The Eighth Battle - Coalition Invasion of Triumvirate Ruusan

[Kei Amadis]

Location: Olomondo Inside the Ruined City facing [member="Kiran Vess"]
Allies: SSC in the City
Enemies: ST in the City
Specific Opponent: [member="Kiran Vess"]

As with their (un)friendly sniper, Kei brought his saber down in a powerful downward slash with his left hand, having no idea what he was facing was disruptor technology. The charged projectile cutting straight through the beam, destabilizing its magnetic field somewhat as it passed, but causing the round to explode against the left leg’s armor with most of its full force. Ripping and tearing metal apart at the cellular level to expose torn flesh underneath.

Breathing deep of the force, he had never had much healing ability, only for others, what he did have like his other brothers was a stubborn refusal to fall over. Bloody and gashed on the left leg around the thigh area, there was allowance of the pain, it was obviously there across his face, and he did not resist it, owning it with gritted teeth.

On to that blooded limb, Kei began a ran. That was a slow shooting cannon... one advantage.

The saber was pushed forward with half of his strength, the other half picking up a slab of their ruined city and detaching it. The attack was a push pull motion, saber spinning forward, metal and rock thrust toward the back of the mercenary. Though Kei's saber span to make the target harder, it came not in a wild spinning action toward the mercenary, instead the saber was used as a battering ram in the force, locking forward as it came closer. A literally sideways battering as Kei ran behind it gripping the weapon through the force ahead of him. Smash. Smash. Smash going toward the man’s chest. Sandwiched punching power as the wounded guardian charged!

He could grip one, could he grip two?


Gear
Tempest Jedi Armor | Power Blade Mii Knife (Hip) | Lightsaber (Hands) | MCR Rifle Ion Ammo Only (Shoulder) | 2x Stun Grenades | Basic Field Medical Kit (Pouch) | Grappling Hook/Tie/Field Rations (Belt)

 

[Laguz Vald]

Olmondo
Inside [member="Boo Chiyo"]’s army
Allies: [member="Kiran Vess"] | [member="Cameron Centurion"] | [member="Lassiter"] | [member="Dak Canton"] | [member="Ameli Trahir"]
Enemies: [member="Kei Amadis"] | [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"] | [member="Tempest"] | [member="Charlyra Araano"]

Chiyo spoke and [SIZE=14.6667px]Vald[/SIZE] listened, truly listened. Faith was a fickle thing, and it could manifest in a myriad of ways not even the Host Lord herself could have predicted. So that is why Laguz listened to the boy, absorbed every word and analyzed them for what may lie beneath the surface. For faith, you see, was not a superficial thing. Not for the Primeval. Whatever he said, the boy genuinely believed, and that could both hinder and aid xir efforts. Xe just had to play xir cards right.

The contingent of troops slowly advanced deeper into the city, unmolested by the forces of [SIZE=14.6667px]Saeva[/SIZE] as per Laguz’s earlier orders. Doubtless, Aardveren had her hands full containing the vanguard and their vehicles. Kiran was dead or killing Jedi; either way, the sniper didn’t have to worry about him.

“The Sith?” No. Laguz gave a small shake of xir head. “They ask for everything. But we were never Sith, nor were we Jedi. We had both, and neither, Chiyo. In the end, the Lost don’t care about the distinctions of title and the color of your robes. They care for deeds.”

Xe paused so they could climb over a particularly large chunk of charred ferrocrete, still smoking faintly from the explosives used to blow up the house. Once they were back on solid ground, Laguz spoke again.

“Is this how the Jedi ask nothing of you?” Xe pointed at the scattered soldiers around them, then at the surrounding maze of buildings. “Did they tell you it was an honor to lead this reserve into battle?”
“Outside, they have a thousand troops waiting, and they give you this? A hundred and some change, for urban warfare with snipers and landmines at every turn?”

“Their kindness is a rotten gift, Chiyo. You studied history and culture. Look back… what do they tell you? Every regime executes those they don’t agree with. They just go about it in different ways. At least with Sith, you’ll know it when they put a gun to your head. Here?”

Xe made a sweeping gesture with xir hand and snorted. “They send you to die with a token few men, so they can keep their conscience and their hands clean. So they can feel better about your death.”

“There is not one honest heart among them. They lie and twist their souls for ideals they ultimately never follow. They preach peace, then blow hostages up without negotiation. They preach order, then level a rebuilding city to the ground.”

“The Primeval has always been the truth. Even when it hurts. Even when we must cleanse our own festering wounds.”

 

[Loray Tares]

Location: Valley of the Jedi
Gear: Items in profile
Allies: [member="Darth Orcus"], [member="Haytham Kaze"]
Enemies: [member="Jericho"], [member="Solan Charr"], [member="Joza Perl"], [member="Connor Harrison"], [member="Alkor Centaris"]

Spoiler

Weapons
A pretty rifle
Stabbing thing
An artifact (hidden in the arm)
-Armor
Armor
Fabric cloak thing
Leather waist thing
-Other Stuff
Force Disperser
AI Wrist Blaster
Field Disruptor
Holographic Disguise Matrix
Melee Shield
VT-CERS Augmentation System

Armored form came to a sliding halt in response to the gaping maw, a chasm opening within the debris filled sky. A torrent of power siphoned off from this world, into the next, and Loray knew this feeling all too well. Whether it was a passing dream or something that might have truly happened, he recalled descending into the depths of chaos alongside [member="Matsu Xiangu"]. And how the fastest way to the center was through the middle. His form paused in awe of the sight, watching as those around him struggled to remain untouched by the void. He simply clutched his right wrist, with his left hand, and squeezed hard. Tongue springing out from the palm, the extinguished blade was once more swallowed by the appendage as he jumped full force into the powerful tear.

Passing within the eclipse, the threshold between dimensions, there was something oddly comforting in the removal of control. He was simply a pawn in this endeavor, tumbling through time as all the others. Until he smacked hard into the desert terrain, leaving a plum and trail of sand in his wake. Stepping up from a forced kneeling position, the red slit of his helmet swiveled in survey of the land. A now empty hand held upright to the sky, catching embers across sealed lips, Loray fixed his view upon the field of blades and the cogs across the outstretched sky. Moving in tandem with one another, loud clicks in the distance personified the timelessness of this place.

In the expanse, he felt the presence of those who had journeyed with him from the barren landscape of Ruusan. Congregating, amassing next to each other, drops in the bucket of this plane, eternally filled with the mighty. Loray could feel it, the quickening deconstruction of his will power. The fuel to the flames of his simple desires for destruction, he felt whatever presence of mind he once had quickly wicking away in the dry desert heat. Stepping forward, once more moved to the groaning sound of his armor and its resistance, he placed hands upon two swords gripped by the earth.

Yanking the blades free from the soil, he inspected the weapons. One was etched with the runes of Sith Alchemy, hand and a half in length, with a handle wrapped with a red sash and a blade forever preserved in time. The other, unleashed from the ground, revealed it to be a shortened Sith Tremor sword, blade pockmarked with a motley spattering of rust and black stains.

Those aren't yours. Words formed across a strong wind as the presence of combatants materialized around him, ash and soot and dirt giving way to corporeal form.

No. But that doesn't matter. He didn't need to speak in order to communicate, the words moved from his mind like water filtered through the sieve. Full control to sanitize, but none to stop it.

Oh, we disagree.

He let out a long sigh as two combatants turned into four and then turned into eight. All wearing the robes of Sith Empires that preceded the present, tattered by battle and endless turmoil. Before they could antagonize him further, he stepped forward, plunging his bastard sword deep into the chest of the most loquacious of the group. A laugh emanated from the beings core, reverberating outward, until he was struck with a look of despair. Loray felt that cold presence once more, the power of the soul saber vibrating within the arm that could no longer stifle it. Whatever soul was in that beings body, it shattered and rocked from the dilapidated Sith Form, tumbling into the chasm of the cursed hilt.

Those who had congregated took a step back as Loray looked down upon the fleeting Sith, then up towards his companions. It seems the weapon held sway over this land, one that the Voxyn arm couldn't contain.

The...soul saber!

I have a lovers quarrel to interrupt. Join me. Or don't. And continue to squabble over meaningless things until the end of time.

They once formed a circle around him and now, they stood a strong force behind him. Quickly inclined toward his side in fear of the unknown, of where the soul goes when it dies in the Nether. Walking at first, turning to a slow jog, they moved towards the group. For even those with whom he formerly allied, safety couldn't be assured. Loray felt the power to point these beings in one direction, but had no power over discrimination. And he appreciated that, the lack of prejudice. All were worthy of their death in this forsaken place.

That jog turned into a full sprint towards [member="Haytham Kaze"] and [member="Joza Perl"] and whoever was foolish enough to stand next to them. With each step, the Sith Knights and Lords pulled swords from the ground and claimed them as their own, summoning more warriors to their purpose.

The purpose of utter annihilation.

 

[Nima Tann]

Location: Valley of the Jedi, Citadel
Allies: SSC, Ice, Her own mind
Enemies: [member="Darth Carach"] Dude,seriously? We are trying to kill each other! , ST
Objective: The Battle of the Minds

This whole thing was an error... She felt something was very out of place. It couldn't be that easy to strike down someone, even the most innocent person in the world would strike back and try to defend themselves. The first hit was directly to the chest, and the man immediately fell to his knees, he wasn't dead. The second she raised her lightsaber, she realized... The saber had no weight, even she, herself, had no weight. The room was perfectly crafted, but had some flaws since they've been recently created. And the man... He wasn't dying. After examining the area, there was a feeling... There was an aura, a very much living one. This whole thing, was his illusion. Not surprising, he was a mentalist too. But to take her immediately under an illusion without her realising, that was a totally different thing. She continued to hit him though one after one, even though she was in full understanding that it was all an illusion. With each hit, she could feel the reality around them slowly disappearing, one could say each hit in mental world hurt and would tire the mind of the one that was attacking as well, so that was what she was planning to do.

Opening her eyes after she was done hitting him in the imaginary world, as the influence over her mind felt like it slowly faded away, she immediately was struck again with another mind blast, this time knowing that he already started the fight and there was no turning back from this point, she put the defenses so this one wasn't able to put her into another illusion, but it still hurt like hell anyway as it was a powerful blast. This reminded her that she shouldn't underestimate the enemy in front of her, and this was going to be a difficult test. Reflexively she held her forehead in order for the pain to pass. "So... that's the Sith behind the curtains. Now that we stopped lying to each other..." She said, then extended her other hand towards him and sent a powerful mind blast just to test his defenses, also to connect with this attack as he was probably occupied with the mental blast, she sent a Force Push towards him to get him a bit away from her, giving her a chance to fully prepare herself as physically and get the charge.

From now on, everything could be just an illusion, or as real as could be. There was no evidence for both to tell everything happening was really happening in the real life as well, both being good mentalists and both being perfectionists, as she understood from his design of the real world, almost making her believe the false realism that the he created. Nothing was perfect, of course, there would be always flaws that would tell. It was important to see them. But, under the effect of the adrenaline of battle, that would prove quite difficult.

 

[Cameron Centurion]

Location: Olmondo
Allies: [member="Ameli Trahir"] | [member="Dak Canton"] | [member="Lassiter"] | [member="Kiran Vess"] | [member="Laguz Vald"]
Enemies: [member="Tempest"] | [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"] | [member="Kei Amadis"] | [member="Charlyra Araano"] | [member="Audren Sykes"] | [member="Cathbodua"] | [member="Arisa Yune"]

Though the Sith Lord had been aware of all that was happening on the surface during his brief sojourn in the shadows of the command center, it was a far different sensation to see it with his own eyes. Standing motionless, the large Sith Lord allowed his silver-green gaze to roam the scene that played out in his immediate vicinity. Troopers darted back and forth executing a variety of tactical instructions as conceived by their superiors. Smoke billowed to the sky in several points. What were once distant sounds of blaster fire and screaming were now so prolific in intensity that it could probably cause hearing loss with prolonged exposure.

Darth Ashmedai loved it. Victory in Olmondo was certainly defined differently for the Triumvirate than it was for the Coalition. With recent events, it was painfully evident to the Sith Lord that the Coalition and its allies really only had one desire. Wanton destruction. He was sure at the end of the day, they would claim some level of knowledge that there were no civilians in the city. In reality, it was basically impossible for them to know this without being expressly told, but the Sith Lord wouldn't commit anymore brain cells to the presumptuous nature of it all.

After all, he wouldn't have even had a thought towards civilians were he invading. Then again, his was a mantra of victory at any cost. Which really was quite a perfect segue to the report that followed from Decanus Respecia, whom had seemingly materialized at Cameron's side, still entrenched behind the heavy defensive perimeter established near the northeast corner of the city.

"Mi'lord. Hydra and Nomad flights have reported arrival at the IP. They should be overhead in a matter of minutes."

A uncharacteristically sincere smile spread across the Sith Lord's lips. "Very well, thank you."

The Decanus offered the Sith Lord a half-bow before turning to relay instructions that Lord Ashmedai had not stated, but he knew were implied.

For his part, Cameron casually began walking forward, towards the center of the city. Almost in slow motion, the dark blue and gray of his overcoat blurred into wispy lines before his physical presence had disappeared.

Shortly thereafter, orders began being dispatched across the secure network for Triumvirate forces to prepare to mark large clusters of enemy forces inside the city walls. The Decanus had not ordered an evacuation of the city. Purposefully.

------
~50 km from Olmondo

Lieutenant Commander Lee breathed evenly within the cockpit of his Diathim-class Interceptor. The Operations Officer for one of the squadrons assigned to the 3rd Air Wing, he had been tapped as the mission commander for what the vast majority of the pilots and flight crew assigned considered to be...well...it wasn't fun. Lee had joined forces with the Sith Triumvirate mostly because he'd believed in the leadership of the Triumvirs, but his current tasking to a Sith referred to as Ashmedai wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind. Sure, he understood the bigger picture, but that didn't mean anyone particularly liked it. The Lieutenant Commander didn't suspect the Sith Lord suffered the opinions of others.

As they reached the initial point, the Lieutenant Commander made the notification over the strategic operations channel which linked the command staffs of all units currently engaged in the defense of Ruusan. "Hydra Flight, alpha inbound to objective."

"Nomad Flight, alpha inbound to objective."

"Hydra and Nomad flights, Game Warden copies alpha. Report when weapons release."

"Nomad copies." The flight commander for the squadron of Hades-class Gunships gave the immediate response to the planetary command and control nexus located within the combat information center on one of the many capital ships orbiting the planet.

Switching over to the tactical channel for his aerial forces, the Lieutenant Commander gave simple instructions. "Hydra and Nomad flights, proceed to pre-planned approach vectors." A flurry of responses were heard as the massive formation of spacecraft abruptly split into twelve smaller formations, two interceptors and one gunship per. Four of the trios would prosecute engagement over the City of Olmondo while another four dealt with the reinforcements scattered along the perimeter. The remaining four were the last resort element...the one that would level the city completely. The general concept was for a gunship and two interceptors to approach their specific targets from each of the cardinal directions. If the timing was accurate, there would be less than a two second lag between impacts. Necessary to keep them from flying into the blast effects of their comrades' weapons.

~30 km

As Lee leveled out his own interceptor, his eyes drifted to the navigation display. Inhaling deeply, the Lieutenant Commander steadied himself for the task at hand. He was about to say something silently to himself, asking for forgiveness until his joint-tactical display updated with a flurry of information on current enemy troop locations. He'd thought perhaps that the city had been mostly lost with the distinct lack of information they'd received.

Hands flying over the map display, he keyed his communicator. "Nomad you getting this!?"

"Roger, sorting and prioritizing now..."

"We're in the chute... Hades 4 and 9, break off escort and give me a quick recon." In less than a second, replies filtered through the tactical frequency as two Diathim-class Interceptors pushed their vessels to full power. Once they were over the engagement zone, they'd abruptly slow their vessels to maximum cornering velocity and make a tight arc to get eyes on the situation on the ground.

The main force was less than twenty-five kilometers from the target area by the time the orders were disseminated.

Good thing the Coalition had wiped out the jammers, enabling the last minute updates to the strike package. Almost as if it had been planned all along.

Spoiler

NPC Forces Enroute

12 x Hades-class Gunships
24 x Diathim-class Interceptors

 

[Micah tol Powl]

Location: Approaching Olmondo
Allies: [member=Tempest] | [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"] | [member="Charlyra Araano"] | [member="Audren Sykes"] | [member=Cathbodua] | [member="Arisa Yune"] | @SSC
Down With The Sithness: [member="Laguz Vald"] | @ST
Arms & Equipment: Robes (Mask), XJ9 (left forearm), Sniper Rifle (Scope) (Ammo 1) (Ammo 2), Amphistaff, Hold-Out Blaster
NPCs for Story Fluff: Coalition Infantry (1 Company or x150 NPCs, 5 platoons divided into 30 squads of 10)

They hadn't been Sith. And they hadn't been Jedi.

They had been legends.

But, what price freedom? They had spread the faith of the Primeval, and what was there to say about their deeds? They had killed more of their own, and slaughtered vast populations in the bloodied rush to convert but a handful. It was truly remarkable to see what the Host Lord was capable of.

Terrible. Horrible. But remarkable all the same.

"The Primeval has always been about truth," the boy echoed, making his way up the jagged slope of ferrocrete. He considered her words, but largely because his first instinct was to dismiss them.

The Jedi had no idea he was here. [member="Théodred Heavenshield"] was the one they had been expecting. As to what they would think when they discovered that the son of Heavenshield was not among them... the Pantoran could not be bothered to care.

His place among them was his choice, not theirs. The portion of soldiers had been all the reinforcements that Rhen Var could afford to dispatch the effort here. Were it a Jedi instead of him, the numbers -- the danger -- would have been no different.

Except, had it been Théo who had crossed paths with a Primeval assassin...

"There is wisdom in what you say," the boy opined aloud, turning away from the battlefield to regard the figure before him. Deeds did indeed matter. [member="Ren Colvet"] had reached out to him as a friend, even when the Primeval were killing Silver Jedi on Ziost. [member="Norah Kitts-Castillon"] had objected strenuously to the boy's plan of turning himself over to the Jedi. [member="Orihime Ike"] had invited him along on her crystal quest, a most personal thing for a Jedi... even though he hadn't understood its significance at the time. He'd been entrusted with the teaching of [member="Anna Song"], [member="Ben Corscifine"], and [member="Lahi Te'ala"]. Included in their rituals and games, such as his tourney with what's-his-name. Audrey Sikes. Or something. That guy... dude... fellow... whatever. ([member="Audren Sykes"])

He had given his life over to [member="Thurion Heavenshield"], only to have it returned to him.

He had never cared for what Jedi did or didn't believe.

Their actions had already defined them.

"There is not one honest heart among them, but many." The boy spoke with a conviction that surprised even him. Crossing his arms, the amphistaff shifted from off his shoulders, so that it draped off his white robed form as though it were a living shawl. "Another was supposed to be here. I come in his stead, because I have seen the deeds of these Jedi," the youth said, in answer to her words.

She had said it herself that it was only too certain that the Sith would betray them. Sith sought power for their own ends, sharing it with no one. Not even the gods. "Why have you come here?" the boy asked softly.

It was a shame they were meeting like this. Another time, another place, he could have invited Laguz to come with him to Coalition Dromund Kass. Worship in the temples and kirks Anja aj-Rou had constructed there. Leave this place, and let the Jedi and Sith see to their own ends.

 

[Subject 37]

Olmondo: Inner City
Allies: ST and Saeva
Enemies: [member="Kei Amadis"]

In truth, Kiran didn't quite know what was going on in that moment. There were at times were he simply couldn't follow the process of battle that a Jedi was capable of. They were faster, stronger, and sometimes smarter than he was. They had the force, and he simply had his wits. With his age ever increasing and time breaking in one his bones Kiran wasn't quite as nimble as he used to be, but at the very least he could still react, still move. That was good, otherwise the man would have simply run the old Zeltros through and ended the fight there.

Instead Kiran jumped to the side.

He moved quickly, almost quick enough to dodge the Jedi's blade, but as he stretched to the side and the plates that covered his skin bent slightly the searing plasma of a lightsaber found it's way past the protective gear that he wore and cut through the ooglith beneath. There was a shriek, though whether it came from Kiran or the living creature that covered his body was impossible to tell. The old merc crumpled in his jump a sudden lurch of pain tearing through his abdomen.

A heavy crash saw him fall to the floor, the Needle Disruptor slipping from his grasp.

Before the Jedi could fall upon him Kiran reacted, ignoring the pain in his side and pulling the Tomahawk from his back. The pick end of the axe flipped down as Kiran wrenched with his free hand, the grav-glove grasped onto the Jedi's leg, and Kiran sought to pull him onto the ground so he could bury the Tomahawk in the man's now exposed flesh.

 

[Laguz Vald]

Olmondo
Inside [member="Boo Chiyo"]’s army
Allies: [member="Kiran Vess"] | [member="Cameron Centurion"] | [member="Lassiter"] | [member="Dak Canton"] | [member="Ameli Trahir"]
Enemies: [member="Kei Amadis"] | [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"] | [member="Tempest"] | [member="Charlyra Araano"]

Xe nodded, dipping xir head low. There was a tinge of truth, however blinded, in the boy’s words. He believed what he was saying, and that was the root of the problem.

“Have you?” xe questioned at last, a note of sadness to xir voice. “Have you really seen their deeds?”

And then Laguz produced xir datalogger, bringing up the earlier recording without ceremony. Xe’d had the best vantage point, though Kiran’s and [SIZE=14.6667px]Gallad’s[/SIZE] vids would complement xir version nicely. But for the current purposes, it would do. Later, when they were compiling it for the HNN and other media giants, they could take the time to arrange and compose it professionally.

“These are the Jedi who preach kindness. Perhaps you have seen them do better. Or perhaps they only chose to show you what they wanted you to see. You said it yourself, Chiyo. You weren’t supposed to be here today. You weren’t supposed to witness their true nature. And yet…”

Trailing off, the sniper let the recording speak for itself. The boy-warrior would see a hundred hostages guarded by a paltry two men, bombarded and reduced to a mess of meat and brains without a single attempt at negotiation. It had been captured from too far off for the [SIZE=14.6667px]detcords[/SIZE] to be visible, and thus all Boo Chiyo would see was the egregious callousness displayed by the people he believed in so stalwartly.

“This is why I am here today,” Laguz said solemnly, meeting the boy’s gaze once more. “I cannot abide hypocrisy. The Triumvirate might call themselves Sith, but all they have done here is rebuild the infrastructure and establish order. Today, the Coalition have killed more civilians than the Triumvirate have since their conception.” And the worst – or perhaps best – thing about this was that xe didn’t even have to lie.

“If there are truly good hearts among them, take them with you. Take them to Primeval. But first, teach them what it means to cut off the rotting limb... before it’s too late.”

At this, Laguz looked ahead once more, where the silhouettes of the vanguard and their [SIZE=14.6667px]warmachines[/SIZE] marred the smoke-colored horizon.

“Before the whole body spoils.”

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Location: Valley formerly of the Jedi => Netherworld
Allies: Sith Triumvirate (Got you back, boo).
Enemies: Filthy mudbloods invaders. [member="Shmi Labooda"]

Armament:
Armour.
Nagajj & Tsaisibola.
Rudis of the Dark Lord.
2x curved hilt lightsabres.
Vibrodagger.

Fear, she sensed it like a vibration in the air. One of the two remaining Jedi in the underpass was not as steady as its more experienced mentor. Fear, it was a weapon in the hands of the willing and the able. Fear is the mind killer; the prelude to corporeal expiration. Darth Ophidia reached out to those feelings like a harp-player and plucked the strings of terror. She used no words; words could be defeated. Instead, she mentally channelled a sound, a sensation, a raw unease to widen the cracks in the young Knight’s resolve. Her manipulations were baked deep into the Force, letting her location remain obscured in the shadows and residual torment from the original collapse of the structure.

Then, a resounding crack, the source of which was beyond the sight of the Pale Assassin. Yet, its power was far too great to ignore. A shudder of cold went through her and she managed just to turn her head to peer into the stone wall behind her before the power of the crack made its impact on the underpass. Stone immediately cracked and shifted as the top of the dilapidated construct was torn asunder and everything within made victim to the terrible pull of the shatterpoint and the Netherworld.

She felt stone rake across the side of her helmet, knocking her head aside and cracking the transparisteel at the corner of her left eye slit. Sparks flew off from the contact of stone versus metal and the Sith Lord herself was thrown across the underpass alongside the stone. In an act of self-preservation, he managed to break the fall through a gust of telekinetic energy. Yet, the impact of stone and beskar made an audible clang and shorted out the stealth system of her suit. The Rudis, dark grey and scrawled with unintelligible words of crimson, fell into the dust beside her.

That one split second before the draw of the Netherworld executed its effect on her form, she could see it. The slit, the portal, the crack in the fabric of space and time. It's unholy song rang in her ears like the whispered lies of cherubs. For all this time she had revered death, now she gazed into its open maw in pure awe.

Nothingness, then a breath.

 

[Connor Harrison]

Objective 1
Location: Valley of the Jedi
Mission: Advance to the Citadel
Allies Lost To Netherworld: [member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member=Jericho] | [member="Joza Perl"]
Enemies Lost To Netherworld: [member="Darth Orcus"] | [member="Haytham Kaze"] | ST

OOC:

Spoiler

This is a decision to allow others to continue faster in their confrontation as I am on LOA and don't want to slow others down, so may be best taking myself out the equation and work with anything/anyone else around.

Connor hurt in both his left arm and his right hand. The Force lightning was raw, and it always singed the skin, but he knew that. And the burnt flesh from the Whale-Man was still raw. However, he also hurt internally, as if a dead weight was resting on him. Opening his eyes, it was ghostly quiet, bar the distant sounds of artillery fire and roaring engines up above. Rolling onto his side, he glanced around through heavy breathes and noted the others were gone; it had been a tear after all. Created through the culmination of all the Light and Dark powers into one explosive combination. Hence he was partly to blame.

He rolled over, and knelt up, hands resting on the ground, the hilt on the ground embedded beside him. Slowly, he reached up to activate the com in his mouth-piece.

"The Valley has a tear; something has opened up. Watch yourself, there may be more volatile pockets waiting to open up." He glanced up to the Citadel. "I'm going to try secure the area as best I can... Connor out."

Looking left and right, he could make out figures in the distance but couldn't be sure if they were friend or foe - time would tell, and he just hoped the others were safe at least. He pulled the hilt out of the ground with a heavy yank, and stood, ready to take what may come from the Sith.

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Location: Netherworld, Field of Blades
[member="Joza Perl"] | [member="Haytham Kaze"] | [member="Jericho"] | [member="Solan Charr"] | [member="Loray Tares"] [member="Alkor Centaris"]
Equipment: Koodan battle armor | Sith Aspis | Grabthar-class Breaching Hammer

Fury pulsated through Orcus’ veins, musculature rippling under armor as the Herglic trembled with pure, unadulterated rage. Fathomless black eyes searched for anyone who yet lived in this plane of the damned, alighting at last upon those few coalition troopers who had been sucked through the rift. They’d barely regained their feet, weapons not even held ready.

The Sith Lord grinned wide, no humor in the affectation, only cruel malice. Reaching over a shoulder, he removed the breaching hammer from the clamp on his back and rolled the haft around in his flipper. Yes. The weight was heavy, good. He wanted to feel their bodies shatter beneath his blows.

In three steps, Orcus crossed the distance between himself and the dazed troopers and rammed the end of the hammer into the gut of the closest. The soldier doubled over the hammer and retched blood before slipping off with a weak gasp. Orcus brought the hammer round in a dolorous overhand blow that smote the second infantryman into the ground as if he were beating in a tent peg. Nothing remained of the man but a mushed puddle of bits of armor, flesh and bone. The last soldier stared stunned, barely registering what had happened to his comrades. Orcus delivered a front kick to the chest that sent the grunt flying backward, sternum obliterated.

Still wearing that empty, toothy smile, Orcus strode through the crumpled bodies and toward the two individuals assaulting his apprentice. Of the Brother and the Jedi he had fought before there was no sign. In the midst of his fury, he had no room to wonder why.

He pointed the blood smeared hammer in the direction of the King of Kesh and the White-Eyed man.

“You,” he bellowed, voice the crash of thunder, “It was the COALITION who tore asunder the Force itself to bring us here. You claim to want light and peace, but you are steeped in the Dark Side. You think it is your ally? FOOL. Your kind straddle the line, reaching for two halves of separate worlds. You forget....”

The Darth stretched both arms out to the side, aura swelling with aphotic energy. He drank in a power sweeter than any nectar until he could hold no more. Reaching far back in his memory, he plucked out a single moment. A moment when the Jedi Hion of Giju had fallen to his knees, helpless before Velok’s sorcery. Recalling the way the Force had bled from him, as if his very essence were being sucked away, Orcus recreated the flow in the opposite direction, summoning up an unquenchable thirst that he knew once started could not be undone.

He knew the risks, but his wroth drove him on. The cetacean quaked with the agonizing thirst, stretching out one trembling flipper toward them. Three tendrils of gold light shot from the Herglic’s fingers, groping through the air like snakes as they wormed toward the King of Kesh and White-Eyed Man and Orcus sought to drain the force, nay their very lifeforce from them.
“We are Sith and the Dark Side belongs to US.”

 

[Tempest]

Location: Olmondo and surrounds.
Allies: [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"] [member="Charlyra Araano"] [member="Arisa Yune"]
Enemies: [member="Dak Canton"] [member="Cameron Centurion"]

At last Tempest was patched up enough to strap on her dented armour. She wouldn’t be able to use her left arm much, if at all, but she could still provide some assistance.
The jamming was finally down, which meant she was able to communicate properly.
“Sio, come in, I’m moving towards your position. What’s the plan?”

She wasn’t aware there was a Sith Lord moving around, though she assumed there was some sort of leader in the city. Hopefully combined with Siobhan and Lyra they could smash them up, whoever they were.

Losing the jamming also allowed her to hear the story outside. That was not a nice story.

One of the brighter sparks in the battle as the Manta gunships. The twelve of them faced against twelve of the lighter armed and slower Pyrrhus gunships on the other side. Their heavy shielding, greater speed and firepower gave them a great advantage, but 3 were still lost and several more had their shields depleted. However, it was hoped that the enemy had taken far more serious losses.

The artillery and most of the AA batteries though were not so fortunate. Artillery was not meant to engage the enemy directly, it was meant to sit a dozen kilometres away and lob shells at the enemy. Thus, the mad, and somewhat ignominious retreat was soon overtaken and the artillery which was cut-off. The pitiful e-web mounted on it was of no help, and one by one the guns were destroyed or scuttled to prevent capture. Only the typhoons escaped the ruin.
Worse still was to come as six of the nine Hydras were caught and destroyed before they could reach safety. These now opened a hail of fire, combined with the mobile platforms, on the Dreadhawks making their dive bombing run.
Alas, several tanks were still hit by the charges, though their wide spacing and thick armour helped protect those not directly struck from being completely destroyed.

Seeing the artillery and anti-air was a grim sight, but in some ways it had been beneficial. Now the 2nd Brigade fell back and took position around 1km from Olmondo. The infantry took whatever cover they could in rocks, depressions, stunted foliage or anything else which would give them cover. At least there they could defend and not be overrun by the enemy’s fast assault, and would provide less of a target for the enemy.

The tanks and walkers moved to support from each new attack vector. They were much slower than the Triumvirate, but in a straight fight the Redeemer was better armed and armoured than the Lykos. The walkers were easily capable of wrecking APCs or taking on many infantry. It was here that they waited.

As the enemy must have now moved into range, given that the artillery had been caught close-ish to the city, the surviving Typhoons fired volleys of missiles into the enemy infantry and APCs to try and break them up. The tanks fired at any Lykos which entered range.

The 1st Brigade troops not attempting to take the city, especially the tanks and walkers, moved to join their allies and provide a proper reserve. With the lack of good air support at this moment they took cover wherever they could to prevent being openly spotted.

Finally the isolated company which had been bypassed by the armoured units had suffered heavily and realigned their barricades to face the city and the enemy now far beyond them, but made no move forward. Their morale was shot from the onslaught, and only the safety of their defences prevented them fleeing.

Spoiler

Coalition Forces – 1st Expeditionary Division

1st Brigade (In and around city)

• 2nd, 3rd Battalions, Coalition Infantry (varied armament). (1,200 troops)
  2nd Battalion operating inside city. 3rd Battalion in reserve outside, one company with Boo Chiyo.

[*]1st Armoured Battalion, Redeemer Battle Tanks. (27 vehicles in 3 companies of 9)

• 1st Company operating inside city. 2nd & 3rd Company outside. Those outside taking cover and acting as reserve.

[*]1st Walker Battalion, Mag'ladroth Walkers . (27 walkers in 3 companies of 9)

• 1st and 2nd Company operating inside city. 3rd Company outside. Those outside taking cover and acting as reserve.

[*]1st Iron Legion Company, Iron Legionnaires. (150 droids in 15 squads of 10).

• 5 squads inside city, rest outside. Those outside taking cover and acting as reserve.

[*]1st Company Heavy Platforms, ARGH Mobile Platforms. (9 droids, 1 heavy, 3 medium, 6 light)

• Deployed inside city.

2nd Brigade (In reserve)

• 1st, 4th Battalions, Coalition Infantry (varied armament). (1,160 troops)
  Forming defensive position ~1km from Olmondo. Taking cover in any terrain they can find.
• 1 company 4th Battalion defending rear with 10 mobile barricades. 150 110 troops.

[*]2nd Armoured Battalion, Redeemer Battle Tanks. (27 20 vehicles in 3 companies of 9)

• Forming defensive position ~1km outside Olmondo. Firing on enemy tanks.

[*]2nd Walker Battalion, Mag'ladroth Walkers . (27 walkers in 3 companies of 9)

• Forming defensive position ~1km outside Olmondo. Integrated among infantry.

[*]2nd Iron Legion Company, Iron Legionnaires. (150 droids in 15 squads of 10).

• Forming defensive position ~1km outside Olmondo.

[*]2nd Company Heavy Platforms, ARGH Mobile Platforms. (9 droids, 1 heavy, 3 medium, 5 light)

• Firing on Dreadhawk gunships.

Division Assets

• 1st Artillery Battalion, Thunderer & Typhoon Artillery. (21 Thunderers in 7 sections of 3. 6 Typhoons in 2 sections of 3.)
  Thunderers destroyed. Typhoons withdrawn into defence line and firing on enemy infantry/APCs.

[*]1st Air-Defence Battalion, Hydra & Mobile Platforms. (18 3 Hydras, 9 droids: 1 heavy, 3 medium, 5 light equipped for AA)

• Hydras nearly destroyed. Remaining units firing on Dreadhawks.

Air Support

• 12 9 (3 squadrons) Manta Gunships (attack run beginning).
• 2 squadrons Avenger Fighters (in space, usable next turn)
• 3 squadrons Cobra Gunships (in space, usable next turn)

 

[Jericho]

Location: The Valley of Jedi/Citadel -> Netherworld
Nearby Allies: [member="Connor Harrison"] / [member="Solan Charr"] / [member="Joza Perl"] / [member="Alkor Centaris"]
Engaging Enemies: [member="Darth Orcus"] / [member="Haytham Kaze"] / [member="Loray Tares"] / Army of Spirits
Objective: Fight.


Jericho stood firm in front of the two allies he had against the lone sith. Remained silent when the sith called him filth, there was nothing to argue there after all that was nothing but the truth. He has done a great many things that stained his hands for the entirety of his prolonged life and he had to live with that for those he cared for. When the King of Kesh called him a child for his relentless anger and over zealous need to protect his padawan, Jericho remained silent, for again it was truth. If it was childish and selfish to care for someone and do what it took to keep them safe, he was the most childish and selfish. Despite his immense size and brutish attitude, it was who he was, for better or for worse and he would keep to his way. Everyone had a vision of their own reality and this was the way he saw his. The warrior remained silent and remained steadfast. Before long, Loray the beserking monster of a man made his presence more than just reasonably noticeable. As his person came to view, he was followed by an enormous force of dark spirits and he held a terrifying blade and his thirst for blood was so immense it could be felt. Not too long after the Large Orca size man made his appearance.

His voice boomed with a strong, hardy tone yet unlike most juggernauts his tongue was practiced and lined with the finest silver. The whale sith wasn't completely wrong, it was the power of an ally of the Silvers that caused this. He was right to claim the hypocrisy of the two that stood before him. But the dark side did not belong to the sith nor did the light belong to the Jedi; the force was everywhere and truly claimed by no one only used by the limits of the minds that is graced by it. Jericho took a few steps forward toward the incoming horde and the Orca and his apprentice. He took a moment looked to Joza for the first time giving her a somewhat soft look, seeing the child he had met all those years ago grown into a woman then he looked to Solan Charr and gave him a respectful nod giving a faint signal to retreat. Whether or not he picked up on the signal Jericho's next move would speak louder. Without a word, he raised a hand and the earth shook behind him raising up creating a wall between him and the other two.

He would attempt to cover their retreat; After all, there was still a mission at hand for the SSC and that mattered more than these matters of philosophy and relations.

In terms, of engagement in the dark side of the force alone, Jericho was clearly outmatched by the whale-like man alone; the beast even able to drain the force being emitted from warrior even no, even deeper, the whale-like man possesses such power that the warrior started to feel physically drained. All his physical, mental, force, martial, and endurance training would mean nothing if he didn't use it to its fullest potential right? Jericho looked at his hand for a moment and could feel it shake and felt his heart racing at ridiculous speeds with an all familiar feeling, fear. He was afraid, no matter how many times he was so close to death this same fear filled his body and mind; the touch of death gripping at his very soul tightly and never wanting to let go. He feared that his wall would not hold long enough for the pair to get to the vortex and escape, he feared that he wouldn't even make a decent match for the powerful beings that stood before him. Jericho took in a deep breath and took a moment close his eyes and for a moment everything seemed to stop to him. He was in his own mind, listening to his own breathing, almost in like a dream/trance like state.

'Welcome back...Little boy....' The voices whispered to him.

It was a dimly lit room, deep within there was Jericho. It was lined with various books, records, and holocrons. Shadows danced the walls with an eerie rhythmic grace. Not a sound could be heard, well no... a single constant scratching did echo over the small chamber. It was the sound of a pen being furiously brushed against paper. The sound could be traced to a single small young man under the few dimmed down lights. The young man's body wrapped in a traditional padawan's robes. His black, scruffy hair laid lazily and unkept slightly over his eyes; as he wrote with his expression hidden in darkness. Just continual quiet writing his in room all alone, away from the screams of pain, the sounds of battle, the prattle of politics, the back and forth screeching of conflicting philosophies and dictations of what was good and evil. Just the little boy, his little book and his little pen writing away. Jericho took a step foreword, already realizing the little boy with scruffy hair was himself before everything that happened in his life.

This was his peace. The light within himself began to flow.


His little self looked over to him, grinned slightly and signed to himself something the native language of the Lorrdian but only something he would understand. Jericho nodded slightly acknowledging what was stated, tears rolled down the face of his younger self as he began to fade as well and small dimly lit room. As the room and his little self faded from this mental reality; images began to flood in a new setting made the sounds of waterfalls and wildlife echoing throughout, the smell of the lush forests of Naboo, the feel of the humid air; brushing lightly against his skin. Again another vision of himself now in his early teens unlike his child self, he struggled to find his purpose and the death of his master took a heavy toll on him scarring him to this day and at this time questioned the darkness within him. The young man blamed himself for her passing though he never took part in it and blamed sith for the cause since it was during the inner conflict with the republic and its politics.

This was his hate. The darkness within him began to flow.

In this self-imposed campaign to eliminate the galaxy of all the "evil", Jericho found himself someone like himself, someone lost and alone. Someone that understood his pain yet knew not the direction they were heading, though her face was shrouded by a touch darkness of the loss of memory he knew who it was and her name was....Her name what was it? For whatever reason, he couldn't recall....But This person would trigger his guilt and his need to protect even more but there were many adventures they had together, there were memories made him, happy and relaxed. The times they trained together, fought together, played together. They stood together like a pair of lost wolves and the thought of his helping her cope with his own loss and helping him realized what mattered to him and what he had to stand for no matter the cost.

This was his serenity. This light within himself began to grow.

Blood seeped from the head of his younger self as well as the person with sounds that he was much more familiar with echoed through his mind. Screams, constant screams drowned only by the sounds of clashing sabers and blaster fire. The smell of scorched earth and flesh entered his nose. Zeltros, his first large scale battle as a considered "master". The sight of a familiar face corrupted and pained, once stood as a friend now and enemy. Jericho tried to reason, tried to talk, tried to convince even let his guard down opening his arms widely and embraced his friend only to feel his closest and coldest embrace of death. He felt betrayal for the first time and the taste of his harsh reality nothing could be mended by his love or his compassion. Only his fists and his blades.

This was his pain. The darkness within him began to grow.

The many losses of his loved ones, the coldness to those who care for him, his isolation, his experiences. Jericho is a fighter because he is a lover. He is a protector because he is a murderer. In war, he kills, so others do not have to. In his selflessness taking on this self-imposed burden, he was, in turn, being selfish protecting those he deemed worthy of protecting. This hypocrisy fueled his rage in turn his calm state of mind and in that....

His power.

With another breath, the warrior smirked under his mask. Everything came to pace once again, before withdrawing his blade and lunging towards the incoming army of spirits, he knew his footwork that was for certain; his lightsaber reflected an enemy's number of enemies blade again and again. One swooped low aimed for his leg, the warrior narrowly dodged it. His master had taught him well. There was no longer time for him to pause only act with his tactics and natural intincts. While mid fight he was listening to each of their breathing, the main three, while allowed muscle memory act against the army of spirits. He readied himself for the next engagement, observing their movements and learning how they fought.

And with that,Jericho summoned his signature double-bladed orange saber to his hand, a sword now in either hand. He thrust upwards, then sideways, dodging a slice from the other beings before rolling sidewards; pushing outwards and using a force wave to send several flying away. The clash of metal to saber, again and again against each other. He gritted his teeth, blocking one of the beings swords before kicking at its legs - but it remained resolute. "Hmm.." The warrior grunted.

He sped up his movements, this time, leading from the left; to right he spiraled his arms in the flurry towards another of the spirit like being; dipping down before charging into it with his shoulder. He recovered, repositioning himself and dusting himself off. This time tightening his grip. Before he erupted into laughter, first it was just a small laugh 'ha.' but it escalated. He boomed before he thrust out his saber through a spirit, and it let out a loud and painful shriek and dissipated only to reappear in the distance. The warrior slash and dashed making a bit more distance between him and the three and the raiding army the dark master, Loray seemed to possess narrowly dodging other several strikes made by the spirits. "Is that all YOU HAVE?!?" The warrior finally broke words with the sith mainly Loray though he could still for the whale's power draining him. Death was almost guaranteed without help. But that didn't mean he wouldn't take someone with him, if not, well, at least he would be able to test his limits and see just how far he has gotten in his life in terms of power. After his taunt, with the control his will the earth obeyed his command to create several spikes aimed to disorient if not, pierce through the three.

While more spirits came at him, they would feel intense burning his body was coated with white and black flame. The warrior was going to show them just what he could do.

Spoiler

Hope this makes up for the wait but again if anything is wrong or unfair, let me know and I'll edit.

 

[Rasu Gan]

Location: Valley of the Jedi
Objective: Still tea time....
Allies: [member="Matsu Ike"] [member="Sorel Crieff"] [member="Setzi Lunelle"]
Enemies: [member="Sinistra"]

Rasu turned as well, sharing the sensation of a shift in the Force. Turning to Matsu to gain a glimpse of understanding, the Shi'ido searched for clues in the landscape to decipher what may have caused such a tremor. Extending her Force aura, Rasu noticed the absence of several Force-users, having seemingly vanished from the material plane. While she was certain that death was not the result, the Jedi Master remained puzzled by the event. Things were indeed picking up in the Valley, and she just hoped that the Coalition were ready for the unexpected.

Accepting the tea offered to her, Rasu had accepted the peculiar development of the duel and had instead turned her attention to the invasions evolution as a whole. However the recent abnormality in the landscape had caught the woman's attention. While unknown, the shift reeked of some dark side manipulation and for that reason Rasu prepared for the worst, knowing that the protection of the present Padawans would remain her priority. Sensing the Force swell towards Matsu, the Shi'ido urged the younger Jedi to gather towards the Atrisian Jedi as a barrier was cast around the group, shielding them from this abnormality.

Nodding in agreement to the statement of Matsu, Rasu again turned to face the Ruusan landscape, sending her hopes and prayers out to the members of the Coalition. While of little help on the larger scale, it eased the woman's concerns and gave her something to do while the tea turned cold in her hands.

 

[Kei Amadis]

Location: Olomondo Inside the Ruined City facing [member="Kiran Vess"]
Allies: SSC in the City
Enemies: ST in the City
Specific Opponent: [member="Kiran Vess"]

Before he could fall

Metal and stone flung at Kiran’s back, where was that going when Kiran fell aside? Following along its merry way, the two items met… stone and metal colliding with burning hot plasma. Resulting left over rubble hit Kei himself, if not for his force push gripping and throwing the bulk aside, the saber landing somewhere behind Kiran. Blinded by dust, and rubble, he couldn’t see let alone make out the drawn tomahawk going for his thigh. Obviously the leg would pull back instinctively if there was anything left after the weapon cut home, only it was caught where it was! Unable to move. So Amadis’s leg and ruined armor took the full force of the blade…

Almost…. Hands dropping down to attempt to grip the wrist as it pierced skin. There was an audible shout, no sane man could hold that pain in if he was honest. Amadis could very well now die here if that weapon went any further, or was pulled out without attention. Both Kei's hands went to try to grip the attacking wrist to hold it in place. Pushing his other leg down as he felt his body pulled, he remained upright stubbornly, if you could call the weapon sticking out of his left thigh upright.

Kei thought of [member="Elara Wahia"], and what she'd say about now to him. Imagining her slapping and saying Kei snap out of it, your not dying her! Calmness formed within the Jedi Master, now most of all he didn't lose himself, despite and perhaps because of the blood gushing down his leg.

Falling on the Wrist, Elbow smash to the face

Right leg going forward. Strong grizzled grin overcame him, which might be unnerving to see about now for the man whose wrist he hopefully held. Kei didn't pull away the blade, but tried to hold that weapon in place. With any luck the blade might be lodged if it had struck as far as bone or stuck within the ruined armor it had pierced, he couldn’t tell yet. Now HE tried to hold the mercenary in place and dropped his right side weight down on Kiran’s outstretched wrist to pin it. Hopefully Kiran would be unable to retract his weapon easily, or worse push it forward, else this could very well be over soon, blood loss itself dictating his death.

Dropping himself forward and down toward the wrist, break, bruise, sprain a possibility, his armored elbow went for a non too subtle smash at the man’s chin. Still trying to knock him out, only this time with the extreme prejudice of survival instinct attached in the strike, their brawl becoming more dangerous for both by the second. "You don't have to die here."

Gear
Tempest Jedi Armor | Power Blade Mii Knife (Hip) | Lightsaber (Dropped) | MCR Rifle Ion Ammo Only (Shoulder) | 2x Stun Grenades | Basic Field Medical Kit (Pouch) | Grappling Hook/Tie/Field Rations (Belt)

 

[Thelma]

Location: Olomondo
Allies: [member="Cathbodua"] @arisa yuna
Enemies: Who would want to hurt little old me?

Thelma was rushing around, trying to heal people through the force during the bloody execution of this battle. Yes they where the invaders, but it wa for the great good, she told herself. As sith where evil butchers, and would kill without mercy. Day before she arrived here she was crying about it, as it was her side what cause death destruction by being here. She was having moment's doubt, and questioning why they where here in the first place. That went when the first people started to come into her tent, she was using the force to heal people. When she lacked in skill in the force, she was using needle and thread and bacta injections, to help keep them alive. She need a break, it was more than she could deal with, just a moment to regain her breath. As she headed outside, she was approached by a lieutenant, and he gave her news she was going to be redeployed, to help with casualties near the front line, they had no jedi healers there. She muttered, But I am just a padawan. He looked at her and simply said Sorry but war is hell, now get moving She was pointed to a speeder, and she ran over to it. She lept in and it sped off towards the front, it just her the driver, a couple nurses and lot medical supplies. It would not take long for her to get there, she just hoped her stomach could deal with it.

 

[Loray Tares]

Location: Valley of the Jedi, Field of Blades
Gear: Items in profile
Allies: [member="Darth Orcus"], [member="Haytham Kaze"]
Enemies: [member="Jericho"], [member="Solan Charr"], [member="Joza Perl"], [member="Connor Harrison"], [member="Alkor Centaris"]
Other: [member="Darth Nephthys"] (NPC)

Spoiler

Weapons
A pretty rifle - Lost on Ruusan
Stabbing thing
An artifact (hidden in the arm)
-Armor
Armor
Fabric cloak thing
Leather waist thing
-Other Stuff
Force Disperser
AI Wrist Blaster
Field Disruptor
Holographic Disguise Matrix
Melee Shield
VT-CERS Augmentation System

In a realm where the presentation of power presents the only worthy challenge, the spawning dead flocked to the White Haired master and his ilk, like moths to the flame. Unrepenting, forsaken, hungry: they crashed against the congregation like water against a jagged shore. Turned away, only to spawn once more, and return for more. One couldn't truly die in this arena of the dead. They could only be whittled away by the sharp resolve of constant conflict. Each feigned death chipped away at the true self, leaving only the unsated warrior behind.

Loray dropped from the pushing tide, a simple cobble let loose from the rip current. Coming to a sliding halt, a good distance away from [member="Jericho"] and those who battled amongst themselves, Loray was beset by a presence that drew some form of emotion from the boiling tempest of hate and malice, so quick to overwhelm him. Remembrance, power for the sake of achievement, and the fires curling over the Manarai Mountains.

​

​

She was steeped in power, despite her small frame, and was encompassed by the dying lights of obedience and sacrifice. The sort of death that left her haggard and ragged, like all the others, but with an expression that formed a shadow of once-righteous purpose. Death's crimson gripped etched serrated scars across her face, hued in an everlasting red glow, that seeped and radiated from her thin neck. A porcelain doll, once carelessly broken, and more carelessly put back together.

Loray wasn't sure why he paused in sight of this being, though he felt something resembling relation. As if he was remembering this from another life, or the life before that, and the pin pricks along his neck were trying with all their might to show him the way. But he couldn't seem to care as muscle memory lifted both weapons above his head to bring them down upon the small warrior.

Sith sword and tremor sword clashed against a barrier, formed effortlessly with an outstretched hand. The clatter of the weapons vibrated against the red shell, erected with but a moment's thought, and the scarlet slit of his visor angled down towards the auburn and black vision that returned a similar speechless expression. Pulling the blades back with a step back, he carved wedges against the lens, only to see them heal with electric lattices across the surface.

They were but an island in the sea of this slowly developing army of the dead. Spirits, regaling the smite they experienced in life, diverged around them on their path towards glory and combat. Swinging from the hip, Loray drew both swords against the shell only to experience the same reception. Crackling lightning spit arches from surface, sending sand to glass, as Loray once more stepped back and pressed the blades into the ground.

You...remind me of her.

Whether that was a compliment or an insult remained to be seen. And with all his remaining sanity, he intended neither. Simply an observation, one hearkening back to a time that preceded this life. He had felt the power of that being once before, in more intimate ways than most, and recalled the intrinsic feel of a conduit brought to life.

The Eye.

 

[Aithne Charr]

Obj: Time to Run.
Location: The Netherworld, The Field of Blades
Allies: [member="Joza Perl"]
Enemies: [member="Haytham Kaze"] (Feel free to catch up with us man, posting so that its clear we are getting out of there.)
Nearby: , [member="Darth Orcus"], [member="Jericho"] [member="Connor Harrison"], [member="Loray Tares"]
Equipment: 2x Lightsabers, 15x Vibrodaggers, Jung-jii Fiber Armor, belt with number of pouches for seeds


Solan saw the two sith and instantly know they were outmatched. Joza herself was in a place that if she continued to feel the surge of dark energy it would effect her in ways that could become irreversible, if he waited for them to fight off this army of Sith Spirits, this Herglic who's power was only going to grow stronger, they would only win through suffering and they themselves would probably lose a life. Then Jericho acted before Solan could, his body creating a shield and covering their escape. Solan's own hands shook for a few seconds before he watched the former Jedi act more quickly than Solan could even shift his body.

The best Solan could do was to stare as his hands reached and pulled out the bramble seeds from behind him, from his pouch and drop them on the ground. He poored into them the force to create a shield between himself and Orcus, to create a living shield for Orcus to drain from albeit a quickly fading one. His body had already started to react though as he tried to project the force into a shield behind him, into a wall as he pushed his form towards Joza. She was the target, she was the one that Jericho would kill him if she got hurt on his watch. "Time to move Red... Come on." He would almost drag her along as he started running, pushing over the desert like landscape to what he thought was the west, using what he remembered of that green sun's position from the time before. It would feel endless and for all he knew they could spend weeks out here.

His eyes turned back though, watching as his feet started moving over the ground with light steps. He was worried about Jericho, worried about the man who he was unsure for sure if he could escape too. He knew Jericho was stronger than himself, and possibly stronger than one of the sith alone, but two sith masters made him hesitate as he was trying to get Joza out of the line of fire. His feet faltered as he ran and for a second his entire being wanted to turn back and to get to Jericho's side to aid him. Solan's feet continued though.

He knew that getting out of this place was the most important thing in this moment. If they suffered wounds it would make things worse and worse for them. While they might be able to fight off the sith, one side would be forced to kill the other. Then forced to wander this place before finally dying from exhaustion and without food, or simply succumbing to the dangers of this place. They needed every ounce of strength they had left so as he ran a single message was sent to Jericho's mind from his own. "Hurry up with these Sith, don't need you dead Jericho..." His eyes focused forward as he was pushing Joza to run, if she couldn't he would be more or less dragging her while she was still on her feet.

He hated this place.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"Pick up a sword."

Nothing about the request came as unfamiliar. de Fortia had been known in life as a purveyor of bloodshed, conquest, and enslavement. His will made manifest subjugated those of all who he saw as beneath him, and as a Jen'jidai he came closer to Sith than perhaps any other of Alkor's brothers. Still, his malice was great and his command hot as it seared through the Netherworld. Alkor stared on at the Adumari Dark Jedi as he lifted his blade and stroked it gently across the Corellian's throat. "The first strike is filled with pain," Lahash explained. "And the one that follows. Everything about the experience is the same rush that came to you in life. By the time you are part of the battlefield forever, nothing will seem new to you."

"You need not go back to a world that is not yours, Alkor," Eversio spoke with a hand on his shoulder. The hot pain of broken bone flared again as Alkor winced from the touch. "Remain here with us forever. Return to the Dark Jedi as we once were. Become immortal like us. Take up your rightful place as a god, Brother." The man once vaunted as sovereign ruler of Muunilinst pulled violently on Alkor's shoulder and turned him so that they were face to face.

"Can you remember what we believed, Alkor? Do you recall the Vision that we strived toward? Does none of that mean anything to you?"

"It was a lie," Alkor muttered bitterly. "Reign said so, at the very end. He admitted the fallacy of it all, and he spoke of freedom in our true path. All of that, and he rammed a blade through himself-"

"A Dark Jedi does not believe in sacrifice for greater power," Plaga rumbled from behind him. "See for yourself. All that Reign ever was is dust. He was born Sith, and until the end, he bled Sith beliefs. We could not expunge them, even with our greatest of efforts. Reign was a powerful tool, and he led the Dark Jedi to their ultimate end. It was under his rule that we consumed one another."

"But it was that rule that ultimately compelled the truth from all of you," Alkor growled. The pain in his body was exquisite and horrible at once. Any normal man would have faded from consciousness beneath it. Alkor drank it in and focused it, which gave him the fortitude to drive onward in spite of it. "You knew that what was would not last. You turned on one another because you understood, intrinsically-"

"-that the nature of our kind is chaos. Freedom, the kind of Freedom that the Sith preach- is a lie. It is a fabrication, a subjective reality in which their will is imposed on others. The Freedom of the Sith is Tyranny." Eversio sounded almost bitter as he explained to Alkor the understanding that they had reached, just before death. "It was the same ideal that we ultimately imposed on Muunilinst, yet we had the audacity to call ourselves more than that."

"To rule is to be ruled," Alkor mocked drily.

"I never understood you, Centaris," Eversio stared hard into the eyes of his younger counterpart and strained to see something there. "In the face of power, with the promise of it, you never once felt tempted. We offered you knowledge and you chose pain. We offered you strength, and you looked only inward. We offered you the Force, yet you chose isolation. Among our Brothers, you were spurned for your insolence. We accepted you for the usefulness that you offered, but you never were like us. You could have ruled at my side, you could have stood among the greatest masters of the Order, but you opted for the life of a servant. What freedom is there in such a path?"

"Absolute freedom," Alkor replied. "That you cannot see as much is no fault of mine. It never was."

"Tell me of your freedom as we fight forever, then," Eversio sneered. His eyes narrowed and the phlegmatic expression of the Zealot returned. All curiosity drained from him as he lifted a sword from the dirt and pressed it firmly to Alkor's gut. "Tell me I am no better than the Sith now, Brother," he hissed. "Tell me."

"I do not need to," the Jen'jidai closed his eyes and accepted what would come next. Torment was no stranger to Alkor Centaris. "You already know it in your heart."

The blade pierced flesh and sinew, and blood spilled from the newly open wound. Crimson steam roiled from the wound, and Alkor felt lighter as part of himself drifted outward to the Nether. He reached for the weapon and pulled it deeper, then leaned forward so that his eyes were inches from the other Corellian. "Do you feel free, Walja Clibos?"

Eversio ripped the blade out and Alkor fell forward onto his knees, gasping involuntarily for air. "You are weak," the Dark Jedi Master mocked. "You kneel before me, victim to my will."

"A Dark Jedi does not need the validation of subordinates," Alkor smirked grimly as blood poured from his lips. "A Dark Jedi needs nothing, and no one. You have all these things you hold fast to, all these notions of godhood, and for what? Clibos," Alkor let out a low laugh as he fought once more to his feet. The laughter sounded perverse as it rumbled from the diminutive man, and he stepped closer to his one-time friend. "You are dead."

"What of it?"

Alkor ripped a blade from the ground beside him and held it up. His eyes moved over and examined it. The darkness of the Netherworld, the lure of the Field of Blades flowed through his wound and touched all of his broken parts. It unsteadily tried to remake him. Alkor resisted the compulsion to accept. He could see the fragmented forms of his former allies, and he refused to become their kin. Not ever again.

He cast the weapon aside, and the smiles on their faces turned to unsatisfied scowls.

"You can never be free of this."

Alkor took a step past them, even as they raised their blades to strike him. He strode beyond their reach, and they followed. But they followed from a distance, and their hearts and minds were not in the motions. "Master," Alkor called back, and the last of the three tilted his head. "What was that word? The Sith one?"

Plaga narrowed his eyes.

"Ja'ak."

Their blades crashed behind him, but Alkor did not look back.

Their anger howled in the Force.

Their grief bled out into the Netherworld.

Their fate refused to change.

 

[Joza Perl]

Location: Valley of the Jedi
Surrounding: [member="Haytham Kaze"]|[member="Solan Charr"]|[member="Jericho"]|[member="Darth Orcus"]|[member="Loray Tares"]|[member="Alkor Centaris"]
Objective: GTFO
Gear: Sasori Armor, Ranger Shotgun, AI Wrist Blaster, 1x standard Vibroblade

Everything happened all at once. Vanitas’ anger, Jericho’s anger, the strange ghastly forms of former Sith barreling towards them. As their blades struck out towards Jericho, Joza realized that they were not, in fact, an illusion. None of this was. It was all real. Right?

And then, her eyes landed on the great hulking form of Darth Orcus and her breath hitched in the back of her throat. The hollow smile he wore seemed uncongenial, yet it suited the Sith Lord in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on. So much for appearing the antithesis of a brute. The Zeltron had been closer to accepting the Herglic’s invitation to join the Triumvirate in their defense of the plant than she’d like to admit. However, if there was one thing that cemented into her frazzled mind that she did not want to lose herself to the dark side and become Sith, this was it. Monsters. It was all a lie. Wasn’t it? She shuddered, finding herself too terrified to move. Something about this place caused her stomach to drop in despair, and she wasn’t sure what would happen if the sickening malevolent energy continued to twist and turn around them like it did.

Had Solan not miraculously kept his head, Joza would have likely succumbed here. To the darkness, to Vanitas’ blade, to one of the many re-animated warriors. Everything was overwhelming to the point where she stumbled at first as the Master dragged her along, eventually regaining her footing. But before she did so, she turned towards Hayth…Vanitas. A stern mix of determination and desperation swirled in her eyes, and if he’d been looking he might have noticed the brief flash of concern in her bright yellow gaze.

This isn’t over.

Joza wasn’t sure if he’d get her telepathic message given the awkward state of their bond, or even what she exactly meant by it. The one thing she knew for sure is that she didn’t want Vanitas to perish in a place like this. Grabbing her shotgun from it's holster, she turned back towards Solan and continued their escape.