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

[Derek Dib]

Location: Palace, Pristine City, Olanet
7th Fleet Location: Entering Ryloth system space
Personnel: Alwine Daye , Annasari , Gabriel Volturi , Holly Starstorm , Larentia , John Locke , Raven Thystle , Faye Malvern , Visanj T'shkali , Kyyrk , Daegon Corvinus , and @ everyone else I missed

U.S.C. 7th Fleet, Auxiliary Command

Spoiler

USC Dolemite (Prometheus Mark I Class Battle Cruiser)
Flagship: USC Kraken (SD-584 "Leviathan" Class Star Destroyer)
USC Avenger (Gunray-class Star Destroyer)
USC Freedom(Tambor-class Star Destroyer)
USC Defender (Enmesh-class Interdictor Cruiser)

x2 Sentinel-class Patrol Frigate
~ USC Sentinel's Revenge
~ USC Sentinel's Favor

x8 Blastoise Armored Escort Cruiser
~ USC Hawkbat
~ USC Blade
~ USC Valeria
~ USC Widow's Snare
~ USC Onyx
~ USC Gamora
~ USC Ivory Wish
~ USC Faust

x2 Diamond-Class Carrier Mk:II
~ USC Diamond's Glare
~ USC Diamond Cut

x2 Nest Class Carrier Cruiser
~ USC Razor's Nest
~ USC Mynock's Nest

The ancient being watched the ticking time, each progression of the second marching the fleet that much closer to their objective. Idly he wondered if the diplomatic meeting managed to secure the goal. And then he excused the mild deviation of curiosity back from whence it came. His lot was not to ponder the results of the delegates engrossed in the subtle play of words. No, was here for a purpose, one that would not be altered by the outcome in the neighboring system. The seemingly paper thin skin around his eyes crinkled slightly while scrutinizing the timer that was mere seconds from expiring.

And then the wait was over.

The fleet appeared in the outer realm of the Ryloth System, turning an empty void of space into a bustling next of activity. The USC Dolemite took point with the other four capital ships arranging into a diamond pattern, the other ships drifting to the center of the line. The wizened chiss lightly tapped a button on the arm of his chair with a single slender finger. The fleet wide channel broadcasted for all to hear.

“Launch all starfighters. Raise shields and power on weapon systems. All hands to battlestations, this is not a drill. Remember your training and we shall win the day.”

The ancient chiss leaned forward with elbows planted on his knees, chin touching the steepled fingers.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Derek sat silent listening to the eloquent words plied masterfully by diplomatic craftsmen he couldn't help but feel the pull due to the charismatic pleas. Daegon addressed him directly again, his words stirring his soul within. Innocence was being stripped away with little to no quarter given for such civilians on Ryloth. Too often history watched war unfold among innocents. It was always thus, and would always be. As long as sentient beings went to war with one another there would always be acceptable loss of life and collateral damage. It was the way the galaxy worked.

Then Visanj drew near, beseeching from her personal experience and the similar wishes for their separate people. Once again the smooth words and impassioned pleas echoed in his chest begging for his conformity. It grew difficult to separate the two ideas he wished for his people. And yet he persevered in not succumbing instantly to the vision bandied about so effortlessly. Gathering his thoughts to respond to the blonde confederate, he was beat by Larentia who spoke plainly about the discrepancy in advice and life choice for her own nation.

Finally Voph interjected, excusing himself from the delegation and meeting. Derek turned his back on the group gathered and stared out the window for a moment before turning back to his guests. It was never easy navigating without a map or compass. Obstacles and threats that lingered just beneath the surface were unknown, so delicate care was necessary to sojourn through dangerous waters.

“I thank you all for coming today. Your input, insightfulness, and opinions have lent aid to my own mind in these troubled times. And a decision has been reached. The United Siskeen Coalition will no longer be Confederate space but, rather, the beginning of a new era for the Siskeeni. Today the bonds that bind us in perpetuity with the Confederacy of Independent Systems are destroyed. No more will we go to war based on the directions of others. No longer will our morality be skewed by a vision not our own. We are vassals and dependencies for a greater nation no more. Today we stand as citizens of a nation that succeeds or fails on our own merits. We decide what is best for us.”

Looking to Visanj, Locke, and the empty seat Voph abandoned gave slight pause to Derek’s words.

“Confederacy Exarch, Minister, and Lord Commander have all given their support for this monumental decision, though they cautioned against its immediacy. I do not rush into the void of separation lightly. But neither do I expect to remain cut off from others. We desire to be a completely independent nation rather than a member state. To alleviate concerns the USC will make reparations for the financial and military support received at the beginning of the Siskeen entry into the Confederacy. A respectful interest will also be paid for the monetary value given by the Confederacy.”

“For too many centuries and centuries has Siskeen marched to the tempo of others. Sometimes as heroes, but more often as villains. We want our right to completely decide our fates and destiny to rest squarely in Siskeeni hands. After the theatre of war in the Ryloth System has been finished I would like to discuss potential agreements between the CIS and the USC. There are many details that need to be handled carefully.”

His eyes narrowed upon Daegon and Seraphina as he felt the light vibration from the chronometer against his wrist. Fingers drummed sporadically upon the chair in a broken percussion symphony.

“The first order given to the free nation of the United Siskeen Coalition is one put into motion before this meeting began. For with or without the approval of the Confederacy, the first action would have been ordered regardless. Even now the USC 7th Fleet has arrived in the Ryloth system. For many years I have counted Lyla Quinn , not just a fellow diplomat and viceroy but, as a friend to my system and myself. With that being said my Admiral will be launching humanitarian aid to those needing it while offering protection against any that seek to strike down the noncombatant civilians. And attacks upon my people, the USC, will be seen as acts of aggression and we will respond in kind.”

His eyes flared a bit brighter with his announcement, yet he wished such words were not needed. However he knew from first hand experience that sometimes words failed and all that was left was action. He silently sent a prayer into the ether that all would be well. Looking at the message on his wrist he nodded slightly. Admiral Dib'eor'nuruodo was moving into position and advancing.

 

[Tyrias Aran]

Location: In Orbit of Ryloth, aboard the Sapphiric Scorn
Deployed Fleet: Providence II-class Carrier/Destroyer | Farstar-class Military Space Station | 4x Squadrons of RMS-SC01 Starbird-class Space Superiority Starfighter | 1x Squadron of T-77 "Talon" Stealth Interceptor | 3x Squadrons of Variable Geometry Self-Propelled Battle Droid, Mk III | 3x Hellspear Frigate | Argente-class Assault Cruiser | 6x Terrus-class Flak Corvettes | Comfort-class Medical Frigate | 16x Squadrons of RMS-SC01 Starbird-class Space Superiority Starfighter | 10x Squadrons of Variable Geometry Self-Propelled Battle Droid, Mk III | 3x Squadrons of RMS-BC11 Starhammer-class Superheavy Bomber
Planetside: 7x Miraj-class Heavy Assault Dropships

Allies: Amelia von Sorenn | Luna Terrik | Darth Metus | Kiff Brayde | Kathryn Foster | Lyla Quinn | Dib'eor'nuruodo | Derek Dib
Unauthorized Fleet but not yet Hostile: Dimitri Lindzinsky | Lash | Bella | Kyrinov | Scherezade deWinter

The Apophis terminated its beams and veered off when the vessel that had valiantly sought to slaughter people wholesale began to break up. It was nice they chose not to follow through, but 'nice' didn't pardon you from being less than half a second from committing a War Crime. The defenders didn't have the luxury of anticipating such a change of heart. No indication of such a change. No time to react even if they had the wherewithal of this change. Detonation of their weapon and then continuing on a suicide run at the planet warranted destruction or diversion. When the ship didn't respond to explosive shoves, they resorted to tractors. It did respond then, though not according to the best case scenario. Then again, no one expected the best case to come true -- but you could always hope.

As the engineering compartment feel, the Apophis directed its attention toward the bulk with the reactor whose energy had drawn their eye in all this. Lifting a Battlecruiser was quite a load, and the danger had been overwhelming. A part of a Battlecruiser, however, was easier to manage. A burden they would shoulder to fling it into the abandoned regions, or haul back out into orbit. As it turned out, the reactor decided to implode and saved the Apophis the extra work.

The Flak Corvettes dove and steered the other fragments of the vessel away from civilian harm. That too would be short work as the Golden Lance seemed constructed to disintegrate entering atmosphere. Fortunately, while several of them had suffered a number of brute force trauma injuries from their shields being slammed, the Corvettes had survived their almost certain death plan. With no reactor detonation, their shields weathered the abuse; even skirting the height of atmosphere slid over their Eir Defense System's shields.

The medical personnel aboard scrambled to tend to the wounded. Some were merely fractured ribs where some pain relief and a good bed would do. Others had head injuries requiring a strong application of bacta or kolto (depending on any allergies).

Commander Jamieson could finally relax when word the ships were beginning to turn away from Ryloth was received. Battle Meditation or no battle meditation, the concern one felt for their fellow soldier did not abate. His attention turned to the audio transmission by Dimitri Lindzinsky as he politely asked their offer of support be withdrawn. As polite as one could be while threatening to shoot rescue personnel anyway. Bit of an eyebrow raiser when this other commander suggested they needed to defend themselves if the support craft didn't withdrawal as though they were in the Ryloth system with permission and it was the Confederacy that did not belong. Would have been funny, if they weren't one itchy trigger finger from all out war.

Man could have just said 'No, thank you, we have it in hand,' the Commander mentally grumbled to himself. "Inform the Grand Marshal of our intent to withdrawal the rescue craft, and inform our vessels to resume positions." A brief 'aye, sir' was sounded before communication was sent to Amelia von Sorenn and Kathryn Foster regarding this development. The Confederacy had offered its support, and it had been declined. Situation resolved. Shame they likely wouldn't see the same would be true to Ryloth -- if they'd not originally sought help, the Confederacy wouldn't be there.

"Now, about our friends making for the backdoor," Jamiesom grunted.

"To any and all ships in the Ryloth System: you are not, under any circumstance, to approach any planet with this star system without express permission by the Confederacy of Independent Systems' Defense Force. This include Ryloth. I will speak for all of us when I say attempted Acts of War perpetrated upon a peaceful people is unacceptable, and as such for the time being all unauthorized traffic to or from the planet is hereby suspended until the terrorists are apprehended or the Viceroy of Ryloth herself asks us to lift this restriction. Should you have any complaints, rest assured the Confederate Naval Command or the Viceroy of Ryloth will gladly hear them and act upon them in the appropriate manner. Furthermore," Jamieson paced toward the fore of the bridge leisurely, "any vessel suffering from a technical or medical emergency will be furnished with support by Confederate vessels in this system. Rest assured, any emergencies can and will be handed swiftly and effectively, and that the protection of Ryloth while it is assaulted by cowards will not in any way impede our commitment to those in need within this system." (Dimitri Lindzinsky, Lash , Bella , Kyrinov )

The Commander paused, his eyes gazing out the window into space as his announcement came to an end. "Now, those unauthorized vessels making a run for the planet... I suggest you turn away from the planet. Now, in case I have not been crystal clear up to this point." ( Scherezade deWinter ) After all, it would be unfortunate if the enemy hiding behind the seal of medical aid were to become permanently stranded on the planet below. Far better for them to stay up here where it was nice and safe. No?

"Sir... we're picking up more vessels entering the system."

Jamieson turned his head aside with a pinched brow.

"We're receiving word from Command. There're offering aid, Commander; from the United Siskeen Coalition, sir." ( Lyla Quinn , Dib'eor'nuruodo , Derek Dib )

His eyebrow rose again, only now the downward turn of his lips lifted. Siskeen? He gestured for his Officer to stay in contact with the Grand Marshal to see how they should proceed on all fronts. Hopefully this was a positive turn in their favor. The men and women that'd been defending the world below had taken a beating and could use the good news.

Slowly Tyrias' eyes fluttered open with a drop of sweat rolling down the side of her face. One finger lifted as if to move a stray strand of hair out of her face, but really had been sent on a mission to secure that drop from sight. The Battle Meditation took a great deal out of her. Fortunately she didn't need to perform any backflips or wave a glowing blade of plasma around afterward.

With care the Chiss Fleet Marshal rose from her command chair and forced her shoulders square despite the ache in her body. "Sitrep, Commander." There was a difference being the nexus of activity, and knowing what the activity was consciously. Best not to make any assumptions.

 

[Sabine Delacroix]

​

​

Attire: This
Location: Ryloth, Vureshakkairn Castle - Courtyard
Equipment: Lightsaber, Mask
Enemies: AOC
Allies: CIS + Allies
TAG: Lirka Ka | Scherezade deWinter | Luna Vega | Millu Lee | Zlova Rue | @Anybody I missed at the castle



Sabine had moved across the castle with haste; fortunately, the layout of the castle at this point had become familiar. She was uncertain of the events that had occurred on Ryloth to this point, but she could feel a shift in the force, death and destruction permeated the air, in days gone she would have reveled in it, but time had changed her quite a bit as had her experiences in this era since she awoke. Of the two approaching she knew little; one thing she was keenly aware of however is that the castle rarely had visitors and while the Nightmother was away. One thing was certain if they had come for trouble they would not be disappointed.

Swiftly moving through the central tower, she could hear heavy steps from the Valley of Life, growing ever louder and moving toward her. She could imagine in her mind the trees swaying and the beasts scattering from before it. It's best speed was not impressive, but it did not need to be when it bore scales such as it had, killing it would be difficult enough if you could manage to not be exposed to its venom in the process and of course to further complicate the matter to also contend with a Sith Lord at the same time.

Upon arriving at the door to the outer courtyard Sabine lifted a hand and the door opened wide allowing her to step quickly though and as she did the door slammed shut and locked behind her, both announcing her arrival and drawing attention from those assembled before her, should she or anyone else want inside they would find it more difficult now.

Dressed head to toe in her black robes she moved across the courtyard slowly but with purpose and there she found an odd sight, a creature whom she did not know ( Lirka Ka ) howling at who she would assume were their uninvited guests.( Luna Vega , Scherezade deWinter ) As she approached the grouping she spoke loudly enough that all could hear, “Welcome to Castle Vureshakkairn, the fact that you made it here so easily tells me you are familiar with this place. Regretfully if you have come to seek the Nightmother well, my apologies but the Nightmother is not currently in, perhaps you could return at another time for a…. Proper welcome.” the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile behind her mask and she paused only feet apart as she allowed her arms to fall to her sides, no aggression was presented, no desire for battle only words, at least for now She would first take a measure of the two women before her.

 

[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


He could sense them.

Like rats scurrying about their pathetic little hold. No matter how he tried to rationalize it the Sith Lord could not fathom how they allowed such an incursion to grow beneath their own noses. When he'd laid the title of Exarch away from his path it was because he believed he had little more to offer The Confederacy in a military capacity, which meant he could spend his time in other ventures, like his own homeworld. Yet, Metus had allowed something of this magnitude to grow unchecked? As they sped through the barrens with three massive shadows of death flying high above Malphas couldn't help but hiss under his breath. "Are we this blind and deaf?"

He swung his speeder bike around when he found them approaching the mountain. It was even larger than the one that had birthed the three dragons, yet the force let off faint whispers of the life that crawled within. The Commando Droids stopped effeciently to the Viceroy's side, turning their optical sensors to the mountain almost immediately. One of the command units pulled out a set of rangefinders, tuning them to the mountain and activating the bio-scanner. "Viceroy. We're detecting multiple lifeforms in that land mass, but due to the density of the rock we can't be certain of their exact number."

You could always count on a droid to state the obvious. A loud rumbling occured as Obsidia's massive feet slammed into the ground as she spread her wings wide, letting out another deafening roar towards the mountain.

Darth Malphas stared at the mass of rock while his eyes soon began to give off faint wisps of amethyst shadow. "Obsidia." He spoke softly, his dragon's eyes beginning to leak the same amethyst shadow as his own. Malphas' hands rose as if attempting to clasp the mountain in his hands. Even from where he was he could see the paths and avenues on the mountain, some leading into the inner workings of the mountain. He looked from one...to another...and finally...

"There."

Obsidia's wings slammed into the air behind her, launching her into the skies and sending her flying towards the mountain with a deadly intent. The massive black dragon flew forward at staggering speeds, her nose inhaling the air and searching for any sign of prey. When finally she impacted the mountain wall a mass of rock and rubble fell from under her pressure as she began to roar, clawing and gnawing at the path before her as if she was trying to destroy it entirely.

The dragon was on the hunt and when her sisters joined her it would not be long before they tasted their prey.

 

[John Locke]

​

N E G O T I A T E

Location: Conference
Wearing: This
Objective: Do what's best
Tagging:
CIS: Daegon Corvinus | Seraphina Corvinus | Visanj T'shkali | Kyyrk | Faye Malvern | Raven Thystle | Srina Talon | Amelia von Sorenn
AOC: Annasari | Enlil | Alwine Daye | Gabriel Volturi
Siskeen: Derek Dib

​

The Exarch was an almost statuesque figure, leaning back in his chair with his fingers pressed together, steepled in front of his face. Slowly the man’s hands slipped down, pressing against the arms of his chair as he pushed himself up. ​

​

He’d always known that it was unlikely that the Viceroy would change his mind, his people had spoken and the leader who ignored the will of the people was a leader who was not long for his position. In the end, from the gang leader with his clan of 20 to the Vicelord commanding hundreds of stars and thousands of planets, they merely represented the people. ​

​

As powerful as a president, as an Exarch or Vicelord appeared to be, theirs was a power that came from the support of others, from the countless citizens who ran the apparatus of state, who volunteered for the military. Who believed in them. ​

​

John had arrived at the negotiations with the firm belief that they were stronger together, that having a community to support you was the most important pillar that held up civilization. The larger, the stronger your community the more you could accomplish. And the Confederacy had achieved miracles, had built a peace that echoed across space, had abolished slavery within their space and brought the kind of peace and prosperity that had allowed Siskeen to have this debate, to reach this conclusion. The system was a community in its own right, and theirs was the choice of what their future held, no-one else’s. ​

​

The Exarch’s voice was soft as he glanced over to Derek, inclining his head at the Viceroy...no the President. This man was no longer part of the Confederacy but a true head of state in his own right. ​

​

“I’m sorry that we couldn’t convince you to stay, but I’ve got nothing but respect for you and the path your planet is taking. If I can assist in anyway then please reach out.” ​

​

Soft words exchanged between leaders, compassion and acceptance in the cyborg’s dark-eyed gaze. The gaze was held for a moment before John’s gaze swept over towards the cameras, the face of the man replaced by the mask of the Exarch as his eyes slid over the assembled bodies on the other side of the table. ​

​

“On behalf of the Vicelord and the Confederacy of Independent Systems we accept the secession of the Siskeen system and welcome our friends onto the galactic stage. We hope for many years of friendly relations with our new neighbour and wish them the best in their endeavours. The Confederacy looks forward to seeing what the future holds in store for them.” ​

​

In the silence that followed his declaration, John let his gaze fall back to the Speakers who occupied the opposite side of the table from the party from the CIS, inclining his head ever so slightly at them. Despite the cordial gesture, the man’s voice could have been used to freeze carbonite as he offered them the barest hint of an icy smile. ​

​

“And my thanks to these Agents of Chaos for taking time off from their busy schedules to come and observe these talks. I only regret that it proved to be a waste of your time, No arguments, no negotiations were needed in the end, we will always stand by a planet’s right to choose whether it wishes to stand with us or not.”​

​

The man’s dark eyes met Annasari’s, no more warmth in his expression as he nodded at her. ​

​

“You were right, it is important to speak clearly and get to the grist of the matter at hand, but I believe that concludes our business here for today. As President Dib has said, any future negotiations between the CIS and Siskeen can wait until after the situation on Ryloth has been dealt with.”​

​

His gaze swung back to the ex-Viceroy, his voice warm now as he bowed his head respectfully at the man. ​

​

“We thank you for sending your fleet to help deal with the humanitarian crisis fomented on the planet by those who’re endangering innocent lives.”​

​

The cyborg fell silent as his eyes flashed a bright turquoise, the latest reports from Ryloth streaming quickly across his vision before he spoke again. ​

​

“Actually, the Agents of Chaos appear to have fired on Confederate assets in the system aiming to provide aid and support to the population. If you could please ask your admiral to liaise with Grand Marshal Sorenn I’ll instruct her to provide you access to the planet. Our forces will do their best to screen you and keep yours out of the fight.”​

​

More information span across his vision as he sent a quick message to Amelia, warning her of the arrival of new friendly forces in the area. Next up on his Agenda was a quick message to his fellow Exarch as the first wave of Pridwen Cruisers arrived in the system. It was but the work of a moment to reach out to leave his fellow Exarch of the arrival of the hospital ships and placing them under her command.​

​

The cyborg’s gaze was troubled as he settled down into his seat, eyes focusing on Derek again as he gave the man a sad smile.​

​

“Honestly, any aid you can provide would be appreciated, the attacks of the surface look like they’ve damaged one of the biodomes and we’re going to need to evacuate its entire population before we can even think about sending in engineers to repair the damage.”​

​

But they would, if he had to pay for it himself. If Locke and Key Mechanics had to construct the Biodome, the people who had to flee today would return home. He guaranteed it.​

​

​

​

 

[Théodoro]

// THEO // THYRSIAN SUN GUARD // WORTHY OPPONENT
// OBJECTIVE // BATTLE OF RYLOTH // DUEL
// FOCUS // Beric Layne
// REGALIA // IN BIO // 2x Wrist Rockets

Once he landed his first hit, Theo's relentless offensive finally slowed, and he watched his opponent stand once more. Beric's breathing was pained -- Theo would be a fool to miss the wince as he stood, then took a little too deep a breath. If he had to guess, the Sun Guard had probably broken a rib or two, and if he'd dislodged it enough that it was touching a lung when Beric inhaled... well, in Theo's view this fight was nearly over.

The breath was from where a warrior gained his focus. If the breath was disrupted, they would lose their energy quickly, and would quickly fall to an opponent, even one less skilled. It was worse for a Force user -- that focus would break their concentration and slow their body much more than another. Up until this point, Beric had been keeping up with Theo, if not a little faster. The Sun Guard would likely have been beaten in pure physicality if he wasn't enhanced by his armor. But now that the first blow had been struck...

No. Those eyes betrayed his conviction, and behind them Theo could see a mind working rapidly. The Sun Guard inhaled deeply, allowing his muscles a moment to relax as he spoke to his opponent. "Come, Beric Layne! Is this all the warriors of the Confederacy have to offer? Do not tell me that your nation is held only by bureaucrats and other weaklings! Even rabble like these Agents of Chaos can defeat you. Show me your strength! Do not make me a fool for choosing an opponent too weak to face me," Theo roared, before leveling his lance towards his opponent once more and charging. He could only hope that reminding Beric of his cause would make him fight harder.

Still, he would be a fool to not continue to try to win this battle. Theo closed the distance quickly, taking a deep breath just before they clashed once more. His strategy here was simple; compared to his earlier grace, power, and cleverness, this was even more brutish. The force pike was deadly even with little power behind a strike, similar to a lightsaber, so Theo kept his attacks short, focusing on a rapid series of thrusts to keep the pressure on his opponent. Even the best warriors needed to breath in between flurries of attacks, but with Beric's injured ribs disrupting his breathing, Theo focused on keeping his stream of attacks near-continuous to force his opponent to be short of breath. The Sun Guard pursued and attacked his opponent relentlessly.

 

[Shuklaar Kyrdol]

Location: Bright Lands, outside the Capital Dome. Near the CDF base.
Covered By: Eight Vuhyr'yalilyr Rammikade and Jare'la.
Immediate Ally: Allya Vi'Dreya
Immediate Enemy: Strider Garon
Objective: Attend to this personally.
​

Equipment:

• 'Vuhyr'yalilyr'gam'​
  • Kelvarek Consolidated Arms MM9 rocket system
    • K-26 Explosive Anti-Vehicle Rocket (3)
    • Type-12A Anti-Personnel Rocket (3, 1 loaded)
  • Shatter Beam
  • ZX Miniature Flame Projector
  • Velocity-7 Dart Shooter
    • Electro Darts (4)
    • Explosive Darts (4, 1 loaded)
• 'Rammikad' Enhancement Package​
• PPC-01 Phased Pulse Cannon (left behind at previous position)​
• DP-02 Class-D Heavy Disruptor Pistol​
• Mono-molecular Edge Beskar Beskad
• Det-Packs (4)
• Flex-5 Detonite Tape (2 rolls)
• Class-A Thermal Detonator (3)
• NOVA40 Plasma Grenade (3)

With the macrobinocular mode on his visor set to maximum magnification, Shuklaar's ID scanner had no problem identifying the recently dismounted rider as Strider Garon himself. Or something who looked far too much like him for anyone, including the di'kut in question, to be comfortable with. Strider's politics as far as he knew had been more than a little extremist, but at the same time, the shabuir had also been one of those that had backed Kaine Australis. He'd tried to accept that man as his Mand'alor, he'd tried to work with him, but that just didn't work out.

It didn't surprise him one bit that Strider had thrown behind shabuire like these Agents of Chaos, why would it? Any excuse to get at the CIS, maybe. If he'd been involved in the mess of politics that took place in the Mandalore system, then maybe he'd feel differently about the CIS, but he wasn't and so he didn't. So he was happy to be rid of any shabuire who'd taken part in the attack, and had they not retreated he'd have happily continued to engage them.

"I've got the shabuir dead to rights, just one shot and we're done," whispered Saram over the comms. Shuklaar had no doubt that she did. Only he had a feeling that the CDF major that they'd been working with, now easily recognizable as a Mandalorian, had a different idea of what was to happen. It almost looked...personal. That's when her order came in a moment later. 'Order'. Shuklaar treated most 'orders' from friendly forces as instructions to be followed if he was interested in having them as repeat customers, but it certainly helped that he agreed with them in this case.

"Can you tell what they're saying?" he asked Saram in particular, his own audio sensors well out of range, and not able to read Major Vi'Dreya's lips with her helmet on. Saram turned and gave him a look, one that he knew well what it translated to. They had the same gear on. "Shab, I wonder what they're saying...ah to haran with it, no point sitting around here. Might as well go and find out," he declared, quickly checking the temperature of his jump pack and concluding that it had cooled enough to allow him to use it. "You think she called me young? Most mando'ade who haven't met me yet think so."

"This is the youngest you'll ever be again," replied Saram, shrugging ever so slightly, a motion that was mostly lost to posture and armor. Now it was his turn to give her a blank visor glare. He placed down his PPC-01 and was about to turn to instruct Jare'la to stay where he was when she spoke again, "Can you blame her? Most of the old Mando'ade don't really share your viewpoint, and it's not like you have a massive flag saying you're from Breshig above your buy'ce, alor." Saram had a good point, he just nodded. "Just one more thing, don't make me have to tell your aliit that you died fighting Strider Garon," she added.

Shuklaar let out a loud hearty laugh, "Sar'ika, if I die fighting Strider kriffing Garon, don't tell anyone. Just say it was a rocket pack accident or something." With that, he turned and addressed Jare'la, "Alright, Jar'ika, you're staying here with Saram. Watch their backs, and don't come to join me under any circumstances unless I call you, understood?" The droid let out a sad beep in acknowledgement. At least it wasn't stubborn, suicidal and stubborn were a bad combination. With that, he activated his pack and rocketed into the air, carefully flying to ensure he didn't overheat the pack in this ridiculous heat.

He landed in a cloud of sand a short distance from the two. He resisted the urge to draw his sidearm and shoot him immediately, or draw his beskad and attempt to cut his head off. Instead he just stood there, and quickly raised Allya Vi'Dreya on the comms, "This looks personal, but I didn't know if you wanted a second or not, just in case. There a plan?" He was ready for a fight here, but he recognized that he was an outsider to whatever was going on here, and so he just waited to see how things were going to unfold. Either way, he was sure it was going to prove...educational.

Spoiler: Summary

Had a silly conversation with one of the commandos before Shuklaar flew over to join the fight/personally witness whatever happens.

Sorry the post took so long.

 

[Draconis Sederius Wolf]

Location: Capital Bio Dome
Objective: PROTECT THE CIVILIANS!
Allies: Luna Terrik Anakwor Farlorn Rann Thress Ryk Gaelir
???: Thalia Senn
Enemies: Oceiros Sunstrider J'onns Madalena Antares Lash , AoC and Affiliates
Gear:

Spoiler

Confederate Battle Armor (Overlay/Underlay), M-47C, 600 AP and AS rounds, 3 frag grenades, 3 Ion grenades, 3 Concussion grenades, 3 Flashbangs, L-7 service pistol, 60 rounds for L-7, and 3 breaching charges

Theme: We cannot do our best anymore, we must do what is necessary
​

The absolutely massive man atop his tower continued his poses, moving seamlessly like a body builder in some kind of show. Sweet was pouring off of him through the strain, through the building heat, but the man refused to stop, refused any help. He had to continue this to keep inspiring people, to help people whether this storm. To give them a fighting chance to see this through. His muscles would strain, bulge, and flex as he worked through a variety of poses, swapping different muscle groups to keep himself from cramping or locking up. He needed to continue providing his men inspiration. And throughout the dome people would be able to feel it if they were open to the feeling. An internal warmth like a voice was telling them they could do it, giving all strength and encouragement. Like someone was there physically with them and guiding them, letting them know that they could do it, and it would be okay in the end. Soldiers of the SLDF were moving as quickly as they could, moving from bunker to bunker. Men heaved rubble off of collapsed bunkers in teams, people reached in and dragged out the wounded, the weak, and those seeking salvation. Those that could be moved were immediately put onto trucks and on top of tanks and rushed back to the check point near the main gate. And when the Lyleks tried to intercept them, IFVs would simply turn their turrets and their cannons, and cut them down. And those that didn't fall to the M-44, would be struck with Anti-Tank Guided Missiles to finally put them down. The SLDF was no longer pulling punches. They were no longer giving enemies a chance to attack them. If someone didn't clearly surrender or even appeared hostile to them now, it was game on. This was war. And every last man here knew what that was. What it meant to hesitate. To think about failure. To consider what might happen should they falter. They instead focused on their missions, on saving the people. They didn't have a choice otherwise. It was accomplish the mission, or people died. And the latter was unacceptable. Their training had taught them that doing their best now, wasn't enough. They had to do what was necessary. To say their environmental systems in each of their armors was working overtime was an understatement, and yet, none took a break. None of them took the many of water bottles or saline packs intended for civilians to keep them in the best condition they could. The engineers yelled and screamed over the sounds of their drills and hydrospanners as they kept pushing more debris in the way, trying to build a better and better seal.

One of the engineers had an idea and began accessing one of the remaining functioning water mains on the street next to them, using a massive wrench to break its seal. Two ran to help him as the men grunted in exertion on the top seal for the emergency water line. Men heaved with their power armor as they fought to break the seal.

"PUUUUUUULL!" The first one cried "COME ON LADS PUT YOUR BACKS INTO IT! PUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUULLLL!"

Then with a massive creak, the seal broke and the nut holding the top of the water main started coming loose. Much relatively cooler water would burst from the pipe at the main evacuation point, the water spraying into the air with great force and creating a makeshift misting machine. This mist would rain down on the people surrounding them and would cool the surrounding area noticeably. The engineers had bought them more time. They would transmit this to other evacuation points as they desperately fought for each minute bought. Men would collapse, from heat exhaustion or a few even had heat stroke. Their brothers would quickly move them out of the way into a safe area and keep working as the medics dealt with it. This fix wouldn't last them forever but each minute gained from every possible method, was another minute they had to try and slow it down.

And outside of the dome a new problem made itself quite rudely aware. The cease fire above was over. Lash fleet had made it clear they were no longer a neutral party, and targeting information would be relayed to gunnery crews. The Odins' crews engaged the second stage of the stabilization systems, the back legs of the artillery deploying to absorb the literal over a hundred tons of energy that was about to be going through the cannon. The new rounds they pulled out had a plastoid casing surrounding a solid Phrik-A/Tungsten Dart. They would load the dart first and then the charges behind it as the gunnery crews heaved with the strength of men possessed. They'd trained for this. They knew the stakes. The kings of battle were being called upon to defend Ryloth and her people. Gunners received targeting telemetry for their targets, lining up the shots on the picket ships of Lash's fleet. Each system of the 24 gun emplacements, with both barrels being devoted to single targets. These rounds were designed to crack Corvettes and Frigates outside of low orbit, and they were now sighted in on the enemy's defensive line. They would not leave without taking hits, without losses. The fighting men of the Surric Local Defense Forces wouldn't have it. No chance in hell that such a sin would occur unanswered. Gun commanders would wait for all stations to report ready, the loaders, the gunners, the fire control crews. All were set. All gave a signal of absolute readiness. And the man holding the rip cord for the firing mechanism waited for the commander's call. His roar would be all that could be heard as each crew wordlessly worked.

"FIRE!"

​

As one all 48 guns of the SLDF Artillery Support Battalion would roar their answer to the threat in the heavens. 48 Armor Piercing Fin Stabilized Discard Sabot rounds, built to crack smaller ships in a single hit shields and all, would rip through the air, past the Confederate fleet, headed right for the Chiss defensive picket line. Each gun individually targeting a picket ship. And the crews would reload the moment the gun barrels returned to their starting positions, cracking open the breaches and shoving new rounds, and new charges home. They worked as a machine, in less than half a minute having reloaded, and the gunners sighting in their targets once more. And again the call would be heard, the rip cord yanked. The SLDF would not be ignored even if their own fleet wasn't present. For they had brought with them the kings of battle. And the Odin, was the king of kings in the world of artillery.

Spoiler: TLDR

Draconis is still atop his tower at the main evacuation point flexing to access his unknown power in the force to inspire all around him to do their very best. The SLDF is currently deployed throughout the city, attempting to clear the rubble from compromised bunkers, but could still use a lot of help. All of the recovery teams have M-5 Tracked IFVs guarding and providing overwatch, and any lyleks or other would be assailants are now going to be annihilated by their 35mm Auto-cannons or Anti-Tank Guided Missiles. The engineers had hatched a plan to lower the relative temperatures in their local areas by opening water mains to allow the evaporation of the water absorb some of the heat in the dome, buying more time as they continued to work and weld.

Outside the dome, members of the SLDF artillery batteries have received reports that picket ships and the Chiss fleet have engaged the CDF fleet. Not willing to let this go unanswered, all guns pointed skyward, deployed their enhanced recoil systems and loaded up APFSDS rounds. 96 rounds have in total been fired in two salvos at the Chiss picket line, each gun aiming both barrels at their respective targets to increase the chances of not only a hit, but a kill.

 

[Daiya]

Location: Following Srina Talon and her entourage, Capital Dome, Ryloth
Goal: Avoid the distractions of the festival FAILED

Find a way to take advantage of the chaos FAILED​

Protect the duckling entrusted to her by Srina Talon​

Equipment: Phase I Haywire Armor, Raven Knife, Dissuader KD-30 (Loaded with Glitter Bullets), Deactivator Hold-Out Blaster, Vita Stones, View Masker, Interference Box, Holojournal
Tags: Srina Talon | Eira Talon | Asaraa Vaashe
Quack: @Duckie deWinter

[Post Soundtrack: The Chaconne by Dessa]​

Patiently, the exuberant Darkwire youth gazed at her idol, admiring the woman's soft-yet-striking features, the luster of her silver hair, the eyes that left no quarter of the girl unseen. The holos could never have captured so much details. The mere proximity to Srina Talon was nearly enough for her, but with giddy anticipation Daiya held her datapad out to the woman, her beaming eyes hopeful the woman would honor her request.

Ryloth was falling apart, and Daiya had work she was neglecting, but she pressed on regardless. It wasn't every day she got to rub elbows with a living legend, after all. Miss Sun's task could wait a few more moments.

“I do not...do that. I am no one of which you should aspire to.”

She didn't...what? Daiya looked mystified by the Exarch's simple words. The girl stood, bewildered by Srina's mild rebuke as her arms fell to her side to hang limply in defeat. She barely reacted as a short Jawa sidled up, offering something to a creature sitting on the shoulders of the Exarch. A duckling! It gobbled up the offering gladly with a cheery sound, a sound that echoed hollow inside the girl's head.

Was that what she forgot? An offering for Srina's pets? True, Daiya had been outfitted for this mission by some of the best gear she had ever seen, but it was woefully lacking in the animal treats department. The Exarch was an avid animal fan, something she had known, but somehow hadn't realized until this moment how integral it was to approaching the woman. Stupid!

The girl felt the woman's hand on her cheek, and gazed back up into Srina's gaze. She wanted so much to turn away, unwilling to let her shame be on display. A gentle finger stroked across her skin as the woman spoke, kinder words now. Her idol would not acquiesce, she would not get her autograph today. A petty, childish wish, but one that hurt to have dashed nonetheless. She might have cried again, but the distant sounds of conflict were strikingly sobering. Or perhaps the rising heat had simply dried the tears from her eyes already.

Srina Talon offered her a glimmer of hope, however. A request of her own, sealed with a kiss upon her forehead. “We will see you to the evacuation point, however, I would ask that you keep something safe. Take him with you. He always…Finds a way.”

How could she possibly refuse?!

Her charge was the small duckling, plucked from his perch on the Exarch's slender shoulders to sit upon her own now. Daiya gaped at the young anatine for a moment, his oddly-multicolored fuzz standing in stark contrast to the dark padding of her outfit. She had wondered how the creature's long feet had managed on Srina's shoulders, and the girl's were even smaller, her palm would have made more sense. Yet the tiny duckling managed just fine, easily balancing on his new perch as if it was a solid platform. An amazement to add to amazement.

Srina Talon had asked for her help! And entrusted her with the safety of a creature her idol clearly cared for. The girl nodded, setting her jaw. Daiya held this up to the highest importance, even though she was already on Ryloth to perform another task. "I'll keep him safe. I promise."

I also promise never to wash my forehead again, the girl thought, woozy and reeling from Srina's physical affection toward her. She felt herself being led along, wheeled toward the evacuating crowds heading out of the failing dome. She glanced again at the little duckling, still entranced, wishing once more that she had brought some kind of snack suitable for animals.

Or at least, the cute ones.

The terrors that headed their way were gruesome things, all legs and tentacles covered by their ironclad crust. The Exarch shouted commands, giving instructions to the group to fight or flee, but Daiya just stood there. She was frozen in place, her mouth agape, fear flashing across her widened eyes. As the insectoid beasts drew nearer, she could see they were mounted by riders directing them, plowing them into the crowds and citizens of the dome who only wanted to get to safety. Against the horrors, Srina Talon and her cohort stood valiant, but all she could do was nothing.

She couldn't move.

She couldn't speak.

She couldn't think.

She couldn't breathe.

She had known Ryloth was about to become a warzone. The whole point was to take advantage of the chaos, not get caught in the middle of it. She should have turned the other way. She should have taken the chance to get to the Viceroy's Manor when she could. She should have ignored a celebrity.

She should have listened to Tawrro.

A voice inside her, sounding almost like a certain Wookiee's growl, gnawing urgently at the edges of her mind. She could barely make it out, it felt too distant. It grew louder, then louder still, until it was a voice much like her own.

RUN!

Her body didn't need any more prompting than that. Daiya broke into a sprint, dashing off back the way they had come, back towards the last semblance of normal she remembered. A hand came up to nestle the small critter on her shoulder, cupping her fingers together to form a protective wall to keep the little duckling safe from falling off. The rational part of her mind held on to that little tiny piece of purpose while the rest of her was driven by sheer impulse. One that, impossibly, came from beyond herself.

The shriek of the Lylek behind her shook the rational part of her awake again, fueling the desperation of her run. Daiya pushed forward, pumping her legs as fast as they would go. She didn't turn to look, the crashing sounds and thumps from the Lylek's charging legs behind her was enough motivation to keep going. The dome around her was a blur, the motion and heat giving everything almost a fuzzy quality to it.

The girl's mind was a frantic whirlwind of thoughts, each one peeling away as quickly as it appeared. To the left. No, the right. Find somewhere to hide. Find somewhere to fight.

Find the ship!

Daiya steered herself toward the streets that led to the city's spaceport. She had no idea if the Lylek was still behind her, or if her mind was simply imagining the sounds now. All she knew was the effort of putting down one foot, then the other, then...

...she tripped.

The girl went sprawling onto the dusty street, trying to keep the little duckling protected as she went down. Fear and self-preservation drove her to crawl forward on her hands and knees until her knee, too, caught on something. She rolled, pulling out her KD-30 pistol at last, and sending a shot of the glitter-filled bullets back at the object of her fears. One last hope before she came face-to-face with her doom.

Spoiler: OOC Note

Permission from Oceiros Sunstrider to use his Lylek NPCs.

 

[Darth Metus]

D A R K N E S S​

Location: Viceroy's Residence -> Residence Exterior

Tag: Redd , Astrid Skovgaard, Jason Farkas, Darth Miseria, Gerwald Lechner , Madalena Antares , Kyrinov , Hanna , The Bridesmaid + Any Outside

The Earth was Burning.

To say that the Dark Mistress knew him was to utter the understatement of the millennium. The dark creature who had descended into his life had done so with a rocky entrance; yet her gaze was one that saw through the Sith Lord as if he were glass. For all the bumps along the way, from insisting that she not feast upon the worlds to figuring out technologies, Darth Elyria spoke with confidence. For she knew Darth Metus, sometimes better than himself. She looked upon him in the present, yet knew what he could become. Knew the man of tomorrow as intimately as she knew today.

And, as the situation demanded, she would remind him who he was.

In the moment, her entrance into the Viceroy's residence was a display of the might she held. She did not require a vessel or assistance to make manifest her will. When she desired to be, she simply was. So it was that she joined his side. And, so it was that the briefest of introductions were made on the part of the Vicelord. When she spoke, at first, a slight huff of amusement escaped the man's nostrils. Though the world was ablaze, the winter of her words would never cease to make him chuckle. Were the situation any less urgent, he might have made some jest about the placement of his own lightsaber. Or something about how her intelligence remained unchanged despite said extracurriculars.

However, the rumbling under his feet was a stark reminder that they were not within the comforts of the Well. Nor were they in a position to spend time entangled in their usual skirmishes of wit. He did respond to the news regarding the Well's fate. There were enough modern measures that the flames would be dealt with on their own, so the Vicelord was not too concerned about returning to a mountain of rubble. Yet, the auto-chef's refusal of her input meant one thing: "I was led to believe that you wouldn't be bested by an auto-chef, but here we are..."

More rumbles. More reminders that their location was not safe. More reminders that they needed to move now.

The Wolves and the Obsidian worked in tandem to see the Elders ushered out of the room and into the bunker. Yet, when the Sith attempted to guide his "bride", the woman did not budge. Rather, she fingertips graced his cheek. And her words - the words of one who knew him - reached his ears. As her voice graced him, his offhand raised on its own accord. Coming to gingerly rest atop her own. These are not your people. She said, speaking of those wreaking havoc in the streets. She saw right through him. Saw through the hesitation. Were he still a Son of Mandalore, he might have called it Arasuum - Stagnation.

There is no cure, Vicelord, only excision.

It was...hard to take up the sword. On Ryloth of all places. Hard, despite the empassioned words of the Elder before. The Clans themselves had demanded the Agents of Chaos get from here - along with all those who blindly aided in their agenda. Yet, Darth Elyria was right. Those who assaulted their position? Those who shed the blood of their own people? It was difficult to willingly raise a blade against them. Why? It was not because of the mantle of Vicelord upon his shoulders. It was not due to any politically-related ramifications. He cared not how the Galaxy looked upon him.

It was...because Ryloth was Home.

All those years ago, even before he had taken up the name Darth Metus, it was the Southern Systems that had been his refuge. When the call of the Clans was silent, it was these very worlds that he had spent his life defending. When the Clans turned their backs on he and his family, for daring to be born of the Force, it was Ryloth which welcomed him with open arms. It was the among the Twi'lek that he had tutored his first apprentices. It was within their deserts that he first earnestly trained in the Force. More so than even Mandalore itself, Ryloth was home. How could it not be difficult to raise a weapon against them? Though the Darkness was his ally, it did not make him forget those who had been human to him. It did not make him spit upon those who had sheltered him or raised him up.

Yet, as the Dark One spoke, it was evident that even his best could not cure the wrath of those who had been led astray. She was right. There is no cure, there is only excision. A deep sigh fell from his lips and the grasp upon the Force was temporarily lessened. She was right. "I hate it when you're right." came his admission, amidst a slow nod of understanding. As he hand lowered from his cheek, the Sith rolled his shoulders. "We're needed outside." He said, more so addressing his Guard than anything. This time, his footsteps bore him in a different direction.

This time, he knew the Dark One would be at his side as they departed. And as his pace quickened, he noticed that the circumstances were more grave than he had previously imagined. Descent from the upper levels of the residence had introduced the Sith Lord to the freshest waves of heat. The dome was, clearly, unstable - and it was Ryloth's nature that they now raced against. It was a sad irony that this was the site of the assault. This dome, which had allowed the people to rise from the caves and caverns dug by those who came before. This place, which allowed them to live on the surface, rather than the hovels the slavers allowed them to have. This had been a symbol of the Twi'lek people truly taking back their home and determining their fate.

A symbol that they were truly free.

Yet now, the assault had brought damages that the Vicelord could not readily identify. Yet the heat spoke enough volumes. The assault was as irons being returned to their wrists. The assault was as oppression being returned to their lives. The terrorists did not think clearly at all - for what they sought to accomplish would only usher in the same suffering that their ancest- The Sith's eyebrows raised as they neared the exit of the Viceroy's manor. A realization. A seed of direction had been planted firmly in his mind. The thought of the suffering ancestors...coupled with the unmitigated stench of death which now radiated through the Force?

The Sith had an idea. He had his sword. His hands raised and shoved solidly upon the final door, and his sulfuric gaze squinted against the light of day. The signs of battle were evident. And, now that he was outside and on the ground level, he could feel his Apprentice, Srina Talon all the more. For but a moment, his eyes lulled to a close as he shared that seed with her. She would know what he Master planned, long before it grew to fruition. His presence outside the residence drew an immediate response across the encrypted, Confederate channels: Vicelord on the Field.

Yet his focus was not upon the ringing of the comms. Or the stench of death. Or the vicious heat. His paces were ever forward, ever steady, until descent gripped him thus. His hands rested flat upon the pavement, which was now as hot as a summer's day. The discomfort did not bother him, nor did it shatter his focus. And what was it that he sought? Pain. Not the immediate agonies of the innocent being stripped away from the world too quickly. Not the agonies of the injured or the fear of those fleeing. No, there was one far greater - far deeper that he reached for.

Ryloth had known great suffering. For thousands of years, it had been abused by the lash of slavers. Throughout the Four Hundred Years of Darkness, they languished. Before the Darkness, they cried out. For as long as the Galaxy knew of Ryloth's existence, there was always iron about their wrists. Always a whip across their back. They had always been made to entertain others. Always been made to kneel. In the face of hundreds upon hundreds of years of suffering, the decades spent free within the Confederacy were but a small modicum of time.

And such pain? Such agony? That did not disappear after death. No, it lingered upon the bones of the fallen. It seeped into the soil of their discarded bodies. It spilled into the lands and the waters. It was this deep, ancestral pain that the Sith Lord sought. As his palms rested upon the pavement, the Dark Side fell upon him like a mighty tide. A grunt of effort escaped him, as sigils born from his own might were telekinetically cut into the pavement. The sigils directed the flow of power - raising the curtain on the final act.

To Elyria - to she that made him see? His words were simple. She had promised to aid him. He would see that vow followed through. "The pain...help me find it. Fuel it. There is so much." So much for one man to do alone. Yet, together? They could achieve the impossible.
​

 

[Asher Mossa]

​

Location: Raven's Point
Objective: Obey Lylek - Travel to Kyrinov
Gear: Lightsaber | Morrok
Allies: CIS
Enemies: Kyrinov | The Bridesmaid | @anyone else in that crew

Was it a dream?​

​

Asher sat up in his bed, sweat dripping down his brow. The blonde Lupine next to him still fast asleep, her bare back turned to him. They were in the nightlands, it was always dark, and Asher never knew what time was day and what time was night. It was always night. Sleep was different here, and it was rare these days that Asher slept what could be called a normal schedule. He was disoriented, but this was not that.​

​

Lylek was loud. The only shaman to remain among the Mandragora of Ryloth, the only one who still communed with the spirits, had been shown things, visions. They were coming.​

​

"Desecration." ​

​

The voice could not have been any more clear. The vision Asher was given was even more so. He saw her face, her face, the one who had left them Katrine Van-Derveld . Where had she been? Where had she gone? The other left one by one after she had left. The new members who had joined, the spirits did not speak to them. The Mandragora were not what she had left behind. All that remained of what she knew was Asher. If she was coming, if she were here, she was returning for nothing.​

​

Asher closed his eyes as the vision of the altar burned in his mind. The castle was aflame. Raven's Point, and books, tomes, and relics within, was set to blaze. The altar and the castle Asher understood, but who would destroy a library? This was his to guard, not because Lylek willed it, and not because Adron Malvern had gifted it to them. This was his to guard because history demanded it. What were they if they did not keep their records.​

​

"Morrok... ready yourself," he said to the dragon which was his.​

​

If Alvida Osulf wanted to come, she would. If the woman wanted to sleep she would. Regardless he pressed the sense of attack to her mind. While Asher donned his clothing, and took to the skies to find their guests, she would be there to ensure if Raven's Point was found the enemy would be met with claw and fang.​

​

Wings beat, and the air about them created the familiar wind of flight. Whether they were there to destroy or not, Asher would find those whom Lylek warned him about. He would find them, and he would warn them. Perhaps they would not be disuaded, but perhaps they could be convinced to to listen to reason before resorting violence. If violencce is what they wanted, however, then violence is what they would receive. Morrok was no the only creature Asher communed with if it came to it.​

​

They would be wise not to test him.​

​

​

 

[Seraphina Corvinus]

​

CIS: John Locke | Raven Thystle | Kyyrk | Faye Malvern | Visanj T'shkali | Corius Harckon | Daegon Corvinus | Derek Dib
AoC: Alwine Daye | Gabriel Volturi | Annasari | Larentia | Izwi Kutaurira + Others [Sorry if I missed you!!]
Other: Holly Starstorm | Enlil |
Location: Palace, Pristine City, Olanet [Conference Area/Room/Hall]
Wearing: XXX
Weapons: None

The air in the room felt as if it were made of red-hot firebrands that seemed intent on ripping through the delegates as if they were made of glass. The less sensitive or ardently enlightened would call it tension. Seraphina had another word for it. Trauma. Her disposition was unique when it came to the people seated within the room. She had never known blood. She had never known war. She had never known that there were people in the universe that hated the Southern Systems so very, very much, that they would resort to terrorism. That would use the unspoken threat of filling streets with blood, simply, because they did not prefer what the other party had to say.

Seraphina could feel the eyes of the Agents and her head remained bowed to let her betters carry on what felt like a non-existent dialogue. That’s what it was about, was it not? Who was better? Who was moral, right, and just? Who held the high ground? Who could spew venom the longest until either one party or the other became cowed and ran with tails betwixt their legs?

She couldn’t stand up to that. Daegon protected her. Always. Sera had arrived to the Siskeen expecting to speak with a friend over issues that had prompted a difficult decision. There had been no discussion. No talk of reformation. No room for debate, or negotiation. The heart of the topic had been blown away and carried off with the speed and strength of a hurricane. Thus far—The little diathim couldn’t make heads or tails of what was happening.

Only, that it was. Happening.

The Siskeen were actually seceding from the Confederacy of Independent Systems.​

The realization of it stole her breath away. Faith. She had always held faith in the few people that took an investment in her life. Derek had always been open and honest. Listening, quietly, she stubbornly held on to the memories and interactions that would give her strength. She needed that in the face of the vitriol that spilled without sound through the ether. Sera was weak. Unlike the others—she needed hope to survive.

Even if it was a gilded, sweet, and beautiful lie.

The alternative was to think about what was happening on Ryloth. That while she sat quietly, unharmed, innocent people were dying in droves. People died. That was the meaning of life. But this? This was unnatural. The high-definition stream of data from Ryloth kept pulling her thoughts back to a deep, dark place. She couldn’t shake the sight of the deadened Twi’lek eyes that stared lifelessly back through the lens. The faint glow that emanated from her person caused a shimmer across the reflective surface of the conference table. It was cheerful, light, and full of childish delight. Seraphina felt a little resentful.

What right did it have to be joyful when misery was so bountiful?

Daegon spoke again and she tried to mimic the quiet solidarity that Raven Thystle exuded. She was not openly bothered by Ryloth, or, she didn’t show it. The wife of the bacta mogul could barely keep her eyes from welling over every time she breathed. This was not a warzone. This was a meeting of minds. Not swords. How could anyone expect zero response? Zero empathy? How could they not be moved by the sheer destruction? Seraphina could feel the effect that it had on Faye Malvern. She kept close. Minister Malvern was strong, even if, she felt it. Lord Commander Kyyrk took the moment to step away. A weight was lifted from her heart, immeasurably, to know that he would be supporting their people on Ryloth. Silently, Seraphina wished him safe travel. He would have her prayers.

It was @Visanj T’shkali that made one of the final arguments that aimed to rally the Siskeen to the cause. The words were open and honest. Far better than what she had haltingly stuttered out whilst a combination of horror and terror swept through her veins. They were honest. Open. Another woman ( Larentia ) immediately shot down that which the fair-haired Minister of Science had spoken. Again, Seraphina did not understand. The very definition of “free” and “not free” was very simple.

Why was it being used as a tool? Was it for the reaction? The shock? The Siskeen were not enslaved. Ryloth, was not enslaved—Nor was Minister T’shkali. Thyferra certainly was not.

The dichotomy reminded her of a book she had read once, long ago, before Daegon had encouraged her to trade paper for a data pad. ‘One is either free or one is not. The concept of freedom is an absolute. After all, one cannot be moderately dead or moderately loved or moderately free. It was always a matter of either or.’

The Confederacy did not tolerate slavery. The largest form of capital punishment came from trafficking, or, attempted trafficking. To try and sneak that beneath the noses of the Knights Obsidian was a folly. There was no sin, strangely enough, that garnered such severe punishment. Everyone knew that. From one side of the galaxy to the other. To insinuate otherwise… Was a blatant lie.

Or, once again, ill-informed. It was saddening…But ignorance was not a crime.

So deep in thought—The Angel of Thyferra almost missed it. A steady, rhythmic tapping. The rest of the speeches had begun to wind down and Viceroy Dib took the floor again. The tapping went on. His voice reminded her of quiet days on Thyferra. They were still rebuilding from their own sufferings. Every day was a new hurdle, but, they found the time for learning. Derek and Daegon oft played a game with little pieces moving around a black and white checkered board. They would pause, often, to let her try. The rules were many. The last game still sat untouched. Unfinished. Would it ever be completed now?

Today the bonds that bind us in perpetuity with the Confederacy of Independent Systems are destroyed.

Her eyes closed whilst her heart sank.

The game they’d left on Thyferra was trapped in an intense position. Black was to move. Black was up a Bishop with his Queen, flanking, the White King. It was threatening to capture two of the White King’s Rooks. But, the White King had his Knights and Bishop closing in on the Black Queen.

Would the white win with better pieces? Or would black win with an extra army?

Would sharper tongues and hate carry the day?

Or would logic and compassion reign?

Her eyes pulled up from her lap for the first time. Only, to see Derek looking directly at her. At them. His eyes were a shade of crimson she knew well. The expression? Familiar. So familiar, so determined, and even with all that had been spoken—Seraphina found within him the Viceroy that she knew. Tap, tap, tap. Pause. Tap, tap, tap. Chocolate eyes softened immeasurably when Viceroy Dib announced that Siskeen Fleets would be aiding the invasion of Ryloth. Her throat was tight.

She could feel the temper of Daegon Corvinus on the rise. It wasn’t the Siskeen pulling away. It was the manner of which it was done. Sera brought her left hand up and it crossed over her body, pressing her into his side, so that it could rest over his heart. Silent words passed between them.

Daegon did not understand. The Confederate delegates did not understand. Exarch John Locke graciously accepted the words spoken and Seraphina could feel the political mask sliding over his features. That was why she avoided the Exarchs at all costs. They had a weight to them, a severity, that she could never match. Even as he relayed the situation on Ryloth—As if it were business as usual—He seemed less and less human. His gaze was troubled for a million reasons. Only some, could she fathom. Exarch Locke did not understand either.

None of them did.

They would.​

“Thank you, Viceroy Dib. Ryloth will remember your kindness…”, she spoke up softly, barely more than a whisper. Tap, tap, tap. Drum. Her ears were honed and focused on the soft strikes that should have easily been dismissed as ambient sound. The sweet, delicate angel, did not dare speak for her husband. Seraphina spoke with him. These were the words that existed in both their hearts. Even if, he knew not how to say it. “My husband and I will continue to support the Siskeen. You have our word.”

​

Spoiler: OOC

If I missed anyone or something I should not have please let me know and I will edit.

​

 

[Toph Graystone]

Actual Face | Holographic Avatar
Actual Voice | Avatar's Voice​

Location: Ryloth, Capital Embassy Hotel
Objective: You can't stop the Signal
Holt | Ciri Jade | Madalena Antares | Daiya | Ripley Kühn

Having finished everything she could to prevent someone ending her connection to the EBS Toph was sitting in front of her monitor, crunching on the pickle and scanning through the few systems she'd gained access to when she back traced the connection the intruder had used on her. Most of the good stuff, government controlled systems, were still hidden behind the firewall. But it would not be long until that came down too. She just needed to have patience. As she was considering her options a new alert came across her secondary monitor, It was a transmission from the fleets above. She watched the video feed briefly before deciding on adding it to her current transmission. It would help in that objective of discrediting the Confederates.

Kaine cleared his throat and began narrating the recording.

::We came in peace to Ryloth. A malfunction in our experimental reactor threatened to destroy our ship.::

::Without warning, provocation, or even opening communications, the Confederacy of Independent Systems opened fire on our ship.::

The holofootage of the Aegis beginning her attack flowed through the display.

::Further Confederate forces assaulted our ship, despite our restraint in holding fire in the hope of mercy. We managed to jettison the reactor in time, however fire from the enemy fleet caused an explosion that has crippled our ship.::

The unobstructed view from the stern holocams on Golden Lance shows the Confederate fleet coming out of hyperspace and beginning a massive firestorm at the Golden Lance's stern.

The fire strikes the floating Daedalus Cannon and detonates, even as the Aegis and the Golden Lance are consumed in the explosion.

::Thanks to the blood-crazed space vampire in command of the Confederate Navy, we are now falling towards Ryloth out of control. Their fleet continues to fire on our defenseless ship, and now puts your planet at risk for their revenge.::

Toph didn't know how much of that was truth, though it had recordings to back up the statements. Regardless it stank of abuse of power and an overly militarized response to any situation. She hated them for it. Moving the file into the feed she attached it to the end of her current repeating message. After making her her encryptions of the EBS and access ports were still strong Toph sent the new file to @Ripley and posted it in her darknet window. For their part the various lowlifes and slicers that populated the secure message board were already up in arms. The original message had been downloaded millions of times already and groups were discussing strategy as they began to make their initial probes of the Ryloth Network. Soon the attack would start and what passed as Confederate network security would become overwhelmed.

A new alert drew Toph's attention. At first she wasn't sure what she was looking at as nodes on her botnet began to go down. Was the oncoming firestorm effecting the festival goers' devices? Was the CIS finally shutting down all communications? No, it couldn't be either of those things. The firestorm would effect her as well, the same goes for blocking communications. As the nodes began to go down at an accelerated rate the truth had dawned on her. The Confederates had actually introduced a virus into their own network. It was the sort of thing she'd only heard about but had never seen in person. She was almost fascinated by it, but the reality that it was attacking the botnet because of her own hacks was enough to kick her into motion. Toph figured that she had about three minutes before they found the real connection.

Diving for her bag Toph started to dump the contents on the table. She had just the thing to stop this. Only a month ago Toph had gotten her hands on an experimental military grade anti-virus. It would be close, but if the slicer could get it installed she would be able to stop the virus before it reached her connection and cut her off. Only she couldn't find the data chip with the program on it. Panic set in as she frantically searched for the small device. It was no where to be found. To much time was lapsing. Toph peeked over the table to check on the progress, letting out a soft shriek as she saw it accelerating. No time...no time...where are you. Another look and the last node on the botnet went down. Time is up. She reached for the cord and pulled. Her entire set up powered down from the sudden loss of power.

She had just done what the CIS tried to do to her. The question is did the virus had the capabilities to log the location of each connection terminated. Did they log her location before her abrupt disconnect. It was a chance she couldn't take. Jumping into action Toph began to gather her things, throwing only the mobile and essential items into her bag. She frantically worked while keeping an ear out for anyone coming for her. Lastly she grabbed the cane, collapsing it and tossing it into the bag.

She couldn't leave all this stuff lying around the room. It would be easy to trace her with it. Not to mention her finger prints and DNA were all over the room. Pulling a second, full bag out from under the bed Toph removed a large device. It was a phospherous charge. One strong enough to atomize the entire room. She set it up just under the table and set a timer for three minutes. It would give her enough time to get out before the room became an inferno. But all the people in the hotel. She needed to get them out.

Toph lifted both bags over her shoulder. Tapping both cybernetic eyes they changed from the cloudy look you would expect from a blind girl to a rich brown. For disguises, this wasn't the best. But no one really new what to look for. She opened the door and sprinted down the hall, stopping only when she came across a fire alarm. Pulling it the entire hotel immediately came alive with a klaxxon and red strobbing lights. Yet no one came bursting out of their rooms. Toph ran back down the hall before knocking frantically at a door. The girl ran back up knocking on each door and yelling "FIRE" as she went. When she reached the other end Toph turn to find only the patrons leaning out their rooms watching on like she was crazy.

The door to Toph's room on the far end of the hall burst open as bluish-green fire belched out. Everyone started to run in a panic for the nearest exit, weaving around Toph as she just stood there. "Why run now? I am sure the fire will just tickle. No need to listen to the little girl that was just running around screaming Fire!"

Once the hall was clear Toph turned with a sigh and walked down the stairs. Instead of taking the door at the bottom that lead to the entry of the hotel Toph turned down a corridor, following its winding path before finding herself in the backside of the hotel. She calmly looked around until she found the security office. If was empty, no doubt the low paid guards running at the fire alarm. Taking the seat in front of the banks of security feeds Toph pulled a data chip from her pocket and inserted it into the console. It had a small label on it that simply said Cloud Buster. It contained a virus she'd coded herself. It would access the cloud storage used for storing security feeds and destroy everything, covering up any evidence that she was here. Happy that it was doing its job Toph reached into the bomb bag and pulled out a smaller phospherous grenade. Priming the trigger the slicer walked out of the room and tossed it in behind her. The explosion was sure to destroy any hard copies saved on the console.

A few minutes later she was exiting out a back door into an ally. Sweat immediately began to form on her face from the heat building up in the dome. Whipping it away Toph made her way through the side streets of the city. She found it easy to blend in with the crowds still trying to evacuate. Though instead of heading for a shelter Toph was heading deeper into the city. A small map showed that she had only been a few blocks from her target, the Administrative building for the Dock Master. It wasn't hard to find. Peering into the glass front doors she could see that it was empty. Toph snuck around to the back side of the building, letting her force sight guide her. The back door appeared to only have a simple silent alarm set to notify law enforcement. She followed the glowing lines of current until she found the innocous control box. Opening it up Toph rolled up her left sleeve to access to small tool kit strapped to her forearm. Cutting a few wires and shorting out a capacitor let her disable the entire alarm system. It took her a few more minutes to pick the lock as this one she was doing by touch, but finally the back door swung open.

Inside Toph made her way to the dock master's office where inside was one of the terminals on the security network she'd gave herself access to. If all went well she would be finished and on her way off this planet soon. Dropping her bag at her feet Toph opened a side pocket and pulled out a case she'd labeled "Nuclear Arsenal". Opening it she rummaged through the data chips, finding one familiar one with an annoyed sigh. It was the anti-virus she'd been looking for. Tossing it back in the case Toph extracted another labeled "BIG BERTHA". On it was a particularly nasty virus. It would silently spread through out any device networked to the host device. It would remain inactive and undetectable until a predetermined host capacity, then it would go off, destroying entire security frameworks. Between this and the outside brute force attack the firewall used to protect Ryloth's network should come crashing down. Once that was done she could access her main goal.

Though while she waited until that happened Toph began to enact her second goal, getting Darkwire a lot of credits. She accessed the dock masters list of current shipments ready for departure. As a result of the chaos that had befallen the city she knew these shipments would not have actually departed. Finally she found just the perfect one. A shipment of Ryll with an estimated value of ten million credits. Keying out an encrypted comlink Toph spoke into it. "Hey Daiya. I hope you haven't gotten swept up in the festival. I found the mark. Hanger bay A87, Shipping desrict. I'm opening the doors for you. Get there now and I should be there shortly."

Spoiler: OOC Info

I waited long enough. I will be going to bed soon, so decided to push the post through.

 

[Muad Dib]

Location: elsewhere
Load out: account details
Objective: to release Chaos

There was something about recycled air that lent it a medicinal flavor. And slightly metallic. Very few noticed a difference and yet there it was. Undeniable. Unnatural. The scent that rode upon the air current was thoroughly scrubbed, however, it still tasted recycled. The man grinned as he looked to the dispersed group travelling in the same general direction as he. A pilgrimage of sorts to a place akin to an oasis in the desert. The fabled mirage of central importance. It would certainly be a day to remember. Two of the crowd bypassed him taking the lead of the ragamuffin group of nonchalant visitors.

He paused well before the entrance and flipped a deathstick between his lips before stowing the pack once again in one of the pockets festooned in his black pants. The end flared to life, the ember hissing with indrawn breath. A sighing exhale released a plume of blue smoke. Glowing blue eyes narrowed as he leaped atop one of the benches on the exterior. The sleeves were rolled up his forearms revealing the gauntlets worn. He felt a bit naked without his second skin, his beskar'gam, yet it was the price he paid for fitting in.

Ash was flicked from the deathstick as two of the group tossed holocams into the air to hover on miniature antigravity repulsors. His blue eyes watched a few others climbing the exterior, making use of the foliage. The small group here was just a part of the force that he arrived with. The others were working on choke points, areas sensitive to disruption, and locations of import. Shrugging his shoulder to loosen the muscles in his neck, the man leapt down at the nod of the tech specialist who motioned at the holocams with a thumbs up.

"Showtime. Ladies and gentlemen. Binary droids and undecided hutts. Welcome to the newest reality show being broadcast straight from me into your homes, should the networks pick up this transmission. Which they most definitely should or else I must come visit them. Any who, today's broadcast is hosted by yours truly, the one and only Muad Dib. Also known as Pyro the Innocent, Paragon of Virtue, Breaker of Knickers, First of his name. Today we are live for your viewing pleasure. And disclaimer … if you have a weak stomach then you may wish to look away. Or flashing lights. Or other forms of wonderful debauchery."

Grinning he skipped forward and did a cartwheel as the holocams floated behind, not missing any of the action. Flicking the half smoked deathstick away he rubbed his hands together and motioned the holocams closure as though a secret was about to be shared.

"First a word from our sponsors. Feeling like you lost the pep in your step? Need a new magazine to slap in your old carbine? Wanna get back into pod racing? Then look no further then 'Metus Cream'. Just one ounce of moisturizing can give you that boost you needed to kick into overdrive. With Metus Cream you can shave off a few parsecs from your travel getting you where you wanna be even faster. Side effects may include itching, swelling, difficulty breathing, accidental self impregnation, and hives. Just remember, use Metus Cream responsibly."

Stretching he turned and looked at the cameras.

"First rule of any engagement is to stretch. You don't wanna pull a groin muscle. Very unpleasant. One more sponsor before we return to our regularly scheduled program. Ever get tired of those Jedi with their long robes and flashy lightsabers taking your girl? Then you need the latest hits from music artists all collected on one disc. Hit singles like "Friends in low Places" by Darth Brooks, Jon Bon Jawa with "Wanted Dead or Alive", "Sithlies, Tramps, and Thieves" by Ewok sensation Cher-Yub-Yub, the A.I. band Metallica with "Droids cause, Nothing Else Matters, and Dark Lady Gag Uhhhh performing "Paddypoke Bad Romance" just to name a few. So call in your requests before we sell our!"

Smirking he nodded to the Troopers near him. It was almost time according to the timer.

 

[J'onns]

Location: Approaching the Capital Dome, Ryloth outskirts,
Tag: Luna Terrik | Sergei "Jack" Jachovich | Ryk Gaelir | Sabine Delacroix | Adron Malvern - IDK who else.
Engaged by: Draconis Sederius Wolf
Objective: Contact Shuulk, stop shuulk, survive, fall....
Equipment: Relby-v10 Rifle, .48 Caliber Pistol, Glop grenades, Special grenades, Mining shield

x1 Drexl [Mounted]
x75 Blurrgs Riders /w Spraysticks and mining shields
x60 Rycrits Riders/w Spraysticks and mining shields

The constant breeze made J'onns visage flustered. Leading the charge from the air he glanced down at his men and considered what could happen. Was Thalia Senn right after all? Were we in over our heads and disillusioned? Flying through the country side J'onns could feel a pressure in his chest. With each passing moment it grew. It felt wrong to approach.

He had conviction. Not just for himself but his brothers and sisters that followed him into incoming battle. A battle that would not come. Not under his command. " Stop! Halt!" The twi'lek shouted into his comm and steered his drexl to stalk the skies in a circle to ensure everyone followed his command. Meanwhile the pressure that gripped him grew even more. SO much was going on. The sounds of distant and near gun fire. Cannons, blasters and explosions. He could feel the surge of electrical energy through the force nearby. There were artillery units and thus far they had not fired.

So he thought. Over stimulation clouded his senses. He could not discern the pulsating electrical currents that had fired off only seconds ago.

Over come with emotion and the guilt of not wanting to let his men down he ordered his drexl to hover and spoke. " Oceiros Sunstrider this is wrong! Jan is right. Our goal should be our people and helping their evac now!" He stated and began the a new podcast from outside the dome. Angling the camera toward the incoming CIS gunships that were sent J'onns threw his weapons to the ground and forced his will to hail the ships through the force directly. His armored riders did the same in agreeance to their true cause. Some kept their weapons by their side though, they were the wiser. Save Ryloth. " Incoming CIS Gunships this is J'onn. I am the one in charge. We are here to escort our people and pick up our families we will not..." He hesitated as the pressure in his chest gripped his very heart. Only moments before it occurred he felt the deaths of his men below before a single shell dropped.

A blood stained earth.

A wave of artillery that had previously been shot had finally come. " HOLD YOUR FIRE. What?! NO!" Reeling back J'onns let his Drexl pull back ascending into the skies far above. His grip on his comm and podcast system threatened the integrity of the object he held. Explosions. Dirt, grass and ryloth itself had become loosed from the shock waves and sheer heat of the explosions that had slammed down apon the riders.

The land was now charred. Stained with blood of twi'lek, blurrg and rycrits alike. J'onns was all that remained. "WHAT THE KARK ARE YOU DOING?!!! We-we...We were-" His words were irradiate as he forced his will to transfer communications into the gunships. They had already fired missiles and their laser cannons apon him. His mind fell into despair.

Why did they fire? Why did they fire? Why? Why? Why?!! His thoughts bid the force to obey his commands but under soo much strain and stress it gave no quarter. It did not budge. " Sh..shu...shuulk." He uttered lowly. Gripping the Drexl tight as its mass twisted and turned toward the stars above. Missiles creeping close behind. A shriek erupted within the heavens and fire lashed out against the tail end of the beast. The pain reeling toward the head in a wave and bucking J'onns into free flight. The beast fell in a twirl from heavens to toward the earth below with a crash. An impact that seemed to cause nature to fissure. As for J'onns the twi'lek, his frantic motions hundreds of feet in the air became him. A shadow loomed over him within his minds eye. The only thing he could think of was survival now. Gasps of air escaped him as the wind smothered his body in his descent.

Thud

A soft thud in comparison to the beast he rode. Orange fingers dived into the now crimson colored dirt briefly. A finally breath was exhaled like a tremor and ryloth became him. A second thud emitted even softer adjacent from the body. His body. It was the podcast device. Capturing the scene of a misshapen twi'lek man, laying in what remained of himself as CIS gunships flew away.

Justice.

 

[Strider Garon]

LOCATION: Outside Dome City
OBJECTIVE: Teach two pups what it means to be mando
UNIT: Winged Hussars (6000)
WEARING: Beskar'gam | Jetpack
WIELDING: Power Lance | RSKF-44 Heavy Blaster Pistol | EE-3 Carbine Rifle | Crushgaunts | Mandalorian Vambraces | Hussar Saber (Beskar)
ALLIES: Agents of Chaos, The Siskeen Coalition, Twi'lek Freedom Fighters
ENEMIES: The Confederacy of Independent Systems
TAGS: Allya Vi'Dreya Shuklaar Kyrdol

Strider stood stoically while against the plume of dust that had been kicked up by the female mandalorian's jetpack upon landing. His blaster pistol was still in hand, barrel pointed to the ground with a recently deceased horse beside him. He slightly looked over his left shoulder to see his Hussars making good ground towards their ship, while the girl before him wasted no time in giving him the double barrel of spite and opinion. Nothing like having a pup bark at you. It was cute and adorable, he mused while turning his head back so his T-visor and jaig eyes could stare directly at Allya. He quietly studied the girl as she continued her rant, his eyes not missing the grip she had on her lightsaber nor did they miss the other Mandalorian landing a few meters away. If his helmet was not on, the two would have seen that he was not impressed, even past his stone cold scarred facial expression. The younger generations of mandalorians were getting soft, weaker as time went on. Was no wonder why the mandos were destroyed and their people annihilated off Manda'yaim. When fighting from inside, victory cannot be had on the outside.

Strider slowly bladed himself defensively towards Allya, his left shoulder facing forward and his pistol still gripped and hovering off his right thigh. Ultimatums were finally given to the old man. He had choices. Three to be exact, all at the behest of Allya, her partner who he did not recognize and the rest of the damned CIS. This was war. Yesterday Strider and Allya were allies in a political ring, today they were enemies on opposite sides of a conflict. This was not personal for Strider. He had beneficial reasons to be here, pay was good and support from the agents down the road would go well in future campaigns. He wasn't going to lie, it did tickle his fancy to poke at CIS. They were partly to be blamed for the downfall of Mandalore and the genocide that occurred. The Sith Empire, The Silver Jedi Order and the Confederacy all played a role in the extermination and Strider would have his desire of revenge satisfied. But that was a complex blame game for the mandos themselves would have to take the lion's share of the fault.

The grizzled old veteran took a slow breath in and releasing it. Calming himself, steadying his nerves as he contemplated his choices. Allya has ambition to one day hold the mantle over the mandalorians, but today, Strider could not see any evidence on why she should ever hold it. Emotional, tantrumatic with misplaced anger seething from her vocals and weak. She was allowing her enemy to escape in mass and to top it all off, she was showing that she had no want to kill him. Mandalorians were once a feared force to be reckoned with. There was no soldier or warrior that could measure up. They were of honor and moral but at the same time could utilize their primordial instincts to kill without feeling, without passion or........ judgement. Especially Judgement. Because judgement defeats us all and Allya was brittle with judgement. She should of killed him or at the very least had that pup with her finish him off from the perch he came from. He had no doubt that Shuklaar Kyrdol had crosshairs on him and itched heavily to pull the trigger before flying over.

Instead, she drew in close with her counterpart which would negate the long range barrage for the droid army in the distance. Strider could hear his ship taking off in the distance. She had let his Hussars go free and now it was just him and Them. The one major advantage he had over them. The legendary warrior was not afraid of death. Strider welcomed it! With that, with no words given in response, he raised his blaster pistol to bare upon Shuklaar, pulling the trigger as fast as he could to rain death upon the younger male. For Allya, Strider raised his left hand and unleashed a inferno of flame in hopes of incinerating her. His choice was plain and simple..........

Summary:

• Hussars escaping aboard their ship
• Lots of inner thoughts, foreshadowing
• Strider attacks both Allya and Shuklaar. Does not say a word to them. Has used his wrist flamethrower on Allya and in tandem shooting at Shuklaar with his blaster pistol.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

LOCATION: Viceroy's Mansion
OBJECTIVE: Defend Metus and Elyria
EQUIPMENT: Morph Armor, Lightsaber
CIS: Darth Metus | Redd | Astrid Skovgaard | Jason Farkas | Darth Elyria | Shalita Verd
AoC: Madalena Antares

Cold. ​

Pain.​

Death. ​

Steel blue eyes continued to bore their way into the presence that was Darth Elyria . Something about her had shifted the atmosphere in the room, but more than that. His wolf, the predator inside him, that which feared nothing was still. ​

​

It was AFRAID. ​

​

The fragrance of jasmine and rain was simply a cover. It hid the ilk which spilled from her heart with every passing beat. ​

​

She was darkness in physical form.​

​

She was death.​

​

Gerwald had to look away. There was still much to do. Explosions rattled the foundation of everything they stood on. With each passing moment heat was leaking into the bio-dome, and the lupine was beginning to feel it rise. His brow was wet with sweat, and the armor was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Soon it would even be too much for his wolf. Shifting was not an option now, not to escape the heat. ​

​

CRAAAAAAAAAACK​

​

His eyes shot to the other two wolves, Redd and Astrid Skovgaard, he knew they would have heard it too. The fissures they had felt had done more than just crack the foundation itself. The dome was beginning to break. It was small. The human ear would not hear the subtle differences, but Gerwald knew. His sensitive hearing could distinguish the sounds that rushed through. ​

​

“The bunkers will no longer be safe,” he pressed into the minds of the females. They needed to pivot. Escape was their only hope. “Take them to the evacuation sites. And watch out for the Lyleks.”​

​

Gerwald did not want to voice anymore concerns even if he had them. His heart sank, knowing it was orders as the one he had given which often saw warriors perish. The wolf could no longer protect everyone. This was not going to be realistic. His eyes closed as he did something the Stewjonian had not done in a long time. ​

​

He prayed.​

​

It was a simple prayer, a small token offered for the lives that would be lost in battle. The gods of Stewjon were nothing but a myth, Gerwald understood that now, but something in the moment made him seek the solace it had once provided. ​

​

A wrinkled green hand laid itself on his arm. The simple act caused Gerwald to pause for a moment as he looked down on the female. A small smile crossed her lips as the dark orbs in her face gave the wolf a knowing look.​

​

“You have done well, and you will do well, young one. Not all of us will survive today, but at least if we die, we die free.”​

​

Gerwald nodded as he motioned for the woman to move with the others.​

​

“They will keep you safe, and if they cannot, then they will see you to the afterlife should anything threaten your journey.”​

​

This was not the exchange he had hoped to have, but something happened in that moment. ​

​

Gerwald found peace. ​

​

He finally understood what it was that had caused Naedira Darcrath to lay down her own life. Oh, there would be many that would die today. The wolf could taste the blood in the atmosphere even now. Gerwald might even be among them. If he were, then he would die with a smile on his face as he laughed at those would dare claim his life.​

​

There was one other task. Jason Farkas. He was young, new, and his life could not be tied to Gerwald’s now. The longer Elyria remained the more Darth Metus changed. Something was about to happen, something was about to shift. Gerwald did not know what, but he knew his duty. ​

​

Protect the Vicelord at all costs.​

​

Gerwald looked to Shalita Verd . He had one simple request.​

​

“Get this boy back to Geonosis. Do not stop to help anyone. Evacuate and keep him safe. He is the future. We must protect the future.”​

​

Would she understand? Gerwald was not sure, but she didn’t have to. Today the only thing she needed to do was simply follow through. Not every life had to be forfeit today.​

​

It had only been moments, but it seemed like an eternity. The exchange between Metus and Elyria continued. Their combined presence began to overwhelm the wolf in a way he had not been in sometime. He knew this feeling. Gerwald understood the darkness that passed between them. The lupine had faced it before, but together it was stronger, more tangible. This was the same ichor which tainted Darth Prazutis . It was a guarantee that whatever was about to take place, it would ensure that carnage would reign.​

​

Metus moved outdoors. Gerwald followed. He was loyal. This was his duty.​

​

The heat was overpowering. Atmospheric controls had failed, and as the heat from the storm seeped in through the holes and cracks the certainty of the storm's path was made sure. It was headed right for them. With each step Gerwald could feel it. The memories of his torture at the hand of the mountain came back to him. Gerwald knew what it was like to be burned. He knew the pain. His mind was ready. Gerwald did not know what Darth Metus had planned, but that did not matter, not now. If Metus could put a stop to all of this, then Gerwald would play his part. No one would attack them. ​

​

A silent message was sent to Srina Talon . Gerwald owed her his life, and today he would repay that debt.​

​

“I will keep watch.”​

​

It was cryptic, but he knew of the bond she shared with Metus. The echani already knew more of what Metus had planned than Gerwald did. He could only hope his words would be a small encouragement.​

​

“Today, I will repay.”​

 

[OOM-001-JELLYBEAN]

Location: Ryloth [Capital Bio-Dome] || [Inside To Outside] Confederate Defense Force Garage
Weapon: E-5 Blaster Rifle
Enemies: Oceiros Sunstrider | J'onns | Thalia Senn | Madalena Antares & AoC Allies
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
The B1's That Came To Party: OOM-002-HONEYCOMB , OOM-003-CUPCAKE , OOM-004-DONUT , OOM-016-ASTRO , Moe Uilor , OOM-011-MARSHMALLOW , OOM-009-KITKAT, 00M-042-OREO , OOM-314-PIE

​

The initial plan was simple. Sorta.

Grand Marshal Luna Terrik was depending on the sharpshooter skills of JELLY and its unit of merry droids to save the day. It was the day they had all been waiting for. A chance. A way to prove that they were not obsolete models with mediocre upgrades. Even while cowering down in the dirt to avoid taking a blaster shot to the dome—JELLY was totally ready for this mission. It seemed that the higher-ups had made note of the warning the battle droid gave, but, it was one problem in a long list of them.

Red tape, red tape, and more red tape.

No one could know the true horror of TWI’LEKS on LYLEKS. Oh, my.

“Oh, my.”, JELLY repeated, muttering, while the female-oriented vocabulator seemed to stutter. Eventually, the ground stopped shaking. The B1 managed to straighten up and its head swiveled back and forth a few times. The number of riders had dwindled but the droid turned just in time to see a late, late, late member of its unit arrive. “OOM-314-PIE YOU ARE IN SO MUCH—”

The sentence would never be finished as PIE heroically stupidly tossed itself into the fray. JELLY averted its photoreceptors while PIE was subsequently turned to scrap. The colorful B1 sighed heavily before it glanced at the others, shaking a weapon, to encourage them to follow along. HONEYCOMB grabbed both JELLY and CUPCAKE to pull them out but they couldn’t go far because the Twi’lek on Lylek parade had been stopped at the mouth of the tunnel. There was shouting, shooting, and all manner of badness. More of them came, forcing their way up the tunnel, but Anakwor Farlorn and his men really gave the enemy no quarter. This breach was bad. Demotion-worthy bad. Maybe the Colonel wouldn’t tell the higher-ups? “C’mon. We need out of this tunnel. We need explosives, or permacrete, or something we can use to plug these holes.”

PIE would be back soon. Creeping through the bodies, step by step, the B1 cringed. Fluid all over. Organics were so disgusting. Ryk Gaelir had moved along with the 701st, likely in response to another tunnel being opened but it was clear that Colonel Farlorn had done his duty. The determined B1 grumbled the whole way. They had to be careful. Sometimes shooting, sometimes, hiding along the wall. Half the team was MIA and they were no closer to figuring out how to close the tunnel beneath the CDF Garage. Moreover, the heat was rising, and JELLY started to wonder exactly how hot their internal systems could push it before they reached critical mass. “You could fry an egg on my chassis…Phew. What are these flesh-bags doing?”

OOM-011-MARSHMALLOW came running over and JELLY shook its head. “Too late. PIE already died and the enemy escaped on Insects of War.”, the stuffy general in the OOM responded. It was at a loss, but, they had a job to do. Catching sight of 00M-042-OREO , a fellow OOM unit, if no one could see the resemblance, JELLY nodded it over. “We got a mission from the Grand Marshal.”

On the way out of the tunnel it seemed that OOM-002-HONEYCOMB had fallen to his worst weakness. Pretty, organics. Why did that faulty programming exist? One second the Casanova was there and the next? Just blown away. JELLY could imagine exactly how HONEY had died. Actually, they didn’t need to. The data of the termination was stored and uploaded. All JELLY had to do was download it.

“Shot through the heart… and you’re to blame.”

“…Oh, kark. RIP. What did we tell you about women? Nothing but trouble.”

Why did one of JELLY’s unit have to fall for a pretty pair of lekku? WHY?

Slowly—Jelly gathered up the rest of the unit. OOM-003-CUPCAKE had made it out of the with most of their bolts intact. “Honest Moe! I am in need of service!”, the B1 called for their new mechanic ( Moe Uilor ) while they tried to take stock of the damage. Any units that had stayed outside of the tunnel had been torn up, put down, with blaster bolt holes still smoking. Not good. Noooot good at all. “B1…We lost this battle. But, we won’t lose the war!”

A few of the B1’s had also been put out of commission due to friendly fire. Not intentionally, certainly, but the Men of Caria had been forced to open fire when the Lyleks on Twi’leks rolled out. By the time the OOM’s made it out…The area was a mess. Totally, and completely. JELLY looked from one side to the other. “Uh…Colonel @Anakwor Farlorn…I uh…We think you got them—”

Well—They had got most of the insurgents that moved by foot. Those that were riding the Lylek? That was another story. Right about then the ground began to shake. Another explosion wracked the Capital Dome. This one was bigger than the rest and JELLY could only wave it’s one working arm in the air. “The seismic readings are off the charts!”, it commented, seemingly shocked, before looking for @OOM-001-Donut. If anyone would know about the dangers of this? Donut would. “…Can we even use explosives to close the tunnel now?”

In the meantime, they could be of some use. “OOM-009-KITKAT!”

“Attention. You will aid Colonel Farlorn and his men. The Lylek looks exceedingly hungry and it isn’t alone. OOM-016-ASTRO , I need you to make a distraction—”, no sooner had JELLY gotten the words out than a blaster shot rang out and struck ASTRO in the head. The quiet droid was sent tumbling to the dirt only part of a second later. JELLY paused. Sighed.

“Kark.”​

Spoiler: Actions

• Hid w/B1 Units in the Tunnel
• Made way out of Tunnel - Pretty gross.
• Arm Still hurt - Moe, halp!
• Orders from Luna Terrik may be impossible now. More explosions created the big ole fissure that is ruining life. The heat storm is still there and the Dome is failing.
• Wants to help Colonel Farlorn take out the rest of the enemies, but, ASTRO is killed the last second. [Ok per his writer]

 

[Darth Elyria]

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

_________________________________
​

“It did not best me, Vicelord. I am whole—It is not.”

The stark words that were issued firmly from between crimson lips left no room for argument. She wished nothing more than for the sun to set on this day. Impossible, considering. Even still. Elyria craved the dark. The cool kiss of night. The earth beneath them was unsteady. Grinding. The sky above was full of flashes of light. A battle of monolithic vessels and ego.

Everyone seemed to think they knew what was right. Mortal hubris.

Weightless footsteps pulled her from the crumbling abode of the Viceroy of Ryloth.

Once—The paint had been pristine. New. The Capitol Dome wasn’t that old. Black eyes could see that the sheer heat that rolled through from the outside was making it warp and curl. Elyria reached up and pulled the black lace covering from her shoulders and let the endlessly soft material flutter to the ground. Her form was left wrapped in a sleeveless shift that seemed to ripple when a slow gait took her where she needed to be. The material clung to her form like a second skin, revealing a curving form, and skin that was almost too pale.

Bare feet padded over debris and broken glass without thought.

It was interesting, hypothetically speaking, if one looked at it as a social experiment. The majority of the bloodshed stemmed from those that seemed to think that the governing nation had, somehow, besmirched their freedoms. They claimed to defend their culture. Their way of life. Elyria could not help but internally scoff. People were the way. If they wanted to fight for the right to live like savages in dilapidated cave systems—By all means, let them. It was such a strange thing to fight for.

To spill blood for.​

The raven-haired woman flowed down the stone steps as a river did run downstream. A thin wisp of smoke moved when she did, chasing her shadow, leaving an overpowering scent of jasmine and rain in her wake. It was cloying. Hard to breathe through. The preparation inside the hovel did not concern her. Stay or go. Remain, or flee. Elyria held no opinion. She knew Darth Metus would come.

Why? Not because she was right. He would come because in the deepest parts of his being; he knew the truth. The longer he delayed the inevitable out of sentiment and a foolish dreaming the more his true people suffered. Those who toiled away, day after day, carving out a better living than their ancestors had before them. Those who looked toward the nation he had created for direction. Protection. Responsibility would drive him, in the end. Duty. For that? He would stand at her side amidst any inferno.

Elyria noted that Darth Metus was not alone. His Wolves, his Guard, and a few Obsidian seemed determined to follow through with their calling. Gerwald Lechner spent too much of his time praying. Whom was he sending his thoughts to? Did he not realize the truth? <<There will be no miracles this day. Your psalms ring to the great emptiness, a whisper, among endless thoughts and misbegotten wishes. Stand tall. Find solidity in yourself. In nothing, but yourself. >>

He would be startled to hear her voice in his mind. Immediately, she peeled away. He would feel that too. Loss. Power that was endlessly deep, vast as the ocean, and without end. Elyria moved with the Vicelord once he passed the final set of doors. She could feel the Dark Side stir within him like a large beast that had slowly begun to awaken. He reached for his white rabbit. She reached—Through him. Her vision expanded as she followed the Force Bond that lay between Master and Apprentice. Strong.

“Your people have beat them back, Vicelord. Reach through the Force. Make it your eyes. Your hands. Your will. It is time to bring this insurgency to a heel.”

Elyria circled the former Mandalorian whilst his form dropped low. He pressed his power into the soil and an artificial wind began to lash around them, picking up speed, while the very essence of Ryloth began to come alive. It was immediate, fierce. A light laugh escaped her lips at the request the Vicelord made. There was nothing amusing, yet, what he asked of her was redundant. “You needn’t seek it. The pain is here. Always, here. It is a great wound that has never, and will never, truly heal. Simply…Open yourself to it. Let it come to you. Let it become you.”

The runes that Darth Metus slashed into the permacrete were the beginning.

She stopped walking around him and instead stood before him. Silently, she extended her hand. They were connected. When Metus took hold the sigils he had carved would simultaneously expand and slam into the ground as if the very earth had been branded. They seared with dark light while burning in sweeping paths and intricate patterns. In the end—There would be a lattice work of ancient symbols and interwoven focusing leylines. “I will be the conduit. I can bear the sacrifice.”

Placing her being within the center would allow her to power the ritual. Her body, her soul, a blighted battery. Elyria knew the cost. He would simply have to trust that her strength could be filtered. She would maintain the link. He would drive the ritual. Decide the course. By his will—He would end this madness by any means necessary.

“Imdniji ri qo. Imdniji ri sûtja.”

Open the path. Open the door.

“Nu nuri iw ki katwa. Ki ditra, ki anmudzuna. Zinoti tu'iyia doryumi. Sosûtorsajuri ki hi akûti.”

I give of my body. My flesh, my spirit. Know your calling. Lend me thine eyes.

“Aji ki.”

Hear me.

“Aji ki.”

Hear me.​

Eyes that were always deep and dark filled with liquid black. Patterned corruption darted beneath the soft flesh under her eyes. It polluted her veins and for a brief moment, the pathway to her seemingly ageless connection to the Dark Side seemed to solidify. Any Force User worth their salt would be able to feel the chill. There was no hiding something so horrifically dark, especially, not from someone like Vytal Noctura . Her hands crackled with the response from the fragments of spirits that lay in a state of perpetual unrest. The shrieked with agony, a pain, that grew louder and louder. It was a millennia of suffering to endure. Centuries, of death. Blood soaked lands that could never been cleansed. The calling was not specific; and thus the spell would begin.

When Elyria set her terrifying gaze back toward Darth Metus , her voice, was not her own. It was hundreds of whispered murmurs. Languages. If he listened hard enough, he would hear wails of agony that had been buried in small, lonely echoes. Left to rot. Forgotten. Time had not dulled the severity of the crimes that had been committed on this world. Instead, it left that pain focused. It gave anguish form. Meaning.

Purpose.

“…They are here.”

 

[The Bridesmaid]

Objective: Don't die of embarrassment. Be protected by Protect the spooky Nerium
Location: Drop pod go woosh
Allies: Nerium | Herah | Kyrinov | Zaldros Sabolte | + AoC friendlies
Enemies: Asher Mossa | + The wonderful CIS meanies


Morgan tried her best to calm her breathing, but to no avail. She silently cursed herself for not seeing this coming. What had she expected, that this gigantic thing was just going to land on Ryloth and allow her to walk out of the ship peacefully? Whatever, it didn't matter now. She closed her eyes, trying her best to convince herself flying was perfectly fine, and smaller ships weren't scary at all.

When she opened her eyes again, they locked with Nerium 's. When the woman offered to hold her hand, Morgan gave her an uncomfortable smile. Apparently her little fit was more noticeable than she had liked. Still though, she didn't want to embarrass herself to the others, so she didn't accept the offer.

Then, almost immediately after, the pod shook heavily, causing a small yelp to escape from her lips. Morgan immediately disregarded any shame and instantly reached out for the woman's hand, grabbing on to it tightly. All she could do was hope this infernal ride wouldn't last too long. All she had wanted to do was make people proud by being here.

Oh, and she wanted to shoot people, obviously. That was always fun.

She noticed Kyrinov didn't seem to take the ride that well either, and watched him with a slightly concerned look. When his situation only seemed to deteriorate, Morgan let go of Nerium's hand, completely forgetting her own fears for a moment as she started to worry about the man instead.

"Hey. Hey! It's okay. We're going to be fine", she said, her own voice not as convincing as it should have been. She wasn't used to this, and didn't know what to do. Because of that, she was happy when Nerium acted, seemingly taking control of the situation. At least someone here seemed to know what to do in these situations.

When Kyrinov had 'fallen' asleep, Morgan allowed herself to relax a little, despite all the adrenaline pumping through her body. Nerium offered to hold her hand again, but Morgan politely declined. Once was embarrassing enough already, and it was time for her to show that she was just as good and brave of a warrior as the rest. Nevertheless, not much later she unconsciously reached out and grasped the woman's hand anyway. Great.

The rest of the ride was just as nightmare inducing as the rest, and Morgan muttered all kinds of prayers she didn't even know existed when they had landed. To her annoyance, she noticed Nerium 's hand in hers. She immediately retracted her hand, shyly muttering an apology as the others carried the man out of the pod. So much for that bravery.

She silently cursed at herself a couple of times as she followed the rest, but her attention eventually shifted to the man, who luckily seemed to be somewhat okay. "It's alright, we're all just glad you're fine", she reassured him.

And then, as if it was the most normal business in the world, both Kyrinov and Nerium jumped on some kind of birds, and headed for the mountain, and most likely, doom.

"I'm sorry, did I... miss some kind of info or something? Birds? Seriously? We're riding birds now?", she asked, genuinely confused. Of course, the others were long gone, so she didn't have much else to do than sigh and mount one herself.

"We're riding birds now."