Twilight of Prophecy [TSE Dominion of Voss]

[AMCO]

Location: Jedi Temple, Voss
Objective III: Another Temple, Another Massacre
Allies : [member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Mulokhai Zarandur"]
Post II

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At the time, it had seemed like a brilliant idea. Instead of following the Shadow Hand into battle, he would make his own entrance, hopefully cutting off any retreating Jedi scum.

With any luck, he would have been able to take the credit for finishing off a few (weakened) Jedi without actually having to risk his life in the heat of battle. A win-win scenario for everyone involved, or so he had thought. Of course, even the best-laid plans could come crumbling down in the face of unexpected circumstances.

He had expected the Jedi to be mad enough to fight, but he had never, not in his wildest dreams, expected them to be mad enough to cut off their own escape routes.

Grumbling under his breath, he made his way through the blasted stone corridors, stepping over the occasional corpse and greeting the occasional legionnaire. Of course his chosen point of entrance had been on the opposite end of the temple to the bottleneck leading to the Inner Sanctum. Bloody perfect. In truth, he had hardly wanted to get his hands dirty, but he had been looking forward to testing his first abominations on the field of battle. It was a shame, but oh well. There would always be holdouts; the occasional group of fools willing to fight and die for a lost cause. Fanatics, he had learned, never knew when to cut their losses.

 

[AMCO]

Damn it, my first double post in months. Oh, the horror.

 

[Arage Bao]

Location: Shrine of Healing, Voss.
Objective: Lay claim.

The Sith Empire was a refined machine working like clockwork.

Every little cog oiled and greased until it turned by perfection. Here on Voss every piece of that machine had its own targets, missions, operations that together combined to the desired end result: the conquering of Voss and its people. It was no different for this humble Muun and his forces. Whereas the Legion and the Armada were busy destroying the resistance of the Light, the Saaraishash had tasked Ardeth Zun with securing the ancient Shrine of Healing and uncover its secrets.

How did the Voss retain such extensive knowledge on their prophecies for millennia? How was it that none before had managed to breach their security and take those prophecies for themselves? Why were the Voss so exceptionally talented in these arts?

Many questions.

Ardeth answered them one saber slash at a time.

The Saaraishash had breached the outer layers of the fortification. White robes, opaque masks, lightsaber pikes out, they had shown no quarter to the Voss commandos made to protect. "Leave the mystics alive, the healers if possible." Ardeth commanded over the shared commlink to his troops. These halls were a mystery even to the Saaraishash. What sort of secrets did they hold? Only the mystics knew and it would be best to have a few of them on hand when the time came.

The Thirriken would be pleased.

 

[Koda Fett]

LOCATION: Shrine of Healing, Voss
OBJECTIVE: Lay Claim

The Saaraishash, the Assassins, the Brotherhood, the Legions were all the perfect pieces of the puzzle that created the well-refined machine that is the Sith. Their efficiency was reminiscent of an army the Mandalorian once fought within, an army of men that all shared his face. An army of one. That was a thing of past, though. An era ago, and leaving Fett a man out of time. Strangely enough, he would rather it no other way. It was here he could be a man of his own, someone that wasn't seen as just another number, and those who did? They found out that the last thing they were ever to see was the barrel of a Carbine with a T-Shaped Visor lurking beyond it.

Voss.

It was new to Fett. It's vast plains, cavernous undergrounds, and exotic wildlife. All of it. Maybe if the conditions were different, Fett may of been able to appreciate such things, but as was the tragedy of a man born to kill. There simply was no rest for the wicked. The mystical nature of the planet meant nothing to him, and all that was to come of this were fresh stack of credits in the greedy palm of the Mandalorian.

His Carbine was hot, a red glow encompassing the tip of the barrel as steam leaked from it. A tidal wave of crimson bolts soaring into the flesh of his enemies, rendering them dead or worse: available for capture.

A flash of a memory imprinted on his mind, consuming his concentration for the briefest of moments. He witnessed the blue blades of the Jedi ahead of him, their backs turned as the blaster bolts of a metallic army were deflected back into them- protecting the Mandalorian who appeared to be in plastoid, surrounded by another nine men who could once be called family. The memory was fleeting, and then it was gone, a snap back to reality. All of that... lost to time.

[member="Ardeth Zun"]

 

[Delmon Karrde]

Location: The Shrine of Healing
Objective: Lay Claim

Delmon would never get really used to the recoil on his weapon. The interchangable weapon system sat warm, almost searing against his gloves as he kept up the wave of fire, striking one of the Voss Commandos square in his neck, sending him tumbling into a heap on the ground. The Sergeant ducked back into cover, listening as command was going off in his ear, barking orders as they often did. He was a bit out of his usual depth with this one; usually he wasn't so autonomous, and just sticking to a Platoon lead's direction.

It was a nice change, even if the Saaraishash wasn't really what he'd been expecting to be assigned to for this operation. It was a temporary measure, sure, but that didn't make it any less strange. The more important members of the operation were ahead, pushing into the shrine. Gargoyle-1 was focused on clearing out the stragglers, but these Commandos were dug in deep. Command was telling him to stick with the Saaraishash assault force, to let other Legion elements handle it. This was going to be a bit complicated.

"Liagri!" He yelled out to the squad's heavy gunner, who was reloading his weapon and still doing it as he looked over to his ordering Sergeant. "I need covering fire on those Voss! We're moving further into the shrine, and leaving them to the other teams!" He shouted it loud enough for the others to hear, and Liagri nodded, popping up from cover and firing as much suppression as he could onto the Voss Commandos, giving room for the rest of Gargoyle-1 to move as they sprinted further in, and to another covered position. It wasn't perfect, though. At least one man was caught as they moved, riddled with bolts and sent sprawled onto the ground.

Without wasting time, the rest of the squad began laying down their own cover once they moved, and Liagri was able to push for them, making it quickly enough that they were able to pull back and further after the Saaraishash forces without too much issue. Delmon made a mental note that he was going to have to fill out a casualty report later - at least it was for something important. At least, he hoped so.

[member="Ardeth Zun"] | [member="Koda Fett"]

 

[Arage Bao]

Location: Shrine of Healing, Voss.
Objective: Lay claim.
Allies: [member="Delmon Karrde"] | [member="Koda Fett"]

The mercenary elements and Legion forces were a welcome addition to the Saaraishash party.

If only for the distraction they posed.

He requested a re-route of one of the units, the same one that Karrde was a part of coincidentally, and waited for them to arrive at the junction of several corridors within the shrine itself. They were on the ground floor now- the battle raging above them, but below... below it was all silent. The half a dozen Inquisitors he had send down through the elevator hadn't come back and that spoke tales.

"The Mystics are tight-lipped about what we will find there." The Muun said once Karrde and his men had arrived. There was also... a Mandalorian. That part was unexpected, most of them were quite firmly in the thrall of the Mandalorian Empire.

Or spread far away from both them and the Sith.

"Even their minds do not wish to divulge it, but we will find an answer regardless. For the Empire." He calmly continued and then the Force enveloped him. Within a second the Muun was gone from view, but his voice lingered briefly. "Move in once the screaming starts, please." With that order inserted Ardeth descended down the stairway that would bring him to the sub-level.

Silence was left in the Muun's wake.

Until... the screaming did start and echoed through the hallway towards the Sith troopers and Koda.

 

[Koda Fett]

Location: Shrine of Healing, Voss
Objective: Lay Claim

It was often that the word 'Mandalorian' was accompanied with a certain vitriol. Even when uttered by the Sith who share a non-aggression pact with the supposed warriors of Manda'yaim. Their reputation had been tarnished among those that respected their brutal and violent ways, and it was often that those who despised it mistrusted them- or so this Bounty Hunter had perceived such events, or how he assumed they were to unfold. In all reality, he simply wasn't there, gone after being one of the sparks that lit the flame, plunging that throne room into chaos. It felt as if it were yesterday, but at the same time yesterday was so far away.

​Dar'manda is what many may consider Fett, for he never heeds the call of the Mand'alor. A man of his own creed, of his doctrine, there is no law that he answers to other than his own. Mandalorian or not.

He carried himself with a certain weight, a self-importance or a deserved ego. The Carbine in his grip held in a particular way that screamed an abundance of use. His mannerisms, movement style, it all lined up with 'military'. Crouching by a doorway, waiting for the screaming to begin, to which it had.

A sudden burst onto two, and a cautious charge down the foreboding hallway that only thrust pained, almost synthetic screams, in his direction. The T-Shaped Visor's steely gaze continuing to encroach on the position until it ultimately did. His HUD ran rampant, appearing as nothing more than a garbled mess but one Koda was capable of understanding. Nevertheless, that Carbine of his began to glow red at it's tip once more, unleashing a hailstorm of bolts at any and all who stood in his way.

All this talk of Mystics was starting to bore him.

[member="Ardeth Zun"] - [member="Delmon Karrde"]

 

[Delmon Karrde]

Location: The Shrine of Healing
Objective: Lay Claim

Move in once the screaming starts.

Working with Sith, you think orders like that would've been a regular occurence. It wasn't so, at least from Delmon's perspective. Regardless of what he thought though, the orders were clear and concise, and he knew enough to figure that the Empire wanted these mystics for what they could tell, rather than decorating this shrine with their bodies. The Muun was already gone as he spoke quietly to his team.

"Non-lethal. Knock their lights out, or put rounds in their legs, but no killing. Let the Sith decide what's to be done with them." He didn't need to say anything more, hearing his squad begin to load their weapons behind him. Alright, this wouldn't be a problem. They had this. Definitely. They've got this. They were force users sure, but the Sith was going to send them scattering and freaking out, more than most others did, anyway. Besides, they mostly relied on the force for healing, so he figured they'd be alright.

Finally, the screaming started. Gargoyle-1 moved in like a machine with Karrde at the helm, directing the squad to fan out and watch the angles around them silently, just using motions from his hands. He saw a screeching, unreasonable Mystic round the corner, unable to control herself as the butt of hs rifle suddenly clattered into her cheek, leaving her out cold on the floor. The second-to-last man began stun cuffing her as the last watched his back, the rest of the squad continuing forward.

What other Mystics they could spot had the rifles strike into their legs, disabling them and putting them to the ground before they were finally subdued and restrained. It was quick and efficient, and Delmon began to feel like they were getting someplace, now. He wasn't a Mandalorian veteran of war or a dangerous Sith, but he had a well-oiled machine of a squad behind him, and that was enough to build confidence in his situation.

[member="Koda Fett"] | [member="Ardeth Zun"]

 

[Vestille Thumahra]

Vestille Thumahra​

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Voss-Ka, Voss​

Objective I​

Theme​

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Their work began immediately; another trial by fire.

Vestille and the Gravewalkers, once proudly independent and believing they were free from being nothing more than puppets, found themselves transporting not only themselves but troops of the Imperial Legion. This was no contract, not by a long shot. The past few days had caused turmoil and debate among the defectors yet, as they sat in the shifting transport descending upon the planet below, they knew that they could rely and trust on only one person; that person was Vestille Thumara. With an offer of a sense of duty, perks and rewards for servitude, it didn't take much for the former Grand Commander of the Sovereignty to become snared into their service, more so wrapped around their little finger; something deep down within his psyche retained psychological programming, indoctrination, only it needed a key to be brought back to the forefront; the Sith Empire, if nobody else, had that key. What could have been freedom was beaten down and replaced with a mindset that relied only upon tactics, orders, fighting techniques and reports; the very same mindset that he came to recognize as his time within the Empire yet, there was something else. The time within the Sovereignty had given him a sense of fighting on a larger scale, ensuring morale was kept high and zeal remained unbreakable. As the former Sovereignty transports descended upon the surface, the not-yet Imperials knew that this is where they belonged; in servitude of war and masters rather than trying to stake it out on their own.

And where were they being sent? Voss. The invasion to press native Voss and League alike had already started and no doubt the fighting had been heavy. Vestille and his unit, alongside additional Imperial troops, were to be sent in as the second wave to reinforce the fight to secure Voss-Ka and kill anything that got in their way. It was this simple order and the provision of equipment and liberty to obtain that end was something that seemed to strike a cord with the Gravewalkers; something that flicked that switch within their heads that brought them to a blood-lusting zeal and willingness to release the monsters that they had kept buried for the longest time. Ghosts was too light of a word for the dead men that had nothing left to life but conflict but wraiths? That suited them much better. As the transports burst through the clouds and were met with a blanket of smoke, fire and the screaming of guns and missiles, those damned aboard the Phi-Class transport felt a sense of ease, of familiarity; this was an environment they knew as home, the sights and sounds whilst horrifying some were nothing more than familiar sights. As the transports took evasive maneuvers and ducked and weaved through the fire, their course was set for a less defended area of the perimeter wall. The plan was simple and as soon as they were in range, it began, almost like clockwork.

The transports opened up with a volley of proton missiles to begin with, the swarm of missiles whizzing through the air and striking their designated targets; namely the turbolaser batteries defending their destined entry point. With their landing zone somewhat secure, the numerous re-purposed Sovereign transports took their rotations to land and offload their troops whilst the others offered covering fire with their four laser cannons, warding off any possible threat to the offloading troops. Men carrying pulse weapons and regular blasters to more specialized equipment; support weapons and demolition packs, the swarm of men broke up and formed into their squads, several Gravewalkers per handful of Imperial soldiers. Among these men were the haunted Commander, the one that had been raised and brought to his knees time and time again upon the battlefield. If he were a lord, this would be his domain, his kingdom. As communications came in with various battle chatter, the typically quiet Commander raised his hand and with a single stroke, like an artist with a paintbrush, he push his men to advance. Utilizing cover and covering fire, streaks of pulse and blaster bolts filled the air and fired at whatever defenders dared to try and establish some form of defense. As the constant barrage of regular munitions from the collective arms struck at the defender's positions, support weapons were being set up; missile launchers and mortars to rain fire upon the enemy's hardest and most dug in positions, like luring rats out of the sewers with a torch... Perhaps in both a metaphorical and literal sense as behind the line of fire, flamethrower troops remained on standby, ready to push in. All the while, demolitions teams moved towards the wall, covered by their comrades. Through their support, the foundations would be set to create a breach and then? It would all fall into place.

Vestille watched on, giving out his silent orders and his men going about and ensuring that his will was followed. The Imperials, for sure, must have been skeptical of the man who said very little, only providing his voice when the situation absolutely required it. Yet when he gave his order, they followed, just like the Gravewalkers followed without question. Perhaps it was out of a sense of having no time to argue or perhaps, just maybe, the young and old alike, trusted him. In truth, to those that had been present all that time ago, this whole set up seemed all too familiar, an operation that ended in failure and left a bitter mark against the Sovereignty; Zenith Prime. The tactics and battle plan were similar but no doubt effective, with the advantage of additional manpower and fire support on their side. It was under that dark sky that the Voss would fall and bend their knee, or be eradicated where they stood. It was through this that the Gravewalkers and their Imperial brethren would sat high atop the bodies and fly the flag of the Sith Empire over Voss-Ka.

It was on this day that a new chapter begun.

 

[Onrai]

"I think we can deem this stratagem test a success." Vanessa said. The Voss pilots were dying in droves to the pairs of fighters - already the squadrons had killed several times their number in Silver forces. How fortuitous this had become - the slaughter of the Voss on their own home planet. Vanessa was, to say the least, pleased by such an occurrence.

"Send in Crimson Command, Silencer Squadron, and the 5th Composite Fleet. The battle is one, but we want to turn victory into butchery of our enemy's military might."

Her fingers popped. "Now let's see what we can do from in here..."

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

The League of Voss fought valiantly, Fiolette gave them that much.

The official action reports would reflect that but ultimatley they were no match for the Sith-Imperial navy. The Rear Admiral watched as the last of the Voss ships broke apart, the escape pods that had been jettisoned would be captured if possible. "Orders?" Galeway asked.

"We leave when the Emperor deems it so, until then continue to collect the prisoners and those who wish to die - let them die." Fiolette felt nothing as the words left her mouth, hands behind her back as she looked at the scene before her. Azure orbs watched the decimation of the League's naval forces between herself and the rest of the Sith-Imperial forces. Quietly she turned away from the scene and walked along the command trench. "Voss belongs to the Sith now, ensure that they're reminded of this."

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Objective 1: Voss'ka and the Tower of Prophesy​

Current task: Destruction​

Darth Ophidia made a sharp turn in the air. She could feel the blood draining inside her flesh and slowly returning as she lowered herself down on the ceiling. Hands and feet touched the brick as she closed her eyes and crawled along the surface While her eyes saw nought, her mind saw more. It pierced through the building and she could see, below her, a circle of mystics sitting around one individual. Oh, it was as foreseen.

She positioned herself on the roof, reading the layers of construct beneath her and the distance at which she would fall should all she stood upon simply cease to be. Why, that was almost the plan. She sensed them in the Force, and she saw a pair of eyes shoot up to see her. That was when she dived.

She did not dive off the building, no, she dove into it. Her form melded through the matter, one, two ... three surfaces. She saw the room around her as her body turned in the air and her feet hit solid ground. A hand went to the back of her belt, popping the cap of a case there and pulling out a cylinder in bronze-like material. Three of the mystics stood, the youngest and quickest. Two rushed her while one took its place in front of the central mystic.

Deep violet flashed and the two mystics fell into four pieces as Ophidia rushed at the central sorcerer.

The mystic that rose to aid presented palms, but his push was too little, too late, as the blade pierced through the palms, through his abdomen, and into the cranium of the sacred woman sitting behind him. There was a moment of stillness as the mystics stared, some in comprehension, some in disbelief. A body slumped to the floor, and one remained sitting still, though the head was burned clean through. Life ebbed out of the being, stolen by the purple blade.

Darth Ophidia turned, Soulsaber in hand, and looked at each of them

"Resist all you want. The Sith Empire has come."

 

[Vallory]

Vallory looked over the field. She wanted to prove herself, she wished to do so. But for perhaps the first time, she was afraid. Then she was confused as she heard a voice in her head. She was looking around, trying to figure out who was giving the inspiration. When tried using the Force to figure out who, and she figured who when she caught them looking at her. After a moments hesitation...she nodded towards [member="Darth Rixas"]. Then she was given an ultimatum by another, [member="Taeli Raaf"].

So out she went. Activating the weapon for perhaps the first time ever for combat. Vallory began her own advance, trying to remember what she had been taught. Her flexible bones allowed for sleek and artful movement, easily dodging blaster fire which would not be the first time doing so.

Although she was flexible and good at dodging, she was clumsy with a saber. She lacked the training necessary in that area, waving it about as if she were a child swinging a stick around. While she proved no danger to allies with distance from them, she was not rpoving to be the most experienced Acolyte.

 

[Ras'kala'han]

Voss | The Nightmare Lands​

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When Vesper - then Antherion - had been recovering from his long slumber in the libraries of Lorrd, he had mostly been reserved. But when he heard that Voss had falled into the hands of the Jedi for such an extended period of time? He remembered, vaguely, hurling the datapad out of a tower window. What a waste! What loss! The heritage of the ancient Sith Lords, completely unique powers of darkness, the objects of research from which the genius of his time - well, other than himself - Lord Fulminiss, produced such dividends, the place that drew the interest of the Emperor himself? Destroyed, ruined. All around him was the evidence of lost cultural heritage. His lips curled slightly at the edges, an understatement of the rage swelling in his chest.

A Vorantikus approached, fangs wet with drool, eyes hungry. He flicked his wrist dismissively, frying its primitive mind with a spike of malice. The creature slumped into a catatonic nightmare from which it would never wake. It helped vent some anger. Not nearly all of it.

Following the same whisper of tainted darkness that guided [member="Jantar Keltainen"], he betrayed reckless disregard of his surroundings. He hated the jungle. He hated the way that traveling in the jungle meant he couldn't wear his favorite shimmersilk robes, or how it scraped at the edge of loose fabric - forcing him to wear a simple, black tunic, a bloodflower broach serving as a small token of his station. He wanted his secrets now, not later. And preferably, in a form portable enough to cart away from where there are gigantic felinids.

As he approached the clearing, though the Force tended to roil and fluctuate in these parts of Voss, a presence became clear. He paused for a moment, then turned towards a spot in the foliage, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"It looks like I'm not the only Sith with the good sense to go for what's truly valuable. Care to come out and let me get a look at you?"

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[member="Jantar Keltainen"]​

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective 2 - Liberate the Gormak
Location: Assaulting the siege line

Allies: [member="Vallory"] [member="Darth Rixas"]

Crushed between the Sith from behind, sweeping down into their trench lines and overrunning their firing positions, and the Gormak attacking from within the enclave, the League of Voss were rapidly failing on this front. They just didn't have the numbers, and the attack from both directions was forcing many of their forces into the trenches where the Sith and Gormak could pick them off. For her own part, she was currently dueling against two Jedi, one a Nautolan and the other a native Voss. The Voss seemed to be the commander of the commandos present.

"Traitor!" the Nautolan shouted, bringing his green blade into a sweeping arc. It was deftly redirected away from her, the smirk on her lips only growing as the Voss moved in to attack her flank.

"You're a traitor to your own ways," she replied easily. "You are no Jedi, and all you have tried here, the killing and oppression of the Gormak... very unbecoming of the Silver Jedi legacy. What would the Heavenshields think?"

"Shut your karking mouth!" the Nautolan screamed, rushing in with even more aggression. Fool. She deflected his strike, then another, and... lightning arced from her hand and sent him flying back into the Voss where they started to convulse. Behind her, a squad of Sith troopers moved into this trench command center, securing the barely conscious Jedi. They would be shipped off, to be turned or executed. She really didn't care which.

"Report."

"Two siege lines have been broken, and the surprise has only meant some 8% casualties for our assault force. The Gormak have suffered more losses, but we are close to breaking through and linking. Injured are being transported a klick away for emergency treatment if needed. It won't be long now, my Lady."

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Objective IV

Post Three

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h2h3TlHcLY0

Jantar knew her place in the pecking order of the Sith.

First among them were those for whom their title meant nothing. They were elevated from peers identified purely by nomenclature because of a range of things. Sometimes it was charisma, other times power, yet others their control of the Force – or even what they physically controlled.

But they stood apart – and should not be crossed. Not that Jantar would fawn to them – her stubborn pride would not allow it – but she respected what they had and why they were in their pre-eminent position.

Next came the Lords, and Ladies. Yes, there may have been the occasional individual with a different title in this group, and a few were either on an upward trajectory into that higher echelon – but this was, essentially the grouping. In Jantar’s eyes, there were too many here – but that was neither her call, nor her particular interest. This group she was wary of. She would not cross them and, as a rule, kept away from them unless they could provide her with something she wanted.

For Jantar was, essentially, selfish. She served the Sith because she needed things only they could provide. She was dutiful, it was par for the course – and she was not foolish enough to play the system. But her allegiance was – primarily – to herself.

Next came the rank equivalent of Knight. These were the last grouping to officially call themselves Sith. In Jantar’s experience, they tended to focus too much on what was around them. They were nervous of talent within their group. They were nervous of talent beneath them. Each and every one (and Jantar knew this was a false generalisation) wanted to be the next to rise to the rank of Lord. Jantar kept away from this group for all of the reasons recounted – and more.

Then came the Acolytes. In a sense a replica of the rank above. And for precisely the same reasons, Jantar decided to avoid them wherever possible. When it came to missions, she either worked with Lords or she worked alone.

Which was why she was on Voss by herself. And, was relieved that when she sensed another nearby, it was from one of the groupings she was predisposed to working with. Which of the top two tiers this particular Sith belonged to, she had no idea.

She parted the leaves in front of her and stepped into full view. The Force rendered hiding-places like foliage redundant anyway.

Jantar was dressed as Jantar was always dressed. Head to toe in black, her short red hair hidden presently by the hood of her cloak. Underneath were standard Sith robes, hand-crafted Firaxan shark-skin boots and a simple belt, crafted from the same material, that her saber-staff was clipped to.

She didn’t speak. There was no point. From this point on, she had been relegated from mission leader to underling. It was a role she’d accept – as long as she still had her eyes on the prize.

[member="Darth Vesper"]

 

[Arage Bao]

Location: Shrine of Healing, Voss.
Objective: Lay claim.
Allies: [member="Delmon Karrde"] | [member="Koda Fett"]

They would find him deeper back in the level.

In front of a set of doors, thick metal, the surface decorated with carvings of flowers and mountains deeply set in the steel. Beside him were a couple of Voss Mystics, drool and spit still slowly trailing down their lips, with vacant expressions but steady heartbeats. The Muun did not pay them nor the new arrivals any heed, instead focusing on this set of doors.

Long fingers trailing the metal while murmuring incantations.

This continued on for a minute or two, until Ardeth finally sighed. "It seems the Mystics were correct. The vault doors are warded against the Darkside." He turned and eyed both the Mandalorian as well as the sergeant. "Blow it."

"Precision charges, I do not wish the contents to be destroyed."

Oh, the Sith Knight already knew what lay beyond, because the pair of Voss Mystics to the side were its caretakers. This place was a vault for the Vitalicrons, the ancient storage devices that the Voss had used in the past to record their memories, their dreams, their prophecies after taking their journey through the Shrine of Healing here and enduring the various trances.

It was the secret to their power.

Ardeth's eye was already gleaming with pleasure.

Rows upon rows, stacked to the ceiling, the mysteries recorded for millennia. This was a true treasure.

 

[Koda Fett]

Location: Shrine of Healing, Voss
Objective: Lay Claim

It was relatively close the entrance in which Fett currently stood. A fresh wave of crimson blood splattered over his lower right leg, but fear not, it wasn't his. Instead, it came from the mouth of the Voss Commando that slumped to the floor once the spiked tip of Fett's boot freed itself from the native's neck. An on-looker may view the action as overly violent, an overkill for a dying foe, even simply unnecessary. Although, in reality? It was just efficiency. You make sure everything you came to kill is dead before you move on, otherwise you catch a bolt in the back from a wounded foe. There was a reason that Koda Fett was paid what he was, and it was that one fact: efficiency.

A silence swamped the cavernous room within the Shrine of Healing. The only sounds that entered Fett's audio receptors were that of brain-dead drooling, boots marching, venting blasters, and mystical mumbling. The last Fett cared for the least, but that was already known well enough by now. He was a private man, but some things couldn't be hidden behind a silent demeanour.

Ultimately, he stood before those doors and received an order. Yet, he didn't act. Precision was a role Fett was capable of taking on, but today he was the hammer not the scalpel. A T-Visor glanced in the direction of the Sith Troopers, then flicked in the direction of the doors. They were up. In the meantime, he took a step back. You never wanted to be in that blast radius.

[member="Ardeth Zun"] - [member="Delmon Karrde"]

 

[Delmon Karrde]

Location: The Shrine of Healing
Objective: Lay Claim

It was odd to be the scalpel for once. Odd, but good.

Karrde glanced back towards the Muun, giving an affirmative nod in response to his orders. It was a clear enough order, and Gargoyle-1 had gotten used to getting these things done quickly, without fuss. He quickly motioned to his squad, making sure everyone knew their places. "Starkos, precision charges. Sapan and Dusat, get these two over here out of the way for now. Ligani and Dalledos, you two maintain rear guard on the doorway." The squad immediately responded, all moving into positions as Karrde overlooked.

Starkos placed precision charges as Delmon stuck close, making sure he was doing it right. These charges weren't for blowing things open so much as popping holes; structural integrity was key, and damaging that made something like this far more vulnerable, far easier to just pry open. If you had the force, you could probably just shove these vault doors aside with your mind if you had the inclination.

The two drooling mystics were moved aside, enough of a distance away so they didn't interfere, should they snap out of it at the last minute. Still, these bombs weren't going to do any damage to whatever was inside that this Sith desired. Starkos finally finished with the charges, arming them as Karrde and him both backed up a decent amount, taking firing positions near cover and keeping their weapons trained at the vault doors. Even if this thing hadn't been opened for thousands of years, it paid to be cautious.

[member="Koda Fett"] | [member="Ardeth Zun"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Objective 1: Voss'ka and the Tower of Prophesy​

Current task: Destroy.​

While the deed was done.

Darth Ophidia was still surrounded by Voss, all of which had an aptitude in the Force. While she didn't feel threatened, she knew she was under threat. Lowering her guard could be fatal. The remaining six individuals had risen to their feet and spread out. They watched her with their blank expressions and their illuminated eyes. Their faces were so akin to those of her own kind, yet different. She had no qualm striking them down. If anything, their resemblance to her kin caused an itched in the back of her brain; an itch called memory, memories she had wilfully forgotten

She pointed the Soulsaber at one. Their ring around her shifted as the pain emanating from the blade pushed some back and allowed others to close in. Ophidia turned, placing the blade over her shoulder, primed to swing.

"As you wish."

Her hands wrung the bronzen hilt and an invisible cloud of hungry Force spread around her. The eyes of some of the Voss went wide as their skin drained of colour and their eyes dulled. The Soulsaber sucked the life out of them, giving her just the moment she needed for one, two, four vicious slashes of the blade. Six turned to three. A boom of the Force cut them down to two. And then two to one. The blade pushed her further and futher. The rope she held on to became thinner and thinner, yet Darth Ophidia held on to her sanity despite the weapon's efforts.

The Pale loomed over the last Voss, her burning eyes, unblinking, set to stare into his.