to overcome it, and the white-haired warrior pushed herself to rise, quickly, through the smoke.

A shadow still fluttered about, just above, one of the tanks and while The Mongrel was her focus — and his new blade — she had an opportunity within her grasp.

Quickly shifting from her fallen side to her feet, to launching in the air, Ishida’s assisted Force-jump vaulted her to the foot of one of the shock troopers. Instantly, the trooper kicked at its ankle where she held on, and one hand of hers went wild, and with a streeettch she was just barely able to draw a molten line through their flaming backpack. But it was enough for the fuel tank to spark and sputter before the driver was subject to a loss of control. When she withdrew from that, she plunged her blade forward again to pierce through the layers of their armour. With a jerk, Ishida’s wrenching motion to flip back to where she’d come from pushing them further out of control into a spiralling mess that collided with the impromptu-funeral pyre of many an Alliance soldier they’d caused.

The whole scenario lasted less than thirty seconds.

“Why!” Ishida barked through the flames after landing. The question rode out on a smoke-ridden cough.

For so long this fight had gone on, the galaxy wartorn. Soldiers, unnamed statistics, fell to adversaries on both sides.

She groped through the plumes of smoke for the familiarity she’d sensed earlier that was The Mongrel. She was happy to find the peripheral thrum of Bernard alive — though his self within The Force, faint as it was, was also tense — but displeased to find herself so blind toward her adversary.

She called out to the zealot once more: “Why does the cycle have to go on.”

Maybe he’d answer with his sword, maybe with his words.

She hoped for both.

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NJO | GA | Bernard | Kier Grey
BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | Darth Bellum | The Mongrel | Thomas Barran

 

[Voldran Molf]

Rhyssa Edaara Quillan-E’ron
Ace pilot, commando, major, 1st Expeditionary Fleet, 3rd Squadron, ANV Cadence - Deputy CAG, Force disciple ​

Objective: Protect the Iron Citadel, to get back to her team
Location: Iron Citadel, Empress Teta
Equipment: Purple blade lightsaber | 1x Assault Rifle | 2x Fyrirdögun Shortswords | 2x Hybrid Pistol | Light Armour with this look | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m || BB-4 astro droid – Little One || X-wing
Tag: Darth Ptolemis

[ Nuclear ]
"Galactic Common" | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Spoiler: tl;dr

• She falls under three bodies.
• Explosions begin at the spaceport

Rhys was also perfectly aware that she would have to neutralise her opponent as soon as possible because this fight could not last forever. The red-haired woman could feel her opponent wearing armour when she hit the helmet, mask, she could be felt there too. The fighter knew she wouldn't have the strength to do that forever. She will get tired or the man will break through her defences. For the time being, she was well and well done because she managed to surprise the man, but no surprise lasts forever. If the Darksieder only had time to use the Force for a moment on his opponent, the woman would be at a disadvantage.

The blades met, armour strained to the armour, then the fist to the mask. However, after that, the man had time to attack. And Rhys didn't have enough time to dodge the next attack. She would have had a chance if she decided to use her lightsaber against "things" flying towards her and cut herself through them. However, the man threw corpses at her. And some of them were the bodies of the people of the Galactic Alliance. She didn't want to mutilate them even more. Not to commit an irreverence.

The red-haired woman tried to dodge them, she also turned off the lightsaber, but she didn't have much chance to do so. Rhys was still able to jump aside from the first, but the rest hit her. Rhys fell to the ground and the corpses onto her. Although she managed to squeeze the lightsaber tightly and did not drop it, she was still under three bodies that she was trying to push away from herself when the man spoke.

Rhys snarled at the words as she tried to stand up.

"Go to the Outer Rim…" she sent him into hell, just in a more sophisticated way.

She had just reactivated her weapon when she felt trembling under her feet. The first explosion was heard in the distance at this moment. Farther, then newer ones heard, getting closer and closer. The earth was shaking more and more, it was as if fighter jets were firing from the air, while the city was becoming more and more destroyed by the fighting outside…

 

[Silas Westgard]

Location: ???
Objective: Survive facts and knowledge
Tags: Onrai

Silas stood there silently, staring into the bright Pulsar before them in thought. For now, all he did was listen to the entity talk to him about how he should open up his heart, and the fact his line of ancestors were almost nothing but Sith. He didn't seem to react at first, only trying to process what he just heard. No... it couldn't be true. Onrai must of been lying, trying to pull him into a mental trap that made him believe every word she said. Although, something deep inside called for it being truth, showing that he'd been living a lie all this time.

"N-no, you can't be right" he said, snapping his confused blue eyes in her direction. His family never mentioned his ancestors before him being cold blooded killers, probably for good reason. Were they really trying to protect him? or did they simply not know of their dark history? unfortunately, that was something he'd never be able to know.

Turning his body now he raised his saber with one hand towards the goddess, unable to figure out how to truly react to such a thing "I'm not a sith! nor will I ever will be!" the padawans voiced raised, almost in a sinister growl that clearly wasn't a natural thing for him to do.

"M-my path is with the order and them alone, something of which my ancestors would of followed towards me. I refuse to believe your words Onrai, Valery Noble would be the same..." he grunted with a tilt of his head, bravely beginning to get closer to the goddess with anger brewing inside of him.

"You speak so highly of your promise, but all you provide is lies and deceit. You are no goddess, all you are is a lost spirit craving power you can't find..."

 

[Onrai]

“It is in the nature of a goddess to be able to understand one’s past. No question about it - your lineage is that of Sith. Of the Dark Side.” She said punctually. “Of course, that doesn’t mean you are guaranteed to turn to it, or be a Sith. Whatever choice you make in your life is yours to take and only yours.”

Onrai sighed as she watched the hostility and resentment begin to boil within Silas. “Your voice and your anger are only more signs that such is true. Your ancestors were Sith, and yet here you are, not a Sith. You can choose to deny reality as much as you wish, but I assure you it still exists. And it’s not something you can so easily throw away such as the concept of space or time.” She crossed her arms. “There is no lies or deceit to be found here, Silas. Understand that I have only told you this because it knowledge kept from you that is yours to know. Again, whatever your next step, you may take it.”

Hopefully she wouldn’t have to get too rough. The last thing she wanted was to bulli him a little too hard…

Silas Westgard