Invasion Thou Shall Not Suffer an Empire to Live | AoC invasion of CIS-held Siskeen & Ryloth

[Daegon Corvinus]

Location: Conference
Wearing: xxx
Objective: Negotiate
Equipment: Lightsaber
CIS: John Locke | Raven Thystle | Kyyrk | Faye Malvern | @Visanj T’shkali | Corius Harckon | Seraphina Corvinus | Lesya Kosarev | Luca Donskoi
AoC: Alwine Daye | Enlil | Gabriel Volturi | Annasari | Larentia
Other: Derek Dib | Holly Starstorm | @Anyone I missed

Crystalline eyes turned to look at the petite blonde which sat at the table yapping about like a tiny canine which thought themselves much larger and powerful than they were. A smirk pulled at his lips as a single thought came to his mind. Keep someone talking long enough and their true motives would be revealed. The reason for their delegation was not about helping Siskeen find its freedom. Their presence was about one thing and one thing only.

The systematic dismantling of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.

This was her fatal flaw. In her many words, Alwine Daye proved the Agents of Chaos did not care for the systems they purported to liberate. They truly did not care for the Brynadul threat, for if they did why were they not fighting them? They were the largest monster of all, devastating planets, committing acts of genocide. If they were such a threat to the galaxy at large then why were they so focused on the Confederacy? Was it not counterintuitive to remove systems from the largest military machine the galaxy had ever known when such a threat was looming? Would it not be better to hold a summit to determine how best to handle the threat of such evil?

No, the ignorant pup had betrayed herself, and fallen for Daegon’s provocation. Negotiation was not simply about crafting a deal, but it was about understanding your opponent. While this was not a battle of sword and shield, it was a battle of wit. In this Alwine had already lost.

The slender hand of his bride was found lest his fist find the face of the woman who dared to relegate the Angel of Thyferra to nothing more than a mere female. It was a calming presence. She was his light, the constant in a perpetual storm of hatred and anger which sought to overtake him. There was nothing ordinary about her.

His eyes moved to the other who had given an outburst ( Annasari ). No one had mentioned they were not wanted. Had his words irritated her or make her feel insignificant? Perhaps she was simply annoyed that Deagon was right? They were not needed to discuss the details of a Confederate world leaving Confederate jurisdiction.

“There is a difference between needed and wanted,” Daegon replied in a calm tone. “No one has questioned that you were invited, simply the necessity of it.”

What proceeded from there were more speeches, more posturing. Even the man at the door ( Enlil ) found himself voicing an opinion, albeit Daegon still could not determine who the man was or his purpose for being there. His presence seemed to be just as unnecessary, however, he did seem to present himself as the most neutral of all.

To say that Deagon was lost in the moment, his thoughts wandering off to places not important to the speeches being bandied about, was an understatement. It was the chime of the comm in his breast pocket which drew him back, and the sensation of a slender hand reaching to pull it out. The two had no secrets or boundaries with each other. Though this time, Daegon had wished Seraphina had left the comm alone.

Once again they were subjected to watch as another act of terrorism was displayed on the screen. This time it was a bomber leaving nothing but death and destruction in their wake. How could these insurgents claim they wished to see a free and liberated Ryloth if their actions did more to murder their own brethren than actually free them? None of this, the meeting in the Siskeen system, the presence of the Agents of Chaos, or the insurgency on Ryloth, was about freedom. It was about imposing another’s will over people who were free to choose.

Whether anyone wanted to use the word or not, Daegon knew exactly what it was.

Slavery.

He pulled the Angel of Thyferra close as her words chastised those present. They would land on the ears of all, not only the delegation from the Agents of Chaos, but on those of the Confederacy as well. Her innocence spoke more truth than anyone would want to stomach. This was their blood. These were their people. Lives were being lost, and for what end? Would they see a world devastated in effort of such freedom and then leave them be? That was not liberation, and it was no more just than the merciless rampage of the Brynadul.

Blue eyes turned to red as his wife began to cry. The handkerchief from his breast pocket and removed and offered to her as his comm chimed once more.

ANOTHER BOMBING!? ​

This time a fissure was left in the ground as reports of a heat storm flashed across his news feed. Daegon looked up from the device as the words of his friend landed on his ears.

“The innocent are always those who pay the highest price. Always. I wish to break that trend. Blood stains our hands through action and complacency. And humanity’s nature is about survival, destroying what they fear, and attacking that which is different. We should be better, we must be better. To rise above ourselves and strive to be the best versions of ourselves.”

Crimson eyes lifted to his friend, both of them touched by the dark side. It was no secret the two kept from each other. The care they both had for Seraphina was no secret either. Derek was moved by her kindness as Deagon could be, and the Demon of Thyferra was certain that the Viceroy of Siskeen was not unmoved or unphased by her tears.

Daegon spoke directly to his friend once more.

“The innocent are paying that price on Ryloth right now. While we sit here and parlay and discuss the secession of your system. You have said you wish help those in need, then do so, now. The need has never been more present. I implore you, send aid before more innocents are killed. I implore you, not as a delegate, but as your friend. Send aid.”

Daegon shifted his gaze to the delegation from the Agents of Chaos.

“You say that you are here for peace? Then offer aid as well. Condemn these acts of terrorism for what they are. Let us take advantage of the fact that we are in a room meant for negotiation and agree that our energies would be better spent saving the people of Ryloth than allowing this barbarism to continue. If it is peace and freedom you seek, then prove it. Words are nothing but vapor on the wind, but actions are concrete, they have weight.”

Eyes moved back to John Locke .

“I have made my plea and will not derail these talks any longer, but I could not remain quiet. I believe my friend wishes to know what is needed to see his secession complete.”

 

[Redd]

Location: Ryloth, Viceroy's Mansion Bunker
Objective: Clansmoot
Equipment: Current Outfit
CIS Tags: Gerwald Lechner | Astrid Skovgaard | Darth Metus | Srina Talon | Darth Elyria | Jason Farkas | Shalita Verd
AOC Tags: Madalena Antares | Kyrinov | +Anyone else I've missed

Redd’s head turned as Astrid questioned the Orbital Bombardment and she lifted her shoulders which fell in a simple shrug. ”Honestly? I have no idea. I’m just repeating what I heard in the comms because it sounded important.” She said as she pointed to the ear piece with a slight smirk. As Gerwald and Shalita began to usher the elders along to the bunker in the Viceroy’s mansion, Redd soon followed suit by directing some of the elders down the staircase. The woman felt the shake of another explosion happening and she was drawn yet into another flashback.

Her small paws stopped beside her parents as they heard the large explosion and all heads turned back towards their small village. She heard her parents' voices travelling through the force and echoed inside her head as they coordinated each pack member to return to the village. ”Redd, you need to go secure the pups that haven't shifted yet and get them to safety. Move! Now!” They said as they turned to run back to the rest of the pack. Her paws had remained still as fear gripped her, but she managed to shake it away as she herself turned around and began to weave through the undergrowth…

Boom! The sound drew her back as she slowly fisted her hands. Redd unclenched them, only to clench them once again in an attempt to remain present. Her nails bit into the skin of her palms as she looked to Gerwald when he spoke and a frown descended upon her brow. Did he expect that she would let him be locked out of the bunker when he and the Vicelord were key people? Like hell she would let him go down without arguing against his command and she growled softly at the male’s words. ”You got this Astrid?” She asked as she turned towards Gerwald to respond to his command, except he seemingly decided to repeat his message once again. ”Yes well, if this place is about to become ground zero, then you better also get your tail to the bunker as well. I won’t hear of you trying to be a hero against…”

Another explosion sent her back into another flashback, Paws carried her small little body through the smoke and the smell disorientated her sense of direction. Another explosion had her stumbling under a log as she whined. Everything was covered in smoke, it made her eyes water and she could barely see through it all. Slowly she made her way to the outskirts of the village and she paused as she looked up to see her father trying to defend her mother’s lifeless body upon the ground, getting his throat slashed open in the process.

Jarring upright, she growled at Gerwald, ”I’m not leaving anyone from this group. No one gets left behind. Not in my pack.” Redd said as she caught an elder from falling due to the shocks that they felt underneath their feet and she gently nudged the elder along down the stairs, while a guiding hand reminded them that there was a handrail to help them down the stars. Her lungs drew in air that felt like it was rising in temperature and she shrugged off her jacket only to tie it around her waist. A hand wiped at the sweat beading upon her forehead and she angled her head only to usher the Vicelord, his wife and Gerwald into the bunker as a Dread Guard ran past her and back out of the bunker. If she hadn’t heard Shalita’s command of him, Redd probably would have ran back out to herd the man back up into the group. After all, they had just managed to herd all of the elders into the bunker.

 

[Xobos Yakieer]

Location: Ryloth – Middle of nowhere
Equipment: Lightsaber, Faceless Armor, Miraluka Mask
Mental state: Helpful
Tags: | Darth Miseria | Adron Malvern | Oceiros Sunstrider |

There had been many sisters and brothers that had been in her presence during her time as Adron’s apprentice. Many of which she had come to enjoy the company of, even if the time they spent together was rarely, if ever, a jolly one. More often than not, they fought together. Bathed in the fire of battle together. Strengthened their minds together.

Miseria.

Shakti.

Alden.

All of them, growing in power. All of them..growing in his shadow. As his tools. He made no secret of it. They were used to serve his purposes, and in return, they were made powerful users in the force. The trade was not..fair sometimes. She had seen other brothers, other sisters, fall by the wayside. Their bodies no longer holding up against the constant abuse and harsh conditions.

Xobos sometimes wondered why she hadn’t broken yet. She had endured just as much as many of the apprentices. Her body had felt the cold bite of Ilum when they had traveled to find her saber crystals. Bothwani had nearly become her grave before something awoke within her. There was even the destruction of the Mandalorian fleet over Tanaab. So many events that should have broken her. So many times her mind should have snapped.

Were the voices responsible for keeping her intact? That would be an interesting though, seeing how they practically ripped her apart on Roon. If they were the reason she was still here now, then why they had kept her on the edge of insanity during her exile was a question she needed answers for. Perhaps one day she’d actually drag them up.

Her master’s voice caught her attention after a few moments, then turning her head to watch the horizon. Energy spiders. Something that she’d only ever read about in books. How they managed to turn up here was quite the mystery, but another for another time, she thought. As the commando droids moved forward to engage them, Xobos held her hand slightly out to the side, willing the force to bring her helmet from the speeder bike. It zipped from it’s resting position, and just as the droids opened fire, the helmet was pulled onto her head, quieting the blasters for just a moment.

She was faceless once again. Another tool.

For the first few moments, she didn’t notice it. But it became apparent quickly that the blaster bolts were doing..nothing. The spiders were barely flinching. Tough little buggers. “Well, I’m not going to miss these things when we’re finished with them. That’s if, we survive this, little master.” Misera had seemingly noticed as well, and was evidently trying to do something about it. Xobos resigned herself to stay still, slightly behind the other woman. If she wanted her help, she would have asked. No need to step on a darth’s toes. They tended to get..ansy, about such things.

The woman’s plan seemingly worked. At least, for a moment. It bought them time, enough time for Misera to turn and make a comment in xobos’s direction however. “It’s never easy when we serve. You know that by now.” She responded, turning to look in the direction of the droid that she was holding her hand out to. Curious. Detonators.

Detonators that were shoved quite roughly into her chest. Not that she minded. Was just a bit rude as all. Miseria didn’t exactly seem keen on sharing the entirety of her plan. It wasn’t until the woman’s red blade was ignited that she fully understood, and once the hilt was thrown, red blade spinning through the sky, Xobos went to work on her part of the attack.

“Wouldn’t mind a bit of help…tripping these things at just the right moment could be a bit tricky.” She spoke aloud, yet seemingly to no one at all. If Miseria gave any sort of answer, the Miraluka made no indication she had listened. The words were meant for someone much more..personal. One that echoed though her mind as she lifted one of the detonators face high with force, and the blade began attacking those spiders ever closer together.

“You had only ever ask, master…”

That voice brought a smile to her face, one that crossed her lips just as she primed the detonator and flung it forward, landing just on tope of the growing pile of spiders, quickly becoming enveloped in their writhing bodies. And for just a moment, things were seemingly quiet. Then, out of nowhere, a small, muffled thud. Then another. And another.

Until…boom.

The detonators seemingly caused a chain reaction among the spiders, igniting the energy they had consumed and sending them up in flames in firey balls of explosion one after the other. It was quite the sight, one that xobos matched by repeating the process with one of her own blade, adding a second detonator to the mix.

In the end, between the pair of them, little was left other than that a few of the writhing masses, easily handled by the commando droid’s blades. “Clean this up.” She directed one of the few droids not encircling her master, returning to Miseria’s side with a slight nod. “Unorthodox..though we did each lose a blade. An unfortunate, but necessary consequence, I suppose.” There was a small shrug from the thin alien, turning to look at where her master knelt. It was some sort of ritual, or at least it seemed that way. All would be explained at some point, that was how the universe worked.

At least, that’s the hope Xobos held onto.

 

[Théodoro]

// THEO // THYRSIAN SUN GUARD // WORTHY OPPONENT
// OBJECTIVE // BATTLE ON RYLOTH // DUEL
// FOCUS // Beric Layne // Millu Lee
// REGALIA // IN BIO // 2x Wrist Rockets
// THEME // MADE FOR THIS // CITY WOLF

The thrust met nothing but air, and his swing was blocked by the blue saber before his opponent withdrew. Theo mirrored the action, taking a few steps back and regarding the man across from him. The warrior shifted his grip on his pike, releasing it from his left hand and shifting his right higher on the shaft such that he had better control while wielding it in one hand. A golden shield sprung to life on his left arm. Slowly he stepped to his right, beginning to circle the other warrior -- likely to be met by a mirrored action once more.

Again he felt that the two were on the same page. Theo had just opened his mouth to ask the warrior his name, but this Beric Layne had beat him to it. Instead the golden-armored warrior's helmet retracted, revealing the Sun Guard's face and features. His eyes locked with Beric's; they seemed wild yet focused. Theo's face was painted with a somehow angry grin as he stalked across from the Knight Obsidian. The warrior's heart beat quickly, his breathing less controlled than his opponent's. His skin glistened in the sunlight despite having yet to break a sweat.

"My name is Théodoro Pirran, Thyrsian Sun Guard and Stellar Legionnaire," he responded. Compared to Beric's lordly title and noble demeanor, Theo was but a child. Thus he was there to prove himself once more, on a stage larger than himself. A short laugh escaped his lips. He was excited. He was happy. And he was ready to fight.

"Beric Layne, Lord of Frosthall and Knight Obsidian, I see you as a worthy opponent! You hold yourself as a warrior, and I can see that you have some skill." If they'd met anywhere else, Theo would not have given him the same respect. The only ones worth his time were other warriors. That was the way he believed life was to be lived, and equally how it was to be ended. The Sun Guard's steps slowed, and his voice boomed once more before their combat resumed: "Knight, show me your valor! Show me that you are worthy of remembrance, and I will make it so!" Enough talk -- the Sun Guard charged towards Beric, his helmet shifting to once more cover his head and hide his eyes.

His opponent might have the Force, but Theo had a similar battlesense. The battle oil still seeped into his body, and his eyes focused on the dozens of minuscule movements that Beric made in the moments before he was close enough to strike. Still, the information didn't change much. From what he'd gathered off of his single strike, along with his own understanding of the Hoplon powersuit he wore, Theo had the strength advantage. He'd aim for guard breaks and situations where their blades could lock and he could force a strength contest. Not too much of a change from his usual strategy.

A few meters before they met, Theo leapt into the air, bringing his force pike down in a powerful downwards strike, aiming for Beric's right shoulder. The power was likely enough to force his opponent to move, and thus Theo was quick to follow up with an upwards diagonal slash once his first strike fell. His movements flowed smoothly as he then raised his shield and swung his pike around to behind his neck. The point still aimed at Beric's chest, Theo thrusted twice in quick succession with his weapon while keeping his guard up using his shield, his stance low and solid.

Most of the strikes leaned more into power -- Theo believed he could tire Beric and weaken him with a flurry of strong strikes -- but the horizontal slash from the pike as it swung back around was by far the strongest. The longer swing time forced Theo to telegraph the attack, but he intentionally kept it short, trying to bait Beric into stepping back and out of range. After all, surely such a fast and powerful strike would be difficult to stop quickly...

The slash came to a halt where Beric's torso was -- or rather, should have been -- and Theo stepped forward with his left foot and raised his shield above his head, his low stance making an overhead strike the obvious choice. He angled his shield such that the pike was under it, and he thrusted forward once more, the feint of a shortened reach gone as he extended fully to strike his target.

 

[Lash]

Objective: Begin operation Compass
Location: Outer Ryloth System
Allies: Dimitri Lindzinsky Bella Strider Garon Salem Norongachi
K Kaine Australis
Enemies: Tyrias Aran Amelia von Sorenn The Monster

Lash monitored the comm traffic of the other ships in the system listening to their damage reports and situations thinking to himself it could have been much worse, His group could have been closer tot he planet and suffered damage as the other fleets had. As it was his group had regained sensors and the few injuries sustained from the blast had been minor. Only the extreme distance he and his group had been at had saved him from more critical damage and major injuries. Honestly Lash cared nothing for the people of the other fleet. They were warriors the same as he, they knew the price of living the life of a warrior. They boarded their vessels, climbed into their cockpits, manned their stations knowing full weel today could be their last. Anyone going into battle who did not conceive this did not think to themselves that they may not survive the day should not be on the field of battle and were most likely a threat to themselves and everyone around them. Fear is the price paid by sane people, the balance of fear kept men and women safe at night. Kept the warrior on his toes, ready for anything that may happen. A being not afraid ill miss the thing that ends him by not being ready, by not conceiving the idea of being afraid of it. Even the hardest of warriors were afraid, that is the reason they survive, the reason they are hardened in the first place. Not fearing death opens the door for the reaper to come in while you sleep. Fear was balance, fear was preparation, fear is sanity.

Lash looked up to see the four small icons moving off away from the Chiss group to their first set of coordinates. "Sir all groups but Ramrod have made their first drop and are moving to their second drop position." announced an officer. Lash looked over to the icon which designated Picket Group Ramrod. Lash closed his eyes and spoke his head a bit just thinking about the group. Just the name was a stain on his mind, their commander was not Chiss, he was very human and that had been an issue since the man joined the group. He looked at the icon wondering what the man and his group were doing off course.

******************
Picket Force Ramrod

Commander Frank Jiss picked himself up off the floor of the corvette, dusted off his uniform and returned to his seat. "Report!" he yelled so he could be heard over the klaxon now blaring uncontrollably. "And would someone turn this damn thing off!" he said pointing over his shoulder to the alarms speaker. The corvette had been caught int he tail of the electromagnetic wave put off by the massive explosion moments ago. They had managed to avoid the bulk of the blast but as the old vessel had less robust shielding than the other pickets its main maneuvering control bank had been hit throwing it into a spin for a moment until the thruster could be bypassed.

"Sir, the chief reports the damaged thruster has been repaired and we can resume normal flight operations" said a communications officer talking over a channel tot he chief of the boat. Frank huffed then took a full look around him at the damage to the bridge. two men have been injured when their stations exploded and were being treated in the makeshift sick bay they had set up in his quarters. Two others received mine burns but had returned to their stations and were now working to repair their stations.

"have we heard anything from the fighter escorts?" asked Frank. a long pause ran out too long for him and he yelled the question once again "Damnit, have we heard how our escort is?" A man at the tactical console turned to answer. "Sir, the escorts are all there, They got knocked around but they report no major damage and no injuries." stated the officer. Frank relaxed a bit at that news. They had been well ahead of the corvette when the wave passed. Frank thanked the force for that.

"Ok let's get back on course and drop our first bout" ordered Frank as the crew settled in and got back to business as usual. Frank hoped there we no more delays, The Blue guy would have his head he was sure if he did not get this job one on schedule.

FLEET

1 Imperious Mk II-class Star Defender Termagant
1 Aurora-class Siege Destroyer Onager
1 ISD III-class Star Destroyer Agitator
1 Pelagic-class Star Cruiser Long Bow
1 Proclaimer-class Star Frigate
2 Odysseus-class Cruisers
1 Mantis-class ELINT Frigate
1 Moray-class EWAR Frigate
4 Imperial Reconnaissance and Exploratory Corvettes
11 Wake-class Multi-role Pickets
6 Intersector-class Patrol Pickets
4 Liberté-class Light Corvettes
Attack Craft
TIE Seeker Starfighter
TIE Locust Fast Interceptor
TIE Talon Line Interceptor
Novawing Missile Boats

ACTIONS

Recover from blast
continue in system
Picket groups begin Operation Compass

 

[Rann Thress]

Location: Ryloth, Capital Bio-Dome
Objective: Engage Twi'lek Insurgents and Lylek Beastriders, protect Innocent lives
Allies: Holt Ciri Jade Draconis Sederius Wolf CIS and Open
Enemies: Oceiros Sunstrider AOC and Open
Equipment: Octarchy Covenant Armor and Lightsaber

Rann ran towards the horde again, acutely aware of their tails that he had missed before. He tried to calculate the best plan of attack instead of getting grabbed and smacked around how ever many more times it'd take to remove their tentacles from them. As he approached who he thought was the leader, something seemed wrong. He skid to a stop and looked around, seeing Some Twi'lek ( Oceiros Sunstrider ) aiming at him with a rifle. He raised his blade to deflect the shot, aiming to re-direct it back at the shooter when for some reason unknown to Rann the bolt 'missed' his saber and slammed him directly in the chest dropping him to a knee.

"Oooooohhhhh." he groaned, reaching his lefthand down to his chest to feel the impact area. No crack, no dent, no evidence of him having been struck by a weapon. It still hurt. Like getting rammed by a hungry Boma. But he was confident he wasn't too injured.

"Okay. Can't block that. Gotta dodge. Easy peasy." he caught his breath as he rose to his feet. Rann definitely didn't want to get hit by that again, he decided. He tried to call upon the Force to augment his speed, hoping to close the distance and negate the range advantage the Twi'lek had over him, then he noticed the Twi'lek was roaring and charging at him, and noticed others were following suit. If the Twi'lek wanted to negate his own range advantage, Rann was happy enough to let him. Hetwirled his blade again and yelled back. A challenge. Then, Rann gave a quick glance around and noticed a few small pieces of rubble around the grounds. He smiled and dis-ignited his Lightsaber, returning it to his waist. With both hands, he again called on the Force not to augment his speed but to allow him to lift several medium sized pieces of debris. Using the Force, Rann would propel the pieces towards the Beastriders, specifically the creatures. He had hoped to break them and deal with their mere-mortal riders at his leisure. However, Rann struggled to lift the many pieces he intended to, settling on three pieces instead of the swarm of hundreds he had envisioned.

Robbed of his chance to wipe out the entire wave of Beastriders with one move, Rann settled on directing all three pieces at the Twi'lek responsible for shooting him, hoping that, seeing the man who dared harm this violent stranger have his mount taken out beneath him and be swiftly cut down himself, his men would fear Rann's raw power and turn and flee. Rann couldn't help but smile. This idea was a long shot, and he knew it. Oh well. In for a penny.

Holding the pieces contemplating his attack, Rann briefly thought about spreading out the three to bean three riders in the head. However, Rann figured that if the Riders were controlling the beasts, to kill them first would allow the beasts to act freely, and wreck even more carnage then they do under the control of their Masters. He also noticed that these creatures seemed pretty well armored. One for one didn't seem like it'd do much, if anything. Rann wasn't even sure tossing three boulders at one would do anything, but at the very least it bought time.

It was decided. Rann launched the three boulders at the Leader's Beast. If it all went according to plan, which was doubtful, Rann'd single handedly win the war.

As soon as they left his "grasp" Rann returned his hand to his Lightsaber and removed it from his waist. Remembering the inability to block these blasts, Rann limbered up his arms real quick and held his blade infront of him with both hands.

As ready as he could be, Rann awaited the success or failure of his manuever.

TL;DR:
Rann has wind knocked out of him from sonicblast
Rann hurls three pieces of debris (Rock, steel, whatever) at the Twi'lek Sarif who shot him.
Rann re-readies for immediate engagement.

 

[Adron Malvern]

​

Location: Empty Barrens, Ryloth
Thoughts: "Death is the only proper punishment for men such as these."
Tags: Xobos Yakieer Darth Miseria Oceiros Sunstrider
Equipment: Armor | Lightsaber | Sith Sword | Healing Tonic | Trinket
Troop: 17 Commando Droids, 3 Ouroborus Krayt Dragons

His heart slammed in his chest, pushing resounding echoes into his mind as his lips separated. A low, guttural growl fell from Darth Malphas' mouth as his eyes came open to gaze at the mountain of rock. The rumbling that had come from below the surface of Ryloth had come to a peak as rock and stone exploded out from the mountain. A small storm of dust washed over the area surrounding them as a monstrous, ear piercing roar echoed throughout the land. The roar was so loud and shattering that it caused Malphas to turn his head away from the massive shockwave. As rock and dust flew over the Sith Lord he felt something indescribable wash over him. He did not have time to keep his mind on that feeling, because in the next second he felt a warm rush flow over him.

The dust had yet to settle but the Dark Lord turned his eyes back to the screen of red-brown mist that laid before him. The two commando droids that stood before him stepped forward but were immediately swallowed into the dust by some unseen force. Malphas' lips curled into a smile before his amethyst eyes began to glow brilliantly.

"Obsidia." He called out to the screen of dust and in the next moment a low growl erupted from the screen.

Obsidia was a massive being. Protruding from the cloud of dust, her obsidian-colored scales shimmered faintly in the excessive sun of Ryloth. She was a mature Ouroborus Krayt Dragon, standing over twenty meters higher than Malphas. As she brought a thick cloud of shade over the man he could not help but glance back to his apprentices.

"I can sense those miserable insects scurrying about nearby. Let's great them properly." He said, just then two more savage roars erruopted from what remained of the rock mountain. Two more dragons slammed through the paltry wall of rock, their massive wings spreading out as they took to the skies above.

"Xobos. Silva." Malphas said, gesturing to the metallic-shaded dragon that flew over Xobos.

"Dianah. Gildia." He said, this time it was the gilded dragon that roared down at Dianah in greeting.

Malphas made his way over to the speeder bike that he'd traveled there with, turning it towards the direction he sensed the Twi'lek incursion was hidden. "I will show them a proper beheading. Obsidia, with me!" He commanded, speeding forward. In that moment the black dragon roared out, flying forward, taking to the skies high above the Viceroy.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

F A M I LY . I S . M O R E . T H A N . B L O O D

Equipment: Nightmother's Ward Lightsaber; Blood of Dathomir Armor; Pouch of 8x 0.2 oz Water of Life Potions, 3x 1 oz Water of Life Potions, 3x Raxus Relief Gas Patches, 1x Raxus Relief Gas AoE Capsule, Scroll

CIS Allied: Luna Terrik | Shamira Karuto | Effie | Viana Morreth | Julra Repraj | Alluria Ivalice | Darth Metus | Lirka Ka | Millu Lee | Kat Decoria

AOC Allied: Oceiros Sunstrider | Thalia Senn | Anesia Jy'Vun | Katrine Van-Derveld | Madalena Antares | Scherezade deWinter​

Vytal observed Julra in action and watched as the Witch young in manipulating the folding of space conjured a doorway. Had circumstances been more appropriate, she'd have celebrated such an accomplishment. It was a difficult skill to learn, and an equally difficult one to Master. A familiar destination helped considerably. "Wonderful, Julra. Once we're through, you should rest." It would be nice to have the young Witch along, but given how taxing her power usage could be it was still early for her to face the Commanders of the Agents of Chaos.

Sisters. I need you. Ryloth needs you. Julra has opened a portal to the castle. The spirits have called to a squire. She must come with you. Find her. The Nightmother stretched forth with her mind to reach out to others in the Mandragora. The Nihil Smokestone empowered her and made certain all in or around the dome could hear her.

"Quickly," Vytal motioned for those assembled to make their way through the portal before Julra succumbed to exhaustion. On that note, the pale woman would gently steer and guide that exhausted Witch through her own portal. Thankfully her legs hadn't given out from under her yet, or her concentration might collapse then and there.

As they passed through the sound of another, larger eruption filled the air. It caused the pale Witch to turn on the other side and look back at the war-torn interior of the dome. One whose sweltering heat poured through into the cooler atmosphere the women now found themselves bathed by. That was not a single explosion. It had been a chain, and the heat seemed to jump suddenly as a result. It gravely concerned the Nightmother as she stood confronted with an impossible dilemma. One she'd already decided required answering another theater. The Confederate forces could handle it. They were not helpless without the Mandragora, and Vytal had left Sisters and Brothers to aid them.

Seconds passed and Vytal was drawing close to telling Julra to release her burden when Effie in wolf form, carrying Millu Lee and Kat Decoria , rounded the corner. A soft exhale of relief followed as she stepped aside for the barreling trio to dart to safety -- or into the path of danger.

Once all were accounted for, a nod signaled Julra Repraj to sever the connection between two places in space.

They stood in the inner courtyard of the Castle that sat between the outer walls and towers, and the central tower. Vytal turned back to the women then. "Shamira, please use the Castle doors to return to the greenhouse and assemble some of your recent specimens. I will meet you there in a few minutes. For everyone else," her green eyes swept over them, "there may be a conflict that arises here at the Castle, but there may be an even greater one at the Altar of Spirits. We cannot leave either defenseless. Those of you that are not comfortable in battle should remain here surrounded by Sisters and Brothers that can support you. The rest, remain here until I return."

She paused, feeling it her duty to be forthright with the women that stood at her side. "The conflicts we may be forced to face shortly will not be like the one we came from. It will not be about the Freedom of the Twi'lek, or the purported enslavement of the Confederacy. Those orchestrating such things have a different design with us in mind. Something far more personal, with ramifications that may affect not only our selves but the Balance between our world and the next. To what end they seek to destroy that which we seek to learn from, understand, and preserve only the gods can say. But what I do know is that together we will preserve the balance not merely because it is our obligation, and not out of a desire for academic preservation. But because it is right, and because we call upon the power of the spirits to aid us in protecting all worlds from curses, monsters, plagues, and fiends that would run rampant over the face of the galaxy if it were not for women like yourselves. They come to our aid, and now it is our turn to come to theirs. We are a family. Not of blood. Not of duty. But of heart, mind, and soul. Here, and in the Beyond. And I am blessed to call you my Sisters."

A smile crossed Vytal's dark lips as she regarded those that had come with her. "Lylek, Jart, Doashim, and all our allies Beyond be with us; and I will see you all here, once more."

Reluctantly, the Nightmother turned toward the central tower. She reached out to take Julra's hands, "Come. You can rest inside." The Central Tower was reinforced against attack; it was the strongest as it was also the tallest. If there would be a safe place for her brave Sister to recuperate it would be there.

There were also a few additional items she needed to collect from her chambers before setting off to battle -- the most apparent of which would be the gauntlets left behind for the day's activities. While the leader of the Mandragora often wore her armor everywhere, it was not always appropriate to also wear the gauntlets; certainly not when she expected to be holding the small hands of a city's youth. However, in battle they would be instrumental.

A few minutes later, Vytal returned to the courtyard where she would lead whoever decided to venture to the Altar of Spirits. One of the Castle's doors was soon opened to reveal the grounds of Caer Badru, the Greenhouse. A quick jaunt to locate Shamira and hopefully the summons which she had found surprising success. Vytal knew if it came to conflict there would be a host that would stand against them. What nature, what number was not foretold. Only that it would be perilous.

Vytal waited to hear what Shamira Karuto might have to say before she stepped off to the side into a clearing appropriate for the beasts Shamira had in store. Where they were going now was somewhere the Nightmother knew quite well. Perhaps she did not drag all those that identified as 'Mandragora.' Perhaps only those that dedicated themselves to Lylek, Jart, or Doashim truly sought to venture to this place of honor and remembrance. Vytal, however, had not forsaken such devoted Sisters and Brothers. Her openness brought others into the fold, but she still honored and respect the old ways while not losing sight of the new. It was the way of Life that things changed. Those that maintained a semblance of identity in the next world and did not return to the Pool of Life or Source would have eternity to bask in their unchanging nature; such was the world of the Hereafter -- of the Nether.

A tall and broad portal pierced the veil of space similar to Julra, but with a more practiced hand. Point to point was less burdensome and less risky than the jaunts into the Nether. All the same, best it was not kept open longer than was needed. From here, the Witches would go to the Altar of Spirits. From here they would confront those that desired a meeting under less traditional circumstances. If by some miracle the spirits would deign to allow them to part in peace, Vytal would favor such an outcome; nevertheless, the Nightsister was prepared and committed to preserving the creatures, the people, and the spirits of this world. She would fight with every ounce of energy in her toward that end if need be.

The gate would open along a flat of the mountain that carried the Altar of the ages upon it. Vytal would have gone for the summit straight away, except Shamira's summons required more space and it would not do to have them trample over the site. Her head turned in an effort to locate those that should already have arrived ( Katrine Van-Derveld , Madalena Antares ). One in particular, but Vytal could not assume they had come alone -- much as she would have preferred to discuss their spiritual differences.

Back at the Castle...
The magic that flowed between the trees of the Forest that guarded the Path to the Castle was undisturbed despite recent events. Even the approach of unexpected visitors ( Scherezade deWinter , Luna Vega ) drew no notice. Soon, one of the living called out to mystical energies ins search of passage. Her cries did not fall on deaf ears, however. While no turbulence amounted from the declaration, and ordinarily the words of the living would bear no such fruit, one of their ways could seek audience with resident spirits.

They heard though were not sure of her intent. The Mandragora had not added Scherezade deWinter to the list of authorized visitors. They should bar her as they would any other. Her cry of being invited by another Nightmother was too conflicting. The magicks of these lands had been set after her time. Yet, she had been Nightmother. They knew Katrine. They knew Scherezade. They also knew what was occurring on Ryloth, and were perturbed by such events and the darkness it brought.

Moments later, the Path between the trees appeared to Scherezade and Luna Vega. It would lead them through the forest to the main bridge that spanned the gap to the Castle isle; on the other side would be the enclosed courtyard with the Front Tower presiding over it. They would pass between the trees on either side along the way, and go unaccosted by the creatures within the forest, or the traps and wards laid there to deal with intruders. Safe passage for them -- but them alone. Any that followed would require the same grace or be on the known souls list, else they could be led astray by illusion designed to snare unwelcome outsiders and hostile armies.

Sisters and Brothers of the Mandragora would be made known of these visitors. Even welcome ones drew notice so the Mandragora could prepare an appropriate welcome. Hopefully, it would be one of peace. The Castle had its defenses to protect those that studied there, but their ways were not of war and bloodshed. True, some trained in these arts. Some excelled at them. But it was not the purpose of the Mandragora as a whole -- their purpose was in research and comprehending the mysteries of the galaxy, and in spreading this knowledge responsibly. In preserving the Balance between the Living and the Nether realms. And, for some, a reclusive place to conduct their research into magick or the Force in blessed peace.

The Confederate Defense Force personnel on site would likewise be on guard. However, they would take their cues from the Mandragora as how to respond to any visitors.

Template By: Darth Metus (Guy)​

 

[Lunara Azure]

Location: Ryloth
Wearing: Armour
Tagging: Rayne Centaris | Prennis Keeoli

The wind whipped in through the open door of the transport, tugging at Lunara’s hair and clothes, the fabric pulling at her, as blue eyes peered down at the planet that flew past under their feet. It wouldn’t have been hard to use the force to protect herself from the wind as the crew sent them hurtling through the air. But…it would have been an affection of pure vanity. An improper use of her abilities, so she let the wind lash at her form as the transport shot through the air.

There was an urgency to the flight, roiling off the pilots as they stared ahead, at the building that was their ultimate target. The panic, the worry was understandable, natural. The sky already filled with billowing smoke, reaching up into the sky like eager fingers reaching out to grasp the sky, to grasp at the sky above. Like the men who had set it off, it seemed to care little for the presence of the biodome above, or for the terrified citizens below. She’d seen the videos, the claims that this was a fight for Ryloth.

Except that it wasn’t, not really. The terrorists who had stepped forward from the shadows were fighting for their ideals, their perfect vision of a society. Never mind that it was just a construct in their heads, far removed from the realities of the galaxy. They knew that it would work if they got to implement it because they knew better than anyone else.

They had forgotten two very important facts. No plan ever survived unchanged in the face of the pressures of reality. An ideal was well and good, but reality required compromise, required you to work with others and take their needs and wishes into account. Something they had failed to do, assuming that they were the only ones who had a vision of the future. The second thing…well, that was right down there. Ryloth wasn’t an ideal, it wasn’t even the ground which they all stood on. It was the people, those thousands who had gathered for the festival, the thousands more who couldn’t make it and who were watching these events unfold at home.

They were the true soul of Ryloth, the true future of the planet. Yet how many would suffer while the misguided few tried to push their philosophy on a world that didn’t want it? How many would suffer because a meddlesome foreign power had decided that they knew what was best for the planet? The people had already spoken, yet their voices fell on deaf ears. They knew better, those few, those sad disconnected few didn’t care what the people wanted. They had already made their mind up, and everyone else would have to bow to their vision.

For a moment the blonde-haired woman was transported to another world, far to the galactic south but the same farce played out. Different actors same story, only that time they’d won. Her home, her family, all of them had been lost to the actions of terrorists much like those that plagued Ryloth now. She’d been too late to stop them, too far away to save anybody from the threat that no-one saw coming.

Not today.

No-one should have to walk the street where their loved ones had been cut down, to see the bloodstains of those they’d been unable to save. No-one should have to live with those nightmares, with the heavy chains of guilt that wrapped around you so tightly that you didn’t think you could breathe.

Survivor’s guilt.

It was perhaps the worst burden to bear, the weight that you’d never really be able to shed, they were dead and you weren’t but, maybe she could set a little bit of it down now. Lunara hadn’t been able to protect her own family, but if she stopped it happening again today, if she could stop someone else walking into her own version of hell then maybe, maybe her family might forgive her failure.

Maybe.

The sorceress closed her eyes, reaching out to the energy that surrounded her, using it to calm herself. The light, the force, whatever you wanted to call it was awash with fear and terror, the feelings of the planet’s population laid bare if only you would reach out and listen. It was…

A new dust cloud billowed, the woman’s gaze settling on it mere moments before she felt the light around her erupt. It felt like a punch to her gut, like she’d been cast into a pit of boiling water. She could feel it come alive with pain and suffering, with the cries of twi’lek lives being snuffed out in an instant.

The breath rushed out of the woman’s body as she felt those emotions buffet her, those cries of pain filling the air around her. For a moment Lunara felt as if she were drowning as if the pain filling the light around here was trying to drown her. For a moment before she breathed it in, pulling that pain that energy into herself, the air around her seeming to become colder and colder, a frosting appearing on the windows of the craft as the woman’s eyes flicked towards the latest atrocity that had been perpetrated. Eyes as cold as ice, as hard as diamonds.

This time the woman felt no compunction about reaching out to use her abilities to hold herself in place, the clothing that had previously been pulled at by the wind falling as if she were standing outside on a summers day as she turned to face her companions. The ice in her eyes, in the air pulling all emotion from her voice.

“I’m sorry, Prennis was it, you said you wanted to be a good Samaritan. I don’t believe our new friends are interested in playing by those rules…and to be honest neither am I. Help anyone on our side you want, there won’t be enough of them left to be worth saving.”

Different world. Different Actors.

Same Story.

 

[Raven Thystle]

Location: Olanet, Siskeen System; Derek Dib’s Palace
Objective: Brotherhood
Equipment: Current Outfit, Taozin Amulet
Bodyguard’s Weapons and Armour: Obsidian Lightsabre and Steelskin
CIS Tags: Daegon Corvinus | John Locke | Kyyrk | Faye Malvern | Visanj T'shkali | Corius Harckon | Seraphina Corvinus | Lesya Kosarev | Luca Donskoi
AoC Tags: Alwine Daye | Enlil | Gabriel Volturi | Annasari | Larentia
Other Tags: Derek Dib | Holly Starstorm | +Anyone else I missed​

As the debates rose up all around her, she slowly leaned back into her seat once more, where her pale hands were folded upon her lap. With her right hand settled on top of her left and quietly listened to the words that were voiced within the room. Alwine, Annasari, Exarch John, Faye, Seraphina, Enlil and Daegon. All the while, she would be remiss in not feeling the oppressive force that tried to bring her off track within her thoughts, but another feeling within the force also combated the oppressive one and so her non expressive face continued to give nothing away; even when Alwine tried to make a statement and ended up only overplaying her hand. Slowly, she drew in a deep breath and noted the female’s other side. It was the scent of dog. The vampiress turned chocolate eyes to view the woman once more along with the silent companion that stood beside her but then decided to simply palm off the woman’s remarks.

Politics was best left to the professionals, the actual politicians that knew what they were doing. It was not for young pups on the opposite side of the table, to decide how the CIS conducted their military and border defenses against potential threats. Besides, why would the CIS want to talk about such things to a faction that had shown a want to invade them? Ryloth was the perfect example of that and so the woman refrained from saying anything else. While she could have said something, she did not, because often it was best to simply listen and interject where need be. Her voice was not needed to speak up at this time.

While she didn’t condone the fact that Derek wanted to break away from the CIS, she did however applaud the fact that he decided that the best way to do so was through politics. Although the conversation got off hand from time to time due to those who worried about the others on Ryloth and she couldn’t quite say for certain that she disagreed with those worried sentiments. However, being a politician, she learned to keep quite a lot of her personal sentiments to herself, for sometimes voicing them could be quite detrimental to the task at hand and may very well leave her open to an attack outside of this meeting.

Quietly she listened to Faye and she leaned forward to rest her elbows upon the table before them while her fingers were clasped together to simply acknowledge that she was listening to the words being spoken. Yes the cameras were a problem at times, but it didn’t impede upon anything that she had already spoken herself. However Faye made some great points and so Raven's quiet tone was simply a reflection of that. Even though there were some heightened emotions within the room, she couldn’t help but applaud the fact that Derek was still able to address concerns with a level head, even if the others were not so. However, what did peak her interest was the fact that he kept glancing to one side, looking at something and she wondered as if this meeting itself was time sensitive. Something which no one else had been informed about.

Her gaze shifted then from Holly to Seraphina who appeared to be having an emotional meltdown of some kind in response to the situation on Ryloth. While Ryloth was somewhat an inconvenience to the current meeting about Siskeen, she could see why some people would be disturbed. If anything, Raven had no feelings about Ryloth; as she saw it, it was irrelevant. Although, her fellow Confederacy members continued to want to address the situation and her gaze shifted to Daegon who spoke of it, asking Derek to bring in reinforcements to the situation on Ryloth.

It seemed that no matter what, the talks would always have an emphasis about Ryloth and so she didn’t speak again till the matter was resolved. However, it mostly seemed like the ball was in Exarch Locke’s and Voph’s court, especially when it came to the topic of Siskeen’s succession. Slowly, the vampiress leaned forward to rest her chin upon her fingers that were clasped in front of her, to wait out the result of the discussion.
​

 

[J'onns]

The domes were in chaos with the Lylek riders now in play.

All I had to do was continue my part and talk.

" Ryloth was never perfect. WE have always been strong though. Even under the effects of slaver, We as a people were united in our pains. We have culture. Religion and places we called home. Outsiders may have saw them as primitive but still it was no less effective when it came to protection. How would the Confederacy feel if a different culture and species came to their worlds and told them. Their ways were unique but could be innovated? Good but not good enough. "

"As we all see the domes are just as hazardous to our people than the caves were. We were told it was for our better good and protection. Was it? Was it worth subjecting ourselves to CIS rule? We should of never left our known way of life. We have abandoned our very culture by doing so! The domes. Then came the next step. The Confederacy moving in with their dark magicks. "

"We as a people never needed magick in the past. Why would we need it now?!!!" J'onns shouted. " Our new slave masters depend too heavily on such power and supernatural ways. Look apon their witch head quaters and how it has tainted our motherlands. To all my brothers and sisters out there! Flee the domes and return back to the caves!

It is where I am and where safety will be known!

 

[Ryk Gaelir]

F I G H T​

Objective: Hold the Line
Allies: OOM-001-JELLYBEAN | OOM-002-HONEYCOMB | OOM-003-CUPCAKE | OOM-004-DONUT | OOM-016-ASTRO | OOM-314-PIE | The Monster | Holt | Beric Layne | Millu Lee | Luna Terrik | Tyrias Aran | Amelia von Sorenn | Darth Metus | Darth Empyrean | Srina Talon | Rann Thress | Ciri Jade | Anakwor Farlorn | Lunara Azure | Prennis Keeoli | Rayne Centaris
Enemies: Oceiros Sunstrider | J'onns | Thalia Senn | Hanna | Madalena Antares | K Kaine Australis | Judd Hunter | Scherezade deWinter
Location: Capital Bio-Dome

Ryk had heard of Malachor, although it was really only bits and snippets of legends that had been passed down to him. It had been the base of some cult, and it was a world that had literally killed everyone on it in some battle or the other. It's the only legacy, at least that Ryk knew of, was the expletives that had derived from it: in the name of Malachor, by the seven moons of Malachor, what the Malachor was that, and so on and so forth.

But Ryk never would have thought he would see Malachor with his own eyes.

Of course, the heat rushing out of a widening fissure that consumed Marine and Terrorist alike did not make Ryloth the same Malachor, but in Ryk's eyes it brought the two very close together. He had been fighting with his platoon, slowly gaining ground as more and more of the 701st had begun to consolidate, from all companies that had been spread out through the capital bio-dome. The Lyleks were fearsome opponents, but the Marines of the 701st had training, precision, and skill. They had prepared for this day to come, and they were now unafraid as they fought to protect the Confederacy.

Then the eruption had happened. Ryk had watched, helpless, as a fissure had been created by explosions where there had only been a tunnel. Buildings fell into its gaping mass, and the explosions didn't mask the screams of civilians as their bunkers collapsed in on themselves. Ryk threw off his visor in disbelief, watching the scene of nightmares unfold in front of them. Were these terrorists not satiated in their bloodlust? The only liberating they had done was liberate innocents from their lives and loved ones; but in this case, it wasn't liberation. It was murder. They were genociding their own people, destroying the very structures that had given them shelter, that had given them refuge from Ryloth's environment.

Were these terrorists evil, or stupid? Ryk couldn't fathom that they would actually want to destroy the bio-domes, that they would want to force their people back into the caves. Back into Slavery. Ryk couldn't believe that these were native inhabitants of Ryloth -- the had to have been implanted by some organization, offworlders who sought to sow terror and reap innocent lives for coin or for fun. No revolutionary would willingly regress their culture back into the stone age.

No revolutionary would kill their own people.

The heat was becoming unbearable and despite all regulation, Ryk threw off his helmet, his hair soaked from preparation. Looking around, he saw other men do the same, yet there were still Lyleks to be killed. This battle was not over, despite the temperature reading off the charts. Wearily, Ryk picked up his blaster rifle, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to think of those who'd died as he aimed and let loose a salvo, hitting a Lylek in its abdomen. The blaster bolts didn't do any real damage, but the creature screamed into the air and reared on its back, throwing its rider off-balance. Ryk saw his chance and aimed a bolt at the rider, hitting the terrorist square in the chest. The now-dead body tumbled from the beasts back, and Ryk rolled to dodge a stabbing pincer from the now out-of-control Lylek.

"Where did these fethers cook up these?" One Marine shouted in between grunts as he fired a stream of bolts from a mounted repeating blaster cannon -- but even that weapon, that would normally mow down entire companies of soldiers, was doing little more than irritate the Lyleks. A second later, that Marine was stabbed through that chest with a pincer, screaming as the Lylek's claw broke through his armor, flesh, bone, and out the other wide in one swift move. Ryk's eyes widened as he watched, realizing that had almost been him a second earlier.

"Lieutenant, the whole bio-dome is compromised -- get headquarters on the kriffin' comms and call in civilian evac now!" came the shout of an order from Ryk's commanding officer, Captain Mern Kesh, a grizzled Iktotchi veteran, who's helmet was similarly discarded. The Iktotchi ran at the Lyleks, disregarding their obvious lethality as he let loose a stream of blaster bolts and curses.

Ryk nodded and shouted for a comms officer, who ran towards him, a long-ranged transmitter stripped onto the Marine's back. Grabbing the receiver, he quickly switched from the 701st's comms to the Defense Force general frequency. "This is Aurek Company, 701st Mobile Infantry. We need civilian and military evac at the capital bio-dome, over."

Ryk tensely waited for a reply, explosions, shouts, and screams roaring all around him, but fortunately he didn't need to wait for long. "Aurek Company," came a cool female voice, "this is Defense Force, Outpost Dorn. We have dropships sent to outside docking ports, can you confirm?"

"Confirm that, Outpost Dorn," Ryk replied back into the receiver. "Aurek Company out." Putting back the receiver and giving a nod to the comm officer, Ryk turned to the Iktotchi. "Evacs on their way! Orders, sir?"

The Iktotchi, somehow still alive, threw a primed thermal detonator high into the air, watching it fall before shooting it mid-descent, creating a blast that hit several of the Lyleks and their riders. "You take your platoon and rendezvous with those dropships. The rest of the company is going to hold the line here. We need to get to that evac and make sure none of these terrorists," he growled not even turning to address Ryk, ornamenting the last word with a spit on the dust-strewn ground, "block off these civvie's route of escape."

"Sir," Ryk nodded, hoisting his rifle. "1st Platoon, move out!" he roared over the noise of battle, turning to the rest of the men behind him. Several heads looked up, the rest still intent on holding back the Lyleks with whatever means possible. The Marine was alerted to the sound of a repulsorlift and looked up to see a transport -- one of them from the garage, before the explosion. A hand appeared from the driver, and Ryk looked up to see the shining, virtually clean face of Private Burton Caller.

"You look like you've gone through Malachor, Sir," Caller shouted as he helped Ryk into the front compartment of the transport as the other Marines clambered into the back of the vehicles.

"Shut the feth up and drive, Private," Ryk said unsmiling as he glanced out the open side hatch at the rest of Aurek Company. Captain Kesh was still there, barking obscenity-filled orders and giving the Lyleks everything they had. But as the transports began to pull away, Ryk couldn't shake away the notion that he was abandoning his comrades. Shaking his head dejectedly, Ryk turned and tried to focus on the front view as the transport began to speed away through the broken city.

Looking away couldn't do anything to silence the screams, though.

Spoiler: Equipment

• RDC-A1 Valar-type Variable Combat Armor
• BAW-57 Heavy Blaster Pistol
• BAW-77 Tactical Blaster Rifle
• Thermal Detonators
• Thermal Imploders
• Sonic Imploders
• RMED-BI6 Bacta Injector
• RMED-SI5 Stim Injector

​

 

[OOM-011-MARSHMALLOW]

O B J E C T I V E: RECEIVE AWARD. MEET HEROES.​

Tag:

Weapon:

E-5 Blaster Rifle

Enemies: Oceiros Sunstrider / J'onns / Thalia Senn / Madalena Antares / Agents of Chaos ​

Allies: Rann Thress / Draconis Sederius Wolf / Millu Lee / Srina Talon / Prennis Keeoli / Ciri Jade / Vytal Noctura / Julra Repraj / Damsy Callat / Lunara Azure / Tess Valnora / Maeve Archeron / Allya Vi'Dreya
B1 Party: Moe Uilor / OOM-001-JELLYBEAN / OOM-002-HONEYCOMB / OOM-003-CUPCAKE / OOM-004-DONUT / OOM-016-ASTRO



The Crowd was roaring. Around the square, in front of hundreds of thousands of screaming Organics, a stage. Upon that stage, there they were. Srina Talon , Darth Metus and more in ceremonial positions at the back of the podium. Fireworks or what counts as fireworks inside a Bio-dome anyway, went off all around as triumphant music and more deafening roars erupted throughout the city. Dignitaries from other Factions Holo'd in to be present for the ceremony. They all knew what day it was. They all knew why they were there, and how important it was.

Marshmallow Day.

There he was. Pristine, painted all pearl white. Rows upon rows of medals attached to his metallic chest. A military hat, made for humans not droids but Marshmallow would forgive this mistake, sit underneath his right arm. He looked... magnificent as he awaited his name be called. Then, she walked to the mic.
Srina Talon called out: "For the Droid of the hour, No, the Century! You know him, you love him! He is the SAVIOR, THE CHOSEN ONE! My favorite being in the known universe.... MARSHMALLOW!

Cheers. More Cheers, some crying from organics not fortunate enough to be closer to him. He sighed. He understood. He pitied these poor people. How could he not? He....WAS......Marshmallow

He raised his head proudly and stepped forward, more screaming as he came into view for the masses. Srina tried to silence them to speak, but bless her, she couldn't. This, Marshmallow also understood. He nodded at her, thankful his cheeks weren't painted red so no one could see their Hero blush. She smiled at him and he almost shut down then and there. This was actually the first time he'd be so close to her. It was almost too much. Realizing that Marshmallow was used to this kind of reactions (After all his best buddy Darth Metus gave him this award the past one thousand ceremonies he's attended and Metus spoke often of how powerful the occasion was!) she spoke

"Major Captain General Commander Admiral Sergeant Lieutenant Brigadier Marshmallow."

More pauses as the crowd erupted into even more cheers. Somewhere in the distance, a loud BOOM. Just some fireworks that were a liiittle too strong.

"You have served this Galactic Confederacy for so long now. So diligently, and so much more then your fellow B1s. I know it must seem like routine for us to honor our hero. I can only imagine what more important tasks you have to do with your precious time."
No, not this time. I got to meet... you.
"But please, just once more. Allow us to present you with the highest award we can give in this Galaxy. The award named after you. The Marshmallow Highest Amazing Citizenship Achievement Military Genius Award!"

More Cheers. Marshmallow leaned his head forward allowing Srina to put the medal around his head, afterwords he stared into her eyes, and she back into his.

"I just want to know, Marshmallow. Is there...anything I can do for you?"

He stuttered. It had been so long waiting for this moment.

"Well....Lady Talon... I...I just want-" BOOOOOOOOMMMM.

"AAAAHHHHHH!" Marshmallow screamed, startled. He looked around. He was still in his guardpost. Right where Jelly left him earlier that day. His All white pearl paint replaced with some scattered marking of white. Medals, gone, replaced by some dents. Then, he remembered what shocked him out of his wonderful dream. Explosions? On Ryloth? Wasn't it just another Parade what happened?

"Aaaah Nooo! I was so close! SO CLOSE THIS TIME!" he cried. Still unaware what was happening. Suddenly, a noise in his head and an update.

OBJECTIVE: REJOIN TEAM, SAVE RYLOTH. WHERE ARE YOU?
​

"AH! OH NO! I'm LATE! I'm late I'm Late I'm Late!"
he yelled as he started running to where the squad was supposed to regroup, some hole somewhere, he didn't know.
"I'm late I'm late I'm late I'm Late!!!! Jelly's gonna kill me!"
He frantically ran, seeing OOM-314-PIE running without a weapon ahead of him. He followed. At least PIE was there faster than him. Even if he was unarmed.

"Never fear, PIE is HERE!" was ringing out through the cave when Marshmallow crouched walked up to rejoin the rest of his team.

"AH! I'm sorry I'm Late! I don't have a catchphrase but...but...... I'm here! Marshmallow! I'm HERE JELLY! JUST A BIT LATE! BUT IT'S OKAY!"

 

[Thalia Senn]

Location: Capital Dome
Oceiros Sunstrider

It had been several years since he had spent more than a few weeks on Ryloth. His family had left because the Lyleks had gotten too close to their settlement and had all but overrun their farms and hunting grounds. But now he saw what the colonizers had truly done to their world. When he had been a child the heat storms were a negligible part of life. You simply went home into the mountains or the caves to avoid them. Had the industrialization of Ryloth become so detrimental in such a short time that even the underground could not protect them? The streets were chaos and he was beginning to see that their plans had not accounted for the ecological destruction of their land.

It seemed that now, even Ryloth herself wished for the people to be gone from her surface, regardless of species or creed. He saw a small Twi'lek doll in the streets, trampled by military boots and singed by blaster fire. In anger, he threw his blaster to the ground and gripped the beast rider's shoulder.

"Brother, we have to stop this!"

"What do you mean? They don't know what to do! We can route them! Just like J'onns and Shuulk predicted!" Predicted? Did Shuulk know about these heat...no these Fire Storms? He acted without thinking and threw the rider from his seat.

"No more!"

"What are you doing Jan!? You-" He didn't have a chance to finish. A blaster bolt struck him in his chest. Jan cursed and threw up a hand, using the Force to guide the bolts away as he skittered off on his lylek mount. He ripped the com from his chest and pressed down on the button.

"SHUULK. WHAT. HAVE. YOU. DONE?!"

 

[Alwine Daye]

Location: Derek Dib's Palace, Olanet, Siskeen System
Wearing: Armor | Lupine Blood Stone
Wielding: WindWhisper | generic walking cane
Allies: Agents of Chaos, The Siskeen Coalition, Twi'lek Freedom Fighters | Derek Dib Enlil Gabriel Volturi Annasari Holly Starstorm Larentia Izwi Kutaurira The Red of Sinner + Open
Enemies: The Confederacy | John Locke Raven Thystle Faye Malvern Corius Harckon Daegon Corvinus Seraphina Corvinus Visanj T'shkali Lesya Kosarev Luca Donskoi

Alwine remained silent as Annasari spoke of their presence not being wanted. The young woman spoke truthfully, earnestly. She still had the optimism and idealism of youth, and Alwine could not fault her for that, though she already knew what the Confederacy's response to her words would be. They did not believe in optimism, they did not believe that they were ever wrong. All the reactions that began around the room were clear indications of that.

Brown eyes moved to look at Faye Malvern, who appeared to almost vomit at the sight of the twi'lek's beheading. Alwine lofted an eyebrow. Was… Was anyone actually buying that? The woman once was, if wasn't still, a Sith. She had, for at least some time, dated Brayden Antares, a Sith as well. She was the sister of Exarch (or former Exarch?) Adron Malvern , another Sith who was not exactly known for being a gentle soul. She served directly under the Vicelord Darth Metus , a man who had changed into a golem and squeezed his own sister to death while she fought for the Confederates, and that was not even on the top 100 list of horrible things he'd done. And the sight of a beheading made her behave like that? Perhaps it was not a wonder that the reputation of the Confederacy had plunged so hard since she stepped into the role of Minister of Influence. Nobody liked a fake, and the mask was all too obviously painted on her features. Her mere suggestion that the Agents of Chaos be silenced brought a wolfish grin to Alwine's features. Someone is terrified. And she was not the only purple banner wielding one to be so.

Things were not going according to the Confederacy's plans. They were about to lose one system by agreement, another by blood, and there were many more that would follow. Despite her negative opinion on many of the Confederate leaders present, Alwine did not believe for a moment that they had not considered the implications of releasing Siskeen willingly. Viceroy Dib might have been the most vocal one, but he was far from being the only one, and many planets that had up until now chosen to remain silent as well would understand that the horrible charter they had signed could be unsigned. The happily colonized planets lie was going to unfold, very quickly. And if the Confederacy resisted? They would even faster run out of factions to blame for the bloodshed that they themselves would unleash.

Looking to Viceroy Derek Dib though, Alwine sighed. No. The man was right about many things, but he was wrong about one - as the Head of Speakers, she did not condemn him as having betrayed the Agents of Chaos. She had been against sending Scherezade to speak with him to begin with, and she could've easily assumed that the girl, lost as always on words and the meaning they had beyond the immediate, had probably not covered several incredibly obvious loose ends. Until she investigated this, she would not slap the man with the banner of betrayal.

Did the Agents of Chaos have blood on their hands? Yes, without a doubt, though if the Confederates in the room knew of what they'd actually done, they had spoken about none of it. A single accusation from a man who had not even checked to see who had caused the damage he mentioned proved nothing. It was one also easily taken care of, with a few words of the Queen of Alderaan, who knew the truth of what had happened that day.

Once again the room had to be reminded to remain on the subject, this time by Enlil . And, almost immediately, it forgot all about it again.

The floating eggwhite that had been part of the meeting so far, a woman who was most definitely not a viceroy and appeared by all accounts thus to simply be there because she was somebody's wife, did her own little melodramatic scene, crying and claiming that they were not the monsters. Oh, but you are, and so much more than that, Alwine kept herself from telling her out loud while she cried her crocodile tears. This, was what the Confederacy would fight with in the room? An unknown socialite who seemed too detached from reality to even understand what was going on? Was this how desperate they had become? She spoke so much of some us that existed, but those who did not lick the top within the Confederacy had always known better. The only us that existed within that organization was the us of friendship and borderline cultship. None of them would ever acknowledge the festering rot until they stepped out, and many of them would be in denial about it afterwards as well, claiming that it was not a thing until times more recent compared to those that had them leave. It was a tale as old as time, and it came with a repeat button.

Dib's recommendation that some people remove themselves from the room was a good one, but ultimately, not one that was likely to be heeded. Alwine nodded to the man once as he rebuffed most of Malvern's request, agreeing only to not broadcasting to Ryloth. It was an annoyance, but a minor one. The cameras in the room might not be broadcasting to Ryloth anymore, but they were still broadcasting to the rest of the galaxy. There was absolutely nothing that the Confederacy could do to keep someone watching from Coruscant, Kashyyk, or even Byss, forward content to Ryloth unless they decided to shut the entire planet's ability to communicate down, and that would only further server to sow more seeds of chaos. Direct communications could be stopped, but to shut down the entire holonet and its access to a world… They would not do that. It was not a hill to die on or even look on. And if Alwine was wrong? They would only further paint themselves as precisely the monsters they tried to deny being.

The tall man in need of a haircut seemed incredibly pleased with himself, yet for all his pompous act, he had absolutely nothing to offer but more derailing. He was welcome to think all he willed. It was obvious from his looks to his words that he for some reason thought he had the upper hand in any of this. He seemed like a man who often did think that, regardless of the situation. If words were nothing and actions were all, his choice to be her, in safety, together with his beautiful paramour who had nothing but melodramatics to offer, spoke volumes. But the Confederates had never been any good at looking in a mirror, and he was no different from any of them. When Tyferra fell, there would be few tears left to give him.

Alwine allowed herself to relax in her seat, sending assuring nods to those who were with her. Perhaps, she could give these fake saccharine Confederates exactly what they wanted. A silent Agent of Chaos. After all, the cameras were picking up all their words - and the Confederacy was giving itself a lavish burial. A dying nation of moving paper fantasy, listening to the same new told old lies of pretend supremacy and isolation.

And this was but the first domino to fall.

Woof.

 

[00M-042-OREO]

O B J E C T I V E:
FOLLOW ORDERS​

Tags:
Enemies: Oceiros Sunstrider / J'onns / Thalia Senn / Madalena Antares / Agents of Chaos
Allies: Rann Thress / Draconis Sederius Wolf / Millu Lee / Srina Talon / Prennis Keeoli / Ciri Jade / Vytal Noctura / Julra Repraj / Damsy Callat / Lunara Azure / Tess Valnora / Maeve Archeron / Allya Vi'Dreya
B-1 Party: Moe Uilor / OOM-001-JELLYBEAN / OOM-002-HONEYCOMB / OOM-003-CUPCAKE / OOM-004-DONUT / OOM-016-ASTRO

Weapon: E-5 Blaster Rifle

OOM-042-OREO watched as OOM-314-PIE rushed out of the storage unit followed by OOM-011-MARSHMALLOW, the first heroically, the second worriedly. OREO on the other hand picked up his E-5 blaster and in a monotone voice called after the two B-1s as they ran, “Wait, you forgot your… blaster.” He wasn’t really trying to call after them, what was the purpose? They were fodder for the army anyway, they were all going to get scrapped sooner or later.

A large explosion then occurred in the distance, “Oh? What was that?” wondered the B-1 as he picked up PIE’s E-5 blaster that he had hurriedly left behind. “Oh well, might as well bring Unit PIE his blaster. I guess.” He said as he holstered his own blaster on his back. Partially dragging his feet, the droid looked around himself not really knowing exactly what planet he had been activated on at this time. A Twi’lek ran past him not giving him a second glance, that was okay though, OREO didn’t want anyone’s attention.

The Droid was almost to the rally point when PIE rushed past him once again, “Uh, wait. I, uh, have your blaster.” Stumbled OREO as the B1 continued running heroically, but why? If he was running again that means he already died and was repeating his past mistake of not having his blaster.

Entering the tunnel OREO could here PIE yelling at the top of his vocabulator’s audio range. The droid finally made it to the grouping of B-1s and regrettably reported for duty to OOM-001-JELLYBEAN, “OOM-042-OREO, reporting for duty Sir. Uhm, what do you want me to do?”

 

[Darth Elyria]

CIS: Darth Metus | Redd [ | Astrid Skovgaard | Jason Farkas | Darth Miseria
AoC: Madalena Antares | Kyrinov | Hanna | The Bridesmaid | @And All Other AoC
Location: [Home of the Viceroy of Ryloth - Capital Bio-Dome]

_________________________________

The sky was on fire.​

Elyria could not see it with the eyes she had been born with. Instead—She felt it deep within. The dark moved, with the roar of an ocean, and the bittersweet taste of terror ran through her veins like a restorative tonic. She inhaled, briefly, before returning her focus to the man that thought himself significant enough to demand that she use his precious Holo-Comm to communicate. Peasant. Why would she bother with something so pedestrian when she could simply be where she wished to be? She could hear with her own ears and see with her own eyes. She did not need this device to translate.

A finely arched eyebrow raised when the Vicelord mentioned a buffet. He knew her diet just as well as she knew that he had forbade her from partaking. “I’m already cross.”, the deadpan response poured out with the ease of one taking a breath. Some of the commentary went over her head. She allowed it. Little words, for little minds, were of no concern to her. Instead, she continued to size up the occupants of the room. The building they were in seemed to belong to someone of import.

When Metus claimed that he wasn’t responsible for current events the raven-haired woman could only cross her arms in response. His mouth, among other things, never took a holiday. Cardinal wasn’t much better. Either man had a strangely high propensity for angering others. “I am grateful that I was not born in your time. To understand what you have spoken in regards to placing sticks, surely, would lower my intelligence.”

The Vicelord moved to follow one of the Wolves—But Elyria remained. He seemed stunned by the fact that the Well would likely burn to a cinder if his crude little automatons didn’t put out the flames in time. Her hands raised to offer what she believed to be a sufficient explanation. “The auto-chef refused to accept my input. Then, combustion. I was led to believe that the Mandalorian people are well acquainted with flame. Did it not burn your world to cinder?”

Perhaps, she was mistaken. The flippant tone would lead the rest of the room to understand that she didn’t actually think on any of the previous subjects in any meaningful way. Metus felt the need to make introductions, gesturing accordingly, and her lips quirked to the side. Wife? As a man, clearly, he had a way of laying ownership to things that did not belong to him. But to attempt to claim her as his life partner?

That would be a first.

“You are all welcome to meet me.”

The smile that forced itself onto her ageless features was likely more terrifying than welcoming. She had been working on making small talk, pleasantries, but it was obviously still a work in progress. Elyria might have commented more or made an inquiry toward the sister ( Shalita Verd ) that she had never met, but alas, explosion after explosion sounded, causing the floor to shake. Black eyes turned upward whilst watching a crack run up a wall before it spiderwebbed into the ceiling. The rumbling did not stop.


Her senses moved of their own accord. Reaching, through the glom like fingers that could tear reality from inexistence. “This world is unstable.”

In every sense of the word.

The Vicelord took her hand. She allowed it, mostly, out of curiosity. Black eyes followed him, but she still held her ground. He could pull as he wished, beg if it pleased, but she would not follow. Elyria had only been aware of the situation for moments. Threats from above. Threats from below. The rats scurried in mass whilst poisoning the populace with an invisible disease of words. Lies.

The sky was on fire. The world, was melting. The prodigal, traitorous children, had returned home.

And he wished to bury his head in the sand?

“You did not summon me to hide, Metus.”

Elyria would not be hidden. If he brought her to the light—His enemies would quake. He knew that. She could feel the eyes of Gerwald Lechner boring into her forehead. He felt familiar in the way rain felt the same, even though, every drop was always new, every storm. A young man that she had never met (Jason Farkas) seemed all too interested in her person. Rather, in her power. She could feel his attraction to the Dark Side as easily as she could feel the hand of Darth Metus in her own. Her energy reached for him. As always, the silent, Mother of Dark metaphysically reached for a wayward child. Corruption, was in her nature. It was the air she breathed. He would find it liberating if he chose to surrender.

Her focus shifted once more while the sibling of the Vicelord ( Shalita Verd ) seemed to take control of the movements of the others. She was intelligent, noting what was wrong, while ushering those that could not fight into the bunker.

Good. Elyria had no patience for the weak.

It seemed that they would be shuttered off to safety, however, some of the Elder Twi’lek seemed to be waiting for something.

Black eyes flickered. She delved through their minds and hearts as if their collective psyches were made of little more than wet tissue paper. Surprisingly, the dark woman did not mock them. More than anyone in the room she understood the need for an ending. Closure. A promise that the sun would still rise the following day. That Ryloth would continue—That they would not wake in a new form of bondage where their ability to choose had been stripped away under the guise of independence. Her free hand rose and slender digits fell to the face of the Sith Lord. He was concentrating.

On the wrong thing.

“You called me here because I will tell you what must be done. You are not ready to accept the truth—so I will aid you.”, Elyria spoke, quietly enough, that the others would have difficulty hearing. Well. All except the Wolves. She could smell the canine in them and well knew the stories that they could hear a mouse squeak from a city block away. “You hesitate to act. The enemy you face this day is not a nameless Empire. It is your former friends, former allies, and even your own offspring. The faces of the Twi’lek that have risen from the depths look too similar to the acquaintances and citizens that you have pledged to protect. You must come to terms, Vicelord. These are not your people.”

“Your people stand behind you. Beside you. Your enemies harm themselves and others, either through ideals, or unwarranted bloodshed. They are weak. They cannot defeat you through arms so they seek to discredit and denounce your image. Do not listen. Close your ears—Harden, your heart. You will never be able to make peace with those that sacrifice their own. They cannot be bought. You will never be able to convince them to lay down their arms. They will never be rehabilitated, moreover, they will never stop.”, she paused, briefly, while the building shook again. It sounded as if something large had hit the roof. Elyria did not know what, only, that the air seemed almost sticky and strangely humid. “You must also understand that they are not simply crazed fanatics. They are rational in their own mind, united, by hatred that is bred in the bone.”

“There is no cure, Vicelord, only excision.”

Her words on the subject were plain. Delivered, in the same way, one might describe the weather. The notion that a cancerous tumor required removal so that an organism might live was not new. Elyria came from a world in which the weak were devoured by the strong. Where strange, bleating creatures, did not bother their betters with such trivial pursuits. Darth Metus and his Confederacy existed in a world that was a far cry different. As she understood—Voices mattered. The needs of the many rose above the needs of the elite. Strange, but she didn’t care to comment on the mechanics which perplexed her. “…Every moment wasted is another moment that the enemy has won. Every moment they exist is a moment in which your people know death and fear.”

Her hand fell from his face and she pulled free from his grasp. Ghostly footsteps pulled her toward the exit so that she could witness the calamity for what it was. She was not a child, nor, was she one of his purple-blooded constituents. Elyria had seen countless nations rise and fall, occasionally, over misunderstandings that amounted to a misappropriated kiss. This held no difference, no significance, save for the fact that it had interrupted an otherwise pleasant afternoon.

At the end of the day; the events that had transpired thus far were common. She was not concerned with the galaxy at large. Gossipmongers and those with forked-tongues would always find something to besmirch. Some reason to mock or covet what others held. Greed was the nature of mortal life; one sin among many. She was dispassionate. Their words and opinions weighed less than sunlight.

For Darth Metus she had appeared from oblivion. For herself—She only required that it end.

Spoiler: Edit

I had to edit cause my first line didn't copy/paste right. I'm a bum. Sorry! - Oh and a color fix. Still a bum. My B.

 

[Madalena Antares]

Location: Headed to the Altar of Spirits
Objective: Looks like we're about to fight!
Wearing: Armor (tinted deep red)
Wielding: Meymad | Vita Stones | Shiftglue | Whimsy Knife | Glitter Grenades
Allies: Agents of Chaos, The Siskeen Coalition, Twi'lek Freedom Fighters | Jai'galaar Gred Judd Hunter Hanna Katrine Van-Derveld Anesia Jy'Vun
Enemies: The Confederacy has chosen. | @ Any Confederates not busy hiding behind civilians in the biodome.

A world, was often influenced by many. In a galaxy far, far away, where space travel existed and all one needed was enough credits and only rarely a passport, few were the planets that could claim to be entirely void of external influence. Ryloth was such a planet. The lives of the Twi'leks had forever been altered by the colonization of the Confederacy of it, and the damage and changes that had rippled as a result of that had grown larger than the Confederate machine had dared imagine.

Because they had not dared to imagine. Led by liars and protected by liars, millions of combatants, politicians, servants, civilians… ALl of them served the well lubed cogs of the machine, believing so hard that they were doing the right thing. That claiming that a society, the society itself, needed "fixing", so they would do it. In pulling so many Twi'leks from the underground to the domes, they had attempted to commit a cultural genocide.

But it didn't end with the Twi'leks.

Not far away, in the mountains through which they soon would pass, was the Altar of Spirits. A focal point for the Mandragora, a religion that had existed for thousands of years but had been taken by the Confederacy, and gotten manipulated and abused to such a degree that now they used those of the faith as holy warriors of sorts. Millions could believe in the spirits, but this had ceased being what this was about. The Mandragora religion had been common enough on several worlds, but this… This was the source.

And this was what had to be cleansed from the planet. For there was no problem with the Mandragora religion itself, only with the farse that the Confederacy had done it. The planet was teeming with such places, but Agents of Chaos knew they could not tackle each and every single one of them on this day. Instead, two prime location had been chosen - the altar, and the castle. Others would be going to the castle, while those who were with Madalena, and - "Nocte Aranea had landed, we track to the mountains and will meet you there." - the former Nightmother herself, would cleanse this place.

An empire, was more than soldiers, was more than banners, was more than ideas. The Confederacy could claim to not be an empire until kingdom come, yet when it hoarded so many planets, singing them to contracts that stated membership was permanent and taxes were too while lying through their teeth and claiming it was not mandatory at all, they had spread just like an empire. And an empire… Was an idea. A giant idea of this is mine, and so is this, and so is that, and I shall destroy those who challenge this.

Philosophers would claim that an idea could not be hurt, that it lacked the tangibility required to be damaged. And they were wrong. Remove the triggers of the idea, and the idea weakens, trembles, and eventually vanishes. Wipe it clean, and with time all will forget it had ever existed. Even if they were successful on the military front this day, it would not completely wipe the traces of the Confederate Empire from the planet. Madalena knew that it would take years to properly clean it.

But to remove some of the points that were so strongly linked with the Confederacy itself, even though they intelligently manipulated native Rylothian bits and pieces into them… That would be a grand start. That would show the twi'leks that the lie they had been fed, the straight frontal view they were permitted to see and nothing beyond that, were wrong.

Looking to Judd Hunter , Madalena just barely managed to suppress her smirk when she realized he was not going to be smoking until they were off the planet. His lung capacity interested her now; as one of her Aspects, she'd get to directly witness how he operated under the stress of not having his fix met. To Hanna , she sent a smile when she noted that they were already happy, and that smile widened as she saw Jai'galaar Gred pull his own weapon out. Three Aspects - each of them so different from the other, each of them battling very different types of demons. And she knew, that despite the Vita Stones that some of them carried, there was a chance that the Mandragora spirits would challenge them all.

"A few miles to there to get to the stairs to lead to the altar," Madalena said and pointed.

There was no reason to delay. Ideally, they would've landed closer, but that hadn't been an option this day. Even better though, an idea for drop pods that opened mid-fall and turned to parachutes to allow landing in such zones popped into her mind. She was going to send the outline idea to her sister later to make sure these were made. That whole landing a distance and trekking to get to a location thing was incredibly ridiculous. After all, they were in 860ABY. Technology was advanced enough for something like that.

As they walked, Madalena looked to the skies, spotting a single Can-cell flying over their head in the opposite direction, and could not help but smile. "Some consider the appearance of those a good omen," she explained to the rest of the team as they continued their trek to the mountains, "If the Mandragora actually show up at the Altar of Spirits, we're going to need as many such omens on our side. It's easy to shoot a witch between the eyes, it's harder to kill the idea of a religion that breeds religious warriors that rely on spirits for various things."

It was only a short while later that the group reached the stairs that led from the base of the mountain all the way up to where the altar was.

Madalena smiled. Whether they would catch up with Katrine Van-Derveld or she would catch up with them, they were near. The altar would be desecrated. This, was most definitely the way.

 

[Tyrias Aran]

Location: Planetside Dropships
Deployed Fleet: 7x Miraj-class Heavy Assault Dropships

Allies: Luna Terrik | The Monster | Ryk Gaelir | Sabine Delacroix | Those Inside The Dome
Unconfirmed: Thalia Senn | Scherezade deWinter
Hostiles: Oceiros Sunstrider | J'onns

"Roger, Grand Marshal, Lucky Seven Heavy is oscar mike."

The dropships had been positioned low in orbit over the planet in preparation for rapid descent into hostile territory. Four were dispatched early on to investigate the sudden appearance of twenty thousand new life forms clustered together. The remaining three awaited orders, which became steadily garbled with interference leaving them on their own for a short time. They knew the job, however, and could take care of themselves.

At least until a massive detonation forced them to dive toward the planet. That and the ship that had been carrying the payload not braking in time. Fortunately their ships were built to endure harsh environments; both above and below. Rather than expend fuel trying to regain their position getting the kark out of the way of the mess upstairs, the dropships fell toward Ryloth. One went to the Capital dome because it was under assault, another to a dome nearby because of repots hostiles had been spotted outside it (though they'd be relocating under orders as well), and the third fell to one of the other key strategic locations on the planet -- the Castle into the clearing to one side of the bridge for guests that didn't want to use the hanger. Hangers weren't good for dropships. Not much action there.

Two of the first four dropships, meanwhile, had taken flight back toward the Capital dome. Oh, they'd followed the flightless birds for a time, but then they went to full speed to get ahead of the buggers. Whatever was intended, the Officers aboard the ships didn't want to find out. Introducing a non-indigenous lifeform at volume with no declaration of intent... They'd assume the worst.

After they had departed, a third dropship came about and sped off into the distance in a different direction. One was left behind to plot how to steer a herd of creatures standing around to somewhere nice and contained. Somewhere they could unload and put an end to this incredibly awkward staring contest the creatures probably had no clue they were participating in.

Miraj-class Heavy Assault Drop 'Lucky Seven,' already on-site outside the capital facing a growing heatstorm outside, was happy to hear from Ground Command. Especially after some kind of explosion created a gap in the dome's defenses. There'd definitely been an expletive in the wake of that.

Carefully, the dropship moved in along side the dome near where the explosives had collapsed an underground tunnel to help pipe in the scorching air. With a careful eye on the instruments, the RX-D13X Propulsion Drive helped tuck them in nice and close for touch down. No doubt those already working to shore up the dome wouldn't like it if they got sideswiped. Hell, Command would tear their head off.

The one hundred and eighty meter long craft turned its turrets away from the dome; the ventral ones constrained vertically by the dropship's proximity to the ground. In position, Lucky Seven activated more of its MRS-01 Eir Defense System's generators to form a shell around it and to screen the thermal drafts from entering the civilian center.

"Deflector shields, ray shields, molecular shields, radiation shields..."

"Particle shields?"

"Kark, why not? Those people inside seem to have a frelling problem on their hands, we don't need one out here."

"This is going to drain our energy pretty quick, LT."

What was the point of their humble little thorn-riddled battering ram? Cut the enemy down to size. Well if they had to do that metaphorically so the civilians were safe that'd be just fine. Except for sitting there in wait. That was the worst feeling, and one they were now ordered to do. Sit there, look pretty, and please don't blow up before support arrives. No pressure.

 

[Annasari]

Location: Derek Dib's Palace, Olanet, Siskeen System
Wearing: Armor
Allies: Agents of Chaos, The Siskeen Coalition, Twi'lek Freedom Fighters | Derek Dib Enlil Gabriel Volturi Alwine Daye Larentia Izwi Kutaurira + anyone I missed
Enemies: The Confederacy | John Locke Raven Thystle Faye Malvern Daegon Corvinus Seraphina Corvinus Visanj T'shkali + anyone I missed
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When Annasari had finished saying her piece, she leaned back in her chair slightly, grimacing. She didn’t mean to have an outburst, to let those across the table get the best of her, but they had somehow managed it.

As Derek spoke of this parable, Annasari’s shame grew. She felt as though she had shrunk within her skin, becoming that frail child who had misbehaved once more, scared of the consequences, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The lines in her face deepened as she attempted to correct her thinking. She was not the small child anymore, fearful of the other shoe falling. She had grown into a strong woman who was more than allowed to voice her opinion, especially when defense was warranted.

As Derek continued on, she found herself agreeing with most of his words. No parties in this conflict were innocent, but it was a matter of who’s crimes outweighed the others. The violence was surely befalling Ryloth was a heavy subject, but Annasari found it a necessary one for the cause of freedom.

When a woman (Faye Malvern ) began addressing the room, Annasari’s lip curled slightly at her words. Of course they wanted the cameras gone. The recordings held them all accountable, as well as letting the rest of the galaxy know if they could peacefully remove themselves from the Confederacy. Neither seemed to be ideal for them, but Annasari hoped the Viceroy would see the hidden implications of her words.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Enlil poking his head in and reminding them of why they were there. She too wanted to end this mummer's farce, but people kept seeming to dance around it.

Annasari raised her eyebrows, seeing the fit of another woman ( Seraphina Corvinus ). Annasari found herself wondering exactly what this other woman’s presence added, other than more chaos.

As the man next to said woman ( Daegon Corvinus ) cut in once again, Annasari grew slightly more disgusted. He seemed to need to have the last word- and the arrogance that dripped off him was almost sickening. Very well then, he can have it, she thought, maintaining her silence like she had been ever so kindly told to do.

When Derek spoke once again, Annasari had to work to keep the smile off her face. She was glad he saw the same reasoning as her when it came to the cameras, and it seemed he wanted to move this show right along as well.

Her eyes flickered around the room, observing each and every face. Curiosity washed over her as she wondered if this would really be all it took. It was then she realized she was still sitting there, waiting for the other shoe to drop.