Junction The Final Countdown - AC/NIO/EE/GA/Enclave/BotM Junction of Dromund Kaas/Centares/Lutrilla/Aruza/Hypori/empty hex above Sposia

[Eina L'lerim-Vandiir]

Lady Eina L'lerim-Vandiir
The First and the Light of Ashla
Heiress and Princess of the Eternal Empire and Terraris; Angelic Mascot and Representative of the Ashlan Crusade
Eternal Empire's Ambassador to the Ashlan Crusade; Matriarch of the Valkyrja; Leader of Sanctuary and the Fjölkyngi Smiđr Guild​

Location: New Kaas City, Dromund Kaas
Objective I.: Save the Children
Equipment: Sverð Fyrstr (swords) | Ljósspjót (spear) | Skrúð Engill Fyrstr (armour) || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m || Current appearance
Writing With: Zachariel Steelblood | Closed
Allies: AC/EE/NIO/GA/Enclave | Heinrich Faust | Isla Draellix-Kobitana | Draco Miles | The Fool | Percival Io
Enemies: BotM | Open

[ War Music ]
<"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Eina was most likely very different from the ones Zachariel had talked to or fought with before. Not only because she spent too much time among the crusaders, and so she started using the same parlance as them. That is, she called the Light Side Ashla and the Dark Side Bogan. The Valkyrja was also special because she belonged to the Netherworld and not here among the living things. She spent her entire life, which was nearly three hundred years, at the Netherworld. Her "parents" were dead when she was born of their souls. She belonged there; she was only in this world because of her Ashlanic friends and her chosen, her beloved crusader, Geiseric.

Eina had seen worse creatures at home than the Avatars. She did not like such beings, and she listed Darth Voracitos here as well. But even among the beings who looked completely human, there were those who ate souls, even her father did the same while he was alive. In many ways, the Netherworld was a much more awful place than the world of the living. However, it is also much simpler. There’s typically everything black and white, but here? It all had countless nuances because of the diversity of emotions. Survival is important there, who is weak they become one with the Force, who is strong becomes a demon, or some other being, entity.

Eternal conflict, in combat most things are pure; at least Eina used to it. She thought the man was clearly insane based on the gen'dai's demeanour. She remembered for a moment if Ashla would give him another chance, too. For Eina, Ashla was the Light Side, if anything had to be said for it, but she knew that for the crusaders and the inhabitants of the Ashlan Imperium, the goddess was much more than that. But the Valkyrja was still not religious. However, after the man's next words, something turned out that Eina was very, very different from her mother's. Her purity and apparent naivety also stemmed from this. She literalised everything how someone said that.

"Little Ingrid?" she asked incomprehensibly. "I'm taller than my mother."

Ingrid, here would have made Zach a spicy remark here or flirted with him, Eina didn't.

"And my name is Eina, or the First, not Little Ingrid!" she stated. "And you probably don't know anything about how the Netherworld works or what it's like to exist there, fiend!"

The enemy didn't fly too far, but at least they stopped for a few moments. Eina wasn't bothered that she was being targeted and they wanted to attack her, she was usually fighting a much bigger force. And she didn't even use the Force. She was ready to unleash more forces, but the soldiers headed for the other defenders and Eina was left alone with the big piece of man. The man may have been bothered by how Valkyrja was thinking, but for the girl, the Avatars were not gods, just another predator, another demon from the Netherworld. Or entities like herself. Once Ashla is found, she probably won’t even consider her a goddess.

During the attack, she managed to cut and scratch the man's armour, although she failed to knock the helmet off his head. Eina didn't really understand the mockery, she hadn't seen anything like it many times during her existence. Everyone in Ashlan Crusade loved and was kind to her, and she didn’t talk to the evil demons back home in the war. After the attack, she stopped a few steps away and took an offensive stance. It was like Ingrid's. She didn't attack as the man continued to speak, but tilted her head slightly to the side.

"I may not understand the world of mortals, but I do understand my birthworld and my home. Better than anyone here. I understand and know the entities you love much better than you ever will be able to do so. They are not gods; gods do not exist." she said the same position Ingrid had said. Yes, she admitted in her words that she did not consider Ashla as a goddess either, although it was known in the Ashlan Imperium that she was not religious, yet it was thought that the goddess had chosen her.

She did not react to the mentions about inexperience and her age; Eina inherited her mother’s knowledge when she was born, and she too had three hundred years of experience. The Valkyrja trusted in her own fighting skills, not many times they let her down.

"I'm not that close to her…" she replied. "And I'd like for you to mention her as an Empress or Lady Ingrid. Respect is important, even among enemies." respect was also Ingrid's legacy.

When the man attacked, she sprang out of the attack, so now she was defending herself. Eina tried to avoid the blades, as the man was probably much stronger than she was. The angelic winged woman had to rely on her skill and experience. However, one of the attacks was forced to be blocked by the handle of the spear and the man's strength pushed her away by about two metres. Then she stopped and pointed the front of the spear at Zachariel. The upper part of the spear began to glow brighter as Eina began to concentrate. Ashla's color, because of Geiseric .

"I have no physical body, after my death I would disappear into nothingness. That's why you cannot take my head to her. I don't know how she would react if you killed me." she said; Eina was not really sure what would happen after her death, she said, what she had seen after other Valkyrja's death; and her mother was a good question. She wasn't sure.

However, by the end of her words, the golden light at the end of the spear had become even stronger, then she released her Force ability, allowed the Force Light to spread everywhere and cause pain to Dark Side Force Users and illuminate the area with its light and give hope that they know Ashla is with them today.

 

[Vulcan Krayt]

Objective I: Engage in a fight for Sith Ruins!
Location: Dromund Kass, Southern Pole
Equipment: Sword, M.I. Beskar'gam Mk.1 M.I. 'Sunstroke' jetpack M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol, M.I. Model 12 shatter rifle x2, Thermal Detonators, Magnetic Detonators, Perun's Call
Tag: Mairéad

Vulcan stalled slightly, she has a lightsaber, he was suddenly very grateful he has a set of proper Beskar'gam on him. But he was not expecting to be pushed back into the snow by the invisible hand of the force. The snow prevented any injury, but he did have to shake off any of it that stuck to him though.

Which now means, he had to beat her to the ruins, no problem he can do that, even if his feet were a little short to make decent strides, although he does have a jet pack at his disposal. He ignited it and hover ran, feet inches from the ground to keep up with Mairead, he knew when to think smarter rather than harder. With the worry of not being able to keep up figured out, he resumed fire on the woman.

Each of his shots was deflected away, but still, he refused to cease chasing her. The sound of ice hitting Beskar, rang like a bell and Vulcan swerved to the side, the shock of being hit rung in his ear. Fortunately, his head was intact and unharmed. Which gave him an idea, it was something he hasn't tried yet. Shai taught him well and he again wondered where she was, and he hoped she will be okay.

He scanned the now heavily snowed landscape for his quarry, he will get there first, he lifted off higher and persued from the sky, this way he can keep her in his sights and he can rain ordinance on her. Vulcan resumed firing his weapon at her. He will be using the flamethrower soon. No way is he going to let this go because he can set a beacon here and alert his Vod.

He will win and it will be worth it as he fought for victory.

 

[Draco Miles]

However, where he hardly moved, they were pushed a meter back before coming to a halt, and raising their weapons once more. A simple command from Zachariel had them shift targets however, focusing on other defenders.

Draco, one of those defenders and concealed by a massive drop pod, had a clear sight on the soldiers while they focused fire on Percival Io . She was behind them, practically next to the orphanage with how she had dropped with the other 3 vehicle pods

Firstly, she’d focus on a larger portion of the group. She’d grab one of the massive drop pod’s doors with the force then yank it, having it fly out to try and land on top of these Chosen soldiers to give a nice and confusing attack, most likely leaving them stunned and allowing her to get another sneak attack off.

She focuses on one, using the force to pick him up and shove him back, slamming him into his comrades before blasting them with force lightning.

Their armor would be their tomb, with how heavy it was, it had to be constructed out of metal, and therefore was very conductive to electricity. They’d fry in there and even get pushed back further just from how much power she was forcing in them, like Mace Windu getting his shit rocked by Palpatine.

Afterwards she’d relocate, pushing out of her own pod and using its massive door as cover so that she could get some fire focused on her. Crimson blade in hand, she hoped she didn’t garner the big bad’s attention for her being sith, and being so close to him, but she’d find out if he moved to her with how much energy he radiated in the dark side of the force. He didn’t even bother to conceal it, which immensely aided her in knowing where he was at all times. With enough gunfire on her position, she’d launch the door forward for it to fall onto the soldiers and leave her to use the force to launch herself out of there at blinding speeds to cover, where she’d plot out another assault… just in time to be slapped in the face with Force Light! She’d recoil back and try to conceal herself on both fronts, using rubble to construct a barrier between her and Eina. Thankfully she was here to help Eina L'lerim-Vandiir in her defense against Zachariel Steelblood , even if Eina was currently trying to accidentally kill her in her battle against Zach

 

[Erion Justeene]

​

Objective I: Found a fight, prepare for it.
Location: New Kaas City, Dromund Kaas
Equipment: Lightsaber, Voidsaber
Allies: BOTM, NIO
Enemies: AC/EE/GA/Enclave
Tags: Stone Gra'tua

​

Stone was living up to the reputation that all Mandos have, which consists of being ferocious warriors and skilled fighters. Well if Stone wasn't, the helmeted one's head would be in an alley by now in a puddle. Each swing was met with a block and parry, the sparks that flew from both Beskad and Saber sizzled in the dampness of the rain. He was satisfied at the mark his blade made, it may not have cut deep, but it sure left a mark to remember this.

Then, ripples in the force alerted Superious to a rocket aimed at his side, using the force he nudged it away from him, but in doing so the Ubese lost the offensive, thus he had to now recover defensively but all the while keeping his cards close to his chest, he needed to, as this was not as clean-cut as he first assumed it to be.

The rocket spun in a corkscrew and hit a large house behind them, the fireball that followed, ripped up tiles and stone and launched them into the air, causing the rain to mix with debris, caking the ground with mud, tile and furniture. Using his Lightsaber he cut a roof beam in half as it headed his way. Debris smashed into buildings around them and screams of Civilians added to the roar of the fire.

Just as he wanted it to be, Superious loved a challenge, so he went back on the offensive once more, closing distance, he chose a different strike this time, this time he aimed to swing right down in a straight line. If this wasn't sufficient he can get enough distance to add Force Lightning into the mix, to keep Stone on his booted toes. But that was not going to be deployed yet, as it could be quite a surprise when Superious unleashes it.

In his haste of wanting a good fight, he left several openings for Stone to exploit.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Dromund Kaas, Storm-Wracked Skies
Allies: Marlon Sularen
Foes: Tren Chaar | Mylo Thorne | Olly Piblarian | Leon Gallo | Delilah Jones | Jon Kovacs

Spoiler: TL;DR

• Six Thornwaves move to intercept Mylo Thorne
• Heathen Priests direct lightning to attack the B-Wings
• A squadron of Doomsayers also moves in to attack the B-Wings

The Mawites attacked with the same speed and terror as the flashing lightning.

Though none of their foes could hear the howls of "War! Death! Rebirth!" across the Brotherhood's comms, they must have imagined them, the infamous words ringing in their ears as Mawite starfighters dove out of the dark clouds and opened fire. Tu'teggacha's facial tentacles twisted into a disgusting Ebruchi approximation of a smile as the first Alliance transport went down, its shields shredded by Doomsayer ion fire before the Thornwaves chewed up its engines. That would be their only freebie, of course. The Taskmaster could sense that they faced Revenant Squadron, frequent and potent foes of the Maw.

Now that the element of surprise had been spent, things would get harder.

One of the Revenants, an A-Wing pilot, broke off to annihilate a lone Thornwave closing in on one of the transports. It was a clean kill... but it would leave him exposed, separated from the rest of his squadron. "Kill that one while it's isolated," Tu'teggacha demanded, pulsing out its coordinates to a full wing of six Thornwaves. When up against Alliances aces like these, he was perfectly willing to expend significant numbers of craft to kill a single one of them, or even just to hold them at bay. Any member of Revenant they killed was a significant victory, because it took the elite pilots out of the rest of the battle... and the war.

The six Thornwaves closed on Mylo Thorne, plasma cannons blazing.

Meanwhile, the B-Wings were coming in to attack the Mawite frigates. It was a good tactical move; they represented the largest source of Brotherhood firepower currently in play, their twenty ion cannons set to make short work of the shields and subsystems of the transports; if they weren't taken down hard and fast, they would leave the Alliance ships nothing more than depowered wrecks, hurdling toward the ground without functional engines. And B-Wings were craft well-suited to the task of keeping that from happening. They were designed to pick fights with capital ships; the armor of mere frigates was easy prey.

If the Mawites had brought Darkshear swarm fighters with them, they would have used them as shields against the incoming warheads, gladly sacrificing the bio-drones piloting them to save more valuable craft. But Darkshear squadrons had to be controlled by a Heathen Priest, and the Taskmaster needed all of the priests he'd had room to bring controlling the storm. So instead he wielded the lightning. It was not a power he could normally conjure, limited as he was to telepathy and the manipulation of minds, but he was now the thirteenth of this Heathen Ritual Conclave. He could direct their power at his own whim.

Electrical discharges gathered, then lashed out. The long, forked tongues of blue-white energy slammed into warheads, then kept going to strike at the oncoming B-Wings, trying to overload their systems - and even slap them aside or break them apart with kinetic impact. Tu'eggacha could not intercept everything, of course. No small number of the attackers' warheads slipped through his sorcerous grid, detonating against the hulls of the Mawite frigates... and where they did, bulkheads exploded outward in fountains of debris and corpses, and entire decks collapsed. These were powerful fighters indeed.

"Stop them!" the Taskmaster hissed, and a squadron of Doomsayers broke off their attack on the transports to try to intercept the B-Wings. Their trio of ion cannons - both forward and rear facing - blazed away, trying to soften the Alliance fighters up. Then the concussion missiles launched. The Doomsayers could never have caught something as swift as an A-Wing with such weapons, but the B-Wings were slower, and had a far larger profile. It was a battle of the fighter-bombers, two rival designs, two rival sets of pilots... and though the Revenants might be the more skilled, the Maw had the Dark Side to call upon.

Of course, if the nearby NIO forces got involved, all would shift once again...

As Tu'teggacha directed the battle, sweat beading on his rubbery brow and power surging through his knobby fingers, a new alert chimed on his shuttle's control console. As predicted, Marlon Sularen had arrived with his Task Force Vader, willing to do what the Taskmaster would not: risk Mawite capital ships on a battle so far from their territory. Well, the Ebruchi wished him all the best with that. If he did great harm to their foes in his little grudge match, that was excellent. If he and his Final Dawn were weakened in the process, even better. If that Mawite subfaction ever rose high enough to take control, it would be a disaster for Tu'teggacha.

Their neo-Imperial ideology, based on absolute order, had no place for slave-soldier marauders.

Or the sadistic Ebruchi Taskmaster who created them.

 

[Stone Gra'tua]

Objective 1 : Hunt Sith
Location : Dromund Kaas, New Kaas City
Equipment : Signature/Profile
ALLIES | NIO | AC | TE DECEASED Erskine Barran Nukth Kelga'an Annor E-059 Hoken Stryte The Fool Pietro Demici Don Belkora Jerec Yularen Siv Dragr Mira Athrani Morrow Heinrich Faust Djorn Bline Thonn Rokkal Julian Qar Vulcan Krayt
ENEMIES | TSE | BotM | Keilara Kala'myr Rowena Percival Io @The Mongrel Kyrel Ren Zachariel Steelblood |
Engaging : Erion Justeene

​

The rain seemed to fall between the combatants in slow motion, surrounding them in a shower of slow moving droplets that fizzed and hissed against the Sith's glowing blade as he fought the Shi'ido Mando'ad at close quarters, on a rooftop backlit by the explosions and flashes of lightning illuminating the war zone of New Kaas City around them. No more words were exchanged, as the fight moved as fast as the electrical discharges coming down from the atmosphere.

Stone's rocket was deflected by Superious' nudge with the Force, forcing him to react where a punch may not have, and giving the Mandalorian a slight momentary edge. Ignoring the blast, Stone ignored the strike where Superious slashed through a roof beam, using that moment to dig into his bag of toys, firing a whipcord at the Sith's legs, aiming to tangle his ankles, or at least force him to remain on the defensive, and allow Stone to close for a killing blow.

If the whipcord caught Stone's opponent just right, a movement forward would end in disaster, as the Mando'ad was ready with the beskad blade, ready to strike down hard like a hammer into the Sith's back, ideally at the neck to end the fight. If the Sith reacted to the whipcord in time, the beskad was still ready to strike, which Stone aimed to either make Superious backtrack and risk his footing, or block the blade; leaving him open to a quick burst from the flame projector.

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Dromund Kaas, above Kaas City
Allies: Keilara Kala'myr | Rowena | Blade Ice | Zachariel Steelblood | Kyrel Ren
Foes: DECEASED Erskine Barran | Pietro Demici | Baron Reinhardt Ström | Jerec Yularen | Shai Maji | Sephi Karneh

Spoiler: TL;DR

• The Mongrel decides to target Baron Ström as a result of Mercy's report
• His transports are damaged by AA fire, and he circles around to approach from the northern jungles
• He deploys Deathgang swoop riders to target the enemy buggy scouts
  • The swift swoops have snipers to kill the pilots of the open-cockpit buggies
  • They also have energy lances and anti-vehicle grenades to attack the buggies themselves
• Under airburst artillery fire, he deploys the other Mawite vehicles as swiftly as possible

The Mongrel waited patiently for Mercy's report, knowing that the intelligence it contained would decide the disposition of his limited forces. If he'd had the army he'd wielded on Csilla at his disposal, he would have swept across the city in its entirety, looting and burning, leveling it to its foundations and burying all the fools within it. But war was not so kind as that. It was a grinding, gnawing thing, consuming mindlessly and endlessly. Where once he had commanded hordes, now he made do with leaner forces, the veterans who had survived.

He couldn't fight everyone at once anymore.

As ever, Mercy reported back swiftly. It struck him sometimes just how different her gifts were from his own. He was a blunt instrument, a warrior forged and honed on the front lines, a man who had risen above all other slave-soldiers simply by his dogged refusal to die. Mercy was no blunt instrument. She was a scalpel, slipping into the flesh of the foe so quickly and cleanly they hardly knew she was there, even as she bled them dry. He had known she was special when she'd nearly killed him in his own command area back on Carlac...

... but he had not begun to guess quite how special.

Or how dangerous, to everyone. "Mercy" wasn't even her true self, just a dark alternate personality forged through torment, then released by the Taskmaster. He had never broken Ziare, no matter how he tortured her, only dragged her under the waters of her mind so that Mercy could take control. It was an unstable arrangement; Mercy herself had admitted it to him, had admitted that sometimes Ziare took back control and aided the NIO against the Maw. It was a colossal tactical and intelligence risk to rely on her as he did, to even let her live.

So why did he? Why did he continue to take this risk?

It was an error in judgement, a taint on his usually pragmatic reason, and he could find no logical explanation for it. Yet he would not let himself think logically when it came to her. Perhaps it was because they were so alike, both broken in such similar ways. He had known a life before the Maw too, a life that sometimes reared up in his thoughts, shards of memory cutting into his psyche like broken glass. He had never shown anyone mercy before, never spared anyone else who might prove to be a threat to him. And yet the one named Mercy...

... she was the one he could not bring himself to kill.

He was becoming distracted again. The Mongrel shoved down his thoughts, his desires, and listened to her report. As expected, their foes were many; it was why they had come, to seize the chance to kill numerous enemies in a single stroke. The warlord found himself wishing they had another Sonic MOAB to drop on the city, murdering its occupants all at once by a means difficult to defend against, but that had been a unique weapon. The galaxy would probably never see anything quite like it again, not after the difficulty of building it.

It was no surprise that Barran was here in person, in the thick of the fighting. Evidently he had fully recovered from his wounds on Nirauan... which was bad news for the Maw, as he was among the most gifted commanders they had ever faced, but good news for The Mongrel. He still had a score to settle with the old general, a rivalry that ran all the way back to Csilla and his first meeting with Aron Gowrie. It was a contest that could only be ended when one of them lay dead by the other's hand, the final victor after long years of war.

At first, it seemed that perhaps the day was right to finish that fight. Let Khamul Kryze and his mad Mandalorians handle the Enclave, spilling blood over the future of a warrior culture that meant nothing to The Mongrel; the NIO was clearly the priority target out of the bunch, as the Ashlans were on the far side of the galaxy from the ever-growing Mawite domain. But then Mercy mentioned something interesting about the Eternal Empire garrison. Their number four commander out of the entire Empire was present at that northern camp.

And the Eternals were perhaps the next great threat.

"Very good, Mercy," The Mongrel replied, making his decision. "Yes, keep the Taskmaster appraised of any developments. Monitor all communications and troop movements, and inform me immediately of any new threats." He could order her to do something more aggressive, of course. He knew she was capable of it; she had led his forces on Jedha while he was occupied battling the Jedi, and had done it well. But some part of him, some un-strategic piece of his mind more full of desire and reason, wanted her to stay there.

To hear her voice, and to keep her out of the line of fire.

Then something happened that confirmed exactly where he wanted to go: the Eternal Empire's anti-aircraft batteries started up. The Mawite dropships rocked and bucked as their shields and armor strained to withstand the assault. Several of the smaller landers and their escorts went down early on, ripped apart by the Viper emplacements. "Break off," The Mongrel ordered his pilots. "Climb to low atmosphere and circle around that position, then find us a landing zone. We will come at them from the northern jungles."

The storm that Tu'teggacha commanded became their shield.

Transports set down, and the Mawite vehicles and veterans swiftly disembarked, the shadows of tall, twisted trees looming over even the tallest walkers. It was vital to approach from this direction, even though the Eternal rear guard - two full battalions and an armored division - was surely just as strong as the front-facing forces being dispatched into the city. The reason was simple: the thick, craggy jungle provided tree cover and uneven, hilly terrain that would camouflage their movements and reduce the effectiveness of artillery.

Especially against air-burst artillery, heavy branches blocking shrapnel.

Still, as the Mawites began to form up amid the jungle, the roar of engines alerted them that they were not alone; Eternal Empire scout buggies were already searching them out, trawling through the trees in search of positional data to report to the big guns up on the hill. When The Mongrel actually caught sight of one of the buggies through his macrobinocular-enhanced vision, however, a dark, mechanical chuckle rippled up through his chassis. "Fully exposed cockpits?" he boomed, amused. "What little value they place on men's lives."

A metal-taloned hand rose in a gesture of command. "Send in the Deathgangs! Kill those buggy drivers. We will blind the enemy and counter-scout them." At his order, swoop bikes roared into action. It had been some time since the Mawite Deathgangs - vicious bands of swoop gangers turned fanatical marauders - had been sent into action in a real battle, and the gangers were more than ready. Hopped up on combat adrenals and boredom, they howled and whooped as they streaked out into the jungle, rushing between trees.

Deathgang riders were equipped with a number of weapons that would be exceptionally deadly to the open-cockpit buggies. The first were sniper rifles; while no one was skilled enough to fire from a moving swoop, they could swiftly race to good sniping positions and open fire on the unprotected drivers. Other gangers carried energy lances and anti-vehicle grenades, weapons to cripple the buggies themselves... or obliterate them entirely. And without the friction of wheels to slow them down, the swoops could catch these scouts.

A pair of airburst shells detonated almost directly above The Mongrel's landing zone, jerking him from his tactical musings. Shrapnel and fire rained down on the clearing, ripping through marauders and embedding itself deep into vehicle armor, setting even the rain-slick trees briefly alight before the flames were quenched again. In the wake of the barrage, screaming slave-soldiers lay scattered on the ground, bleeding and broken. Such was war. They would suffer pain now, but their martyrdom would carry them to the gates of paradise.

Still, it was a reminder that - despite the cover of the trees and the danger to the enemy scouts - they were under long-range siege here. They needed to get everything deployed before that bombardment softened up their forces too much. "Get the walkers and skiffs underway!" The Mongrel barked, frustrated by any delay. If they were to succeed in this decapitating strike, they would have to move swiftly and decisively in their advance. Mobility would be their great advantage... but only if they could actually start getting mobile.

 

[Mylo Thorne]

​

LOCATION: DROMUND KAAS AIRSPACE
MISSION: SURVIVE
CALLSIGN: REVENANT ELEVEN
EQUIPMENT: REC-AI01 A-Wing Interceptor
REVENANT SQUADRON: LEADER - Tren Chaar TWO - Olly Piblarian SEVEN - Leon Gallo
OTHER ALLIES:
Isla Draellix-Kobitana Jon Kovacs Delilah Jones
ENEMIES: Tu'teggacha

​

Mylo was still reveling in his kill when the bleeps started. He checked his scope which had recovered to a point where he could use it, albeit with some difficulty. One blip. Headed straight for him, his early warning system started up and grew in intensity as a long bleep accompanied by a flashing red light proved to be distracting. Two blips, three, four, five, six. The eyes of the Humbariner pilot widened in increasing horror as he realised that considering his relative positioning.

He didn't have much time to think about it before a blast from a Brotherhood plasma cannon made him hit his head on the side of his cockpit. His cantankerous helmet saved his skull, though he felt slightly dizzy. Then Dromund Kaas began to spin. The flashes of lighting above him began to recede, though he could still hear their fury as the ground began to become visible above his cockpit as he made the realisation that he was in spinout.

"Ohhhhh HOLY SITH." Immeadiately he became thankful for the much maligned intertial compensator which only just kept him from blacking out. Pulling on the stick, he tried desperately to maintain some sort of control as the stick now pinned him firmly in his seat, unable to move or do anything. As he watched the blips on his scope get closer and closer. Mylo's head felt sticky as he began to sweat and exhale heavily. Then he remembered. Back at the Academy. He'd failed one of his mid-terms and a particularly nasty instructor had dismissed his ability to become a pilot. Characterised him as just a spawn of his holostar parents. Where was that will now?

"No, no, this is not where it ends..." He said to defiantly to no-one as he continued to spin out, the crack of lightning and thunder all around him. Summoning all of his strength, he clawed the stick off him, reaching down to the side to try and get his manuevering jets to try and stop the spinout. He wasn't sure if the intertial compensator was wearing off. Then, just as he was about to lose all hope. The A-Wing halted. "Thank the Force.."

Time to show some Brotherhood berserkers what he was all about. He took a hand to the throttle and throttled up rapidly to eighty percent, keeping the hand on before pulling the stick from starboard and round to port. The ship rumbled to life as he accelerated before he loop-rolled off to point three to put some space between what he recognised as Thornwave fighters.

They were quite well defended and good in numbers, but could not even attempt to match up with the speed of an A-Wing. And he would use that to his advantage. The first fighter was in range for at least a snapshot, and so Mylo throttled up to a further eight-six percent. Accelerating just enough to keep some distance between the Thornwaves but enough to pounce when he needed to. His first attacker pulled up into a roll, the others close behind as he juked off to the left and jinked off to the right watching plasma-fire fly past him.

He was going to scissor the fighter. Mylo palmed the stick to port, breaking hard and reversing to make his attacker overshoot. Peering out, he noticed that the other fighters had caught on and were moving to possibly try and give him the slip. Help was needed. Mylo changed the channel to all the allied starfighters on TAC-5.

"This is Revenant Eleven, I've got about six marks, hot on my tail, in need of assistance."

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

3rd post
THE FINAL COUNTDOWN
Objective 1: Once More Unto The Breach
The_Woad
IMPAF-Command

313th Stormtrooper Legion,"Sabretooth Legion"

NIO: Jon Kovacs Delilah Jones Shai Maji Julian Qar Morrow
The Fool Keilara Kala'myr Don Belkora Annor E-059 Hoken Stryte
Bex Tarring Jerec Yularen

Allies: Vulcan Krayt Ingrid L'lerim Eina L'lerim-Vandiir Pietro Demici
Baron Reinhardt Ström Stone Gra'tua Siv Dragr Iris Arani Mira Athrani

Enemies: The Mongrel Rowena Percival Io Erion Justeene Zachariel Steelblood
Kyrel Ren Blade Ice

ERSKINE'S LOADOUT
Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore
Fragarach Model Heavy Disruptor-Pistol
Sentimental-Value Fairbairn Vibroknife
Beskar Knuckledusters
Erskine's New arm

THE LAST DANCE: BARRAN'S FAREWELL TO THE SITH EMPIRE - PART 4

Historical District, Kaas City,
Dromund Kaas (870 ABY)

: :"General Barran, guess who's here! I got a bit of a matter to discuss with you over the fight with the Mongrel, but that can wait. If you need assistance from the Enclave, let us know.": :

Private correspondence, smart on this occasion. Smartly picked up on by the Stormchaser also.

Oh, how disappointed she'll be when she learns the Lord-General is a war-criminal.​

Thinking on his response as he finally reached into his coat-pocket for whiskey instead of cigarettes, Lord Erskine smirked in the realisation that Shai's hands would've been tied by the Enclave's many moral quandaries that laced the movement's many teething-pains at that moment, moral-quandaries that were otherwise non-existent in the sons and daughters of the Krayt clan - and especially not in mind, heart and soul of Shai herself. In this realisation, Barran made a,"Mission Statement: Cunning.", decision to himself, to offer Krayt her chance to join in the war-crimes after her Enclave duties had been fulfilled. The humanitarian behaviours towards the Sith-holdouts would evaporate before long, this the Lord-General knew of the Enclave already, for he knew that time alone would allow their ethnocentric-behaviours and traits to shine through eventually, time that once had its way with the Goidels and changed them forever.

: :"Before I begin, I'd first like to apologise.... I should not have been so casual in my choice of champion - I should've been pertinent enough to have prepared you for the Mongrel beforehand. Not for the man himself, but for the anomaly you faced instead. I am in fact open to discussing this matter further, and my door will always be open to you on that matter. This I promise you now, Shai. You've earned as much an' more.": :​

Lord Erskine couldn't help but dwell on the sheer scale of the proverbial mountain she had to climb, and in that moment, standing in a doorway and using it's arch to stay out of the rain as his thoughts moved on to Shai, the Woad understood the Mandalorian's resolve. Eventually drinking his first dram of the day, the Lord-General would savour the taste in sighing silence before screwing the top again and putting it back in the pocket it was resting in before, looking around him in the effort not to be overheard in the continuation of his reply. Barran was more than willing to cut the champion a break, knowing they had every intention of proving her worth as a warrior of the famed 501st, feeling it for himself in the moment Lord Erskine lent his sword to Shai in their previous battle against the Maw. The Enclave's need to rescue children would fall upon deaf ears all around him, but the Lord-General remained faithful in Krayt's natural urge to return to Mandalorian tradition, the natural proclivity to kill absolutely everything standing in their way.

: :"But you best warn your subordinates against any further humanitarian efforts beyond those you're currently being bogged down with.... I understand, Shai. But just know this - every last one of those children are going to slit your throats as you sleep soundly tonight, using your clean conscience against you at the first viable opportunity. Sorry you had t'hear it from me, but you best clap them in irons if you wish to fight another day an' keep your Mandalorian superiors happy at the same time.": :​

A harsh reality of the war on the Sith, the early indoctrination of their children, continuing it long after adolescence; nobody was welcome here, and Kaas City wanted nothing more than to flay the flesh from the bones of every last oppressor who walked their beloved streets that day. To hope for solidarity for dragging them from the only lives they ever knew, wishing for handshakes across the wire, all of it was pointless by then, and Erskine could only pray that Shai agreed. It would not be easy for the Imperial Mandalorians going forward, it was never fated or stated that it ever would be for them, and that sort of tightrope was one that clans Barran and Gowrie were all too acutely aware of, one such that the Goidels had only just made their peace to escape from. Lighting another cigarette as the raindrops relentlessly slapped off the cobbles of the street beyond, the Woad would let his intuition take the wheel as he took his first couple draws, letting Shai do the orderly, lawful tasks with the opportunity to wipe out anything else the Mandalorians encountered afterwards.

: :"But enough o' that, nae need for a grillin' if ye can meet both obligations in the same day. Your presence will be needed in the Historical District when yer done.... I have plans to turn this place into the greatest moshpit this Galaxy's ever witnessed - an' it wouldn't be right without the Mandalorians chippin' in now, would it?": :​

Revealing his real plan before even saying as much to his own subordinates, but Krayt wasn't one for the intrigue or the cloak-and-dagger antics, this Erskine could also feel when he lent Shai the claymore for her duel. The silence on the other end, the sheer lack of interruption on the other end, though others would've felt ill at ease by it, the Stormchaser knew it was because Krayt was listening intently, hanging on his every word as Lord Erskine spoke with a candour that none in Shai's position would expect of him. He was on the very verge of proving his love for the fight itself, but Barran still felt like the Mandalorians deserved to know what sort of man they'd been working with until that point, for what use is a great personality if one knows nothing about the man behind the voice, the sword and the aura emanating from him? What use is a great hero if none hear or witness the fuelling catalysts of their admiration and respect?

Absolutely none, and especially none to those who would tell of Goidelic exploits for decades, perhaps even centuries if Lord Erskine truly found his way in the Galaxy.

: :"Its all about adhering to law and tradition today, Krayt, an' I'm sorry that war-crimes had to be a part of it.... I never wanted to be here, but obligations dictate,"A veteran of the Third Imperial Civil War leads the action." - doesn't stop us from having a little fun along the way though. Lance One out!": :​

'So be it, Barran. No amount o' moping is going to change that.'

On yer feet, auld-yin. The Sith-scum won't exterminate themselves after all.

THE LAST DANCE: BARRAN'S FAREWELL TO THE SITH EMPIRE - PART 5

Historical District, Kaas City,
Dromund Kaas (870 ABY)

<"Barran to Rausgeber! Been a while, hasn't it? Do be a gem and send me some o' yer meanest mugs.... Your problem elements onboard, anyone spoiling for a good scrap essentially, I can use them down here - I have a plan.">​

The IMPAF-knights would overhear this as he walked through the rain towards their ACV, the first one Erskine had stepped into since 867 ABY, and in seeing the slide-door opened on it's left side like that, warm memories of simpler times on Archais sprang to mind, momentarily replacing the rain with the summer sun over Hirkenburg but flashing back to the rainy thunderstorms of Kaas City almost as soon as the vision manifested in his mind. 'Might as well see what sort o' brawn is nurtured on Prefsbelt IV, eh?', Lord Erskine started, stopping to pull the slide-door shut behind him and seek out the map-holographic plinth soon after. Finding Sir Martin sitting on one of the seats on one of the viewing-benches, Erskine continued,'I'm just going off their air-power and such, as I know next to nothing about their infantry-fighting capabilities. Just assuming they keep all their soldiers in their ships in case of boarding-actions and the likes, so I'm genuinely just chancin' it here.', as he slipped into what had been his own window-side seat, settling in opposite the Lieutenant with more leg-room than was offered in his old,"Saga".

'Prefsbelt system doesn't fuck around, sir. Not in the air, not at close-altitude - so I reckon we'd be dumb to think they were slouches on the ground for any reason.... Good idea, but do tell me; what is this plan you speak of?'

Erskine had to stop turning the display into a top-down to keep from breaking something, as he was descending into a laughing-fit that he couldn't control, as the sheer sharpness of Wyll's hearing seemed rather uncharacteristic due to the fact Sir Martin's ears weren't even large enough to support the superstitious thoughts on his hearing in the first place. Wyll then reached out to finish what Barran was laughing too hard to achieve, calmly awaiting the Lord-General's response as he began pinpointing the locations of all the Imperials in the area, though the Lieutenant wouldn't need to wait for long - Lord Erskine was more eager to divulge his plan than he was to laugh at his subordinate in that moment. Pulling his viewport down and pointing outside, the Stormchaser simply drawled,'Putting it simply, I want to destroy this place in a way that none would expect.... By starting a melee gang-fight - against the Maw.', before turning to the others to gauge their reactions also, seeing the surprise in Wyll's eyes already as his gaze turned away.

<"Barran to Yularen! Send me the meanest Anaxsi you've got.... You owe me for Vjun, so I want you to honour your obligation to the Woad - by sending all your toughest bruisers to my exact location. Lance One out!">​

'Bloody Hell, sir. You're no actually serious about this, are ye? Ah'm game, so's ay'body else bih't! But this doesn't seem very well-planned.... Or is that the point?'

Erupting into laughter again, and once again noticing that he was the only one doing so, Lord Erskine would stop it quickly again but on account of a change in mood this time; turning towards the sound of Lord Carwood's voice, finding him sitting by the turret-ladder with his posture turned towards Erskine, poised in anticipation of his response, though the stone-faced glare McGechin saw had him recoiling with eyebrow raised. Then the glare changed into one that almost chided his Woad-born friend for not being able to see the plan's worth, for not having the foresight or the spatial-awareness needed to see that the slim, winding city streets would present too many conventional challenges for the troop-numbers they were fielding on that occasion. The world would never be ready for either the Imperium or the Maw, nor would it ever be ready for Jedi of senatorial or Ashlan loyalties for that matter, but the fact remained that their actions that day would slash a bloody stain across the Sith's last great city - marring whatever Sith-loyalist,"Beauty" had been perceived of it before with nought but slaughter, war-crimes and ultraviolence.

'I want blood-spattered walls in the streets, slit throats, eviscerated remains lying all over Kaas city's Historical District.... An' I want our blades to bathe in the sanguine of our enemies, dancing in red - every step o' the way!'

<"All Imperials, all Mandalorians - this is Barran! Make your way to the Southern Historical District, it is time we riot together.... Fix bayonets, draw blades, and bring out your knuckledusters! IT IS TIME TO PAINT THESE STREETS WITH MAWSWORN BLOOD!!!! UP-CLOSE AN' PERSONAL!!!! THE TRUEST ULTRAVIOLENCE YOU WILL EVER KNOW!!!! Lance One out">​

Like a gunshot in the dark, the sheer shock of what they were hearing seemed too unreal to the crewmen and the IMPAF-Knights around him, stepping out from their stations or passenger-seats just to be sure it was in fact a coherent Erskine Barran behaving in this manner; but in seeing how focused he appeared, it became obvious to the Lord-General's knights that there would be no means of accusing him of losing his mind, no means of backing out from what appeared to be the Stormchaser's wildest, most unpredictable idea yet. The Lord-General would then slide out from the holographic top-down to make himself easier for the others to see and scrutinise accordingly, standing proudly as the others steadily stepped up to gather and bear witness to what seemed to be Lord Erskine's next mental breakdown, only to find him staring back defiantly - smirking with wide-eyed, goading disdain for their collective disbelief.

'Its now or never, lads. An' if anyone stands in our way - they're aw gettin' jumped! THEY'RE AW GETTIN' THEIR JAWS RIPPED!!!!! UNDERSTAND?!?!?!?!'

<"Lance One, this is Grey. We're in the skies ready...on your mark. Over.">​

 

[Aeric Kaze]

KAAS
ALLIES: /
ENEMIES: All
NOTICE: Dagon Kaze​

Blind, deaf, and dumb.

That's what someone would have to be to not see this day coming.

The most hated enemy in the galaxy... The outcome for Dromund Kaas was inevitable, slaughter, chaos, retribution. A simplistic goal it was, the bonding need to eradicate the Sith from this corner of the Galaxy. And Aeric's needs were not so different. The only difference was their scale was on a much more personal level.

The homestead that he had found - that he had been called to - was not much bigger than the one he had grown up in. It was familiar in a way that he could not explain, despite barely being able to recall what his own childhood home looked like. What the shared room with his own twin resembled, what was in it that characterized them as different. Doesn't matter. The thought crossed his mind when he had first found the Kaze Homestead, and it was the same one that crossed his mind now.

Fire and smoke reached to the heavens in the distance. Much too far to see with the naked eye, but he could see.

Felt it.

His gaze turned from the skies, and back to the grounds around him.

The plains were wrecked. Aside from the overgrowth of the vegetation, the ground was marred by the passing of immense creatures. The thickness of tibanna was on the air, impact marks where baradium charged grenades had exploded and tore the earth apart. Mangled limbs and bodies of invaders dotted the area.

And the house that sat there remained untouched. Old, and unmaintained for decades, it's decrepit state was unmolested by the collaterals of battle. Sat on its steps, its dark defender, clad in a shroud of black robes that obscured the figure's identity. Limbs hidden in the flowing robes' fabrics, he waited.

He's scared of-
No.
-what you've become.
He's a warrior. It will-
-Weak.
- a necessary end.
Kill.

Without question.

Come and see.​

 

[Kovacs]

LIGHTNING STRIKES TWICE
SKY GUARDIAN: EMERGENCE vol. I
Issue #5

TIE-Outlander

Bravo Flight, Dagger Squadron, 181st Fighter Wing Five: LT Jon Kovacs Six: LT Delilah Jones Seven: LOA Eight: LT Aayla Hughes Revenant Squadron Leader: CDR Tren Chaar Two: FLT Olly Piblarian Seven: FO Leon Gallo Eleven: FO Mylo Thorne Ashlan Crusade Isla Draellix-Kobitana The Maw Tu'teggacha Spoiler: Summary -Arriving from higher altitude, intercepting Maw fighters -Get in the way of Tren and Co's firing range to disrupt their bombing run because ISB is a douche. -Banter -Smut later?

Commander Harkas' eyes constantly drifted to a side panel in the wall where his favorite Corellian was stored. That was an exercise in itself. With ISB aboard the ship, trouble was only one wrong glance away.

"Commander, should we further decrease by a few degrees the climate unit? Surely sweating so much isn't healthy." Agent Syko's shrill voice came up from behind him.

"N-n--" he cleared his throat, tugging at his collar. "No, thank you." He'd lost a dozen pounds over the last month and gained another grey streak of hair thanks to Bravo Flight's disasters. And yet, the uniform never felt tighter than now. So close, he was so close to his retiring promotion - a captain position of a patrol vessel in the Kanz sector. Nothing kanz go wrong on Kanz was the saying. One of the few remaining calm, easy living routes to retirement.

Instead, everything had gone wrong when Bravo Flight got wrecked during the Civil War and Navcom went desperate, shoving young idiots like Jon Kovacs on flight lead positions.

"Would you mind telling me then, Commander, why is Bravo diverging from the Alliance's vector?"

"The Alliance's vessels have been ambushed by the forces of the cultists, Sir--"

"And?" Syko moved up to face the older man. He looked no different than a vulture. "They will continue with their mission as instructed."

"But the transport has to be escorted to the legion--"

"Then divert Alpha for that. Bravo's primary objective is provoking and disrupting the Alliance. Are you catching cold feet, Commander? Were you not the one that directly sent his after-action report from Csaus to the Bureau."

Harkas swallowed his tongue, "But--"

"No buts, Commander. The Empire is the supreme force of the galaxy. It does not reward mediocrity, let alone failure. It culls those incapable of protecting it... do I need to remind you the consequences of refusing to abide by the Bureau's orders?"

"No... Sir."

"Good."

And at that moment Harkas knew he should've listened to his wife. But the damn booze and these damn kids. He wanted to teach them a lesson, just like Syko was teaching him one now.

:: There's no way I'm sticking my flight's head in that shithole of a storm, Commander! ::

:: You will do as I command you, Lieutenant Kovacs, or you will face the tribunal before the sun sets on Kaas. Alpha is at full throttle on your tail, they will be with the hauler in five, now adjust! ::

Piece of shit.

Jon shut the channel off, then opened the flight's, :: You heard the old fuck. Adjust flight paths to intercept. We've got the altitude, move on these Maw freaks through the B-wing's firing range. ISB wants a show. :: his teeth were singing, grinding against each other in frustration. Del's itch was sent back at the furthest corners of his mind.

A few buttons were tapped and the sensor suite's interface took the larger part of his helmet's HUD.

:: Huh? Well, well, well... would you look at this? That's the Revenant boys' signature. Don't know if Hughes was around, but Del you'd remember - we flew with these pantsies in the civil war, right about when we graduated. :: before some lunatic had decided to give him the flight lead role. :: As much as I hate this suicide track the Bureau creeps got us on - saving the orange scrubs always brings a smile on my face, won't lie. ::

:: ... so let's fucking go. ::

He pulled the stick portside, sending the TIE down into the black tempest in lower atmo. His training officer would've had his head. One of the first lessons in the Academy was never fly into a shit situation of your own volition. The weather class was more brainwashy than COMPNOR, and here they were - flying straight into a storm that looked anything but natural. The sensors were going down the drain, flickering before his eyes and having him minimize the interface.

:: Goes without saying but - stick to visuals only. Stick close and watch each other's sides. :: it was all about communication in such situations. You are your wingmates' eyes and they are yours. Stormies often mocked their pilot counterparts that neither had each other's backs since that was a task relegated to Powerslave, the droid brain stuck in a jar inside the TIE.

The Daggers came from above, raining fire on the Alliance's tails, then leveling their altitude right in the trajectory of the B-wings firing range.

:: Now, repeat after me, Revenant - Thank the Emperor for saving my life... again! :: grinning beneath the helmet, Jon took a verbal shot through the open channels at the Alliance jockeys.

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

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

Objective I.: Doing her job and follow the warlord's commands.
Location: New Kaas City, Dromund Kaas
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Omega Phase Assault Rifle | 2x PV-16 "Sunfury" Pulse Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger || Stealth field generator || OPBC-01m
Writing With: The Mongrel | Tu'teggacha | Open
Allies: BotM/NIO | Rowena | Open
Enemies: AC/EE/GA/Enclave

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

As I looked at the report and the data, I was able to gain complete control over the satellites I mentioned moments earlier. It felt like they had been left there in a hurry and didn’t even care that someone would use them in the future. Although, so I had the right codes for it, it made things even simpler. I loved working efficiently when I had time for a lot of things, and I didn’t have to worry about our teams suffering a big defeat because of it. Especially that probably not our entire army came here. This was too far from our usual area.

<< Copy that! >> I replied to his commands. << And warlord… >>

It inadvertently slipped out of my lips; I didn't want to continue. I swallowed nervously, hesitating again for a few moments to see how direct I could be or not. But after all, we lived once and Ziare was the coward, not me. What can happen? At best, he continues the game, at worst, he says I need to stop. I didn't really have anything to lose. I bit my lower lip for a moment. One more or two seconds of hesitation before I was finally able to speak.

<< Try not to leave anything from yourself on the battlefield today, Mongrel! >> I said, almost purring, in a slightly deeper voice than usual.

Was there a concern in my voice? No, it was more like a cat-and-mouse game than when a predator tries to scout for prey and plays with it. However, it was a very good question in this game who the cat is and who the mouse is. I could not answer that question at this moment. I would have loved to say that I am the predator and he is the prey; but there was the same chance of the opposite. And even I had to admit and accept that. Maybe that's why it was so exciting? If I could have stood in front of him right now, maybe the answer would have been revealed, I could have found out… but…

Feth! The Taskmaster… I need to concentrate more!

I opened another communication channel, this time in the direction of my former torturer, now my mentor and teacher. For a long time since it turned out I had some telepathic ability thanks to my umbaran ancestors, he’s been the one to help me take advantage of that and help me develop with my abilities. I haven’t practised much on others yet, but I’ve been able to control and manipulate Ziare with a sure hand, with unerringly already. As for others, I had an idea or two of which I have to try. No, I didn't mean Iggy, though it would be obvious. No, I was reminded of the warlord, if he is no longer physically present, telepathy can reach the right parts of his mind to make him feel like he still has a body… It was a very tempting thought.

Concentrate Mercy, concentrate…

<< Taskmaster, this is Mercy! The warlord asked me to inform you. I have access to some of the satellites still in operation, or just long-range scanners on the planet, which can be used to see space movements quite well. I am sending you codes to take control of these devices and make our fleet's fight against the enemy easier. >> I said and at the same time I transmitted the codes over the encrypted channel.

If they enter the system up there, I will give them full control from below. Luckily, these were not the ones through I watched the movements in the city, so I was still able to broadcast the events to the warlord.

I found myself with my fingers hesitantly stopping over the keyboard and felt an irresistible urge to leave this room and head out to the battlefield. To him. It was an almost insurmountable feeling. My throat and mouth were dry, I wet my lips nervously. No, I'm not Iggy, I was loyal to him. The command is the command, even if it was damn hard to keep. I clenched my fist and then when I held it out, I had my fingers on the keyboard already.

<< Warlord, based on the data, you should already see DECEASED Erskine Barran 's units, and Warlord Steelblood has started fighting… with an angel… >> I said hesitantly as I looked at the camera image before blinding me for a moment. Feth! << He is good for the time being, with no reinforcements expected to appear around the orphanage, although a NIO team is on his way. In my experience, not to help others, but to destroy… >>

I said as I continued to hack the old database that was already in the system. So I continued to watch events in the city and space events on monitors at the same time, trying to crack the system. I was hoping no one else wanted to come to the old intelligence building and I could do my job without getting visitors, but meanwhile it was racing my mind there that he didn’t refuse the kiss, how would he react if he felt my fingers on his nape and on his back, along his spine as like how the musician playing on a piano, just inside his mind? Like he has an organic body once more...

Dangerous game…

But that’s what made it even more exciting and even harder to wait when he'll tell me to finally join him…

 

[Lord Letifer]

Lord Letifer | New Sith Order
Joint Allied Forward Operating Command
Spindle | Darth Saevius | Pietro Demici | Ingrid L'lerim



C U L T​

It had all come toppling down. The remnants of a dead empire corralled into their former capital city, besieged on all fronts by those who sought it’s final obliteration. The hungry tidal wave of darkness that was the MAW had come to devour all it’s enemies so foolishly gathered together, it’s marauding hordes unleashed unto the enemy like a flood and yet, in the shadows like boogeymen in the night, the New Sith Order lurked in silence. Preying upon the Sith-Imperials, the Jedi, and the Imperials. They would strike true, strike with hatred coursing through being. They would show their enemies why they had so viciously hunted down their broken counterparts, why Only The Strong survived.

Soldiers cleared through the rubble, scattered out amidst the rock and ruin. The sky lit up in flowers of emergent fire, brilliant lights and immaculate flame as ships torched the sky. The sounds of war were ever present in every corner of the region, the spearheaded effort by the Ashlans and their Allied Powers was making short work of the Sith remnants. The area would soon be clear, the enemy would move on to the next, but they would remain, they would lurk in the shadow, they would kill those they sought.

Lord Letifer rose from the remnants of a shattered building as dust and duracrete rolled off his body and cloak. The patrol had passed, the enemy moving away as the former Sith assassin came to his feet.

“We are nearing their command post. Let none survive, the priority is the priest. Pietro Demici .”

The Lord of the Sith stopped mid stride, his gaze rolling over his shoulder to his compatriots at his back.

“I want his head on display for all to see, make it so.”

With that said the Sith Lord resumed his stride briefly before taking off into a sprint. His boots spirited along the surface of the ground until he came upon an outcrop, leaping off he brandished his saber. The hot plasma ignited, springing to life in a crackling roar as he landed in the midst of the forward operating post. Two hands grasped hold of his weapon, immediately unleashing violence upon those nearest to him with a unrelenting rage.

He would cut a swath to this holy man, he would have his head.

 

[Dagon Kaze]

THE FINAL COUNTDOWN
BROTHERS DIVIDED vol. II
Issue #0 w/ Aeric Kaze

No amount of investigative work could've brought him to here and now.

Only blood.

An astral connection beyond the stars, beyond the plains of the living and dead, beyond even space and time, that could never be truly shattered. Neither by the petty political plays of mortal men and neither by the very spiritual divide of the Force itself. It was true - only the blind, deaf and dumb could not foresee this day, this hour coming.

For each was a piece of one whole.

He walked. Not of his own volition but pulled by the unbreakable link. Through rivers of blood and fields of death. The way, much like the link, remained clear, void of any attempts to be diverted. The prowling monsters scurried away from his Path, cowering and observant.

He walked. Beneath the fiery skies of a reckoning overdue, under the celestial dome where the stars had finally aligned to tell a tale as old as time.

He walked to meet destiny.

To unite what was once one.

A short distance from the inconspicuous homestead, he finally stopped. The light wind ceased as if it was holding its breath and the air felt thick to breathe. In his rare, childish dreams, the monsters would turn into critters, the corpses to grass and bush, and the skies painted blue by the brush of a high noon sun. The wailing, last dying breaths of soldiers are the chirping birds perched upon blooming trees. And the wastelands are the rolling, endless farmlands of Ruusan where two twin brothers play and dream.

But dreams... dreams rarely come true...

...you know why nightmares keep you awake?

Because they're real.

The Jedi's leather jacket fell flat on the bloodied soil, lightsaber hilt in hand. Beneath the raven locks, a blue gaze pierced the black shrouded standing watch on the porch.

"I've come to bring you back..." Dagon Kaze spoke with a voice mettled by composure but heart weighed down by emotions. Twice he'd fought his brother and each time he'd lost more than the previous one. He was only alive due to his brother's last remaining pity and the Force.

The grip around the cylinder tightened till his skin bled.

"... brother."​

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

TO THE LAST,
KILL THEM ALL

​

Location: Dromund Kaas | Kaas City
Local Time: 20:29
Date: -DATA CORRUPTED-
Primary Objective: Assist with cleansing the city of Dromund Kaas
Secondary Objective: Numb the pain
Equipment: Loadout 1 + Goran’s Stand (Minus the ECM-598 Medical Backpack)
Vode: Enclave | Shai Maji | Thonn Rokkal
Friendlies: NIO | AC | GA | DECEASED Erskine Barran
Hostiles: Sith | Maw | Eternal Empire | House Io

GRIEVING
​

The Alor’ad[1] sat alone in the troop bay of an Enclave dropship within the hangars of Clan Krayt’s flagship, The Vhipirheim, impatiently waiting for the operation to commence. He had prepared and reported to the dropship he was assigned to for the mission earlier than others. The giant silently stared at the durasteel floor of the gunship behind his white glowing visor, lost in thought and pain.

Regrettably, his mind was clear today. Had been for a few days, in fact. It was one of the rare occasions he wouldn’t be under the influence of drugs. That helped him forget Eliz, shroud his mind from the pain; even if it was just for a few hours. The anguish never ceased to come rushing back after the drugs wore off. It wasn’t the first time he lost a fellow vod[2]. No, far from it. He had lost many comrades. Most of his brothers and sisters from his original squad in the Union Army had fallen in combat over the years across many theaters of conflict. Their names, deeds and memories would live forever on in his heart and mind.

But that never meant their march to the Mandalorian oversoul, the Manda[3], did not take a piece of his soul along with them.

He couldn’t get over Eliz’ death. He regarded him like a son he never had. The Alor’ad had trained him personally to be one of the best when the kid came to him for help after all those years, completing his training left unfinished, in consequence of Cleru’s untimely passing; the kid’s Buir[4]. They had finished what Cleru had started, together. He had never felt more pride in his life before, when the kid shouted the Supercommando Oath at the successful completion of his arduous training.

But that pride he felt had left its place to shame in his heart, taking his loss very personally. The kid was killed in Panatha at the hands of the Eternal Empire. The giant didn’t spend a single waking moment to analyze and reanalyze everything he had taught the kid when his thoughts were unclouded by the tranquilizing, mind numbing drugs. He tried to find where in Death’s name he made a mistake when he trained the kid; every live fire exercise, every maneuver, every combat drill. Everything he had taught him.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t find what went wrong that had seen the young warrior die that day. Unable to find a meaningful explanation with the fact in his mind, it was starting to drive him insane with each passing day. Survival was among the most important virtues drilled into every one of them, and he had made sure to teach the kid what he was taught; things that had kept him alive in battle.

What made it all even worse was that his daughter, Gwyn’ika, was missing for the past month, and he wasn’t out there, looking for her. He would gladly give an arm and a leg if it meant he would be given the leave to find her, but he knew such an opportunity would not present itself. He was bound to his people by service. It was the life of a Si’kahya [5]. Personal life didn’t even come second. Although they were still very much members of their clans and houses respectively, they had all forsworn all prior loyalties to be steadfast in the service to their people upon joining the ranks of the elite. It was his obligation he put his duty above all else, even moreso for an Alor’ad such as him to uphold that.

But it was also his obligation as a father to find her. He had pulled some strings, using his contacts from his bounty hunting and mercenary days to find her the day she went missing. But that was a month ago. The search for her was still continuing as if she went missing today, but the search was fruitless so far. The trail got colder with each passing moment.

He was deathly afraid of the worst. If he lost her too…

”There’s a chance that General Barran might hit us up. I know the Sixteens are deploying as well, though they’re under a different commander for this one. I might get in trouble for that one, but we’ll see.” Shai quipped with a snicker as she looked at Kranak.

Ripped off from his troublesome thoughts, the giant recoiled slightly as he came to the realization he was no longer by himself. Raising his gaze from the durasteel floor of the troop bay, he glanced at his surroundings; his helmet visor unmoving. The dropship was now full with fellow Mandalorians from Clan Krayt. The soft clicks and clatters of weapons and gear rang in his ears as the warriors of Clan Krayt began checking their weapons and gear for the final time before the drop to the combat zone. He hadn’t even noticed they had dropped out of hyperspace. Their Alor[6] stood close, in front of the giant. Cracking a crooked smile underneath his faceplate that belied how he felt at the moment, he would respond to her quips in kind as he shifted his gaze at her cybernetic red eyes; trying to play things off as if everything was okay, and he was managing the grief. He had to remain strong for them; for his squad. For Shai, Alora, Thonn, Sasha and Aves.

Or at least try to.

<”Heh, I’m sure you’ll be fine, ner vod.”> He said somewhat mirthless, a brief moment after Shai’s quip. By his nature, he wasn’t a banterer unlike Shai and Alora, but even that reply belied his usual response to her quips with some teasing in response. He hoped that would pass unnoticed by his old friend with how he normally conducted himself at the eve of a mission. He would get serious, with quips and jokes thrown at him from her and Alora responded with a simple, soft chuckle at times.

Unable to restrain his anxiety further, the giant began to impatiently tap his foot on the durasteel floor of the gunship as he leaned the back of his head against the steel plating behind him, waiting for the troop bay to bathe in red light, notifying them that they would be jumping out the dropship soon. Partly from his withdrawal from drugs at the moment, and partly from the burning desire to channel his grief and deep hatred towards the Sith for the battle and forget his pain, he was anxious; anxious to descend on the Sith world and cleanse the planet and its inhabitants of their damnable taint with beskad,[7] tracy’uur[8] and tracinya[9]; street by street, building by building.

It was about time they got a taste of their own medicine.

​

From the cloudy dark skies above, a hailstorm of blue blaster bolts rained down on a squad of Sith Remnant troopers that were attempting to recuperate from the bombardment that pulverized several city blocks around their dropzone. They were cut down in seconds from the incoming fire. None of them reacted in time to get a shot off at the Alor’ad. The giant landed on his feet a few moments later as he descended on the unfortunate survivors from the initial bombardment of this sector.

All around the giant, the buildings were reduced to rubble, the streets were strewn with torn bodies, body parts and burning wrecks of vehicles scattered all around; both civilian and military in nature. The downpour failed miserably to quench the flames of the burning wrecks. Columns of thick, black smoke trailed from them into the night sky, merging with the heavy dark clouds above. As he walked among the recently cut down Remnant troops, his blaster rifle swiveled from sector to sector; the Alor’ad observed his surroundings with steely vigilance and silent admiration. The level of destruction their naval elements were capable of never ceased to impress him.

Hearing the soft shifting of rubble nearby, the giant snapped towards the source of the sound immediately; his finger on the trigger. A remnant trooper emerged from the rubble, crawling on all fours as he slowly dragged himself out of the debris he was trapped under in the wake of the bombardment. His back was turned against the Alor’ad. He wasn’t aware of the giant’s presence; he was most likely in shock. His hateful gaze fixated on the wounded trooper, the Alor’ad walked towards the crawling Remnant soldier at a slow deliberate pace, keeping his rifle at the low-ready for a moment.

Seeing the giant’s imposing shadow, the trooper turned his head towards the Alor’ad just as the giant struck him down onto the ground face first, swiftly slamming the butt-stock of his blaster rifle on the trooper’s back. A miserable yelp escaped the trooper’s mouth as the giant nailed him to the ground. Wasting no time any further, the giant trained the blaster on the trooper afterwards. The sharp howls of his Paranaor drowned out the screams of the man as the Alor’ad mowed him down, firing burst after burst at his back until he ceased to move.

The retaliation would come from the executed trooper’s friends soon after, in the form of suppressing fire. Forced to take cover, the giant swiftly turned around and vaulted over an upside down speeder nearby, taking shelter from incoming enemy fire. The platoon under the command of Shai were quick to return fire against the opposing force.

Lying on the ground next to his old friend behind cover with his back leaning against the wreck, the giant counted the rounds shot at them, waiting for the opportune moment to peek from his cover and pounce on them as she spoke.

:: Kran, you think we should head out and find the old General? Or just keep at this ‘til there’s nobody left? ::She asked with a maniacal grin as she hid behind a blasted out speeder.

He turned his visor to meet Shai’s as blaster bolts cracked and whizzed past above them. He was considering her suggestion, just as the General himself spoke over the general comms, rallying Mandalorian and Imperial forces alike.

<”All Imperials, all Mandalorians - this is Barran! Make your way to the Southern Historical District, it is time we riot together. . . . Fix bayonets, draw blades, and bring out your knuckledusters! IT IS TIME TO PAINT THESE STREETS WITH MAWSWORN BLOOD ! ! ! ! UP-CLOSE AN’ PERSONAL! ! ! ! THE TRUEST ULTRAVIOLENCE YOU WILL EVER KNOW! ! ! !”>

His head tilted to his side in silent response. Now that’s an aruetii he could respect.

:: If we’re lucky, we can accidentally drop a few bombs on the Ultranauts. ::

That just sealed the deal for him. A dark, sinister smile spread across his face. How could he turn down this opportunity to get back at the Eternal Empire to avenge Eliz? <”Let’s hope we can find some Ultranauts on our way, then.”>The giant responded in glee; his grief from before was replaced with the ecstasy of combat. He was feeling like himself again. Feeling alive.

<”But let’s mop up these fools, first!”> Said the giant as he sprung into action. He had counted the intervals between each suppressing salvo, and chosen the best moment to peek from his cover to retaliate with his underbarrel grenade launcher of his blaster rifle. A thunderous explosion followed in the wake of the distinct thump of his grenade launcher, blowing up the machine gunner and his assistant that had them and the platoon suppressed. <”Let’s not give them time to recover! Come on!”> he shouted as he vaulted over the speeder, firing and maneuvering towards the opposing force’s positions to mop them up with Shai and her platoon, before eventually heading towards the Southern Historical District to link up with the General and his forces.

​

Spoiler: Translations

[1] Alor’ad = Captain.
[2] Vod = Brother, sister, comrade (mate).
[3] Manda = The collective soul or heaven.
[4] Buir = Father/Mother.
[5] Si’kahya = The shield and sword of the Enclave, sworn to enforce the Enclave’s will with utmost loyalty, dedication and prowess in combat. Elite commando units.
[6] Alor = Leader, clan chief.
[7] Beskad = slightly curved saber of Mandalorian iron.
[8] Tracy’uur = Blaster
[9] Tracinya = Flame

​

​

 

[Annor E-059]

Annor E-059
Objective 1: Once more unto the breach.
Writing With: DECEASED Erskine Barran
Historical District, Kaas City

Lieutenant Greer looks down through the turret hatch to his tank's gunner, who himself states at the Lieutenant with a gaze that couldn't be mistaken for anything else than a plea from an enlisted soldier to a commissioned officer. Greer opened up a communications channel with the Elite Trooper, Annor E-059. "Elite, did you hear that? General Barran wants all personnel to engage the enemy in hand-to-hand combat..."

Annor furrows her brow, listening to the inane rambling of Lord-General Barran and his 'order' for his Legion to engage in Melee with the Maw and then Lieutenant Greer's disbelief. Wordless thoughts pass through Annor's mind, and she narrows both deep blue spheres behind the polarised visor lenses around in their sockets; she takes a deep breath and looks down at her open palm. "An order is an order." Annor muses and curls fingers into a tight, angry fist. Floating away from the conversation. "It doesn't matter what it takes. Your sole purpose in this universe is to complete your mission." She'd paraphrased the words of another, the big-bellied giant of a man Lieutenant Colonel Berach Ulrand. The latter had said those words to Annor's class of Elites before receiving their augmentations.

The depressing solemnity of the Elite's chilling statement takes Lieutenant Greer back; he jerks rearwards at the disturbing implication. Did their lives mean nothing to General Barran? Little did Greer suspect, Annor E-059 had addressed none other than herself. Lieutenant Greer resisted the impulse to mentally condemn both the Elite and the Lord-General as amoral psychopaths. "Surely he doesn't mean for us to fight insane mawite cultists in hand-to-hand combat when we're tankers?! I mean, the sabretooth's will scrap with the best of them."

 

[Ares Atrius]

D R O M U N D _ K A A S
Enforcement: AA7-100 / E10 BI§4


Praetor and Exarch of Iokath
Tag(s): Waymar Dathrohan & Scyllias Aventor ​

With a slightly shocked, but controlled expression, either way hidden behind his helmet, Ares watched his long time friend falling out of the other shuttle as it got hit. He stood up and looked out of the open door, his coat blowing in the wind as well. On his HUD it was still showing Scyllias as alive with normal body functions, therefore he did not worry and did not call for a turn. They had arrived either way.

Below them a battle, one of many, seemed to just have started. A strong unit bearing the banner and badges of the New Imperials assaulted positions of the defenders, petty Sith puppets. They came out of the jungle and right into the midst of battle. Ares did not have long to see, but in the short time he saw plenty.
Soldiers clashing into each other, brutal close combat where every step could be the last, the surrounding environment lost to the cacophony of screams, explosions and the own heartbeat. Corpses were distorted, dismembered and broken like dry branches in a hurricane, the smell of fear, the taste of death and weighing ever more and more, the feeling of mutual hate were all around.

The shuttles did not have long before anti-air weapons would find their mark, so the attack of the Iokathians happened swiftly and without taking a single step too much. In a fast U-turn of the shuttles right above the escalating battle, the Knights jumped out of their transports. A dozen figures were falling out of the sky and supported by the Force made their first, literal impact. It were just about two dozen meters, but the application of some telekinetic wave gave the drop some more taste.

With their shields in one hand and their pikes in the other, the Knights of House Atrius rose as one, behind their exalted Exarch. Blue blade ignited as they rushed into the battle, fighting shoulder by shoulder as they stabbed and bashed through the ranks of the Sith-remnant soldiers. They were a mob, a mass of bodies in frenzy, driven mad by the overwhelming influence of the poisonous building they were here to defend.

Ares led his enforcers into the combat himself, he would never ask a man to lead in his stead. It was just an enemy vanguard, but there were plenty of them and the New Imperials could prove valuable allies in time, either in the close or possibly in the distant future. With his lightsaber pike coming in strikes and piercing jabs equally, he was pushed hard by aiding stims of adrenaline and more. It was fight time and everything moved as it was seen in slow motion. The Sith soldier in front was bringing up his blaster, it seemed as slow as a continent. Finally his finger would cramp to trigger, but his chest already had a cauterized hole in it, the pike searching for the next victim, Ares moving on to approach the New Imperial leader or commander Waymar Dathrohan in the midst of battle.

Spoiler: Summary

- Getting into the thick of it, drop into battle at Waymar Dathrohan
Explanation of subtitle:
[A=Praetor Declaration, A7=Defensive Support/Ally clause, -100=Praetor Declaration Counter, E10=Edict Protocol Number, BI=Bellum Iustum Law,§4=the removal/defeat/annihilation of Dark side applicants]

​

 

[Leon Gallo]

Revenant Seven
Rev. Lead: Tren Chaar Rev. Two: Olly Piblarian Rev. Eleven: Mylo Thorne
Tu'teggacha

​

Leon had stayed silent throughout the whole mission. While the newest addition to the squadron tried to banter and was immediately shut down by Commander Chaar, the Jedi had nothing to say. He could feel the darkness of Dromund Kaas, weighing heavily on his mind. A constant pressure on the edge of his thoughts, gnawing at his mental defenses. A stream, slowly eroding away a dam.

This was a place of death. ​

Revenant Seven tugged lightly on his controls, turning towards a mawite craft coming in on an attack. A flare of his X-wing’s cannons drove their target into a climb to avoid the volley. Another came soon behind it, though this one wasn’t so lucky. Their damaged craft began plummeting towards the surface of the planet, far below.

Playing escort was simple enough, two flight just needed to keep enemy craft from destroying the transports. Three flight was performing wonderfully as usual in keeping enemy fighters off, but some still got through. Enough to keep Leon busy and focused on the fight.

The knight winced as the lead transport went down. Five had their hands full protecting the front, while six and eight had the left and right respectively. He could feel the sudden cry of anguish when the first transport went up in flames.

More souls in the river. ​

Flicking his comms on and checking scanners for positional data, Leon spoke.

{“This is Seven, I’ll be over in a moment. Six, Eight, I’m trusting you can hold my position till I get back.”}

Eleven needed help. The X-02 turned on a dime, rocketing towards the endangered A-wing’s position. In the Force, Leon could feel the battle raging around him, each pilot turning and fighting as they moved their controls. Focusing, he felt out just seven. The six Thornwaves hot on Mylo’s tail, plus Mylo himself. Friendly fire was always a risk.

Coming up just as Eleven made a sharp turn, Leon found himself flying straight into the group of Thornwaves. They were tough ships, but that wouldn’t deter the Pilot. Streams of ion and blaster fire left the X-wing’s cannons, aimed at the lead Thornwave. Even if none were brought down, if they could be scattered it’d make fighting them far easier.

 

[SCAR]

Tor’r Tal’Verda | Death’s Hand
SEARCH and Destroy
Khamul Kryze | Kralmus Orr | Siv Dragr | Mira | Thonn Rokkal

W O L F​

Amongst the crumbling Mandalorian Embassy, amid the corpses of their enemy, Death’s Hand laid in wait.

"I do hope they don't keep us waiting long,"

Kralmus said, tugging a serrated knife from the neck joint of a slain Dar'Manda. Tor’r looked on at his vod, his brother, as blood splashed jetted out from the downed warrior across Kralmus’s beskar plating. The Horned Wolf gave his brother a firm nod, affirming to the Devil Mandalorian his agreement on the matter.

"These weaklings made for little sport,"

<“That’s why they were content to serve. No true Mandalorian would allow themselves to become sheep.”>

The Rally Master shuffled his hand open, tossing the beacon to his side in a non-chalant manner.

"I haven't had a real fight since Csaus. These little bands of cringing exiles, clinging to past glories that never really were, hardly count."

He checked his weapons, readying up for the coming battle. Brandishing one of his serrated vibroknives and in his other hand his heavy blaster, the Mandalorian pressed the two together in a unified grip. Blade facing down, handle running along the grip. A close-quarters technique, the platform was only so big, they’d be within his personal space. Right where he wanted them.

"As much fun as it's been terrorizing the livestock, I find myself growing terribly bored."

<“Aye vod, blood and glory awaits us. The galaxy is at war and our liege would have us take it on in it’s entirety. I see no end to battle, imagine, an endless crusade fit for our ancestors.”>

Vroom!

The Horned Wolf looked up as a drop pod emerged from the heavens above wrapped up in the flickering wicks of the savage heat carried by the fall. The pod swiftly made purchase, crashing into the Imperial Citadel, into the former Mandalorian Embassy wing of the Great Palace. Tor’r snickered under his helmet,

<“They do know how to make an entrance.”>

Tor’r bent his knees and readied himself to launch into the fray of battle.

<“Let them meet us out here, let them come to their death.”>

Smoke rolled out the doorway and the savage sounds of battle intensified. Tor’r knew this sound, it was not the enemy that had begun to close in it was another.

“Mand’alor.”

 

[Erion Justeene]

​

Objective I: Found a fight, prepare for it.
Location: New Kaas City, Dromund Kaas
Equipment: Lightsaber, Voidsaber
Allies: BOTM, NIO
Enemies: AC/EE/GA/Enclave
Tags: Stone Gra'tua

​

The rain beat down steadily, increasing into a monsoon and causing the street to flood in places, the reflections of the two of them gleamed in the collecting water. Some of the water had been mixed with blood from Civilians who were crushed in the torrent of debris. Well, there is one thing that remains consistent, is the weather, because it remained as-is for hours now.

Tension ran high, higher than the flames all around them, but Superious was no longer paying anything a lick of attention anymore. All the focus is on this Mandalorian, a worthy opponent, no question, but who needed to be put down regardless of what his skill was. Because if he didn't, Superious would end up dying instead and he refused to submit to such an early demise, he still has things to do.

This was proving harder than he thought it would be, this was a very good fighter. There was an almighty crash as a building in the distance crumbled down into the north side. A piece of Sith history fell away. No deed goes unpunished, which is what the Galaxy had taught its citizens early on. Good or bad, everything gets consequences.

But he found little time to dwell on this as his legs became tangled in Stone's whipcord, this is clever, very clever and Superious only had moments to react, as he caught the glint of Beskad aiming at him. So begs the question, does he let the blade hit him, making this battle go upside down for him, or does he cut it and slide down the roof, thus, causing more defensive strategy?

Or does he block the Beskad as he is? He must think fast because time is ticking down to having the decision made for him. He swung his Saber in a figure of eight, cutting the cord and hoping to block the incoming sword. But got a slice to his arm for his troubles regardless of his action.