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

[McGill]

Location: Azrael Asylum Hospital, Coruscant
Tags: The Mongrel Ignatius Rausgeber Atticus Draco Keilara Kala'myr Lazarus Sloan Silver Solus Alora Vizsla Raus Garrat Khaostra Devoid Darth Insatious Shai Maji Cadere Aerith Krayt Zoraya Ives-Ayres Ishida Ashina Konrad Harrsk He Who Was Lost Waymar Geyer Ozma Olumivius Alars Keto Nukth Kelga'an Atlas Drake Isla Draellix-Kobitana Darth Tennacus Darth Senthral Heinrich Faust Eina L'lerim-Vandiir Geiseric Sergeant Omen + Open
(I have no clue where most of you are, I'm just tagging everybody doing the second objective, rip.)

The earth shook, rattling the metal bolts holding down the desk and bed inside the windowless cell. McGill grimaced as his neat stack of pazaak cards was knocked over by the vibrations. Now he’d have to start the whole game over…

Shrill alarms went off throughout the building. His game instantly forgotten, McGill stood up and peered beyond the white bars of his room. The sounds of running footsteps and voices shouting echoed through the hallway. Then the familiar smell of smoke reached McGill’s nose. Something was definitely burning.

An orderly appeared in front of McGill’s cell. “Stand back!” they ordered, unlocking the door. The bars shrieked as they slid open, and the orderly grabbed McGill by the shoulders.

“Hey! Watch it!” McGill snapped. “What the hell is going on?”

“All patients are being evacuated for their safety. Don’t get any bright ideas—the planet’s being attacked. We were hit by something, probably a stray turbolaser blast—”

The smell of smoke grew stronger as the orderly pushed McGill down the hall, now mingling with the stench of seared flesh. Other inmates were similarly dragged from their cells and herded toward the exit. The area swiftly became crowded by crazies desperate to get out, beating their fists against the locked doors until they finally slid open.

McGill was vomited forth into the hospital’s fenced-in front yard. It was a gray, overcast Coruscanti morning. On the horizon a grand and important looking building was burning. McGill paused to admire the sight. Sure, it wasn’t very good in the long run for the Jedi Temple to be under such a vicious assault, but a fire was a fire, and fire was always beautiful to him…

“Keep moving!” his orderly demanded, shoving him forward.

“They’re trying to kill us!” someone in the crowd hysterically exclaimed. “They’re luring us to our deaths!”

Not even a second later, chaos broke out in the yard. McGill initially thought it was just opportunists seeking to take advantage of the fear and confusion. But as he narrowly evaded a charging inmate wielding a smuggled combat knife, he quickly realized this was no spur-of-the-moment escape. The “stray turbolaser blast” no longer looked like an accident, either.

Orderlies armed with stun batons faced off against inmates with knives and holdout blasters. Others were left to fight with just their fists, feet, and teeth. Weapons changed hands, keycards were seized, blood was spilled. The air filled with screams and yelling.

McGill punched the orderly who had brought him from his cell in the face and made a beeline for the gate. The asylum was built on a raised platform high above the nearest Coruscanti level and spaced far apart from any other buildings to deter any would-be escapees. But there was a parking lot full of airspeeders he might be able to steal, and probably other vehicles brought in for the evacuation. If he could just manage to get through the gate...

 

[Constantine Oliva]

Spoiler: Pickett Line 253

Revenge
Glory
Raptor
10 Warrior-IIIs

Allies: Tren Chaar Qellene Tyliame Relynia Sorrene Dani Stellaris Gallius Orcana Albrecht F. Herlock Karlist Rax Culas Vile
Enemies: Marlon Sularen Tu'teggacha Aldo Garrick​

The situation was grim. Few allied forces were present, and most that were were well outweighed by the enemy ships. Men looked to the bridge, worry in their eyes. Nearby, the fate of the Galaxy was being decided. The price of victory--or defeat--was being paid in blood.

I stood silent, a rock for those under my command. Data was coming in clearly now, and it was far from looking good.

“Sir,” A young enlistee spoke. “There’s strange vessels heading planetside. I’m not sure what they are. They...They don’t look like anything I’ve ever seen.”

The sensor data made a hologram of the ships descending towards Coruscant. Strange, boxy craft. They didn’t seem like warships, nor like troop transports used by the Brotherhood. I’d only ever seen them in the pages of history...World Devastators.

I made my decision on the spot.

“Issue new commands to the Line. We have our targets. Move into position to intercept and destroy as many of those as we can.”

Orders were relayed, and ships began to move. Cruising at top speed, the Revenge and Glory slowed the far faster Warrior Corvettes. Those stayed in a wide half-circle, protecting the larger frigates. A new communication interrupted the sudden silence of the bridge.

This is Grand Overseer Marlon Sularen of the Final Dawn to the Combined Fleet of the Bastion Accords. The Full might of the Maw has been unleashed upon the Core. Withdraw from this System while you can and you will be spared , resist us and you will be annihilated along with this precious world you have vowed to defend. The Maw cannot be defeated for we are an unstoppable force of Chaos , one that will decimate the Galaxy and purify it from your sins. This is your First and only Warning. War. Death. Rebirth.

The bastard dared show his face. Marlon Sularen, a man I’d once defended. He had the gall to threaten us. The audacity to demand we surrender after witnessing Csilla. I found my hand clenched in rage before his transmission was even finished.

“Lieutenant. Send back a message of my own.”

Aboard the Traitor’s Flagship, a hologram flared to life.

“Sularen, this is Commodore Constantine Oliva. I have come a long way since I helped ambush the Eternals over Bastion. Now you are a traitor to the Alliance. When you’re faced with misfortune you run, seeking another power to hide behind. I’ve lost much in the fight against the Brotherhood. I’ve lost much to your forces. Yet I don’t surrender. I do not give up. I witnessed the destruction of Csilla, an action you took part in. I have sworn an oath to eliminate the threat of the brotherhood, even if it kills me.

Anaxes, my home, and the home of many now fighting you, was once known as the Defender of The Core. I intend to live up to my heritage. And if we ever meet off the battlefield again, it will be because you are in chains.”

My own message sent, I sat back into my command chair. A ballsy commitment, to be sure, but I needed to back it up. A new round of orders was sent out.


“Older all Warriors forward, their speed will let them get into position long before the Revenge or Glory. The Raptor should move to the edge of the system, where it’s safe from enemy fire. If larger enemy vessels attempt to stop the Warriors, Revenge and Glory will move in the way and distract the foe. Our fighter escort will stay with us.”

Wariior-IIIs, Glory, Revenge move to intercept world devastators
Raptor moves away from the battlefield, remains in system
Revenge and Glory prepare to combat larger ships
​

 

[Aldo Garrick]

R E B I R T H

Operation: FINAL DAWN
On Board | Resurrection Class Battlecruiser 'Magnus'
Tag: Tren Chaar | Constantine Oliva​

The Sith cultist stared out into the abyss as his orders were carried out without hesitation, both arms folded behind his back with one hand in another. The Final Dawn admiral watched as the World Devastators branched off and made their descent towards the surface of the ecumenopolis below. A sickening grin spread across his lips, he allowed himself a momentary reprieve from his hardened discipline and emotionless facade. The sight of Coruscant, burning, brought a repulsive joy to his black heart as he basked in the moment. This was a day of days.

"Admiral."

Aldo snapped back to reality, his personal moment of triumph was set aside as his face scrunched up once more and his eyes darted off from the glasteel to meet those of the deck officer before him.

"Speak."

The Final Dawn deck officer was adorned in the trappings of a Sith sympathizing Neo-Imperial, the sharp attire reminiscent of the ancient Sith Eternal's Final Order embroidered with the crisp, clean symbolism of the Final Dawn stamped on each collar and shoulder placement. The man was the image of order, the sweeping depiction of human programming at it's finest as he stood tall before the Sith admiral, only speaking after permission was granted.

"Multiple fighter craft converging on our location."

The Sith admiral scoffed, turning about to face the glasteel viewport once more with his eyes scanning over the great vacuum. He spotted the Alliance fighter craft honing on their location whilst entering attack position.

"They're insane."

His head immediately contorted and his body soon followed suit, a strict postured march forward side by side with his subordinate with his head hung high. The Sith admiral sneered, "Move the fighters to engage. Bring them down."

"Sir! Fighters moving to engage the WS-1's"

"Let them try. It will be their undoing."

Spoiler

Fleet Composition:

Resurrection Class Battlecruiser “Magnus”
Praetorian-Class Star Destroyer “Shadowhand”
Praetorian-Class Star Destroyer “Immolator”
Praetorian-Class Star Destroyer “Chainless”
WS-1 World Devastator “Sissiri’s Wrath”
WS-1 World Devastator “Exegol’s Hammer”
WS-1 World Devastator “Tu’teggacha’s Mercy”
WS-1 World Devastator “Hand of Moridin”
WS-1 World Devastator “Tears of Junra”
WS-1 World Devastator “Mephirium”
Samael Class Frigate “Thronebreaker”
Samael Class Frigate “Beast of Babylon”

Spoiler

Fleet Actions:
(1) Ordered 3 wings of TIE/fd fighters to engage Revenant Squadron
(2) Watched WS-1 World Devastators descend further into Coruscant's atmosphere.

 

[Chimera]

毒蛇
E M B E R S
Adhira Chandra

And then...

It was not meant to be. The shuttle launched from the hidden bay, rushing through the parting doors with its reluctant passenger onboard. A decision had been made, a choice etched into the stone face of time, and the grains of the hourglass began to fall at once. The snake lurking on the other side of the wall, precariously perched along jutting pipe way tilted his head, dead eyes tracking the motion path of the shuttle in its departure. The wind howled this high up, raking at his clothing with each whipping gale, threatening to fling him from the bold path he had found on the outside of the building. That shuttle had launched from further down than he anticipated and it bore no Alliance markings. Curious observations, indeed.

Had he been less experienced, perhaps in his youth, his hot-headedness would have seen him fall victim to the ploy.

Across his opalite gaze, grey lenses sparked to life, overwhelmed by the unleashed tide of smoldering spark until his entire visage was painted in a dancing glow. One hand remained pressed flat against the wall behind him, maintaining his grip on the side of the building, though the chain-bearing arm, his dominant, extended outward into the chasm of space between his position and the fleeing ship. It mattered little if this ship truly was burdened only by civilians or a private party, the chance that it bore his quarry was too considerable for his hesitation. The Force surged within him, blossoming from the tumultuous lake of fire within his core, spreading outward with nothing but the panic and confusion he fed on from the winds around him to fuel the flames. Sparks manifested, dancing devilishly between his fingertips, weaving and flowing like serpents into streaming threads of flame.

The smell of sulfur and brimstone soured the air.

From the vents of his mask, smoke bellowed forth, whisked away by the winds.

More power thrust his hood to his shoulders, giving the gales full permission to whip his bound hair free from its restraint. Despite the strands, his gaze remained absolute, his will unyielding, even as the ship drew further and further away. Within, he nurtured the lapping flames, nursing them to destructive output, inciting their hunger, their strength. The spite of his clan. The hunt of his brother. The rippling fear of the animalistic citizens beneath. Every thought, every action, every memory carried silent strength to his grasp, and in that grasp, lay the meteoric destruction he wielded. The flames grew, erupting into harnessed chaos that raged against his palm and fiendishly devoured the melting flesh of his fingers. He felt no pain, he never did.

No sound of exertion or strain imparted from him, despite the effort he suffered beneath. To launch such a blast with the required speed and distance would take a heavy toll upon him, one he knew well he could replenish simply with a walk down the chaotic street far beneath. It would be worth it to see the Galactic Alliance broken just as the New Imperial Order had been broken. A screaming blast rocketed from Chimera's outstretched hand, squealing through the rippling air like a comet from the side of the building. A blinding fireball launched with lethal precision, dead set on the path ahead of the racing shuttle. It was no more than a foot in length and a half wide, the projectile itself, yet it was not so mechanically simple as to require a physical payload to serve its Master's desire.

An orb of raw Darkside energy, wrapped tightly in a robe of immolation, nurtured to life by a spark from his own essence. It was an extension of himself, thrust unto the breach, and wrought upon his prey sparse few times in his history. He could take no chances, here.

The assassin swayed uneasily, barely recovering his footing on the smoothbore metal he stood on, and watched with almost eager anxiety as the paths of destiny prepared to cross.

His missile struck the shuttle head-on, shattering through the cockpit with enough momentous force to obliterate the metal outright- ejecting debris in mock bloodstream. For a moment, a mere breath, it seemed as though the projectile had stopped. The craft was losing altitude rapidly now without its pilots, but it was not in immediate danger. There was still time for the survivors onboard to leap from the drop door and parachute to safety. Like all things, however, it did not last. The orb burrowed into the craft's heart exploded, flinging plasmic hatred in every direction with enough hellish fire churning in its core to vaporize flesh it contacted directly.

Hellfire rained down, molten metals and hissing debris, the shuttle destroyed completely in the blink of an eye.

A hope, slaughtered.

​

 

[Saan'an Gaelor]

Dhalinar Greystar | Darth Solipsis | Auteme | Romi Jade | Jacen Nimdok | Kirie | Aayla Shan | Metis Athena Elpis​

---

---

“Saan’an! Get up! Get out of here! Now!”

Master Nimdok's one-armed figure was the first thing Saan'an really understood he was looking at. Everything was so abrupt and quick it had put him into a shocked trance. Saan'an knew he should heed Nimdok's orders, run, get as far away as possible. His body wouldn't listen. Fear of the dark petrified every every muscle and tendon, rendering them deaf to his will.

Suddenly, his feet left the ground as he was thrown across the office. Something beyond his own volition compelled him to fly, meeting the ground back first. For several feet Saan'an slid across the tile floor, his vestment fabrics reducing surface attrition.

"Heard Master Nimdok you did! Run you fool boy!"

Tendrils of malicious light strobed, clawed at the small green Master. Saan'an regained control. Scrambling to his hands and knees, he crawled with haste to hide behind and interior wall of the office suite. Breaths came fast and heavy. In the panic, he'd forgotten even how to fill his lungs. Saan'an looked around for a place to run, a place to hide, anything.

"We need to get out of this room."

A voice caught his attention. He listened.

"It isn't just him! They're everywhere!"

Everywhere? It was only then that Saan'an noticed the scene out the window. Only moments ago it had been a routine, mundane, normal. Now it was chaos. It was more than one deception, it was a genocide. All along, Saan'an had unwittingly played into it. He had been used, led to believe he could fix things, only to ruin them. Only to get everyone killed.

Anger and guilt swirled in Saan'an's chest. Fingernails dug intp the palms of his clenched fists. What augurs had he missed? Why hadn't he known better? A Sith Lord. Was it a testmanet to Fossk's ability, or Saan'ans naivety? Others had beat him to the mark of that revelation. Auteme knew. Did the council know? Did Aeris Lashiec know? Why would they all leave him in the dark?

I could have stopped this, or at least have done something if I had known. Right?

Combat began to move elsewhere. From his hiding place behind the wall, Saan'an could hear the Sith flee, hear the communication and departure of select Jedi. He peeked. If others lingered, he could hardly tell beyond the sight of a floorbound Dhalinar Greystar at the center of it all. His heart skipped a beat. My fault.

"Master Morteg!" Saan'an shouted, erupting from his place toward the injured Jedi. There was a pain in his voice that could have fooled the Force itself into believing they were close. Yet, they'd never spoken. No one could be blamed for moving on. There was a greater good at stake, but it was one Saan'an was unfit to serve. An inability that left him behind, kept him with the incapacitated colleage. Saan'an lifted Morteg's head, hemming and hawing as he tried his best to will a healing force into Morteg.

It did little, he was a novice.

"I'm so sorry," Saan'an pleaded, trying in desperation to fix what lighting had wrought.

 

[Isla Draellix-Kobitana]

Spoiler: Equipment and links

Viper mk2 skinsuit under outfit​

Ashlan Rosary​

Songsteel Saber​

Flagship​

Hand of Ashla - in orbit​

Accompanied by​

4 3 Praetorian Mk1 droids - painted white with golden guilding​

​

Tags: Geiseric Eina L'lerim-Vandiir Heinrich Faust

​

The Sith soldiers in front of Isla hissed a word, she could have sworn they said her name? Were they specifically looking for her? That thought frightened her, she had made enemies within the Maw as part the Ashlan Crusade, but who of them would be personally after her.

Her droids sprang into action and levelled their weapons against the soldiers, blowing the first two away before they could even pull the triggers on their own blasters. She was pleased to have these droids with her as they were fearsome combatants. Kneeling behind a large she took aim and squeezed the trigger, it had been a while so the recoil threw off her first burst and it spattered bullet holes above the assailant's head. The Sith looked directly at her, almost through her with eyes that had an intelligence far beyond this soldier's normal means it grinned a wide smile at her and pointed toward her "take her alive" it said, as if being puppeted. It the dropped its arm and looked mildly disorientated as the controlling psyche left it to its own devices. It began to advance on her again, so she squeezed the trigger, this time several blaster bolts blew through its chest and it dropped to the ground twitching. It would dawn on her later that this was the first time that she herself had killed anyone, but right now it was just another casualty in her massive scale wars.

It took a few moments and the room was clear, she looked at her droids, that gaudy white paint job was chipped and pot marked by blaster impacts, now they looked like Real soldiers again.

"Thank you, if you were organics I would be giving you all field promotions to make sure your family were safe after all this, but as you are droids, thank you, and excellent work." Isla said as one of the droids reached down for her hand to help her stand.

"We only...desire to protect you...Admiral. Your performance....assessment is noted"

She smiled and stood up, giving them a salute she continued on with them on their escape. She didn't look out the damaged wall, there was no need to look out there to assume more enemies would be on their way, and if they were looking for her specifically there might be worse than these basic soldiers. There was a further loud bang from the room ahead of her as a missile streaked through the window and obliterated the furniture in the corner, if she hadn't stopped those few seconds to commend her droids, she could have been right in the blast zone.

Even in the encroaching darkness, Ashla Protects.

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

POST #3
OBJECTIVE 2: BASTION ACCORDS BESIEGED
WOAD_RETRIBUTION

ALLIES (NIO): Rurik Fel Willan Tal Keilara Kala'myr Konrad Harrsk Atticus Draco Lazarus Sloan
Raus Garrat Waymar Geyer Nukth Kelga'an Zoraya Ives-Ayres

ALLIES (SJC/GA/AC/OTHER): Aerarii Tithe Leon Gallo Eina L'lerim-Vandiir
Geiseric Isla Draellix-Kobitana Black Mynock Ishida Ashina Silver Solus
Greer Caimbeulaich Cotan Sar'andor Shai Maji

ENEMIES (BOTM/NSO/TFD): Zinn Zinn Bink'sa Darth Interitus Cadere The Mongrel
Ignatius Rausgeber He Who Was Lost Khaostra Devoid Darth Insatious
Aemulor the Hutt Alars Keto Romund Sro

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

RAGING AGAINST DARKNESS: THE LORD-PROTECTOR'S ESCAPE - PART 4

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

'Just like the old times, eh? like back in the academy.'

'Couldn't have put it better myself, Milord.', Erskine responded, smirking with a hint of pride in his demeanour, nodding appreciatively before turning to his Imperator to nod affirmatives in Rurik's direction also. Little did any of the three know it, but a battle of epic proportions was about to unfold, one such of the likes only Fel had been able to experience in his exponentially-longer tenure as an Imperial; however, the look of complete confidence in the eyes of the Imperator was proving to tell his Galidraani subordinates that they would be in good hands this time around, and it looked to Barran that his powerful leader would accept nothing less but the wildest, most-savage of sallying rebuffs. And in that moment, Erskine believed the reward (as Rurik had so coolly put it) would be the full implementation of Tarkin Protocol on Coruscant if their developing circumstances favoured it, sending the same rushes down the Stormchaser's spine to those experienced in the moment he received his Lord-General's baton; this was it, the chieftain's moment to shine as a hero of the Imperium was upon him, bringing out a wild, chest-beating outcry of adrenal madness from within the very depths of the Woad's soul.

'DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!'​

'MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!!', Lord Erskine continued, continuing to gear himself up for the fight of a lifetime, just like every other battle he was ever deployed to fight before that night. In the following moments, the Lord-General would snatch up his personal comm device and take a quick second or two to frame his message to the Senate district's embattled defenders, taking every trick in the book into account before growling,'All defenders, this is Lord-General Barran of the New Imperial Order! If you're within the Senate building, hold your ground and remember what you're fighting for! If you're scrapping farther afield within the Senate district, engage rear-guard actions all the way back to the Senate Building itself! CORUSCANT STANDS!!!! CIVILISATION STANDS!!!!', set to go out on all frequencies by the time the authentication had been finalized. When all was said and done for the first part of their defensive efforts, the Stormchaser's eyes began to grow bloodshot and glazed over as he let the warlike red mist descend upon his consciousness, giving himself over to the devout tribal-warrior within.

'ARE YE READY FOR A WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRR?!?!?!?!?!'

With the rallying cry asking the embattled defenders brawling within earshot the burning question, the reply was a staggered plethora of echoing roars and bellowing in reply, with some even going so far to repeatedly slam their rifle-butts into their surroundings, like sports' fans drumming on the very barriers that split them off from the hypothetical athletes they cheered on. Yet the loudest crescendo of collective intimidation upon the attackers within the building would come from all the Imperials in the area, booming out with rifle-butt beats of four, and chants of,'MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!!', with the fourth and final beat being the most aggressively-exerted in their looping pattern of warlike intimidation. The sudden jump in the defenders' morale and cohesion would be felt almost immediately by the lesser-ranked masses of attackers, losing the impetus of their attack almost instantly as a result; and from that moment onwards, marking the start of the true riot inside, as both sides would find themselves struggling for every last inch of the same ground the Mawsworn were previously resolving so greatly to bleed on.

'AAAAAAVEEEEEEEEEE RUUUUUUUUUUUURIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIK!!!!'

Screaming with all his heart, Erskine ran charging into the fray with his Imperator's name bouncing off the walls to herald his part in the bloody, ultraviolent proceedings that were erupting all around the Imperial delegation by that point. All his regret, fear, hatred, disgust and anxiety would be inflicted on the raiders, marauders and fiends who dared take their chances with the Stormchaser in his full, wrathfully-torrential state of fighting flow, one such that not even the Mongrel had faced in their duel. Barran, as according to his urge to adapt to the severity of the situation, was looking to be a different animal entirely that night; from something refined, humanistic and subtle, into something deeply primal, perhaps even primordial as the New-Imperials' rhythm of war grew louder and louder with the ebb and flow of the fight for the Galactic Alliance's Senate building. Rhythm, drums in the deep, rifle-butt thumps of defiance on the walls and tables they used as temporary cover, fuelling that tribalistic nature as the gathering gloom of Coruscant's night sky steadily darkened to a starry twilight outside.

MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!!

RAGING AGAINST DARKNESS: THE LORD-PROTECTOR'S ESCAPE - PART 5

THE NORTHERN MUNROES MOUNTAINS,
THE HIGHLAND REACHES,
TUATHA-HIGHLANDS BORDERS, GALIDRAAN III
TWO DAYS BEFORE MAWSWORN ATTACK....

Taking one last opportunity to see some of Galidraan III's glorious landscapes, the Stormchaser and the Kellas would scale the hillsides behind the latter's private cottage, finding themselves at the Highland Reaches, the southernmost mountainous edges of the Tuath's windswept domains. Although this hike to the borderlands was decided upon randomly, the Lairds' light hillwalking outing would not be endeavoured without preparation, applying every bacta-patch they had in adherence to the spirit of Imperial,"Utrinque Paratus", philosophies before heading out, along with food and more whiskey for the journey to the top of the Lonely Munro. The breath-taking view atop the summit of Gowrie's favourite place to meditate alone would be nothing short of wondrous, especially for eyes that had been deprived of sights like the panoramic scenes of beauty on all sides that awaited beyond, especially for aging, soon-to-be teary eyes like Barran's, and the Kellas was ecstatic that he would be the one to show it to the Lord of the Woads before anyone else could callously take that honour for themselves.

'Almost there, Erskine.... An' when we get there, it is time we talk about specific matters of distant concern - namely, what becomes of us when Lord Willan modernizes Galidraan's armies.'

Groaning with the displeasure of the quickened inevitable, the Woad made comical appeals to God in their mother-tongue before replying,'Aye, an' ah can tell this discussion's been overdue since long before we declared for Irveric Tavlar, but ah must ask that we save it for oor journey back ti Riordan Glen. Can ye manage that, Aron?', catching up to the Tuath's ascent until they were practically walking shoulder to shoulder. They both wanted this, as the chance to gain clarity on it's own was tempting enough for both climbers, let alone the clean air and the views of the lands that marked the southernmost fringes of Galidraan III's polar north in it's entirety, so the General's sudden urge to keep pace with the Colonel's own came as no surprise in the slightest to the subordinate officer. Giving thumbs up to honour Lord Erskine's request, Lord Aron would give his superior some peace of mind before pointing to Barran's left hand side, keeping the tone of their outing amiable in the attempt to direct the Woad's attention eastward to the valley their slow rise overlooked.

'Ah wull, but in any case, better stuff t'talk aboot for the time being. See that doun there? Loch Macalpin, place where oor ancient ancestors agreed to split off in search of their own homelands. The place where it all started for many of our Sinn'Searann - the place where the Woads baptised their sons in the water!'

 

[Ishida Ashina]

THE PRIZE DAUGHTER | ASHINA HEIR
CORUSCANT | BUSINESS DISTRICT | SOME PLAZA
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

"This is not--" , "--your village's cart you're driving!!"

"Shut up." Her grip strained against the durasteel, trills of strain shot from her wrists through to her shoulders after her kick connected. Normally, she would have swung back into her seat but the seat kept moving, spiralling, spinning, so she could only hang on and avoid the wild stab of their attacker’s crimson blade. She writhed in time to miss the puncture to the hood of their speeder, and she gave a grunt of surprise, quickly followed by a growl.

In the few seconds between her kick and the robed mercenary’s launch, things spun way, way, way out of control.

The need to protect manifested, either self-preservation or something more altruistic she didn’t know – a gossamer shield smoothed beneath them –– slowing the acceleration just enough to stop their bones from shattering against the city’s duracrete. But not enough to save them entirely.

With a loud CRuNCH the vehicle collided with the duracrete. Flames rolled from the scrunched-up metal, consuming the entirety of the craft and moving so quickly it had no choice but to combust. The airspeeder erupted into a violent burst of flames, the explosion carrying debris and fire several feet from the point of impact.

Ishida pressed herself against the ground, covering the back of her head and twisting away as the searing blaze of the eruption poured over her back. The shield that covered her body quivered and snapped as fire threatened its composition. Radiant heat pressed against her throat and face and everything fell slightly out of focus. Adrenaline flooded her blood as she was assaulted by invisible pain on every square centimetre of her body, and she squeezed her eyes shut to will it away.

That was the second speeder she'd driven that erupted into a ball of flames. Stupid Konrad. He hadn' t been wrong about the Hebo vehicle situation. He wasn't right. But he wasn't wrong.

Once the pain was under control, she could hear again: Shrill echoes bounced around her head, intermingled with the sounds of sirens and shouts.

Situational awareness came quickly after that, and she opened her eyes again. Through the haze of the explosion, she could faintly see Konrad. Nothing looked broken. But more alarmingly, she could see their attacker.

Her eyes narrowed, and she frowned deeply. So he’d followed them down –– It hadn’t been enough to down them, to disable their trajectory to the temple. He was thorough enough to see to it that the job was finished.

With a sneer, she spat out the warm coppery taste that had started to pool at the back of her mouth and pushed herself to stand.

​

Once she was up, she was moving.

Hesitation is defeat. ​

She would charge first. Give Konrad the time to right himself, and take advantage of whatever disorientation their attacker might have been experiencing. She’d push through the aftereffects of vertigo, gravity, bruising, ash-burns, whatever it was, it was ephemeral. A later problem. As she darted forward, her sabre snapped to her hand while the other reached around to unsheath her Ashina steel katana.

The manifestation of the attack was typical. One she'd practiced often against The Maw, almost unthinkingly delivered, as it had worked so many times before: She planted her feet enough to launch herself upward and down toward the insidious figure. It was the fundamentals of swordsman training to leverage physical advantages before relying on any external benefit (weapon, environment). Her agility and ability to move quickly would likely be a benefit against a larger attacker. It oft' was.

With dual blades active, she swiped down across their right shoulder with the katana; a maneuver to draw out their means of blocking. With the steel's unique properties and incredible cutting power, it was effective for swift disarmament. Which left her sabre to follow up and deliver the wounding blow.

ASHINA CLAN​

---

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

 

[Okkeus Dainlei]

Location: Rooftop Of A Nearby Building
Allies: GA, Jedi
Enemies: Maw, Sith, Khamul Kryze

No more running, no more hiding
They want war? They can have it

The entire X-Wing became shrouded in darkness.

Dagon's Message was left open on the datapad. He was trying to read it over once again, seeing if there was anything he could do. That is why he escaped the hangar in the first place. Not much help you can do when you are trapped inside of the Temple.

But the severity of the situation made his entire body chilled to the bone.

Through the open cockpit of the stationary X-Wing was a all-but-perfect view of multiple ships decending into the lower atmosphere. Starfighters and drop ships began to pour out of the large vessels. There were hundreds of them.

The man sat frozen in fear, shock, and disbelief. No warning had been issued to the Jedi, no announcement had been given to the Defense Force, no call for help had been sent to other planets. The Maw was here, and they had done nothing to stop them.

————————​

Reality soon kicked in when the Maw ships lowered towards the Temple's entrance. He may be one of the only Jedi outside of the Temple's confinement. There was no more time to waist.

Scrambling as fast as he could, the man grabbed his weapons from the ship and slammed down the cockpit hatch. Holstering his pistol and lightsaber, he made sure they were strapped in tight. Slowly he turned towards the end of the landing pad.

The building he sat on was not that high up. A couple stories, maybe. But he had to get down there, and fast. With three deep breaths, the Knight sprinted towards the end of the pad, leaping off. Wind was catching onto his robe as the force was being used to slow his fall.

With a roll onto the ground, and a harder impact then he would have liked, the Knight got up and made a dead sprint towards the Temple. Emergency sirens were blaring off of the distant. More and more ships were coming down, firing onto nearby buildings. People were making a quick escape in the other direction, fearing for their lives.

An Alliance was built on Peace and Hope, not Fear and Destruction. Yet this is what Coruscant had come to.

————————​

Trying to regain all of his breath, the Jedi gazed upon the destruction the Maw had already caused. The temple had been broken into, the doors busted open and damaged. Red lightsabers illuminated the room, giving off an eerie glow. Sabers of all other glows were getting drowned out. Blue, green, yellow, purple, white, pink, all being overpowered by red.

It was a massacre.

Pulling out his own lightsaber, the Knight ignited the weapon. The lone blue glow shined outside of the Temple, to the back of anyone inside. But he wasn't going to let his brothers and sisters be killed by the wrath of the Maw.

With a loud battle cry, the man raced towards the entryway. Unholstering his pistol, a volley of shots were soon given to multiple foot soldiers. They weren't lives being taken anymore. Their fate was sealed.

Nearing the entrance, a horrible sight was laid out in front of his eyes. A large Mandalorian pulled his saber out of a temple guard's chest.

"Nooo!"

Getting rid of all logical thinking, the Jedi fired two shots at the Sith. He knew the armor was made out of Beskar, but at least the attention of the killer would be gained.

"Hey Mando! Have you forgotten your warrior ancestry? Becuase right now, all I see is a man hiding behind armor, not even strong enough to wield a weapon of the Sith!"

It will be long remembered after the end of this battle that a lightsaber can penetrate Beskar, and it will be proven with this Sith's blood.

 

[Rurik Fel]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
Iron Skin | Lightsaber
Saan'an Gaelor | Kirie | Dhalinar Greystar | Auteme | Romi Jade | Jacen Nimdok | Metis Athena Elpis
Darth Solipsis

PROPHECIES
​

The stench of death wad already weighing heavy in the open air by the time Rurik entered the corridor immediately outside the meeting room. They'd slipped right under their noses, as they did on Bastion. But where Bastion was a miniscule infiltration in relative scale, the Alliance had all but been unraveled in its entirety on Coruscant, threatening to slip into the abyss of the marauding Maw. Just as the Alliance scrambled to retort in desperate reprisal, the New Imperials accompanying Rurik ventured through the breach to join the fray, as little in number as they were. Even if this was the Alliance's world, the binding tenets of the Bastion Protocols would've summoned them here regardless, there was no forsaking their oathsworn duty if not to protect people who were not their own, to slay the very Sith sowing chaos in the Galaxy.

The two Imperial Knights accompanying the Imperator were quick to join Rurik's flank as he made his way deeper into the Senate Building. A motion of his hand dismissed them, find someone else, anyone else to assist. The lone Crusader marched with one sole decisive aim in his sights. To end the parasite which had sown the machinations for this cataclysmic deceit and attack.

In the periphery of his mind, he had the suspicion Solipsis would elude them all again but even still- the spirit of this Empire was that of the will of defiance. There was no defeat which could be carried with shame if he projected every fiber of his being into the effort. That pulsing darkness radiated from within the very same complex he lingered within. How he couldn't sense it sooner eluded him, even if it pervaded them all on Bastion, Carlac...time and time again. The power in darkness well and truly came in its ability to crawl into the shadows, lurking for its time to strike. The parabol of the scorpion and the toad, a tale as old as time.

His gaze drifted to the panoramic pane revealing the skyline of Galactic City proper. Smoke billowed from nearby buildings, fires within the streets and corridors of the nearby towers and descending levels, a dervish of death in the smog ridden starfield above. Rurik had been here in the flesh the last time Coruscant burned at the hands of the Sith, a Jedi then, under the tutelage of Vyrin Karis - father to the once Sword of the Jedi , witnessing his dying breaths in his arms. After all the consolidation of power and peace that the Alliance had maintained in its resurgence, it still crawled toward the same fate. Though perhaps this Alliance was not nestled atop the field of bones that the previous was...this was deeply foreboding in all its symbolism.

Whether it would a setback to bounce from to prelude later triumphs, as the Empire had treated Carlac...or an ode of things to come, only time could tell.

His next heavy metal footfalls sounded off to himself in isolation from the distant calamity. He was alone with his thoughts once more. In moments like these- there was that faint chance the light of one long past would disturb his thoughts, a Force Spirit offering some pearl of wisdom or guidance. In recent days, since before he'd taken the reins of power as the Iron Imperator...those voices were silent. And that silence was louder than anything else. That silence, that lack of any periphery dialogue in his thoughts was far more troubling than what the contrary could offer. It was then that he could curl up and curse himself over self doubt- reigniting the stigma of the imposter that he'd inflicted unto himself for years...decades leading to this moment.

He was alone. Any call to the void, the Force...no voice would mouth in reply. He'd sent off any retinue at his side away to dispose their own duties and there was no deus ex machina or will of the force beyond what he could control himself here to offer liberation of the mind or body for him. Something somehow uncharacteristic for those attuned to the force. The Jedi had the spirits of wisdom of the past to offer them guidance and the Sith had their self constructed font of hubris within their sense of self, the ego.

Rurik...had little but his own thoughts, his instinct, discipline and resilience. In Ironclad form, he would raise his arms again in defiance to darkness. Be his mortal shell has suffering wrought unto it or not- he would be here to fight it.

Still- there was no foe unbeatable, no task insurmountable. Many had tread the same path as the Man in Iron, many more would follow him. In that, he supposed, he was not alone.

But even so- there was a world, a Galaxy burning.

A Sith to kill.

I R O N​

The final steps before he reached the senate chamber, an auxiliary entrance, leading to one of many senate pods meant to hold the delegation of the Alliance's several hundred worlds. The door refused his entrance at the prompt of a security code. The Senator of Skako. With both arms at his side he motioned his lone organic hand up to pry the door open with a savage pull at either half of the sliding metal entrance way before soon enough he had arrived in the open chamber, the motion of his arrival willing the array of lights across the senate chamber to life. He glanced down to the ground floor of the chamber, propelling himself from the senate pod down toward the main entrance of the chamber. He could feel that dark presence growing closer.

Closer...and closer. Enveloping him, the ever chaotic and virtuous desperation of the Jedi's finest who could barely must the strength to survive this horrid encounter. Standing at the entrance of the Senate Chamber, the Imperator Ferrata awaited them all. In his characteristic skin of iron, his pale eyes peered from beneath the metal visage in a gaze of foreboding ice. Waiting.

He slowly brought his hand to the hilt of argent blade, his will made manifest. The vessel by which he would live and die. For all who take the sword would perish by it all the same.

The argent blade came alight in a hiss of contained fury. He was ready and waiting for the encounter to come and he knew well his opponent would be prepared in anticipation all the same. Apathetic to the Jedi suffering at his hand, he would wait for him to arrive in the venue he'd cast for them to hold their feud of strength and will.

Whenever the entrance to the Senate Chamber pried open, Rurik was standing still in silent vigilance, his silver blade ignited and his defiance ever rampant.

 

[Ignatius Rausgeber]

HIGHWAY 67: To the Republica 500
Immediate vicinity: The Mongrel | Atticus Draco
Those who'd probably hear the big boom: Eina L'lerim-Vandiir | Alora Vizsla | Raus Garrat | He Who Was Lost | Khaostra Devoid | Alars Keto
Sergeant Omen | McGill | Atlas Drake | Isla Draellix-Kobitana | Ozma Olumivius | Darth Insatious | Darth Tennacus | Keilara Kala'myr |
Lazarus Sloan | Aerith Krayt | Ishida Ashina | Zoraya Ives-Ayres | Among others. Sorry if I missed you.
DIRTY HARRY

It was the silence which made Ignatius anxious. The anger he could deal with. The bruisers from Braygar, he could handle. But it was the silence of the Mongrel which disturbed Rausgeber. The Brotherhood of the Maw, at least the ones he met were hardly silent people. They wore their hearts on their sleeve and were easy-ish to read. But the Mongrel? The way he just starred. It made Ignatius’ stomach churn. But what really put the fear of God into him was when the man leaned in, Ignatius checked first he wasn’t imagining, and then turned back repeatedly, keeping his attention divided between roadway and his master. “S-sir?”

“Let me give you some advice, 'Iggy…” he drawled. Ignatius’ mouth went dry with terror. His pupils dilated, and a cold sweat began to form on his forehead, "Your past life is irrelevant. It ended, utterly and irreversibly, the moment you fell into our hands and gained true purpose." Rausgeber’s jaw remained clenched tight. He had a purpose. He had friends. A career. And that had all come to nothing. And yet he lived. He still survived. Remember to keep a stiff upper lip. Remember not to show fear. Nothing. But his words cut deep. Deeper even than Kerri’s jabs earlier. But he kept a firm hand at the wheel. But even that jab at his shoulder was enough for Ignatius to briefly let go. “What matters now is faith." Faith? Faith his arse. This was madness. Utter madness. There was no faith.

"It doesn't matter anymore which planets consider themselves 'well-protected', and you don't need 'insurance'.” Ignatius looked back at him, his features remained somewhat stoic, but his eyes betrayed some fear, “You are going to war among the Scar Hounds, blessed children of the Three Avatars.” The fear turned to desperation as he watched the page get caught in the flotsam of the speeders draft, before fluttering away. Bugger. “For those on our holy mission, there are no 'suicidal' attacks, only blessed battles to advance the divine, inevitable cause of War, Death, and Rebirth." Well that was a lie. That was definitely a lie. In fact, Ignatius’ ego begged him to run through some sort of pithy retort. Back on Port Sorrow, to return to that primal angst, and anger he had felt. But there was nothing but emptiness. "And if you think you have been 'witness to horrors beyond what is imaginable' so far, remember that the day of our greatest battle is only just beginning. Today you ride with The Mongrel, and there are few horrors I cannot imagine... or bring to pass."

Well that was ominous. Rather, ominous. In fact, more than ominous. That was a threat. And very much something Rausgeber wanted to stay out of. All he could muster was a curt nod. “Alright. Yes sir.” He muttered quietly, keeping his eye on the road, keeping the LuchsHai from knocking into any of the larger speeders littering the road. He ignored the Mongrel’s gaze and mulled over his own thoughts. This man clearly hated him. And the fact that he had for now seen fit not to just merck him outright was both a mercy and a pity. Ignatius was by no means suicidal. Something within him drove him. Hope, perhaps. Or maybe this faith the Mongrel spoke of. But of a different kind. If he was to survive, presumably in the Maw’s custody, as he was certain the Mongrel now had his scent.

The Mongrels tapping on the dashboard comms caught Ignatius out of his musings. The holographic display was clear. The Republica 500. “Take us there.” Ignatius scanned the route. This was not perhaps the destination he had considered. He imagined the Mongrel would have hauled them to the Senate Building, perhaps the Chancellors quarters, or some other event. For a grand display of the Maw’s power. But this? This was curious. Ignatius did not speak, but instead affirmatively nod, letting the beat up LuchsHai’s limited computational capacity do the work.

The route continued down the highway, and Ignatius continued trundling down it, watching as the building drew closer. Ignatius imagined the ways he would perhaps get the Mongrel off his back. Perhaps dispatching the cybernetic menace much like he had Braygar. Maybe setting the speeder on course for a wall, letting his mechanical appendages splatter against a wall encased in whatever biological remains sat there. “Iggay, boss, got something!” Kerri barked, clambering down, “Spotted,” He pulled down the macrobinoculars from his eyes, and gestured for either Ignatius or the Mongrel to look, “Got some movement in the distance, bout a click away, fellas moving kit about. Look serious.” Ignatius looked down at the map, and then up. If that was enemy forces, they were clearly making a perimeter. Right at the edge of where the senate district was drawn up. And to move back, circumvent it on the highway? It’d cost them time. “What’s the play?” Kerri barked.

Rausgeber’s nostrils flared, and he swallowed. If the letter had been some form of slight against the Maw, hopefully this would get him out from under. It was time to show he was no mere whelp. “Get the gun out,” Ignatius snapped, “We fire it, when we’re close to range.” He swallowed, “About point four of a klick, before we fire.” His gaze settled on the map, and he watched as internally, the marker he’d set began to draw closer.

“Iggy, ya mental!” Kerri snapped, he clambered from the back tray, and slid up next to the cab, hanging from some of the armour, “We fire the ‘owl then, we’re gonna hit right after the thundahvelins do! We’ll be right in the thick of it!” Kerri pleaded, “We’ll be toasted, just like the rest.”

“We increase speed.” Ignatius argued back, “Push forward, keep momentum, and don’t let go. They would be mental to stay there, and keep fighting under fire!” Ignatius did not even look back to address him, “Bry, stay steady on the cannon, don’t fire till we have targets in sight. Kerri,” He turned to face the Weequay, “Get the gun ready, high angle. We’ll hit on top of them.” Kerri looked shocked by the revelation, and looked briefly at the Mongrel to see if there was a belaying of the order. “Now Kerri, now!”

"You are a shameless lil prick, ya know? The weequay clambered back to the tray, “One Lek, forty degrees, move it!” Behind the Mongrel, the sound of the hideous cannon being physically cranked into position. The scurried cries as the Auxiliaries moved it, “Put ya back into it ya meanderer’!” Kerri snapped. Ignatius meanwhile kept his eyes on the road, and reached below the dashboard, reaching for a wire, and then tugging it. From the exhaust of the LuchsHai, a spread of red flares launched into the sky, and illuminated it. The Auxiliary signal to close ranks, which Ignatius followed by reaching to the comms unit, and pulling up the rusted microphone.

“Alright, this is Crash Cart One, we are rolling onto an enemy position. Prepare for deployment of Howlers.” Ignatius commanded, “Engage Howlers, forty degree angle.” Ignatius snapped, “And prepare to jack up the speed, we’ll be heading in hot.” There was a cluster of acknowledgements and yelps, as the Auxiliaries, coated under the red light of the flares, began to prepare for their attack. “Hurry up back there!” Ignatius snapped, “We’re at point six now!” There were grunts from the back as they hurried to press the gun. It’s cheap, rusted scrap frame creaking as they eaked it into position. Ignatius reached across the Mongrel’s lap and pried open the glove box. Within it were a pistol, canteen, and four seats of ear muffs. “I would,” Ignatius coolly mused, although internally, he was terrified, “You get these, lest you want to hear nothing but dull ringing for the rest of your days.” He prized the muffs to his ears.

He looked down at the marker he’d placed internally. “Five.” Ignatius snapped, “Four.” He felt his foot begin to tense against the accelerator, “Three.” He put his hand on the shift, ready to press it into top gear. “Two.” He nudged his other leg through one of the flare wires. “One.” Iggy dropped his legs. One foot slamming the accelerator, the other dropping the other. A menagerie of flares were popped from the exhaust, as One Lek let rip the chain. Immediately, it could be heard. That hideous, ominous….

Howl. ​

It was a roar, deafening all as one row after another, the crude munitions lit up. The howling, bellowing screech echoed through the nearby buildings close to the Republica 500. Row after row of Thundahvelins, tails tipped with cheap rocket fuses began to launch up and cross the sky, smothering the nearby area with thick, acrid smoke. Only broken up by the brilliant light of six green flares igniting. One by one, the other vehicles launched their flares, firing directly up into the air. Popping them. The troop transport LuchsHai’s were awash with joyous roaring as the speeders pressed the attack. Ignatius cross the perimeter, just as the first wave of Thunahvelins, armed with explosive tips hit the ground behind them. Detonating as they cratered against the asphalt, in and around the New Imperial line. Auxiliaries began to open fire haphazardly, hitting anything that survived in the smoke.

“Come on you dumb bastards! Eat chit and die!” That was Ignatius' sentiment exactly, as he turned to face the Mongrel.

 

[Inosuke Ashina]

Ashina's Crisis
Henna Ashina

---

---

​

Stern, half-shouted orders hurried the younglings into a group. Authoritative contrast to Henna's tenderness didn't allow the youths to dawdle. Inosuke's weight favored his cane as they gathered, his focus away from his surroundings and on more distant events. Clairvoyance exposed those that would head his way unto his awareness. There were far more than he could have anticipated, and they'd be upon him, Henna, and the younglings in a matter of minutes if not impeded.

Ashina himself would become the impediment.

"Come back to me whole this time."

Inosuke faded back into the immediate present. He offered Henna a nod in agreement, though it was a promise one could hardly keep. She was not wrong to observe his condition. Ashina was hardly feat to teach, let alone fight. Pragmatism dictated he held the way, lest he be dead weight on the retreat. Of course, he didn't say anything to lead Henna to see it that way. Convincing her had been a stroke of tenuous serendipity that he wouldn't waste.

"There are twelve coming this way, you must move quickly."

Only half of the pivot he'd intended came through. Halfway between Henna and the direction of the oncoming interlopers, he stopped. Inosuke could not foresee his own demise. It could be here or beyond, but here was likelihood far stronger than usual. This time could very well be the last time. Unlike the last, he was keenly aware of it now.

For the first time in decades, Inosuke defied the ancient words that molded him. He hesitated. Contradicting his own advice, he lingered just long enough to seize Henna by the arm as she began to abscond. One firm tug reeled her back. If this proved to be the final time they saw one another, he didn't wish to leave her in doubt. Slow degradation of his cold austerity over a year of toeing a line culminated into this. His lips pressed against hers, lingered for a time that was infinitely too short before separating.

"I will find you when this is over. Survive."

In front of the younglings wasn't exactly the romantic image she'd imagined, he was sure. From his peripheral he could notice several of them make disgusted faces, while others found verbal expressions for their revulsion. A thought was spared for how well they had it, how much simpler things would be with no desire or concern intimacy and attachment. Those thoughts were thrown away quickly, there was no time to reminisce on younger, simpler times.

"Go," he reiterated, giving Henna a slight nudge onto the shoulder.

Stepping his own way, Ashina discarded his cane. Walking grew tenfold in difficulty, every muscle in the leg inert to his volition. Perseverance made his limp nearly imperceptible. Cerulean blade hissed to life as he descended the hall, intent to dam the stygian stream that flowed his way.

ASHINA CLAN​

 

[Vaxis]

Location: Jedi Temple

Engaging: Darth Vinaze

Allies: Isla Draellix-Kobitana , Geiseric , Greer Caimbeulaich , Eina L'lerim-Vandiir , AC, Jedi

Enemies: BotM, Sith

The Mountains of Madness

There wasn't much of a reason for Vaxis to visit Coruscant. The endless city skyline and immeasurable amount of inhabitants were enough of a reason for him to want to stay away. Despite these reservations, Vaxis now found himself coming into orbit over the very planet he sought to avoid. Ashla certainly worked in strange ways.

They had received a transmission from the New Jedi Order regarding a potential threat on the horizon. The nature of the threat had been unclear, but if the Order was calling for other Jedi to come to their aid, then the threat had to be serious... and they were about to find out just how dire the situation had become.

"Brother Vaxis, get up here. It's worse than we thought."

Vaxis quickly joined his comrade, a fellow member of the Holy Jury of Ashla, only to be met with a mass of ship and turbolaser fire above the skies of Coruscant. He didn't recognize the ships of all of the combatants, but those that he could make out didn't make things look good for the planet. Vaxis muttered a curse under his breath as he took the co-pilot seat of the shuttle.

"Please tell me that our cloaking device is active."

"Yes, brother. I have also taken the liberty of plotting our course through the fleet. With any luck, they won't know that we made it through until we break the atmosphere."

"Excellent. We are to rendezvous with our people on the ground. We likely won't make it to the senate building, so we'll have to settle for as close as possible. Are you picking up any other signals, Brother Ambrose?"

"Just one. Looks like Sir Blair's padawan has made it to the planet. She's heading to the temple now."

They managed to make their way unseen through the chaos of the fight above the planet, breaking the atmosphere to find little more than the continuing sounds of war. As they approached the upper levels of the city, Vaxis began to feel... off. Something was gnawing at the back of his mind, sending him into a strange sort of malaise. His gaze shot over to the Jedi Temple, his eyes narrowing as he searched into the great unknown of the Force.

"Change of plan. We're headed for the temple as well. Set me down on the roof of the temple, then rendezvous with Padawan Caimbeulaich. If she's alone, then she'll need your help."

"Why the roof, Brother?"

"There's an ominous presence here. I'm sure you can feel it too. Whatever it is, it's affecting our brethren below. Someone has to put a stop to it before this dread completely inhibits our ability to fight."

As they neared the temple, Vaxis sent a transmission to Greer Caimbeulaich on a secure Ashlan channel.

<<This is Brother Vaxis. We are approaching the temple now. I have to put a stop to this unknown force that's hindering our fellow Jedi, but I am sending Brother Ambrose to you. Stay close to him and you will be okay. Ashla be with you. Vaxis out.>>

They were now low enough for Vaxis to drop to the temple roof. As he leaned out the doorway of the shuttle, he looked back to Ambrose.

"Until next time, Brother, may Ashla guide your path."

He touched down on cold rooftop, one hand outstretched as he sought to find the source of the menacing energy. It seemed to come from everywhere... and yet, nowhere... as if it was not of this world. That left Vaxis with limited options. He quietly sat upon the roof of the temple, eyes closed and legs folded. He usually began such meditations with a prayer to Ashla, but there was no time. He immediately focused on bringing himself into a deep trance. Slowly the echoes of battle drifted away, and Vaxis found himself sitting within the empty space of his own mind. He began sending his energy in all directions, bursting in waves as he made his presence known to the unknown assailant. With each burst came a message...

You hide in the darkness... does the Light frighten you so? Should you want a proper challenge, I will be waiting...

If Vaxis couldn't find the entity, then he would make it come to him.
​

 

[Anja Doreva]

ALLIES: BOTM | NSO
ENEMIES: GA | NJO | SJC | NIO | AC | Any other Jedi-huggers
ENGAGING: Aeris Lashiec | Kai Bamarri
GEAR:

Spoiler

Lightsabers
Force-imbued dual Phrik Blades
Phrik dagger
Dressed to kill
Company of Legion of Bone among which is the Ash Hellions - All led by General Samron Gerron
The Fortuna in orbit

O~~>FIRE BURNIN'<~~O​

Danika chuckled at the Consular's words.

She expected nothing less from the Jedi - the passiveness and avoidance of violence. So many have tried to appeal to her. To dissuade her from conquest.

All have failed.

Sensing a spike in energy, Danika cocked her head to the side as her unnatural teal eyes regarded the Padawan behind the Consular. Sure enough, he reacted before anyone else. A mug of tea was flung at Danika, lukewarm liquid spinning in all directions. She lazily deflected the mug to the side, but not without some tea splattering her armour and face.
"That would have been more impressive if the tea was actually still warm, darling." she said with a tsk as she directed Samron to engage the boy with the wave of a hand.

Wiping tea from her face, she turned her attention back at the woman across from her.
"Well, my dear, it seems your associate has made the decision for me." She unclipped both saber hilts from her belt. "You should have taught him some of your nice manners. It would have prolonged his life." she said as the sound of plasma meeting Phrik could be heard behind her. She then stepped toward the very well mannered librarian, igniting both her crimson and amethyst blades as she went.

She would have her fun before continuing her hunt.

~General Samron Gerron~
Flanked by the Ash Hellions
12/12 Legionnaires ready to engage
192/192 Legionnaires in reserve​

Samron had been bristling.

He knew to wait for Danika to smooth things over, but that did not mean he was placid. He had seen her spiral once while dealing with these stinking Jedi. He did not want to see it again. So when the tea cup was hurled, he did not have to wait for his Warlord's order.

He immediately drew the two Phrik vibroblades from his back, settling for the old fashioned way first before he would resort to quick annihilation. Stepping forward, he met Kai Bamarri 's violet blade head on.
"It's refreshing to see a pro-active Jedi for a change instead of all the redeeming speech." he told the boy, his voice almost haunting through the dread-helm, as his blades held the lightsaber for a second. With a great heave, he then shoved the lightsaber away and jumped back.

The great Falleen then fell into his dual wielding dueling stance, waiting for the brash Jedi. He dealt with Danika's melee skill on a daily basis - lightsabers were nothing new to him.

At his back, the Ash Hellions stood at the front of the Bone Company, awaiting their General's word to jump in. Prefect Nathan Graves already had a hand on the heavy disruptor on his hip, ready to end discussions should either the Falleen or their Warlord require it.

 

[Aeris Lashiec]

Kai Bamarri // Anja Doreva

That fool of a boy with a teacup in his hand. It didn’t take a genius to figure that peace was out of the way. Sith were hateful, but not unreasonable. A direct attack however, now that was a hard message to miss for people who either had friends or enemies, even if the former was ever debatable.

“I tried.” Aeris lamented with a sigh.

The hilt on her belt tore itself from the magnetic strip on her belt and into her hands. The loud snap-hiss of her blade echoed around the archives as a pale white blade slowly emerged from the handle of her sword. It had been a long while since she had seen this. The crystal in her sword was the same one that had once belonged to a friend of hers, a brainwashed teenager misled by someone not too unlike Aeris’ opponent.

It was as fitting of a reason as any to break her pacifist streak. As her opponent came closer, Aeris entered a defensive stance. This wasn’t about fighting until only one of them still stood, or so Aeris told herself.

Her hand motioned towards Danika to push her back.

This fight of attrition had only just begun.

 

[Kai Bamarri]

As his violet blade crashed into the general’s phrik swords, Kai’s mood teetered on the precipice between primal terror and joy. The mask of his opponent was both frightening and weirdly comforting—it reminded him strongly of a holoshow he liked to watch, one in which brightly colored superheroes battled with masked villains.

He knew this wasn’t a show, nor was he a child playing pretend with a toy weapon. Yet some part of him was thrilled by the similarities all the same.

"It's refreshing to see a pro-active Jedi for a change instead of all the redeeming speech."

They were even doing banter!

<Oh, yeah?> he awkwardly started to reply, unused to exchanging witticisms in the midst of battle. He wasn’t even sure if the general would be receptive to his telepathy. Most NFUs weren’t, assuming the general couldn't feel the Force. <Well, I’m not like the other Jedi!>

The masked general pushed him away, then stood at the ready. Kai kept him waiting just a little too long. Usually in sparring matches and lightsaber training, he was the one fending off the more aggressive attacks of other Padawans. Not because he was afraid of them, but because he didn’t like how it felt so similar to hunting prey.

Now he had to be the aggressive one, since he had initiated this duel. He leaped forward, his stance shifting as if he were going for a big, bold slash aimed at the neck, only to change into a more conservative (but no less deadly) thrust against the general’s side. Whether the blow landed or not, he kept going, chaining attacks rapidly together. His style of fighting was fairly simple and predictable, but he moved freakishly fast, harbored inhuman strength, and some of the contortions of his body as he evaded the general’s strikes were just a little too flexible...

Aeris Lashiec Anja Doreva​

 

[Silver Solus]

​

Rescue People! Be a Hero!

Location: Spaaace!!
Allies: [ NJO | SJC | GA ]
Enemies: [ MAW ]
Tag: [ Alora Vizsla ]

“Do you know the secret design flaw in the enemy ships?” For a moment, Silver was utterly distracted from the battle at hand. “Well, if they don’t know you and won’t listen then I don’t like them. Unless Gir Quee is here; he made our ship. We like him. Or Travot Ravenna . Except I think he flies submarines, so I am not sure he’d be here.”

A moment followed, where Silver familiarized herself with the new system. While not quite random, she did flick things on and off so fast it was a wonder nothing broke. “Ooh, nice sensor suite. That is always the first upgrade we do for the family ship. Let’s see…”

But her ramble failed as a dire threat echoed through the COMMs. A Grand Overseer Marlon Sularen spoke, and Silver scrunched down in her seat, as if terrified he could sense her.

This is Grand Overseer Marlon Sularen of the Final Dawn to the Combined Fleet of the Bastion Accords. The Full might of the Maw has been unleashed upon the Core. Withdraw from this System while you can and you will be spared , resist us and you will be annihilated along with this precious world you have vowed to defend. The Maw cannot be defeated for we are an unstoppable force of Chaos , one that will decimate the Galaxy and purify it from your sins. This is your First and only Warning. War. Death. Rebirth.

Silvery tears a fell, and she remained scrunched in her seat. She remembered. A quiet, whispered, “Please don’t,” drifted far beyond the confines of the ship. Shaking hands kept moving, looking for those who needed them. “Distress calls, aye aye, Captain.” A cacophony of sounds battered her, too much information; Silver eliminated every call on the other side of the planet.

“The Jedi beacon is under heavy attack. The Senate building is under heavy attack. An insane Asylum…” Another all - frequency message assault her ears.

All defenders, this is Lord-General [ DECEASED Erskine Barran ] of the New Imperial Order! If you're within the Senate building, hold your ground and remember what you're fighting for! If you're scrapping farther afield within the Senate district, engage rear-guard actions all the way back to the Senate Building itself! CORUSCANT STANDS!!!! CIVILISATION STANDS!!!!

Silver sat a little taller in her chair. A grubby hand dashed away useless tears.

“Never thought I’d be grateful to the NIO. But if I ever see that guy, I’m going to hug him.”

“Ooh! We have to go here!” Silver threw the coordinates up, to a tall, gleaming spire right beside a huge hotel teaming with violence and Force Powers. The elegant and renowned Hayata Hotel! But all that violence was why she’d chosen it.

“There’s an unexploded BOMB in there, about four levels above the fire. I guess a fleeter missed?” Silver was hazy on why or how the bomb got there. But the panicked chatter of the residence made it clear one was perched precariously on level 35.​

​

 

[Sergeant Omen]

THE GREAT BATTLE of CORUSCANT
OBJECTIVE II | BASTION ACCORDS BESIEGE
OPPOSING | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW​

A VERY OLD ALLY.
868 ABY, highway leading to the 500 Republica, Galactic City, Coruscant.

Kelga'an got a look to Sergeant Omen while he was putting the letter in his front bag. The junction just had been done and the Captain was happy to see some allies on the battlefield. He observed carefully the armor of the clone trooper and nodded quickly, calling Kappa Platoon's Lieutenant to him.

Omen gave the career soldier a smirk. "The best allies are holed up in the Jedi Temple with their own problems. What I do have is a Kwookrrr Assault Regiment" He nodded to the Wookies had already set up behind the barriers and were ready for any attacker to approach. "I can't guaranty anymore support than that and if actual Sith come to lead their minions in storming down the gates, then we will be having real trouble. I'm going to try to split their attention."

With one whistle, Omen quickly woke his beast and mounted up before leading his friend to climb up one of the neighboring Skyscrapers. With his beast's experience at climbing Kashyyyks trees, it was no hard feat for the beast to climb onto a landing ten stories up. And there he would lie in wait, ready for his prey to rampage by, looking straight ahead at their prize when their deaths would become from up above.

As soon as the Maw soldiers had clambered by as they charged towards the barricade, Omen pushed his beast forward. Skotah bridged the gap across the street with ease before gripping the opposite building and sliding down the structure's metal sides with his thick claws shredding the building. About ten feet from the street, the Terentatek pushed off from the wall and landing in the street with a big thump, crushing whatever was under the creature's massive feet and throwing any Maw soldier in the immediate area being thrown off of their feet. It was killing time and Omen couldn't help laughing as he started throwing thermal detonators around and his beast bite off everything it could chew. Now, this was a fun time.

Nukth Kelga'an

​

 

[Tu'teggacha]

​

Location: Coruscant, High Orbit
Foes: Gallius Orcana | Qellene Tyliame | Karlist Rax | Constantine Oliva | Relynia Sorrene | Culas Vile | Albrecht F. Herlock | Tren Chaar
Allies: Marlon Sularen | Aldo Garrick | Dyans Keto

Spoiler: TL;DR

• Tu'teggacha coordinates defenses with Dyans Keto
• He tracks the Silencieux by detecting exhaust from its movements, a known flaw of its cloaking device
• He directs fighters and frigates to intercept the stealth corvette
• He directs four star destroyers to engage the attacking NIO escort frigates
  • Each star destroyer is six times the size of the escort frigates, and heavily armed and shielded

Tu'teggacha and his mighty fleet did not have to wait long for their reinforcements to arrive. As they held the line against Orcana's encroaching forces, fleets poured in behind the spearhead he had created: Dyans Keto and her Krath, Aldo Garrick and the Final Dawn, Marlon Sularen and the Hand of Purification, all of them out for blood. The Brotherhood and its various allies and subfactions were putting everything into this strike, knowing that it was likely their only opportunity to strike at Coruscant without a long, slow campaign to carve through Alliance territory on the way there. They had been given a dark gift when the Path of the Mystics fell into their hands.

Now they would use it to deal the Bastion Accords a blow they'd never forget.

"Lady Keto," Tu'teggacha transmitted to the Krath commander as their fleets closed ranks, "your fire support is appreciated. We will hold back the enemy fleets while the World Devastators are unleashed." And unleashed they would be. As Grand Overseer Sularen gave his dire warning to all vessels in the system, preparing to engage and destroy any who dared to remain, Admiral Garrick was already sending the horrific machines - half factory and half indiscriminate ravager - down to the surface. Tu'teggacha had seen the footage of when they'd been released on forested, sparsely-populated Enenpa, ripping up the woods in pursuit of resources.

On Coruscant, where untold hundreds of billions lived, carnage was inevitable.

But before he could drink in the misery, terror, and suffering that ensued once the World Devastators began ripping up apartment buildings and consuming skyscrapers whole, Tu'teggacha had to deal with the immediate threats being mustered against him. Garrick and Sularen were engaging the Alliance forces, their ships meeting the threat of Oliva's picket line and Revenant Squadron. That left the ships of the New Imperial Order for the Taskmaster to contend with. So far Orcana had yet to change tactics, simply unleashing what big guns he had available in order to trade fire with the Mawite fleet... but there was another threat that the NIO had mustered.

By now, Tu'teggacha knew the ships of Anaxes Navy Task Force 58 very well. He had first contended with them on Csilla, when they had been just one of the many threats attempting to destroy the Mercy. He had nearly vaporized the Pride of Anaxes with a MegaCaliber turbolaser shot, but the ship had survived to slip around the Fatalis while Orcana had distracted the Mawites, dealing more damage to the superweapon. He had seen the task force again over Korriban, when the Ashlan fleet had ambushed his small task force. That was when he'd first encountered the Silencieux, the stealth ship whose torpedoes had sneakily crippled the Fatalis's sublight engines.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

Tu'teggacha had many flaws - selfishness, megalomania, sadism - but stupidity was not among them. The first time the Silencieux had attacked, he had been caught totally by surprise, and the stealth ship had caused terrible damage. But now the corvette was doing the exact same thing, without any change in tactics since Korriban. The Taskmaster would've had to have been an idiot not to expect it... and he was not an idiot. "Herlock is here," he announced to his bridge crew as soon as he spotted the rest of Task Force 58, "and that means he will be using that stealth ship again, probably the same way. Prepare our countermeasures."

After the terrible damage the Silencieux had done the Fatalis over Korriban, Tu'teggacha and his command crew had reviewed the data from that encounter and made preparations to face similar ships in the future. Collating all sensor data from the battle, they had discovered the key pitfall of the MXC-T26 Yggdrasil cloaking device employed by the stealth corvette: it could not mask detection of exhaust from the ship's sublight engines. Since the Silencieux liked to fire while on the move, in order to keep from being located by tracing its weapon trajectories, it was spilling out that exhaust with every maneuver. Once you knew to look for it, it wasn't hard to find.

"Engage point defense lasers on this pattern," he ordered, transmitting the data he'd gathered on the stealth corvette's exhaust trail. "Stealth torpedoes may have been launched from any of these points. Create a grid of laserfire and intercept those warheads." He couldn't pin down exactly where the stealth torpedoes had been launched from, but the Fatalis was huge, and brimming with turbolasers and point defense systems. He could fill an area of space with so much laserfire that no warhead could possibly get through, and thanks to the exhaust tracking, he knew where to start. The ship rocked slightly as one torpedo impacted its rear armor.

The rest of them never stood a chance against the defensive barrage.

"Break off two frigates to chase down that corvette," Tu'teggacha barked, and a pair of Samaels moved to follow the exhaust trail, unleashing ion fire into the general area of the Silencieux as they tried to locate it and pin it down. Squadrons of fighters joined them in the hunt, sweeping sector after sector of the battlefield with laser cannons as they chased the enemy ship - now behind their lines and impossibly outnumbered. Meanwhile, it seemed that two 300-meter escort frigates were going to make a head-on attack on the 10,000 meter Fatalis. The sight made the Taskmaster laugh, a vile sound resembling a wet rat stuffed into a blender.

"The poor fool has lost his mind," the Ebruchi chuckled. "Put him out of his misery." All four Crucifix I-class Star Destroyers moved in front of the Fatalis, on an intercept course with the pair of tiny escort frigates. Each of the four star destroyers was six times the size of either escort frigate, and these were the smaller star destroyers of the group. They opened up on the attacking frigates with all guns, orbital autocannons and turbolaser batteries and concussion missiles and ion cannons. Perhaps Herlock would see that what he was doing was suicidal, and turn back. Or perhaps he would decide to go full speed ahead and die in a pointless blaze of glory.

It didn't matter to the Taskmaster either way. He had Orcana to worry about.

Spoiler: Fleet Composition/Actions

Fatalis, a Fatalis-class Star Dreadnought	Fighters launched, firing defensively
Aeon's End, a Praetorian-class Star Destroyer	Fighters launched, firing defensively
Bonfire of Vanity, a Praetorian-class Star Destroyer	Fighters launched, firing defensively
Nightmare Eternal, a Praetorian-class Star Destroyer	Fighters launched, firing defensively
Forge of Laments, a Praetorian-class Star Destroyer	Fighters launched, firing defensively
Wrathborn, a Crucifix I-class Star Destroyer	Intercepting the Pride of Anaxes and Courageous
Oblivion Herald, a Crucifix I-class Star Destroyer	Intercepting the Pride of Anaxes and Courageous
Mournfang, a Crucifix I-class Star Destroyer	Intercepting the Pride of Anaxes and Courageous
Soulbreaker, a Crucifix I-class Star Destroyer	Intercepting the Pride of Anaxes and Courageous
Eight Samael-class Frigates	Firing on the Proudheart and Pride of the Emperor
Two Samael-class Frigates	Hunting down the Silencieux

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

SENATE BUILDING // CORUSCANT

ASSETS: Open | GA | NIO | SJC | AC
LIABILITIES: Derix Tirall | MAW
INVESTMENTS: Guarantor | Visions of Gold

“Control, Seven-Nine, sitrep.”
“Go ahead Seven-Nine.”

A pause in the firefight outside the office carried the voice of Tithe’s bodyguard across the room. Their Brotherhood pursuers had dealt with for the time being. The Senate building, as the heart of the Galactic Alliances sprawling government, was a colossal structure for the invaders to occupy. The enemy seemed stretched thin as they hunted their foes. As the battle dragged out and the locations of survivals were revealed, Tithe expected the marauders to swarm those who remained.

“Hallway clear for now but we can hear more on the way.”
“Acknowledged Seven-Nine.”

A dragging noise accompanied an injured Senate guard being carried back into the room. Those still on their feet exchanged blaster power packs with one another, shaking their heads at the depleted reserves. Some of the close protection officers had taken up Brotherhood blasters.

“Where are the heavy hitters?”
“Cresh Trill are moving to your position, ETA two minutes.”
“You already said two minutes!”

The exacerbation of his protectors was evident, and that worried the Vice Chancellor. The elite Senate close protection teams were professionals, always calm under pressure and ready with a way to get him to safety. If they were felt the situation was dire, then things really were bad.

Or maybe it was time to stop relying on them.

Aerarii Tithe was alive today, in spite of hundreds of dodgy deals, get rich schemes and failed ventures, by relying on one person - himself. While the Senate guards had done an admirable job of keeping him safe while in public office, Tithe had been keeping himself one step ahead o his competitors and business rivals for decades. Surviving the Brotherhood’s attack on Coruscant would come down to his own skills and instincts just as much as those of his close protection team.

For the first time he surveyed the office he was sheltering in. The abhorrent decor, featuring lewd sculptures and salacious holopaintings, belonged to none other than Senator Clynch of Plexis. Tithe had visited the office numerous times to warn the legislator about his behaviour, in particular his proclivity for the local…

“Escorts.”

The Senate guards looked at Tithe, unsure what had brought about the sudden up burst.

“The, ahh, the escorts. Yes, how do they, well, you know.”

“Sir, if there was someone waiting for you in your office…”

“No, not me you fool!” Tithe replied to the guard. “Senator Clynch. He was, well, quite the connasseur.” The Aargauun’s eyes darted around the office. Try as he may, Tithe and the Senate guards had never been able to catch the Senator sneaking a call girl in or out of his office. That could only mean…

“Clynch, you filthy genius,” the Vice Chancellor exclaimed as he clicked his fingers. “Lieutenant, search the room. That old philanderer may have left us a way out of this predicament.”