We Come For Booty (Dominion Dom of Chiloon Rift and Irn)

[Vaylin]

Location: Sarnus, Chiloon Rift - Outside the outpost, about to go inside
Objective: Fight.
Allies: Primeval - @Aria Vale [Nearby] | [member="Soryn Solimar"] [Incoming]
Enemies: Dominion - [member="Judas Foster"] [Nearby] | @Arisa Yune, [member="Rakieh Atur"] [Incoming]
Engaging: [member="Teresa Shan"]
Gear: Lightsaber | Armor

With some distance between them, Vaylin took the time to reflect and analyze. She was approaching this as if she were still on Dxun fighting a beast. It was bleeding into her habits against an opponent she was not familiar with. It wasn't even like she was facing a new creature - where she would be cautious and watch for how they moved, their tactics. Sure, she could do it now against Teresa, but this was also a person.

People were capable of being infinitely more unpredictable than any creature. Not quite as easy to pick up on patterns and habits, unless the person was inexperienced.

Case in point, when Vaylin saw the woman summon a lighter to her hand.

Everything in her head was yelling at her to just charge. Her bloodlust screaming to just charge at Teresa. But she paused, this was not the time to blindly run into something.

She remained stationary, lightsaber at the ready for whatever was coming next. When the fire ignited and began to circle the woman's hand, Vaylin just tilted her head slightly with a look that just said: seriously?

Her fingers drummed against her hilt, pondering whether it could be any use again fire. But didn't get long to think as her opponent began her charge. When the fire lurched out, Vaylin backed away initially - unsure what to do against a literal wall of fire. Vaylin made a split second decision when she just barely picked up the sound of a spinning lightsaber and threw herself at an angle to the right wall, arms held up in a protective manner, just as the woman's purple blade came spinning to the left. She slammed into the wall, just about passing through the flames that managed to burn across her left arm. Didn't manage to ignite it, but it blackened the armor and Vaylin knew it had burned her skin too.

Having passed Teresa, Vaylin quickly rolled and spun to face the back of the woman - just as she was finishing her slide and reclaiming her lightsaber.

Vaylin immediately ignited her lightsaber again and charged, keep her stance low and readying a low-handed slash of her blade - the burning pain in her left arm adding fuel to her anger and attack.

 

[Darth Ferus]

With [member="HK-36"] and [member="Causstik Rahn"] clashing against one another the Sith kept back to regain his breath. For almost this entire fight he had been forced to reacting to most situations.. Getting blown up, getting shot again and again. It was a nice reprieve, not being the one focused on. The shots that came his way were just an after thought, and he whipped his sword around to knock the plasma bolts away.
For now however, he did nothing but try to regain his composure.

 

[Boethiah]

Chiloon Rift - Cathedral ship

The transports received no trouble from the starship, and their landing remained that way.

The external airlocks remained accessible from the outside. Like most starships, a fail-safe would prevent decompression in the event of hull ruptures by activating an energy barrier. Said barrier doing little to prevent projectiles or people from entering, however, should a breach be made in the abnormally thick armour.

Large gun batteries dotted the exposed hull, and a massive superstructure ascended over the transports like a great citadel. Countless viewports lined the many floors, although all but a few were shuttered. For the area they've landed in, an artificial barrier maintained the starship's atmosphere and gravity. The front door--a large durasteel brick--remained unlocked and accessible via a nearby wall console; the push of a simple button.

Boethiah maintained her meditation, even as the priest returned with her things. Her body surrendered itself to his actions, an arm being raised as he latched a device to her wrist, falling back into place when he let go. Her imbued blade laid out in front of her, waiting to be wielded. These were the simple objects provided to her and once they had been the priest departed once more.

The young witch channeled the force to her side, and more and more the sound of footsteps running past her chamber in either direction echoed until they faded.

[member="Zaz Tal'Verda"] | [member="Dune Rhur"]

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

Obective: Help the fam do their thing--Distract the Homeboys
Enemies: [member="Cedric Grayson"] [member="Jessica Med-Beq"]
Allies: [member="Boethiah"] | [member="Nick Imura"] | [member="The Slave"] | [member="Antherion"]

Ardgal wasn't about to hit the space port. Nope, not by a country mile. That was child's play and an amateur move. Besides that, Ardgal wasn't into killing civilians or mass murder. Assassinations, on the other hand, they cost a lot extra and the Primeval hadn't paid him to do that. Nope, he was headed in a different direction, he was here to hit high priority targets. But it was nice to know that all--if not the bulk--of the Dominion's troops were holed up there. It would make this business a hellva lot easier.

Bottle necks weren't really an issue when you were driving tanks. With their horse power alone they could mow over any civilian building that stood in their way. It wasn't much of a problem since he was cruising through the suburban streets. The assault of the T3-Bs did some pretty nice damage, the blast hit the first rank and overwhelmed their shields, such an attack pretty much vaporized their existence into husks of flaming ash.

Ardgal folded his gloved hands, thinking of a tactical response, Virgil beside him began seething with rage. "They just fething killed our vode!"

"Good, then we will make sure their sacrifice is not in vain," Ardgal said calmly, "All Hellfires, traingulate that position, press forward."

There wasn't much left of that front row after taking 36 concussion missiles, I mean, its pretty hard to have anything left, so the RMIA convoy pushed through them to their target--the main power station. Now, everyone needed power, everything, especially in this economy, especially those massive anti-aircraft embankments. The entire city, including planetary defense shields, launch stations, the space station itself--all of the city, was linked to the power grid. No one ever really protected it, which was a shame because taking it out tended to be the easiest, if not most disabling thing a mercenary could do.

"Take it down," he ordered.

The Icarus tanks bombarded the power plant, their shells weren't able to level the building, but their guns was more than enough to disable the power station and cripple the city's power grid.

"Location triangulated," Virgil said, in control of her temper once more.

"Hit it," Ardgal ordered, "Destroy everything within a 2-block radius."

The heavy electromagnetic plasma cannons had more than enough power to do it, but Ardgal wasn't about to leave that to chance. Everything in that area would be glassed as the Convoy began to move towards their next target.

Forces:

Spoiler

Godkillers (in Sig)
Alpha Company (In sig)
98 Hellstorm Heavy Assault Tanks
98 Icarus-Class Anti-Aircraft Tanks
the Behemoth

 

[Ras'kala'han]

Location: Antherion's Stealth Interceptor
Objective: Make a Clean Getaway
Enemies: [The Dominion] [member="Vorian Adasca"], [member="Cedric Grayson"]
Allies: [The Primeval] [member="Lethia Morow"], [member="Moravian Zambrano"], [member="The Slave"], [member="Boethiah"], [member="Abraxas"]

As the airlock outer doors closed, then the inner opened, Antherion felt no shame or fear about collapsing to his knees, panting desperately at the sudden rush of fresh air. He had no interest in appearing strong, because even the mightiest Sith Lord couldn't swim in the vacuum of space without giving up a physical form. And he had no interest in becoming some kind of half-dead shadow.

In spite of that, the sorcerer kept a firm grip on the Seed, holding fast to it, like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood. Its power had dwindled to a mere faint persistence of darkness, but it still held its corrosive, darkening power. He steadied himself, standing straight, further regarding the curious man who he did not trust, but was certainly fascinated by.

"Sir." The droid was instructed to only speak up in cases of extreme import, so Antherion listened. ."We have received a warning. 15 seconds to surrender and negotiate, or they open fire."

Antherion did not speak. He did not move. Rather, he plunged himself into the Force, traveling deep into the recesses of his mind, where time flowed as it needed to flow. And there, centered in that moment, he pondered.

If we do surrender, we will be put in a tractor beam and disarmed. The best we can hope for is imprisonment. However, even if we cloak, the hail of blaster fire from the Acerbitas could easily annihilate us. If we try to fire the hyperdrive, we get caught in a tractor beam and the stress tears us to pieces.

It seems the only option is to surrender. But I will never be locked away like a creature in a cage.

The Dark Side adept would purse his lips, but he was in a purely mental bubble of extended seconds. And even then, time had not stopped, and he was running out.

"We surrender. Bring us in." Then, he turned solemnly to Abraxas, a spark of evil intent in his eyes. In the space between two minds, plans were made and whispered. It was time to prepare for their next course of action.

 

[Catalys Maijora]

The Acerbitas

Catalys dropped behind Thengil's men, using them for cover as he slipped through the maintenance corridors of the star destroyer; avoiding locked rooms that sheltered who knows what.

"Move swift but carefully." He ordered the handful of men deployed with him.

Four soldiers towed on invisible tendrils, following each one of the Umbaran's movements with coordinated precision. They were an elite squad of hardened veterans, former Golden Banner warriors who have since thrown their old loyalties in the name of something greater: Power. Wealth. A future.

They knew the drill, too. Anyone stalls? Left behind. Anyone isolated? Left behind.

Slung tightly to his back, the incapacitator shook slightly with each bound down a hallway. The rest carried standard issue blaster rifles with eyes constantly fixed on their surroundings.

[member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Vorian Adasca"] | [member="Abraxas"] | [member="Antherion"]

OOC: I meant to post earlier when Thengil had landed. I have no intentions of interrupting anyone's personal duels, but feel free to send opposition at your discretion.

 

[Judas of Vahl]

Location: Sarnus, Chiloon Rift
Allies: The Dominion - [member="Teresa Shan"]
Foes: The Primeval - [member="Aria Vale"], [member="Vaylin"]
Gear: See signature.
Music: This Is Why We Bleed

Judas moved metaphorically at the speed of sound.

The Force seeped into him, danced around the taut cords of muscle that laced his bones. He felt so good, felt so damn alive! This was where he belonged. Neck-deep in the poodoo with adrenaline and other chemicals flooding his body, with the drums of war beating deep within his chest. There was no equivalent to warfare itself, and there was no equivalent to Judas himself.

Even this child.

The second he witnessed her managed to back away from his charge with a tower shield, he was astounded, just for a moment. A sure and swift death had awaited her and she'd just avoided it as if it were nothing. Then that spark of fire caught his gaze. With the twitch of a finger grasping the shield, the trio of Arkanian dragons' heads exploded with their own explosive flames. Raising the shield and lowering his head as he did so, Judas deftly survived the searing encounter with only a few singed hairs.

The moment the flames halted their eruption, Judas pulled back swiftly. Agile feet sent him a few feet backwards where he leveled himself in a defensive stance akin to that of an ancient legionnaire. Shield steady as a wall and sword poised to strike.

"You will die on this rock." The man snarled.

 

[Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax]

Location: Sarnus, Chiloon Rift
Allies: [member="Judas Foster"]
Foes: The Primeval - [member="aria vale"], [member="Vaylin"]
Gear: Revan's Robes, Revans Lightsaber

As she slowed down in her slide she'd quick rush to her feet. Taking hold of the hilt that had come back to her palm she used the new momentum of her hand to continue in a flow into a twist. Before Teresa could continue her attacks she had immediately been put on the defensive.

Swinging her blade low she had stopped the strike short of her thigh but close enough to feel the heat given off from the woman's blade. Her hand would ball up into a tightly formed fist and swung towards the zebracks cheek. Doing so would slacken her defence enough for the woman's blade to touch her thigh for a moment. The sneering pain made her teeth clentch hard together pushing out the masseter.

After the punch and the woman's saber touching Teresa's leg she'd jump back creating a little distance between them. She didn't regret the punch, but she realised that the risk could have caused her to loose a leg. Much worse her life. She needed to think fast. Think of a strategy. Shadows was where she was the best from. She needed to lure this woman somewhere it was dark.

Her saber would unignight before she clipped the hilt to her side. A hand would also come to her face taking off the mask letting her hair black and red hair fall onto her face as she proceeded to clip that onto the back of the belt. Eyes snapped into the woman with a faint smile creeping to the corners of her lips. Teresa opened both plans flat facing them to the floor. Soon cracks in the concrete floor would show getting thicker and deeper. In this moment she was vulnerable but if the woman struck the added weight would cause them both to fall a level down.

In one last quick motion each arm crossed over her chest as she jumped on the spot making the floor give way beneath her feet. It wasn't hard to know Teresa would be followed down. There was a feeling it was pride and challenge that was striving this woman who was also in physical pain.

 

[Darth Eversor]

Location: Antherion's Stealth Interceptor
Allies: [member="Antherion"] - The Primeval
Enemies: [The Dominion]
Gear: See Bio
Music: Vengeance


In what would only be a brief respite, Abraxas stumbled as he felt a solid surface beneath his feet, catching a nearby wall as he took in deep breaths to steady himself. Was escape finally at hand? The Dread Seed... its power wanes...

The intensity, the high of the Dark Side never faded from the Sith as he eagerly stared at [member="Antherion"] and the artifact he cradled like a child. The man was so adamant, so determined to protect this object as if it meant more than any life in the galaxy. But Abraxas did not blame him, for the power it held was more than enough to drive even the most civil of men into a frenzy of lust and bloodshed.

But then, even worse news dropped upon the ears of both the Sith and his wayward partner.

The Dominion was not through just yet, they demanded them to surrender.

Surrender... an unlikely action for the Sith.

Abraxas looked to the adept, the two simultaneously locking in a gaze of understanding without words needing to be spoken.

The Sith gave a deep, slow singular nod.

"We must." Were the only words to slip passed the warrior's lips and helmet. They following course of events were determine to the true success of the treacherous duo.

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Objective: Retribution, Confrontation
Moozik: DOW 3 Theme
Allies: [member="Xalus"], [member="Azalus"], [member="Atrina"]
Enemies: [member="Catalys Maijora"],[member="Antherion"], [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"], [member="Abraxas"]


"They've agreed." Cyrene's voice buzzed in Cedric's ear.

"As expected. Lock down this hanger section. I want all of our guests in one place." Cedric replied. He stood as a statue at his end of the hall, his gaze never leaving the Cathar. The red-cloaks took up ranks in such a way as to block passage deeper into the ship on either side of him. With them would come the handful of allies Cedric had called upon, his newly hired and well experienced guards: [member="Xalus"], [member="Azalus"].

The Acerbitas' tractor beam would reach out to take hold of [member="Antherion"]'s vessel upon compliance. It would slowly guide them toward the Star Dreadnought, but at a certain point, the beam would quit reeling them in. Instead, it would hold the vessel in place as best it could, attempting to keep the ship from having any autonomy of movement.

"Key me into the comms." There was a dull click as Cedric's comm would piggyback off the frequency of the Acerbitas. The signal would reach Antherion's vessel, so long as it was not denied.

"There is no surrender [member="Antherion"], [member="Abraxas"]. You've both proven yourselves weak-willed and ignorant, and the damage you have done must be responded to accordingly. You killed innocent men to save a corrupted artifact, and you crossed the Dominion. You crossed me." The Acerbitas' varied weapons would take aim at the traitors' vessel. Point defense cannons, turbolasers, and four of the heavy-turbos honed in on their target. "I do not forgive such trespasses." There was a pause, "I believed in you, if you even understand the feeling."

The voice was clipped and callous. Any traces of fondness the Archlord had held for the traitors was gone, but malice had not taken its place. It was the absence of emotion - the traitors would be afforded nothing aside from their sentence.

"Die knowing that your lives ended whilst trying to spread the end of this galaxy. You are my greatest disappointment." The comm was cut off, and the turbolasers opened fire on the likely inert vessel. Whatever happened after the volley was of no consequence to Cedric. He'd washed his hands of the whole affair with those final words. There were other matters to attend to.

The exchange had only taken about a minute or so, and in that time Cedric and his red-cloaks had begun to walk toward the intruders. There was no hurry to him. Each step was slow and methodical, every movement calculated to move in time with the thrum of the ship's engines.

"Apologies, I had to deal with a few errant friends," though his features were hidden by the steel visage of the Archlord's mask, Cedric sounded like he was smiling. "All the other routes leading from the hanger have been closed. We were on high alert when you came in my friend. Your people chose a very bad time to try and board my vessel."

Cyrene's voice chimed in through the intercomm. "Very silly."

The Archlord snorted. "I thought about venting the rooms your people occupied. You made enough of a show butchering unarmed crewmen. We really wouldn't be losing any of our people in the process, given how many you murdered, but I wanted to meet our guests face to face."

The youth came to a halt a few meters away from the Cathar and his entourage. The red-cloaks held their plasma rifles at the ready, eager to unleash their weapons upon the intruders with a simple nod from Cedric.

"The only way deeper into the ship open to you now is behind me," Cedric gestured toward the hall with a jerk of his thumb. "In which you'll find almost a hundred thousand sons and daughters of Ession, not including the 501st and her sister regiments. I don't know what your intentions were beyond sabotage, but then your friends have proven to be unimaginative and terribly predictable as well. This skirmish of yours is ending rather soundly, and even if I am killed, you won't get very far before Cyrene drains the corridor of oxygen."

The AI offered a simple chime of agreement in response.

"So, sir lion," The Archlord stared up at his guest, "I will ask you again: have your people stand down, or perish. I would rather hear your reasoning for all this, rather than cutting you down before you've had a proper chance to speak."

The bulk of the 501st's veteran company had assembled just beyond the doors that barred access from every other hall. Were these doors and their ample defenses breached, the intruders would likely find a few dozen warriors that could trace their service all the way back to the apprenticeship of [member="Darth Arcis"].

One might even begin to wonder if Cedric had allowed the strangers entry on purpose.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Leather stretched over her digits, creaking softly as she clenched and unclenched her fists in the form-fitting gloves, obscuring her fingerprints and hiding the different colouration of her hands. With a deft motion of her left index finger hooked the loose, elastic fabric encircling her throat and pulled it up over the bridge of her nose, further obscuring her facial features. She traced a hand along the sash that lined her midriff, running her fingers over the two lightsabres and checking their attachment.

With a quick turn, she faced the door and took two steps before halting. Her head snapping to the right and ember-eyes narrowing. Were they of use? Probably. What was the shame in taking them with her? There would always be time for testing toys.

She turned and strode over to the armoured box across the room, next to the screens she had formerly been surveying. Throwing the lid open, she let her eyes glide over the orbs within.

"Sonic? Probably for the better."

With a flick of her fingers one of the orbs jumped into her hand. She rolled it back and forth in her palm before letting it roll over her knuckles like the coin had before. They were amusingly shiny for incapacitating balls of sonic hurt. The Rattataki slipped it and three more into a bag and slung it over her shoulder before closing the lid haphazardly.

Moving towards the door, she shrunk her presence in the Force to molecular proportions and baked herself into the backdrop of obscurity. By now, it was as habitual to her as simply keeping one's mouth shut. She opened the door and threw one last glance into the room and the person who owned it, frozen in place by a spot of mental paralysis. She released the hold on her the moment the door closed behind her.

"-d that is what this one- What?"

The confused voice behind her brought a wicked smile to the Pale's lips as she stalked through the halls of the Cathedral. She felt so much chaos, distress and adversity, doubt, fear, and resolve, all permeating the air like a compound odour.

Host Lord, you have most glorious vessel. One of a Kind, I am sure.

She did not care if she was heard. Her mental call was like an echo for those who listened. Sourceless even in the Force, as spoken by a ghost.

[member="Boethiah"]

 

[Xalus]

Location: The Acerbitas, Irn
Allies: The Dominion - [member="Cedric Grayson"], [member="Azalus"], [member="Atrina"]
Foes: The Primeval - [member="Catalys Maijora"], [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"]
Gear: See bio.

Xalus wasn't here to remember Atrisia.

Xalus wasn't here to worship some god through holy conflict.

Xalus wasn't here to sow discord or chaos.

Xalus was here because someone paid him to be here.

The gen'dai stood stoicly with the redcloaks. Strange and mysterious warriors that served an equally strange warrior-king by the name of a Cedric Grayson. Xalus had no clue as to who he was or what he was all about, but he had paid in advance. Those were a lot of digits.

Fidgeting idly with the flechette launcher in his grasp, he merely waited for the turn of events to occur.

Opponents freak out, the battle ensues, Xalus wins, collect the other half of the payment, leave. In exactly that order.

 

[Atlas Kane]

Location: The Acerbitas
Allies: The Dominion, [member="Cedric Grayson"] - [member="[/FONT][/SIZE][FONT='times new roman'][SIZE=14px]Xalus[/FONT][/SIZE][SIZE=14px][FONT='times new roman']"]
Enemies: The Primeval, Those guys and/or gals on the Acerbitas, [member="[/FONT][/SIZE][FONT='times new roman'][SIZE=14px]Catalys[/FONT] [/SIZE][SIZE=14px]Maijora[/SIZE][SIZE=14px][FONT='times new roman']"] - [member="[/FONT]Thengi[/SIZE][SIZE=14px]l[/SIZE][SIZE=14px][FONT='times new roman'] Ri'Shajirr"]
Mewsicc: This Nice Arrangement


Azalus was leaning against the big guy. He was playing a little-used musical device that resembled a small, rectangular energy pack, that worked by blowing air into specific openings while covering bits of it on the other side. The song he was playing was one he played often before a battle. From time to time there was someone capable of playing the guitar too and they could do a fantastic duo rendition of the song, as the song wasn't too hard to play. This time, however, it was only him playing it. The instrument had a fairly haunting effect on its own, however, something that Azalus enjoyed hearing just before a battle, it reminded him of his own mortality, and that of his enemy.

It was rare that the Mercenary Gunslinger ever had to face his mortality. Usually, he was having too much of a blast, pun not intended, killing the guys he was paid to kill.Currently, however, he had this weird gut feeling as though something was off. It might be the creepy red-robed guys, it might be the guy paying him, who was giving off some bad Force Mojo, or it was the fact that he suspected the guy he was leaning up against might be a bit too annoyed and would rip his arm off just to get him to stop playing the instrument. He wasn't sure, but he relished in the tension his bad gut feeling created.

Thinking about it, it may also have just been the podpoppers in the Tatooine Gut Buster stew he had just prior to this assignment. The world would never know.

 

[Grace Darkson]

Location: Irnfall
Objective: Evacuate Civillians
Allies: Dominion ([member="Jessica Med-Beq"], Atrisian Guard 1st and 2nd Regiment, Sam [Bodyguard])
Enemies: [member="Ardgal Raxis"], Primeval
Music: Claim Your Weapon

As the last of the Civilians were sorted into the spaceport, Grace slowly walked towards the Front. The Primeval's armor, hired or otherwise, was leveling the city. Good to know they were still the same. "Sam, what do you have?" Her voice was weak, little more than a whisper as she snuck through the city.

"Tank crew just got taken out. Primeval forces retaliating at the anti-air replacements."

"Anti air?"

"They used them on the tanks." A small laugh escaped the Vahla as she crept forward. "So, what do you plan to do? You can't kill them all."

"No, but I can still fight them." She flipped a switch. "Lieutenant. What's the status on the evacuation?"

"Still working on it." His voice was strained, and she could hear what sounded like children crying in the background. "Ma'am, we want to fight. Not be glorified police."

That stopped her in her tracks. "Lieutenant, civilians are our first priority. If the Primeval get there, you are the most important Dominion forces on the Planet. Until then, hold there until we can get those refugees away. Any soldier who abandons their post will be assigned to Castle Bast as outside guards. Understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am." The captain understood. No one wanted to be outside on Vjun, espically when the rain started. She continued to move forward. The cult's armor was still moving forward. It needed to be slowed down more than the previous assaults were making. Time to try something stupid.

 

[TB-705]

The Acerbitas​

​

While the boy scrambled to address a half-dozen situations, Thengil idly examined the claws tipping his gauntlets. They glinted in the artificial light, lethally sharp. Time. He had time. All the time in the world. The more of it this Grayson spent hither and thither, the less these Ession remnants (Atrisian? No matter) spent focusing on [member="Catalys Maijora"] and his operatives.

Eventually, the attention returned to Thengil. The boy spoke. The Sith cocked his head at the words, one ear flicking.

Did I not tell him?

The boy hardly finished his words before Thengil moved, idleness proving the faux disregard of coiled adder as powerful thews flowed into a single bound, bringing the Cathar well within arm's reach. So close that the large mercenary [member="Xalus"] might find out just how truly deadly flechettes in an enclosed corridor could be... as would his employer.

One paw shot out, fingers curling, twisting empty air, and with an exertion of the Force the Sith sought to snap [member="Cedric Grayson"]'s right ankle. At the worst it might fracture bone. At the least it might give him a sprain.

[member="Azalus"]

Somewhere else, also aboard the Acerbitas: [member="Antherion"] | [member="Abraxas"] | [member="Vorian Adasca"]

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Allies: [member="Azalus"], [member="Xalus"],
Enemies:[member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"], [member="Catalys Maijora"]

Were Cedric an idiot, he might have been surprised by the expression of telekinetic force.

As things were, the youth's mind was eternally steeped within the tides of the Great Ocean. Every shift of her currents was felt intimately upon his psyche. At this distance, even the slightest ripple was felt like a tidal wave, washing over the Archlord's senses in such a way that it could never be ignored.

The talking was done. The doors had been sealed. The intruders were funneled into this tunnel, lest they wished to meet with the might of the legion. The stage was set as Cedric had wished it to be, and now it was time to put on the show.

The ripple became a wave, and that wave came as tentacle of ethereal power that reached out over the gap of the empyrean to encircle Cedric's anger. Force was applied, the muscle intend to strain, the marrow meant to shatter.

The barriers all trained force sensitives established around themselves in times on conflict were strained, but they were not broken. Pain shot up the leg like lightning, but the bone did not break. It was a pain of physical variety, and one that adrenaline did well to push to the back of Cedric's mind.
A dozen options flickered through his mind in the fraction of as second. Mentalism was the realm in which Cedric reigned as a lord, but delving into the powers promised by his calling would wait. No, there was a far simpler and more apt option at hand.

The Cathar had closed the distance. Cedric still carried his father's lightsaber in his hand. The blue blade hissed as it came to life, and Cedric wasted no time in the simple flick of his wrist. Though pain wracked his right limb, it served him no purpose. The blade was moved in a single stroke, one that intended to slice the Cathar's outstretched arm off clean at the upper forearm.

It was only right for Cedric to return the favor of pain, seeing as his guest had gone through the trouble of walking so close and holding out a limb so suggestively.

"I must thank you for acting exactly as we'd predicted. Welcome to our home lion. It's been so long since we've had guests." Cedric's voice came as a cold thing, though there was a strain to it. Perhaps the Cathar's telekinetic attack had done more damage than Cedric was willing to let on.

The red-cloaks needed no such urging to engage. They leveled their plasma rifles, and opened fire upon the Cathar's pack. The blobs of plasma hissed down the straight, narrow hallway in a line. The warriors had already established an efficient firing line upon the approach, and now fired past the Cathar methodically. They took no pleasure in the death they dealt, though there was a pride in the way they undertook their duties. The Cathar's barbaric mass needed to be culled, and the red-cloaks had no mercy for those that would harm their brothers.

Whatever [member="Azalus"] and [member="Xalus"] chose to do was up to them. Cedric was rather busy, and the red-cloaks were preoccupied. The Archlord hadn't hired them because they followed orders, after all.

 

[TB-705]

The Acerbitas​

​

Snap-hiss. Ah, the familiar sound.

A bar of azure fire erupted into existence, bright as a blue giant burning in the void's depths. Predictably, it swung toward the outstretched paw, forgetting the presence of the other.

The Cathar reacted with preternatural reflexes, second hand a blur. He caught the blade and wrapped his fingers shut around its glowing length. The crushgaunt's alchemical alloys defied the plasma sword. Sparks spat from their meeting in coruscating showers. The scent of ozone grew thick as in the midst of a storm. He held the blade fast with hideous ease, nearly double the human's weight, and all of it muscle.

Again, the human spoke.

A rumble rose in Thengil's chest, spilling out his mouth: laughter, dark and rich.

Dun Moch from an unversed cub. How wonderfully sinister.

"There's a darkness in you."

The Cathar's opposite fist rocketed forward, Sith-forged gauntlet hammering for the foe's helm. Bolstered by the exosuit and backed by nearly three hundred pounds, the blow would likely crack the plastoid helm, if not concave it outright. The face beneath might be bloodied, bruised, broken, or a mixture of all three. A stunning blow, but not a lethal blow.

All around them, battle erupted. Togorians died, cut down like rabid beasts. Those behind pressed forward, returning fire, moving to close the distance just as Thengil had done. Battle stripped away all masks and laid primal intent bare: kill or be killed. The purest state of being.

[member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Azalus"] | [member="Xalus"] | [member="Catalys Maijora"]

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Allies: [member="Azalus"], [member="Xalus"],
Enemies: @Catalys Maljora, [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"]
Objective: Mind Games

(Going to hold off on further posting to give Xalus and Azalus time to respond.)

A brow was lofted as the blade was caught by metal-laced claws. He had not expected the gaunts to be made of a material that could catch a lightsaber blow, but then such things were most certainly not unheard of. Still, he should have had the proper foresight.

The lack of it resulted in a fist crashing into his face. The helm he wore shattered upon the impact; absorbing most of the blow but certainly not all of it. Parts of the visor fell away in pieces, revealing a single gray eye and purple bruising upon pale flesh.

Cedric had been sent sprawling from the blow, only managing to douse his father's weapon before he hit the floor. The impact was hard, and he felt his limbs ebb with pain as his body came to a halt. Still, it was not a crippling blow, though the damage to his favored helm and his face was not negligible. The blow had most certainly hurt, and with that hurt came the instinctive rise to anger that any being felt after having violence wrought upon them.

With a mental gesture, he bid that emotional detritus away. Slowly he rose, the silver weapon inert in his gloved hand. The half of his visage that was now revealed to the Cathar centered on the intruder. The single eye narrowed with something akin to determination.

"There is a darkness in all things. To feel is to be sentient. It is the unfortunate reality of things that some individuals are both emotionally and intellectually immature. They justify their ignorance with promises of freedom and power: the toys of children, desires better left to lesser beings than to men of character. Such qualities encompass those that my people have defeated today." The words were laced with confidence that one might have decided was premature. To Cedric, however, the result was clear.

The traitors had been dealt with, the Sith and his ilk had done exactly as he had wished, the cultists on Irn were severely outnumbered and outgunned, and the Rift could be dealt with shortly. Lives had been lost, and they would most certainly be mourned, but the legions had been culled of the disloyal and the enemy had left its people out in the killing fields. A victory in the Archlord's mind.

The need to fire back with words was cast aside by the throbbing pain in Cedric's skull. It was a dull thing, but it was a constant. His face just hurt, and there was no technique or mantra that was going to stop that pain. Better to acknowledge it and let the adrenaline of conflict make it an afterthought.

He rose to his feet quickly, "Every route from the hanger has been locked down. The first company of my finest legion guards these passages from your allies, if your fellows could even get through the sealed doors in the first place. There is no victory here. Your men will die for the sake of death, and there will be no escape. Our tractor beam is at the ready. You could have tried to assault the Acerbitas when she was in dry dock, or when she was more relaxed, but you chose to board her during a blockade. You attacked while we were on our highest alert. You and your warriors were beaten before your ship ever landed, your arrival one expected."

The Cathar was his physical better. Cedric had no doubt this stranger could tear him apart limb from limb if he so wished. Fortunately, both [member="Xalus"] and [member="Azalus"] stood between the both of them now.

And it was time for the main course.

The Archlord's will spread through the realm of the ethereal. It lingered upon the closest of the islands; one limned by a great storm of violence and dark emotion. It was this island that represented the Cathar in Cedric's mind. He pressed upon it, his will a subtle thing at first. The makings of a mind were delicate, and most force sensitives did well to build mental walls.

Unfortunately for those force sensitives, every wall had cracks. These cracks could be exploited, and it was this that Cedric truly excelled in. The influencing of the mind was his very birthright; the will of thousands had been shaped by his battle meditation.

In this matter, that power was pressed against the mental faculties of his attackers. Cedric searched for every crack in those ethereal walls, for even iron corroded with time. If those cracks were to be found, then more energy would be pressed into them. With such came Cedric's voice, one that spoke as much within the mind of his victim as it did from his lips.

"One might wonder how a vessel made its way onto the Acerbitas unmolested?" The was sarcasm in that question. "Perhaps it was because the blockade was not perfect - because a crack had been allowed. Perhaps it was because I knew the Primeval could not resist a prize quite like the Acerbitas."

The pressure on the mind of the Cathar would broaden substantially. It would press upon every tiny fissure within the mind, cutting into the meat of one's thoughts with a knife's edge. Nothing was sacred and nothing was safe from the Archlord's plundering. There would likely be pain, though it would be of a more unnatural kind. A wrongness.

"What did you hope to accomplish Lion?" The voice came as a phantom dancing across the edge of one's consciousness. "To disable this vessel in preparation for a fleet's arrival? To slake the thirst of the forlorn god? Did you wish to claim this storied ship as your own - prove your power by claiming one of the mightiest ships in the galaxy?" The disembodied voice thundered with laughter that matched that of Thengil's. it was a cruel mockery of the proud Cathar's voice, just as dark, yet terribly hollow in nature. "Tell me, Lion, for I wish to know."

A mind was a very fragile thing indeed.

 

[Dune Rhur]

It was time to open on on the enemy ship. As the Bith drew alongside the enemy ship all turbolasers were charged and ready. Time to soften up the target. One last message to [member="Bartic Myth'rand"] and [member="Zaz Tal'Verda"].

"Commencing attack."

A simple message and a simple purpose. He flicked off the cloak over his starfighter and opened up with the canons as he began his first pass. The Bith swept along the side of the hull in the surprise attack....

[member="Boethiah"] [member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Boethiah]

Chiloon Rift - Cathedral ship

The Jedi's starfighter began its surprise attack against the Cathedral, a ship which had powered down its weapons upon request.

"We're being attacked..."

A grizzly captain, his face buried under bandages, gave the order. "Hail the one who requested us to stand down, demand to know why we're being attacked!" The pilgrimage ship may have been heavily armed, but with its weapons down it could not return fire. Bolts of super hot plasma scorched the cruiser's hull armour, where only vacuum and radiation shields remained active.

A communication is sent towards [member="Bartic Myth'rand"]: "We did as you asked, and now we are being attacked. Our pilgrims are not soldiers, but we will return fire unless the attack ceases and a damn good answer is provided." This all commenced as the boarding party undoubtedly made its way further along the ship.

[member="Dune Rhur"]