Junction The Great Battle of Coruscant | Second Great Hyperspace War | Junction of GA-Selvaris, NIO-Raydonia, BotM-Shihon, SJC-Myrkr, AC-Ventooine

[Gallius Orcana]

S H O W _ O F _ F O R C E


AZURE HAMMER COMMAND
FIFTH FLEET

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER

ALLIES | NIO | HHA | GA | NJO | SJC | AC | TE | Albrecht F. Herlock | Constantine Oliva | Atlas Drake | Qellene Tyliame | Leon Gallo | Relynia Sorrene
ENEMIES | BotM | Tu'teggacha | Aldo Garrick | Marlon Sularen | Mith'arn'oura | Isabella Pavan | Dyans Keto

LET LOOSE THE DOGS​

Coruscant was a magnificent planet. For so long, Gallius had longed to see the Core, ever wondering if the ambition of an Imperial Anaxes would be realistic. For long, the ambition had been but a distant dream. For now, it was a project well-hidden behind the cries of war and the smoke of burnt-down houses. House Haskler knew its place and had decided to postpone its ultimate ambition and dream to serve a greater cause: the cause of the Empire. But in the future, after the end of the feast of violence and death, an opportunity would arise. The possibility for Julius and his men to come back to Anaxes. And he, Gallius Orcana, forever the bloodhound, would have no place in this world of peace and cultural development.

He had been bred for war. He had been programmed to rejoice when he spilt blood. He disdained food as a vital element of life. And each time he remembered this, also came to his mind the unrestricted discourse of his instructors on Bastion.

A litany arising from nowhere. A magma of words, prayers, incantations. And, in the midst of this folly, a distinct voice, sharp like a scalpel.

"Some need food to survive. But those are weaklings.
Some need water to live. But those are defective.

You only need smoke to survive. For you are paragons of His will.
You only need blood to live. For you must purge yourself of weaknesses.

The unrestricted fury of life,
The unbridled enthusiasm of death,
The unchained violence of amoral desires,
The liberty to live and kill,
The joy of living for eternal warfare:
This is what shapes us all."

Kneeling in the centre of a court, the aspiring officers were trapped under heavy iron bars, unable to rise. And yet, anyone who was not trying to get up was beaten to death by the instructors. Gallius's heart was racing to sustain the effort he was trying to make. The sole weight of the bar should have broken both his shoulders but still, he was trying to lift it up.

With a "ha!" of pure will, Gallius tried to rise higher than ever. To the "ha!" responded a loud "crack". And with the "crack" came the feeling that his left arm had ceased to exist. Hidden behind a cataclysm of pain, a broken shoulder bloodily connected an insensible and unresponsive arm to a very well sensitive body. Immediately, black spots began to dance in front of Gallius's eyes. As he continued to get up stupidly, the bar fell from his shoulders. Blinking several times, the young Imperial tried to say something. But it was too late. He had already fainted and the black spots had become a black curtain.

Gallius knew what was his place in the Empire to come. Relegated behind a desk in some obscure office, he would stare at his medals for weeks, with nothing left to do but wonder where the good time killing Sith had gone. It was the first step to madness, he knew it. And he was determined to never let this happen. Even if he had to craft a war by himself, the Commodore would continue to fight. For the Empire, for him, for the ever-hungry voices.

TORMENTING MEMORIES​

With a flare and a deep tremble on the whole bridge, the Tormentor escaped hyperspace, quickly followed by his escort ships. The Pride of the Emperor, always there to crush Dark Side cultists, menacingly imposing in its bright-red hue. The Proudheart, a fine dagger launched into the great void of space. And the Eternal Crusader and Imperial Hand, veterans of Csilla’s campaign, providing support for this limited task force, a mere sample of what House Haskler had managed to garner in terms of assets. Truly, the sight of three capital vessels and escort ships exiting from nowhere was impressive, but inhabitants of the Core would recognise the lead ship as something far more terrifying than an ordinary battleship.

The Tormentor was still clad in its Clone Wars-era painting, deep red stripes outlining its superstructure. Towering over the other ships of the task force, it was remarkable for its obsolete look. The hull seemed to have faced a millennium of battles without respite, always emerging victorious. The characteristic look of a Rothana Heavy Engineering-produced warship, added to the name, had been enough to make fleets desert battles. Rumours and crazed legends flew all over the galaxy, trying to surmise what the venerable ship had become. Some said it had been scrapped. Others told dark stories of worlds left devastated behind the trail of a mysterious Clone Wars-era ship.
Yet the Tormentor was not dead but burned for blood and revenge. Like a spectre of the past, the battleship was going to roam the battlefield, in this very orbit where it had clashed with the Invisible Hand and so many CIS ships more than eight hundred years ago. A figure of hope for many, a ravenous silhouette for others.

The fleet rocked and took a few seconds to reassert its course. Within a minute, the five ships were all ready to enter orbit and begin their work. Imperator Fel had been very clear: only handpicked vessels were allowed to Coruscant. But Gallius had dismissed it. He was old enough to make his own decisions, and he had decided to do a show of force over Coruscant. The message was clear: no one, be it Galactic Alliance or even any other Imperial Warlord, was above Gallius. He was now in full control of his decisions. The appearance of the Tormentor there was purely symbolic. Even if it was a force to be reckoned with, Gallius was more interested in its psychological advantage of seeing Core-worlders pale when facing the battleship.

While the task force began entering the inner rim of the system, the Commodore felt that familiar chill in the back, the strange weight behind the neck, the constriction of his forehead. Blood. His heart began pounding harder and harder as he realised what was unfolding. Somewhere, in the dark folds of an unknown future, something was working its way out.

A giant Serpent, eating the Sun, plunging worlds after worlds in Darkness,
The Hammer, the Blade, the Bloody, rising to kill the Dragon.
A long-exiled Child, on his way back home, dark desires at heart.
The promise of BLOOD.

The danger was imminent, and the officer’s mouth dried when he understood, this time, his visions were late. A warning perhaps? A show of distaste from the voices? Maybe. But Gallius knew he had a part to play now. He could not afford to lose time on introverted perspectives when war awaited him. He had to strike in, and kill.

“Captain, place our ships in attack position. War has come, at last, to the Core Worlds. And it is our opportunity to shine and carve a way out in the brightest path possible. The path lies ahead, and the Maw is blocking it.

Full attack using Orves manoeuvre! Deploy us above the plane and prepare to launch the fighters. We will try a catapult manoeuvre once they have gotten closer. This time, we take them to the throat. Scan the enemy elements for record and find me the Fatalis. Or any other noteworthy ship. We have to take them down.

Provide status reports on allied fleets. Make junction with Rausgeber’s vessels and prepare a coordinated view of the battlefield. The Predictor will work on it and forward suggestions in real-time to identified New Imperial and Alliance fleets.

Finally, I want reports on any vessel registered as part of Sularen’s court. Moff Haskler has been especially clear on this target, and I don’t want to lose it at any moment.”

Like an unending flow, orders began to pour out of Gallius’s mind. As a factory, the brain was working at full speed to provide accurate guidance in the madness that was a battlefield. And with the appropriate orders, the task force could become a killing machine.

Seating at the centre of the group, the Tormentor was bound to provide suppressive fire while the Pride of the Emperor and Proudheart would take on the main targets. The Imperial Hand and Eternal Crusader were using the capital ship’s large profiles to keep cover while laying broadsides. It was an improved formation taken from old Anaxsi treaties, that Orcana had modernised himself. Quite proud of it, he hoped there would be enough of his small battlegroup to handle the tide of the Maw. It was Bastion all over again.

The Anaxsi vessels entered the combat zone and began chopping off what came under their claws. With unequalled Furia Anaxes, the Azure Hammer Command would teach the barbarians a lesson of respect they had had difficulties learning on Csilla.

They would learn the price of blood.

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

AZURE HAMMER COMMAND - FIFTH FLEET​

Name​	Class​	Status​	Commander​
AIV Tormentor	Rothana-class Battlecruiser	- Fully crewed, Active	Commodore Gallius Orcana
NIV Proudheart	Valiant-class Star Destroyer	- Fully crewed, Active​	Captain Bel Kiez - NPC
NIV Pride of the Emperor	Cuirassier-class Cruiser	- Fully crewed, Active​	Captain Jax - NPC
NIV Imperial Hand	Caçadores-class Corvette	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant Dek Rakad - NPC
NIV Eternal Crusader	Caçadores-class Corvette	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant Fulthius Rax - NPC​

 

[Konrad Harrsk]

BESIEGED
BORN TO RULE vol. I
Issue #3

The assassins of the Axis of Shadows devote their life to train and prepare for anything, to never be caught surprised, to always anticipate the enemy's next move. But even nothing, really nothing, prepares one for this.

Lightly tapping on the floor of the Hayata Hotel elevator, he did not expect the elevator's irritating melody to be the hymn of the Coruscani skyline darkening to a Maw war fleet. When the doors of the lift slid open to reveal none other than his former classmate at the School of the Carp - Ishida Ashina ; somehow her sole presence was more annoying than the tune ringing behind him. The Ashina heir - heir because Inosuke was as useless as the Jedi he served - was a headache matched only by Auria Blackmoore.

“Oh, you’re not happy to see me again after I saved you?”

"Save...me?!?" her arrogance was as vast as her delusion, clearly. "I--" he shut his mouth a syllable later, the grim reality of an invasion somehow overcoming the insurmountable need to retaliate for his bruised ego. His hand reached to drag her into the lift and show her what was coming from orbit but she didn't bulge. Immovable as the rocks of Suijin's Rage.

A whisper escaped her lips, "Bernard..."

"What the hell is a Bernard?" Konrad growled, unable to comprehend Ishida's atypical shock

"Inosuke!" she snapped nearly startling the young assassin.

"Yes, that is the name of your good for nothing brother, Ishid--" his words trailed off, noticing her eyes were looking through him straight at the apocalypse forming in the skies. "Wait! Where the hell are you going?" he called out as Ishida vanished into a dash out of the hotel.

A moment later, he was after her - a blur in black.

ALLIES | Me, myself, and I
HEADACHE | Ishida Ashina
ENEMIES | He Who Was Lost

 

[Zinn Zinn Bink'sa]

Location: Above Coruscant
Enemies: NJO/NIO/Whoever fighting for the Light Jak Ross
Allies: BOTM/Bombad Sithies Darth Senthral Geiseric
Equipment: Lightsaber​

Zinn Zinn had once more been swept into the makings of History. Something of which the crazy gungan had often had a bad habit of doing. The dark side flowing freely in his veins, even as a lowly acolyte he didn't count himself out of any conflict. From the time of the Warlords fighting in civil wars among the SIth. Now to fulfilling the Grand Plan of the New Sith Order under the leadership of the prophesized Sith'Ari. Now here he had been, strapped to the cockpit of a Sith Shuttle. Carrying a group of Acolytes and Warriors ready to strike upon the ancient foes. Some had even been on Coruscant during the reign of the One Sith. Many of which had sought payback against the Jedi.

"Alrighty Yousa be strapped in Wesa gonna go for a big big bumpy rides!!! Yousa gonna get some bang flasher conflict! Do not fear we bombad warriors bringing dat Jedi down." To Zinn Zinn's words over the comm channel. Many of them were left scratching their heads. Some of them had wondered why in the hell a Gungan was chosen as a pilot. Especially hearing the name binks some tried to get off, one Sith freaking out as if tripping on spice. Trying to release his bindings. "Oh no! We aren't doing this! I don't know about you, but that freaking Gungan is gonna kill us all! You gotta let us outta here man!" One tried to plead to the other Sith only to be met with weird stares and head shakes. As if the man didn't know what he was talking about.

Zinn Zinn spoke with glee. "We all buckly ups? Wesa are? Good!! Wesa gonna kick Jedi ass!" He said with an added sound of his tongue rolling out, as if giving a strange gungan war cry. The Sith that freaked out earlier began to sweat nervously, as the shuttle departed from the Maw capital ship. With the Hyperspace coordinates provided by the wrath of the Maw. It was easy to enter above the atmosphere of Coruscant. Even as the battle around them had turned the skies and the surrounding orbit into absolute chaos. Zinn Zinn barely able to pilot as it was, started to avoid blasts from surrounding capital ships, and enemy fighters. To much of anyone's surprise while piloting in the midst of a space battle the gungan was doing something entirely different. With his hands and to some surprise his feet was piloting. his face was buried into the console of the ship snorting spice.

"OOOO YESSSAAA YOUSA AINT BETTER THAN MESA! YOUSA NUTTHINGS! YOUSA THINK WE STUCK IN THE DOO DOO! MOOOO YOUSA THE ONES STUCK IN DOO DOO!!" The Gungan spoke in a spiced out haze. "WESA TRY SPINNING THAT"S A GOOD TRICK!" He said trying to snort another line of spice letting his feet do all the driving. The craft spinning wildly into the atmosphere. "Ahhhhhhhhhh" The gungan said while his head was spinning with maneuver.

The shuttle rapidly descending quickly, it was going on course towards the rotunda of the Senate building. "WEEE WOOOO WESA GONNA MAKE DA ATTACK RUN!!! WHAT THE F-" Zinn Zinn spoke, as within seconds of his babbling, the craft came in hard, and just as fast. Smashing into the Rotunda, with the wings of the craft breaking off, and crashing with rubble onto the Senate floor. Zinn Zinn groaned... "Ohhh nooo! Mesa think.. Mesa broke me bombad Spine.... Maybe mesa shouldn't do spice while driving." He said rubbing his temples, with his foot slamming down on a button to release his cargo.

 

[Isla Draellix-Kobitana]

Spoiler: Equipment and links

Wearing

Viper mk2 skinsuit under outfit​

Ashlan Rosary​

Songsteel Saber​

Flagship

Hand of Ashla - in orbit​

Accompanied by

4 Praetorian Mk1 droids - painted white with golden guilding​

Tags: Geiseric Eina L'lerim-Vandiir

​

Isla had arrived on Coruscant, pleased to be out of battle but nervously anticipating the accords, there were several tensions amongst the members, with accusations or warcrimes plaguing her recent interactions with the newest Ashlan allies the Eternal Empire. This meeting would hopefully allow her to use her voice to put right accusations against her people and stamp the Ashlan claim as a protector, not a conquerer. There were also people here she would like to meet, the narrowly missed several well respected admirals over Korriban, people that she could learn from. Maybe after this event it would be time to share a tea with a few of them.

She looked around at her escort, her four battle droids whirred away behind her, she had become accustomed to them by now, and their presence was now more reassuring than it was intimidating, she laughed at the admiralities new paint scheme though, sure it was pretty, but it did seem a little garish for machines of war. He other allies were marched along side her silently, what were they thinking? What goes through a Jedi's mind, particularly coming to a place with so much history as this. For her part, Isla hated coruscant, the stratification of class here hurt her sensibilities. Coruscant was meant to be a shiny jewel in the core, but if it was, it was merely a costume piece, beautiful to the outside observer, but scratch the surface and it would lose its appeal immediately.

Lost in thought, it took her a moment to see the others in her group running to the window and heard some shouts of panic, she joined them and her jaw tightened, she recognised the pattern of some of these ships from her briefings... the Brotherhood of the Maw were here. The skies above the sprawling ecumanopolis were darkened and there was a palpable feeling of foreboding. You didn't need to be a jedi to feel the darkness that was descending. She grabbed her Rosary and made a prayer, just as Geiseric ran to the window, she could not tell what he was doing but something bad was about to happen. Her intuition was quickly proven correct. An explosion rocked the building beneath them, throwing Isla aside and ripping masonry from the walls, she felt herself falling and then she blacked out.

Ashla must have been protecting her today as her blackout was brief, she felt a little blood on her temple where she had hit her head. One of her droids crouched over her, checking her vitals. "Admiral Draellix.. it is not safe here... hostiles detected" She heard the sound of two lightsabers igniting as her droids stomped their way toward the metal hull of a crashed ship, was this the ship that just hit their location? The door opened and four crazed soldiers ran our, their eyes burning with hatred and they swung at the droids. Their attacks were crude but they were extremely aggressive. The droids fought and cut them down. "We need to leave here Admiral" instructed the droid, reaching his hand down to help her to her feet. She only counted three droids, one must be destroyed or separated. Standing, she felt OK, a little bruised and dusty, but intact. She thanked Ashla again.

She heard a scream and someone shouting in a language she did not recognise from behind the bulkhead of the ship. Her and her droids needed to move and needed to move quickly. The only way out was away from her previous location. She followed her droids as they led her down a dark corridor, the droids lights were the only illumination here.

"This is Draellix, calling any and all Ashlans, can you hear me?" There was a crackle and a hiss, nothing but static. Either her com was broken or comms were being blocked. The emergency comm unit on one of her droids told the same story. She was on her own...


..In orbit..

The Hand of Ashla saw the incoming fleet as it dropped out of hyperspace, so many vessels of different types were here. The defending vessels were thoroughly Outnumbered. The captain knew he needed time to plan his reaction, and needed to protect his Admiral on the ground. The ship was already in defensive mode, but the most prudent thing now was to cloak and hide until the defenders were rallied. The massive ship shimmered and disappeared from scanners. It would be back.

 

[Ignatius Rausgeber]

THE DUSKY TRAMP
CORUSCANT LOW ORBIT
OBJECTIVE: GEAR UP
The Mongrel

“And in accordance with diplomatic norms,” Ignatius raised his pen as another missile hit the hull of the rusted cruiser. “And in accordance,” He huffed, frustrated as he tried to dictate another line. “I would of course anticipate the amicable treatment of a member of a foreign diplomatic service. Serial number, Exx-Eff, Three-Twenty.” He swallowed, and furrowed his brow, leaning over the hood of the speeder. It had been so long since he’d put pen to paper physically. The handwriting was no where near as neat as it typically had been, back during the Academy on Dosuun or as an adjutant to the Cloud City directorate. And yet, it looked alright. At least to his tired eyes.

“Iggay!” A voice called behind him. Rausgeber seized, and quickly folded the paper up, slipping it into his coat, “Iggay,” It was T’Kerri, the jovial slave driver, adorned in his 'battle armour'. It was really just a few layers of hardened leather, glued and sewn together, but it had worked for this long, why change? “I got you somethin’!” T’Kerri produced from behind his back, a grimy, tattered burlap sack. Ignatius immediately rose an eyebrow to it. “Fer lootin’!” Kerri proudly proclaimed with ah enthused nod.

Ignatius clutched his hand to his breast pocket but shook his head disapprovingly, “I’m not one for your style of… recreation Kerri.” Ignatius coolly drawled. Kerri’s gaze however pondered in his hand, “We are to be thrust into a war zone Kerri. I doubt anyone here has any viable plan to truly loot anything of value.” He then caught Kerri’s stare, “Cut that out.”

“I know Lil Glenn, and Hamish, they got themselves some slave collars. Want to see if we can haul out any commuters we run inta,” Kerri explained, “Then ya got Fast Flik, and he’s got a line on some, arsenal, like a police thing, on the way. So we can haul some scratch there.” Kerri added, but his eyes never darted from Ignatius, “But, more pertinently, whatcha got there Igg?” Kerri barked back, “Clearly it’s somefink important if you don’t want us to see.”

Ignatius sighed, and for a moment pondered it. His decision to confess was made all the easier when he had to swat T’Kerri reaching for his breast pocket, “Fine! Fine.” Ignatius scowled, realising not even physical force could keep the letter from him if he so desired. “I wrote a letter.” T’Kerri chortled, and then the chortling evolved to down and our laughter, “Yes, yes, very amusing.” Rausgeber indignantly glowered, “But,” he wagged a finger at the weequay, “We are about to embark on an attack on the Galactic Alliance. It’s capital, actually.” Ignatius added, “And I will be damned if I am in fact thrown in with your pack of miscreants, and imprisoned or executed when this inevitably turns into a death trap.” He swallowed, “So, I wrote a brief as to identify myself as a member of the First Imperial Diplomatic Service.”

Kerri’s laughter manifested with a big greasy grin, “Ya mental Iggay, if you think those pricks are gonna give you, you a second thought!” T’kerri teased, before reaching and ruffling Ignatius’ hair. The shorter man baulked at the gesture, “Ain’t the First Order dead though?”

Ignatius scowled at T’Kerri. The indignity of it. “While I personally remain alive, and kicking, the spirit of millions of Dosuunian soldiers carries on.” He glared at T’Kerri, eyes filled with a determined anger. Kerri rolled his. “My uncle.” He slammed a clenched fist against his chest, “My cousins. My Mother. My Father. They maybe gone. But so long as I live, the First Order remains.”

T’Kerri eyed him with some confusion, but also amusement and mirth. “They feed you 'at back in your lil spy school?" He offered with a wry smirk, "Mustn’t be so good-a soldiers if they’re all dead.” He shrugged, as Ignatius slumped. The jab landed right in his gut. He could feel it, and winced. T’Kerri was right. Still, as Natasi Fortan would say, ‘keep a stiff upper lip’. He raised his head, and looked at T’Kerri, gaze still intense. The Weequay seemed a little off put that Ignatius had not verbally struck back. “Not that that’s a crack,” T’Kerri mused, “I’m just joshin'. I don’t think these Alliance ponces, are gonna be too eager to give the VIP treatment to some fella whose gonna come in, off a freighter with a pack ‘a mongrels like us, speaking.” T’Kerri leaned in, “I ‘eard a rumour, Rotgut has got us runnin’ security with the Mongrel.”

Ignatius froze, and arched a brow, “The Mongrel, as in, THE Mongrel?” He scowled. Well that was perfect. Just perfect. He had never worked personally for the Marauder, but at this stage, his name and presence were legendary. “You’re joking!” He swallowed, and looked down. Well. Th
ere went any real attempt at escaping. Down just like that. There would be no surrender with a man like him running into the fray. Death before dishonour, or some other callous trope would be thrust upon him. Typical. “Well, I hope for our sakes,” He gave a cautious glance to Kerri, “That this is mere conjecture.”

T’Kerri brushed past Ignatius, and stuffed the sacks in the front cab of the LuchsHai, “Can’t exactly ‘urt our career prospects.” T’Kerri mused, “He rides with us, we give off the boom,” He gestured to the Mongrels Howl, mounted on the back of the LuchsHai’s tray, “And he reckons we do a right bang up one, eh?” Kerri smirked, "Well, I'm gonna get along with No Teef, see if he's bolted on the secondary convertor." He offered a hand to Ignatius, who paused for a moment, before accepting the handshake. "We'll do fine Iggy. We survived Port Sorrow, we'll survive 'is. What's some snot nosed Jedi gonna do anyways?"

"Kill us all in an exceedingly hideous manner, or force us to reckon with our allegiance to a genocidal regime." Ignatius sighed, and turned back to the bonnet. He stowed away the pen in his pocket, and took off the side exhaust vent, a tenuous job given how it had been crudely reinforced with scrap. He began rechecking the carburettor, the brake lines. While not a mechanic himself, he had picked up a thing or two. As he stitched it together, the heavy clanking of a metallic prosthesis against the deck plating came closer. Rotgut was coming.

“Listen ‘ere ya miserable jobbies!” The mangled human snarled. “Up and at ‘em lads, and eyes on me!” Rotgut, as he was called was a portly human. Fat, and thick with rolls. With hideous chunks of plating and some sort of pump on his stomach. The name, came from the fact he had been gutshot, with a flechette, and the wound hadn’t cauterised, turning septic. With infection spreading and causing the removal and replacement of a leg, and his other foot. “We ‘ave us a roight 'onourable guest!” He gestured to the Mongrel, who stood behind him. “You all ‘ave the important job, of lookin’ after Mistuh Prime Rib ‘imself!” The Auxiliaries all stood to sort of attention, albeit sloppily, and gazed in awe at the head of the Marauders. “If you’ll follow me,” Rotgut gestured, before moving across the cargo bay. The vessel shuddering as another blow was absorbed.

“I ‘ave got you,” Rotgut continued. Ignatius eyed him. Feeling a cold sweat, as the man leered closer and closer with his charge, “A fine bit of work ‘ere suh. Got you a crew of my best. Kerri!” He snapped, “Get your boys in ordah! You’ll be takin’ the Guvnah out on a ride today!” Kerri seemed just as mystified as Ignatius, but complied immediately, snapping to and rushing with the rest of the crew of the LuchsHai, moving and standing in a line. Rotgut and the Mongrel stopped just short. “You will, if it is deemed neccessary, give your lives, for this man.” Rotgut barked, “If any of you miserable, feckless lil finks, think you can come back without ‘im, you’re best to just crucify yaselves!”

“This is Kerri,” He gestured to the Weequay. “He’s ya spotter.” He then gestured to the next man, “This is ya gunner, and loader, One Lek,” One Lek being a Twi’lek, with only one of the species eponymous lekku. He wore nothing but a pair of booty shorts, welding goggles, and several bandoleers fixed with both pistols and pistol cartridges around his torso. “And Hammy,” A gregarius Devaronian, who stood in a patchwork of rusted metallic armour and a bucket as an ad hoc helmet “Then ya got Bry on the E-web,” Bry was a shifty looking human, just taller than Ignatius. And adorned with a leather vest, slacks and a greasy bandana. “And No Teef Keef,” Keef was, as the name suggested, a toothless Trandoshan, adorned in the remains of brown a spacers jumpsuit, “And o’ course, on the drivers seat, Iggy.” Ignatius wore his old First Order greatcoat, which he had recently tried restoring slightly, the patches on the arms.

“Right, mount up, and get ready. We ‘ave ‘bout two minutes till show time!” Rotgut then turned, “Rev up and get ready to unleash hell!”

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Outside of the Jedi Temple
Enemies: NJO/Good Guys Romi Jade Dagon Kaze Kirie Saan'an Gaelor Aayla Shan
Nearby: Shade of Decay
Allies: Darth Solipsis Bendak Crail

Coruscant... Once this world he had read of during his days as a First Imperial pilot. He read on how Coruscant, grand jewel of the Old Republic, and later the pride of all things that were Imperial. Heavy steps walked along the steps of the Jedi Temple. A man cloaked in darkness, a man neither alive nor dead, something that stood in the limbo inbetween. A man that once dreamed of conquering Coruscant, to see First Imperial flags reign across the galaxy to see the vision of a new Empire to rule across the galaxy. A dream that had carried Kyrel even in his darkness to think that his ends would justify the means. To follow in the footsteps of Kylo Ren and Darth Vader before him would bring about peace. A peace of which would end the tortured soul from within.

Such dreams were that of a child. The First Order collapsed, Kyrel left as a Warlord without purpose, wandering from one master to another. That life ended the moment he was released and cast into Hell. In his last moments before cascading into hell, he had been met by the hand of his Mother. A Jedi who had often tempted to turn him from his dark path, and in his death he was finally able to smile. Taking her hand, and in turn accepting his damnation. He thought that he would have found some form of peace. Instead the Sith had other plans for him, and now he walked the steps of the Jedi Temple as a monster. Something not of this world, an abomination of sorts that only lived to destroy life itself. He was the Wrath of the Maw

Little did the monster know, that in his trek, a ghostly apparition watched from above. Miran Kyrel watched with a tear in her eye, as if the ghost appeared for a moment surrounded by the light side nexus able to give form. Only to vanish as Kyrel didn't take notice. The Wrath of the Maw had gained somewhat of a head start above the invasion force. Having been the one to gain access to the hidden hyperspace route, he took advantage to walk the steps of the Jedi Temple. A path that had been walked by such greats as Darths Malgus and Vader, and now here he was reliving that history.

Something was different in his stride. He didn't carry himself as a barbaric conqueror as he had always dreamed. With his steps carried some feeling of dread, as if something was here waiting for him, be it the Jedi on the inside, or something else. It had all made him feel uneasy. He still walked, with each heavy step he had to discover who or what was within the temple. Something was drawing him here, be it the will of the Force or not. It had seemed that even the monster himself was worried.

Reaching out with the dark side, next to the Jedi as he came closer to the door. He felt someone, someone he thought long since dead. Someone that truly had frightened him. His body visibly shook, as he struggled to enter inside the temple. "No! It can't be him! Not here, not now when the moment of triumph is at hand." He spoke in a mixture of fear, and anger as he slowly entered into the inner halls of the Temple where the chaos was well underway. The time for another Jedi Purge had come.

 

[Darth Interitus]

Location: Senate
Allies: Hidden Sith/Maw Darth Senthral Darth Solipsis
Enemies: NJO/NIO
Equipment: Lightsaber


The time had finally come, The great error would soon be corrected. His infiltration had been short, but Lord Solipsis had been pulling all the strings. Once Interitus had slowly saw a vision of the Sith'Ari rising among the ashes of Exegol to retake the throne of the Sith. To not follow the Rule of One, but something similar to Bane's philosophy. Not to resort to brute strength to rule the galaxy, but delegating that others should be the one to wield that strength. The Sith themselves would rule among the shadows, always bending things according the grand design and vision that Solipsis wielded. Unlike Carnifex who had squandered in his ego, Solipsis reinvented the Sith after destroying them. No longer was it a game of fighting fire with fire, but to win the game through the long con.

Interitus watched, as chaos erupted all around the Senate rotunda. Still wearing the garb of Senatorial representative Kalros Jerrex. He seemed harmless, the frail middle aged man, watching with a smirk. Acting as if he was merely an outsider watching. Perhaps if it all went well, he would not be discovered. He also saw no point in hiding his dark side signature. So many were flooding in, and even much to his surprise that of Solipsis had revealed himself to the Jedi. Be it if he was discovered or not. It would make little to no difference. If all went well, Coruscant could be held hostage by the New Sith Order, if high hopes prevailed Coruscant itself could be used as a bargaining chip, and yet he didn't know what would become of this plan. Solipsis had only told so much, while keeping everything else rather vague.

Interitus only smiled to himself for a moment, watching as battles occurred all around. Retreating closer to his own office, he started to prep his evacuation. Still keeping under the guise of a Senator. If he was able to slip away during the conflict, he could prove to be a worthy mouth piece to Solipsis within the Senate. That's if he could safely navigate his way out of the Senate building without revealing himself entirely.

Some of the things he was taking, were the form of Sith artifacts. When such things were brought up by other Senators, he often laughed and said he liked to collect strange and dark antiquities. Often going into a tangent where he found the Jedi to be fascinating in the strange magic they had wielded. He tried to hurry as much as he could in packing up what he could for his departure, and yet he didn't feel at ease. He felt as if someone was watching him. It had all made him feel uneasy, nor was he sure on how to handle it. He only continued in great haste to pack up his office before anyone discovered his true intentions.

 

[Jacen Nimdok]

Location: Inside Kaigann Fossk’s office
Tags: Auteme Darth Solipsis Romi Jade Kirie Dhalinar Greystar Saan'an Gaelor

One moment, Nimdok had just entered the office of Senator Kaigann Fossk with his fellow Jedi, as part of a diplomatic delegation.

In the next, Kaigann Fossk had snarled something, pulled out a red lightsaber, and attacked the Jedi.

It happened fast. Nimdok’s thoughts turned to his Padawan Aayla Shan , who had accompanied him. “Aayla! Warn the others!” he shouted, even as he felt the searing heat of the Dark Lord’s blade.

His left arm, severed at the elbow, fell to the floor. Nimdok reared back, his own lightsaber activating in his right hand. The viridian-green blade parried Solipsis’ wild slashes, finding focus through the pain of his injuries.

He didn’t recognize the corrupted man before him as the infamous Darth Solipsis, leader of the Brotherhood of the Maw. Even if he had, it probably wouldn’t have made much difference. Nimdok was not a very good duelist. In fact, to his knowledge none of the people here were considered exceptional fighters, except perhaps Romi Jade. This was supposed to be a diplomatic mission, after all, and most of them were diplomats and intellectuals.

His severed arm was already beginning to regenerate, burnt cells sloughing off amid droplets of oozing black blood. Keeping up just enough of a defense to prevent the Sith from dealing a fatal blow, Nimdok plunged into the mindscape of the room as only a dreamwalker can. His fellow Jedi became luminous beings, the Sith Lord a dark shadow over his sight. Nimdok might not be able to attack his body, but he could attack Solipsis’ mind.

But first he had to deal with the kids caught up in this mess. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a flash of Aayla’s braided white hair as she escaped through the office doors, her presence in the Force growing distant as she fled. Then there was the obviously inexperienced Padawan panicking over in the corner. What did he say his name was… ?

“Saan’an! Get up!” Nimdok ordered, half mentally and half vocally, paternal tones hoping to rouse the boy. If he would not fight, he had to get out of their way. “Get out of here! Now!”

There was no more time. Nimdok turned his full attention on Solipsis (whom he hoped was preoccupied with the others) and slammed into the Dark Lord’s mind.

 

[Qellene Tyliame]

[Flight Officer Qellene Tyliame]
[Revenant Squadron -- Callsign: "Revenant Ten"]
[REC-AI01 A-wing Interceptor]
[Wingmates: Leon Gallo , Tren Chaar , Dani Stellaris (I think.) ]

She should have been brave. She should have displayed every ounce of her determination, Ignited every bit of her anger and thrown it the Brotherhood’s way. But instead, Qellene’s face warped into a terrified mess of Fear, of Pessimism, of Regret. Her blood ran cold, temperature dropping by the second. With it, her composure grew ever more brittle, till it was ready to shatter at the mere sight of the enemy. Despite her training, recovery never seemed an option.

For there would be no bravado in this battle. Too much was on the line for anyone to simply lie their way toward a feeling of strength.

If Coruscant fell again, as it had so many years before, the Alliance would fall next. The Brotherhood of the Maw would finally have its sadistic way, would manage to top the monstrosity of Csilla’s destruction. They would continue until every planet in the galaxy was a shriveled husk of unrecognizable organic matter, and until the cries of their populations were silenced. For that, they had to be stopped, at whatever the cost. For whatever the price, the Brotherhood had to pay, and had to crumble.

And if they didn't... Qellene didn't know what she would do.

“All flight personnel… Report to stations immediately. Stand by to launch,” The voice repeated again, and again over the hanger’s intercoms, loud enough to force its way through the clouded mixture of background noise, Loud enough to keep each pilot rushing to their fighters amidst the distant screams of sirens.

Qellene jumped off of the small repulsorlift cart that had ferried her through the hanger. In the sudden scramble she almost twisted her ankle, her foot only a matter of inches from a tangled mess of loose equipment. She didn't notice. Kept racing for her wedge-shaped interceptor. Her feet lifted her from the ground quickly, hands taking desperate hold of the starboard-slung ladder while she scrambled into the cockpit. The ladder, on its small wheeled base, slid out from underneath the A-wing. A second later, the canopy began to crawl to a close. Checklists began simultaneously. Atmospheric thrusters. Maneuvering jets. Impulse drives. Life Support. Weapons control. Qellene flicked switch after switch with status update after status update. Not once did she halt her progress to breath, to rest her mind. For another long few seconds, the stress built...

And released in one loud exhale. The final item-- Inertial dampeners-- had been checked off. For that, the Pamarthen allowed herself the moment to recollect her composure, and to secure her hold on the interceptor's yoke. In those moments, she allowed her breath to flow consistently once more. In those moments, she resigned herself to whatever fate was to befall her.

Kothan Si…

Qellene felt the engines igniting, awaking her fighter with a sharp jolt and a continuous stream of low humming. To enter into the localized harmony, the VTOL systems produced an elegant whine, though quickly drowned out when the A-wing sped from the terrestrial hanger’s mouth; Drowned against the loud whoosh of air meeting durasteel.

Her bravery died once more when she realized that the sound was also being drowned out by the screaming of men, women, children; The horrific screeches of metal grinding against metal; The booming explosions; The cut-short communiques running through her coms systems. The invasion of Coruscant had begun. Despite the hopes that the Alliance Defense Force could shield their civilians from the flames, The Brotherhood had rained down. And they showed no signs of stopping.

The flight officer ignited a quick transmission.

"Revenant Ten. Standing By."

And lashed out at a Brotherhood shuttle.

 

[Lord Letifer]

LETIFER | NEW SITH ORDER
KILL Dagon Kaze , All Jedi


PEACE IS A LIE​

At last.

After decades of misrule, pretentious justice, and the grand illusion that was democracy, the Sith had returned.

At one time, the Empire held the galaxy by the throat but they faltered after striking the first blow. They faltered and worst of all hesitated, they allowed themselves to grow fat, bloated with power while blind-fully serving. There was no evolution, no growth. They hit their plateau and by no surprise were devoured by Schism and Rebellion.

They had been easy to purge, their ranks feeble compared to the New Sith and their creed. He took delight in watching their Empire and their Worm Cult crumble into dust. Such was the way of the Strong, to crush your enemies and see them driven before you. With their demise, with the New Sith Order’s victory of the Schism came the final obstacle to the Grand Plan made clear.

The Jedi.

They planted the seeds of doubt and deceit, tended the embers of war, shifting accusations all to lure the New Jedi Order into a vulnerable position. The vigilant defenders of truth and justice had been the most steadfast rivals to the Brotherhood of the Maw and the New Sith Order proper since their emergence from the depths of the Unknown Regions. Long have they waited for this moment, this chance to surgically strike their enemy. To destroy them once and for all.

The time had come.

Letifer ignited his crimson saber and guttered a bellowing roar beneath his vocabulator. The Dark Lord of the Sith spoke with a voice beyond that of the mortal plane, a beckoning tongue akin to that of the Divine, such was the tone of power. He charged at the Dark Lord’s order, the Jedi would soon be dead. His eyes immediately honed in on the image of Dagon Kaze , fire running in his veins as he advanced.

Nothing would stand in his way, he would cut down any before him.

At last they would have their revenge. At last he would have his revenge.

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

POST #1
OBJECTIVE 2: BASTION ACCORDS BESIEGED
WOAD_RETRIBUTION

ALLIES (NIO): Willan Tal Keilara Kala'myr Konrad Harrsk

ALLIES (SJC/GA/AC/OTHER): Leon Gallo Eina L'lerim-Vandiir Geiseric
Isla Draellix-Kobitana

ENEMIES (BOTM/NSO/TFD): Zinn Zinn Bink'sa Darth Interitus

ERSKINE'S LOADOUT
PRIMARY WEAPON: FRAGARACH DISRUPTOR-PISTOL
SECONDARY BLADE: BASKET-HILTED VIBROSWORD CLAYMORE

RAGING AGAINST DARKNESS: THE LORD-PROTECTOR'S ESCAPE - PROLOGUE

​

LORD GOWRIE'S COTTAGE,
CAMP RIORDAN, TUATHA,
GALIDRAAN III
TWO DAYS BEFORE MAWSWORN ATTACK....

'Good ti see ye, Barran.', Lord Aron started, pausing so he could open the door to the old friend he saw approaching from downhill, in the one place Gowrie could escape to for peace, quiet, and time alone to train. Both individuals had recovered fully since their previous encounters with the Obsidian-Heart military hospital, and were both meeting for one reason and one reason only, to have their duelling rematch before Barran left for the next Bastion Accords Coalition conference, before politics and war could keep them from answering the burning question between them. The official win/loss record between them was tied at 2-2 apiece, and though none would ever know how their third fight had concluded, it would be enough to give both swordsmen closure in their attempts to defeat the Mongrel once and for all, knowing which of the two had the greater advantage over the armoured Mawsworn commander by the time their own duelling-saga met it's epic conclusion. Lifting his new cavalry-sabre from it's place by the front door, the Kellas stepped out and shook the Stormchaser's hand, then muttered,'Lets get this show on the road, shall we?', in the most calmly tone Erskine had ever heard from him.

'Aw'right then, winner fights the Mongrel next. Loser fights the Mongrel after. Fair?'

'Fair.... An' before we begin, good luck in yer next campaign. It's gawnty be a belter, an' that's nae joke by the way.', Lord Aron responded, cutting himself short as he stepped out onto the cottage's front courtyard. Lord Erskine's silent response would be a cursory nod of appreciation for the well-wishes in the wars to come, and a slight head tilt that indicated he knew Gowrie wasn't joking, silently mouthing,"Korriban.", in kindly recognition of what the Kellas, and the Wildcats, had to endure there. Barran would never know, but Gowrie needed that recognition and praise more than he could've ever guessed himself, and whether the end result was a win, lose or an inconclusive draw, the Kellas' future wars would be fought with no resentment carried against the Stormchaser going forward. Then, with his back facing the village below, Gowrie drew his new blade in a slow, meditative motion, concluding,'Pooooise.... Set guards - BEGIN!!!!', with the disciplined cadence of a duellist of a classic fashion.

'SINN'SEARAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANN!!!!'

RAGING AGAINST DARKNESS: THE LORD-PROTECTOR'S ESCAPE - PART 1

SENATE DISTRICT,
GALACTIC CITY, CORUSCANT
HOUR ONE....

'What the blithering hell happened?'

Complete sensory mayhem had ensued before Lord Erskine could have his say on the tactical situation, intending to impart what he hoped would be valuable to the coalition's war effort, only to have another explosion cut him short before taking the Galidraani podium to speak; much like a previous encounter, though the Stormchaser was gladdened by the fact no pain or lasting injuries had been inflicted on him, and that his inability to properly shield his Lord-Protector had proven to have benign consequences. Sighing with relief at this outcome as he tried to shake the disorientation out of his head, General Barran would make an effort to pull himself up from the floor as he responded,'Just - ah, feth! Just like Fort Imperator, but we were lucky this time! Speaking o' which though, we need - oo-yah karker, man! We need to get the kark out o' here before the real chit hits the fan!', wiping the dust from his eyes with his free hand as the screams, blaster-fire and explosions continued elsewhere.

'What are your orders, Milords?'

'Ready up! We're making oor exit through the southern entrance, going out the same way we arrived, understood?', Barran barked out his orders and early plan of action, rounding on the first Galidraani DT who stepped up to listen. Receiving a confirming nod in reply, Lord Erskine would see the understanding trooper give hand signals to the other three as he unclipped his SA 65's shoulder-sling, overhand-cocking and consequently chambering the first disruptor round as the other three followed suit with slings and chambering motions in turn. Both Lord Erskine and Lord Tal alike would take this as their cues to draw their Fragarach Model disruptor pistols, with Erskine drawing his pistol from the right with his left hand so he could draw the basket-hilted claymore as well, and with everyone readied for fighting their way out if necessary, it was time for the small Galidraani delegation to withdraw from the heavily embattled Senate District. Turning back one last time as he led the other Galidraani towards their exit, General Barran would smirk reassuringly before concluding,'Right then! Guard the Lord-Protector, keep Galidraan's legacy alive, even with your life if need be! LET'S GO!', as he traversed the stairwell to their allocated podium-stand first.

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

​

Enemies: Maw/Sith
Ingrid L'lerim , Tegan Starfall , Dakrul

Coruscant.

Once the grand ecumenopolis had been the political and economic centre of the Galaxy. Then came the Gulag Virus. Oh, sure, it managed to claw itself out of the Dark Age, just like many other worlds. But it was not the same. Galactic Republics and Alliances still ruled, though none of them was truly galactic. Repeated invasions, counterinvasions and skirmishes chipped away at its wealth. The scars of the Sith Empire's assault during the collapse of the last Galactic Alliance were still evident. Even the New Jedi Order that inhabited the ancient temple had not recovered.

However, in some ways Coruscant had not changed. In Elpsis' estimation, the planet was a dump. All fine and glittering on top, but beneath was a pestilent ruin of crime, decay, corruption and misery. No one had ever fixed it. No one could ever fix it. And the rot started in the ivory towers that rose far into the skies. But apparently the political elite of the planet had found a new cause to rally behind.

"So that's what's going on in the Senate. Sith Rights Movement, huh? The Dark Lord is a nice guy who just wants you to respect his religion, which involves killing people for kicks and 'unlimited power'," she spoke the words with an edge of mocking sarcasm. Sitting in her chair, she propped her boots up on the table.

The Jedi - or ex-Jedi, presumably - did not seem to find the flippant remark amusing. "I don't appreciate japes on a serious matter."
Elpsis shrugged. "World's chit, life's gone crazy. Japing is how I manage. I mean, a Sith cult blows up a planet, then goes on to commit genocide and spanks some of the biggest powers in the galaxy twice. And the 'bastion of democracy' acts like none of that happened."

"Yes," the Jedi nodded grimly. "At first it was an inquiry into the bombing of the Sith Academy on Korriban. Now it's spiralled into...apparently the whole war being put into question."
Elpsis snorted. "Bad chit happens in war. It's not a leisurely stroll through the park where the bad guys stop being if you ask 'em nicely. If people committed crimes, shoot them. And focus on the damn war. Anyone And anyone who says fighting the Sith is wrong is dumb or a collaborator. You lot didn't have much in terms of leadership anyway, did ya? No ROE?"

"No. First we were led by a kid with self-esteem issues. Least he was a fighter. Then he passed the buck and ran off. Now it's a pacifist. Well-meaning, but naive," she shrugged. "I quit when I learned I was under investigation." Just like any Jedi who wanted to leave could.
"Didn't turn in your sabre."
"War's not over. The senate doesn't actually care about the truth any more than it cares about the dead Chiss or Shi'ido. Or about upholding the law against vigilantism. The timing is no coincidence.
"No, it's not. So...how many senators you think are on the Sith payroll?" Both the Republic and the original, post-Gulag Virus Alliance and their respective Jedi orders had had problems with traitors, after all.

Whatever thoughts the Jedi might have had on this matter were cut off by a sound akin to a thunderclap - except far louder. Elpsis felt a strong wave of death, dread and terror. It was all the warning the Force gave her before the room was rocked by explosions as bombs fell from the heavens. She had just about enough time to call upon her inner flame.

Rubble fell, the window was smashed, and smoke and dust billowed upward, clogging the air. Elpsis coughed violently when it invaded her lungs. Further explosions could be heard in the distance, along with screams and blaster fire. Blood streamed down her head from where she had been struck by shrapnel.

The pain focused. She stumbled upward, still coughing and through the Force pushed the choking smoke away. The injury in her leg flared up, and she grit her teeth. Coruscant was being invaded - again. Been there, done that. This was familiar; this was something she understood. What she lived for. It was not lust for glory that drove her. Or honour. Or vapid, idealistic notions about being a hero. Just duty.

What she lived for. "You ok?" the pyromancer still sensed the Jedi's life force, and heard her groan.
Their eyes locked. "The temple," the ex-Jedi gasped, sensing the outburst of violence through the Force.
"A trap," Elpsis surmised, stating the bloody obvious.
"Why strike now? The Alliance was doing the Sith's work for them. This will only unify it."
"Too good a chance at slaughter to pass up. Sith love that. Doesn't matter now."

"No, it doesn't. I'm going back. Not my order anymore, but it's the right thing. I'm aware it's not your fight, so..."
"It's not. And honestly, I don't give a crap about the Alliance or Jedi - NJO, SJO, or whatever label they have. I do care about protecting innocent people and killing Sithies." Still a bit shaky on her legs, she rummaged in a fallen closet, until she'd found her armour and gear.

 

[Dani Stellaris]

Finally.

This is what she needed. It had taken how long since she was piloting a combat mission? She was prepped in ready, Mack in his slot behind her and the squadron flying. She’d known of the fall of the first Alliance, with the Jedi and the Sith at odds around Coruscant. Master Starchaser and his team. The former was off world but she heard they were making their way here. Now, though, she was deployed, and already behind the controls of her X-Wing.

She was a patriot, they were not going to lose the capital. They were not going to lose the Alliance.

“Rev 6 primed and ready.” She heard the tweet from her astromech. She was already launched on Alert, but now? Now she had a calling, now she had a mission.

Now she had targets.

The woman who went by Revenant Six, and sometimes called Frenzy was more than a little giddy. “Got your back Ten, take it to them!” Her X-Wing could take a few extra hits and she fell through the chaos to back up the A-Wing.

Qellene Tyliame Ben Thano Tren Chaar

 

[Yula Perl]

​

"What do you mean that I'm not authorized to enter?!"

Something had been brewing on Coruscant. Something that had left them all a little uneasy. Before that something came to a head, Yula had left the Jedi temple to get a smoothie. She'd returned just in time to bear witness to the chaotic lockdown, and was now arguing with a security officer who was being too cagey for her liking.

"I was just. Here. Since when did the NJO become all exclusive?" They'd never had a problem with her before, or so Yula had thought. Perhaps Dagon's influence had something to do with that, but as the comm in her ear crackled with the raven-haired Jedi's message, it was rapidly becoming clear that the objective was not to single her out.

"Nerf herder!" She hurled her swingin' arm at him. Punching a man with a gun wasn't a good move, which was why she'd hurled her smoothie at him in protest. By the time the guard had wiped the triple berry mango passion slush from his visor, Yula had disappeared.

Allies | NJO | Dagon Kaze | Jax Thio | (whoever else tagged me)
Enemies | Sith and probably the government | Maestus​

"GO!"

Yellow and red, amber and crimson--the two sabers were in a deadlock. Yula shouted over her shoulder while grunting under the weight of the Sith Knight's exertion. Sparks dashed from the collision of the two blades, leaping onto her face and his visor. She was so close, enough to see her reflection. Strangely, the masked opponent reminded her of the guard from before. If only launching a smoothie at a Sith would have been enough.

"I SAID GO!"

Her voice echoed violently through the narrow passage, urgency and all. There was no time for tact here. She and an NJO Padawan had been guiding a group of younglings away for evacuation. He was what, 14? 15? Pretty brave, maybe a little too stern for a boy his age. Maybe it was just the grim reality of their situation that had made him so dour. If she had to yell at him one more time, Yula was going to lose it. Thankfully, he took the signal and lead the younglings down another one of the twisting, winding passages.

As soon as the last of the children disappeared beyond the threshold, she broke away from the stalemate. Her blade met his own again, this time sooner, so the two weren't as close--and forced him away and to the side with a parry. Her wrist flicked on an instinct to follow through in a riposte, driving the blade through his chest. A tense pause froze the air between them, then he dropped to the ground.

Yula was about to catch up with the others and bring up the rear when she paused on the precipice of her own descent down the narrow staircase. She huffed and smoothed the dark, matted strands of hair from her face.

How many more of them can there be?

 

[Black Mynock]

Return of the Jedi vol. I
Issue #3 - The Battle of Coruscant
Darth Interitus

Upon his arrival at the Senate District, screams greeted him.

Not the usual reaction. A quick look across the District clued him in to reality.

After a few steps, the Mynock's head raised to look up into the sky.

Momentarily frozen, he was unsure how to proceed. To turn back, or to go forward. He was no longer a Jedi, not since Ziost. And he had sworn to never engage in another large scale battle if he could avoid it. Mass deaths, sacrifices, rituals, the lives of friends and comrades being taken. Taking life, it was... Not what he had expected when he had first come to the New Jedi Order. But he supposed, it was what he had avoided after the first Core Alliance's dismantling.

Flames were in the sky above. Panic was around him.

Keeping his senses closed off to the point that he was practically concealing himself, it was easier to focus - and ignore - people that would've needed the past him. Fleeing, was likely safer and him saying it aloud was not going to make a difference. He was no shepherd, and so far, there was no immediate battle in his proximity to take his attention.

If there had been, he probably ignored it as he joined a cluster of people rushing into the Senate Building. Probably for protection or some secret getaway.

It being his first time in the building was not lost on him. The majesty and appeal of the interior was a vision that had not graced his sight before. It was ignored. The one that had forced his friends into their predicament was here. The supposed Shield of the Jedi, who gave the order for her people to be locked up.

Just in time for an invasion force to descend on the planet.

Convenient.

His arms shot out to catch someone running past him, hemmed up by the fabric of their clothing. "Where's the Chancellor's Jedi Associate? Auteme ?" The end of the question led to his broadening his metaphysical horizons. His senses bounding off the hundreds of beings in panic in order to locate the Council Member.

There were beacons of light, that much he could sense. But darkness in other parts of the Senate.

"Forget it."

Without waiting for an answer, the Black Mynock released the diminutive near-human, and pointed his wrist up to one of the upper levels. Firing off the fibrecord cable, the armoured figure was snatched from his feet, and was quick to throw himself up and over the railing as the launched projectile was dragged back into its launcher.

The Force.

He thought, head snapping from side to side before he looked ahead of him. An open doorway saw a man rushing back and forth past the open doorway. Artifacts of the Force in his hands. Got the Senate trying to kick out the Jedi, and here's one fawning ove- What is that? The feel of a dark artifact was unquesitonable, and he strode forwards, straight through the doorway to eye the Senatorial garb of Darth Interitus .

He could ignore it. He was of half a mind to. But Dagon Kaze had warned him of the Sith infiltration of the Senate. Dark Side artifacts? He was right.

"Reveal yourself, Sith." His hands traveled to the pair of sabers nestled in the small of his back, but the Mynock did not draw them out yet.

 

[Cadere]

Location: Senate District
Equipment: Single Blade Lightsaber | Mantellian Vambrace | Commlink
Allies: Darth Insatious
Opposition: Shai Maji | Aerith Krayt | Zoraya Ives-Ayres

The battle raged, the fear, anger, pain and death fed the Dark side, Cadere could feel its strength grow and smother the planet Coruscant. He understood now, understood why Insatious had brought him to this battle - all of this was still training, a test to gauge the Dark Jedi's development. Not only that, but to also further immerse himself within the Dark side, remnants of Cas remained within Cadere no matter how much he believed he'd separated himself from his former life. It was understandable as to why this test was required.

Screams and cries filled his ears as the Dark Jedi roamed the streets, crimson blade ignited as he killed any armed opposition that got in his way. He knew what he had to do but was unsure if he had the strength to do it... to further engross himself within the Dark side, Darth Insatious ordered his Apprentice to, amid the chaos, take the lives of the Coruscanti civillians.

Blaster fire and thermal charges echoed around him, but what drowned it out was panicked screaming nearby. Like a predator, Cadere's head whipped in the direction of the cries coming from the inside of a diner's broken window. He paused, inhaling through his nose as he steeled himself before moving toward the half destroyed diner. As his front leg reached inside, the cries quieted, and after fully entering inside they came to a stop completely. Men, women and children were all huddled together in front of the counter ahead of him.

The sight of his droning lightsaber struck fear within every single person in that room, he could feel it all at once, washing over him like a wave. "Please... don't..." a woman said shakily, she was cradling two little girls, one would assume were her children. The mask Cadere wore was expressionless, but the face behind it was anything but, the Kiffar's eyes, laced with sympathy and hesitance, stared directly at the innocents in front of him. The Dark Jedi's clutch hardened around his lightsaber and his lips tightened as he fought within himself, Cadere knew he had to take these lives to deepen his connection to the Dark side but... he couldn't. Cas Tynen had more bearing on Cadere's actions than he'd initially believed it seemed.

As he stood there, at war with himself, Cadere could not help but feel the presence of his Master nearby - and it grew stronger every second...

 

[Karlist Rax]

NIV Menace
Coruscant Orbit
OPERATION IRON THRONE
New Imperials: Gallius Orcana | Culas Vile | Albrecht F. Herlock
Galactic Alliance: Atlas Drake | Constantine Oliva | @Qellinne Thyliame
Maw: Marlon Sularen | Aldo Garrick

The bridge of the NIV Menace was a rush of activity as word came to process what was occurring. "I must be frank, I never thought I would see the day." Karlist mused, looking out over the sprawling world beneath him, and then the fleets in the distance. There was something about it. The beauty of it. The true gem at the centre of the Galaxy. Of course whenever Karlist's mind wandered to Coruscant, he was in these fantasies a conquering champion. For either the First Order, or now Prefsbelt Command. Evidently, things had changed. And now, he was to enter the annals of history. A defender of Coruscant, a prestigious honour very few lived to see. "And under these circumstances too," The Fleet Admiral conceded. It was meant to be the Grand Admiral, or Admiral Regent here instead of him.

"Communique sir, from the Sovereign Imperator!" A Pa'Deshi ensign barked. Karlist raised a brow at the ensign, "He orders our immediate assistance to Alliance forces in order to dislodge the enemy from orbit." Karlist nodded and pursed his lips. This would take a great deal of skill and or time. And it seemed that they had neither at the moment.

"Murray," He called to one of the deck officers, "Get me a caf would you? Black, no sugar," He allowed a small smirk, "As you know I'm sweet enough. Please." The fellow First Order alumni scurried off, "Clarence," He nodded to the Communications Officer, "Prepare a line to the fleet commanders. Get a hold to any Alliance forces in orbit. See if they have some strategem we can follow." He then paused, and pricked himself, "Also try to get a hold of the Sovereign Imperator and his command staff. See if we can organise an evacuation effort." Karlist stalked toward the holographic projector table, and stood to attention as technicians keyed in the various command codes. One by one, the fleet commanders of the New Imperial delegation stood around.

"Alright, gentlemen, ladies," He paused, "We are right now," Murray approached with a cup of steaming caf, "Ah, thank you." Karlist bought the mug to his lips, for a brief sip. "We are to engage a defensive holding pattern until our lovely associates in the Galactic Alliance provide us a plan." Karlist began, "Once we have a strategem in play, we will move to attack position. Lieutenant Vile," The Dosuunian turned to address his fellow officer, "I want you as an offensive formation on the starboard flank. You'll have executive control over a corvette pack to engage as you wish." Rax paused, "What must be remembered though today is that the Sovereign Imperator is currently down on the surface, a the scene of what seems to be a concerted attack." The First Order alumni continued. "Commodore Orcana, you and your Azure group, are to dispense fighters. Some, to be able to clear a potential pathway for extraction of key personnel."

"We cannot, and will not be allowed to fail."

 

[Rannan Kol]

Location: Jedi Temple
Equipment: The Dark Sacraments, Apostles Vestments
Allies: The Maw
Enemies: The Jedi; Caltin Vanagor

---

​

The Maw was ravenous. After their victories on Lao-Mon and Rhand it seemed a forgone conclusion that the Jedi and the coalition of Governments that had opposed them were not enough. There was no stopping the Dark Side, it would consume everything in its path and Coruscant was the juiciest prize of all.

When the doors to the Jedi Temple exploded wide and Shock Troops began spilling inside the Dark Apostle was among them. Moving inside with an alien, almost fluid grace while Troopers and Marauders washed around him on all sides like a tidal wave the floodgates could no longer hold back. He had come with the Maw to Coruscant.

As Kol moved inside of the Jedi Temple his hands had slid behind his back, his left hand gripping the wrist of his right. The Apostles Vestments he wore appeared to be silk, completely flowing but they were imbued with the dark side and capable of protection far beyond what they appeared. Even standing there at the entrance of the Temple the Dark Apostle had a commanding presence yet he was no Sith in the conventional sense but an adherent to the Dark Side itself. As a Marauder, screaming and growling began to rush past him the mere presence of Kol was enough to draw the slathering creature back to him prior to him speaking only a few quiet words...

"Younglings, find them."

...others may have come to destroy the Jedi Order but Kol had come for the future, secreted deep in the Jedi Temple and protected from harm. If he found them the Dark Apostle would devour them, cannibalize them with the Dark Side.

The Marauders that rallied to Kol would rush ahead of him, engaging Senate Guard and Jedi alike with reckless abandon while the Dark Apostle strode silently in their wake. In some cases when enemies came close he would literally step around them, maneuvering like a phantasm until they were engaged by another. On either hip the 'Dark Sacraments', twin lightsabers that he had personally constructed hung unused for the moment; Kol simply had no need to draw them yet nor would he until the time came.

He came to a set of stairs that lead to a higher platform, beginning his ascent Kol had raised his head to survey the carnage as it began to spread out ahead of him while his mind reached out, slithering through the force and all its fluidity like a parasite....​

​

 

[Ishida Ashina]

THE PRIZE DAUGHTER | ASHINA HEIR
CORUSCANT | BUSINESS DISTRICT | HAYATA HOTEL EN ROUTE TO NEW JEDI TEMPLE
LIGHT THINKS IT TRAVELS FASTER THAN ANYTHING, BUT ITS WRONG
NO MATTER HOW FAST LIGHT TRAVELS
IT FINDS THE DARKNESS HAS ALWAYS GOT THERE FIRST,
AND IS WAITING FOR IT

IN WITH THE NEW GENERATION​

Despite her cool exterior, the young Padawan was contending with a foreign sense of discomfort itching at the back of her mind. Peace of mind suddenly felt distant, and hard to achieve despite the blathering of Konrad in front of her.

That unidentifiable knot that had been growing at the nape of her neck for most of the afternoon, swelling into her cranium, erupted only a few seconds before the skies did. It was enough air to whoosh from her lungs and stagger for half an instant. The Jedi Temple!

In an instant, Coruscant’s usually bright blue sky, glittering with pearly white starcutters that disappeared into the clouds, was black.

“Bernard..” shaped the sharp breath she sucked in, and her brother’s name sailed out on her exhale “Inosuke!” Konrad’s sharp-tongued responses fell into the white noise of the hotel’s lazy melodies.

Disbelief replaced every other emotion collected within, burgeoning until it motivated her to action. Swiftly, she shifted from her relaxed posture to forward-motion movement ––intent on reaching the door before panicked patrons blocked her exit.

"Wait! Where the hell are you going?"

Waiting was such an inappropriate action.

“Kill some Mawites!” She snapped back, barely glancing over her shoulder at the armoured Imperial chasing after her.

Outside, one of Hayata’s personnel was staring slack-jawed at the horizon, captivated and terrified by the glow of something huge –– a city on fire –– lit the clouds from below, gold on gray. In their hands, the keys to the speeder the valet had meant to park.

In a discreet, superspeed motion, Ishida plucked the keys from their limp grip and flung herself over the side of the convertible vehicle, slamming against the driver’s side and quickly flaring up the engine.

“Get in!” Konrad might be useful, at least she could trust that he’d be talented enough to stay alive and was good enough at killing that she could focus on helping.

“--a group of unidentified ships!” ​

The speeder’s radio activated as soon as she revved it to life, caught partway through a report. The voice was unnervingly calm and evenly measured as they read through the updates on their prompter for all those who were tuned in.

Ishida changed the channel, and pulled into an active traffic lane, accelerating so aggressively that the shapes and colours of Coruscant's district blurred. Streaks of colours that had once been painted walls were nothing but racing hues alongside them. Like their surroundings, the radio's distressed updates melted into one another.

“--undetected by the radar arrays, getting reports that there is an attack --”

She felt it in her sternum, someone taking a hammer to the bones over her heart. It was to the rhythmic beat of danger, the kind of repetitive thunder that forced her pulse to her throat.

Again, she clicked through to another voice.

“––Air traffic is being severely affected and the debris plume threaten both civilian and commercial craft. It seems as though all targets are concen––” Was that Holly Starstorm ?

Without warning, Ishida veered their vehicle the left, narrowly avoiding an emergency vehicle with a screaming siren that was heading away from the business district. It took a few seconds to right again on the high-speed slalom toward the burning temple.

The frequency changed again.

“The New Jedi Temple appears to be the targ––”

“-- locked up under the investigation from The Senate, The New Jedi Order’s followers are trappe––” ​

All the reporters were using different words to say the same thing.

The Brotherhood of The Maw was attacking The Galactic Alliance’s Capital. Coruscant.

The home of the New Jedi Order. The New Jedi Temple.

“--district being evacuated. The hospitals and emergency medical centres are preparing to be overwhelmed, as I speak, there are fears that the underground might use this opportu––”

ASHINA CLAN​

---

ALLIES | NJO | SJC | GA
FOLLOWING ME | Konrad Harrsk
NOT ALLIES | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | He Who Was Lost

 

[Alora Vizsla]

[ HIYA! NJO | SJC | GA ][ BIYA! MAW ]
POYO! Silver Solus​

Location: Spaaace

Today was a day like any other day. A day where Alora Vizsla, founder, owner, and operator of Wanderlust Wares journeyed to far off places to seek out new gear and new technologies. To boldly go where every merchant has gone before. Because Coruscant had some of the choicest wares to buy, sell, and trade! Like, duh.

Okay, today wasn't quite like every other day. Today Alora had a travel companion! Funny story... there Alora was wondering where she should go when lo did Silver appear and they got to talking. You know, fashion, the Force, exotic places, when the young girl just threw it all out there she'd never been to a proper planet before. Like, manda what? Wasn't a finer planet for someone completely clueless of planets to see than Coruscant, right? Oh, yeah, Alora invited the adolescent aboard and away they went!

So, there they were chillin' on Alora's ship, the Gambit, cruising in toward the Galactic Core. Nice, peaceful journey full of talking and tours of Alora's cybernetics lab -- it was her pride and joy after all. When all of a sudden Alora's bundle of joy popped straight out of hyperspace and into a warzone.

This wasn't on the news! Where was the travel advisory? Where could a law-abiding -- eh -- citizen of the galaxy go to lodge a complaint? This was intolerable.

Fortunately, the Gambit's biggest feature? Stealth.

Unfortunately, the Gambit's weakest attribute? Not being invincible, or phase shifted, or a ghost.

Alora's hands took the reigns of the ship the second the lightshow filled her expansive cockpit. It was actually quite roomy in the control center. Silver might even have been there. The young Mandalorian couldn't really think about trying to calm her companion though -- kind of busy not being absolutely creamed by one of those big ships plowing into them oblivious to their existence.

Okay, maybe not completely oblivious. Mostly. Main engines were still online so they weren't in Total Badass Stealth mode; just Stealth Mode. Enough most probably didn't care because Alora was concentrating on weaving through the nightmare and toward the planet below. This was not a combat vessel. This was the Gambit, not the Stallone.

When they managed to avoid flying straight into a capital ship, or taking a missile intended for someone far more important, Alora finally found the time to talk. "So, uh, welcome to Coruscant. Home of everyone's angst. I think we came on the wrong day, but that's alright." The ship banked hard over starboard. "We'll just, uh, find a nice place to land and... think of something?" Why not fly out into deep space and jump? Well, there was a lot of ordinance flying around. It was only because Alora was such a good pilot they hadn't already been turned into space dust.

Besides, honestly? It was kind of exciting.

LOOT? Armor, Guns, Batons, Ship, Medpacks​