The Siege of Commenor [TSE/CSA]

[Gaia Sunaris Cadera]

Beth smiled under her buy'ce. She was happy to know she had a friend during all of this. She had lost Tom some time ago in the chaos and if she hadn't run into [member="Kat Decoria"]. Of course, Beth wished the Silver Jedi wasn't so stubborn and would have listened to her to just get out. Beth was terrified that she would be the reason that Kat got murdered, captured or worse tortured by the Sith. The Sith already knew Beth was at Sabarene, she could feel that much. Would they find her guilty by association for just being with her? She knew the Silvers and the Sith didn't get along by still.

She shook her head, "Oh, no worries. I've actually never met him. It's just... Family drama or something." She shrugged a little. She paused before they continued, however, sternly looking at Kat. "If something happens, you are to run and get to the others." She would not budge on such a thing. At all. She couldn't lose her friend like she was losing her family members. Everyone was dropping like flies as is... With that in mind, she continued walking towards her ship.

The empty streets already sent shivers down her spine. There was little to no sound except the occasional shuffle of people either still trying to get to the bunkers or the police or whoever else. She hoped Asa and the others would make it off Commenor and be okay. She hoped Kat would too. Chit, she hoped herself would be able to get away from the Sith and their terrors.

It happened all at once. Eight individuals appeared out of nowhere. Beth instinctively made a motion for Kat to get at least somewhat behind her. Beth had on beskar'gam - a very strong defensive armor that could take a strong beating before they would be hurt. Beth took a breath as she felt the darkness from the individuals swept through her emotions. How many people had these eight people killed alone? How many more would they kill? Would Kat or she be next? Bumps ran through Beth's body as she stared as they were quickly surrounded. She took a quick glance at each one. They all had different weapons, different ways to take them down. "Dar'jetii," Beth muttered under her breath as they insulted her directly.

She recognized them although she wasn't extensively aware of their history. She knew they were a group that's primary goal was to tear through Mandalorians. Her studies and HoloNet searching on it were that they were butchers, slaughterers... Of her people. The fact that there was eight in front of them meant that she and Kat had no chance to fight - at least not without being killed. Which meant... They were after her and they had found her. Beth heart sank in her stomach as fear and panic began to overtake her. The insult and the group that had found her confirmed it. One thing she did notice, though, was that they offered for her to drop her weapons - they didn't immediately want to kill her. Or... Maybe they just wanted to torture the chit out of her. Sparks of emerald shot off her hands as she balled them. She glanced towards Kat. "These... Monsters are trained to murder Mandalorians, we can't fight them," she whispered. The young girl took a deep breath after she spoke. The usually ecastic, happy, optimistic Beth was now completely and utterly terrified.

She held her hands up, the lighting finally fading. "I'm dropping my gun. I'll come willingly... Just leave her alone," she bargained as she unholstered her blaster and carefully sat it on the ground. Thankfully, the audio processors on her buy'ce muffled out her terror. Whatever awaited her... Was going to be terrible. She knew what happened to those the Sith hunted, targeted. Would being the Mand'alor's adopted daughter be enough to stop the worst of it? Or would she be another statistic that the Sith had eliminated?

[member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Caedyn Arenais"] | [member="Asaraa Vaashe"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Chasin City
On the outskirts of the shield, near the water.

Interacting With │ [member="Alexandra Feanor"] │ [member="Taeli Raaf"] (?)

Equipment │ Lightsaber - Armor
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The woman moved with strength, determination as she got excited by the fight she was in. It reeked of something a Sith would find themselves in, and whether or not Maliphant knew it, she fought like a Sith. A step back, a tightening of the belt, and Maliphant moved with enough force to avoid a direct strike as she swiped his waist; narrowly avoiding the first strike by deflecting with his blade before leaping over the second; landing with balance despite the assault;

She was quick, though her strength meant little since he was not a physical combatant, and they both knew it. The blade he struck her with now was a mild inconvenience in comparison to the strength held in the force, and the most he could do was maintain some safety from her strikes; enough to keep him alive at the very least. A quiet move helped deflect the strikes, not because they were inexperienced or lacked something, only because he’d transitioned himself into an almost entirely defensive stance in a moment; having very little experience fighting the numerous weapons she assaulted him with.

With his blade in tow, he found an opening between the assault, lurching the blade in a stab once more for the wound he had created before, hoping at the very least to tire her from holding one of the three weapons; though it wasn’t the real hope of the strike. As the blade moved, and the distance between them closed, the hand he’d kept out of the fight thus far rushed forward with a ball of energy, a solid compression of force power meant to breach not only the force imbuement no doubt being under a constant strain of the lightsabers hunger, but the secondary pressure to move it with the combined assault of the blade itself.

If the strike hit, it’d of sent the Jedi flying, the almost solid manifestation of telekinetic prowess enough to shatter ribs and punctured organs, enough even to throw either of them back. If it didn’t, then nothing would come of it, but he had already fully dedicated himself to the strike; all of it taking place in the matter of only a second or two, no more and no less.

 

[Alexandra Feanor]

Location: Chasin City
Equipment: Spear, Sabers, Armor,
Allies: CSA and Friends
Enemies: Sith and Friends ([member="Taeli Raaf"]?) [member="Darth Maliphant"]

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She had over committed, and soon a burning pain burst through her shoulder, the moments stopping as her eyes slid to the side and she pulled her body out of the saber's grasp. The blade passed through her shoulder as she lurched back and soon the hand started coming forward, the force condensed in his palm and causing her to stare for a moment, equally condensing the force infront of and behind her, almost like a shell.

She wasn't quick enough though.

The blast of force energy connected with the shell she had made and after a moment of stillness, her body shot back like a cannon ball, her hands having moved to instinctively protect her body as she rocketed back and connected with the tree she had been near before. Her body hit it and the sound echoed for a moment as the back portion of that shell connected first, softening her blow. She still hit it hard, as if thrown against it normally and for a few seconds, nothing happened.

Her head slumped a bit, the saberstaff leaving her hand and turned off, the spear turned shortsword laying there, barely in her grip as her hand twitched, unable to function completely thanks to the hole that now existed in her right shoulder.

She breathed hard with her eyes closed, and something overtook her mind as her eyes shot upwards and towards him. No malice existed in that stare, instead it was one of pity and almost apologetic as her hands both gripped tight for a few moments. Her left one held her to her feet as the right only provided a small support for her, holding onto the shortsword as best she could.

She had used the light many times before and one hand touched the tree behind her as she breathed in slowly. She cleared her mind and watched him, the look adding a smile as a few new emotions overtook her. The first being joy, something she had gotten to have once more, something that she could readily take on and use, he hand holding the shortsword rising and her left hand meeting it. She breathed in and continued to focus on that emotion before drawing on memories themselves and focusing on the night she had spent with Arekk by her side, or the meeting with Jairdain by the river, or the days on Veradune, where she had been given the chance to see her family.

And from that memory came the emotion she was looking for, the force collecting into her hand at an increasingly rapid rate and she smiled wider, in a euphoric like state as she looked at Maliphant, knowing he would be coming to finish the job. Her free hand drew the saber staff back into her hand, activating only one side and now being the one to stand on the defensive. All the while the force continued to collect into her, the idea of her love for vulpesen and her kids growing. The wish to defend them and the new family she had been accepted into. The Jedi that had put their trust into her, the student she now had standing beside her most days and had not come this day for her own personal safety. Her memories of the long nights with Vulpesen coming to the forefront, the mornings and days spent watching her kids grow up when she had still been alive the first time around and now she stood there with her smile faltering, knowing that she couldn't see them as often anymore.

But that did not break her concentration, she merely treasured these memories and emotions far more with that fact and the force continued its rapid collection into her and when Maliphant was close her hands would shine and a blast of force energy would envelope the area. Light would pour from her at first in all directions before being directed towards the Sith, her hands still on the blades and waiting for him to attempt to disrupt her. She would not pause in the onslaught of force energy, more and more memories being drawn out of her to fuel this power. Love, Joy, Compassion, Kindness, everything she knew to strengthen the light was called on and she felt a bit sorry, but she was injured, she could feel damage inside and out. She had to end this sooner rather than later if she was to get out of here.

Hopefully without fatally wounding the young man infront of her.

 

[Nej Tane]

Location: Art History Museum/Fancy Shooting Gallery
Allies: [member="Ayessa Kroan"]
This guy: [member="Rook Lokar"]
Bad Guys, Objectively Speaking: Rohak Viszla


The disruptor pistol did it's dirty work- and Nej was more than happy to follow up with a second shot- when that son of a queen straight up went to tackle his lady friend. However, Nej was rudely interrupted by a blinding flash. He was blinded, stumbling around the art museum. In his confusion- he hit the button again, scrambling along the wall, all while screaming. He tumbled around- knocking over at least sixteen million credits worth of things, burning several paintings, destroying a few priceless artifacts- before he was all the way on the other side of the room, rubbing his eyes and coming to his senses.

It was then that Nej decided to run at the pair, and try to jump on top of the Mandalorian. Nej had a few factors making this a bad move- it was far, he was tired, he telegraphed, and he was going to make a big leap towards the pair at the end of it-

The flashbang really did rattle the old smuggler.

 

[LT-137]

Location: Sewers -> Manhole -> Surface near Eastern Generators
Allies: The Sith Empire | The Golden Company | [member="Belphaegor"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Enyo Typhos"] | [member="Sebastian Thel"] | [member="Heca Foliou"] | [member="Xevek Rakama"] | [member="Kor Vexen"] (Distant) | [member="Adrian Vandiir"] (Distant)
Enemies: The Commenor Systems Alliance | [member="Jyoti Nooran"] | [member="Josh DragonsFlame"] | [member="Loreena Arenais"] | [member="Saka Amara"] | [member="Charlie Nooran"] | [member="Jarael Belaerys"]
Objective: Breach and Clear - Secure the Area.

​

Despite the semi-chaotic din of the command module, Khonsu refused to give into the myriad distractions erupting all around him. He already was struggling to keep his attention focused solely on those gathered about the tactical hololith as a portion of his circuitry-impregnated visor filled with rolling screeds of data. They detailed the movements of his various Cohorts and the deployment patterns of his vehicles. They also listed out expected hostile forces, alongside their known and recorded outfitting. There were smaller, more noticeable amendments that were made that listed out a hundred speculations as to reinforcements from other city sectors, along with enemy armour projections. The Sun Guard fought against this rolling tide of information, knowing that it was important, but willed himself to keep his attention on the tactical table before his gilded person. His earlier and lingering burst of rage did little to ease his thoughts, as the cooling embers flickered with seeded spite - as the name of his Praetor scrolled across his vision. It was something completely inane, but his reaction was almost undoubtedly and unnecessarily volatile.

The fires of his smouldering rage were stoked but weren’t entirely kindled, as the Thyrsian slid his tongue between his teeth and clamped down. It wasn’t enough to quell the torrent of emotions building up within his breast, but it was enough to force his thoughts elsewhere - which would inevitably lead towards his intended result. When his blood no longer began to boil, Khonsu blinked away the feed of data and listened in as those around him made their introductions. The most notable of the gathering, at least the ones he didn’t know whose aura's drawn the attention of others, introduced themselves as the disfigured Matsu and the pale-skinned Belphaegor. Curiously enough, neither of them had attached their titles or various appellations to their name; something that was common amongst the rank-and-file of the Sith Order, as it fed into their vanity. However, the fact these Sith didn’t fall prey to such simple acts of hubris, spoke to their deadly and dangerous nature.

They didn’t need to list out their notable achievements to garner respect from their colleagues and instead allowed for one’s imagination to fill the gaps. There was one thing of note that assured one’s dominance over the other, which was the loving affectation of apprentice bestowed upon the pale-skinned man. It seemed this man, much like the Thyrsian himself, was under the tutelage of another - meaning that they could relate on some level. However, it was through his master’s teachings, and his own years of experience as a Mercenary, it was not something that Khonsu would ever reveal - much like their titles. The reasoning behind this was to keep his cards played close to his chest. They would’ve likely sensed his potential, but otherwise showed little interest, as others gathered around the table.

Whilst the Sith, who daubed herself as Matsu, looked towards a woman named Enyo, her apprentice had allowed his attention to fall upon the Sun Guard. The man spoke of his prowess in the tournament and was impressed with his skill; regardless of the poor outcome after having fallen prey to the shifting tides of fortune. Khonsu gritted his teeth as the memories of the past threatened to rise, like some ashen revenant, from the depth of his consciousness. He had lost to a Cultural Rival - a Mandalorian - of all people. That cut deeper than any blade and stung sharply when he had been called to his Master’s vessel. After the man had expelled his praises, the Thyrsian’s dark, shrouded, eyes snapped towards the pale-skinned Xenos breed and narrowed. “When it comes to the battlefield,” He said through thinly pressed lips. “Skill means nothing. It’s a whirlwind of fury and chance. A skilled bladesman, or even a titan of war on the sands of the arena, could be parted from his mortal coil by a lucky strike from a Chattel-slave with a knife.”

Khonsu snorted mirthlessly. “However, I appreciate your praise of my exploits. It’s good someone noticed.”

From that point onwards, there was little of note that transpired between the Conclave, save for the briefing that was made by Agent Thel. The man had been previously silent until that point in time; taking centre stage when his present task was complete. The hololithic map before him had altered and changed as he spoke - matching with the expected projections and details that scrolled across his visor mere minutes before. Khonsu’s eyes danced from one materializing image to another, drinking in as much detail as he could. It was not only his duty to ensure that he was well-versed in scouting reports compiled by the Sith-Imperial Legion, but it was also his responsibility to see to the proper dissemination of information through the ranks of his Thyrsian Legions. Information was power, within the modern age, and the more that one side had over the over - meant that the advantage was for the taking by those willing to seize on it.

So, as the Agent spoke of weaknesses and possible insertion points, the Sun Guard made note of them and began transmitting them to the Thyrsian BattleNet. As he stood there, silently gripping the edge of the table, the Twisuns legate began ordering his men into positions that would support their advance towards their entry point. They would advance, as one, alongside echelons of the Sith-Imperial Legions to draw the enemy’s attention away from their Strike-team and utilize their exotic weaponry to bypass the defensive curtain currently encapsulating the Capital City. Such was one of the many reasons why the Sun Guard were brought to the world of Commenor - as their solarized weapons chewed through deflector screens as if they were non-existent. None within the shields would feel safe or hold onto the last vestiges of hope, as their forces would be assailed by dozens of vehicles and mobile Cohorts of his Gilded Warriors. He only wished that he could’ve been there to bear witness to their faces as their barriers failed them, and their comrades were rendered unto ash by the plasmatic fury of the Sun.

However, Khonsu mused that his work with the Strike-team would provide him enough of a reaction with the Commenori Soldiery; which the man resigned himself to relish the inevitable fear that would paint their expressions when the generators came crashing down. It would be enough to amuse him for the time being - well - at least until the Strike-team was given free reign to sweep across the battlefield.

Then, that’s when the fun would begin.​

​

Centurion Torian Pierce snorted with mild amusement, as his pain-addled eyes bore witness to the sight of the Golden Company’s Eradicators moving towards the defensive curtain that encapsulated Capsin City. They were gilded spires of shimmering malice, wrought in Thyrsian steel, and carried forth upon spindly legs that were - comically -insectoid. Their enormous chittering forms were supposedly built in reverence of their Gods; a fact that the former stormtrooper had found amusing, as the Thyrsian’s had reportedly slain their gods in their Age of Heroes - when they became too troublesome. That, or he had misheard his newfound coven of brothers when they spoke of their devout admiration of the Twinned Suns. Either way, regardless of the truth of the matter, the damaged man relished what he saw.

That was until his Stellar Tribune had stolen all mirth from his scarred, lipless maw. The man, like any other soldier within the Sun Guard, was clad in the gilded plates of their powered armour. However, unlike the others within the legions, this Tribune wore a permanent scowl across his face - as is engine coolant leaked into his morning gruel. Add that to the fact that the figure decided to approach the Centurion at a forced march? Something was wrong, and even Torian’s damaged mind could reason it had to do with him. “What is it now, Tribune?” the Bakuran Berserker, growled as his visor-bound eyes swung towards the advancing mass of golden warplate.

“You dare,” the Tribune snarled; raising a taloned hand as if to strike his undisciplined subordinate. “You will show me respect, Whelp. Even your damaged mind should know to cow yourself before their betters.” Torian chuckled as he heard such an outlandish statement. It was a low-throaty sound that echoed through his armour’s vocabulator, that would remind someone of boulders being ground to dust. “You?” He said through a lipless grin. “My better? I’ve seen you fight in the bouts against our brothers. Your stance is weak, and you hit like a wailing, snivelling child!”

The Tribune was now visibly enraged and his armoured hands began to shake.

“You best watch your tongue, Centurion. Our Legate’s favour will not save you from a blade in the back.” His words were venomous and undoubtedly hissed through clenched teeth. This was the first time that Torian had ever seen his Commander react like this, meaning that his words had cut deeper than he could’ve ever imagined. Had his mind not been damaged, and his personality been less blunt and uncaring; it was likely he would’ve gone with a more subtle approach. The slow poison, that only the cognizant few could ever recognize without the clarity of hindsight. But, as he was a damaged and emotionally stunted person, such weaponized words belonged to cowards and politicians - not to warriors.

“Centurion,” the Tribune continued as his blood began to simmer and his anger slowly ebbed. “I want you to ready the Bladebreakers and the Myrmidons for battle. The Sith-Imperial Legion is making a push for the City and would be honoured if we joined them. So stop gawking at the Eradicators and meet up with your assigned Regiment, before I have you flogged for disobedience.” That made the former Stormtrooper chuckle, once again. “If that’s what you’re into, then there are no judgements here. But,” He said before gathering up the Mortalis and tossing the weapon’s massively toothed head onto his shoulder. “As all things in life, be ready to pay for your pleasures.”

Without waiting to see his Commander’s reaction to his biting words, Torian turned away from the stacked crates from where he made himself comfortable and began marching down to wear his Cohort was beginning to gather.

These men and women were nothing like their Unit’s Leader; as their minds weren’t aflame with the ticking cybernetic implantations crudely mounted within the meat of their brain. They weren’t governed by impulse and could control themselves once they were embraced by the tides of battle. However, despite these surface differences, the Centurion’s Cohort matched their Commander’s martial prowess and was rife with specialists who prized ferocity on the battlefield above all. Well, aside from the spoils of war they would reap with every thrust of their spear or hacking blow from their swords. They were named the Bladebreakers for that very reason, as their blades broke in almost every encounter due to the undue stress they’d place upon them whilst fighting their contracted enemies.

He found them near the forward echelons of the encampment, sharpening their proverbial fangs for the inevitable battle to come. With a lipless smile peeling across his heavily-scarred visage, Torian hopped down into the dugout they were using for cover and pressed his gilded armour into the dirt. “It won’t be long now,” He said after giving his soldiers various gestures of camaraderie - ranging from a clasping of vambraces to a loving shake of their golden pauldrons. “Once that strike-team comes through, we’ll be amongst these Commenori Dregs and show them the price of their feeble defiance.”

There, the Bladebreakers would remain; sharpening their fangs in preparation for the final act of violence. Watching; Waiting, and silently cursing the fates for having them endure such a protracted siege against these craven wretches.

All they needed now, was the order to advance to be given - then the city would drown in its own blood.​

​

In the moments before they began their long trek towards the external sewer entry, Khonsu knew that he would have to find something to cover his gilded armour. Something that would allow his mechanized form to blend into the darkness that now draped itself over the encampment like a suckling babe’s blanket. There were sporadic flashes of plasmatic light, as the various artillery pieces unleashed their deadly payloads, bombarding the shield and the saturating the ground afore it with deadly, coruscating energy. In addition to that kaleidoscope of light filling the sky, were the returning artillery strikes, which flashed across the sky and hit targets unseen by the naked eye. His golden plates would’ve flared with brilliant radiance, mocking the rest of the Strike-team as they adorned themselves in various shades of black - leaving him to be the sore thumb of the group. He wouldn’t have it, nor would he be the one to jeopardize the mission at hand.

Thus, the Sun Guard returned to the group, scant seconds before they would depart; with a shadowsilk wrap draped across his armour - shrouding the shining panoply beneath its billowing folds.

He remained silent as they carved their way across the battlefield towards their location; thinking of nothing but what awaited him beyond the shield. The man had elected to travel light, carrying nothing more than a sheathed sword lashed about his waist and a pistol clamped to his gilded armour. Gone were the various additions to his wargear that were oft seen amongst the Sun Guard; as their mission called for speed and stealth, rather than the hammering blows his forces were infamous for. Khonsu wouldn’t need such heavy weapons for the battle to come. The man figured that they earned their rest, and knew that even with his ‘paltry’ offerings, he would be more than a match for whatever sought to deny their advance.

It was in keeping with both his Master’s teachings and the militant doctrine of his culture. He would draw the enemy in with the grandest deception of them all and would snuff out the fires of their hubris before they had the chance to spread.

When they had finally reached the rushing waters of the storm drain, Khonsu and his hand-picked Cohort of Sun Guards - known as the Myrmidons - pressed their armoured forms against the surface of the duracrete structure. It was there that they remained in silence, save for the gentle purr of active-armour joints and the subtle sounds of the wind dancing through their shadowsilk cloaks. They collectively waited for the order to advance into the storm drain but listened in as their supposed escort detailed new information. It seemed the enemy had a competent commander; who recognized the risks their city held - especially when it wasn’t fully secured, or sealed by the protective graces of the projected shield.

That brought a smile to Khonsu’s face. There was a chance that he would find himself pitted against a capable foe this day, rather than cutting a swathe through the faceless masses of unworthy souls.

Not long after an encrypted signal was sent back to the primary Sith-Imperial encampment, the group had made their insertion into the storm drain. Those who were unfortunate to find themselves bereft of a fully-sealed helmet scrunched their faces in disgust, as deeper and deeper they went - the fouler the stench became. The Sun Guard were thankful that the only thing that assailed their collective sense of smell was the sickly-sweet aroma of their cinnamon scented oils. With pistols in hand, they moved silently alongside their fellow operators, doing whatever they could to keep their heads on a swivel and ensure the lights of their armour were fixed forward.

Their progress through the sewers was slow; as every time a concealed device was located by the collective systems of the strike-team, they would take pause whilst it was safely disarmed. Not only was this meant to safeguard the lives of those currently spearheading deep into enemy territory, but it was also meant to preserve the element of surprise. It would’ve been pointless to charge through the entrapped corridor, as not only would they be more outnumbered than they already were, but the enemy would have time to entrench themselves outside their exit point. They’d be walking into a deadly crossfire that could’ve been easily avoided. Thankfully, the Operators of Section Thirteen knew what they were doing, and recognized the consequences of failure.

They had to be successful, lest they faced their Master’s wroth.

As they had rounded a corner that brought them towards another duracrete junction, stained with years of sentient refuse, the Strike-team received a transmission from Agent Thel that carried with it the architectural layout of the City’s sewage system. Khonsu was elated; not only because of the results from the Imperial Agent’s hard work but that they weren’t far from where they would need to surface. No longer would they trudge through the toxic and aqueous muck and watch in silence as others went about their assigned duties. He’d finally be able to throw himself into the thick of the action and suppress the memories of how they got into the Capitol through the ebbing flows of unfettered violence. Whilst his focus was elsewhere, the Strike-team was divided - as elements were sent to intercept the Daughter of the Commenori Queen - who had been spotted in the sewers by the Operators in the vanguard.

Khonsu only hoped that the youthful woman wasn’t able to broadcast their arrival to her allied forces, as that would make their ascent to the surface more troublesome than it needed to be. However, as the Sith named Matsu tore up the ladder and popped open the metallic cover - there was no blaring klaxons, nor sudden storm of plasmatic fire. They were, for the time being, still shrouded in the advantage of surprise. That was good. When she stood aside and allowed for those behind her to spill onto the street; the Twisuns Legate was the third body to race past her with an acknowledging nod. With their infiltration complete, the Sun Guard began to fan out in the area before them, taking whatever positions they could find amongst the sparse elements of cover dotting their exit point.

“Keep your eyes open,” Khonsu said across their shared channel, as he took a knee and swept his primed pistol towards a dozen alcoves where possible threats could linger. “We can’t afford an ambush that this critical stage.”

 

[Mara Rockwell]

[member="Mythos"]

"Miss?" ​

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..........​

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"Hello?"​

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..........​

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"Ma'am?"​

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The words seemed to echo to her from across the oblivion of sweet nothing Mara had surrendered too. She vaguely felt a hand on her forearm, then something stabbing in her elbow, like a needle. Mara was pretty familiar with needles. They were bringing her back, back to the simulation. She opened her eyes, the air was thick with soot. Over her stooped a new trooper, wearing some different mask. He looked like a field medic, by the build of his armor, but she was no expert. A few other bucket heads were looking at her curiously.

"Huh? Uh? What? Where am I?" she scratched her head.

"Easy does it, Ma'am, there was an explosion."

"Uh? An explosion?" Mara squinted, "The last thing I remember.... was the club. Going in.... for a few drinks," fragments of memory came to the blue-skinned hacker that somehow had found its way into her mind, through the intense alcohol consumption. She sat up, the soldier guided her up with his hand. "Funny, there was some other guy--Philip. With the same face as you, a few minutes ago. Where's Philip?"

"Private Darigon is dead, ma'am. He jumped on you to save you from the blast."

Mara managed to stand, wobbly, against the medic's protests. She sniffed, "What a dumb queen." Her response caught all the soldiers off guard. Mara wiped the layer of gray dust off her face. There was nothing she could do for her rave clothes, aside from the dust and soot, there was blood. Probably Philip's. She pointed at the Medic, "Ok, New Philip, here's the deal, don't be dumb like him. We need to find GoKin."

"Who?" he asked in a puzzled tone.

"Mythos. The dumb queen is somewhere around here," Mara said, "He owes me an anniversary, and a lot​ of 'splaining."

The Medic tilted his head to the side, taking a transmission from his helmet, "He was just found, alive, in the senate building rubble. We can take you to him--"

Mara shook her head vigorously, "There are some battles a girl has to face on her own."

She marched down the rubble--well more half climbed, half stumbled, half slid, half bouldered. Yes, that makes up more than a whole, but Mara liked to put in 200% to everything she did. When the blue hacker found Mythos standing next to a new pile of armor in a dented can without a scratch on him, she picked up a pebble, and this time with more accuracy, tossed it at his face. If it landed, it wouldn't hurt, but it would be an annoying way to let him know hey, I'm over here.

"Hey, GoKin," she shouted at him for good measure, "You gonna give a girl a ride off this rock or you gonna keep on being the Forerunner for Galaxy's worst Boyfriend?"

She was still mildly buzzed, fighting off a concussion, and trying to ignore the sounds of the sirens telling her it was sleepy-time (as well as the glittering sparkles before her eyes), but Mara was definitely herself. Granted the two week long bender and the massive explosion took their toll on a girl. She was badly dehydrated, sleep deprived, malnourished, and very exhausted. If that wasn't enough, she had sprained her ankle, was missing a heel, had scraps and bruises along both her arms and legs, the prior mentioned concussion, and the early onset of major mental trauma beginning to find its way in her frail psychie. Despite her bluster, 'Lil Blue was far from ok.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Chasin City
On the outskirts of the shield, near the water.

Interacting With │ [member="Alexandra Feanor"] │ [member="Taeli Raaf"] (?)

Equipment │ Lightsaber - Armor
___________________________________________________________

As Alexandra rushed through the air, Maliphant wasted no time to take advantage of the situation; watching as the Jedi slumped against the tree. He didn’t know if she underestimated him, but as he rushed forward he realized there was something beneath those eyes that threatened his very nature. She carried with her some unseen power, and only as her hand raised did he realize what was coming.

Levicitus rushed forward towards her chest, only a few inches from her as the force light erupted. As a blindness began to take his sight, Maliphant gritted his teeth and took a hold of his single advantage, the dual phase nature of his blade; watching at the last moment as the blade more than doubled in length in the direction of her chest. That was the last thing he remembered before a searing pain overtook him.

A terrifyingly excruciating power launched him from her, as if the force of a sun had directed itself as retribution on his skin. It was terrifying, terror filling his mind as he concentrated all the energy he could on his skin to ensure he would live; but the pain was still there. The leather of his armor began to tear and sunder, each alchemized to hold back his prowess in the force, while his lightsaber was thrown from his grasp some meters away.

Finally subsiding, Maliphant was grounded on his hands and knees, almost nude as steam rolled off his skin. It had taken from him so much energy, so much power to stop it from destroying him and everything he was; but exhaustion had taken his place, as he began to cough in pain, using what strength he had left to hold him off the ground.

It was impressive at least, that he even survived let alone still held himself up on the ground, but the severe strike had laid him out; quietly recovering from the blow he had just received. His outwards senses were almost deafened as he was overcome, his chest heaving as he tried to desperately come back to power he was meant to have.

 

[Rook Lokar]

As for Rook? He remained behind his cover, not in cowardice but in common-sense. A Jedi and Mandalorian wasn't a pair he was interested in diving between, that was one way to find yourself with a searing and piercing would through your abdomen or a blaster bolt right between your eyes. Either way, it wasn't happening. His return was almost pointless, really. He came here to do nothing but stand there and think? A poor choice if there ever was one, really. Ayessa, however nice she may be, wasn't worth all this damned trouble.

Rook was cautious, and rightfully so. Once an object seemed to move in their direction, even the slightest bit, he threw himself behind the wall. His body tensed, shielding him entirely. It went off, and he felt nothing but a high pitched screech in his ears. "Ah." He hissed in pain, bending over as he lent against the wall. He wasn't thinking now, he was recovering. It might be better to leave as soon as he can.

[member="Ayessa Kroan"] - [member="Nej Tane"] - [member="Rohak Vizsla"]

 

[Mythos]

Location: Senate Ruins
Allies: TSE [member="Mara Rockwell"]
Enemies: CSA and words
Objective: Pop the question

There comes a time in every man's life when he must chose the life he is living or at least take a chance on a whim. As Mythos stood there, over rubble and bodies, over corpses of both allies and enemies he saw his sapphire approach him. The armour he wore was scratched and dented, stained with both his blood and the blood of his enemies, his face much of the same.

He smiled at her, picking up his axe and replacing the powercells of his armor as she approached all the while taking a phirk box from inside his armor and placing it in his right hand.

As he walked he took the last of his Dark Bota and began stuffing it in a white wood pipe with his left. He was still a bit fuzzy because of the extertions of power he had shown against [member="Aten Ramses"] but he could, after that Force Drain, go a few more rounds.

"Mara My love. You look downright enchanting with so much blood and bruises" He replied while taking a long draw on his bota pipe, smoke billowing from his lips like a small furnace burning wheat. His ax rested on his shoulders straight, the hand gripping it having the small phrik box held between his fingers.

As he arrived twelve inches from her he took the time to admire her face and appreciate her busted up body. He tilted his head as he examined the damaege. His yellow orbs scanned making mental notes of the more severe licks and cuts while musing over the smaller ones.

He took a knee to see if she was stabbed or shot in the torso arms or legs. "You got pretty banged up. Before we leave the rock you are going into a bacta tank. Force help me if anything is infected." That last one wss directed at her foot, it was missing a heel and it looked bad.

He looked up at her and as he did a particularly large explosion could be seen from where both were standing, the yellow glow of sunset and the firery smoke of burning buildings and corpses made the moment romantic in a bloodthristy, insane warlord kind of way.

Mythos sighed knowing he would be lucky if she even adressed the question... but he had to try. Mythos had never been faithful to any female in the galaxy until now and it was not out of fear, mostly. The phirk box opened and revealed a special ring, state of the art with technology 'borrowed' from the old Sith Assassins. Inside it had a reserve of glitterstim that regerated with some common ingredients, worked as a hacking/slicing tool as well as an espionage holotransmitter and it was very beautiful. [member="Lady Kay"] had always said 'Men Like Him Never change', yet here he was, leaving the brothels and wenches of Midvinter for the lady who shot him with a rocket.

"[member="Mara Rockwell"]. I have to ask. Will you marry me?"

 

[Darth Prazutis]

As [member="Beth Australis-Mantis"] put her hands up and surrendered the team immediately closed in binding her hands, while one attached an emp device to her jetpack shorting out the device and jamming her commlink. All the while those two in the front kept their blasters trained on both her and [member="Kat Decoria"]. As she mentioned sparing her companion the apparent lead one holding sheathed the power mace and unslid his blaster, apparently growling an order to one of the men. If she wasn't attentive, if she was gripped in fear she would only see the man take one step and fire a round right into her companion executing her right there. Reality however was quite different and he actually blasted her with a powerful enough stun round to knock her out, more than long enough for them to leave the area. Two of the soldiers flanked her on either side while the entire group fanned out around them and began to move.

The Emperor's Favored Sons, the Butcher-King's Men, the Shadow Hand's Scythe they had many names and with good reason. There was a time when the Sith and Mandalorians waged brutal war against one another and during that time if she had been in the same situation she never would've made it off the block, she would've died screaming. But they instead guided her with swiftness through the city blocks, down into tunnels and out to a landing area. Apparently there was a concentrated search because a good many of these dark armored Blackblades were searching, now filing into a Ferrata-class Assault Transport. She was brought before a rather ornate looking guardsman who stood out from the rest, while there were subtle nuances on their armor that someone with awareness of their ranks could pick out just what they mean, this individual wore an ultrachrome plated version. This was Major Tiamat the Dragon. The officer pointed and she was forced into a seat and wedged between two of the troopers while the rather imposing officer's annunciator growled as she apparently spoke to someone through that encrypted channel, the officer than turned back towards Beth.

Some time later...

It was a quiet ride as the transport climbed high into the sky no one spoke to her, those silent soldiers simply restrained her in her chair while the Blackblades moved among themselves. Unlike other soldiers who might've been eager to get their helmets off and relax in the calm of the transports these legionnaires did no such thing, they remained ready and not a single helmet came off. As the Ferrata-class transport docked into the hangar of the Behemoth they filed off and she was once again yanked out of her seat. A pair of guardsman escorted her behind Major Tiamat as she walked through the hangar and to the tram. While she might not have seen the ship its cavernous interior gave her a pretty good clue of where she was. A crimson manifestation of an AI appeared on a small display "Well done. The Highlord requests you bring her up personally." The AI said in a demonic rumbling, the Major merely nodded and the AI disappeared.

The tram finally stopped some time later and she was guided before a pair of massive double doors where three members of the Imperial Crownguard stood. The two soldiers handed her off to two of the royal guards while Major Tiamat gave the third one her electrostaff. She turned to Beth "If you dare to try and brandish a weapon in the presence of the Emperor you will die screaming." The officer said and with that they entered.

​

Throne Room of the Sith Emperor

A great throne of black iron laced with blood red runes and sigils of the dark side sat atop a raised dais and eight Nerean Crownguard stood along the back wall with four on either side of the throne. In front of her sat [member="Darth Carnifex"] himself and the towering Lord of Lies, the Shadow Hand Darth Prazutis in his own position alongside the throne. In this deep cavernous chamber the dark side swirled like a maelstrom that added a weight to the very air, it was smothering, nauseating even. The light and all hope died in the very presence of the two men who she was brought closer and closer towards, their eyes burning like two molten orbs. It almost felt difficult to breathe in the presence of these beings of pure darkness that watched her with scrutinizing gazes. They occasionally turned and whispered to one another their words alien in origin. Both men stood like twin towers easily eclipsing eight feet in height clad in similar suits of dark armor capes trailing behind them.

The Crownguard forced her to kneel a healthy distance from the throne and held her on either side and they pulled her helmet off. The Shadow Hand merely gestured and the men stepped back leaving her on her knees "You're a slippery one Bethany Australis-Mantis. You fled from Sabarene with your tail between your legs. I wonder...does the Mand'alor know of what you've done?" He said flashing a murderous grin as he stared into her eyes, his glare was enough to break even the strongest of wills "I suspect not but we will find out soon enough, once she arrives." He finished letting the fear of his words sink in. He knew that Mand'alor had no idea just what happened behind her back, otherwise she might've chosen a different set of words when she spoke with his nephew. He watched carefully for a reaction.

[member="Lady Kay"] | [member="Yasha Mantis"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Emperor had removed his battle plate for something more traditional, more relaxed as he settled into the security of his inner sanctum. Black and burgundy robes hung loosely from his muscular body, spilling out around him like a pool of oil as the Mandalorian girl, a child really, was escorted into his presence by his Crownguard. She was forced to kneel and remove her helmet, revealing her face to the entire assembled Sith and their vile lackeys.

"Welcome, young Mandalorian," spoke the Emperor with his arms outstretched in greeting, "We've been expecting you." The Shadow Hand spoke next, chastising the young girl on her reckless and impulsive actions following the debacle at Sabarene.

At the same time, a message would be sent by AQUILA to the transport carrying Yasha informing her to board the Behemoth with all the haste and expediency befitting an emergency. He would inform the Mand'alor that the Emperor had, out of the graciousness of his own heart, captured a traitor to the Mand'alor's authority that had been attempting to murder her own daughter, Adara; who was also in the safe hands of the Emperor's nursemaids in an ancillary chamber adjacent to the throne room.

A group of soldiers would be waiting in the hangar bay to escort her to the Emperor.

[member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Yasha Mantis"] | [member="Beth Australis-Mantis"] | [member="Lady Kay"]​

 

[Yasha Cadera]

Location: Hell Wolf to Behemoth
Objective: Collect her wayward family
Engaging: [member="Darth Carnifex"] [member="Darth Prazutis"] [member="Beth Australis-Mantis"] [member="Kaine Australis"] [member="Lady Kay"]

The truth was more macabre than [member="Lady Kay"] knew. In deference to Yasha, Darth Carnifex stayed his hand as far as he had. If the Commenor Systems Alliance hadn’t hit the Sith blockade, there was one chance Yasha could have avoided the bloodshed at Commenor… it was slim, but present.

​

And in an instant it was gone. ​

The image of Mand’alor the Infernal did not fluctuate, nor did it waiver. Yasha stood perilously still, staring through the lenses of the wolf-helm.

“Kaine, my daughters.” A further truth. [member="Darth Carnifex"] had in his direct possession, both of Yasha’s daughters, adopted and firstborn. [member="Adara Raxis"] resided somewhere within the Behemoth, safe and well tended. [member="Beth Australis-Mantis"]’ armour pinged in the massive ship.

In the decanting expansion of time, Yasha Mantis realized Hell was separation. She never understood the draw parents had to their children, nor the love which flowed endlessly from elder to kin. Truth be, Yasha knew little of love, if she knew the sensation at all. Standing on the Command Deck of her Hell Wolf Star Cruiser, with signals from [member="Kaine Australis"] pinging… pinging… a twinge in Yasha’s heart turned to the uttermost ache.

“My babies.” The Infernal was a mother. Yasha craved the feeling of Adara and Beth’s embraces. She needed without restraint to sweep over their souls and snatch them up, hold them close. Safe…

​

… as Mandalore had to be safe. As she learned from Carnifex himself.​

Staring into the blue-tinted black and red eyes of Darth Carnifex’s holo, the Infernal’s mind rectified a statement of truth: Nothing mattered but family. Nothing mattered but the Mando’ade. No alliance was worth watching her daughters in various stages of collection outside of her sight.

​

How could she let it come to this? ​

Where was [member="Baiko no Kaho"]? Why was the Myrmadinas, her step-mother’s ship, residing unharmed on Commenor’s shores? Why was Darth Carnifex speaking whispers of a murder attempt on Adara? The Comm officer cut the holo.

“Keep pinging my step-mother and the Myrmadinas. Find out what happened.” Yasha’s boots squealed across the Command Deck. The shuttle, which would bear her was already prepping and Mandalorians scrambled.

“Mand’alor, there’s nothing but static on Baiko’s comm. It’s been dead since it last pinged on Sabarene.”

“Sabarene!? The feth was she doing there!?” When the comm officer only shrugged, Yasha kept moving. “Find out! Break the jamming, get me feeds on the Myrmadinas crew! Tell Australis!”

“Yes Mand’alor.”

The shuttle docked with the bravado of a hotshot pilot attempting to expediently impress. Hatch barely lowered by the time Mand’alor the Infernal swept out, her honour guard rushed to their positions.

“Ma’am… you’re not going to like what I’ve found.” In her ear, the Comm officer whispered. A crackling wail broke through the MBE-II. Adara's wail. Pure panic slid into Yasha’s ear, grabbing hold of the hammer and anvil inside and throttling them with her daughter’s terror.

Baiko’s voice, barking orders. Someone she didn’t recognize, a silken sound in the chaotic horror. Beth, trying to calm her baby sister down. The fibrous chords of Yasha’s musculature tightened and her boots thundered across the Behemoth’s polished floor. Her pace quickened.

Adara wailed. ​

The recording dissipated into static. Only the most base instinct to remain stoic in front of the Sith kept Yasha from bolting at a sprint down to the Emperor’s Throneroom and burst open every head inside until she had her daughter in her arms.

Only disciplined training kept the soldiers surrounding the Infernal in any semblance of keeping up. A diminutive figure kneeled before the ink-black scion of the Dark’s seductive call. Bethany. The leering crowd surrounded them, and never more had Yasha felt the oppression present in the Butcher King. A long departed piece of her soul roiled up from its' place in the Nether, proclaiming for the first time...

... caution had to win this day. ​

“Su cuy’gar, Emperor Zambrano you’ve won your victory, and such a victory to be retold many times.” The wolf-helm nodded in deference to the monarch on his throne, Yasha’s HUD veering in on Beth’s condition, while she seemingly stared straight at the perilous God-King. Alvarex's father.

“Bethany, get up. Where is your sister? Where are my aunt and step-mother?” Yasha’s snarling voice held no quarter for her adopted daughter. While the thought ‘at least Beth was finally in her armour’ pressed upon the back of her neck, the young mother gave no sense of joy in seeing her child prostrate before the Dark Lord and his nefarious uncle.

“Wuod er duer, Kaine? Wui' oli pi' koybudilr am i'ayl ruen? (What is this, Kaine? Why are my daughters on your ship?)” Yasha’s voice remained level and stern, her words flowing in her mother’s tongue.

 

[The Lurking Presence]

ALLIES: [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Heca Foliou"] | [member="Khonsu Amon"] | [member="Sebastian Thel"]
ENEMIES: [member="Loreena Arenais"] | [member="Jyoti Nooran"] | [member="Josh DragonsFlame"] | CSA
OBJECTIVE: Sabotage the Shield Generator
GEAR: Zelroth's Rest


Belphaegor had found the words of @Khonsu Amun rather delightfully diverting during this grisly journey. They'd provided an almost, trenchant, sort of view for the Inquisitor to gaze through, a window from which to speculate silently upon the man. Already, he was intrigued. On Maena, such wisdom was simply Gospel to every day life; even [member="Matsu Xiangu"] had found herself coerced to bow to the scripture. Veritably speaking, she was the top of the food chain in the New City of Idd-yha, but to trespass a single toe across the abstract borders of safety - was to present herself as a snack to the lunacy and violence of their World.

From simple Drunkards and Spice Heads, to Gangs and Cartels. Cults. Religions. The Monsters that clung to the crevasses of Society. Death lurked and breathed in every shadow, and every day was a Siege. Perhaps that played the largest Role in the absence of laurels and appellation. To Maenan's, that you yet clung to life, transcended such obsequious fawning.

But, the Thyrsian Intrigue would have to step aside - for now.

Staid hands transported the pale Inquisitor upwards out of the waste matter of prior misery, dripping sediment, courtesy of Matsu's robes, spattering his face and hair with every rung he climbed below her ascension. Earlier tensions between the two seemed to dissolve in the shared plight of the Sewer, and for a brief moment, they even shared hushed words.

"And here I thought you were beginning to become as stolid as Six, " brief banter, then he remembered they were supposed to be at odds with one another over misperceived betrayals.

Belphaegor listened as Matsu - with strenuousness force - hoisted the Manhole Cover up and out of it's frame; maneuvering it with a biting scrape across the duracrete above. Not daring an eye upward as she worked, he'd experienced the repulsive ecstasy of Commenori feculence enough for one Operation already.

Finally top side, he was all business. "Guide my hand, dear friend. " He breathed gently upon Zelroth's Rest, holding the weapon unignited in his right hand as he strode to a 3 o'clock position forward of the Party, and crouched beside the trunk of a parked Speeder. Out next came Khonsu, then S13, followed by the Myrmidons.

The streets were silent and lifeless in this Sector of the City; what revelry they were renowned for, bludgeoned to it's knees, by [member="Darth Carnifex"] and his Empire. High above the buildings that veiled the boulevards, the Shield rippled and cried, abused fiendishly by the barrage of Sith guns. Road lamps flickered above littered sidewalks and avenues, dormers and windows rattled; the interior worlds they so often advertised, black and unconscious.

As a tactical file, the Team slit through the twilight; simple shapes in the gloom, cutting along walls and empty storefronts. Disciplined. Stepping over abandoned luggage and valuables, items that had once felt precious, but now lay discarded in the rapid haste of evacuations. Ordered. The Target was close, rising just ahead in an immense clearing of City space, the behemothic CSA-DSG1 Shield Generator brayed angrily in to the night.

A fist rose, and movement halted.

This was ugly.

No less than seven thoroughfares fed access to traffic, vantage points that could house any number of Sharpshooters rose apocalyptically in too many directions to count. Any one of the nearest buildings could have held a simple Platoon, or more than a Batallion. Were it not for the sheer size of the Shield Generator, the risk of Ambush would have far outweighed the satisfaction of Duty.

"Disperse, " An S13 Operator spoke up in a soft hush just loud enough to combat the roar of the Generator, unphased by the daunting task. "Keep your eyes up, and secure these Avenues. " Captain Nutano whispered, "I want four on Overwatch. " She pointed each position out, unwilling to compromise the position with the glow of her Tactical Map. "We'll secure the demolitions. " Her final comment uttered towards Khonsu, respectfully allowing him to handle the skillful placement of his own men along their corridor of operation.

With Combat Harnesses and Satchels brimming with ordnance, the Captain fled towards the Southern face of the Generator with five men. Each of them equally armed with Pyro Denton Explosives, Flex-5 Detonite Tape, Bore Bangs and Ribbon Charges. It was a titanic task, but they were up for it.

The Shields had already stood too long.

Unfortunately, or, perhaps by happy chance; their Mission would not go down without a single shot fired. As a mere 20 Blocks forward along the Eastern Parkway, a Convoy of Commenori prowled towards the Generator. Two Armored Vehicles at the front and back of the column, kitted out with heavy anti-infantry weaponry, patrolled. With four unarmored passenger transports holding fifteen Soldiers each, between them. Approximate Arrival Time:

Seven Minutes.

 

[Asaraa Vaashe]

Location: Chasin City

Allies: CSA and Allies | [member="Caedyn Arenais"], [member="Loreena Arenais"], [member="Kat Decoria"], [member="Beth Australis-Mantis"]
Enemies: TSE and Allies | [member="Adrian Vandiir"]

Gear:

Spoiler

Kervanos
Svalinn
Fate's Dance
2 x Sunshot pistols
6 x Shiva Knives
3 x Achlys Grenades
2 x EMP Grenades
2x Thermal Detonators

​

That…was not what Asaraa had expected at all if she was honest with herself, which she invariably tried to be, at least in the depths of her own mind when it wasn’t whispering traitorous thoughts to her. She’d expected a fight, whenever she had seen the Sith they had always sought to close with the Jedi, to prove their superiority, even if it only existed in their own minds. She wasn’t to proud to admit that the Sith had thrown her off balance, his worlds triggering a reaction that had overcome her guards and left her too eager to charge him, to punch him in his face.

In all honesty, Caedyn had probably saved her life, well if not her life then had saved her from ending up in a much worse situation than she’d even been in, caught in the middle of a Sith invasion. She could feel them, the Sith’s very numbers almost pulling a dark could over the City as they advanced. The jedi gave the Sith one last look over her shoulder, imprinting his face on her mind. If there was one thing she could be sure of it was that the Force would throw the Sith and the Jedi together again before too long. Next time they clashed she wanted to be ready, be aware. She wanted to say that she wouldn’t be caught out like this again, but she knew herself better than that, being headstrong had always been a weakness of hers but she could at least aim to be better prepared next time she met him.

Pushing the Sith to the back of her mind the girl put her head down, letting Caedyn guide her through the streets, hopping over the rubble and detritus that the day’s war had strewn across the once clean streets of Chasin city. “You think we’re going to be able to fly our way out?” Her friend’s call into his comms unit had confirmed the worst of her fears, despite all their efforts the city was lost and they’d have no choice but to leave it for now and come back later to free the planet. The girl gestured towards the shape of the gigantic battleship dwarfing the skies, “It doesn’t look like they wanna let anyone off the planet if they can help it if that Sith's reaction was anything to go be especially not you. You know it's almost like there's something about you that makes you precious to them," She offered Caedyn a weak smile as she spoke, it was a pale attempt at humour but hopefully enough to break the tension that seemed to wrap around them, covering the whole city in a feeling very much like a mad panic. "I hope you’re a better pilot than I am, cause this is gonna get interesting.” Which, to be fair, wasn't hard, she might have a multitude of skills, but being an ace pilot was not amongst them. Pursing her lips for a moment in thought the girl tapped her glasses, “Odin, help Master Nooran evac as many people as you can and get the Sleipinir to Kashyyyk, I’ll meet you there."

 

[Zef Halo]

What Rohak was trying to do was not completely clear. He simply aimed to shackle the Jedi somehow without killing her which proved hard for him. He was no bounty hunter.

Something, or more like someone, slammed on him like a sledgehammer and the tackled Jedi below him. Air fled his lungs as the armor pressed hard against his spine. Flailing his arms and trying to get an elbow on the parasite on his back, he spat out:

"Get off me, di'kut.'"

From an outside perspective, the sandwich of humans looked both humerous and incredibly miserable.

[member="Ayessa Kroan"] [member="Nej Tane"] [member="Rook Lokar"]

 

[Kay-Larr]

Kay's remarks to [member="Darth Prazutis"] fell on deaf ears. Something else had caught both his and [member="Darth Carnifex"] 's attention. No doubt it was involving some other quarry that they were after. Hopefully it wasn't her daughter.

As everyone had exited her cell and the door was shut, Kay found herself alone for the first time since this whole attack started. Already it felt like weeks, but it was only a day. Too much had gone on during that time, too many changes in events happened in such a short span.

And now, now she had a moment of quiet.

She walked over to the bed and sat down, drawing her knees up to her chest and folding her arms on top of them before resting her forehead against them. Her body never shuddered, for she didn't want to cry. Not here. Not now. Physically she may be alone in the cell, but she was sure that she was being watched. Most especially by AQUILA. And Kay would be damned if she let that infernal AI broadcast her crying.

No. Kay's breathing was calm and even. She decided to use this time to reflect on what happened and what facts she knew. The inevitable attack had finally occured, and the shields did wonderfully from what she could tell. Perhaps later she'd have them throughout various parts pf the planet.

That is...if she gets back there.

Her brows furrowed at the thought. Would she be able to go back? Carnifex wanted a treaty signed. But then what? Would she be exiled? Or kept as a political prisoner forever? At least [member="Veiere Arenais"] escaped. She was quite certain that he'd do whatever he could to help Commenor and their family. There was no way that their people could turn against him now.

But what would her people be like during the occupation? Would they surrender completely and allow themselves to become brainwashed and blackmailed into the Sith Imperial ways?

There was surely going to be pockets of resistance. Somehow she and other loyal Commenori would find them. Then perhaps together they could rally some forces together and take their planet back. Oh yes, there were ways that it could be done.

But first she had to deal with those that betrayed them; betrayed her. [member="Mythos"] was at the top of her list for he enabled her former Master to find her and corner her. If that hadn't of happened, then she wouldn't of had to give up her people's freedom.

Prazutis was also on her list. And even though she couldn't strike him down now, at least she had the satisfaction in knowing that every day that she was alive, it served as a reminder to him of his failure. The great Lord of Lies wasn't perfect and neither were his methods. Love and loyalty beat out the terror and hate that he filled her with after he broke her. So perhaps in the end, he never did break her completely. Still...she longed for the day when their situations were reversed and it would be him imprisoned while she roamed free. Such a thought made her smile as she visualized him bound in that harness and bending the knee to her for once.

If she played the game well enough, it could happen...

But for now she had to be patient. Her niece [member="Yasha Mantis"] would arrive some time soon and that would no doubt include a lecture. Other than that there were no certainties. Yet Kay was determined to not have herself be used by the Sith to blackmail her niece. But how that would play out was anyone's guess.

Kay's stomach grumbled. She had hardly eaten all day. Would she be starved? Or given some slop to eat? The answers to those would come in time as everything did. She just had to stay patient.

 

[Kat Decoria]

Kat could sense the hatred of the Blackblade soldiers, she could have easily prepared both herself and Beth to run or even figure a way out of the situation. Sadly, Beth decided to surrender without a fight, a move that Kat struggled with not fighting against. Instead, she discretely planted a tracker on Beth's back. This way she could always find her friend again if Beth needed rescuing. Another move Kat made, was setting off the tracker on her wrist so that Asaraa could locate her, she knew that the soldiers wouldn't kill her, or at least they would die trying to. Easier to stun her and take their target than fight them to kill a Padawan.

When they aimed the gun at her, Kat spat at them in defiance, she flared her nostrils and took the stun like the badass that she thought she was. Once stunned, Kat reflected that it hurt more than she would have liked and crumpled to the floor. It took too long for her to regain consciousness, they had disappeared and there was no way that Kat could give chase, no, the only thing she could do was contact Asaraa. Tapping her comms, she got in touch with Asaraa once more.

"Hey, slight problem here. Tell Caedyn that the Sith just kidnapped Beth Australis-Mantis, then tell him that I am going to have some non-friendly words with him about why the Sith made such an effort to kidnap her." Kat was not in a good mood, she just lost her friend and now she wasn't sure if she should try finding Beth's ship and take it with her or find Asaraa and Caedyn and get the hell off this world.

[member="Beth Australis-Mantis"] | [member="Asaraa Vaashe"] | [member="Caedyn Arenais"]

 

[AMCO]

Location: Chasin City
Objective: Enlighten the Jedi.
Equipment: Right Arm, Lightsaber, Sith Sword, Sidearm, Jin'Wodasir [3].
Allies: The Sith Empire | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] (Distant) & [member="Khonsu Amon"] (Distant)
Opposition: [member="Caedyn Arenais"] & [member="Asaraa Vaashe"]

---

---

---

As words flowed forth from his mouth like a veritable fountain of less-than-wisdom, Adrian kept his senses carefully peeled at the young man before him. With a little luck, reinforcements would soon arrive, but alas, it would seem he would have to get his hands dirty.

"Oh shut up!"

Dispersing the telekinetic blast with a swipe of his right hand, he allowed a slight smirk to dance across his lips before dashing off in pursuit. Funny, how in his case the Jedi almost always seemed to strike first. After hearing the young man foolishly yelling his plans into his communicator, however, he allowed himself to fall behind, though he did his best to stay with them. Well, perhaps not allowed, but his skills had never lain in physical exertion, no, he was more a man of the mind.

Bringing his wristlink to his mouth, he opened an encrypted channel to the stealth corvette which had brought him to the system. "Kintavifaz, this is Adrian. I've got a pair of runners attempting to make it off-world from Polytech, unknown spacecraft, but likely something fancy. I want them alive."

That done, the smug young Knight attempted to follow his targets, using their signatures in the Force to track their rough position. He was confident in his crew, to be sure, but he could hardly allow them to think that they were getting off too easily; perhaps a Force Blast or two thrown at their starship would do the trick. Another smug smirk. Or perhaps he would be able to seize them and their ship, without having to rely on his own vessel at all.

 

[Jairdain]

Location: Chasin City neighborhood
Allies: CSA and their allies, eventually to meet with [member="Marina DeVoe"]
Enemies: TSE and their allies, maybe meeting [member="Darth Scuros"]
Objective: Evacuate civvies and hoof it

She didn't know if her quick thinking of causing the lightning storm had worked to give that pilot a chance to escape or not, but it didn't really matter. One thing Jairdain did know was she and that not quite Lykos weren't going to be meeting again. A time would come when they would, but it that was in the future. She would make sure it happened...someday.

Wandering the streets, she reached out with the Force to feel for the living still present. Many had already left the area and been evacuated. Not everybody had though and it was these she searched for. More than one group was present, but she made her way to where the largest was congregated.

In situations like this, it was probably a blessing she was physically blind. If she could have seen what she thought of as her home in its current state, she probably would have been crying. As it was, she moved along like the wind. Silent, but present and aware. Nothing moved to get in her way of her objective now and she had a clarity of mind that hadn't been there before.

What might have been some sort of religious facility or school was currently occupied by several families. A safe haven in these times of war, but they weren't safe on Commenor any longer. Approaching openly, one of the men came out and offered her shelter. She shook head though and pointed up.

"With all these ships raining down, this building is not safe. Come with me and we will get out of here."

Just how Jairdain thought she would get them out was beyond her, but they needed to move. Following the man into the building, the families started gathering together and now they waited for that evacuation.

 

[Loreena Arenais-Valhoun]

As Florence expected, her sniper shot signalled her ambush and location as soon as the soldier was taken out by her blaster rifle. Her instincts and training served her well as she was already on the move, crouched low in the tall grass. Dreadwind and the remaining members of her unit unleashed their arsenal with such fury, just as Florence had expected. The smoke grenades obscured the area, which both caused an issue, as well as an opportunity.

The Fringe Unit soldier continued her path to her left, moving away from the blaster fire and smoke. However the thermal detonator blast threw her back as the shockwave struck her. Florence held onto her blaster rifle as she was thrown twenty feet, landing on her back. It took a second for her to compose herself before she rolled onto her stomach and turned to face the enemy, once again eyeing one of the soldiers through her scope, her vision not entirely clear due to the smoke. Once again she pulled the trigger, her aim at the hip this time.

Death could come to her today. She knew that and accepted it in the same fashion that she accepted her next breath of air. As long as the Princess got away, that was all that mattered.



Meanwhile the old clunker of a speeder moved across the grassy field at a moderate pace. Lori's mind raced with a bunch of thoughts as she sat there with Hobbes, [member="Silfe Sosuri"] , [member="Jagger Swaggernaut"] and his companion. Why did [member="Sebastian Thel"] tell her that he was sorry? Surely he wasn't working for the Sith, was he?

Or was he?....

Lori's blood went cold. Sebastian knew who she was. And if he was working for the Sith, he'd no doubt give that info to his employers. He was obviously listening to her comms, probably hacked into all of the frequencies, so everything that they said was being monitored.

Hobbes noticed Lori's face pale. "Hey..You alright?"

"They're going to find us, Hobbes. They are looking for us.
If we can even get to a ship at the Canyons, they'll stop us from leaving. We have to hide!"

"The Canyons will give us plenty of cover. We could lose them in the mine shafts."

"I hope so...I really hope so..." Lori had never really been in a lot of dangerous situations before. Her mind moved to her brother. Hopefully he was okay. Hopefully [member="Caedyn Arenais"] got her message about where to meet her. And then her thoughts drifted to her parents. Hopefully her Mom was okay and not being tortured. And at least [member="Veiere Arenais"] was free. How that happened, she didn't know. But he was her hero as well as her Master. If only she got more training before this whole thing started.

The smart thing to do would be to stay radio silent, given that she knew her communications were being monitored, but she had to let her Dad know what she her plan was. So Lori brought up her commlink and connected to her Dad's frequency. ~Dad! It's Lori! If you can hear me, I'm going to the Twin Canyons. Hobbes says we can lose the Sith there. I'll come out when it's safe! Love you.~ For a moment she thought of crushing her commlink, maybe then they wouldn't be tracked so easily.

But no. There were other ways that she could be traced. And right now it was the only thing that kept her connected to her family.

All of them were spread apart, each one seperated from the other. Would they ever be reunited? Lori certainly hoped so.



[member="Belphaegor"] [member="Matsu Xiangu"] [member="Khonsu Amon"]