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It was rather surprising for the masked man to see how his Sceleratis got bested with such ease and finesse, both seemed to walk on for several moments, only for both of them to suddenly collapse, their legs cut clean off from underneath them. While there had been four more Sceleratis not too far away from the stranger, Credius used his free hand to simply motion them not to come close, making it quite clear that he was going to handle this one himself. The stranger was right, droids could be useful...but now they proved to be a liability, certainly when they had clearly been discovered.
"I will admit that I am impressed," His tones were sly, cold and hollow, its unnatural nature amplified by the mask which muffled every single sharp tone that came from his lips, adding even more to the mystifying nature of his voice. The unnaturally predatory red eyes with their inhuman red slit pupils squinted ever so slightly in a show of glee and amusement. "This...will be entertaining."
Slowly lowering his free hand, Credius' concentration peaked for but a split second, when with a flick of his wrist, both the disabled droids suddenly got flung towards Ever Dawnracer with great force, utilizing this attempt to distract his opponent, the monstrous force abomination lunged forward with his large red blade, attempting to skewer the woman, but he did not quit with just one thrust, as with a speed unnatural to any human nor any force sensitive human at that, a flurry of rapid thrusts were made with the blade, capable of piercing through the alchemized songsteel of the droids like a hot knife through butter, and since it wasn't a lightsaber...cortosis and phrik could be considered just as useful as a paper maché armor in this onslaught.
"You are strong, child...but you have yet to understand...the depths of of the Force," Letting out a chuckle, Credius would jump back, landing silently and gracefully a few paces backwards, repositioning his grip on his blade as he held it above himself, again with the sharp tip pointing towards his opponent, ready to both defend and attack within a moment's notice. "Or perhaps...you're lack thereof."
Perhaps he thought his words would have an effect on her. With many he'd be correct.
Instead of being phased by them, she simply tossed one blade to the other hand, holding both concurrently, grabbed the limb of one of the droids thrown at her, and smashed it into the other to direct both into the nearby wall with enough force to leave a solid indentation. She didn't care about the wall getting damaged, she just wanted to make sure she didn't. It wasn't a show of force for her either, but mere practicality. A means to an end, not a move for gloating.
He was fast as well, and on her quickly with a flurry of thrusts that would surely skewer a wild boar, or three. The twin blades in her hand sang as she connected parries, a whirlwind of motion that wasn't limited to her blades, but to her entire body as she deftly danced this way and that to avoid his strikes, often by the narrowest of margins as he was, indeed, fast. Her armor sustained a few nicks and cuts, to be sure, but it wasn't something she was worried about. The entire point of armor was to take such abuse in order to protect the wearer. People that obsessed over armor, and there were a lot of those types out there, were oblivious to its purpose entirely. Or, perhaps, they were intentionally ignorant of it and treated armor as fashion.
Each time her blades touched his, they siphoned energy away and fed it to her. She felt stronger with each parry. And the way the blades sang to her was amazing. It wasn't the first time she'd used them in battle, but it was the first time she really felt the connection through them to the Force itself. Almost like a sense of euphoria, guiding her motions to continue because the blades enjoyed it.
"The Ahktar sings," she noted as he pulled away. "Fortuitous. I suppose it enjoys fighting one such as yourself."
He showed no signs of tiring. She didn't breathe any harder than she had when she'd been standing still. Her voice betrayed no care for what he said, nor anything other than admiration for her own weapons. Tossing the other blade back to her free hand, she brought them up into the X again and focused her attention on the being in front of her. While she didn't know what he was, she knew strength. And where there was strength, there was more strength for her. Not in knowledge, no she would never allow the darkness to taint her being, but in energy. Energy her blades could take and give to her, making her stronger as time went on. She didn't have to beat him. He could beat himself.
But she was going to help him do so.
With only the slightest shift of her foot she sprang forward, arms a whirlwind of motion as she struck with cutting actions aimed not towards where one would expect, but at the meaty parts of his right thigh and arm, her intention to swiftly drift past him even if the cuts were stopped. She wasn't looking to cut him apart or skewer him as he had her. It was a difference in their styles, a difference in their methodology. Death by a single blow vs death by a thousand cuts.
A song it was, a dance between two who held power not just within their hands, but in their very sould and within the connection each held to the force. But where the Monster's blade was ment to endure to evolve, the stranger's blades seemed to exist with the purpose of drawing the force. Thus, while they clashed, there was a factual case of an inevitable stalemate. For the Genesis blade seemed to grow sharper and stronger with every nick it made in the stranger's armor, while Credius could feel that with every nick the stranger's blades made to his own armor, some of his power and energy seemed to be sapped and siphoned away. It wasn't enough just yet to truly make any difference, but it WAS enough for him to notice and realize that though in a somewhat underhanded and maybe amateuristic way, the stranger was trying to fight him on a terrain he excelled at.
His eyes darted down for but a millisecond, noticing the shift in her weight, the slight difference in her breathing as her diaphram twisted, he could hear her blood pumping, her energy churning. A god may have been facing a few jedi at this point, but this undoubtedly master within the Force was facing an absolute monster of a man...if in truth, Credius could still be called a man, given the condition of his body, his soul and the connection of the two.
As the woman sprang forth, a flurry of cuts and stabs aimed at the softer parts in his armor, finally the Abomination revealed why he had such confidence and such arrogance in his voice, for in the moment her blades would narrowly have reached their target, Credius' free hand had already moved, unleashing a shockwave of such magnitude that it ripped assunder the very plates of durasteel which skinned the interior of the walkway, shredding them like sheets of tin foil, crumpling them and making the walkway itself shudder as the air got displaced with such force that if anyone within the vicinity did not wear a rebreather or a helmet capable of filtering the air, they'd feel their lungs burn due to the lack of oxygen.
"You are good," Letting out a deep sigh, the monstrous man raised his blade again, once more rushing forwards towards Ever Dawnracer with the intent to not just stab her straight to her guts, but also channeling his own force through his blade, in a sense copying what she had been doing to him, but on a much larger scale, for as his aura spread, the cold and unease spreading in the air, so too would the force be drained from the surroundings. After all, the Abomination before her was the Lord of Hunger...
The shockwave was unexpected. It flung her back with relative ease, just as it cut the walls as though it were a hot knife slicing through nerf hide. Without a doubt a lesser person would probably have been annihilated by the blast. Even some Jedi wouldn't have survived it. The immense power behind it was such that even she felt the strain as she slammed into walls like a pinball. If she'd been an onlooker, she would have been horrified by the way her body was flung about. Surely, she should be dead! But lo, she was not. By the very nature of what she was, and because every passing moment her body was so full of the Force, she survived without even a bruise.
Her armor, however, was not so lucky. Several plates had been blown off and in some places her skin was now exposed. As she regained herself, she felt a change in the air around her. Cold. Unease. Even as he started forward, her hand moved so quickly it almost couldn't be seen, removing her helm and tossing it away since her armor was useless to her now. Golden hair spilled forth about her head and her eyes rested on him as he came towards her.
"I understand now," she said as he blade came towards her.
She understood what he was. Before she had only sensed darkness. Malevolence. Alchemy. But that cold, the hunger that emanated from him as he came at her, as she once again began the dance of strike avoidance, told her the truth, that he was an eater. Not of the flesh. Not of the mind. Not of the soul. But of the Force itself. A Force Vampire. She was certain of it. Abomination. An entity more worthy of destruction than any ever before created. Her place was certainly there. This was right. It was no wonder the Ahktar was singing to her about the battle. Its lightside nature sensed the corruption of this being before it and implored her to cut it down. Kill it. KILL IT.
A cut. She felt it. A mere nick and energy was siphoned away. She forced blood to the wound, sealing it swiftly by forcing the skin cells to grow with a haste abnormal. And even then, she danced, her blade occasionally connecting with his, their siphoning canceling each other out. The wound was not enough to stop her, for she was Matukai, a physical manifestation of the Force. Her own connection to it continued to grow the more she trained. Stronger and stronger she would grow throughout her life. Such was the abilities of the Matukai. He could try and suck her dry, but she needed only a trickle to be this strong.
"Do you understand?" she asked before slipping beneath his strike.
Both of her blades rose around either side of his and she grasped both hilt and blade in her hands, intent on sandwiching his blade between hers. Let him drink if he could get past the power of the light that flowed through her and her blades. She cared not. Strength remained, and her intent was to twist so forcefully and mightily, with strength no mere human should ever have, and either wrench the blade from his hands, or break the blade in two. It didn't matter to her. This fight required the ingenuity of a Matukai. Using powers the Jedi would exhibit would only feed him. This was her fight.
"I see..." This stranger who had been subject to one of his more powerful skills within the force, had gotten up practically unscathed and without bruises of note. This was not something any ordinary being could do, not even a jedi with a powerful force body ability would've gotten out of such a pinball-esque scenario without as much as a scratch.
While the stranger seemed to finally understand part of Credius' nature, he too in turn started to understand her own skill and the nature of her power and techniques. They truly were juxtaposed in practically every way. That is...if Credius was a true Sith. And that is where this stranger might have made a mistake. Credius knew from the way she acted, the few words she had uttered that she held no love for any of the typical sides of the coin, the typical heralds of the force and in turn those words, those mannerisms and finally the display of strength revealed to him just as much as his own display revealed to the stranger. "A Matukai...I thought those had ceased to exist...very, very interesting."
His words slipped out of his mouth as the stranger dove underneath his thrust, his crimson eyes still showing that he could follow her movement, revealing that he wasn't lying, he held some interest in her. When finally she revealed her plan, locking his blade and sandwiching it in between her own, she might come to the realization that breaking the Genesis blade would be somewhat of a straining task, as it had already grown much stronger than an ordinary alchemised blade due to the constant nicks it had gotten, strengthening and evolving along the way. However, it did not mean that Ever Dawnracer had made a bad choice, for as she had effectively locked the blade in place, she had by extension also forced Credius to change his approach, as he himself realized that while his sword wouldn't be broken so easily, he from his end would have an equal issue in trying to retrieve the blade from the Matukai master's grip.
"Do you understand?" The Monstrous man retorted, still showing a strange glee and satisfaction within his crimson eyes, almost as if he wasn't worrying all that much, despite the fact that he had come to the understanding of just how awkward the match up between the two was in reality.
It was a conundrum, but one he was willing to take head on, this stranger had to understand that she wasn't facing some ordinary Sith Lord, Matukai or not, if this one was physically superior to the point of taking little to no damage from blunt damage, slashing damage, then there was but one option left... The Abomination hated to use this force technique too much, but there was no denying that when it came to force lightning there were perhaps only one or two people around that could match his skill and ferocity with it, but with his superbae armor on...that number would be reduced to zero.
With energy crackling around the wrist of his free hand, the Abomination suddenly closed his hand and for perhaps a single blink of an eye nothing seemed to happen, until without warning, without hesitation, the Genesis Blade erupted with lightning of such magnitude that it could fry and incinerate any living being within a matter of nanoseconds, with lightning strong enough to break apart cells, char atoms to dust and even disassemble the very midichlorians in a body. The downside of using it though, was that it put a strain on Credius' own body as well, since he had only recently regained his youth through engorging himself on the force through his ritual, he had yet to reach the true power that the prime of his body could and would sustain.
"And I thought Force Vampires were a myth, but here we are," she said as she stared at him. "Guess we're even."
This was turning into a battle of the impossible. He could grow stronger from her, and she could grow stronger from him. She could grow stronger from within, too, which meant, in theory, she could outpace him, but she had to last long enough to do so. Holding his blade as she was certainly helped in the survival aspect, but it also kept her locked in place. If she let up, he would have free reign to use it again, and it was, clearly, his greatest physical weapon in the fight against her. He might be strong enough to resist her taking it from him, and it was clearly strong enough to resist breaking, but she could still hold him in place.
But as in all things, change was inevitable.
Lightning coursed from him, through his blade to her. At first she screamed, the shock of it overriding her control, but that scream quickly quieted. The lightning coursed through and over her body, and slowly electrical burns began to appear on her skin. The damage was clearly visible, and it was a struggled to keep her muscles from involuntarily convulsing in response to the artificial electrical signals they were received, but even as she sustained burns, even as it caused damage to her body, she remained composed, resisting releasing him. But she couldn't stay that way, because she knew she'd die if she did. No human could withstand that level of electrical attack forever, not even a Matukai.
The pain was intense, but she forced her body, via the Force, to not lock up and as quickly as she could, lunged her legs towards his with the intention of wrapping her legs around one of his. She could create a feedback loop, then, of the energy flowing from him, into her, and back to him. In that way, both of them would be hurt by what he was doing. It was unorthodox, but if he was a Vampire, she had to counter his ability to feed by damaging his body as he tried to do it. If she outpaced his regenerative ability, she would win the fight.
To increase the temperature on him, quite literally, she also allowed the electricity flowing through her to heat up her body. Amplifying this with natural Matukai techniques, her skin began to get so hot that she turned reddish orange. This helped to alleviate some of the pain and problems from the electricity, and it also caused her clothing to catch on fire. She was turning herself into a human torch. Fire. Most things didn't like fire, and most materials could burn. Metals could melt. Anything she touched would burn. Even a Vampire.
<<This is Night Scythe, initiating—brzZzrt— out.>>
<<Contact! --preeing out? Repeat-- my wingma--gone, I can't---!>> <<Revenant. Initi—kKkzZzff—cols. Going dark—ffSshhFffsSsh>>
The storm overtook them, thick and churning clouds filled as if pregnant with crimson lightning maelstroms, unfurling to entrap the entangling fleets. Great shifting pockets opened up from within the maw, filled with hurricanes cluttered by Escobar’s loosed detritus and crackling with tendrils of climbing electricity.
One by one, the comms switched to silence. Voices cut away into static. Debris like sand beat at the Last Light’s viewport, the only noise which could be heard, that muffled scuttling an odd accompaniment to the churning chaos beyond. A sort of odd silence took the ship’s bridge, punctuated by the clipped commands of stressed navigation officers.
One by one, as planned, the hidden Baron-Class Gunships (Hammers), scattered like mines in the wreckage between Escobar and the Alliance scum, powered to life and pushed off into the storm. Behemoths with hulls wrapped in layers of reinforced durasteel armor, bristling with point defense turrets and protected by numerous, robust ion and reflective shield generators, the Hammers spread out for the hunt.
Lightning flashed in the distance. Silent explosions were snuffed out in the fog.
People began to die. He felt them call out in the Force, their final moments of panic and fear, of despair, causing tremors in the skin at the back of Caedes’ neck. He shivered, wrapping his arms around a frail body and hugging himself. They called out to him, hungry, those souls, willing to make any kind of deal for a second chance.
“Make of me thine art,” they begged, he repeated, muttering, “mine art, that I might live again.”
Around Caedes, the tactical live-display flickered and reset, flickered and reset again, sputtering as if out of breath and underwater, trying and failing to gather the data required to support its broadcast amidst the storm. Ships became still therein, displayed as in their last recorded positions, their synchronized vector lines weaving holo-light like a basket ‘round the diminutive Caedes and across his face.
“Release the Jen’qazoi,” he exclaimed breathily, a grim kind of glee staining the gravel-slithering of his voice.
“It is time for them to feed.”
Mist Wraiths in the dozens spilled out from the belly of Last Light moments later, long stretched ghosts which entered the storm and became part of it, specters hungry for the despair of desperate minds. Able to smell living thought at impossible distances and drawn to it like sea killers tasting blood, the wraiths shrieked as they were released, ecstatic for the feasting to come. With their sorcerous sight and predator cunning, Caedes trusted his children to sniff out the enemies no doubt scampering within his storm and feed on their absolute, abject horror. No shield nor metal could protect against the haunting attentions of a Jen’qazoi. Caedes began to laugh as if at some untold joke, a giggle which shook him in silence.
Out there in the darkness, patiently waiting like jaws yet to snap closed, the true power of his fleet— indeed the true power behind Korriban’s throne— Admiral Elmindra Xitaar readied her fleet for the killing strike. Almost he pitied his limping enemy. Valiant, in their own way. Proud, though misled.
“Take us in, Captain,” Caedes rasped, hissing, his mood souring in an instant.
“Yes sir. Your will,” replied the captain, his tone all smooth silk and practiced purr.
“I sense a plot to deceive us,” Caedes said, aiming a brief glance at A’Mia’s, though speaking as if to no one in particular.
“Their defiance burns bright, it, it gives them away.” He smiled again, a crooked thing.
“Captain, you have the bridge,” he ordered, abruptly.
“Yes sir,” replied the Captain.
“They’ll aim to take the shipyards if they can, not to destroy. To liberate,” he mocked.
“Defend Escobar’s lanes of entry. Liberation cannot be achieved by firepower from out here, but by boots on the ground inside. To cut the head off sets those beneath free, it is the naive chant of the sheltered. Let the Vehemence and Night Scythe concern themselves with maintaining the blockade, our concern must be Escobar.” Caedes hesitated, head tilted as if hearing something far off.
“You’re right,” he admitted, this time undoubtedly to the neti A’Mia.
“It is time.”
Motioning the tactical to standby, Caedes stepped down from the raised viewing balcony and approached his apprentice at the bridge’s far side.
“And we are not alone,” he said, eagerly, “even now we are joined in the Dark Side.”
The neti’s roots tore furrows in the metal sheets of the Last Light’s floor, branches wrenching aside panels to intrude upon walls and burgeon up into the ceiling.
“It is time,” he repeated.
Beneath the tree-like form of A’Mia’s main body, in the shade of her fungal canopy, lay a circle of braided vines and artfully arranged corpses. Sitting cross-legged, Caedes entered at the circle’s far side, back straight and opposite to his apprentice. Cupping both hands, he placed one within the other and set both between his thighs. He slowed his breathing and reached out with his mind to touch at the madness of warfare. Through passion I gain strength.
Baron-Class Gunships, "Hammers" (16) powered up, previously hidden within the detritus the Sith ordered Escobar dump in preparation for Sluis Van's defense. Now they patrol the storm as a first line of defense.
Darth Caedes released Jen'qazoi from his flagship and into the storm. Undead spirits with the ability to dissipate into fogbanks stretching for kilometers, they specialize in surveillance and psychic warfare. They are drawn to thoughts and sentient minds, and while some hunt in the storm with the Hammers, most hang back along Escobar's surface, providing a last line of vigilant defense against those trying to board through airlocks, maintenance bays, hangar bays, etc.
The Oblivion Cohort, led by Blood Spear (Lonchis-Class Battlecruiser), and consisting of Aries-Class Cruisers (10), plus their combined payload of 50 Buzzer fighter squadrons (600), and 10 HAF-33 "Starbane" (240) creates a widespread horizontal defensive screen between Last Light and Escobar, with Blood Spear at the formation's middle, centered roughly on Last Light & Escobar.
Reaver Group, led by Revenant (Ignisir-Class Star Destroyer), and consisting of Baron-Class Gunships (16), 3 Buzzer squadrons (36) and 5 HAF-33 "Starbane" squadrons (60) patrol the storm's core.
Buzzer fighters took heavy casualties from environmental hazards and dogfighting (down 55%)
Starbane bombers recalled after light casualties (down 12%)
Eyes closed, Admiral Elmindra Xitaar, First Lord to the reclaimed throne of Korriban, breathed with the rhythm of the Force. Levitating roughly a meter from the floor of her command deck in a cross-legged position, the Falleen woman floated in space as if she was a star at the epicenter of her fleet. Her stillness was absolute save for the slow rise and fall of her chest and the rapid flicker of her eyes beneath closed lids as she and her seven navigators bathed in the red glow of Force crystals. Affixed to the ceiling in a symmetrical halo, the massive crystals had been a fine addition to her command deck as they were meant to strengthen her connection to the dark side and empower her Battle Meditation. So deep was she in the rivers of the Force, so absolute was her dominion over the other minds within her ship, that she could feel their breath and the beating of their hearts as surely as if they were her own. Such power was only the beginning given the resources at her disposal and tasting it only made her hunger for more.
Exhale.
Elmindra reached out with the Force, casting her veil of subjugation out beyond The Omen to shroud the entirety of her fleet. She shivered with unbridled satisfaction at the rush of power as the intoxicating caress of her influence settled over thousands of minds spread out between the battlecruiser command ships to the small army of strike frigates. Riding the momentum of her outreach, Elmindra cast her consciousness out into space in the direction she knew the Sluis Van shipyards to be. A tempest of dark power was already brewing from within Escobar, courtesy of The Dead God no doubt. The conflict above the shipyards was close relative to the vastness of space yet far enough to require a micro jump for her fleet to enter. There, commanding The Last Light, she knew Lord Caedes to be. With him, as she often was of late, A’Mia was there, conjuring her own well of power within the Force. Elmindra could feel him there, her Lord. His presence, so familiar to her now, was distinct. Chaotic. Potent. Even amidst such forces as those that clashed all around him. Like a ripple at the edge of a tidal wave, the caress of her mind could be felt by her king. I am coming, she seemed to convey to him, and together we shall have victory.
“Prepare to jump to the coordinates when they are provided,” the admiral broke the silence, her voice steady as stone and pregnant with authority.
“Hail The Invictus and The Harbinger with a tight-beam transmission.”
“Yessss, Admiral Xitaar,” the Rajakzânkut lieutenant diligently hissed their response.
“Captain Maj, prepare to jump. Comms may not be operational at the battlefront. You must use your training, draw your power from the Force, and do not rely solely upon the instruments of your ship. Failure is not an option,” she delivered the command to her apprentice, captain of The Invictus, with a stern finality.
“Understood,”he affirmed. The younger male Falleen, Tozar Maj, had come highly recommended by A’Mia upon his graduation from the Kor'ethyr Academy and had proven to be promising on the battlefield but this would be a test unlike anything he had undergone thus far.
“Captain Ag-Ro-Na, standby at the ready and await my command. You will each receive landing coordinates shortly.”
Through their bond in the Force, Elmindra could feel her navigators plotting their course at her command, building the optimal pathway into the conflict as planned with intricate precision. She helped construct their course, pinpointing areas most likely to be beyond the combat zone and behind the enemy’s firing line. The admiral's Kainite fleet was to arrive in the heat of conflict on the outskirts of the battlefront in an effort to pin enemy fighters against the storm and reign heavy fire on enemy capital ships and carriers. The Falleen sith’s large reptilian eyes suddenly opened and her feet alighted upon the ground as she stepped from her meditation as if from a dream. She all but floated to her tactical display and punched in the landing coordinates she and her navigators had conjured for each of the fleet’s contingents and had them sent directly to The Invictus and The Harbinger.
“Engage hyperdrive and jump to lightspeed.”
It took mere moments for The Omen and its armada to drop out of hyperspace in the quadrant Northeastern to the shipyards. A dozen strike frigates formed a firing line, followed by three star destroyers in a staggered formation that allowed for a wider firing range and superior defense. The remaining strike frigates stayed back to protect the cruiser and its heavy fighters. Looming behind it all was The Omen. The suta-class battlecruiser had seen many such battles and, in the hands of Elmindra Xitaar, it was sure to crush any opposition the Galactic Alliance could conjure. The Invictus dropped out of hyperspace moments later to engage enemies in the quadrant Southwestern to the shipyards and employed a similar tactic to the Admiral's. The battlefield before them proved to be alive with violence and even more complicated than anticipated. A massive space creature writhed within the billowing crackling storm that enveloped the shipyard and beyond while enemy ships swarmed. Elmindra recognized the massive supercarrier as one such most likely under the command of Admiral Angellus, a worthy opponent in truth and one Elmindra had hoped to meet on the battlefield again. Perhaps this time she could cripple the Galactic Alliance with the defeat of their brightest and best. She stood tall, overlooking the tactical display from her command deck with greedy determination, still reveling in the power of the Force flowing through her and her fleet. She began marking targets on the tactical display and following with orders to the relevant captains, vice captains, and commanding officers with cold efficiency, her apprentice following a similar tactic across the battlefield.
"Omen, cut engines and lock position. Full power to the Axial Cannon. I want all firing solutions cleared and sent to my tactical."
"Strike frigates, set course and advance on enemy vessels. Open fire and target their support craft."
"Destroyers, lock position and focus your fire on the carrier. Form staggered lines and drown them with overlapping fields of fire. Box them in and grind them to dust."
Admiral Elmindra Xitaar bolstered her fleet with a Battle Meditation then used her ability as a navigator to micro-jump her battle contingent and that of her apprentice to precise and tactically optimal locations in and around the conflict at the Sluis Van shipyards.
The Omen Armada dropped out of hyperspace in the quadrant Northeastern to the shipyards to engage Admiral Angellus' Battlegroup Alpha.
12 Strike Frigates moved in to open fire on enemy support craft.
3 Star Destroyers opened fire, targeting Celestial City.
The Omen began preparing the Axial Canon to fire.
The Invictus Armada dropped out of hyperspace in the quadrant Southwestern to the shipyards to engage Admiral Angellus' Battlegroup Beta.
12 Strike Frigates moved in to open fire on enemy support craft.
3 Star Destroyers opened fire, targeting Battlegroup Delta.
The Invictus began preparing the Axial Canon to fire.
The Omen Armada [Engaged]
The Omen (Battlecruiser)
3 Star Destroyers
1 Cruiser (7 squadrons of Heavy Starfighters)
7 Strike Frigates
1 Sith Spherecraft
The Invictus Armada [Engaged]
The Invictus (Battlecruiser)
3 Star Destroyers
7 Strike Frigates
1 Sith Spherecraft
The Harbinger Armada [Reserve]
The Harbinger (Battlecruiser)
3 Star Destroyers
1 Cruiser (7 squadrons of Heavy Starfighters)
7 Strike Frigates
The first part of the ritual was complete, it was therefore time to give way to a new burst of more variable energy. A'Mia shifted subtly, the ship groaning with her, as she slipped from the twilight of false sleep into battle meditation. All at once her metaphysical body unfurled like a massive net being cast out 360 degrees around her. The effort and energy this took would not have been possible for her some weeks ago, but now? The power of the orchid was bound to her will, and her Lord Master lent his strength.
Her once static form suddenly creaked and twisted: vines entwining ancient Sith artifacts tightened around their edges, thick knotted roots punctured through carefully laid harvests of corpse grown crystals, and as her body seemed to heave with an outpouring of energy, the dark tendrils of her mind raced outward.
A'Mia was no longer confined to her body, no longer a singular entity adrift in the vast stormy vacuum of space. The Neti was suddenly expansive, her minds eye vast and all seeing within the darkness of countless surrounding leagues of open battlefield. Battlecruisers and bombers alike were dwarfed within the map that now lived within her. There was no telling how long she could hold the effect so she would need to act fast. . . The urgency she felt was immediately quelled when Darth Caedes stepped fully into the ritual circle. It was as if his presence stopped all meaningful sense of time, together their power was limitless.
Dark tendrils of psychic energy reached out to waiting Jen’quazoi and used them as anchor points. She had unfurled a massive blueprint schematic upon a metaphysical landscape and was now using her allies, as well as their minions, as paper weights to keep the huge ideological piece of parchment in place. Where comms, navigational systems, and even eyesight were now faulty or downright useless, A'Mia had become a beacon through which millions of leagues of open space could be accurately sensed.
The mental map grew clearer still, deep wells of darkness pinning the ethereal document in place. The Dead God at Escobar warped that area with his ritual and amassed energy in much the same way a supermassive black hole bends spacetime. So too did the universe seem to buckle where A'Mia and her Master's combined energy lay, indeed Elmindra's presence was much the same. All told, those Sith machinations laid out in such stunning schematic form would boggle the imagination of all who weren't experiencing it for themselves.
No longer a singular being, but many fractal expressions of self which existed innumerable places at once, A'Mia acted on several instincts in tandem. Where Caedes had set himself down in meditation, creeping vines began to encircle him and create a protective bower. Smaller, mycelial tendrils crept up his back, over his robe to seek the skin of his neck.
The care with which they moved might almost appear cautious, tender even, were the scene not so macabre and A'Mia actually capable of compassion. Dozens of those seeking tendrils delicately pierced the nape of Darth Caedes' neck to slither visibly beneath his skin, seeking occipital nerves and ears alike. Connecting student and teacher's senses so they could be one.
As that was happening, A'Mia reached spectral branches out to infect ongoing warfare with yet more madness. Like so many billions of spores released on the wind, the Neti loosed a sickening and cloying malaise that would cling to any organic matter within her reach. Those trained and strong in the Force might resist, but thousands upon thousands of hapless laypeople caught within her radius would not be so lucky. All those unprotected by powerful darkness were likely to fall victim.
The crew of The Outcome for instance was a ripe target for such psychic intrusion, so A'Mia doubled down her efforts on that sector of the map. Her fell touch brought with it a terrible malaise: paranoia, existential doom, and even vivid hallucinations which painted fellow crew members as violent opposition instead.
"They've really gone all in on this ritual, haven't they?"
Kahlil let out a bemused sound as his fleet dropped into real space. He looked to his second, simply giving them a nod. "It's not all Force based, it feels. Technology, of course. Leave it to the Sith to create big storm clouds in space. Be warry of what's hiding in them, and spread the fleet to their positions. I'll be ready for them." At once the Epicanthic fleet spread across the battlefield, each making their way to far corners seemingly away from the battle, but very much around the storm cloud. They'd settle in position without engaging, though clearly ready to defend themselves if they were in turn engaged.
The Shield made his way into a meditation chamber he'd brought specifically for this and settled down into a seated position. He took a breath as he smiled, and listened. As the chamber sealed, he let himself fall into the embrace of the Force. As promised, he would handle the esoteric. With one final exhale he'd pull on the Force, and the Epicanthic fleet would flare to life. Runes he'd carved into them flashed, and all at once the Light would bathe the outer edges of the storm. He'd taken inspiration from Exegol, to create something not quite as offensive, but something very defensive.
A shield of Light to protect the Alliance from the machinations of the Sith. A beacon to keep them from succumbing to the madness of the Dark. So long as the runic circle he'd created through his placed ships wasn't disrupted at least.
It didn't take long to find the two Jedi that were making the push into the internal defenses of the shipyards. One of them was a beacon of the light, exuding it into the Force for all to sense and rally around if they were inclined. The other was a smaller light in comparison, an apprentice of her own even as Taeli approached with Zarava. To see the Grandmaster of the New Jedi Order and a younger man that could only be her son at the end of the corridor... it was an interesting experience.
There would be a slow approach as two Masters sized each other up, studying their opponent for this battle. She knew, from Kaine's fights with Valery Noble, that she was more the Battlemaster to her husband's Sage. Even her current stance, blade already prepared for battle and having fought to this point already, spoke of how she would likely carry herself. An analytical gaze marked that she kept shifting her blade stance and grip, likely to keep Taeli guessing about what she might use.
"I'll have to respectfully decline," she replied to the offer of surrender, unclipping her own lightsaber from her belt. A blade of crimson would ignite from it. "The wife would be very cross with me if I ended up in an Alliance prison, not to mention the family."
Plus, there were Morrigan and Jaqara to consider and Taeli was not going to miss that. The patch on her heart would pulse slightly at the thought.
"I offer you the same though. Surrender and I'll allow you to leave this battlefield without difficulty."
You know that light that flashes before your eyes before you die?
That's our targeting reticles.
For anyone that wants to read it, The Angellus family history to this point Is here. Angellus Ewan Isaacs - CAG/SCAR Teams CO LCaptain Halpern "Celestial City CO" Captain Zev Tantor "Silver City" CO Captain Rojuh Pouil "Valhalla" CO Captain Scott Pouil - Flight Director 5th Fleet Chief Gribbs - NCOIC 5th Fleet.
[ANY COMMUNICATIONS INSIDE THESE BRACKETS ARE THE RESULT OF COMMS COMMUNICATION] Fleet Information - Click Signature unless otherwise directed
SECTOR: Sluis
ORDERS: Take down defenses and secure shipyards
WINGMATES: @Amelia Von Soren | Kahlil Noble
| Valery Noble
ENGAGING: @Darth Empryan | Darth Caedus | Darth Assimilus
| Michael Hightower Elmindra Xitaar
| Madrona A’Mia
| Avel Som
We can, but they’re trying to force our hand. I want to force theirs first.
See… that’s why you’re the Admiral… we’ll get this done quick…
It’s going to take a lot more than this, but … we have more tactics and resources… After no more than three quiet seconds, he pressed a button on his command table, pulling up his group commanders Zev Tantor and Rojuh Pouihl. They each gave quizzical looks.
I already know Gym’s answer. Either of you ever been in a high stakes Sabbacc game?
They each gave an answer of “No”. Waiting for his explanation.
You spend the first few hands waiting to learn their “tells”. Then you can begin to play… reroute non-essential power to maneuvering thrusters, weapons and shields… There was confusion, even from Halpern, but they all knew that Angellus had a plan in mind. Once he had gotten confirmation from each of them he smirked and extended his right index finger.
As if on cue…
“CONN Tactical! Sith battle groups dropping in behind us, and Battlegroup Beta!” Shouted the Tactical Department supervisor. Zev was getting the same confirmation.
[Are you sure you don’t have the Force in you?]
They wanted to force our hand… we forced theirs… Focus fire on their Star Destroyers. Get our fighters and bombers time to set up and start runs. Get “Delta” moving into that fog. If the Sith want them so bad, they’ll have to follow them in.
As the impromptu meeting cut off and the ships and officers committed to their orders, the Sith cruisers were moving into better positions.
“Sir! They are moving into staggered positions running intersecting fields of fire,”
Smart, they’re not letting us pitch an Ackbar maneuver…
Let’s do so anyway. Focus heaviest fire on the center of their trio… get “The Silver City” to do the same.
What if they don’t move?
Captain, I had a hand in designing both carriers, we’ll take damage if we ram them but it will be mainly cosmetic.
The next few minutes were a blur of orders. The attacking strike frigates were being targeted by the mobile “Sovereignty” heavy attack fighters using their payloads to throw the frigates into chaos while the escorts were able to move into better position. The Warpigs would follow with their heavier firepower, enabling more freedom of movement. The X-Wings were the air superiority fighter and in a friendly competition with the Capital A-wings in engaging Sith fighters, however the X-wings were also engaging the frigates as well. The frigates would not incur a break though as they would have to also deal with the AMF Y-wings who were dropping their own weapons on them on their way to engaging the Star Destroyers.
The only “fighters” that are directly and primarily engaging the Star Destroyers are the “Super-Angel” and “Seraphim” Interceptors, their secondary targets being fighters. These Interceptors do not identify purely as “fighters” or “bombers” or “attack” or even “fighters” they are miniature “gunships” you might say. They focused fire on the bridges and most critical systems.
All fighters and bombers utilized only one speed, “attack” speed”. Their intersecting attack lines and blaster heavy weaponry allowed for them to keep their ordinance aside for the better lines they would get into.
Battlegroup Ceti was open in their availability and were cleared to do so, so they moved at full speed to engage and assist “Beta” where possible while providing cover for those under the direction of the Jedi Council Member Kahlil Noble
As both “The Celestial City” and “The Silver City” moved in hard on the enemy emplacements, an unknown tactic came about that seemed to be advantageous to the Fleet. The Falanks systems, designed as “defensive” cannons, activated once they were close enough in proximity to Sith vessels. The Rotary cannons started to fire out slugs in destructive numbers, their targets being the Sith Star Destroyer armor to either the Port or Starboard side of either carrier. There was no need to target, the “proximity alert” did that for them.
That is not to say that the carriers did not take damage, the weaponry of the Invictus disabled the starboard launch bay of “The Silver City” as well as the starboard side missile launchers. That only drove Captain Pouil to order more intensity from the Torpedo launchers wanting the Sith to “eat some Broadsword”(class torpedo). “The Celestial City” was relishing the rerouted non-essential power to shields as Halpern put them in front of the smaller escorts and she was down to 38% shields with damage to port side repulsors. She was holding her own though. Both carriers looked like they would indeed end up “right on top” of the enemy Star Destroyers. Meaning they could either move into more open firing lanes or risk hitting each other. An Akbar slash… with a twist.
S.E.R.A.P.H.I.M.
Yes, sir.
Are you able to be in contact with the Skycranes?
One moment… it is … spotty… sir… but with the manner in which they have been arranged, I am able to. Yes.
If any Sith vessels move in to engage them, I want their reactors overloaded. In fact, no… If any come even close enough I want them you to maneuver them into an intercept course at maximum speed and then overload their reactors.
Sir, is it your intent to destroy the Skycranes?
Intent if necessary, but not my desire.
I understand.
Inside the storm, Battlegroup Delta was moving along a pre-determined line and sticking to it. They had lost several gunships and stealth fighters to lightning strikes but those were not destroyed, merely incapacitated. They were unaware of the summa-verminoth until they saw it out of their viewports (that was the only way they were able to keep track of each other as well. The Revelry cruiser was closest to its tentacles and fell victim all but immediately, taking immediate damage. The Battlegroup was moving at attack speed so it would be difficult to turn and engage but they were all prepared to until the “coded message” of the ship firing all of her weapons in the direction they were already heading. That was a message to “continue the mission”. There was nothing that they could do for their compatriots but keep moving.
They eventually would exit the storm in a soup of enemy ships. All flying and honing in on them but they were also prepared and moved into their pre-determined orders. With communications and sensors back up the Cherub gunships were able to engage the hunters as well as stealth fighters. Hunters were not the only targets of the stealth fighters though as Oblivion and Reaver groups. Their stealth capabilities would be stretched to their ultimate capabilities in this fight. The Avalon and The Stellar both started receiving heavy fire, taking immediate bow damage as they moved in on the two earliest airlocks they could find (1 and 2) weapons still firing. The SCARS would board and try to lead the way in, but this was a game for the Marines.
Battlegroups Alpha, and Beta turn and engage attacking forces.
Battlegroup Ceti is moving at full speed to assist Beta and engage Star Destroyers while covering Noble’s fleet
Celestial City and Silver City both using long range heavy guns directly on the middle Star Destroyer (not assuming either are “The Omen” or “The Invictus” but if they are… well…) while drawing fire away from the Heavy Cruiser
All X-wings (78) target Sith fighters and strike frigates
Seraphim and Super-Angel Interceptors (138 total) engaging Star Destroyers(primary) and fighters (secondary)
Capital A-wings (42) engage fighters
AMF Y-wings engaging all Strike frigates and Star Destroyers
All fighters moving at attack speed.
Fleet AI (S.E.R.A.P.H.I.M.) has standing orders that if any Sith vessels move to engage the Skycranes an intercept course at ramming speed is to be plotted and executed.
Consitutional shields at 63% Moving to engage strike frigates. Followed by the Warpigs
All 10 squadrons of remaining Elysian class Strike fighters (87 total), all 10 squadrons of Carcharodon Strike Fighters (72) are going in at full attack speed flying cover for the remainder of the 10 squadrons of Jackal Class Starfighters (piloted by SCAR Group) (86) to hit and board the shipyards. Their purpose is to secure as many airlocks as they can. (1 and 2)
Elysian class Strike fighters (87 total) engage The Oblivion Cohort and Reaver Group, at attack speed using heavy “hit and run” tactics.
[*]Carcharodon Strike Fighters (72) engage Escobar, Reaver Group, and “last line of defense” hunters using attack speed and stealth capabilities.
SCARs move to ditch and enter airlocks 1 and 2 those who cannot are boarding Sith vessels of the Oblivion Cohort
Battlegroup Delta and all Cherub transports running at full attack speed into and through the storm not stopping until they exit regardless of who they run by or into.
[*]Revelry Cruiser took heavy damage (68% operational) from a summa-verminoth in the storm.
[*]Stellar and Avalon firing blindly “best guess” targeting said beast.
[*]Upon exit from the storm, Stellar and Avalon launch Cherub gunships and Warpig CAS fighters.
[*]All Cherub gunships engaging Hunters
[*]Stellar moves to dock with airlock 1 (weapons firing at defenses)
[*]Avalon moves to dock with airlock 2 (weapons firing at defenses)
[*]Once docked both/either ship releases all Marines aboard.
He was quite certain that she'd be feeling this, no matter how good the Matukai were when it came to minimizing the impact of the force upon their physical self, Credius' force lightning amplified by both his mutation, his rage and his pain was something perhaps only those who had transcended the very physical realm itself could just ignore...and even then. However, as his unnatural, inhuman crimson eyes gazed down upon the suffering stranger, she did the impossible...she actually made a calculated move.
A pain coursed through the very core of his being, a pain he hadn't felt before or not in such a manner, a searing heat coursed through his veins, boiling his very blood as it were, feeling as if it was literally charring his flesh, boiling his skin underneath his armor. His skin started to writhe underneath his armor, responding to the metal and armorweave heating up to temperatures never meant to be felt within his very armor. The first thing to fall to the ground in a heap of molten slag was the man's mask, revealing something which must have been surprising, as what could be seen now; was the face of a human male, perhaps not that much above thirty years in physical age, but as the heat continued, parts of that face began to redden and blister.
"You...insufferable fool," The words were surprisingly calm, despite the sounds of him grunting as his armor began to warp, the heat forcing the crystals in his gauntlets to shatter and splinter. He still looked down upon the stranger, still standing firm as the lightning combined with the heat was now coursing through both their bodies, ravaging both warriors, both masters within the force and revealing the inhumanity of both Ever Dawnracer and the monstrous Credius Nargath
. "One such as yourself should not readily throw their life away... it would be a pity to lose someone from who I could learn so much and someone who I could teach so much more."
As his armor started to break down, falling to the ground around them, the abomination within the Force was revealed in his most naked and thus most natural form, every part of his body where the searing heat had caused blisters and charring turning a sickeningly black with a glistening black substance, the mutation which had caused his hunger, the wicked result of being infected with the Blackwing plague and pumping himself full of viral suppressants to try and stave off the infection had turned a once human sith into a being beyond humanity and beyond the limits of a normal mortal, maybe not a god, but certainly an inhuman monster of the highest order.
As the heat continued, the lightning still coursing through both bodies and their flesh continuing to act as an unbroken conduit for it, the monstrous man realized that despite the excrutiating pain they both were undoubtedly going through, neither he, nor the stranger had released their hold on the Genesis blade.
Grunting from the intense pain and stress he was under, Credius suddenly lunged his free hand towards the now helmetless stranger, reaching for her face as he allowed his force lightning to end and the remaining strength he could muster would be used to allow him to dig deep within her mind, shattering every resistance by implementing the one thing no one could avoid, the one thing not even he could ignore...fear.
He would attempt to drown her in memories of her past, twisting them and enacting those twisted visions upon her mind, trapping the young woman in a vicious cycle of death and despair, but he wasn't finished, he would grant her images, nightmares that would only have him in them; his dark aura would penetrate into her mind and allow her to see the pain and the suffering the monster had gone through himself, from attempts to save people in vain, the time he murdered the only woman who he had ever loved and how a force ghost pat his shoulders when he wept with her corpse in his arms, shards of his memory flowing into her own, showing her the pain he had suffered through when he got infected with the blackwing plague, how he staved off his hunger for decades, how he got stuck in the nether for what seemed to be centuries and eventually, she'd just see him in his armor and his mask on within her mind, reaching out to her with his hand. "You have my attention, you managed to hurt me and teach me a valuable lesson... you are given a choice. You can come to me on The Redoubt...either to finish what you have started...or to gain insight into the true nature of the Force and the intricacies that come with it."
In real time, Credius would look down on the stranger, hoping that she would find herself stuck in the implanted memory and imagery loop, it was his last resort bar from attempting to completely kill her and because of what he had experienced and learned from this strange, yet interesting warrior...he did not wish to kill her just yet, she might prove to be useful and one of keen intelligence did not disregard things that were useful. With a sigh, he hoped that with her mind stuck in that loop, he could retrieve his blade and could perhaps put her aside and cover her with one of the cloaks of the destroyed droids before having a dark mist appear behind him in order to allow him to vanish from sight...
It was terrible pain. Burns across her body. Lightning coursing through her veins. Fire raging. Some of the slag from his burning armor landed upon her naked flesh, causing her to cry out even as she continued to maintain her hold upon him. She wasn't going to die. Serious injuries, for sure, but death wasn't coming for her. Not yet. Even if it had she would have embraced it. Sometimes death was the final solution. Given their nature as finite beings that, upon death, went into the Force, she had little fear of losing her life. When she died, she would be somewhere better and the troubles of the galaxy would no longer be hers. But not yet. She couldn't die until she knew the monster did, too.
"Being insufferable is what makes me good at what I do," she said between sobs.
Speaking was hard. Fighting to keep her temp elevated, holding onto his blade and body, and bearing the electricity made it hard to do anything. It was not a situation in which she could last forever and it seemed they both knew this fact. Knowing the limitations of ones own body was imperative to a soldier, but so often people assumed they could go on forever. Or they forced their body past its limits. Many fell this way, succumbing to weariness rather than enemy combatants. A Matukai would never allow that to happen to themselves. They would push tirelessly, and then withdraw once they had to. But they could outlast many, and she fully intended to outlast him.
He, however, had other plans.
Without a meditation band, she had little resistance to his mental attack upon her, especially with the current strains. Instantly her mind was assaulted with all of the painful memories. The things she'd seen. The things she'd done. Those she'd lost. Those she'd killed. The loss of her father, so twisted by his machinations that she could barely stomach it.
"Papa-"
And then the visions of him. Of what had made him the way he was. Pain. Suffering. A plague. The things he did to fight it off. The way it mutated his body into what he now was. These things she would remember. Then: the words.
The words that reverberated in her brain. She wanted them to go away. She tried to scream in her head to make them stop, but he kept speaking. A place. He mentioned a place where she could find him. A place she would find him eventually, but her mind was shutting down. It was too much. With the aches of her body and the mental assault she could not go on any longer, and her body collapsed, which did allow him to lay her aside and cover her with the cloak to preserve her modesty, something she would have thought beyond him. And there she lay, unconscious but alive, her body temps having fallen to normal, though her body would be forever scarred from their fight.
CAPTAIN PAL VEDA THE RUBICON YT-2400
OBJECTIVE I: Save some civilians!
TAGS: Katarine RyiahAiden Porte
”Watch that there —“ he pointed toward the radar screen, “and watch what’s out there—“ he pointed out the viewport from the cockpit, “and tell me if someone‘s comin’ for us before they start shootin’. Easy enough, Moose?” Pal had already embraced the nickname bestowed on the new kid by the elder Jedi. Not waiting on a response, he added, “Time to shine,” pulled back on the hyperspace lever, and watched the tunnel of light disappear as they entered real space just next to the starships of Battlegroup Ceti.
The chaos ensuing before him was a little jarring, even for a seasoned space warrior like himself. “They may have actually undersold this,” he commented, immediately cutting portside and navigating away from the incoming fighters making a run at the nearest battleship. He wanted so badly to engage, but that wasn’t his job today. Get these two Jedi and their men to the ground and save the people of Sluis Van.
Captain Veda pushed the thrusters, driving the modified YT-2400 toward the planet. As he flew, the mega storm began to . . . Lift? Be pushed back? He had to admit, this anomaly had him a bit stumped. Whatever was happening, the newly appearing light created a somewhat safe route to follow. The only problem was fighters approaching on their six o’clock, trying to end their run past the blockade.
“Hey boys, now’s the time to start pullin’ those triggers!” he ordered the troops on the cannons, and boy, did they. PEW! PEW! PEW! PEW! The big guns roared to life. But where were the BOOMS!? Amateur hour. And now the two fighters had split, giving them multiple angles of attack.
Pal looked at his co-pilot, then at the elder Jedi. “I’ve got an idea.“ He then turned to his astromech. “Power to shields!”
He sharply pulled the ship starboard, proceeding through the wall of light and into the edge of the storm. Debris littered the space before him, some of it intentional jetsam and flotsam to prevent this exact sort of maneuver, some of it pieces of fighters and frigates that met their end just minutes earlier.
Come on Captain. This is what they pay you for. He expertly dodged and weaved through the larger chunks of durasteel and litter while leaving his shields to protect them from the smaller pieces. The two fighters stayed close, slipping back into a tight formation to minimize damage to their barely shielded hulls. What the kriff is that?
Seems they had found this fabled space monster. A summa-verminoth. He had only ever seen one once before, and he had hoped then he would never have to see one again. Hope springs eternal.
Pal pulled up on the controls and turned the disc-shaped Corellian ship vertically, barely climbing above the flailing tentacle and sliding between two pieces of a freighter that had recently been sliced in half. The second fighter managed the same maneuver, but the lead was not quick enough. An electrified tentacle batted it from its path, sending the fighter spinning out of control into the abyss.
In truth, Captain Veda was mostly flying on instinct at this point. They could barely see in the darkness, and the instruments were going a bit haywire. He wasn’t sure if he should trust his eyes or his sensors, but he did trust his gut. He turned the Rubicon back horizontally then attempted an O-loop to pull behind his enemy. By now, the pilot of the remaining fighter would be more lost and disoriented than Pal, and he would use that to his advantage.
As he circled up then made the loop, he heard the lower cannon come back to life, and the small ship exploded before him. He’d almost forgotten about his gunners at this point. “Nice shot, kid” he yelled through the comm.
The Rubicon continued its descent through the darkness, finally breaking out just above the atmosphere of Sluis Van. A clear shot to the capital city from here. He realized his teeth were still clinched and let out a light chuckle and sigh as he began to relax again. “Just another day,” he said jokingly, guiding the ship the short distance to the surface and bringing it down in a half abandoned spaceport in the target area.
Valery's expression hardened as Taeli declined her offer, the tension between them palpable. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing the inevitable clash that was about to unfold. "I expected nothing less," Valery replied, her voice steady as she readied herself. It was unfortunate that they were forced into this encounter, but she was determined to be decisive today. The Alliance had to capture these shipyards.
With a quick glance at her son, she nodded subtly, signaling their next move. An instant later, Valery launched herself forward, her violet blade sweeping through the air with a fierce hum. She closed the distance between them with a speed and grace that spoke of her years of experience, each movement precise and purposeful.
Calculated to bring down the Sith Lord.
Her first strike came with the force of a tidal wave, aimed at testing Taeli's defenses. Valery's saber cut through the air, a blur of light as she pressed the attack, each strike flowing seamlessly into the next. She maintained a fluid, unpredictable pattern, shifting her stance frequently in an attempt to force Taeli on the defensive. It was clear that she intended to push the Sith Lord back, to overwhelm her with relentless pressure.
Not to break through alone, but also to provide her son with an opening. While young, Aris was a fine duelist already, and their bond made it far easier to coordinate. They understood each other in the heat of battle, and that relationship would now be tested against one of the Galaxy's fiercest Sith Lords.
Golden-yellow hues peered into the darkness of the void, the emptiness between the two fleets kept them separate for the moment, yet it would soon be closed. Her smirk remained, her fangs revealed as her attention shifted and once more focused on the holographic images of the two fleets that were projected before her from the Crown of Stars. Her hands remained clasped behind her back as she watched quietly, keeping an eye on the enemy's movements as her ears perked up, a voice calling from behind her drawing her attention momentarily.
"Ma'am, it appears that the Sith have created some kind of Storm around the Shipyards."
Amelia nodded quietly as she slowly turned her head towards the large viewscreen before her. Rocking back on her heels for a moment, she brought her hands forward, resting them together in front of her as she bowed her head for a moment. There had been plenty of strange things that she'd seen throughout her extensive life, and yet, something like a storm in space should have drawn more attention or cause for concern. However, this was not the case, not for the woman who seemed to embody a stern focus on the task at hand as she slowly brought her head up and permitted her steely gaze to fall upon the expanse of inky darkness that lay before them.
"Our focus remains thus upon the fleet arrayed before us. The storm and any dealings with the Sith and their Rituals will remain in the capable hands of the Jedi and their apprentices."
Slowly bringing her hand up, her fingers seemed to carefully cup and caress the holographic image of one of the Destroyers of the Sith fleet before she carefully and slowly closed her fist around the image. Her smirk seemed to only grow as she felt a strange familiarity slowly pouring into her form, an old emotion she'd not felt in some time. It brought forth a smile, her focus sharpening as her golden-yellow eyes began to slowly shift as excitement and fear began to swirl and mix within her, into a brilliantly intensive, vibrant blue.
"Supreme Command von Sorenn to ANS Midnight, begin preparations to bring your HVs-2 online, tasking will be provided at my command. All War Drakes will deploy in a screening formation and support the Nebula Corvettes in intercepting those pods."
Amelia began to slowly pace back and forth, though it was not out of worry, no... Rather, it was as a predator who was being kept from a tantalizing prey by a singular pain of Transparisteel kept them from the guests beyond. Each turn was sharp, yet her attention never pulled or wavered as she once more took a singular stance, her eyes shifting between the holographic images as they began to move. If, no; when she came out of this on the other end, she needed to thank her old friend for the gift that had been provided. It was already proving to be a boon and greatly assisted in providing the woman with a clearer picture of the moving parts that made up the whole of the engagement.
As her focus deepened, she began to formulate her plan, the means to thrust forward and spear into the enemy formation. Amelia understood all too well what would happen if she just blindly pushed forward and attempted to slug it out with the enemy formation. She knew that she needed to isolate the enemy vessels, draw them, or force them apart and remove their Starfighter support.
"Deploy our Interceptor Squadrons to assist in screening those pods from the fleet and bring forward the Quasar Cruisers and support them with our Nova Cruisers to engage their skirmish line at range. All Bomber Squadrons are to form up, once we have our opening, they are to begin their bombing runs."
The woman slowly brought her hands behind her back once more, clasping them firmly as her smirk remained. It had been so long since she'd an engagement that caused her to feel as she did now. When was the last time? She found herself questioning; her memories slipping into her mind for a moment before just as quickly vanishing into the darkness. It had to have been during the height of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, though those days were long gone, and now, she stood against an entity that many of those old friends had found a home. She found herself smiling a bit more, feeling the strings of her heart being tugged at as she thought of those individuals that she'd stood next to that now she hoped she'd not have to stand against.
Assimilus could feel every movement of the phantom as if the monstrous appendages were his own limbs, the sensation of immense power surging through him. Each grasp, every swat, and all the devastation it wrought fed his satisfaction, a deep well of sadistic pleasure. Through the bond he had formed with the phantom, he experienced the sensation of tearing through ships, watching them rupture and spark as if through his own eyes. His consciousness stretched into the creature, his mind intertwined with the vastness of the Summa-verminoth's form.
But the strain was immense.
The more he pushed the phantom's rampage, the more taxing it became. Though his mechanical body stood unwavering, the strain weighed heavily on his mind—the last remnant of his organic self. Sweat did not bead on his brow, nor did his lungs ache from effort, but within his consciousness, a storm raged. The dark side ritual pulled and frayed at the edges of his sanity, each mental command he issued to the phantom requiring an ever-growing portion of his willpower.
As the Galactic Alliance ships closed in, some breaking through the shipyards' perimeter, the battle intensified. Assimilus could feel some of their turbolaser volleys graze the phantom. His control faltered as his mental reserves began to wane. The fatigue was not of body, but of mind—a burning exhaustion clawing at his thoughts, threatening to unravel his hold on the ritual.
He pushed harder, commanding the Summa-verminoth to thrash again. Another Alliance ship crumpled beneath its spectral tendrils, but the toll was too great. His vision blurred, no longer from any physical strain, but from the overwhelming mental pressure of sustaining the phantom. His consciousness felt as though it were stretching to the brink, like a taut wire ready to snap.
With a sudden lurch, his mind collapsed inward.
He was unconscious.
The Summa-verminoth, once so real and terrifying in its phantom form, vanished in an instant. One moment it was there—an unfathomable predator from the deep, wreaking havoc—and the next, it dissipated into thin air like smoke, as though it had never existed. The destruction caused by the phantom lingered, but its threat was gone.
