The Full Reach of Law (GA Dominion of Atrisia Hex)

[Soeht]

An Offer of Pów̴e̷r​

Silently, Soeht listened to [member="Adas James Malgus"]. His head tracked Adas as he moved up the steps to the same level as Soeht. The apparent temperature grew exponentially colder as Adas approached Soeht.

Once Adas kneeled before Soeht, the Sith Lord told him, “Ýo̧u h͠a͏v͟e͟ t̛w̧o ̀c͜hoi͜c̢es̀.”

Then, Soeht’s right arm emerged from his cloak. He held it out before Adas with his palm facing toward the dripping ceiling.

“I͝ ̨bŕi̢n̨g̕ ͏y҉o͟u͝r ͘fath͏er͏ ̛ba͢c̢ķ so h̴e s͞a̡v͜e̷s A̴tr͡is̴ia,” Soeht said.

An image would then flash within Adas’s mind. The same would happen to others within the chamber, such as [member="Nick Sept"] and [member="Darth Lykos"]. Even [member="Serena Bouie"] might see glimpses.

The scene was…

Spoiler

Adas was apparently wracked with crimson lightning by Soeht. The chamber shook as the young boy screamed in pain.

The ordeal lasted until Adas’s body fell to the ground. Smoke from his smoldering body rose from his back.

Then, the boy awoke with the yellow eyes of his father.

“Ŗ̶i̸s̵͏ę͢͟,̨ ̢͟My̕th̸̢ơ̶̶s̷͟,” commanded Soeht.

The price of this choice should have been obvious to Adas.

A second hand was then presented to Adas.

“O͟r ҉yóu̧ w̸ill ̷br̨in͡g̷ h͜im ͘b҉ac̵k ͝wi̴th̶ ̛t̀h͠e̷ p̶ow̴er̸ ̕I g̢i҉ve ͘y͏ou,” Soeht said, “T̵h͢e͢ ͢p̀r͏ic̵e͝ ̴béi̢ng ̛the͠ y̛ear̡s͞ it t͏ak͝ès foŗ ͟my ̶g̀if̢t ̶to màtur͏e͏.”

And, most likely in addition, Atrisia.

Unless Adas found a means to make a difference with such a power.

 

[Sal Katarn]

Atrisia
Palace
[member="Akuma"] | [member="Darth Malakai"]

Another wave of invisible energy rocks me back a step. I see her running toward me, lightsaber lit, ready to rip me from existence in a flurry of blows. Any human would be outclassed by her sheer speed alone.

But I'm not really human anymore. A bio-interface in the Bollen pattern of my brain processes sensory input at a rate that would make a tactical droid jealous. Raw data goes in one end, stupid fast reflex comes out the other.

I correct my footing and step in to meet her before I'm fully conscious of my actions. The lower-middle of her crimson blade slashes down. I can feel the heat in my right shoulder pauldron. Sparks spit. A hiss of melting duraplast rises. I grit my teeth and snarl.

Left hand retaining a grip on the carbine, my right shoots up to grab the wrist of her saber-wielding hand. Rybcoarse-based enhancements let me crush down on her forearm with the strength of three men. I keep stepping into her and whip the crown of my helmeted head toward the bridge of her nose.

Mandos call it the Keldabe Kiss.

 

[Darth Imperia]

Berzerk

Respirator Working? Check.

Antique, high powered Blaster Pistol? Check.

Lovable Canine Companion? Loxley barked an affirmative and soon rushed to the Sithling's side when the latter called her. The hound seemed just as eager to get into the fray as her mistress, and with good reason - a starfighter was a cramped and claustrophobic environment, even compared to the streets where the duo had lived the majority of their respective lives.

Boots - and paws - hit the ground quickly after [member="Darth Vitium"]'s telepathically projected warning, and whilst they walked towards Jar'Kai, the young Acolyte thought on the various warnings her Mistress had offered her.

If she'd known she was going Jedi Hunting with Vitium, she would've brought a slugthrower - so much better to deal with lightsabers. Still, it seemed to the Apprentice that her Mistress wanted this Graxin fellow all to herself - which suited her just fine. She wouldn't interfere unless it seemed that her mentor was losing - a blaster bolt to the back often evened out the odds, and she was confident enough in her skills that she didn't consider missing a likely outcome unless Graxin started leaping around like Jedi sometimes did. She never understood the appeal of those fancy acrobatics - it was all style, no substance.

But anyway - it wasn't the Jedi that concerned her. It was the giant horrible volcano-demon-god-thing that her Mistress seemed intent on killing.

She wasn't quite sure how they were going to tackle that one.

 

[Alecandria]

Surrender? There was no surrendering in a situation like this. Many a book had she read about conflict and conquest. With the desperate actions that her captor and his companions had taken to retain their freedom, and with the unnecessary assault of their enemies, there would be no simple diplomatic end to this declaration of war. There was no where to run, no where to hide. To turn tail was an act of cowardice, one she would not allow herself to commit. She had turned her back on surrendering and security the moment she returned back to the epicenter that had been the palace throne room.

There would be no rest. Nor would there be any rest for the angry dead.

"Protect her, Jedi," came the words that sounded more akin to a final farewell than a wishful request. His words struck a nerve and she scowled. She was no child, nor a civilian. She was a Jedi, trained and tuned to combat.

When the petite woman turned to her, Alecandria returned and mirrored her expression. The shared an unspoken understanding. They would follow for there was no other option.

Together, the two women followed the empowered Sith Lord in silence.

The court yard in which they all came to a halt in must have once been beautiful and breath-taking. She would have loved to have seen it before fire and brimstone had been called upon and violence had left it broken.

Alecandria watched the Dark Lord, the man known as Mephirium and Cyril Grayson, and listened to the words that fell from his lips. With his hood cast away and the mask withdrawn, she watched the tears stain his face and the sorrow that over took him.

The beacon that called forth and commanded attention from all was a blinding ethereal light. It was not she who spoke first, but her smaller counterpart.

The words that the woman spoke were motivating and Alecandria could not deny that she could have, would have, once agreed with her. She disagreed. The Storm was one of the most vital things to their survival. Without it, the enemy was free to call in more reinforcements. They would not listen to diplomatic discussions. War was knocking on the door and when she reared her black, twisted head words died upon the very lips that would speak them. There was a time and place for conversation, for an attempt to reason with another, but it was not the time. Blood boiled too hotly, emotions were unchecked, and adrenaline levels were at dangerous levels. Pride, arrogance, self-righteousness, fear, anger, and bloodlust were the prime dominators of the field. Common sense, clairvoyance, and compassion were lacking in supply.

Without a word, Alecandria glanced at the woman's hand upon Mephirium's sleeve before bending and gathering up the metal mask that had been discarded to the earth. Bunching up her sleeve, the Jedi brushed away the ash and soot that had collected upon it's face, staining her white fabric.

"The fire you kindle for your enemy often burns yourself more than them," the Jedi stated and Alecandria frowned.

"You speak truthfully," she agreed. "But, some times burning is necessary. Is it not vital for a forest to burn after some decade or so? To give way for new life to flourish where it once could not?" The white robed woman paused to lightly finger the face of the mask, her crystal blue eyes studying it as if for the first time. When she continued, she turned her face towards Mephirium's and smiled.

"I will stand with you. And if this is the day that we all perish, then I have words I must share with you. Your tears are not in vain. Your sacrifices have not been in vain. You have delayed the inevitable, and for that the people of Atrisia owe you their lives. I owe you mine. You saved me. You and Praetorias. I might have died that day had it not been for you. So, thank you. With all of my heart and soul. Allow me to repay the debt I owe you in kind."

Then, Alec held out his mask and present it back to him. In her left hand, her saber was held at the ready for what ever event may occur, no matter the outcome.

"If we must die, then so be it. Give them hell."



[member="Darth Mephirium"] | [member="Bethany Kismet"] | [member="Darth Vitium"]

 

[Ignatius]

Objective, Protect the Throne Room.
Allies: Any of the Dominion forces, [member="Kruel Zing"], [member="Dravis Rosilla"], [member="Nulgath Zardai"],
Enemies, Anyone attacking the throne room. [member="Raph Thule"],
Gear: Tattoo, Katana, Purple Lightsaber, Singlet,
Musical Choice: Courtesy Call - Thousand Foot Krutch

The man's reactions were much faster than I had anticipated. Getting so close to the man to slash at him, I could feel my force drain from me. Drained. Not completely taken away. As I closed the gap, I could see the sides of the armor and how it looked very different from the pack he wore on the back. the pack had something to do with the force being drained from me. I smiled as I got close. The man taking a lightsaber to the shoulder through the armor, I could hear his groans of pain. Making my blood burn hotter. I loved his reaction. Willing to take the pain to fight me.

His arm reached out for me. Trying to grab onto my arm. I seriously thought he was daft. Sure, trying to make my lightsaber "our lightsaber" and fight over it was a good idea for him, but sadly he wouldn't be able to. I was fast and nimble. The blade was weightless which means I could move it just as easily as my own limb. My saber wouldn't be there for long. Why would I keep it there? Hence moving away from the man. Taking a step back and pulling my arm away. The man would grab nothing but air.

Being so focused on the arm, I didn't see the man's head coming in to headbutt me. I was smacked hard in the face with his helmet. I reeled back and pulled my head up with a demented smile. Pain. I thrived on pain. I love, no Lusted, after pain and its feeling. Pain was real. It was inevitable in life. I chose to accept it. Launching myself at the man once more, I making another strike to his left shoulder again. Only aiming between his neckline and the shoulder itself. A pack had it's limits of being able to withstand stress. Why not remove the straps on the man's back? That, and if it cut through the armor once more, it would cause more pain.

To the pain.

 

[Rozalyne Kurganova]

Location: Lialic
Objective: Denying the GA Lialic (Diplomatic Mission For Now)
Allies: Lialic (Dominion)
Opposition: Galactic Alliance & Friends

Her recent expedition to the Stygian Caldera had been a bust with the Sith reappearing to drive out the Silver Jedi. It appeared the Caldera would forever remain an economic backwater so long as the Sith existed to haunt its depressed people.

It wasn't her problem anymore. The Princess promptly parted ways with the Silver Jedi to look into other ventures, as the reputation of the Jedi now lay in tatters from military blunders in the Caldera. The systems of the Deep Core looked ripe for development, now having been freed from the grip of the One Sith. Surveys throughout the region had led her to Lialic, featuring an asteroid belt rich with Clouzon-36. There had been some development by the One Sith to harness the potent fuel, its refinement process much easier than Tibanna, but the infrastructure project fell through as the Sith empire collapsed from years of stagnation and in-fighting.

She quickly swooped in, offering her expertise in the energy industry to help the locals, purchasing the half finished rigs and refineries and building them to completion.

It had only been a few months since her project on Lalic had begun, but already there was a steady outflow of fuel shipments to neighboring systems and beyond. Thousands of new jobs had been created in the process, and the previously anemic local economy began to see an upturn. Lialic was now a boom planet.

Always with an eye to expand the influence of the FSC, the politician used the success of her project as a segway for discussions about joining the organization. For the past week, she had been in conference with the local government, led by Governor Joseph Daniels, a hold-over from the time of One Sith's control of the planet. Talks had been going well so far, Daniels not too keen on the prospect of the Galactic Alliance spreading its tendrils to his corner of space. His past associations put him at risk of being sacked under their control, but with the entry into the FSC, his little fiefdom may yet be preserved. As a Princess herself, Rose had no qualms about Lialic being ruled by an oligarchy. Truth be told, neither did the average man, so long as their basic needs were met by those in power. This truth was reflected in the power structures of the great powers of the galaxy, most some form of undemocratic rule, from Dossum to Voss.

All seemed to be going well until she received a dreadful call late in the evening just as she had been about to retire for the night. The GA circus had reached Atrisia, and was now spreading like wildfire across the sector as unknown forces fought across several planets. Flipping through her phone, she found her news feed flooded with breaking reports of sightings of warships and armies everywhere.

Thankfully, the madness hadn't reached Lialic, but she had something waiting for anyone who would threaten her Clouzon fields. They were protected by companies of Caridian stormtroopers - veterans of the Imperial Remnant - and her personal guard with her on the planet, the Berkut. They were supported by a flotilla of fighters and small warships. All more than adequate for chasing away any would-be raiders, though her forces relied on the local military against a more substantial threat. Daniels had retained possession of some personnel and hardware from former One Sith soldiers who had found themselves out of a job.

She called the Governor to see if he was aware of current developments. On holo-feed, she was greeted to the appearance of a half-dressed Zabrak, looking quite irritated. His sharp features softened just as their eyes met, staring at the source of his new found wealth.

"I suppose you've heard already. Quite the mess to the south."

"Details have been scarce on my end. I was only just alerted by my assistant. What do you know?"

"It's been reported that the Alliance appeared a few hours ago over Atrisia to enforce a blockade. For what exactly, that remains unclear. Apparently, there's some huge anomalies that appeared in the Atrisian system during a battle, picked up on our long range scanners. Communication has been nigh impossible. I've considered sending a ship to check out things myself."

"Alright, anything from the other systems?"

"Nothing yet, my office is just now getting in contact with my neighbors. Understandably, all my counterparts are probably just as shocked as you and I. Life here is usually uneventful."

Just her luck. Part of the reason she had chosen develop in the sector was the belief of stability, but with the Alliance on the move, her holdings could now be at risk. From Alliance, or whoever they were shooting at right now.

"I'll be placing security over my facilities on high alert. I'll look at what else I can call in from Carida in the short term. Will you be alright until then?"

"Thank you. Yes, we should be fine. I don't have any plans to join in on whatever is happening with the Alliance."

"Very good. We have quite a long night ahead of us."

"That we do."

[member="Darth Mephirium"] [member="Zark"]

 

[Nick Sept]

[member="Soeht"] [member="Serena Bouie"] [member="Adas James Malgus"] [member="Darth Lykos"]


[youtube]https://youtu.be/qFcuvoUv_Z8[/youtube]

The ghost watched as the being...boomed into the minds of everyone. The urge to rest was different for the departed, as any decent ghost could tell you. Rest was....permanent. Rest was final. Rest was the end. Once, perhaps, death and release would have been enough today. Hell, dyig on this world with the rest of the forsaken would have been sufficient enough for him msot years. But today, the man in black echoed back, not a roar or a shout, but a simple, earnest, almost stern rebuke. Quiet in in its honesty. The entity on cetner stage would've heard it, the others, who could say?


I'm afraid there is no rest until I'm done with what's needed, the stern voice uttered without words.



He continued, remaining silent. None had answered his question. No, the boy was more important, and was being asked a graver question. Would he give himself to bring back his father, if only some shadow of the form. The ghost sighed, his face turned towards at the two of them. "You're kidding, right?"


Honestly, this was the dumbest thing he'd heard in a while. If Mythos actually gave a damn about his bloodline, he wouldn't be coming back to possess his son. Of course, that didn't mean this bellowing maniac didn't have some other half-plan to screw the kid over. So, with all the grace you would expect from a dead drill seargant with nothing to lose, he looked at the two of them and interrupted.


"This city is burning, and frankly, both of those choices are sucker's plays. Everything has a consequence, foreseen or otherwise," he mused calmly. "You open the doors between life and death now, as this is happening, there's no replays. No going back. No lucky draws," he took out a cigar from his pocket. Chaos knew where he got it from. "Tell me this, Mr. ancient and powerful sorcerer: what do you get out of this? You don't seem the charitable type...." he twirled the cigar, still unlit, in his hand. If this kid was about to gamble his life on the words of some motherfether with an iron mask and no sabacc face, then the soldier-turned-senator-turned-soul could definitely spare a minute to make sure those words were weighed properly, minus all the sanctimonious poodoo. He didn't give one chit about all of this--so why did he keep meddling?




The dead senator wished he still had his false eyes. They coudl at least guage what has hapenig here. pin pricks of light behidn the glasses shifted from green to red. The leather duster seemed to ignored the floor entirely. "But I suppose provideful real answers of meaning is beneath one such as yourself. After all, substance shoudl best be left to the substantial," he quipped, deciding to get in a final jab. If the others would interrupt or make their peace with this lunacy, let them. The Senator from Cartao waited to see who else would take the floor.

 

[Placeholder 04]

There was a tug upon his sleeve.

Mephirium blinked down at the woman. She stood a full head shorter than him, yet there was a presence to her that she could not deny. He'd expected the two women to have long since made for some kind of shelter. Instead they stood out here with him; awaiting the coming judgement of the invaders. His brow furrowed as the petite woman spoke her words. They were wishful things; promises of peace that simply could not be. The storm was long since out of Mephirium's control, and it was their safeguard. Without it, he had little doubt that Atrisia would burn.

"You speak noble worlds," he began, "And I can appreciate what you are trying to do, but things aren't so simple. When the Jedi arrive, I will sue for peace. When they deny me, and they will, I will defend myself." He gestured toward the sky. "They bring Mandalorian warriors and side with the Zambranos, a family known for committing genocide against entire races. Even if they agree, their allies will see this world burn."

Despite his words, Mephirium could not help but see the merit in Bethany's own. Some might have seen it as weakness. Mephirium knew it to be nothing ore than reason. "Should the Galactic Alliance agree to leave the system, I will see to it that the storms are ended. I've no desire to see anymore bloodshed than you,"

But that was not entirely true. He wanted to see the alliance burn for their sins, but rationality won out over raw emotion. Those whom saw fit to attack Atrisia had to be repelled; pursuing them afterword was not so easily justifiable. "Help me find a solution, a common ground, and I will do what I can."

[member="Veiere Arenais"] would have free passage through the city. The courtyard was not particularly far from the outskirts, and there would be little to obstruct his arrival. Cyril reached out and tracked his old friend's progress, just as he felt another familiar being.

She was cold and bitter; the antithesis to Mephirium's calm apathy. He knew who she was instantly, and he knew why she was coming.

"If you stand with me, that is your choice, [member="Alecandria"]," he gestured toward the outskirts of the city. "But the conflict that comes now is mine alone. It is personal."

The lightsaber in his hands thrummed with power as he stepped forward. All thoughts of peaceful solutions, or idealistic promises melted from his mind. He would stand his ground here until all that came to face him either fled, or fell. So long as he yet lived, the Dominion's hold over this world remained. His thoughts centered on one creature; the woman whom had taken his flesh.

Eyes of slate and storms fell to the cybernetic fingers. They trailed up the metallic arm, to the armor which he knew protected an artificial torso. Silara's final strike on Kashyyyk had almost murdered him, and in his mind, he'd been forced to retaliate. Even then, when she lay bleeding in the surf, and he spent the last of his energies to keep her alive, he knew she would come for him. It was fate.

The words rung in his mind. He'd loved this woman once, and it was only fitting she be the first to challenge him. He thought up a dozen taunts; a hundred cold responses intended to dig at her. All of them hurt.

"You took too long." He said instead. His voice carried some semblance of an emotion, though he was hard-pressed to discern what it was. Perhaps it was grief, pity or outrage -- he had no idea. In the end, it mattered little.

[member="Darth Vulcanus"] would deal with those that sought to control the capital. Mephirium had his own threat to deal with. He cast a look back to @Alecandra and [member="Bethany Kismet"], and offered them the faintest of smiles.

"She's coming for me," he said with a touch of sadness. "She'll try to kill me. She may succeed, though given our last confrontation, I doubt it. If you so desire this peace, then find those other Jedi and convince them to put away their swords."

He would need Alecandria here. His words were meant for Bethany, and he suspected she understood as much. Alec had made it clear where she stood, and if Silara were to bring any tricks, the Jedi's help might save his life.

Not that he cared all that much for it anymore.

Silara had been a mistake. She was the one he wanted to save; the one he should've been able to dredge out from the depths. Instead, his actions had only driven her further into their clutches. He recalled so definitively the sphere of ethereal death she held in her hands, and the way she had turned to him, her decision so very clear. He'd moved to stop her before she could end his life, and he had succeeded. The damage to his body was evidence enough of the sphere's power, but his quick action had preserved him.

There was regret in his heart. Regret for what might have been, for what he could have done for her.

With a thought, he snuffed it out.

She'd seen fit to use his sister's capture against him, and had been nothing more than the Dark Lord's pawn. The same Dark Lord that had died by Cyril's own hand. If he had gone with her, then he would have been nothing more than a slave, and the mantle would no longer be his own. If he'd joined her, then the One Sith would still retain control of the core.

No. Cyril Grayson did not have any regrets, only pity and the dying remnants of a love never allowed to bloom.

[member="Bethany Kismet"], [member="Alecandria"], [member="Darth Vitium"], [member="Mala Arar"]

 

[Rhen Qel-Droma]

Allies: @Rhen Qel-Droma | [member="Franc Kotrag"] | [member="Nataya Graf"] | [member="Deacon"]
Enroute to Atrisia from Dulvoyinn
New Jedi Order & GADF

With their Galactic Alliance Defense Force Attache, the first of the many vessels sent out to provide aid contained Knight Qel-Droma and the young padawans and Knights he had met earlier. They quietly sat or stood around the lounge, a few discussing in mild concern and alarm over the events.

As they were in Hyperspace, they had not received the most recent news activity. The last they had heard was the sudden apparition of curious storms and phenomena over the system. That and that the set up of a forward operating base on Inysh was standing by.

The old Corellan Jedi stood by the viewport, his hands lightly clasped behind his back. He stared out into the streaks of white and blue of hyperspace. Thick bushy brows furrowed in deep contemplation, setting at the very least four large furrows over his high forehead in contemplation.

Were any of the padawans or other New Jedi Order Knights to approach him, he would be more than happy to have a conversation. For now, he mulled over these events. What it meant. For the Alliance. For the Galaxy. For the Order in and of itself.

 

[Bartic Myth'rand]

Location: Captiol of Atrisia heading to the palace courtyard via gunship

Allies: Sith and co [[member="Darth Malakai"] [member="Causstik Rahn"] [member="Enma Jayss"] [member="Dravis Rosilla"] [member="Darth Mephirium"] @Akuma] (tell me if I messed you)

Enemies: GA and co [[member="Taryc Ap'Irae"] [member="Seras Rose"] [member="Adele Adonai"] [member="Raph Thule"]] (tell me if I messed you)

???: [member="Asajj"]

Objective: Regroup with allies and take the surface of Atrisia

Equipment: DC-17m, Blast vest, holdout blaster

Forces Commanded

Spoiler

x1 Brimstone-class assault cruiser 'Celestial Knight'
x 36 Low Altitude Assault Transports/Infantry (LAAT/i)
x 1080 Pirate raider marines

Almost immediately after leaving the Knight's bay Batric's comm lit up with a communication, a priority call from [member="Darth Malakai"], a request to use his raiders to supplement existing forces to take back the city and push on to the surrounding territory. So, he started thinking, there is a plan, good there was a plan, and a plan meant that there was a mush greater chance of victory.

Opening a communication to whatever is left of the 501st command structure "Attention, this is Director Myth'rand, 36 LAAT/i gunships will be emerging from assault cruiser currently holding position above the city and attempting to take out bombers, the gunships carry 1080 of my raiders to reinforce your lines, do not waste their lives."

Keying the pilot "Continue on to the palace land and us in the courtyard"

Bartic felt a chill go up and down his spine, despite going onto combat many, many times, this time would be different, this time he would be standing with the best the Dominion has to offer, all force users in order to stand against other force users something almost no normal being could live through, but Bartic would prove that wrong, and he would come out on top.

The pilot executed a stranded hover-drop, stopping just long enough for Bartic to step out and then racing back to the skies to deploy his lethal cargo elsewhere.

 

[Asajj]

Location: The Palace, Heading for Southern Entrance
Objective: Defend the Palace from Jedi
Allies: [member="Bartic Myth'rand"], Sith
Enemies: [member="Gabriel Sionoma"] [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] [member="Seras Rose"]

Asajj stormed through the palace halls, throwing her commlink at the wall beside her. If Mythos wasn't going to answer then it looked like she'd have to do everything herself. She noticed now that guards and soldiers were around the palace setting up positions and giving orders, clearly an attack on the palace was imminent. The bulk of the defenders however were heading to defend the Northern entrance, and so Asajj herself went South. Winding through the vast corridors of the palace which she had lived in for recent times she quickly found her way to the southern entrance.

There it seemed quiet for the moment with nothing but a standard castle guards on point. Asajj plopped herself down on the floor into a cross-legged position, watching the entrance intently. She allowed her emotions to swirl inside her, but not unchecked thanks to her last lesson with her father. The dark side flowed through her and she could feel it's power give her strength once more, ready for any who may dare come to take her partner's palace.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

"Palace it is then. But, let's get some reinforcements on the way. There are a lot of dead we could use on our side." Draco grinned behind his visor, but his body language oozed of malicious intent. For every soldier they lost, it would return as a drone controlled savage. For every warrior their enemies lost, it would be the same. He scooted forward in the saddle of his Basilisk and patted the seat. "Come on, I need someone on my back anyway." Faster travel, offered the protection of the particle shield the Basilisk held for itself and its riders. No doubt there were already some that were operating on their own volition by this point, riderless but still aware, still fighting for their companions. "Dogs, go ahead. Get to it." The six warriors didn't turn to look to the Alor for direction, they simply went about their way. When the real fighting began, it would get ugly, and it would be because of them.

Draco waved a hand at those with him and some of them grinned, others laughed, some were silent with remorse or distaste for the order. Nevertheless, they released the Mindshackle Scarabs from the compartments in their mounts, letting the tiny, quarter sized droids buzz away from them in a tight swarm. Some stopped at the bodies of the trandoshans Taryc and her people had killed, crawling around on their corpses. The limbs of the fallen jerked and fists clenched and opened as the little droids took control of them. The droids themselves made the corpses operate like any other battle droid, fully aware, intelligent enough to determine friend from foe, combatant from non-combatant as well as a soldier might. The difference was in the details. It was the fear of shooting an enemy and seeing them continue to shuffle forward, through heads being severed, limbs shot off. It was the weapon of fear of the certainty of failure. Of panic and disruption. Effective troops? No, they might barely manage to use crude improvised weapons, nothing as complex as a gun.

"Alright, its time. Turn the Rekali's and some Basilisks loose into those gunships, and cut the leash off the Eaters of the Dead and the Army of the Risen. Lets take down a palace. Mark Alliance personnel as friendlies." Draco glanced around, he could hear the engines and repulsors on the Basilisks revving and he could hear the crowd of warriors itching to get into battle with the Kindred. For now, Draco conserved his own resources, holding his power back. In all this death and destruction, pain and distortion of the Force, certainly no one was truly sensing it clearly, for it was not clear. Lightning burrowed holes in the earth from black churning skies and just a small opening showed the way to freedom. But there were too many Mandalorians to escape hell from above. They could only claim the shelters of the Atrisians for themselves or dissipate the storm. Draco held his hand down to help Taryc up if she chose to ride alongside him. "We'll let the dead slam into them, and then once occupied, we will streak from the skies and dump all guns. Once there is enough Chaos in their ranks, and there will be plenty, we can start looking for their leadership and me and you can gun for them."

Howls erupted from the Cult of shamans, burning with green witch-fires in their eyes. The pulse of the Dark Side flooded their veins and their fiendish howls echoed across the sky. The court leapt from their perch atop the Shaadlar they had claimed for their ritual, falling towards the ground and their mounts hovering alongside the ship. Blood dripped from them and it was ready to begin. The Force burned in their bodies and the creatures were ready to assault the palace in a storm of rage and power. Though few in number, they were strong in body and spirit, calling on the Force to fuel them into monsters as the advance began through the wretched sky and burning earth the Sith had turned Atrisia into.

The Mounted Mandalorians, as they remained mounted or using jet packs to go from roof top to roof top, pushed towards the palace. With the Trandoshans seemingly marching away from it, that was beneficial for the Mandalorians almost completely airborne attack. And that the Trandoshans were split into two groups allowed the groups of Mandalorians not advancing on the Palace to swoop from the air and rooftops to focus fire on them one at a time. But, that was mostly background noise.

[member="Taryc Ap'Irae"] [member="Bartic Myth'rand"] [member="Darth Mephirium"] [member="Causstik Rahn"]

 

[Kaili Talith]

[member="Soliael Devin Talith"]

In many ways her father was right. Kaili didn’t want to leave, but that also didn’t mean she wouldn’t understand why they should and most likely would. The world above was scorched. While she wasn’t quite sure if that descriptor was as literal as one might think or not, it was still an ever so fitting metaphor to describe what the entire world felt like. Death, fear and panic seeped into almost everything. Kaili herself was filled with the latter two. It wasn’t a situation that was within her reach, but something within still drove her towards that exit until her father turned her around and knelt down to her level. She wasn’t a dumb girl, she knew exactly where it was heading. He opened his mouth, he spoke and sure enough he urged them to leave.

A caring father in a shirt and cargo shorts.

This wasn’t the savior of these people.

Kaili wasn’t the savior of the people either.

Her shoulders sunk in defeat, her eyes set on the floor and the space inbetween them as she nodded her head. It really wasn’t their fight, at least not with a heftier price than either of them would care to admit. Even with the protection of a former fake god there was no guarantee that she was safe or that her father was safe, and to assume that he would be willing to drag himself out there into the open on the whim of his daughter was, well, foolish.

“Alright.” Kaili whispered. She didn’t have to like it, merely acknowledge it. It was out of her reach with all things considered. The girl threw a quick glance at the others, the people she would be leaving to their fate. There was nothing she could do.

She repeated that thought.

There was nothing she could do.

“... Alright.” She said once more and nodded. “We’ll leave.”

 

[Causstik Rahn]

COUNTER ATTACK

Causstik Rahn stood among his troops just as reinforcements arrived. Perfect timing. The world burned in the background from the Mandalorian assault. Buildings crumbled and explosions rang out all around them. To make matters worse the dead had risen again. We're they effective combat warriors? No, but what they didn't have in skill they made up for in sheer number. A commander from the LAAT's asked Causstik for orders. "I want ten gunships supporting each of the assaults on the flanks, the other sixteen are to drop EMP's on the dead," That would certainly take care of that.

Now with out the dead hindering them his troops could move freely. He readied both lines of attack. Three thousand troops fell into their formations. Walkers stomped their way to their respective lines. Then the orders were in. The attack was a go. The battalions moved out. They met stiff opposition from the enemy forces, but these were men of the five oh first. A regiment that had withstood the test of time and come out stronger for it. They swept aside the minimal opposition as the Mandalorians made a bee line straight for the palace. As the Five oh first battalions secured the flanks the Mandalorians would find themselves surrounded. Taken from the rear by the flanking troops and smashed against the Trandoshan, Jar'Kai, and now added space marine forces.

Bunkers erected along the front of the palace spat out fire with their E-Webs. Mortars shot volley after volley into the enemy ranks and explosions sounded out in response. Troops radioed for support and the LAAT'S answered, surmounting in glorious sweeps of death. Men cried out in pain as they lay dieing. They cried out for old friends, mothers and wives. All to no avail. The death toll was massive. Then came the AT-ST'S they charged over the rubble to meet the Basilisk in combat. More explosions rang out as the two war machines fired multiple salvos of their weaponry. Testing the other for Weaknesses.

Causstik stood at the frontal defenses of the palace. He was leading a charge into enemy lines. Men erupted in gore around him as a basilisk droid opened fire.

"GET TO COVER," He and his warriors rushed under the ruins of a nearby bridge.

"Ready the anti tank missiles," Two men loaded a launcher. Causstik made a few hand signals. Two men popped out of cover providing suppressive fire while another fired his rocket. The basilisk spun once, twice, three times trailing smoke as it flew to its death. The reserve walkers still in the palace court yards moved in behind the troops blowing other Mandalorian war machines to pieces as they advanced. Causstik and his men fell in beside one as it made its way through the city of Jar'Kai. It's steps made an audible clang as it moved, warning any enemies nearby, death was coming.

Causstik and his platoon came under fire from a nearby building and they rushed for the cover of what looked to have once been a pub. "Radio in that vector!" The men did as they were told and the walker leveled the old building. Unknownst to Causstik flesh eaters had taken cover in the floors above. They came charging down the old burned steps practically rabid. The troops entered a swift melee and Causstik became frenzied with blood lust. His vision became tunneled and he was lost in the rhythm of his blades. When the skirmish was done Causstik and his men emerged victorious. As the main bulk of the enemy was pushed back ever so slightly Causstik approved the rest of the AT-AT'S to move in.

[member="Bartic Myth'rand"], [member="Darth Malakai"], [member="Dravis Rosilla"], [member="Marcus Itera"], [member="Draco Vereen"], [member="Thraxis"]

 

[H3xle]

Taryc nodded and leapt aboard the droid mount. In midair, she flourished and sheathed her blade, the flames extinguishing as blade slid into scabbard.

She looked on with interest as [member="Draco Vereen"] spoke of using the dead as continued soldiers. She had seen such uses for the bodies with the Primeval, but hadn't learned the technique for creating zombies. Then a droid swarm was released, and she was confused. The result seemed the same, so she couldn't gainsay.

"I hadn't realized you could do that with technology..." She said with an impressed tone. Not in the slightest upset at the use. In her mind, it was simply an expedient use of resources.

"We'll let the dead slam into them, and then once occupied, we will streak from the skies and dump all guns. Once there is enough Chaos in their ranks, and there will be plenty, we can start looking for their leadership and me and you can gun for them."

"Sounds like a good plan." She replied as her eyes scanned the path ahead. She paused a moment, and focused on her connection to the Force. "Ciemne płomienie pojawiają się, wysiąść" She drew on the Force around them, letting the dark side seep into her to empower her spell. Her hands and wrists became wreathed in violet flames. For the moment, they seemed to be for show, but it allowed her a ranged attack without resorting to blasters just yet.




[member="draco vereen"] [member="Bartic Myth'rand"] [member="Darth Mephirium"] [member="Causstik Rahn"]

 

[Adas James Malgus]

Location: Below
Objective: Chose
Adas found it only colder when he keeled, so cold it was colder than in Midvinter by much...it was a cold that went beyond the physical realm. There was nothing here but [member="Soeht"], it was like the absolute nothingness of chaos surrounded the two. Soeht and Adas, everything else was was an absolute void of pure nothingness. One hand held out the Sith Lord made his first offer and upon his words Adas saw in his mind what would happen.

He saw himself with the yellow eyes of his father, his father possessing him and bringing back his essence that was currently in the storm thus weakening it. Adas saw this too, He also heard [member="Nick Sept"] loud and clear.... there was nothingness but Nick was there alright for better or for worse and he was the only voice and being that mediated between this choice. He did listen and he did understand that there was a consequence for every choice so he nodded. He nodded to Nick and looked at him, hearing his wisdom from the other side and realizing that it was true, whatever this power was would come with a cost... was he willing to pay that cost down the line whatever it was?

The second hand opened and offed just that. A power that when fully mature would be enough to bring his father back, perhaps even more than just that.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tczU6OWoUkI
Location: The Palace Steps
Objective: Turn the tide of battle, make the enemy retreat.
Allies: The Brotherhood of the Sith
Enemies: Invaders

He was not about to give up his life that had just started and power was alluring to all Sith, taking the choice to bring his father back was simply not in his demeanor as a Sithling. He took the power however he knew, that [member="Nick Sept"] was right and that the power that he took would come back to haunt him or galaxy itself by the sound of it. How long had Soeht been holding back in the shadows? What did he gain from the power that he granted? Adas did not have the time to ponder, he along with the Jar'Kai were needed in the surface, he did not have time to wait. He hoped Soeht would work on the move because he could not stay here any longer. The ground above them shook with a blast and he knew that enemy was already at the gates of the palace. With one hand he grasped the Sith Lord's extended hand that symbolized the Power and instantly felt a burn in his back but he turned away sprinting down faster that he had ever ran before. The Axe of Adas was heavy for him, very heavy as his own physical strength was very lacking but he used what little telekinesis he knew to make that weight a little less troubling when he could, thus his speed was a little limited. The Talisman of Kun and Sadow however was already having it's effect, the strength in the force he had which by birth was already considerable and that the axe did little to amplify since that strength came from the exposure to it's power, amplified one more time.

The power of Soeht only furthered the child's strength for one last time from an extended source.

Adas ran through the tunnels, nodding at Nick Sept one last time before he left, sadly he did not have time to hear what the Sith had to answer the ghost... That might have come in handy in the future... but there was no time to spare. He needed to turn back the tide of battle and he had plan on how to try. Before he came down below Atrisia he saw the Mandalorians fly over, he saw their ships and how they approached, he knew that if they had any hope of saving Atrisia every last mandalorian over the skies of Jar'Kai had to die. Military tactics were not his specialty, but the idea was sound in his mind. With [member="Serena Bouie"] and [member="Darth Lykos"] on his heels along with the Jar'Kai they made it to the surface on top of the palace steps without much time, the route already in his mind he found the ascension from the tunnels much quicker than the decent. He gave his first battle orders.

"Kai, protect me at all costs, activate the shields of the platform and stand back from me."

Around him and the palace steps a strong shield was activated. Similar the droideka shields they worked in a way that allowed them to fire out but protect from outside blaster fire or ion cannons. Four generators at each end of the platform without any armor powered the generator, they were however under some thick layers of stone. "Engage anyone who approached me with my men, if the Assassins are truly with me. Demonstrate it" The words fell from his mouth to [member="Darth Lykos"], the most powerful being in his near vicinity right now he would be the key to protecting this platform if the Jar'Kai fell in battle. One hundred and forty ignited lightsabers protected this platform, each one held by proved warrior of the dark side that had served his father well. Beneath the steps was the Nubian Strike force team Mythos had recruited from his defense of Nubia from the Mandalorian clans. Adas' ear com rang, the com he had taken when his father fell. "Wessa ready mah lord, give the orda and we blow the enemy to chaos and back" Wilo said. The gungan demolition team, Also known as the Boom boom squad, responsible for razing Chazwa to the ground had planted explosives around the palace, as soon as the enemy was over the entrance of the gates the ground below them would ignite with thermal detonation culling the begining of their assault. The Boom Boom squad however... had nasty habit for premature detonations or late detonations, for some reason, even being the best explosive experts this side of the galaxy. They could never get the timing right.

He could hear the Graug below too, pounding the enemy with mortar fire and their blasters as well as bolstering his own ranks below. A score of them accompanied him, one of them carrying the, now famed samael. Or "Sammy" as it was so affectionately called. Adas wondered if the beast would be smart enough to operate it when it came time to reload.... He assumed Graug were stupid, just hulking beasts with big bodies and small brains, here was their chance to prove him wrong.
"Mother, Stay close to me..." He needed her around him, close to him. As close as she could be, it was the only way to make sure the Axe of Adas would not act up and throw him into a seizure fit... and he could not afford one of those with what he was about to attempt.

Adas did not know much about the force yet, he knew the basics that his mother taught him, how to levitate things with telekinesis and how to sense the force around him and from other people. She even taught him lightsaber combat as well as his father,it was his father that taught him more complex things as best he could without the force. Such as how to use the bladestorm ability to some degree and how to use telekinesis to crush things. Apart from that Adas had no weapons of the force at his disposal.... but when he held the talisman of Kun he knew what he could do.

With a slam he dug the Axe of Adas next to him and began to use it as Anchor, he was used to this as a child, Mythos never took the axe out of Dagobah until Serena brought it to him in Midvinter, Adas loved that thing as kid, the only thing he had from his father when he went away every year. He knew how to draw the power from the Axe... What he didn't know was what he was about to unleash.

He held the Talisman of Kun to the sky and beckoned forth from it, opening it's eye as something inside him wanted to do since he held the artifact in his hand. It was as if the artifact wanted to be opened, like an eye forced to be closed Adas somehow knew what it could do. His mother's emphatic powers sometimes granted him a bit of foresight on such things. He opened it, using the Axe to fuel the Force Blast that came forth from the Talisman and aiming it at the nearest visible Mandalorian ship, looking to bring it down with the beam of power. It was like nothing he held before. Uncontrollable and unfathomably powerful. It was now that he tapped into the power of the Axe and the Power of Soeht, looking to use them as a well to feed the force blast aimed at the mandalorians in the sky. FIrst blast went off and he could bearly control it's direction

[member="Draco Vereen"] [member="Darth Mephirium"] [member="Raph Thule"] [member="Darth Vitium"] @Eerrvybody​

 

[Sal Katarn]

Atrisia
Palace
[member="Akuma"]

My fingers grab emptiness, but my helmet meets skull with a satisfying crunch. She stumbles back a step, but smiles giddily at me. A mad woman.

Hifold sensory data rushes through my mind, seven senses heightened by cybernetic implants. Even through my helmet's air filters I smell the scent of ozone reeking off her blade. I hear the blade's deadly hum and her rapid, adrenalized breathing. I taste the dryness of my own mouth. I feel the sturdy fabric of my gloves as they curl back around the sonic carbine and set the barrel point-blank at her belly. I see her coming toward me now, blade ready, but she seems slower than before. Must be the mechamiri pack.

My shoulder twinges, duraplast probably melted with the body glove.

A synthetic inner ear gives me a perfect sense of balance. I stand firm. Similarly enhanced proprioceptors tell me exactly where my body is and how much force I am employing, but even an untrained kid could do what I am doing.

She's running toward me. I squeeze the trigger and the sonic carbine rattles out a cone projection of bone breaking hard sound about as wide as a shotgun blast. Point blank.

 

[Joza Perl]

HK’s message had reached pink ears. Thankfully, all was well with mother and child despite the whole raid on Voss and premature labor debacle. And while Joza wanted to put her best foot forward and repay her debt to the mystery droid who’d escorted their damaged little convoy to the hospital, leaving her son wasn’t exactly easy.

“You’ve got a copy of his schedule, right?” Girded for battle, the armored Zeltron held an infant close to her body. The child curled against her chest, groggy and vaguely content as his mother rubbed his back with a gentle, ungloved hand. “Of course. There’s one in the kitchen and another in the nursery, remember? Just worry about yourself, Joza. Do what you have to do, but he needs his mother to come home in one piece.” Given her line of work, there was typically no shortage of women of child bearing age. And although she hated the idea of not being there to hold him and tuck him in at night, the Zeltron had no choice but to hand him off to one of her dancers. This one happened to be a Togruta, several years younger than Joza but a mother of two.

“Right. You’re right.” Biting her lip, the pink tinted woman looked down at her son. He’d been born prematurely, but thankfully was progressing well. Even better, he had a little tuft of red hair on his head. Thank the Force. “And you know there’s mi—“ “Milk in the fridge, right. Don’t use the formula unless I have to. I’ve got it, really.” The Togruta woman gave her an encouraging smile, reaching to take the child from her. “He’ll be fine.”

Nodding slowly Joza shifted the baby upwards, unable to help but smile at him. “You’re going to be a good boy for Auntie, right? Who’s my handsome little man? Who’s my special prince?” Cooing like an idiot, she spoke in a sickly sweet voice while bouncing him softly in her arms. The baby’s face wrenched up for a moment, momentarily uncomfortable before he vomited all over the front of his mother’s chest,

--

“Open communications with The Knight Of The Eclipse. Let [member="HK-36"] know that we’re en route to Atrisian space.” A pause. “Encrypted, obviously.”

“What’s that down the front of your chest? A stain?”

“Shut it.”

Ivan rolled his eyes, turning back to the task at hand. It had been a while since they’d engaged in anything combat related, but he’d come to learn that Joza Perl and trouble often went hand in hand. Part of it had to be some sort of cosmic joke, but most of it was just her decision. How she’d survived this long, the Corellian hadn’t a clue.

The pair were aboard an Illyria Frigate courtesy of Firemane, stocked with several companies of Outback Marines. Ground play was their goal, provided they could actually manage to get to Atrisia’s surface given the multitude of factors in their way.

 

[Reverance]

Location: Unknown
Objective: Unknown

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OJbqplkBBv8​

​

The sharpened nails of the living prosthetic arm clicked against cold metal. An unnerving gaze remained fixed, as singular in sight as it was in purpose, as he watched the Holonews Network and this interview. One phrase doggedly clung to the air with more determination than he cared to admit. One Sith Remnant. The horizon of the metallic room, myopic and slanted, shifted from the display to the armor that clung to the wall, dangling from sharpened metal hooks.

It whispered to him, just as the antiquated weapon would. It hungered, just as the Voxyn arm did, and longed for interaction. He was visited by visions of those he had slain beneath the various stages of his life, between Hand and Wrath and something else entirely. Stumbling aimlessly through all the various connotations that such a phrase might have, he reveled in the final genuine sensation: Insult.

There was no One Sith Remnant. The One Sith either was or it wasn't. There was nothing in between. For all the absolutes that he had known or conjured or molested for his own purposes, this one was the purest. For the dead and dying thing he left in the foreground of a burning world, he expected it to die all the same.

The whispers grew loud and enticing as he couldn't escape their momentary rapture and ever prodding persuasion. He had resolved himself to quietly fade from such mission, to quietly fade from the arena of planetary escalation. But he had spent his twilight existence too long in the presence of this darkside nexus, too long with its words and expressions worming through his mind. In abandoning one presence, excavated from the shell that remained, he had invited another in to quickly take root. And the arm could only do so much to dissuade it.

Legs, of their own volition, moved him from chair to standing position. And then to step ever closer to the Vonduun Skerr Ygdris. The sharpened teeth along abstract grooves, the callouses and scars of war and effort, and that inherent in-satiated posture that would lubricate this transition. The Voxyn fingers reached out as if caressing an old and sacred lover, moving across the breathing chitinous surface. It was grayed and old and hardened, but forever welcoming to its master and partner. In the bogs and fens of Selvaris, this beast had grown and been molded to every specification. And the man couldn't distract from that calling anymore, not with his suit of metal armor and not with his stubborn withdrawal from the old ways.

It fit against his flesh as it always had. Painfully and with adoration. Pincers and legs, reformed and shaped for anchor, dug deep into his skin to take proper hold. The passion for war distilled through the excrutiating agony and heady euphoria, a reminder of what truly drove him. Apathy once festered within him like a corruption, a disease that blotted out every natural characteristic of his rotting soul. Unabated chaos replaced with indifference. But that would change with such a simple thing as an interview on the Holonews Network.

The apparition of a former friend gave way to his intentions. An old scientist, succumbing to the saber that collected him, gestured away from the room and towards the hangar. For Reverance was never haunted by his actions. Souls instead collected around him, like trophies and reminders for the accolades and laurels of time well spent. You will, once more, join the fray?

No. I will consume it.

A crimson eye, once relegated to forever cast vision beneath a visor, looked down towards the wooden box that sat atop the dresser. Cracking it open, he withdrew the dragon hilted saber with steady anticipation. Never did he feel its power more than when steeped in mutual veneration. More than a tool, it was a partner. A duo, one to cast and one to be cast, partners for a different sort of dance. He would join it with the Chrom-Huun, a deadly tandem that he had never implemented. But that would change.

Where he had once walked through burning villages and towns and planets altogether, he now strode through a bustling city of metal and flesh entwined. Criminals walked among the innocent, taking as they saw fit, strong took from the weak, and existence went on. As if nothing ever had an impact. He would emerge from this noise to find a ship quietly waiting, reformed from one once stolen in the depths of a dying planet. Where he would head, he wasn't sure. But he found obsession in the arms of an Atrisian, once promising to kill her family in front of her as presentation of favor. As a lover might offer flowers to his betrothed.

As it seemed now, her family might very well be dead - unfortunate enough to exist within such entropic circumstance. That was an old offer, never fulfilled, and he had someone to thank for a promise he could no longer keep.

 

[Eldaah Aderyn]

Location: Arriving on Lialic
Objective: Carry out her Master's orders
Allies: None currently
Enemies: None currently

The transport she had been on had just touched down on the Deep Core world of Lialic, no sun in sight as it was late evening local time. Absolutely perfect for what her Master had ordered her to do. She still wasn't sure how this would play into her plans, but her Master had given specific instructions. The updates her datapad had been receiving about the chaos unfolding in the sector, especially in the Atrisia system, made her believe her Master wanted to take advantage of such to inflict injury on rivals.

Tossing a ball into the air idly, she waited to get through customs and quarantine check. All papers were in order, and these men and women guarding the spaceport weren't about to stop her even if she was armored and masked. A quick application of the Force, a mind trick or two, and she was into receiving. Flights to other planets in the sector had been delayed with the ongoing fight between the Galactic Alliance and whatever faction of Sith or enemy combatants that had appeared to fight.

The ball flew up into the air again, landing squarely in the palm of her hand. She had no idea that there were diplomatic talks going on between the planetary government and [member="Rozalyne Kurganova"], but if she had known, what she was about to do was going to strain those terribly.

The ball flew into her hand again, but this time it missed her hand and rolled along the floor into those sitting, waiting for their flights to be freed up. A young boy picked up the ball, looking around for who had dropped it. Eldaah sat down at her spot to watch the chaos that was about to unfold. There would be no mistaking what she was about to unleash were affiliated with. She reached out with the Force... and crushed the ball the boy was holding. The ball exploded into a large cloud of dust that engulfed the entire waiting area, the sounds of coughing and hacking filling the air. But it wasn't just dust.

Between the coughing and hacking of those around her, screams and cries of pain joined in... turning swiftly into screechs of the creatures she had helped create. Slythghouls. As the first of the transformed victims emerged from the dust, she gave them a simple command between the pheromones and the dark side: Turn everyone you sense. As they skittered and leapt out of waiting, and into the spaceport proper, she gave a smile behind her mask as the screams and alarms filled the air.

She pulled another ball from her belt and started tossing it lightly into the air.