The Sacking of Coruscant

[Coren Starchaser]

And leave it to Coren Starchaser to get him involved in something else that wasn’t behind the stick of a fighter when the enemy decided to show its head. Making a move to get the shuttles here was one thing, but with the enemy on the arrival? Yeah, his astromech kept him linked into the Fleet Communications and that meant the Commander within the, not of the, Galactic Alliance understood that the enemy.

Tucking behind the crates, his implants were a bit more upgraded, one to allow messages to be sent to him from his astromech. That was why he was knowing, while under fire that there was a lot of chit coming into the local space. Seems that the Alliance and Coalition forces had stayed their welcome. His shields were going up from the blasts and the pilot stood up, calling the Force around him, several bolts hit him, the concussive force of a blaster bolt becoming second nature for him to withstand, and it was more him pulling the danger in through his aura.

The Starchaser typically used the Force as adrenaline joined up, go see the movie Crank. He could feel the power charging into him and he fell back into cover. The energy was enough for him to do what he wanted to do, it wasn’t going to be major, but he needed to secure this area, and the best way to do that?
“Admiral, Starchaser. Whats going on out there?” The shuttles were arriving, but with the Sith fleet, did they have time? Without waiting for the response, he stood up, his light repeater in hand, as he reached out with his left hand and grasped three of the missiles in the loading rack.The Force for Coren was a bit different, and he was fine with that. It was going to take the energy he pulled in to do this, but all the same, there was a pop-whoosh as the missiles' volume was instantly freed and it appeared on the ground behind the soldiers. A quick blast from the repeater and the air began to burn.

Frak, bad call.

[member="Vrag"] [member="Friedrich Stahlmann"]

 

[Trask]

Allies: The Galactic Alliance
Enemies: [member="Six-O"], The One Sith


That was... peculiar. In spite of his opponent being an unfeeling machine with a smaller margin for error than any organic could hope to achieve, every single shot he fired posed no more of an immediate threat to the chiss than the orbital cannons focused on the temple in the near distance. Years before, when he'd merely been a soldier, he would have begun moving the instant the droid's rifle came into play, ducking behind cover and relying on superior training to defeat a physically superior opponent. Using range and superior weaponry to overcome whatever advantages that opponent might possess, but that had been before he'd learned to tap into a power far greater than himself. It was that power that now told him there was no harm carried forth by the beams launched from the heavy rifle, and Instead of falling back he simply continued forward through the barrage unimpeded, adjusting his aim in the aftermath of the strange occurrence and opening fire once again on his enemy's armored chassis.

 

[Peyton Steele]

Objective: Stop PDF, probably think about getting clear
Allies: [member="Rekha Kaarde"] [member="Trask"]
Enemies: OS, none-directly
Location: Streets.

Work needed to be done. Peyton grinned though, she had made mark. It was time to get moving. She had a lightweight version, as she wasn’t one who could even support a medium weighted armor, but she was carrying her rifle and the can of paints. What she was going to do was keep marking a few things and work her way up the stream of people. Spray painting a Starbird, she grinned.

“Ok, teams, we’re going for the mainframe. Take your places!” She grinned, all but sprinting now as she had a free space from foot traffic to the tower.

Or so she thought, hearing the call from Rekha, the blonde tucked in quick, against the building. She looked around, was that one carrying a lightsaber?

 

[Six-O]

Location: Between Sith Temple and Defense Control Station
Objective: Hold Position, Eliminate Champion GA Organic, Impede Progress of Opposing Reinforcements on Sith Temple
Allies: One Sith
Enemies: [member="Trask"] | Galactic Alliance
Status of Equipment: On-Board Concussion Grenade Launcher (Empty), On-Board Flamethrower (Half Fuel-Capacity), DLT-20A Blaster Rifle (1 Gas Cartridge, destroyed), SWE/2 Sonic Rifle (Full Capacity, no additional power pack), DT-57 Blaster Pistols (Two power packs, two gas cartridges)

Strange, or entirely intended to probe for further calculating parameters that could be used against this superior-quality organic? The majority of those that had opposed him thus far were mere grunts. The pitiful expendables that filled the rank and file of every Army since the dawn of time. The zoetic damage-sponge types that served the greater purpose of giving their lives so a true connoisseur like he and this Chiss could wage iambic battles of true worth.

Six-O processed, tracked, and ciphered . Scaling through the alpine enumerate at a velocity that would only frighten and confuse the more simple sentience-governing organ of this animate mass of decaying meat that paraded towards him in antinomy. Height, weight and the way it was distributed upon his legs and used to exorcise speed and momentum from the muscles to power his simian gait. They were all decoded in the microsecond that followed the elite soldier abandoning his position of cover.

Via vector mapping, that Six-O labeled Aurek through Isk in descending order of which bearing, mathematically, held a higher percent ratio of likeliness for the Chiss to retreat unto. The Droid unleashed his retort to the aggression.

His movement was direct, symmetrical. As Trask snaked through the smoke, thrashing cobalt beams that wished only to disgorge destruction upon his sturdy chassis, Six-O cut the angle of attack. He moved right with wide, doubtless steps. His position rounding out further in to the center of the smoke filled street undoubtedly putting a wall or storefront behind his opponent and boxing an ambit of probable cover routes to a much more manageable level.

Two more Maser-Bolts from the Charric Rifle rasped by his left shoulder. Six-O, with DLT-20A extended in one powerful Droid arm honed in for a shot that would collapse on to Trask's chest -- the Droid liked impacting low and to the left of the sternum just slightly, the cardiac notch of the left lung. He took great gratification in his aim, and in the aftermath as the organics, bolt searing and bursting through bone and organ with equal ease, flounder to their ultimate death.

But alas, he managed only a single round from his weapon. From somewhere in the war haze of eye burning vapor and fog, a lone tube of crimson abrogation sailed in upon them at just the right height, angle and trajectory. The DLT-20A, grasped in the mechanical hand of this killer Droid, erupted in to a flash of bright white, the entire front half of the weapon cleaved from the stock-end with a belch of sparks. But the Droid, rapid diagnostic would reveal, remained intact. If momentarily stunned.

An improbability factor of 8,767,121 against. . .

Oh how he loved this.

 

[Darth Kentarch]

Location: Airspace around the temple
Objective: Get to an enemy Navigation computer
Allies: One Sith
Enemies: Galactic Alliance


"That one." Kentarch said pointing to one of the GA landing ships that had had smashed down in front of the temple. The Black Mercury swooped down towards the ship as the Sith pilot brought the stealth ship in as close as he could without blowing the vessel's cover. The off ramp opened, and Kentarch soon after made a daring leap for the ship. Calling upon the force, he cushioned himself using telekinetics to stop his body from dropping to fast. Smashing into the pavement, he landed hard, cracking the ground beneath him and falling to one knee.

"The enemy may have security systems in place. Keep a lookout." The Sith pilot said over the comms.

Kentarch stood after a moment, one of the ships the Jedi used to land and assault the temple before him. He could hear the battle from the temple, he had to be vigilant a few Jedi may have stayed behind to watch the ships. Using to the force to probe at anything that may be around the ships, Kentarch slid in through one of the hatches. The layout was straight forward, and surprisingly the ship was empty. Pulling out a data-pad as he passed into the cockpit, he plugged the device in with a cord that ran into Navigation computer. It only took a few moments the security was bypassed, Nav computers were rarely designed with decent security measures in mind.

"Sullust." He said to himself looking at his data-pad. A new Jedi hideout, he herd rumors of the Galactic Alliance forming on the edge of the Mid-Outer Rim border. Several hyperspace routes were logged in the nav computer as well, one was a route that consisted of a single jump from GA space to OS space. After another minute Kentarch had what he needed. Unplugging the data-pad, he reached into the force and crushed the nav computer. The motherboards smashed and twisted to bits, the Jedi would be unable to determine someone had downloaded something.

"Need a pick up." He said exiting the vessel. The Black Mercury had drifted down so he was able to jump back on the ship. "Get us back into traffic." He said. "We have what we need."

 

[Jakkar]

Location: Moving through the Strets
Objective: Gather the Carcasses of the enemy for @Railen Keth.
Allies: The One Sith.
Enemies: The Alliance.
___________________________________________________________
He moved through the battlefield cutting down the enemy and pulled down troopers that had lost most of their squadrons to do the Sith Lords bidding. They carried the bodies through the battlefield and stayed with the Sith Lord, adding to the crumbling defences of the door. The little pile of bodies had grown almost a mountain, ready to serve the Sith Lord's needs.

He had more work to be done however, a jedi was approaching him, cutting down all the troopers who tried to stop him. He gazed at Jakkar and lifted his blade as if daring for him to come. But Jakkar knew better then to uneash his fury for what would certainly be a suicide, despite being used the force (yes he figured that out already) for approximatly 3 times for really advanced tecniques he was still no match for a fully fledged jedi knight. He looked around and noticed some troopers standing idly just hidng behind cover to rest and scout and roared at them, "Get over here!" The troopers who thought that he was a high ranking sith immidietly raised to their feet and moved towards him.

He had barely enough time to duck when the jedis thrown lightsaber passed over his head.

The Jedi, seeing what he was trying to do was running towards him, catching his thrown blade with detectable clumsiness before moving in for the attack. Jakkar raised the warspear, but he knew the primitive weapon would not stand for long before the onslaught of Jedi's saber.

The weapons clashed and a huge scratch was dug into his warspear, but Jakkar simply decided to use Unorthodox meanings to stop himself from dying.

He let go of the warspear and move to the side, and the unexperienced Jedi, never seeing this kind of tactic before fell forward by the use of his own power, his lightsaber falling from his hand. Jakkar quickly fallowed through and picked up the jedi's lightsaber while the troops shot rope-darts and incapacitating the fallen Jedi. He gazed at the weapon for a bit before stabbing it through the back of its owner.

With his triumph laying before him Jakkar couldn't stop but throw his head back and start laughing. This was the famous Jedi order? Who had defeated the Sith more then one time? The Sith must be incapable back then, he thought to himself, this was the ultimate order that would prevail in his eyes.

He quickly stopped and seached for more prey, and located them, they were not attending the fight at all it seemed, only figthing the OS troops who had managed to come near them. Jakkar immidetly started running for them he cut down two troopers before swinging the claimed jedi lightsaber at a particular [member="Peyton Steele"]

 

[Chevu Visz]

Objective: A
Location: Outside the Sith Temple
Allies: @Galactic Alliance
Enemies: [member="Darth Vizios"] [member="Reverance"]

The landscape around the Sith temple was quickly devolving into a hellscape. Yet explosions, screams, blaster fire, and the snap-hiss of lightsabers did not turn the Mirialan's green head. She remained locked in emotional stasis with the Sith Lord before her, the one who sought to be her Master. As he explained his intention to train her as an apprentice, he began inching closer. With each step the man took towards her, Chevu took a step back. There was a sincerity in his tone, but he was Sith. She would be foolish to believe him. Clutching her blue blade, her body tensed as she took on the opening stance of Soresu. Then something caught her eyes behind him. A familiar figure lurked across the street, a man pulling a black cowl over her head. Other than that cruel snarl dancing across his lips, he looked exactly like...

"Take one more step," she spat, her eyes wild, flashing back and forth, moving from the Sith Lord before her to the haunting phantom in the streets. Was that him? What the frell was he doing here?

"And I will be forced to ..."

Booming explosions pierced the air and with a rumble, a large chunk of burning debris tumbled out of the sky. It seemed to be headed in a straight shot for the Sith Lord. Her blade was extinguished and she let it float to her belt clip. Focusing on drawing in the Force, Chevu used the Light Side to speed up the cells in her muscles, then dove forward, arms outstretched, attempting to ram her entire body into his as she pushed the other man to safety. Slaver or not, she wasn't going to watch an unarmed man get splattered all over the sidewalk.

 

[Trask]

Allies: The GA
Enemies: [member="Six-O"], The OS

This was it. The droid had lost its primary weapon, and the smoke did no more to impede the Chiss' vision than did the chassis of the droid itself. Having sidestepped the single blast that had been fired in retaliation, Trask was now free of the obligation to defend himself from the barrages of the heavy blaster, and so he reached out with his mind, focusing his intent on the central processing unit encased within his opponent. It would be the work of a moment to wrench it free from its housing, and an expenditure of power that would be all but unnoticeable. He couldn't understand why all the jedi and sith seemed to favor flashy dramatics when the same effect could be achieved with a fraction of the effort. All one required was an acute ability to focus, and the will to see their actions through.

Except this wasn't it. Trask had reached through the smoke and the fog with his mind's eye, honed in on the processing unit, and was on the verge of wrenching it free when his attention was drawn away by another threat. Blasterfire spattered against his shields and he turned to find a squad of sith soldiers approaching in a standard diamond formation, seemingly opening fire on anything that wasn't holding a red lightsaber or wearing their uniform. He spun to face them as he dropped to one knee, relying on his shields to absorb any further hits as he systematically swept his weapon from target to target, placing a three-round burst in each target's chest, just to the left of center where the heart would be. The bolts burned through armor and flesh alike, and without the reflexes of a force user or the predictive algorithms of a droid, none of the soldiers had any chance of avoiding the lightning quick counter-attack. All five men were dead before the first hit the ground.

A warning buzz rang out in his helmet's earpiece to indicate the depletion of his shields, and the Chiss rose to his feet again as he spun back to face the droid. The altercation with the soldiers had taken only a fraction of a second, but unless he very much missed his guess, that would be more than enough time for the machine to recover.

 

[Six-O]

Time enough indeed, Chiss. Time enough to recover, indeed. More than enough -- in fact. Between the perception of their two very different forms of sentience, there was an entire temporal macrocosm of divergence. For [member="Trask"] to even inaugurate grasping the substance of it would require the meditative skills of a lifelong. . . Force-User?

Of course, of course that's what this sharecropping gentile was. Six-O had suspected so from the beginning when he delved an inquiring barrage of deeply blushed energy beams upon the Chiss. Shots that by purposeful design he had used to appraise the mettle and tactical architecture of his foe. For where would the efficiency be if one did not obey the numbers?

Thus the droid, IGa-60, cogitated. Would he try it? Would the lower sentient try it? Six-O had endured a long history of warfare, Jedi, Sith and Rogue all alike. Unfailingly they all were aware that application of such fine and precise control of the Force was a fool's folly on the Battlefield. It was indeed why outside of amplification to their brawn or speed, or simple exertions of push and pull mechanics that Six-O had not yet managed to quantify a logical explanation of, that these Powers rarely saw use. If only for the reason that his adversary was now learning as a squad of soldiers pressed in through the vast cloud of fire pollution.

A preparatory impact analysis had surveyed the structural integrity of a burning husk that had once been a home, believing that he would, at any moment, find himself lobbed through it. With the pocked and torn ground beneath it's hefty feet providing no attraction for a magnetic seal to hold him from what he computed the most logical, and imminent threat. A number of system protocols enkindled his software programs. Measuring the distance, multiple variations of speed, and probable impact. Compensating system parameters in a way that would prevent impingement and lag from curbing his combat proficiency.

The shattered DLT-20A had already found itself expelled from the Droid's powerful hand. It's body, facilitating it's range of movement to provide the most precise means of rearming; had swung the SWE/2 Sonic Rifle in to the grip of it's left hand, the Bol leather strap that had once clung it across the Droid's metal exterior loosing with ease as it fell from his shoulder and extended muzzle-first towards the Chiss.

It was worthy of note, that Six-O observed the way in which the Sith weapons absorbed in to the armor of this foe. Their energy so ineffectual that Trask seemed to not even flinch from the impact. This, in addition to the strange construction of the cranium covering -- with it's solid face plate, and lack of visible aural dampener housing array to compliment the Communicator hub -- led to the Droid's choice in using the SWE/2 Rifle over his blaster pistols.

From the powerful acoustic generator -- as [member="Trask"] was twisting back to face Six-O -- rasped one violent blast. A resounding boom of expanding sonic energy tactile enough to churn this vast sea of smoke in to vivid and wild swirls against the orange back light of fire. Strong enough to rattle this soldier to his very core, deafen his ears, and leave him impotent in the matter of further waging combat.

 

[Jakkar]

Objective: Kill the attackers
Allies: OS troops and Sith
Enemies: The Alliance, [member="Peyton Steele"]
Location: Streets
_______________________________________
Jakkar retracted the lightsaber when he noticed that a small squadron of troopers were coming for him, weapons raised, he allowed the woman to slip otside his notice and turned to the soldiers who were bold enough to attack him. He sneered at their pathetic demands, ordering him to surrender? That would never happen.

"You filthy dogs." Jakkar sneered at them and bolted forward, managing to deflect some of their bolts back to them, but he noticed that his reflexes were not as fast as the standard force-user, atleast not until he was trained properly. He rolled over, docking under several more bolts and searched the ground for something useful to use as a shield, He noticed a chunk of rubble, usefull for a shield but it would slow him down considerably. But he didn't have enough options so he took it and resumed his charge at the troopers. All the while looking back to see if the woman had made a move.

The rubble had became the near perfect shield, absorbing some of the hits. But in the end, it was broken down in two and became utterly useless. He then threw the two pieces of rubble forward, adding the force to his attack and knocked over two troopers, he ignited the lightsaber and lodged it edge first to a soldiers stomach, the soldier hunched down and he rolled over him and took out the lightsaber. Then he finished the other troopes off.

When it was over he turned back to the [member="Peyton Steele"] and focused his attention on her, "Now... Where were we?"

 

[Sera Inkari]

Location: Ruined Temple Basement, Former Communication Center, now ashes.
Mission: Evacuate.
Allies: [member="Darth Hauntruss"]
Enemies: [member="Darth Raijin"] | [member="Julius Sedaire"] | [member="Judah Dashiell"] | [member="Veino Garn"]

Crushed by stone, her skin had blistered and burned from her wild barely trained force technique, but her body rose itself from the ashes of their temple basement, and her fires died. Crawling across rubble, as orbital guns finally ceased to hit those inside, her and those guarding the basement pulled themselves out to the battle above, which looked equally grim if not worse than where they had come from.

Today was a huge test for Sera, as to what she would eventually become, a test to what she believed in. She could not stand but that didn’t not stop her, faith absolute and unyielding carried her outward, faith that her suffering today had greater meaning than she could yet know or understand.

All she saw, was the will off the force in the conflict around her, played out in the actions of others, and their interactions on the worlds to follow as they rippled. Sera leaned against a pillar, finding her feet, brushed her burned robes down, and walked away, toward her future. Transports picked her up with the injured and the dying to take her into the city out of harms way, in her dream and visions as she lay to rest, she saw one clear picture, that a city was on fire, and the world around her was burning in its wake.

OOC: Thanks!

Spoiler

Thanks for the great thread, writing out my characters now to conclude.

 

[Darth Centax]

769th Graduation Ceremony.
Central Centax District - A distance from the conflict.
Upper Level 54
[member="Ijaat Akun"]

Upper Central Centax was a lovely looking place, named for its beautiful framing view of Coruscants many moons. Many made their lives and livelihoods here, business, small cafes, there was an element of crime certainly but the local security kept strict tabs on trouble makers with stern punishments. The elite of the Sith you might say, with the working everyday folk just a level down from that, that was where the troops were, just down a bit from the upper most levels and luxury, to where the heart of the Sith population lived and the real work got done.

Word had reached all garrisons of the attack on the planet, but the graduating class of the 769th had yet to be assigned to a unit or given any orders, they were celebrating with friends and family when they heard the news.

The Sith’s own orbital weaponry and turrets at the temple turning against them. All in all it was a terrible sight, and many young troopers with him had gathered around the holoscreens to watch, it could only be a matter of time till they were sent out after these rebels for some payback. There friends were out there, the ones just a year on after them at the academy, hell even a few months ahead of them, those they’d shared target practice with, or a game of sabacc at the barracks.

Then the orbital guns stopped mercifully, but the temple lay in ruins on the news broadcast… there were gasps and pause, and then something, much, much worse.

The trouble was the one who had control of those guns, had lost consciousness, fallen asleep. If they drifted even a few meters above to turn their focus, what do you think might happened to the angle of fire below? Whether it was those orbital guns, whether it was a rain of stray shots from the fleet battle going on ahead, a crashing spaceship none would really ever be able to tell them, because it all happened so fast. Hell it could have even been friendly fire for all it mattered, the cause wasn’t important, the effect was.

A flash and force so great hit them, then hit them, then hit them again, Central Centax began to sink, level upon level crushing those above them, the death toll was terrible, homes, businesses, schools, everything in one big column collapsed, pulling part of the other levels with it, it was the day the 769th died, and the day they were reborn.

 

[Trask]

Allies: The GA
Enemies: [member="Six-O"], The OS


For a being accustomed to reacting to blaster bolts, the speed of sound was a slow attack indeed and Trask shifted to his left as he fired a short burst at the sonic blaster itself rather than its wielder. Next, his aim shifted to the central chassis, firing a burst just to the right of center from the droid's perspective. The intent of the second attack was to drive his opponent left, that being the most optimal way to avoid the shots, and place him in position for the next burst of shots. The last of the three attacks would be timed before the droid could arrest the momentum of his dodge, if indeed he did actually dodge, and aimed to strike just to the left of center, on the outside edge of the primary power casing. Not enough damage to send the power supply into a critical overload, but enough to force a shutdown and switch to reserve power. A brief glimpse into one of a myriad of possible futures told the chiss what his mind already knew, that droids were creatures of method and programming, and like him would almost certainly take the path of greatest efficiency. In this particular instance, he had opted to take advantage of that and coordinate his attacks to his best advantage.

If the droid mounted retaliatory attacks with the sonic rifle, which both his calculating mind and his foresight told him was a near certainty, he would erect a simple telekinetic barrier in his own defense, halting the progress of the counter before it had the opportunity to harm himself or his own weapon.

 

[Six-O]

Now this had started to become something more than a frivolous pursuit of slaughter, like so many incidents had proven to be since Six-O's return to this Galaxy. He was faced with no mere mortal here, no, this perishable's date of expiration refused elapsing. Do not go gentle in to that good night. Rage, rage, rage against the dying of the light! That was the motto this simple organic seemed to cry.

A true Titan, his power seemed unmatchable. As the blast of Sonic energy whisked by [member="Trask"] with nary a wobble, buckle of leg, or ill-effect on ear. The glass that resided behind him, black with ash and grimy soot, webbed with surface cracks. Smoke oozing like slithering tendrils, as the pressure breathed, lost forever in the thick cloud that hung over the street in which he and the Chiss battled.

No, such simple combat routines could never lay low a veteran, and the aptitude to which the Force-Users of this Era took to that highly confusing calling surprised the Droid -- almost. Through Three Jedi Purges he had killed, and watch die, thousands of Jedi. Many of them dispatched by simple thugs and hooligans trying to collect a quick profit from various Jedi Hunting Organizations. But these Force-Users, these seemed all together stronger. He would use this opportunity to tweak and alter his combat protocols, oh in time, they would fall again. His math and equations simply needed calibrating.

But which formula would he have to tackle first? In the aeon of every Chrono tick. ψa = Σ cn | n >? No, the Decoherence wasn't entirely significant to his life function right now. Pn = < ψa | φn >2 = cn2. It was a fine place to start, perhaps both equations and the algorithms that birthed from them needed attention, especially given the command of Precognitive genius his opponent was gifted with.

As his red sensors, barely visible through the overshadow of combat, gazed upon the Chiss, watching each burst of fire from the end of his rifle. Six-O had to wonder where the creature received his energy and computational supremacy from. The first ones were aimed at his own weapon, he avoided those with ease. A simple change in elevation on the rifle and a dip in his shoulder. The cobalt beams cackled off in to the building directly behind the Droid. Did the Chiss have Cybernetics he wondered?

Three more discharges were headed his way, his processors and damage avoidance systems rapidly began to compute which course of action the Droid should take -- he wouldn't have to think, not even for a millisecond, he would simply arrive at the answer and do, at least that's how an Organic would naturally process what they saw a sentient such as Six-O accomplish.

Thus the equations became relevant, to what manner could Trask Premonate? Surely the act, outside of meditation would leave an Organic depleted to the point of utter exhaustion. The Force was strong as it was mysterious, Six-O had learned that over four millennia. But even Droid's felt taxed when they attempted to compute and estimate the bottomless abyss of many-worlds, realities, and their outcomes.

Why, in this one second that has passed by right now, so many probabilities -- both negative and positive had mounted that from their superposition in the Cosmic ocean, the decoherence or collapse would produce one reality for them both to continue riding the wavelength on out of a number that could have exceeded ten to the tenth power.

As it turned out, in this case, the Chiss' clairvoyance failed him. Six-O did not step left, instead he pivoted the right leg in a circular sweep. Keeping accurate, unbending aim on [member="Trask"] with his left-hand as he brought his posture in to a side angle with the attacker. Though this would not have been enough to entirely avoid the blasts, it was enough to negate the set-up.

With right hand working with machine precision, the droid began to mitt the blue beams, the reflective plating sending the first directly down in to the duracrete, the second laddered up, ricocheting in to the sky a blue missle that would ride proudly until it's energy had dissipated, while the third found it's way home, directly towards the head of the Chiss. The Droid made note that his on board damage sensors indicated the kinetic power of the maser-beams had left the reflect plating in his right-hand useless, it was a trick he'd not accomplish again, in this fight.

Vexed, to say the least, from the Sonic Rifle another blast, holding full on the trigger. He birthed one more titanic boom of sensory oppressing energy towards his foe.

 

[Trask]

Something shifted in the aether as his shots rang out, stretching and twisting probability until reality itself snapped and recoiled, drawing back into itself as events took a turn that had not been predicted. Or at least that's how it seemed from Trask's perspective, resting microseconds into the future as it was. That was the nature of prediction, it seemed. No matter how aware one was or how good his mind could be at calculating probability or how connected he could become to the flow of the universe, there was always an unaccountable aspect that should have been considered.

In this particular case, it had been the droid's heuristic protocols. The chiss was not the only participant in this struggle capable of learning and adaptation, and even as he had been studying his opponent's habits and mannerisms, so too had the droid been analyzing him. Failure to account for such adaptation had muddied the waters of Trask's predictions, allowing his mind to seize upon an eventuality which had seemed the most concrete, but was in fact no more solid than the smoke that wafted through the air between the combatants. Pulling himself his mind back to the present, he dropped to a knee as the reflected charric bolt sailed over his head, fired a burst once again at the droid's center of mass, then dropped into a roll that would bring him forward and to the right, closing distance at the same time he avoided the sonic blast and re-positioned himself. His new position, slightly behind and to the left of the droid as it stood now, would necessitate another turn for the droid to re-engage its target, giving the chiss just enough time to fire off a second burst without interruption as he came out of the roll.

 

[Six-O]

[Youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6JgeucI4oLs[/youtube]

Well this had been a surprise, the great droid -- nay, the dreadful droid, could not help but conclude. Though their skirmish could be regarded upon by the natural laws of time and the understandings of the constructs that binds the perception to that time and it's relative pace, had not gone on for any great sum of hours. The minutes. . . the seconds they had collated together and the information the Chiss had been able to adduce to the characteristics of his A.I. opponent both astounded and amazed, equally, if graphed in such a way to denote a measure of superiority to one process over the next, which Six-O did not wish to. In fact, he would not do it -- just because he could choose not to. Much the same way he had once chose watch a Zolander boy drown under the ice of a lake during the Zolan Civil War with the Clawdite. I am, I exist. Therefore Six-O kills. It seemed logical.

As one would assume, in fact, as one would not be surprised. Six-O marched forward, letting the bolts that had been shot at the side of his chest, center height, blunder by. . . he wondered if the energetic beams ever thought of why they existed, and for what purpose their life had been aimed towards before culminating with their inevitable crash in to the wall that now resided at his right. Perhaps both he and [member="Trask"] resided in such a reality right now, two specks lost in the middle of a Maser-Beam, destined to erupt in to the sparks of nothingness at the end of our effective trajectory. Six-O could compute no greater poetic end, but, given time and cause, his natural knack of needing to expand capability and efficiency left him 91% certain he could. Those were the only odds a Droid liked, and even that was pushing the boundary.

A roll occurred, it was quick and explicitly rigid, nay a single muscle over strained. The Droid monitored it's momentum, it's course. His body shifting also, as the Organic man flipped across the ground. His right hand had been lowering towards a DT-57 Blaster Pistol, the Droid had intended to trace the outlines of this creature with the entire payload of energy the power pack would allow. But as Droid hand met gun, the fingers and servos locked and howled. Sparks came alive as the abject fingers ceased moving, incapacitated, useless to Six-O right now. He began to hone his protocols towards providing a solution.

Now this was infuriating! His view screens flickered, aside of him he could see the glass flex more smoke, yellow in Trasks spectrum, bulging from crack and frame. This. Tactless. Maladroit! This filthy, abominable statue of decaying rot. This was not supposed to happen, the numbers were against him. The symmetry was clear. Six-O had the statistical odds, the superior creation, the better of this fetid lower. . . animal! An animal! A worthless molecule who would no more make an impact on the course of Galactic History as the smudge of grease and stain of war on his armor would. His irrationally abbreviated life barely long enough to even understand it's own reasons for being here.

Oh would he know vengeance, oh would cruel retribution follow this blue ape from here across the Stars.

From the vocoder music, music Six-O did not realize would come to play began to breathe life to their fiery surroundings.

The screens, they flickered again.

Not just him! NO! His family! His children! The children of those children and their families! For one thousand generations would Six-O enact his revenge! For one thousand generations would Six-O pull heads from bodies, and peel flesh from bone -- blue leather, for the holstering of weapons that would spell their demise. . . Chiss blood, Trasks' blood, to oil his joints!

Forever he would raise and slaughter these Trask Cattle. . . murdering long in to the great infinity. As a God they would remark upon him, the cruel figure of both their survival and their demise. A fire had started here today, a fire that would burn even after this Galaxy cooled and went dim. Yes, [member="Trask"] , blood of your blood would still suffer then. Six-O wondered if he could forecast that.

For now, as the great Chiss Soldier leaned out of his roll, and began once more to reacquire his aim on the Droid. The windows, the ones he had yet seemed to notice. The glass burst, and with devastating furor a backdraft of energy released. A cough of ash, and fire, smoke and shrapnel that blossomed grey as slate over the two fighters. Six-O would survive, did [member="Trask"]?

 

[Ashin Varanin]

PRISON
OBJECTIVE C
JUST OUTSIDE E WING
[member="Raziel"]
[member="Spencer Jacobs"]
OOC/ [member="The Hound"] has posted a LOA, so moving on.

As the avatar of Ashin’s focus stepped into E Wing, the heavy set doors slammed home. The tannoy system crackled to life. “Your executioners have arrived,” the voice called. “They don’t understand you. They’re going to kill you. But there is one last chance for redemption. Take up arms and secure your freedom. If you kill them, you will be set free. They are bad people,” he echoed the trigger word, carefully implanted into each of the twenty inmates in the wing. There was a great crash as all the doors swung open together. Four never even left their cells, their minds too far gone to follow even simple instruction. Yet within moments the air would be filled with blaster fire.

The door slammed shut a few metres in front of Ashin's face. She had her eyes closed anyway, so breaking line-of-sight with her illusory self wasn't an issue. She'd half-expected that out of the open door, but the sound still jolted her, making her reexamine her situational awareness. Blasterfire slammed into the Force Phantom inside E Wing. It took damage fairly realistically, though she doubted the twenty killers would notice.

Except they weren't just killers. They were also a subset of the people she was here to save.

The Force Phantom crumpled and died like a woman would crumple and die. Unnoticed, in a corner cell, the sleeping inmate arched his back and then quietly died. It had been his life-force that sustained the phantom doppelganger -- an unpleasant but necessary part of Vectivus' technique. And she was no illusionist, to pick and choose techniques for decoy purposes. That she knew Vectivus' art at all was an accident of ideology and opportunity.

Blasterfire slackened as the prisoners decided they'd killed their target and Raziel's command had been fulfilled. With a firm nod, Ashin stepped out of the cameras' blind spot and began carving into the outside of the door. It would take a normal sabre a good half a minute to get through. She dialed the cutting power up -- a feature of her advanced weapon -- and cut it down to fifteen seconds, so to speak. One big beveled triangle, fat side down, fell to the floor of E Wing with an almighty thud. A torrent of blasterfire poured through the gap.

She let the twenty prisoners get a good look at her, still alive, and then she booked it back toward the prison's decimated entrance. Howls rose behind her as they gave chase. Unnoticed to some, but presumably not all, the dead decoy faded to nothingness.

 

[Raien Keth]

Location: Carrying out the dying.
Objective A
Mission: Leave
Allies: [member="Jakkar"]
Enemies Specifically: None Remaining
NPCs: 1/2 Large Massassi Sith Spawn, 2/6 Sun Guard
Background NPCs: Remaining Temple Guard, AA Guns (Shooting at friendlies), Shield Generator (Offline).

Spoiler

Final post requested, so here you are!

Left to his own devices, Surtr’s final acts upon the battlefield were surprisingly non barbaric, which could only mean the fate of those that were left to him was going to be far worse than a quick death. Bodies of the injured or dead were ferried to the transports and rear Sith battle lines, those that could be salvaged before they were saved or before they died, were, but even the dead had use where they would be taken.

It was a grim business, to anyone who had a single shred of compassion left in their bones, but sadly when you had killed as many as some Sith here had, no such things were even a memory, they were just gone, replaced with the certainty of the act, its necessity to advance the power of the Sith, and more importantly Raien himself.

Those processed would return, and in a form their companions would not be wanting to see any time soon. Thus would begin their first lesson in what it was to fight the Betrayer, when they faced their own, in use and service to him.

Always a test.

[member="Jakkar"]

Would be contacted if he were to survive his fight, by a lone Massassi warrior, one of the few of Raien’s original cohort to survive, whereby he’d be given very basic directions by the giant Sithspawn. Follow and learn, or remain and perish. Finally a Kethanite black blade would be offered, but withdrawn, because the Sithspawn had yet to see if he was worthy of taking it. His reaction would show if he was, because Sith didn’t wait for handouts. It was a test, if he killed the sithspawn he would not be able to follow it to Raien, but if he let it keep the blade he'd show weakness to the creature. Such tests Jakkar could expect frequently to gauge his potential, at least while Darth Surtr remained alive, how long that would be, depended on how many more battles he fought in the armor that sustained him.

Fin for Raien.

 

[Ruby Rose]

Location: The Black Mercury
Objective: Protecting the stolen navigation data and the dropships
Allies: Galactic Alliance
Enemies: One Sith [member="Darth Kentarch"]

Ruby sat patiently, waiting as the sith dropped from seemingly nowhere from above, cloaked from both vision and the force as she concealed herself. As the sith took the data from the NavComp, she sat back patiently, merely setting up her recently made weapon for the upcoming battle. She stayed back, knowing that a fight between them there would only destroy one of their means of escape. As the sith made his way out, ruby tailed him, seeing the ship above them, the Jensaaria leapt up behind the sith, walking in, the oversized axe and let down her concealment directly in front of the sith.

"I don't believe you need to have access to those files. I'll be taking those back now, with you dead, preferrably with this ship still flyable. It would be a nice addition to my collection."

The crimsonette ignited her weapon, Winter's Fury, holding it over her shoulder as she grinned cockily at the sith, her emerald green eyes seemed to dance in excitement at the thought of the coming skirmish. Today, she would remove another one of the fallen from the galaxy and add another ship beside the Crescent. She launches a large force push at the dark cloaked figure, hoping to knock him off balance before firing a stream of black lightning his way, with the goal of knocking him out of the ship to the ground below.

 

[Raziel]

[member="Ashin Varanin"]

Raziel watched the holoscreen out of the corner of his eye. There was still work to be done after all. The air had a metallic tang that lingered on the palate from the soldering work. He lifted up his handiwork and checked all the connections before re-fixing the casing. It might not manage more than a few shots, and even then he doubted it would do much more than annoy Ashin Varanin. It didn’t matter, just another gambit to buy some precious time.

For a moment he felt a brief glimmer of hope as Ashin fell, but a moment later he sensed one of the inmates pass away, and the phantom faded. He was aware from the technique from his time as Headmaster of a small secluded order of Krath, but had not seen it in practise for a very long time. Hopefully it had at least taxed Varanin’s strength. Given the pair he knew were coming, it had probably been little more than a minor dent.

“They’ve all run off!” the prison guard called, drawing Raziel’s attention to the screen. His eyes were now glazing over, his lips drooping. Too much mental influence carried out hastily in the conditions.

“She’s welcome to them,” Raziel exclaimed. “I’ve touched many minds in my time, and three of those men were the worst sexually depraved deviants I’ve ever had the misfortune of communicating with.”

Raziel stood up from his chair, custom weapon in hand. His lower half was now garbed in prison garments, his face battered and bruised from the beating he’d been administered. The final guard fell into step behind him as he made his way to the F-3 checkpoint. A secure room, more a pillbox bunker than a checkpoint, now had two guards with stun rifles in it. The final guard waited on the far side of the corridor. Raziel waited further down, out of sight behind a ninety degree turn. He closed his eyes and attuned himself to the Force. One of his specialities was clouding the senses of others with the dark side. However, he refrained; right now he didn’t want Ashin to believe there was a powerful Force user ahead.

If Ashin carried on her journey she would be met by another open door and a wire mesh fixed across the corridor between herself and the guard post.