Your Faith In Your Friends Is Yours | TSE Invasion of TRA Held Gree Hex

[Preliat Mantis]

Location: Swamps​

Allies: None​

Enemies: [member="Varex"]​

Objective: Akaan​

​

As the illusions enveloped him, Preliat...chuckled. The voice modular in his helmet made him seem more sinister than his regular voice. He snapped his head in a few directions. A misdirection to make the Jedi think he was not aware of where he really was. He rotated the tomahawk in his hands.

And then the helmet turned towards Varex.

The real one.

Only the real Varex would make footprints.

Preliat saw the real one moving, faking him out. He was a fast man. He was a well-balanced, capable warfighter. But even he was not able to out-manuever a Jedi using the force. He had time to move, but not time to counterattack. It was a simple turn of his body that let the gauntlet and the accompanying blade sail by his head. He could feel the heat from the blade even from his helmet.

He brought his right knee up to the Jedi's chest, Beskar'kandar plating and all.

Preliat had fought Jedi, Sith- Dark siders, inbetweeners- this man felt different. Felt off. Different than the other Jedi. Like he wasn't holding anything back, but retaining that balance that the Jedi oh-so-loved to talk about. The only thing that truly elicited a response from Preliat was a slight chuckle.

 

[Dante Sotari]

Gree Enclave
Honestly Fething Creepy Shipyard
Allies: TSE, [member="Jairus Starvald"]
Enemies: These Gree, but maybe not THOSE Gree(?), TRA, [member="Romi Jade"] [member="Aten Ramses"]
Equipment: Legion Armor | Service Sidearm Pistol 'Minos' | Interchangeable Service Rifle, Rifle mode | Grenades- 2 Anti Blaster Smoke - 2 CryoBan - 2 Adhesive - 1 Flashbang | Explosives and timed detonators |

She knew the shot was good- not great but good- as soon as she felt the rifle hitch. From these sorts of distances even the slightest movement on the target's end could turn a head shot into a complete miss. Instead she watched through the scope as the woman took the hit to her shoulder.

Dante didn't stay put to see what happened next. In this situation she didn't have a spotter, didn't have someone to watch her back.

Jairus?

Dante knew better than to ever expect him to have her back.

No, in this situation the best course of action was to shoot, move, set up, shoot again-

Of course, she never got that chance.

She had expected a response. But nothing so immediate. Usually it took people a moment to figure out what had happened and then to pinpoint where it had come from. The distance involved in her job helped. Enough time for her to move. Of course, Dante wasn't usually dealing with Force Users.

Two things saved her from a similar fate to the woman she'd just shot (only without the benefit of someone waiting to snatch her out of the air). That very distance and the way she lifted the SIF-141 up in front of herself and off of the railing right before she was about to dash farther down the catwalk. The punch impacted the gun- the emotion, the fury behind it shattering the weapon. Dante grunted, the force of it sending her back but not enough to flip her over the opposite railing and have her fall to her death a dozen stories down.

The wind knocked out of her, she dropped the useless pieces of the rifle, and sprinted down the catwalk, looking for passages that took him out of her line of sight.... and her out of his in turn. She drew the Minos, her chest aching as she ran.

She had separated the Jedi- if he followed it would be further splintering their group. Leaving them more vulnerable. Of course, the same could be said of her.

 

[Tabigarashu Madara]

Allies: TSE, In Scene- [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | Nearby- [member='Belphaegor"] [member="Kyrel Ren"] [member="Anden Fancelo"] [member="Lok Munin"]
Enemies: TRA, In Scene- [member="Elpsis Kerrigan-Alcori"] | Nearby- [member="Noah Corek"] [member="Cedric Grayson"] [member="Ursula Vizla"]
Objective: Intelligence, Don't Die (so you know, the usual)

The blaring of alarms, the screams of pain, all threatened to overwhelm the sensitive hearing of the little Nezumi. Hirou cowered on the control panel, paws folding their ears over as they hugged their head, the wailing of too many sounds vibrating painfully through their skull. They looked up at the sound of Elpsis's blaster and the disintegration of part of the ceiling above, black eyes watering with pain.

The scene was a nightmare, even for someone who had been on Mirial.

Fire and smoke, the smell of blood and scorched flesh thick enough in the air it coated the back of the Nezumi's throat. The sheer hatred passing between the two women just as difficult to swallow even without the Force to sense it.

This was a battle of Masters of the Force. There was no place here for a Nezumi agent. There was nothing they could do that could help Matsu, not really.....

Or was there?

Hirou had their own mission. But perhaps, on the way to that, there was indeed something they could do.

Looking up, Hirou started to climb. It was easy and quick for tiny paws- Nezumi were strong for their size and the weight of themselves was negligible as they scampered up the wall. The edge of the hole Elpsis had made was sharp and hot, and Hirou dashed around the edge of it as fast as they could- but not fast enough to prevent the over heated metal from burning delicate paws. The Nezumi bit off a cry of pain, forcing themselves to keep going. Standing up on their back paws, blowing on their front, they looked around.

There. One of the tubes running along the inside of ship.

Coolant.

Hirou limped over. Using their small fusion cutter, they sliced through the tubing, jumping out of the way as blue liquid started to gush. With a grunt, they wrapped their arms around the tube and pinched it off, stopping the flow before dragging it over to the hole in the floor. Taking careful aim, they pointed it at the Fire Witch below.

They honestly had no idea if it would help for sure. But hey, she was using fire.

Had to try something.

Hirou let the tube open up, sending a spray of pale blue coolant from above right at Elpsis's face.

 

[Warchief Waddles]

Location: Gree Enclave, Shipyards
With: [member="Romi Jade"]
Enemies: [member="Dante Sotari"], [member="Jairus Starvald"]
Equipment: See Sig

---

---

Teeth gritting, right eye twitched, Aten watched the sniper get blasted back slightly disappointed he hadn’t been able to return the favor for what she’d done to his master. Ridding her of the weapon was a good start, with her beginning to sprint Aten did the same. The two rebel troops that had accompanied him and Romi meaning nothing. He had no orders to give, each second spent talking was one that could be spent exacting vengeance. Vengeance against the one who'd stolen one of the few precious things Aten had left. First, it had been his hopes on Alderaan, then his arm by Bounty Hunters, now his master by a sniper. He'd lost so much. The leather boots hammered against the railing, Aten’s eyes tracking the legionnaire, a walkway separated them with her being up on a catwalk above, the Morellian below on a separate one.

Right hand sweeping down mid-sprint Aten’s hand snatched the saber from his belt, hand rearing back the Jedi stretched out with his will activating it. The azure blade came to life, its glow casting itself around Aten. Master? The chirp of the spintiri crystal housed within called out in concern to its master. It could feel Aten’s rage. Every emotion the jedi was feeling surged between him and the crystal housed within the phrik hilt.

“Go” A single command was given, Aten disregarding the crystals concern for his own safety, for his state of mind. Arm extending out Aten threw the saber a tendril of power seizing it, grasping it, and propelling it. The lethal hum of the saber became a song as it spiraled through the air becoming a disk of death. The saber was one with Aten and he with it, commanding it was as simple as guiding his own body. The saber went up flying past the platform separating Aten and the sniper continuing onward to slice into the catwalk on which the legionnaire stood. Not where the legionnaire was but where they were going. The plasmatic blade sheared through the metal floor of the platform with ease, coming up on the right-hand side, slicing through a support on its way up. Curving in the air the blade went down on the left doing the same the catwalk loosened the flooring ahead of the trooper giving out and falling.

All the while Aten was still running, mind focused on the saber his body focused on the task ahead. Ever since his training had begun the Morellian had been naturally talented with acrobatics even incorporating them into his fighting style. Aten’s left foot came up planting itself on the railing where he kicked off both hands extended. The Jedi soared through the air between the lower walkway and the one above. His blonde hair whipping to and fro, eyes cold as Damascus steel. Seizing the edge of the railing, Aten’s body swung forward, as it came back his muscles flexed pulling him up and onto the platform just in time to catch the saber as it completed its journey.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Yammka Fleet
[member="Cerbera"]

"Oh, I am not too worried about th-" she curled her hand around to touch Cerbera's, index fingers hooking together "-Ahem"

She looked down to the table, seeing the holographic form of Akito looking up at them with a meaningful gaze and a slight smirk on her mousey face. Ophidia abandoned the hooking of fingers and turned to face the acolyte, unblinking eyes staring hard down on the nezumi. The smile faded quickly and Akito's posture changed rapidly.

"Yes?" "Hyperspace jump has been initiated, my master. A performance report of the Xiphos has been compiled for your review." "For later." "Yes my lord" "Remind the captain that the danger has not yet passed; we are entering a war-zone."

The nezumi bowed and threw a glance at Cerbera before the hologram flickered out. Ophidia ran a black hand over her ashen crown and exhaled slowly.


No, not love between them, nor base lust. It was like a dance on the edge of a knife, and she was always expecting to be cut. Nay, they would both be shredded should it come to it. It was the mutually assured destruction that kept them at bay, but also that kept them close.


Soon enough, on the other side of those blue lights, there would be no time to rest. She was eager to get there, and to get to the end of it all. Not out of a dislike of battle, but rather she could feel her age. When she was a younger woman, she would have headed first into the battle, now she found herself conserving her strength.

And yet she felt the stiff, cylindrical shape strapped to the back of her hip. It was sealed and concealed, not able to spread its loud and violent message until she permitted it. It wanted to slash and cleave and kill, like a violent jazz, waiting to be played, begging to be played.

"What do you expect we meet?"

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

ALLIES: In Scene - [member="Tabigarashu Madara"] | Nearby - [member="Belphaegor"] [member="Kyrel Ren"] [member="Lok Munin"] [member="Anden Fancelo"]
ENEMIES: In Scene - [member="Elpsis Kerrigan-Alcori"] | Nearby - [member="Cedric Grayson"] [member="Noah Corek"] [member="Ursula Vizla"]
OBJECTIVE: Keep at least two front teeth.
GEAR: Suit | Saber

Matsu would never have survived as long as she had - now in her 40’s - in a time where bacta tanks and radical corrective surgeries weren’t possible. She’d grown in to a woman her younger, more mindlessly bloodthirsty self would never recognize but some things didn’t change no matter how hard you tried. And so she found herself, again and again, under a knife after bearing the brunt of a proverbial other. Her arms, her lungs, half her joints, endless skin grafts, implants placed under her skin to keep chronic pain at bay - all replaced, all parts sewn and screwed on to a body that had forgotten the pressure.

But that had always been the point, hadn’t it?
Outrunning ennui.

When the fire coalesced and flowered out of Elpsis’ hands, it was as hot as any long-burning inferno. Matsu, for the brief moment she wasn’t incensed by pain, pictured it for a moment like a flame that never went out - always waiting to be drawn on. The poetry wasn’t long for the world though. She took two steps back and drew her left arm up to protect her face, but as was the element’s nature, it wasn’t deterred by physical barriers and licked underneath towards her face. The rest of her body was engulfed in the short blast but seemed suffocated in the folds of her suit, deprived of oxygen as she shied away. It was nothing, in either case, to the agony that tore through her cheek.

Her left cheek felt like it was peeling off as it was blasted with a sheet of flame, her shriek of pain drawing heat in to her mouth where gingiva seared to black. The ligament melted away, sloughing on to her tongue. She spat in reflexive revulsion and fear of blocking her airway, a smattering of tissue punctuating by the CLACK CLACK CLACK of several teeth falling right out of their sockets.

Huh. She’d read about that once, that teeth weren’t fused to the bone but held instead by muscle and ligaments. Burnt away. Guess it was true.

When Inferno blazed to life, it lit the contours of a gouged face now shiny and weeping with a large burn that had sublimated tissue enough to see through a hole to the teeth remaining behind the cheek.

“I should be, shouldn’t I?” she asked as her lightsaber ignited in kind, her speech slurred by the wound. She hadn’t named Darth Sicarii’s lightsaber, preferring it to remain a stranger to her no matter how hard she’d worked to be able to use it safely. It crackled, a jittering pulse of red light in answer to the increasingly frantic alarm systems blaring in the hallway. It was just as Matsu took her step forward that the coolant seemed to come out of nowhere. She didn’t have the luxury of time to look up and confirm it, but she had a sneaking suspicion it had been Hirou - the coolant’s aim and timing was just a little too close to perfect to be accidental.

Matsu suddenly was upon her, the flash of her blade howling to life as she urged herself, in a mere blink of an eye to an angle forward of Elpsis’ left. Her right leg had made a passing step, positioned to keep her flank safe but not impede her movement forwards or backwards. Both hands held the hilt of the saber, right over left, as she moved quickly to hopefully take advantage of whatever distraction the coolant provided. The swing came from above her dominant hand’s shoulder, humming hungrily, the drive of her downward attack keeping the blade fluidly stiff in front of her as she aimed a strike towards Elpsis' upper hand and wrist. If successful, the swing would simply follow immediately in to the other wrist, removing both hands in one fell swoop. The greater length of her saber kept her safely out of range of an immediate counter, but she wasn’t fool enough to think Elpsis wouldn’t have something up her sleeve.

 

[Delsin Kessler]

Objective: Retreat to the capital
Allies: Rebel Alliance [member="Wyatt Morga"] [member="Cedric Grayson"]
Enemies: Sith Empire ([member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] @Khonsy Amon )
Equipment: In signature (Lights off missiles)
Forces:
Thunderbird Starfighters (x8)
Swarm 1.0 (x12)


His last ships arrived, and Solon received the transmittion from Wyatt...retreat was a good idea, but there were dozens and dozens of Rebels still on the capital "I need to move ships quickly. Do you got my swarm ships? They should´ve arrive yesterday..." "Yes but Wyatt just told us to retreat" "I will, but the corvettes can´t just leave the planet while there is a cruiser in orbit" Solon ship landed, with the others to refuel and fill their weapons. The Sith air force could come thundering in any second, so being quick was key to delay their movement. At least it was a good time to try his booma mines. It was a prototype, so it would be lucky if they did any damage "Ground troops, place as many mines you can outside the city, then get your asses back in ten minutes. Use speeders" he put a ear piece and got off his ship.

Solon wasn´t a strategist, and his only battles were Jaminere and Dubrillion "Wyatt i will have the troops to defend as little they can. The delay of the last corvettes its because i cant assure that we have air superiority on orbit" the rebels started to get ready

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Gear: Phrik armour, lightsabre (both in sig), rebreather, boltgun, Reaper Plasma Shotgun, sidearm.
Objective: Reunion. Mayhem.
Location: Some hallway behind the hangar.
Enemies: [member="Matsu Xiangu"] (Engaging). Also in scene: [member="Tabigarashu Madara"]. Elsewhere: [member="Belphaegor"], [member="Kyrel Ren"], [member="Lok Munin"], [member="Anden Fancelo"]
Allies elsewhere: [member="Cedric Grayson"], [member="Noah Corek"]


Inferno blazed to life, manifesting a beam of fiery orange light. It matched the flames inside the hallway. As well as the intensity of the fire that burnt inside Elpsis. She could see the Dark Lady cross the distance towards her. The Dark Woman was undoubtedly hurt, but her dark aura was like a nova of power.


After all, this was a woman who had fought Elpsis' mother as an equal. Elpsis had borne witness to the devastation both had left behind. She'd prayed for the poor souls that had been caught in the crossfire. May they find peace in a realm without war.


Suddenly, coolant!


Elpsis had sensed there was another life form near Matsu, but not given it much thought. Truth be told, the Nezumi were not a race she knew of. From above her, a stream of cold, blue liquid shot towards her face. Or rather the Phrik helmet that covered said face, as she was wearing sealed Phrik armour. The foolant fogged up her visor, covering it. However, Elpsis did not see like normal beings did. Her helmet did not even have an HUD, for she was blind. Rather than rely upon her eyes and technological doodads to look upon the world around, she utilised the force.


Still, though her vision was not impaired, she felt annoyed. The cold threatened to seize her, but the fires inside her burnt strongly. However, the Nezumi's manoeuvre succeeded in distracting her for just a moment. Enabling the Dark Lady to close in. Driven by her downward slopping hands, the Dark Queen's burning crimson sabre swept down fluidly. The swing came top right to bottom left. Ruthless. Implacable. Aimed directly for Elpsis' wrists. The girl wore covering Phrik armour, which offered excellent protection against a variety of attacks, but no armour was without gaps. Otherwise one would be unable to move in it, let alone attack anyone. Gaps such as in the wrist joint area. This made them a very good spot to target.


Precognition screamed inside Elpsis' mind and, as if on automatism, she dashed to her right, arms yanked backwards. Quickly enough to avoid being dehanded. Inferno tried to intercept. It was not enough for Elpsis to emerge unscathed. An intense, horrible feeling of white-hot pain flooded her nerves. Her body felt like the tip of a flame. The sensation of anguish emanated from her left forearm and left wrist, both severely burnt. The smell of burnt, mangled flesh filled the air, which was already clogged with smoke. It smelt a bit like a barbeque, just significantly less pleasant. Such was the intensity of the feeling that she bit down on her tongue.


Pain is just weakness leaving the body. Stand your ground, girl. Fight. Or you will die, Siobhan's words thundered in her mind. The Kerrigan matriarch was not easy to love. Truth be told, Elpsis did not find her that loveable. She was cold and often dismissive. Left her daughter starved for approval and affection. Yet she had taught her well.


Left wrist and forearm had been left temporarily useless. Her wounded hand left her sabre's hilt. Her fury and pain found an outlet as a telekinetic burst rippled from her towards the Dark Queen. It was a comparatively small burst instead of a concussive wave. With her rage and anguish being concentrated in one focused blast towards the Sith's upper body. Meant to unbalance Matsu and knock her blade aside, so that it would be out of position. The Dark Woman's blade was noticeably longer than Elpsis'. However, the length advantage this produced was a bit mitigated by the Sith's two-handed grip. Elpsis was also a good deal taller than the Dark Lady, which probably left the two combatants about even.


Upon unleashing the telekinetic burst, Elpsis struck. Her burning orange sabre, held in her dominant hand, swept towards Matsu, aiming for a good swing towards the Dark Queen's left leg. Ideally, it would be difficult for the Dark Lady to bring her blade across in time or evade the furious strike. However, she would undoubtedly have a great many tricks up her sleeve.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

By The Dogged Hand - Lead ship of Assault Fleet Cinder.​

Landed on Gree - Deploying troops and resources.​

​

[member="Thyne"] [member="Kor Vexen"] [member="Khonsu Amon"] [member="Darth Voracitos"] [member="Alkor Centaris"]​

[member="Vestille Thumahra"] [member="Djorn Bline"] [member="Khaji Ri'Had"] [member="Wyatt Morga"] [member="Solonariwan Tofusin"]​

The landing of The Dogged Hand had been dramatic, but not more than the Legion had bargained for.

The far reaches of wasteland were dotted with smoking wrecks of the fallen transports, fire fighting back against the starting rain. But there was no time to stop and grieve; they had to move forward through the pain. Thoughts of who was where, who one might never see again, were pushed out as they pushed on. Come rain of fire, they would push on. Joycelyn Zambrano pushed on/

The Dogged Hand's great hangars opened up, allowing the exodus of its prized contents. The troop transports shuttled out clusters of legionnaires, and Thyne, that spread out to establish the perimeter of the landing site. Scouts on speederbikes spread out in every direction. Men and women in white armours rushed to their posts, following orders issued through their helmets.

The Orenths dropped the heavier equipment: Walkers of different varieties dotting down, towering over the dips and tors of the landscape with their metallic bulk; squat artillery vehicles rolling into position. Phi-class dropships spread, reinforcing General Vexen's blockade of the capital.

Then, from the depths of The Dogged Hand came the cannons. It had been difficult to see, even in the interior, how many there actually were, and to what scale they were. Now, they came out, crawling on the legs their makers had given them. Four-legged Powerhammers with a procession of ammunition, and massive Harbingers, their cannons already turning to the sky. Smaller artillery walkers moved to set up a perimeter around the big guns, protective of the nest.

Inside the Ferrata there still remained a few ships, marked with the yellow grin, not touched by the troops. The ship emptied, but for those profane ships. A sudden burst of movement shook one of them, causing a loud clang. No one looked, no one dared look.

The movements of the Legion's artillery was smooth, albeit slow. Troops did not have time to wait, but precision could not be rushed. They had to take the right position now, lest they were forced to move later. The landing site had been chosen specifically for this purpose: A solid ridge amid a great flat.

As Joycelyn Zambrano climbed out of the dropship, she saw just what she feared and had prepared for: They were in dire need of air-support, lest a ship simply blast them from the sky. The artillery could do much against vehicles, distant troop formations, and even ships in low orbit, but she doubted they could withstand a bombardment. Not unless they got a shield up. Of course, while the shield was up, they would not be able to fire. It was a balance they would have to work with.

"Thyne!" She shouted out for him, wanting him by her side through this. Touching her com, she called in through the localised frequency "Captain! We are going to need that shield. We had company coming down and I don't think they plan to stay away for long" "Those Thyrsians saved our asses, but we need that shield stat."

She looked around her for Thyne and saw him squeezed out of a group of legionnaires as they exited the back of the Phi. A small smile cocked the corner of her lip as she distinguished his uncomfortable form waddling around in the white armour. He looked a bit like a dog dressed as an ant and dropped in the middle of an ant colony.

 

[Darth Caecus]

Location: Satikan, Capital of Asation
Objective: Don't .Get. Caught.
Allies: TSE, [member="Luca Thorne"]
Enemies: TRA, Open to Interaction

She didn't answer his I love you. It could have seemed because she was focused on her own task. Or perhaps it was indeed not the time or place. But when he spoke again and received no answer, that would be suspicious. Kith didn't just ignore Luca. Even when she was focused on something, there was always room for him.

When he turned around, he'd find her standing right where she should be, her back to him in the doorway. But when he got over to her, he'd realize she was a thousand kilometers away.

Something was coming. She could feel the vibrations in the Force. Black as pitch, the sensation like dipping her hand into a pool slicked with oil. Rank and unctuous, it covered everything, make it hard to breath, hard to open her eyes. Gummy and thick, sticking the lashes together. Everything weighed heavily, sucking mud pulling down as something rose from the depths.

Kith was a Sith by process of elimination. For someone with the title of Sith Lord, her movements and actions within the Force tended toward the central swings of the pendulum. She was not a good person- she didn't pretend to be. But she did not revel in the darkside, did not bathe in it, dive headlong into it. She approached the Force with caution and respect, using it for her own ends certainly but with care.

What was happening in the swamps was anything but.

When he reached out to touch her, she shuddered, drawing in a deep, shaking breath, as if for a minute she had forgotten that such a thing was necessary.

"They're calling something terrible," she breathed, eyes glassy and still distant. Her eyes darted back and forth, unseeing- at least anything physical and present in this moment. "Luca we have to go."

 

[Ras Val'kor]

​

​

Objective: Engage
Allies: [member="Garen Kalkat"] | [member="Atlas Kane"]
Enemies: [member="The Slave"] | [member="Judas Foster"] | [member="Faye"]
Engaging Directly: [member="Julian Valentine"]

The man spoke, just as Iprotis was about to pull the trigger, his would-be prey decided to chime in. He feigned the disguise of an innocent, pleading with the Imperial to spare the moment of violence in order to escape, as if to elicit sympathy for his own life and the rest of those on board; however, his life was no different, he would be disposed of like the men and women before him. If one thing were to be clear, it was that Iprotis didn't care for anything other than meeting a quota.​

​

Saving lives was not a priority, being viewed as a "good" person was trivial. Blood must be shed, and wars must be waged to nurture the soul of the Empire. ​

​

It was simply the nature of things.​

​

The agent held his tongue, listening to the individual drone on with a number of cliched excuses to spare himself from being gunned down. But then there was the mention of an identification card, of which could be quite useful. Considering this, Iprotis couldn't willfully feed into the ploy in motion, and decided then that it wasn't worth the risk. After a brief few seconds, the agent noticed the sudden movement of the man's weaponry, dashing into the opposite direction and diving away into cover. ​

​

A clever, but low tactic. ​

​

A multitude of concussive blasts forced Iprotis to stay out of sight, feeling the violent vibrations as each of the pellets connected with durasteel plating and nearby walls. Debris kicked up into the air, creating a momentary thicket of smoke and dust. Disoriented, senses hazed, the agent pressed on through all odds. Peeling from out of cover, Iprotis expended a total of four shots to keep up pressure; should his opponent receive a particle beam to any part of his body, it'd spell out a significantly unpleasant time. ​

​

Though the intent in this predicament was to outright kill, Iprotis' aim would be slightly hampered due to his current state. His vision was blurred, his visor had become flecked with ashes and grime.​

 

[Tehkyram]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aJo_3B5-1uk​

Objective: Jedi Hunt
Allies: Sith Imperial Legion
Enemies: Rebel Soldiers // [member="Cenric Marus"]

A blaster and a call to surrender. If the padawan were not so earnestly serious about his demand, Tehkyram might find his call amusing. But no, he was arrogant and presumptuous and so the only response was rage. Simmering, boiling rage. Rage that made Tehkyram's whole body shake, even the half imprisoned in ice. He could hardly articulate any thought beyond YOU DARE!? and his rage was so great that he could not even vocalize a coherent syllable. All he could do in the face of such a damnable insult was roar, roar as loudly as he could in the face of the presumptuous padawan. And as he roared, metal plates began to dent. The bones of the dead soldier began to crack. And most importantly, the ice that kept Tehkyram in place shattered like fragile glass.

With newfound fury, Tehkyram blindly rushed at the Jedi, closing any gap between them in only a few strides. From there, the slashing returned with newfound fury and force. With each step was another wide arcing slash with enough power behind it to cleave a body in twain. There was no reason or sense to the assault, no rationale behind the swings beyond vitriolic malice and homicidal fury.

 

[Judas of Vahl]

Exact Location: Somewhere in Gree space, aboard the Technicolor Beat
Allies: [member="The Slave"], [member="Julian Valentine"], [member="Faye"], The Rebel Alliance
Foes: [member="Atlas Kane"], [member="Garen Kalkat"], [member="Adrian Vandiir"], The Sith Empire
Directly Engaging: [member="Nixia Amabilia"], [member="Darth Arabris"]
[OOC: Arabris was given a 24h, 48h, and 72h notice to respond. He has not, so we're moving on. Please PM me if you're wanting to rejoin the engagement and we'll sort it out!]

The spaceborne beast rider had little space to move in. What sort of mindful and situationally aware warrior rode a beast down a ship's corridors? Aside from his mount, there were far more egregious errors that the rider had been making, particularly being within eyesight of Judas. That alone had led to downfall of many a brave, heroic warrior; ousted for their battle's tale to be told another day over a brew and a fire. Some said his confidence would lead to his downfall, others simply called him an arrogant fiend.

Call it a personal foible.

Legs churned beneath him, sending him flying towards the rider with each soaring step. The Betrayer came to his side, preparing to launch itself in a wide-arc swing. The reptilian thing screamed at him, hissing violently as it too raced to meet his charge head-on. The rider readied himself, preparing to thrust a saber deep into Judas' gullet.

Then he swung. Muscles tensed, flexing quickly to send the entire weight of his being into this single motion. He pushed himself away towards the wall during the act, narrowly avoiding the decapitating arc of the rider's saber. The Sith greatsword met flesh and bone heartily, tearing through armored flesh with a gleeful sort of artistry. A straight line through the side of the reptile, leaking scarlet all the while.

Their momentum carried them a ways. Judas himself was thrown into the wall by the creature's tail, breath knocked out of him as he clambered back up to his feet. The beast and his rider, however, managed to find themselves in an imbalanced tumble towards to the blast-doors behind them. As if upon cue, they began to open - just in time for the beast rider and his mount to tumble through, before closing promptly.

Coughing violently, Judas rose to his feet amidst the ashes and flames. Golden eyes turned down towards the corridor to lock upon the only person still standing in his way.

 

[Koda Fett]

OBJECTIVE: Secure Gree Technology Capture Miner Return to Imperial Fleet
ALLIES:​ The Sith Empire
ADVERSARIES: The Rebel Alliance, [member="Amea Virou"]

This was... concerning.

Fett paid Amea no mind throughout the duration of the flight. Not when they burst through the clouds, not when they entered the atmosphere, and not when the streaks of intensive turbo laser fire criss-crossed ahead of them. Being caught out in the open right here and now was never going to be preferable, but perhaps with the power outage, and the ship drifting aimlessly through the void, they may appear to be dead already. Subsequently left alone. That was the dream, however.

In an instant everything cut out. The controls became unresponsive, the thrusters stopped thrumming, and the engines ceased their humming. The Mandalorian became weightless, lifted into the air as the interior turned black, and then flashed red. "Hmph." He snorted from beneath the helmet, activating his mag locks that, oddly enough, magnetically bound him to the floor. Capable of traversing it as if the gravity was present, yet Amea would find that it certainly wasn't.

A cautious man acted accordingly.

Amea was the source of this trouble, but he never assumed that was the case. His Carbine remained bound to a seat up the small flight of stairs that led to the cockpit. Within his grip was nothing more than a WESTAR-35 Blaster Pistol, held at what seemed to be half-mast as he descended the stairs with the intention of furthering to the engine itself.

That wasn't going to happen though, was it?

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Allies: TRA​

Enemies: TSE​

Suicide Squad: [member="Kamon Vondiranach"] | [member="Avoim Oeymo"] | [member="Jyoti Nooran"] | [member="Allyson Locke"] | [member="Kahne Porte"] | [member="Valkren Calderon"] | [member="Yuroic Xeraic"] ​

Engaging: [member="Preliat Mantis"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Fiolette Yvarro"] | [member="Kaalia Pavanos"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"]​

​

Ancient Gree Ruins​

Jedi Loyalist Strike Team​

​

​

​

His prey stepped aside at exactly the right moment, and Varex realized too late that the Mandalorian had seen through his mirages. Ignoring each one as they charged in at a different angle and attempting to slash at different parts of his body, the beserker simply smiled. They vanished together, a cloud of dust rising around the two warriors as the only trace of their passage, and the Jedi Knight was left alone and on a collision course with this savage primate's awaiting knee.

But Preliat was not the only one capable of surprises. Instead of attempting to arc his body ineffectually over the reach of his opponent, Varex simply coiled in his digitrade legs and kicked out forward, hoping to break bone or at the very least knock Mantis' leg out from under him as the Vaemath sought to use him like a human springboard. Arcing is body out in anticipation of a backwards roll that would bring him back into a standing position, the Jedi lashed out at the Mandalorian's face with his right gauntlet. It was a wild swipe, intended more to dissuade his foe from attempting any attacks of opportunity while his body was hyper-extended in this way.

So far, neither of them had spoken a word, telepathically or otherwise. Divorcing himself from the moment, Varex had to admit it was oddly refreshing. The worst part about hunting Sith was the incessant monologues, it was refreshing for him to find someone who respected the art of war enough not to make any big speeches about it.

 

[Amea Virou]

[member="Koda Fett"]

The marks that had spread across her arms and hands darkened her veins with a charred discoloration. Her shoulders sunk and rose with seething fury and agitation. The silence, the unbearable silence was too much. Her hand reached out for the watch in her jacket, and with a tug she yanked it into her hand. Her fingers wrapped around it with reverence. She slung it over her right wrist and let out a relieved sigh as the indefinite trivia began to cloud her mind with something to process again.

The average travel time between Carida and Roche, the average travel time between Coruscant and Etti IV. There was a great bias towards Travel times, but that was just fine. As long as she had something to grant herself this peace she was content. Her knees felt weak for a second and she sunk to the ground with her hand still wrapped around her wrist as if to ensure it was truly there.

The experience brought a sinking gut feeling to her stomach.

No, wait, that wasn’t just a gut feeling. Amea’s eyes opened to the sight of her hair enveloping her cheeks and eyes with a gentle sway. Didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened. In her anxious state Amea had overdone it, and here she was now. Her mind was too preoccupied with her continued survival, and with a push against the wall she made way towards the door.

If this bounty hunter feth thought she would just give up he was dead wrong. She pushed into the corridors, leaving her jacket behind with nothing of value. At least not to her. The jacket had no value to her and with the torn sleeve it offered nothing in the way of protection as it was.

“Surprise, fether!” She yelled and tossed herself at the man to smack the pistol out of his hands before trying to grasp at the glove on his hand to tear it away. She wasn’t going to live through that again and she would be damned if she granted him that satisfaction.

The playfield had shifted, and in this environment Amea was the queen.

 

[Cenric Marus]

Exact Location: RAS Defiance - Acerbitas Support Ship
Enemies: [member="Tehkyram"]
Allies: Rebel Alliance

Cenric had to move.

He knew it. If he didn't budge he would die. The Karkodon was fast, large, and his lightsaber seemed to swipe from left to right with enough force to cleave even a Rancor's hide in a single swipe. The padawan's chest tightened with anxiety as the alien rushed towards him, a loud ringing echoing in his ear as a small bit of blood dripped from his ruptured ear drums.

The aliens roar had been loud enough to make his very bones shake, and he could now barely hear as the alien screamed and then charged.

It was a good thing then that Cenric did not have to hear to fight this opponent. Instead he braced himself, holding his lightsaber in one hand and the blaster pistol in the other. He watched the Karkodon charge, his massive bulk pounding against the durasteel floor as he ran forward. A breath filled the Padawan's lungs, and then he took a single step forward. He waited for the alien's lightsaber to swing high to the left, and then quickly dashed forward and to the side of the Sith.

He used the small opening of the much larger mans more laborious movements, sending his lightsaber swiping low towards Sith's leg. Hopefully fast enough to catch the alien off guard.

 

[Kamon's OOC]

Allies: [member="Varex"] (Sort Of), [member="Avoim Oeymo"], [member="Kahne Porte"], [member="Allyson Locke"], [member="Jyoti Nooran"], [member="Valkren Calderon"], [member="Yuroic Xeraic"] | Enemies: [member="Darth Carnifex"], [member="Darth Prazutis"], [member="Fiolette Yvarro"], [member="Kaalia Pavanos"] (ENGAGING), [member="Taeli Raaf"] [member="Preliat Mantis"] | Location: Heading To Ritual Site | Gear: Corporis Skin Suit, Twin White Lightsabers, Amphistaff, Blast Bugs

They fell like moths to a flame.

One, two, three. Several turned weapons on him but he efficiently parried their attacks away harmlessly or into one of their compatriots. It was an intricate, weaving dance that unfolded among the lines of the enemy. Many would feel overwhelmed among such numbers, even amongst thr Jedi, but Kamon felt no fear, no anxiety. He had nothing to live for anymore, so why should he care if he died. It wasn't as if his death would be permanent anyways.

That wasn't to say he fought with wreckless abandon. As a veteran of countless battles and numerous wars, he new how to restrain his eagerness to kill those who fought against peace. They thst lived for war were his mortal enemies and always would be. Even when he truly died his legacy would live on in his children, a few of whom still stood against the kinds of beings that had come to attack these worlds. The same brings protecting a gate thst he knew they needed to breach.

History would prove him wise in having some of the attacking forces keep their eyes to the rear. Battle began to ensue from all directions as Sith forces closed in. He had known that they would, given the presence of Sithspawn and other crestures. As such, the troopers were ready and a wild battle ensued thst he paid little mind to, personally. Their future was no longer within thr grasp of his hands. He would play little effect on them other than weakening some of the Sith's front line.

His attention would not remain on the enemy soldiers, however, as the appearance of a ghastly figure in the peripheries of his vision drew his attention. An illusion of intimidation. Those knowledgeable in the current were able to see through things meant to hide appearance much better than those who couldn't touch it. Not that it mattered. He did not find the illusion particularly intimidating after having rsthtars bearing down on them not long prior.

Saber lifted to point white blade at her as he circled away from his path of cleansing. The appearance lended itself to that of a sorcerer so he prepared himself the way he would have were he facing Malice Draclau all those days in the past. In other words, he prepared to avoid and maneuver. There were other tricks up his sleeve, though. With a vong formed left arm, he had access to the living technology of the Yuuzhan Vong people. The amphistaff would probably give that away, but he kept other things in reserve.

For the moment be just circled to keep moving and avoid giving the enemy troops a chance to cut him down, his eyes focused on her.

 

[Koda Fett]

OBJECTIVE: Secure Gree Technology Capture Miner Return to Imperial Fleet
ALLIES: The Sith Empire
ADVERSARIES: The Rebel Alliance, [member="Amea Virou"]

As stubborn as he.

​The two shared similarities, and neither were likely to ever accept such a thing. Whether Amea was certain she could never have anything in common with a man so cruel, and Koda so intent on being an individual that it was nearly impossible to believe that even two people could share traits.

Fett's eyes widened beneath his T-Visor, and in that moment his body turned to face Amea and his finger squeezed down upon the trigger. Though the Blaster was swiped from his hand in the process, firing blindly off into the interior hull. It left nothing more than a charred mark and a waft of steam. The next thing he had known, his crushgaunt was being pried at. His fingers dug into the interior, curling the fingers, finding itself bound to him, or so it would seem. Yet if this Queen was in her realm then perhaps the crushgaunt wasn't going to matter one way or another.

In the moment of tension, Fett thrust his right hand forwards. It cut through the air, heading in the direction of the closest arm that reached for the other crushgaunt. If capable of landing, it was sure to attempt a removal of such hand from himself. Don't touch me. Almost insulted.

He was bound to floor, unlike Amea who was able to glide through it.

 

[Placeholder 0128]

[member="Belphaegor"]

Something had changed.

Cedric felt it within the empyrean - it was a slight shift within the Sith he had sought to defeat. It was something far different from the previous emotions that the knight had felt from those he now fought: it was not hate, anger, nor a desire to kill, but one to save. The Sith Lord had actual concern for his men, and sought not only to preserve his own live, but that of his comrades. Cedric was well aware that the Sith could not halt the torrent of flames on his own; he would fail, and the entirety of the soldiers he'd brought with him would likely perish as well. The Acerbitas would be saved, and the boarding party utterly repelled.

But then Cedric couldn't bring himself to just let that happen. The realization that there was a possibility for selflessness in the Sith, even in a situation such as this, shattered Cedric's resolve. He parted his lips to speak, but his words were replaced by a pained cry as his kneecaps were shattered beneath the weight of the force. Wounded, the knight fell to the floor, and the flames fell with him.

Pain was all Cedric could register as the fire threatened to engulf his foes. The wounds were real, but they were of no consequence. He couldn't just let this happen, not now.

Acting on instinct alone, Cedric hurled his unlit lightsaber back toward the rebel line. One of the soldiers scooped the weapon up and shouted a warning. Cedric couldn't hear him, the blood in his ears was thundering too loudly.

Instead, he reached out once more toward the flames. This time he could not halt them, but he did manage to alter their course. Rather than fall upon the Sith and his line of men, the cascade of fire fell toward Cedric in a concentrated twister of color.

"Save your men," the knight's voice was strained, "Save them and leave." The masked Jedi gave the Sith a slight nod, outstretched his arms, and muttered a prayer under his lips as the fire engulfed him. He was a Jedi first, and a soldier second; the preservation of life, no matter what that life might have been, had always been his highest priority.

When the flames utterly engulfed his form, there was no pain, only serenity.

I am one with the force. The force is one with me.