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

[Wyatt Morga]

Apprehensive, watching the end come...

Allies: TRA │ [member="Bernard of Arca"]
Enemies: [member="Alkor Centaris"] │ [member="Kor Vexen"] │ [member="Darth Voracitos"] │ [member="Vestille Thumahra"] │ [member="Djorn Bline"] │ [member="Khaji Ri'Had"]


“By the Sith, you are arrogant.”, he heard the Sith call back; though he ignored the rest of whatever it was he began to speak of.

Instead, his focus glanced back to the lights and hand signals, ensuring everything was set as the high noon sun blistered down on the courtyard; knowing now he had accomplished his goal. Whatever this Sith Lord intended, he’d fight through hell to get goal, with these rebels as the gatekeeper.

Soon, the force guided his attention back to those that ran their location; looking over the ravenous horde. A group of the gaunt, hungered masses that eked out cries of pain and suffering with their every step; the sight alone enough to move Wyatt back but only a step. War was cruel, he hadn’t been apart of it for many years and his stomach had yet to settle; but what he witnessed was nothing more than rabid animals rushing forth in a swath of ambitious gluttony.

It sickened him, forcing only the resounding fire that took place overhead to begin upon the crowds. He could sense the Lord to have disappeared, though it worried him he was so willing to throw so many into a killing floor, made possible through verpine shatter guns and excited tibanna gas. Wyatt simply turned, knowing he had bought enough time for his men.

As he entered the building, two rebels shut the doors; using an extending device to secure it from intrusion. They offered the Jedi a smile, and he returned it, knowing it might be the last they would see of them. Moving forward, the only man to meet his now somber walk was that of Sergeant Cromwell. Wyatt didn’t offer him a smile, knowing that carnage that had begun outside was only a precedent to what was to come.

“Sir, evacuation efforts are almost complete. Reports showing up to 80% of the population has gotten off the planet; many more however have been detained by Sith in orbit, or simply refuse.”

Wyatt nodded, contemplating what he had said before speaking in an almost hushed tone;

“Then I think it’s time we leave. Is the fleet ready?”, Wyatt asked.

“Last signal for retreat came a few minutes ago… They’re ready for you.”

Wyatt moved with some stature, his broad shoulders however had grown small and close to his chest, his usual glow replaced by a quiet regard for all those that were about to fall on the planet in defense of freedom, and the ideals they stood for. As the two came up to the rear evacuation gunship, Wyatt paused.

Amidst the rebels offloading the last of the supplies, to critical non combat members boarding, the distant cries of commands and the saddened cries of departing brothers; Wyatt stood before Cromwell and asked him a final time;

“Are you sure this is what you and your men want?”, hoping to offer him one last retreat from what was to come.

Cromwell smiled, one of age and wisdom, his chiseled patchy chin contorting in some vague appreciation for the Jedi before him. The man had seen Jedi before, he grew to respect them, but Wyatt grew as a friend in only the short amount of time they had spent together.

“No offense, Jedi, but not here to die. We’re going to give our all to give the galaxy a fighting chance, to stand tall in the face of what is to come. Every boy back there has an itching to make a statement, and nothing you offer to them is going to change that.”

Cromwell slapped Wyatt’s shoulder, letting his hand wait there for reassurement.

“Besides, who wants to live forever?”, he said through a grin.

Wyatt simply shook his head, chuckling with a heaviness to his heart. His hand moved to rest on Cromwell’s, if only for a moment. He did not however, say goodbye. To give a farewell implied they were leaving each other, and Wyatt knew they’d meet again.

Someday, someway. He had to believe that.

With no further words, Wyatt moved to the gunship and helped those who hadn’t load finish their preparations. In the matter of a minute, the ship had moved to take off, shattering the sound barrier as it accelerated towards the outbound fleet high above them.

On the ground, Cromwell offered the ship the last of glances before turning back to the war at hand. His age, his hearty, stoic nature, all of it didn’t allow for him to be weakened by the emotions he felt. Though the thought of a life he could have lived donned on him for a moment, that of a wife, of kids, seeing them grow and be a better man than he.

A world he fought for, it seemed, but not one he would be allowed to enjoy.

Clenching his jaw, he donned his helmet and moved to one of the many windows; firing down on the crowds that fired back, threatening to breech their stronghold in a matter of minutes. He didn’t know if he’d survive, but as shots rang out and commands went through the chains, he knew just one thing.

Tonight was going to be a long night.

 

[Ursula Vizla]

Objective: Fleeing.
Allies: Rebel Alliance
Enemies: Sith Empire
Location: Hangar..
Gear (As it goes): Black Fligh suit, Osseus Class ExoSkeleton, Legacy System Beskar’gam (equipped with: Jetpack with two individual thrusters, one wrist rocket launchers, two cortosis gauntlets, two crushgaunts, one wrist mounted retractable vibroblades, and two wrist flamethrowers, one Mandalorian Power Shield, and one KE-1 Shoulder Mounted Slugthrower), AIMX-01 "Buckler" Energy Shield Cybernetic Arm, armorweare black cape with Vizla symbol in the back in red ink, pair of R82 jump boots, Utility Belt (equipped with: Two thermal detonators, one grappling spike launcher, ammo, one comlink, one EX-324 Serum Subjects, two hand granades).
Armory: One custom made Masamune, four Shiva Knifes, one T-7 ion disruptor rifle, two MT 14 Heavy Blaster Pistol.
Crew: Four mandalorian women affiliated with House Vizla, four Harbinger War Droid.

Before the cease fire, Ursula thought that hell should probably be like that. That’s what she thought to herself, firing one shot in a sith trooper right in his head, but Ursula didn’t stop shooting for one damn second.
“Firestorm, the Jedi are pulling back, shall we follow them?”, she heard Bhia in her ear. And couldn’t help herself from growling in anger, she was having fun with those dumb soldiers, why couldn’t those damn saber lovers do the same thing? But Ursula replied her friend, in a loud voice.

“Keep firing. Let’s cover for them, Action 5, blast it off, girls.”, that said, taking notice of a more active Sith soldier, Vizla placed both pistols in her waist, with all four of her friends surrounding her, covering for her with friendly fire against the Sith, while Ursula raised both arms to the sky. Firing both wrist missiles on the ceiling above the Sith troopers, letting the blast take its toe, and physics help them by dropping all the ceiling scraps in the nearby troopers. While the other two mandalorian, kneeled in front of Ursula, used their flamethrowers to back the others away. She, on the hand, grabbed the T7 from her Harbinger droid. Fully recharged, and so, turning her back to the flames, she started to walk away with the rest of the rebels forces, while the droids covered for them. All before the ceasefire between imperials and rebels happened.

 

[WelshPsych]

Location: Gree Surface
Allies: [member="Allyson Locke"] | [member="Valkren Calderon"] | [member="Kahne Porte"] | [member="Jyoti Nooran"] | @Other Rebel Folk
Enemies: [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | @Kaalia Pravanos | @Other Sith Folk
Objective: Stop the ritual!

Yuroic smirked as Allyson took him up on his offer but also warned him of disappearing once this was all over. He was reminded when he was undercover that another woman did a similar thing, seemed that he needed to up his flirting skills. For now, he focused on the battle ahead of them. He shot standard arrows at the zombies, working with the digger droids that Allyson had brought with her. He saved his special arrows for any Sith that they crossed. Allyson had shot ahead, there was a sense of determination from her, something here that she was wanting to face. That was at least what Yuroic could sense from her.

His VI in the helmet of his armour showed him best course of action, his arrows flew in the air, striking at the many Sithspawn that were surrounding the group. Activating his comms, he contacted Valkren and Kahne, "I'm going to meet up with Allyson, you two make as much of a distraction as you can for the other Sith. We need to stop them completing this ritual for whatever they are summoning." He drew one of his Force Resistant arrows, cocking it ready as he crept up behind Allyson.

Lowering his voice, "Hey, Allyson, whose that? If I can get a bit closer, I could hit them with one of my Force Resistant arrows?" He asked as he attempted to move in more and take an aim at the Sith Emperor, even though he didn't realise the importance of this man, both to the Sith Empire and Allyson as well.

 

[Amun]

​

Location: Space ---> Hangar
Allies: [member="Atlas Kane"] | [member="Ras Val'Kor"] | [member="Darth Arabris"] | [member="Vanessa Vantai"] | [member="Garek Kalkat"]
Enemies: [member="Judas Foster"] | [member="The Slave"] | [member="Julian Valentine"] | [member="A'lah the Green One"] | [member="Faye"]
Objective: Aid Atlas
Gear:

Spoiler

-Check Bio
-Concussion Grenades (2)
-Thermal Detonators (2)
-EMP Grenades (2)

With the arrival of the fleet a dropship, containing Amun, launched itself from a warship and was heading towards the hangar where Atlas directed him to be at; which the Sith Lord should be at any moment. No craft came from the hangars of the Technicolor and the lack of any short range weapons from the battlecruiser would make this flight very pleasant and easy. No rough landings today, but it would be a battle when inside of the hangar due to the large number of droids that were the sentinels of the Technicolor. Not to mention other anti-boarding emplacements that were installed within the ship would make it more unpleasant for those boarding and trying to take the ship from within.

Something that his employer, Atlas, wanted very much that ship for himself with minimal damages.

The Kyuzo Bounty Hunter sent out a signal to Atlas symbolizing that his arrival was near as he readied his equipment. He lacked what most standard soldiers were equipped for when it came to war, but he had no need of that. No, his training that he received from his proud people on Phatrong made it so that he did not need to depend on technology in combat. His prized war helmet, valued, martial skills in close quarters, and his remarkable biological traits were enough to make him an efficient warrior and bounty hunter.

In time, the dropship finally arrived to the designated hangar that Amun was instructed to land in. Upon arrival the pilot warned those aboard the transport of patrols of droids within the vicinity that appeared to be hostiles. Along with that were two beings. One was familiar as it was Atlas, and the other some sort of accomplice. Well ex-accomplice.

The boarding ramp hissed as it opened, letting Amun and a squad of troops. Others would probably join the fray in this particular. If not, no need to worry. The Kyuzo could hopefully make something work out for him. Besides he has a Sith Lord as an ally. What could possibly go wrong?

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Location: Asation
Objective: Do evil things
Allies: [member="Darth Prazutis"], [member="Taeli Raaf"], [member="Fiolette Yvarro"], [member="Darth Caecus"], [member="Luca Thorne"], [member="Kaalia Pavanos"], [member="Preliat Mantis"], [member="Vilaz Munin"], [member="Silas Mantis"], [member="Ordo Darnuhoy"]
Enemies: [member="Varex"], [member="Avoim Oeymo"], [member="Kamon Vondiranach"], [member="Jyoti Nooran"], [member="Allyson Locke"], [member="Kahne Porte"], [member="Valkren Calderon"], [member="Yuroic Xeraic"]
Gear:

• Below Signature
• Shield Talisman
• Pins of Protection

Carnifex watched, almost disinterested, as those soldiers who had pledged their lives and their hearts to the Empire were cut down and destroyed by the enemies of the Dark. In the end, they meant very little to him, expendable cogs in a monstrous machine that was far greater in scope than any one man or woman, and it could afford to discard some of its components now and then. Imperial Legionnaires died, their bodies either scythed by a Jedi's lightsaber or riddled full of blaster bolts or succumbed to some other malady of technology or the Force, and then they rose again as the Shadow Hand stretched forth his blackened claw over the battlefield and left only walking corpses in his wake.

Friend and foe, all were made to dance as puppets to the Dark Side's tune.

But not him, not the Emperor, the insidious Dark Lord of the Sith that had set so many disastrous events into motion over the course of fifty years. He was not a dancer, he was the composer. The notes that he had drawn with pristine brilliance made the galaxy twirl and somersault to the Dark Side's melody. Madness and death had been made subservient to the Sith Empire as war raged across the galaxy, each conflict fueling the Dark Side with every act of callous disregard and malign cruelty. And the Jedi had willingly played their part, acting as the crusading zeal with which the Emperor could utilize to spark the conflagration that consumed the Galactic Alliance.

They obviously had some help from the Lady of Secrets, but she merely enflamed those passions and emotions that had already run deep in the New Jedi Order. Ever since their inception, they had served as a powderkeg, all too eager to see the Dark Side ripped out and eradicated wherever it manifested, not knowing that by just fighting in the war they had already lost to the Dark Side.

And now here were more hapless fools, eager to fight and eager to serve a cause that they didn't truly know anything about.

Peace? The Emperor mentally scoffed, Peace was a lie.

Movement on the perimeter of the battle drew his attention away from the chaotic cacophony, his eyesight greater than that of an ordinary man as he scanned the swamp and treeline. Something had seen him, had recognized him and recoiled in horror. He could sense it through the Force that flowed through every fiber of his being, and he knew that they would be coming for him. To end his reign of terror in one last glorious battle to decide the fate of the universe.

How naive.

But still, the Emperor was growing bored with merely watching from the sidelines even if it was necessary. He would indulge these infidels if they so wished.

He called upon the Force, gathering it to himself and wrapping himself within it. He breathed it in and held it whirling inside his heart, cleaning down upon it until he could the spin of the galaxy around him. Until he became the axis of the universe. This was the real power of the Dark Side, the power he had suspected even as a boy, had sought through his long life until he had seized it with uncompromising hands and bent it until it existed only to serve his will. The Dark Side didn't bring him to the center of the universe, it made him the center. It flowed off of his muscular body like waves of frigid ice water, the temperature plummeting until the faintest whispers of his breath could be seen on the air.

And if one looked through the Force at the Sith Emperor, they would see him for what he really was. For Darth Carnifex was neither a roaring inferno of hate, nor was he a serpent of treachery and deceit.

Darth Carnifex was an event horizon.

Beneath his regal and muscular surface was absolute, perfect nothingness. Darkness beyond darkness. A black hole of the Force.

A black hole that beckoned the champions of the Light to try and extinguish him, urging them to give it their all or die in the attempt. He ignited his lightsaber, a bloodshine blade snap-hissing into existing to bathe his surroundings with unnatural crimson light, and he waited.

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

ALLIES: [member="Belphaegor"] | [member="Tabigarashu Madara"] | [member="Lok Munin"] | [member="Anden Fancelo"]
ENEMIES: [member="Elpsis Kerrigan-Alcori"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Noah Corek"] | [member="Ursula Vizla"]
OBJECTIVE: Oxygen.
GEAR: Suit | Saber

Any allusion to vaguely appetizing cooking methods was gone, burning flesh giving way to fat popping and skin melting. Darth Sicarii had, for all his apparent shortcomings, been a particularly sadistic and creative individual and his lightsaber did not simply cauterize like a traditional blade - it set things ablaze. There was a delicious irony to turning fire against Elpsis,

But the dangerous thing about fighting someone who was not on your side, but not on their side either, was unpredictability. A Jedi might escape pain and find peace in the Force, flow through it to comfortable numbness. A Sith would use it for gain. And a Kerrigan would find some mixture Matsu assumed - it was the only explanation for the sudden agony in her lungs. It came out of nowhere, searing the inside of her throat. She immediately disengaged, two steps back and holding her saber up in her left hand as a guard as the right went to her chest as if that might help. “What the feth are you doi--”

Some hideous explosion rocked in her chest and for a moment she was sure she’d been hit or something had exploded in the hangar and shaken her balance. It wasn’t until she took a breath and found it wouldn’t go in that she realized what the younger woman had done. It’s GONE, it’s gone, this fething ticking in my chest is gone but that means it’s ALL gone and I…

Matsu collapsed, her body immediately rattling against the floor in convulsions. There were systems within her body to compensate for this - for all of that inside her which was no longer human - but incineration was tricky. One cybernetic lung collapsed and the other shocked and frozen as it tried to come back online.

Down the hall, the two trapped Rebels made their break for it. Neither knowing Elpsis was blind in the traditional sense, they saluted her anyway before sprinting down the hallway. fast fast fast go faster it’s coming go faster hurry up

The first shockwave that came out of Matsu was a warning, something like a volcano rocking the earth - a chance to gain distance, if one was in their right mind. The second however, was nothing of the sort. Completely without control of her mind, fighting off unconsciousness and the inevitable death that would follow, Matsu’s power welled desperately out of her. Like the ship leaving the wartorn planet of Dxun - a ghost by the time it had landed back on Maena, guided only by Six-O whom, without a brain, was not susceptible to the insanity placed on the crew by the effects of Matsu’s fevered nightmares - the Acerbitas buckled.

A blast of pure Dark Side energy exploded out of her, sorcery working mindlessly to protect its host perhaps. It devoured anything around her, disintegrating walls, ceilings, floors - she was beyond caring, feeling none of the debris that shot in tiny pieces in all directions as electronics were set alight. Anything sentient caught in the radius, a globe that reached outwards more than it did up or down, would be incinerated if they weren’t wearing extreme protection or hadn’t gained enough distance.

When Matsu opened her eyes, blood coating her cheeks from where she’d vomited during the seizure, the world around her was a blasted shell. Wiring sparked, the edges of floors above and below her were blackened and shriveled. The one cybernetic lung was breathing for two. She scrambled to get her feet underneath her, clumsy and dizzy but somehow managing as she turned to get her bearings.

Up a floor, and out, she thought.
And hopefully Elpsis had been incinerated in the blast.

Exhausted, Matsu pressed on and looked for a way up a floor.

Above, the two Rebels held on to each other for just a moment in relief before sprinting towards the delegated emergency gathering point.

Eight minutes.

 

[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"]​

Lady Zambrano

It wasn't too often she got that designation. More commonly she was referred to as Knight Zambrano, or Captain. She was also quite accustomed to being referred to as Ma'am or Sir, which came out of habit in her occupation as a Captain of the Legion. She could most definitely get used to it, and then Thyne said the same thing and the entire facade of it fell apart.

"No Thyne, you're fine."

Joycelyn put a hand on Thyne's black and white shoulder, not squeezing quite as hard as before nor appearing quite as threatening as when she had forced the helmet onto his head. This was almost a comforting touch, but definitely one with the purpose of seeing that he did not go off anywhere and got himself killed. She faced Khonsu, shoulders squared, head turning down to look where she estimated the Thyrsian's face to be.

"That is I." "I have heard of your exploits in our previous campaigns. Your record is quite impressive" "I must ask you to thank whoever captained the Corvette during our landing. It saved a lot of good troops from a bad fate."

More importantly, she remembered his fights in the tourney too. She had been excited to face him, but alas had not gotten the opportunity. Yet, the Sun Guard's record from Jaminere, Fondor, Dubrillon, and countless other battlefields, told her enough: These were allies worth keeping.

"Let me introduce Thyne, my-" A split moment's pause as she considered. "Attaché" Sufficiently vague. The hand that rested on Thyne's shoulder urged him forward, silently suggesting that he greet Khonsu respectfully. Though, she made sure to cut in before it all got out of hand or too awkward for her tastes.

"General Vexen is intercepting Gree evacuations, but we have yet to receive any order to fire upon the ships." She eagerly awaited further order from the General "Our enemy is fortifying the city. We have sent out scouts, but they have yet to report back" With their rough landing, she did not want to walk blindly into a massacre. "For now, we have begun establishing our artillery and fortifying an eighty kilometer line around the city." "We are currently awaiting a newly requested shield generator to protect us from those blasted ships should they take another swipe at us."

It was a lot to take in, a complex situation that could change at any moment, and Joycelyn did not seem like the kind of Commander who sat back and waited. No, she wanted to be out there with her men, leading from the front line and cracking skulls with that silver baton. From the darkened skies above, the rain heavier than ever. It pattered against their armours and obscured the far vision, but it did not obscure the Sith-Imperials spirit of conquest.

On the crest of the slope, the Powerhammers turned and dropped their bulk down. The massive cannons raised and pivoted at their root, like accusing fingers turning to point to the city itself. Meanwhile, the Harbingers set their positions as well, but their muzzles did not turn to the city. Nay, they turned skyward, to the battle and the evacuation. All they needed was an order from the General and they would begin to pluck ships out of low orbit.

Heavily armed walkers set in motion, tightening the noose around the capital of Gree.

The scouts, racing along on speederbikes, lightly armed, but equipped to spot and communicate back to command. The rain made their jobs harder, but the sensors they carried, and the expertise they inhabited made them more than able to perform their task. Some were picked off by rebel forces, or were forced to turn tail and flee before their lives were at stake.

LS3837 dropped down in a muddy ditch as he brought up his com and transmitted in encrypted Imperial code:

Rebel Defence Line, 400 meters from city limit.​

Visibility: Low. No sign of air support. ​

Caution! Unidentified elements present.​

Scout team trapped.​

A shot went off overhead, causing the scout to duck down and cup his hands over his head. His bike had simply seized functioning and he was not sure how to get out of this hole without being shot, so he waited and hoped for the cavalry to arrive.

 

[Atlas Kane]

Inside the Hangar
Serving the Sith Empire with [member=Darth Arabris], [member=Amun], [member=Ras Val'kor], and [member=Nixia Amabilia]
To eliminate the Rebel Alliance, [member=Judas Foster], [member=Julian Valentine], [member=A'lah The Green One] and to capture [member=The Slave]


The quiet rumble of distant turbolaser fire continued throughout the entire ship. The occasional tremors disturbed the ship's balance, no doubt caused by substantial damage to parts of its outer hull. The battle was visible through the small snapshot of the wider picture that the massive airlock delivered. A few ships were visible, red, green, and blue streaks of light racing to and from the Technicolor Beat over immense distances. Outside the hangar was where they would be headed, into that wild display of lights, each one of which could bring destruction on a gruesome scale. It would no doubt be a perilous journey, but if they played their cards right the desired outcomes would be achieved. In his mind, navigating the battlefield outside was not just the more pressing concern, but also the greater challenge.

Without much thought he leaned against the wall next to the main exit of the ship, calculating their chances of survival and rigorously attempting to determine their safest approach vectors. The quiet whine of the engines filled the room as he weighed the disadvantages of their situation. Despite their nature as hunter and target, they'd still be in the same metaphorical boat the moment the ship left the Beat's hangar; a circumstance that would aid his image as an ally but would risk his life in the process. Though he supposed it could have been worse, he could have had to battle The Slave and his taller friend on the bridge only to get torn apart by friendly fire. Though little comfort came from that thought, as while the former had been avoided, the latter still very well might happen.

His attention turned back to the man before him, tapping away at different keys, deep in his own thoughts, until a shift occurred. For a brief moment, the man paused and something about him changed. A small, almost unnoticeable detail only perceptible through the Force. That minute change then gave way to a more familiar presence, a fiery emotion that had a far stronger familiarity to the Sith. The faintest smirk crept into Atlas' face.

"Didn't Cybele tell you?"

He answered with a cold tone, devoid of any emotion. There were only a few reasons his target's mindset could have shifted that way. Sudden ill news about the status of the vessel, or one of his allies. More reinforcements that had sealed the fate of this engagement, or a realisation of his friend's true intentions. While there were many possibilities, the man's tone and the almost accusatory shift of his attention to Atlas left little room for any other option.

"I did. Not intentionally, of course, but nonetheless they seem to have followed me here." A bluff he was certain would be disregarded. His target's mental state seemed to indicate less inclination to believe a defence that was so hard to verify. "They must have calculated my ship's hyperspace trajectory after I first escape their attempts at capture." He continued without missing a beat. In his mind, it was now or never. If he waited any sooner he would lose the element of surprise, or what little he had left of it at least.

Mid-sentence he pushed himself off the wall to stand upright next to the ship's entrance, uncrossing his arms to shrug, holding his hands out in a gesture indicating ignorance. Then, as he uttered his final words, he let the emotion of all those scared, angry beings dying all over the ship flow through him again, igniting the inner fire of the Dark Side once more, and channeled it all into a powerful force blast, aiming it in front of him with the goal of throwing The Slave into the canopy of the ship right as the last syllable escaped his mouth.

---

Special Operations Team Wo, onboard the Technicolor Beat
Serving with the Sith Empire and effectively under Sith Atlas Kane and with Sith Naval Officers [member=Garen Kalkat] and [member=Vanessa Vantai]
To Eliminate the Rebel Alliance by destroying the AI Core


The disruptor's green beam tore right into the cannon's centre, melting a sizeable hole through it. The damage caused was then quickly followed by a small explosion that destroyed the turret in its entirety. Ceth had taken a few grazing shots, yet the speed at which his partner managed to act had spared him a far more gruesome fate. On the other end, the remaining six operatives all coordinate their fire, rapidly slinging blaster bolt after blaster bolt into the turret. Their initial barrage had hit the thing's servomotors, causing many of its shots to go astray. Its bullets began burying themselves into the ground and walls or ricocheting a few times before they lost the majority of their deadly power and either came to rest somewhere or followed their other brethren into tombs of metal. Despite this the team members continued to fire, inflicting mostly surface damage on the turret despite their combined accuracy. It wasn't until a second disruptor shot rang out that the turret's pained whines ceased and another loud burst of thunder echoed through the large hall.

The team's medical professional immediately rushed over to the wounded operative's side, applying synthflesh and bacta gel to the openly bleeding wound of the soldier whilst injecting her with pain dulling chemicals. While there were groans, her discipline won out over the instinct to panic. Ceth meanwhile borrowed one of the synthflesh packets and began applying the material to his own wounds.

The rest of the team all assumed defensive positions as their leader stood next to the team's medic as he worked, digging stray rounds out of the chest plate of his armour. "Monte, do you still have that line?"

"Yes, sir."

"Put me through."

"Ok, establishing ultra-tight beam connection momentarily. The extra power cells I put in should give it enough strength to-"

"I don't need the technical details, just get me the line." There was no annoyance or hostility in his voice. By keeping the newest member of their unit focused on his job he made sure that his thoughts were where they should be and not contemplating fear.

After a few more moments of observing the panel on his wrist, Monte gave his team leader the go-ahead sign without even looking.

"Sith Fleet ship, this is the leader of Special Operations Team Wo on board the vessel you are firing upon. Dial back the intensity of your fire before you kill all Sith Forces on board. Wo Leader out." The message was directed towards the flagship of Void Irregular fleet. It had the legitimate operations codes of Sith special ops encoded and was encrypted as per Sith standards. With the interference to their comms, the team leader didn't know whether the message got through in one piece or arrived as a garbled mess, but he trusted his tech-specialist. The kid was green, but he knew his stuff.

 

[Darth Bellum]

​

Kor Vexen

---

---

Aboard The Baal above Gree, Gehenna Fleet
Maintain the blockade around Gree

The armored general stood beside the vice admiral that commanded the Gehenna Fleet, his gaze observing the reports from the battlefront on the planet's surface whilst his naval counterpart was busy instructing and issuing orders to his fleet as Gree evacuation ships were being herded on board the larger vessels to take in the fleeing refugees. A part of Vexen had hope, that the rebels would use this opportunity to have snuck some of their own aboard his ships to attempt and sabotage his fleet; it would have given him a perfect excuse to lay waste to every Gree citizen in an attempt to cull the boarders. But that outcome remained to be seen.

A protective swarm of starfighters and bombers patrolled the fleet like an angry yet organized swarm of hornets, poised to strike any ship down that refused to cooperate. Like the enemies of the Empire had done to her citizens in the past, the Empire would return in kind by abducting theirs, though to some it may appear as a godsend that the overwhelming might of the Sith Armada had come to offer them safety.

Ground vehicles and troops had begun deploying en masse to the surface of Gree as General Vexen folded his arms over his chest. Many of his peers were thirsty for blood and destruction, but he had to keep their leashes short and channel their fury and wrath to their true enemy. An officer would turn from his station as he spoke up, "General, ground forces are requesting orders on fleeing vessels from the planet. Harbingers are on standby."

Vexen would not take his gaze away from the holotable that displayed the city in front of him, but gave a vocoded response, " The Gree Council have agreed to our terms. The evacuation ships attempting to flee the battle are to be left alone..." Vexen would pause before speaking again, tacking on a stipulation that would offer some respite to their lust to kill, " However, any vessel that is armed or considered armed is to be shot down, immediately. " The officer would nod as he relayed Vexen's orders to the ground.

Vice Admiral Jaisal Korunna would turn to Vexen with a smirk as the Atrisian man raised a hand to stroke his beard before speaking up in a rather chipper tone, " How generous of you to honor such a declaration. It is unbecoming of your status and rank within the Sith ranks to be showing such mercy to those who harbored rebels. " Vexen would respond as he glanced down at the vice admiral, " Predictability with one's tactics leads to a swift defeat Vice Admiral. If I were to make it a habit of mine to command and issue orders that one would expect a Sith to issue, then the enemy would possess an advantage. Shortsightedness is an unforgiving weakness on the battlefield. "

He'd pause before returning his gaze and continuing to speak, " If we are to return to Gree in the future after having failed to abide by our agreement, the natives may not be so compliant to become part of our empire, and their technology is not something to be overlooked either if we can assimilate it for our own purposes. " The Vice Admiral would chuckle before closing his eyes, content with the response and Vexen's confidence in his own thoughts and actions. If there was one thing they most certainly agreed on it was their mentality of looking to the future.

The political outcry of firing upon civilians after they have declared neutrality would have caused more pain to the Empire's image than it already was with the slander of so-called Jedi and their allies. If they could gain the favor of the civilian population, that was already half a battle won in the future. The city may burn, but like Mirial, they could assist in rebuilding if they ever returned to Gree.

However, this did open up an opportunity with the evacuation ships left to flee the capital. With the enemy setting up fortifications around it and the ground forces of the Legion setting up, the unrelenting and unforgiving siege could begin. Vexen would turn to a holo terminal as he issued the long-awaited order to the ground commanders, " Begin sieging the capital and slaughter the rebels that are amassing defenses. Collateral damages will be blamed upon the rebels that have chosen to fight us around the city. Reduce the city to rubble if you must, I want those rebels dead. "

For the Glory of the Sith Empire​

[member="Wyatt Morga"] | [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] | [member="Thyne"] | [member="Khonsu Amon"] | [member="Vestille Thumahra"] | [member="Djorn Bline"]​

Gehenna Fleet

Spoiler

Lead Ship |
The Baal - Ferrata Class Corps Assault Carrier

Composition |
[Star Destroyers]
The Gusion - Marr Class Star Destroyer
The Agares - Marr Class Star Destroyer
The Astaroth - Angral Class Star Destroyer

[Cruisers]
The Dantalion - Eradicator Class Heavy Cruiser

[Carriers]
The Barbatos - Vyitka Class Escort Carrier
The Vual - Vyitka Class Escort Carrier
The Crocell - Vyitka Class Escort Carrier

[Interdictors]
The Flauros - Incapacitator Class Interdiction Cruiser
The Vapula - Incapacitator Class Interdiction Cruiser

[Frigates]
The Shax - Velox Class Fast Frigate
The Orias - Velox Class Fast Frigate
The Kimaris - Velox Class Fast Frigate

Total Length | 12,337 meters (12.337 km)

 

[Bernard]

Industrial Sector, Construction Zone
Serving the Rebel Alliance with [member=Wyatt Morga]
Defending against [member=Vestille Thumahra] on top of an unfinished skyscraper's roof while it's getting dark and starting to rain.


When his opponent drew the second pistol Bernard's footwork shifted ever so slightly. His back foot, previously facing forwards, shifted sideways, widening the angle between it and the other. The grip on his Lightsaber's hilt tightened. Controlled breathing kept his head focused and allowed his muscles a few heartbeats of relaxation. The cyan beam of his lightsaber followed his opponent as the first shot erupted. His upper body shifted so its angle matched that of his back foot, his hand left the hilt of his lightsaber simultaneously as his arm moved to extend itself backwards. He could feel the heat of the beam pass by his fingers. His eyes had never left his opponent, however, and his lightsaber quickly moved to intercept the blaster's bolt. Right before it made contact he could feel the next shot before it even released, there wouldn't be enough time to reflect accurately. With a lazy flick, the original bolt was redirected into the ground harmlessly just as the other gun flared to life again. The beam made contact with the upper part of the sabre, half a metre in front of Bernard's face. Its explosion rocked the blade backwards a small distance and the blinding light forced his eyes shut, his free arm coming up to shield his face reflexively. With his eyes closed his mind relied on instincts and the Force to predict the next shots.

Even with its guidance, he barely managed to move his blade to intercept the blaster's next bolt. The grip on his lightsaber's hilt had shifted, making manoeuvering it awkward. Instinctively he moved its blade to intercept the path of the next shot, only to have it impact the blade's lower half. The explosion rocked his arm back by a few centimetres, throwing off his momentum completely. When the next bolt came he elected to shift to the side rather than attempt to deflect it, quickly stepping backwards with his forward foot. This short reprieve was enough to reposition the blade in front of him again. The situation was bad. His grip was awkward, his eyes were still recovering from the blinding flash, and he'd underestimated the frequency at which his opponent was able to shoot. The constantly changing vectors of attack also made things difficult, had it not been for many years of training with the Third Form he'd likely been dead already.

Moments after the blaster's bolt had flown past his side, the crack of the beam weapon announced another attempt at the Jedi's life. With his weight still shifted to one side it would be impossible to dodge without opening himself up for an easy kill. His only option was to move the sabre to intercept. At blinding speed his hand moved in front of his body, the blade parallel to the ground and facing away from him. He attempted to counter the kick of the beam's explosive impact with momentum of his own, attempting to swing the sabre into the beam's path, but his timing was off. He was too used to the slower travel speed of blasters and had overestimated the time it would take the beam to travel from the gun's barrel towards himself. He felt the heat before his mind processed what had happened. The beam had made contact with the emitter of his sabre, the explosion catching his hand in the process. A loud outcry of pain broke the silence between the two combatants as his hand opened itself and his fingers lost their grip on the hilt. The blade was flung backwards, off the building's roof. He'd been disarmed.

Adrenaline rushed through his body as the scorched nerves of his hand sent pain through his entire system. The Jedi forced his eyes open, pale white dots trained directly at his opponent. Battlewounds were nothing new to the Arkanian. The shock that came with them never faded, nonetheless, after sufficiently many encounters he'd trained himself to keep his mind clear by allowing the Force to guide him during battle, rather than his physical senses. For the brief second that he stood there defenceless, it was what kept him from losing his concentration, what had saved his life many times before. With the pain came the decision to make a retaliatory strike. His defence was broken, his only option was to go on the offensive. As the next bolt rang out, he let himself fall backwards, out of its path. As the distance between him and the ground closed, his eyes were focused on the two weapons of his opponents. As much as his instincts told him to throw the soldier off the building or kill him otherwise using the Force, he resisted. Guilt poisoned his mind. There had been enough bloodshed. He was determined to end this fight without another body littering the surface of Gree. Instead, he channelled the Force to summon those invisible hands again. They were wrapped around his opponent's pistols and with a quick pulling motion of his healthy arm, he attempted to rip them out of the soldier's grasp. It was his only chance to stay in this fight.

For the brief instant when his back hit the concrete floor he allowed a thought to wander to his late master.

 

[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). Elsewhere: [member="Tabigarashu Madara"]. [member="Belphaegor"], [member="Kyrel Ren"], [member="Lok Munin"], [member="Anden Fancelo"]
Allies elsewhere: [member="Cedric Grayson"], [member="Noah Corek"]


Boom!


Well, that summed it up.


The entire hallway trembled, as if struck by an earthquake. Then a blast of pure dark side energy exploded like a veritable bomb. It was, for a moment, like staring into a white-hot reactor core. The power on display here was awe-inspiring. Beautiful and terrible to behold.


Ceilings, floors and walls were disintegrated or blasted apart. Electronics were set alight or exploded, a storm of debris rained down from the holes above. Rebels ran. Those who had been cheering Elpsis were fortunate enough to escape the apocalyptic blast. Others were not so lucky. Body parts were strewn across the broken hall. Or just charred flesh and bone.


And what of Elpsis?


She had felt the ripples in the Force. The initial blast had knocked her off her feet. As she arose, she perceived the globe of darkness expanding at a rapid rate. The empath ran, tried to find cover, but stumbled over a corpse. The Force wrapped itself around her like a cocoon, forming the strongest shield she could envisage. She braced herself, and then there was anguish. Darkness claimed her as her eyes closed.


The landscape shifted. She was back in the training room again. She was down on the ground, bleeding from a stab wound in her abdomen. Siobhan Kerrigan stood above, dressed in dark red robes, holding a blade. More blood seeped out of her injury. Elpsis clutched the spot with her hand. Her breathing was heavy. "Did you really have to stab that deep?" she snarked.

"Yes," Siobhan's response was chilly.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to kill me."

"You're lucky I'm not. Because if this were real, I'd have proceeded to cut your throat and let you drown in your own blood."

"Yeah, whatever, got a bandage? Bacta?"

"No. Cauterise it with fire."

"What? You nuts?"

"This isn't a request or a polite suggestion, girl. Do it now."

"You realise you're frakking nuts? And a huge jerk?"

"As much as you realise you're annoying. Now do it. It is what Adril did when she was hurt and could not be patched up. Don't embarrass us by falling unconscious."

And so she did. Mercifully, Siobhan gave her some cloth to bite down on - and keep herself from biting off her tongue. Anguish surged through her as she drew upon her fire to cauterise her injuries. "If you think it hurts now, wait until you're in battle. Now stop gabbling!"

"Why are you so hateful to me? Always angry, always putting me down. You weren't like this to Aba, Galina or hell even Nato. They all run off. Gave up on their family. You were kind to them. Hell, you keep their holopics in your office."

"To remind myself of failure, girl. I gave them everything and they turned their backs on our family. I was indulgent. Foolishly. If you think this is harsh, fine. I'm harsh to you to make you strong. I push you so that you excel. So that you're able to survive when I'm not there to hold your hand," Siobhan stepped towards Elpsis. She inspected the wound, then tossed her a bacta patch.

"High or low, death comes for us all. Even for those fools who think playing with midichlorians or stuffing their souls into clone body after clone body makes them immortal. Before long I'll be dead, so will Tegs. You'll still be alive. So will Adril and Livia. It will fall to you to protect them. I need you to become the woman you were always meant to be," Siobhan said softly, intently, placing her hand on Elpsis' bruised cheek. "Not next year, not tomorrow. Now."


The vision faded and Elpsis awoke. Her body was a mass of pain. Everything seemed to hurt. She was also buried beneath debris. It hurt even to breathe, for her ribs howled in protest. One had to be broken. Actually, screw that, several had been broken. Smoke flooded her lungs as she struggled to breathe and she coughed badly, spitting up blood.


Slowly, she crawled forward, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. She tried to feel her left arm...and found there was nothing left of it but a stump. "I will be that woman, mother," she whispered quietly, spitting more blood. Klaxxons howled, but she could not hear them, for the explosion had deafened her.


Her good, remaining hand went to her stump. Oh, no, this would suck. She felt white-hot pain, as blazing heat filled her. The pain only grew with each moment that passed, but she persevered. It was just pain, it was just pain. Pain that made her feel like her blood had been transformed into molten metal and her body was being filled with red hot lead. Finally, it was over and her wound was cauterised.


She crawled out of the wreckage. Her bolter had been destroyed by the blast, and she would have been unable to use it anyway. When she arose, she did so clumsily, feeling dizzy. Her legs hated her, and it seemed her skull had manifested similar sentiments. Emergency lights flickered, and there was noise coming from the hangar. She was blind to the former and deaf to the latter. At any rate, she was close to collapsing. Elpsis knew nothing of the countdown or of the ceasefire that may or may not hold. What she knew was that the Dark Lady was still out there somewhere.


Her body demanded rest. Adrenaline and sheer dumb stubbornness kept her going. Typical Kerrigan stubbornness, mayhaps. But that would not be enough to keep herself from collapsing soon. Through the Force, she perceived the Dark Lady's aura. The fire rose inside and exploded from her one good hand, rushing towards the Dark Woman in a large fireball.

 

[Valkren Calderon]

Location: Pantera-Class Stealth Frigate Nightshade ---> Surface​

Objective: Deploy to Ruins, Halt Sith Activities​

Assets: First Ranger Special Tactics Unit, droid reinforcements​

Nearby: [member="Kahne Porte"] | [member="Yuroic Xeraic"] | [member="Jyoti Nooran"]|[member="Allyson Locke"]​

Equipment: Armor | rifle | sidearm | Melee | Holdout |​

________________________________________________________________________________​

Rounds began popping off from several of the forward ranger groups as Sith spawn became apparent to the Silver attack team. The droids seemed to be doing most of the work for them for now.

Valkren made sure that his command squad remained in contact with their platoon leaders to keep their movements tight and efficient with the new threat to them. For now, no casualties had been reported from his immediate group.

Calderon was one of the first to spot the figures approaching from another direction than that of the Sith spawn, the approaching runner was lucky that their commanding officer didn't have as itchy of a trigger finger as many of the rangers did. Once she issued the thorough command to hold, he'd turn and look to either side of him and hold his hand up in the air, flat palmed for his people to see.

The runner approached the command group, Valkren intercepted him with his armored body before he could run further blindly into the horde of rangers and droids. After being informed of the situation at hand, Valkren passed along the communication channel to his squad, more importantly Bowers.

"Corporal I need you to get back in contact with those marines. Transmit them our location after you make sure that its a safe channel." The colonel emphasized the part about the safe channel, jabbing his index finger into Bower's chest plate.

The corporal nodded, taking his communications kit and moving further into cover of their squads.

"Lieutenant Harris!" Valkren called out for his XO soon after dismissing the corporal. Konrad wasn't that far off, he came trotting back from the direct front, the barrels of his rotary cannon facing in the air.

"Aye sir?"

"I need you to take a platoon and move with the runner back to the major's position, Bowers will let them know your coming. Get in contact once you get in range. We'll move onto the ruins together!"

Konrad nodded, picking out a group of fifteen or so rangers from their immediate surrounding. He'd move to the runner to let him know they were ready to move out.

As the platoon led by his friend left their strike team, his attention would be directed right back to their front lines again. Things got chaotic, fast. The sithspawn had doubled in numbers, and now the undead seemed to be rising all about them. They began to advance on the rangers positions. With Valkren back at the front, the first moment he'd raise his blaster rifle and let out another shot, it was on. The rest of the operatives followed suit. A hail of blaster bolts and slugs peppered the surrounding area of the swamp in-between them and the ruins, each ranger picking out a specific target as they closed in on them, doing their part to keep the horde at bay.

Their groups commander, Allyson, shot ahead with her droids. She knew something about this battle, something that the he didn't.

Yuoric came behind Valkren while he was facing ahead, using a some brush as monetary cover between himself and the undead. He'd send several more blaster bolts down range, forcing a pair of 'zombies' to crumple on impact. The Jedi informed Valk of his plans to move up with Allyson, and what the rangers should do. Valkren nodded, motioning his head towards the ruins and where Allyson had moved to with a group of her droids.

"Get movin' then! We got this!"

Valkren hated to let the two advance ahead so far without full support of his battle group, but they had a mission at hand, and he assumed the Jedi knew more about it than himself. Valkren looked back ahead, the number of sithspawn and undead were still growing..Almost as if someone had sent these forces to their direct position.

Rangers behind the command group began to move up through the spot, staring to form their 'protected area' as the enemy became another great horde quickly. Specialist Lowder came out of nowhere, moving to the cover that Valkren was using. The colonel could hear his heavy breathing, probably due to carrying the weight of the armor through the muck of the swamp.

"With me, Johnny?" Valkren took one hand off his rifle, offering a fist bump to the specialist.

"With ya, boss." He connected it, shouldering his own rifle again as the rest of their battle group formed on them.

"No use in hiding all of us anymore boys, let's get this!"

With his last transmission, he'd move back out over cover into the fray once more. He made sure his steps were at the front of his group during this advance, no matter how slow they were as he blasted away at the approaching spawn. The members of the Radama Raiders followed suit, moving in a staggered set with each of their platoon leaders into the chaotic mess that was the swamp.

The mass of rangers firing their blasters and slug throwers into the swamp was enough of a yell for attention than anything else, it was what he was trying to do, agro the Sith towards them. He was practically telling them to come a get 'him,' as they moved to cut through the group of spawn.

The large number of rangers pushed forward slowly, or atleast the best they could. The rangers in front of the mix would unload their weapons into specific targets once again until their weapons were empty, while those that couldn't find a spot directly at the frontline waited for those in front of them to run out of ammunition. There was a fresh ranger ready to take the spot of any man or woman in need of a reload, and everything seemed to be working fine for now..As long as they held their ground however far up they moved.

Eventually, a quick reanimated corpse got too close for comfort for the colonel, causing him to strike the undead spawn with the stock of his weapon, only to finish it off with the stomp of his boot. He'd do this with aggression and as much speed as he could, knowing the next enemy could be on him in a moment if he didn't get his weapon up again.

"Come on! We're ready for you, Sith scum!" His words came straight from his republic heart, yelling as if he was a marine once more within the GR. Different uniforms..Same wars.

Just behind the rangers' front line, Bowers was busy on his long-range communicator, his sidearm in his free hand and ready incase one of the sithspawn broke the line of rangers.

His voice yelled out into the 'phone,' "We need that Air support here, asap! Still waiting on our eyes on too! Is anyone listening?"

--------------------​

​

On the other side of the swamp, Lieutenant Konrad Harris was trudging along in the muck, lugging his rotary cannon along with him and complaining behind his visor the entire time. A group of fifteen rangers followed closer behind himself and the runner from their allied group.

"Anyone there? This is Lieutenant Harris with Antarian Ranger SPTU. Think we might of found one of your boys. We're moving to you now. Comin' to show you marine boys how to fight, yeah?"

The lieutenant sent out the transmission, hopping onto the frequency that the runner had assisted him with. His hope was to retrieve the marine group and return to the colonel right away with the added firepower.

[member="Varex"]​

[member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Preliat Mantis"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"] | [member="Fiolette Yvarro"] | [member="Darth Caecus"] | [member="Luca Thorne"] | [member="Kaalia Pavanos"]

 

[Allyson Locke]

Location: Gree Ruins
Allies: [member="Yuroic Xeraic"] | [member="Valkren Calderon"] | [member="Kahne Porte"] | [member="Jyoti Nooran"] | @Other Rebel Folk
Enemies: [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | @Kaalia Pravanos | @Other Sith Folk
Objective: Defeat [member="Darth Carnifex"]
Engaging: Carnifex


The armor was something else, she would have to thank her cousin for it more than what she already had. John was a good guy and without her immediate family, John and his family was all she had left. Allyson knew she should visit her aunt, but in the state of war they were constantly in – she never really knew when a good time would be.

It was funny how the mind worked, here she was moving, stalking the man that tortured her and threatened those she loved. Yet her mind wandered to her aunt and her cousin. Allyson wondered if she should stop it, but instead she let her mind play over pleasant memories as she moved closer to Darth Carnifex. It was better than remembering that damp crypt and other terrible things. A voice whispered behind her and before she unloaded the shotgun into him, Allyson recognized the voice and turned her head slightly. They were still hidden, which was good and she quickly answered him.

“Dark Lord of the Sith, big important guy. I’m going to take him on distract him while the others stop whatever is going on down there.” The pair continued to creep along getting close enough for Yuroic to take a shot at him. “Cover me okay? I don’t think I can face him alone…” It was obvious by her tone of voice that she didn’t want to face him much at all, but it was something she needed to do. “I’m going to move in, draw him into close combat, you should get an opening – when you get it – take it no hesitations okay?” Allyson patted Yuroic on the shoulder and them moved closer to the dark lord.

She felt him in the Force and she did her best to keep herself calm. This was something she only dreamed about, though she didn’t realize how tall he was. Shrugging it off, she drew close enough and her shotgun was now level with his pelvis. A quick shot and the cloak faded from her sudden quick movements. The Corellian, like another before her – opened fire upon the Dark Lord of the Sith’s prized possession.

The good ol twig and sithberries.

Grinning Allyson snarked at the dark lord who in all his glory surrounded himself with the dark side, “Miss me?”

 

[Thyne]

​

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] | [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"]​

There was a sigh of relief as Joyce answered his question. Titles and names were hard enough to keep track of, adding more of them was just a mess waiting to happen. He flinched away from the hand at first as it descended to his shoulder, almost expecting a repeat with the helmet. Even when that seemed it wouldn't be the case, he half expected her to smack him or something. He wasn't quite sure how to react to that hand on his shoulder. Was this some form of comfort? From Joyce? Was he actually being accepted as at least some form of Zambrano?

As the two adults talked, Thyne continued to observe the ongoings of their fellows. One, in particular, was struggling to carry some supplies, half of their armful about to topple before Thyne intervened, giving the supplies just enough of a telekinetic push to stay in place. He nearly left Joyce and Khonsu to help, stopped only by Joyce's hand on his shoulder, pushing him forward to introduce himself.

Thyne felt a glimmer of hope as Joyce started to introduce him herself, that sensation dying as he was named as 'Attaché'. Just when he thought he was getting the recognition he so hoped for, nope. "Hi, I'm Thyne, the titled person of this and that. You were at the tournament, right?" His question was cut off as Joyce continued her briefing, something he'd continue once she stopped talking.

"I was there, too. You probably wouldn't recognize me with the helmet, but Joyce said she'd kill me if I took it off. Oh, yeah, we should probably get going before she kills me anyway. What are we doing?"

 

[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 - 1 Adhesive - 1 Flashbang | Explosives and timed detonators |

Dante recovered her own feet just as he reached her. The catwalk rocked precariously, the entire length swinging as the Jedi made his landing.

She didn't know why he paused, why he hesitated. Up until this moment, Dante had been in full on scramble mode. From moment to moment, always on the defensive, trying and failing to get a moment to breath, to take back the offensive. They were too far away, at the wrong angle, to catch sight of Jairus and Romi. Dante couldn't feel any of it- not the brightness at the understanding that she was alive, not the awareness from Jairus, not the sensation of something waiting, larger than them all. In that fashion, she was blind where they could see. As if from birth, the Legionnaire did not even know what she was missing.

Dante did not look too closely into it. She did not hesitate, wondering just why he was not pressing his advantage.

She didn't care.

The catwalk swayed, but this was movement she could more easily account for. The Minos pistol whipped up and she fired a pair of shots, center of mass as she started to move backward down the catwalk, increasing the distance between them. She didn't pepper the air- the limited ammunition of the Minos meant that every shot had to matter.

Had to count.

 

[Tehkyram]

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

Tehkyram's rage was absolute and bestial, and was finally emerging from blind fury into focused hatred. As he pivoted and took a few steps towards the Jedi, he could feel the pain on his injured leg. He was cut bad, it seemed, worse than he originally thought. The Jedi had wounded him. Not just his body, either, but his pride. He outplayed him and took advantage of his style's weakness to land a major hit. The Jedi was clever, clever enough to believe himself superior to Tehkyram. And so he only had one real thought left, one overarching desire to inflict upon this Jedi. He focused intently on him, and for the first time, spoke only one word.

"Suffer."

In one massive telekinetic blow, he directed all of his fury and hate at the hapless Jedi. It was a wave of raw brutish strength powered only by unfiltered anger. It was a grand exertion of energy and effort, a supreme act of pure will. Days and days of pent-up fury that had been agitated and exaggerated over the past few minutes of combat came to a single, violent head in the form of his explosive telekinetic wave.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Unleashing all that has pent up, fighting for his kingdom...

Allies: [member="Judas Foster"] │ [member="Julian Valentine"] │ @Faye │ @A'lah The Green One
Foes: [member="Ras Val'kor"] │ [member="Atlas Kane"] │ [member="Darth Arabris"] │ @Amun │ [member="Nixia Amabilia"] │ [member="Garen Kalkat"] │ [member="Adrian Vandiir"] │ [member="Vanessa Vantai"]

The airwaves were quiet to Garen’s request, a small static forming in the line before the soft voice of a young woman broke through, a feminine charm that only a waif could carry uttering sweet nothings over the waves;

“I’m sorry, Commander, but I don’t think John would like that.”

It was a good think she couldn’t feel pain, as the primary Daedalus reactor began to churn out more power than many fleets took as a whole; forcing the systems of the Technicolor Beat to drive themselves past safe limits. The ship would come alive to sensors, even past its sensor dampening coating and various stealth implementations.

Both of the EWAR frigates that escorted the battlecruiser began to move to the side of the Panatha’s Fist battlegroup; despite now being flanked, their empty shells groaning in the darkness as the ships fired the fast gimbal mounted null projectors against the squadrons that harassed their surface; amplified by a proverbial swarm of point defense meant specifically to handle the danger of numerous squadrons engaging at once.

Another barrage of HELIX Missiles sang their battlecry, rushing through the darkness for the various ships that were present; each looking to maim the hypercritical points of bridges and reactors, engines and command suites, whatever would be able to be taken down. With the continued hacking of the weapons tracking systems, it would take a hardy attempt to stop the swarm.

With that, the cyber warfare systems burst into overdrive as the AI aboard their master began to extend her prowess through her swords; looking to turn the Harrower Class that had just appeared into a mobile bomb. Every command she could utter moved to turn its reactor critical; hoping despite it all that it would maim a portion of the fleet should it go asunder.

It’d have to do, as attention of the main vessel turned in the darkness to match the vectoring of its target. The fleet that stared Cybele’s cannons down now was that of the Void Irregular; its entire form insulting to her presence. The AI consigned this could be the end as the fight inside her belly began to shake; realizing John wouldn’t soon make it out of the hanger meant she held very little chance to make her escape either.

If a robot could accept death, she was coming close. If she could smile, she would have.

Another barrage of the ship sent out into the darkness, the kilometers of distance to the fleet that hoped to engage it. Hundreds of energy torpedos flashed at near the speed of light to incinerate the many ships that they faced, exploding with compromising gusto with each impact. They may have been designed to stand several minutes of turbolaser fire, but what bore down on them in this instance was a capital killing gatling weapon from an age bygone; they weren’t likely to enjoy what was to come.

With them, another volley of the radioactive hypervelocity cannons; though this time sent to the various cruisers, frigates, and corvettes that lined the battlefield. Even one could very well be enough to end the life of an entire ship’s crew, and Cybele’s accuracy was deadly; she only hoped they’d do enough damage to buy her time.

Another shake, and the shields ignited with yet another slap of enemy fire; though this time the other engine that kept her alive maintained; lowering the shields to their last few reiterations. If the stress kept up, the ship would fall, there was no doubt in her mind. With that in thought, she idly passed through what records the ship kept on hand; considering what her final dance might be.

Something beautiful, she hoped.

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Anger. Rage. The burning inferno of emotion he had not felt in years.

Atlas spit in his face, every second he spoke another insult to The Slave’s intelligence, to his very being. For all he had done, to give Atlas a home, to ask nothing in return, only to have this… scum, look to betray him for who knows what sort of reward.

“Atlas…”, he growled in the light of the hangar, scowling something fierce as the Sith continued to speak. The words never may have been heard, but The Slave didn’t understand what it was he spoke of; the filter of red he now saw holding back reason.

And then, he felt it, he could sense the force whirling around the Sith; only to watch as his hands came down and looked to push The Slave. A single step forward was all The Slave had mustered before the energy sent him upwards; slamming his head into the durasteel ceiling, shrouding his vision in a mixture of pain and blood.

It dripped, staining the silver of his hair as the milliseconds tipped by, now laying on the floor. Was what he faced now real? Was everything he had become falling apart before his very eyes? No, despite all that had happened, this would not, could not be the end. His core tightened, and his muscles ran taught with animalistic rage; for all he had become, he would not suffer a fate of those that would collude against him.

Conspiracy meant death, and he would be the executioner.

The Slave roared to life, a chest of air escaping his lungs as he moved with the agility of a vornskr. With it however, came a searing energy that began to fill the hangar with a darkness far surpassing tradition; the malevolent, sentient nature of sin moved like a sickening cloud that nauseated and disturbed, dragged its metaphysical claws against exposed skin and stole the breath of men. It was his very nature exuded to mankind, a deity of revenge now prowling for divine justice.

As the force around the two began to run wild, The Slave’s skin turned even more pale, his eyes filling with a darkness only the force could provide. Veins began to bulge a sickening purple as he moved with energy, the blistering speed of a warrior hellbent on killing tore at his every muscle for nothing more than to rush forward towards Atlas;

And so he did.

This incarnation of war, this manifestation of massacre moved with such a blistering pace that the blink of an eye would miss its actions; and with it what was to come. A single hand stretched out , held still by the cast iron moldings of hatred, only to land on Atlas’s chestplate and erupt in a sickening sensation of death.

It was what had come unto The Slave, multiplied back upon its transgressor with everything he could muster. Its very energy was momentarily abysmal, almost visible, as the crack of sound erupted like a gunshot; air rushing to fill the void as a shockwave shattered the nearby transparisteel of the ship’s cockpit. All of this hatred, everything he’d built up, amplified too by the emotions of the many who now died on his vessel;

All of it was emptied into a single singularity on Atlas’s chest.

For Brutus had angered Caesar, and nothing but the almighty response of his entire nation would suffice to quench this new found bloodlust.

 

[AMCO]

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Allies: [member="Ras Val'kor"], [member="Atlas Kane"], [member="Darth Arabris"], [member="Amun"], [member="Nixia Amabilia"], [member="Garen Kalkat"], [member="Vanessa Vantai"]​

Enemies: [member="The Slave"], [member="Judas Foster"], [member="Julian Valentine"], [member="A'lah the Green One"]​

Currently Engaging: N/A​

Equipment: Right Arm, Lightsaber, Handgun, [2] Jin'Wodasair, [2+2] Potions [X, X]​

Biography, Acolyte: Adrian Vandiir | Soundtrack: Sinners​

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Death, fear, and misery. The sense of thousands panicking, driven to desperation by fear and the insidious whispers of the Dark Side. For a moment, the feeling was overwhelming, then the young Acolyte forced it back. This was not the time for such concerns, not when he was striding into the belly of the beast. As another pair of droids fell to his lightning, he couldn't help but think he was getting off easy, that something was not right. Then, his instincts screamed at him. Screamed a single word with which every force user was intimately familiar with. Danger.

Forming a barrier of energy before him, he thrust himself across the threshold, coming to face an... empty corridor. That's odd, he had been sure he would come face to face with a worthy opponent, and yet... nothing. His instincts had not yet lied to him yet, but he could not see what could possibly have caused him so much alarm. Inching down the corridor, he stretched his senses to their limit, attempting to block out the cacophony of death and violence.

Annoyance taking over, he sped up slightly, only to freeze when he reached the middle of the corridor. A trap had been set, and he had walked right into it. From both ends launched forth a grid of thin red beams, a grid that summarily rushed towards him, threatening to cut him into a hundred pieces. There was no way he would be able to evade them all, but maybe he didn't have to. Right hand lashing out, a beam of violet energy launched forth, tearing into one of the walls. As metal twisted and bent, the energy surged ever closer.

There was no time to destroy all the emitters, no time to secure himself properly. Throwing himself into the improvised alcove, he flung up the most powerful barrier he could muster, the shield buckling against the small number of beams that struck him. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Dragging himself out, panting all the way, he glanced at his torn and slightly scorched robes. Nine Hells of Corellia, he needed to find out who had designed this damn thing's defences, so that he could hire them.

 

[Vestille Thumahra]

Vestille Thumahra​

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Capital City, Gree​

Allies: Out of the way​

Enemies: Kill 'em all​

Directly Engaging: [member="Bernard of Arca"]​

The crack of thunder amid the pouring rain signaled the change.

As the Jedi's defense eventually fell under the barrage of the pistols, Vestille's ultimate goal had been achieved; the fact that the Knight had been parted from his lightsaber provided a sense of elevated chances of survival from the oncoming encounter. As the pistols kept up their systematic burst of fire, it was something that the Captain had at least expected that the Arkanian would soon no doubt retaliate and this came not as a physical attack but rather to level the battlefield to the equivalent of a no-mans-land. As the pull of the Force was felt upon his blaster, rather than try and resist the attempt to disarm, Vestille let the invisible hands wrap around his blasters and remove them from his hands. This allowed him to move his hands whilst the pistols were now out of his control, taking a hand to grasp at the hilt of the combat knife sat snugly within its sheath and sharply removed it with a tug.

In that moment, logic gave way to the withheld demon.

What was once a mind that was constantly analyzing and adapting to the situation, taking every step in a methodical and carefully planned manner, the red mist of his fractured psyche slowly crept its way into the forefront. The Jedi was down? Good! What was once a careful position became a full on sprint towards the Jedi, a raging bull clad in a suit of armor, murderous intent taking the controls. The silence was broken, undoubtedly first by the Arkanian's cry of pain from the connection of the blaster shot but now the Captain's screaming filled the void; a mix of pain and anger being fermented and bottled for longer than what was typically healthy finally vibrating from beneath the helmet into a bloodcurdling, insanity driven roar. As the charging behemoth came closer and closer, it seemed that all intent was to grab onto the Jedi and rip him limb from limb whilst the blood boiled and the mind slipped into a feral state.

It was there that Vestille's armored shell slipped and removed itself; a man haunted by his past, turned nigh insane by the horrors and guilt that ate away at his core night after night. This was what he truly was, an animal playing a professional guise atop it all to keep it under wraps.

And his cycle was cursed to repeat.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Yammka Fleet
[member="Cerbera"]

Ophidia's tone remained fairly flat, but there was a half-cocked smile on the side of her mouth.

"Makes it all the more difficult to make a connection between them, and all the more difficult to predict their modus operandi."

The Pale Assassin trained her apprentices well; only the best would do and the weak perished before they could disgrace the institution. The great diversity gave many of the assassins specialities and particular skills that made them a nightmare to predict - All of whom were trained in the arts of stealth she had perfected.

Akito Koushou was a skilled poisoner and infiltrator, but also an adept technician. Ophidia had seen the Nezumi wipe out smaller ships with poison gas, unseen, no trace. It had looked perfectly like an accident. It had filled her with some pride. And she was but one element on the greater system of cogs that was the Sith Assassins.

Ophidia listened intently as Cerbera detailed her expectations for the conflict ahead.

It was true, the Saaraishash had indeed discovered that the greater Rebel Alliance presence was in space. It was one of the reasons they had increased their fleet presence in the attack and prepared to support Yammka Fleet. If the fleets were held up anywhere, then it would be Gree.

"I am always ready, dear." "Death is an old friend."

And with that, the light of hyperspace travel consolidated into stars as they reversed to real-space at the edge of the battle at Gree. The Yuuzhan Vong raiding ships establishing their lines as the slender shape of the Xiphos reared as a massive shadow over Yammka Fleet, then engaged its stygium cloak and seemingly blinked out of existence as quickly as it appeared.