Your Overconfidence Is Your Weakness | Rebel Alliance Invasion of Sith Empire Held Dubrillon Hex

[Aryn Teth]

Aryn Teth

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Refinery Complex, Dubrillion Orbit​

Objective: Get That Paycheck​

Allies: The Rebel Alliance​

Enemies: The Sith Empire, [member="Koda Fett"]​

When the body of the rebel that took Aryn's bolt fell, the man was surprised at the lack of guilt he felt. Back when he was with the Alliance, when he called himself the Supreme Commander, and held himself to the belief that he was some sort of 'good guy', he would have felt it like a stabbing wound in his chest. Yet, as he watched the body fall, Aryn felt little more than irritation as he looked over the Mandalorian behind them, watching as Fett moved to retreat behind the shuttle.

Aryn wasn't going to let Fett get away, he moved quickly, sprinting across the field as he reconfigured his rifle to the assault mode, shortening the barrel as he made his way towards Fett and the shuttle he had moved behind. He wasn't sure if Fett had actually noticed him, though he doubted the man would recognize him at least on sight. With the polarized visor of his helmet, Aryn was fully concealed behind his fresh and relatively new suit of armour. Regardless, Aryn was not about to storm into an ambush if the bounty hunter was more prepared for the pursuit than Aryn especially hoped he might be.

As he ran, the combat around him raged, he saw troopers from either side engaged in close combat, explosions from detonators going off, all in all it was absolute chaos, and the chaos meant that Aryn crossed the field relatively unharmed, reaching the shuttle and ducking into cover alongside it as he moved towards the side he'd seen Fett disappear behind.

He focused, calling on the force to feel the echo that poured from Fett, the lives he had taken screamed from within the Mandalorian even if he himself would never know it, but it had become Aryn's best way of tracking his movements. Taking in a breath, he ducked around cover, aiming his rifle where he expected his target to be and firing two shots in quick succession.

 

[AMCO]

Location: Sith-Imperial Collection and Refinery Complex Dorn
Objective: Be a useless unconscious person.
Allies: Sneering Imperialists
Duelling: [member="Aten Ramses"]
Equipment: Lightsaber & Shard of Nil.

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For a moment, Adrian's world was pain. Only pain.

His right arm, his favoured arm, was gone. He could feel the horrible burning of a cauterized wound on his right shoulder, but nothing beyond that. His body writhed on the floor, overwhelmed with pain. For a moment, there was only pain. Then came the anger, the hatred.

Hearing the Jedi's voice as if through a haze, but not understanding their meaning, his hatred grew. He, he was the one who had done this to him. Now, he mocked him. Smug in his own ability. Pleased with the results of his actions. The presence grew closer, ever closer. As Aten knelt down before him, Adrian's eyes drifted towards him, eyes now entirely orange. With a pull, the Jedi had the audacity, the force-cursed audacity, to steal his possessions. Even the damned potions that could alleviate his pain and begin to heal his maimed body. As the Padawan dropped his severed arm next to him, pulled back to deliver what he assumed to be a fatal blow, his hatred blossomed into action.

Words sluggish, twisted, he began to chant the incantation of the worst spell he knew of, the vilest sorcery in his entire thrice-cursed arsenal.

"Jen' naktis, kinta laisvas. Vi hadzuska gimti, tegu kraujas..."

The damned Jedi would pay, he would perish in agony as his blood turned to... thwap.

 

[Koda Fett]

OBJECTIVE: Earn Credits
LOCATION: Dubrillion Refinery Complex
ALLIES: The Sith Empire
ADVERSARIES: [member="Aryn Teth"]

Unfortunately, the Mandalorian was entirely unaware of Teth's presence as of now. Something within him hoped that the man had survived the events of the Alliance's downfall. A grudging respect, a desire to see through to kill himself, or maybe he never truly wanted him dead. The second of the three appeared to be the most likely of circumstances, followed by the first and then the third. As far as Fett was concerned, Teth was a dead man walking. He was going to get what was coming to him, and maybe then might the Bounty Hunter retire. His greatest 'enemy' finally put beneath the ground, and Koda's booted feet standing upon the soil he lays within. He could never quit with that Jedi still roaming. No, never.

Fett's armoured figure strided across the battlefield, the Carbine once within his grip slung back over his shoulder. Now, within his grip rested two weapons all too reminiscent of his late-pseudo Father. They fired off their signature sound at a speed no regular weapon was capable of reaching. Rebels dropped in droves, and Fett came off with nothing more than extra dust and grime. His helmet continuously pinged for signatures that still lived, still capable of firing upon him. He spotted one coming his way.

The Mandalorian prepared for whatever target was sprinting his way, not entirely expecting it to face in his direction upon it's arrival. A force wielder capable of utilising it properly wasn't prone to wield a Blaster. As Aryn rounded the corner, Koda activated a burst with his jetpack, propelling him towards the left. His Blasters fired wildly, yet that didn't protect him from the shots that came his way. One whizzing by him, and the other striking his right arm, his grip upon the blaster vanishing. Fortunately, he was ambidextrous.

 

[H3xle]

Location: Dubrillion, the Refinery => Outdated Culty Facility

Allies: TSE [member="Ardeth Zun"] [member="tabigarashu madara"]
Enemies: Rebels/Death Cultists
Unknown: [member="desmond c'artyom"]

Khaji let Ardeth resume the front as they approached the door. Their Nezumi leader began to try to rewire it so they could open it. The Trianii was just coming down from the combat high, when a burst of air brought many new scents. This was the only warning he had before they were rushed by a press of bodies.

In an instant, Khaji had his blades in his hands again, this time with both blades laid against his forearms. His body sank into a defensive stance as his hands began to move as if of their own accord. Where he could employ the blade, he let it slide along his assailants, but his primary goal right now was to survive long enough for Hirou to get the door open.

“This is agent C’artyom. If there are any friendly forces inside that damned thing we need you to disable it’s shields immediately! We can provide for evac before bombardment, but I am unsure how long we can hold out against these fighters!”

"Agent C'arrtyom..." Khaji grunted out, after blinking a command through his super spy contacts to open his comm channel. The background noise was likely horrendous, like a mix between a bad rave and a worse riot. "...we are...attempting to do so. We'rre a..." an large rush of air punctuated his sentence as a fist got through. Khaji laid the arm open from elbow through the wrist, then across it as well. The arm drew back, though Khaji couldn't pinpoint the scream of pain from the tumultuous other noises. "..a little busy." Khaji dodged back, then laid about himself with tail, legs, and hands, giving them a brief moment of respite before the press came back in. "Death cultists. If you can..." More pausing for air and fighting. "...orrbital strrike the site, orr send in trroops. Do so!"

Khaji blinked his side closed, and got scratched by someone's nasty fingernails for his distraction. Behind him, he could hear some conversation happening from the wires. Khaji could only hope that the Nezumi could get the door open quickly, though he continued to focus on keeping the horde back alongside Ardeth. He was unfamiliar with Agent C'artyom, but figured the death cultists were just as much a threat to the rebels as the Empire.

 

[Ambrose Cadera]

Location: Communications Array, En route to Refinery
Objective: Repair TSE Communications. Evacuate Wounded.
Equipment: http://starwarsrp.net/topic/127933-ambrose-mantis-yalilyr-alor/?p=1768634
Allies: [member="Alkor Centaris"] Mandos | TSE
Enemies: Whoever fires.

“The fleet action was heavier than anticipated.” I say, grinning into the side of my mouth. My Yalilyr surround the failed communications beacon, taking note of fallen Sith Marines around the wrecked beacon.

“Any bead on [member="Darth Carnifex"]’s location? If their comms are down, I can send scouts to relay.” The sound of a firing scattergun tossed into Ambrose’s comm, as the Mandalorians began to encounter Rebel resistance to their work on the comms.

I growl at two of my troops, lightly armoured, who shake and metamorphose into gigantic dark furred wolves. They bound off into the distance, searching out those Sith who required messages sent to and fro in the battlefield.

Tuulu and Sevko broke off with a squad of their own, rushing to repair the Sith Comms beacon. If successful, the hope was that the communications would finally be returned to some form of capacity.

“We’ll be there with a bang… I’ll watch you, young pup.” My voice is coated with the growls of a glorifying day, any day with a chance for blood is one I can sink my teeth into. One whistle is all my warriors require to mount our bes’uliik and ride to the Refinery, weapons ready.

[member="Alkor Centaris"] was more than vode. I would count on the Mandalorian any time or place to protect those most valuable to me. Whipping through the battlefield, I dig into my bes’uliik’s controls and spin through a line of heavy artillery, firing a clearance point on the tip of my spear formation.

The Thyrsian was worrisome… but I have eyes on one. “If you see [member="Cedric Grayson"], he once lead a failed attack on Mandalore. My Death Watch rebuffed him. I lost good warriors… his blood is ours to take.”

The Refinery was in sight.

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

Dubrillion​

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The Behemoth | War Fleet Black Iron​

Directly Engaging: [member="Jaster of Clan [/FONT][/SIZE][/I][SIZE=14px][FONT=georgia][I]Awaud[/FONT][/I][/SIZE][I][SIZE=12px][FONT=georgia]"]​

Indirectly Engaging: [member="The Slave"] | [member="Katya Shorn"] | [member="Judas Foster"]​

Allies Aboard the Behemoth: [member="Vaylin"] | [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] | [member="Darth Rixas"] | [member="Blackblade Guard"]​

Questionable: [member="Nyra Mazul"] ​

Reference: Poetry Foundation, Charge of the Light Brigade; Lord Alfred Tennyson​

Battery and defense, assault on the Rebel Armada continued the loss of life continued to mount on both ends. The twin Marr Star Destroyers in the rear now fell silent as the last of their efforts to save their ship went into the abyss. The sound of death silenced by space itself the visuals alone sent ripples within the War Fleet, those who felt the Force could feel it as hundreds of voices were silenced all at once. "Rear Admiral," the officer's voice began but was stopped as he saw her hand. The grayed out blip of the star destroyers was enough to tell her what had occured. "Hit scored on the Lucrehulk, enemy's sent it on a collision course with the Crimson Valkyrie."

"What a foolish waste," she commented but thought nothing more on the matter. Instead she focused on what she could, the comms station came to life and it was then she realized with a puzzled brow that the jamming had been lifted. Fiolette narrowed her gaze, "run the scans again." Something told her what the enemy had been planning the entire time. She recognized the symbols before the system could identify them properly. Before she could make any further headway, the Supreme Admiral was on the line with Bastion informing them of what had occured. "Inform command that while our forces may fight the so-called Rebel Alliance on the ground, we have before us in system a remenant of the Dominion fleet." Systems jamming was gone, it seemed the irratic behavior from the enemy commander had been leading to this point.

Pitiful.

"Do we have a target lock on the Lucrehulk?"

"Yes, yes we do, weapons at the ready ma'am!"

"Fire!"

Once more into the breach the scores of veradant hues raced for the lucrehulk with the hope of impact before the Valkyrie saw her. Unlike the somehow faster than size Dominion fleet, the Authority desperately moved now opening a gap in their formation to let the lucrehulk through. "Engage part of the vanguard on the lucrehulk, finish her off. I want as minimal damage as possible on the Valkyrie." It was clear to the Rear Admiral that this 'rebel alliance,' was a fraud and it was an insult to those who truly found it in their breath to fight the Sith Empire for the sake of freedom and democracy. "Send our findings along with the Behemoth's recordings of the fight to command, high priority encryption."

Missiles inbound for the Dominion fleet continued as the deactivation transmitters were not permitted time to find and deactivate each of the missiles. "More Dominion ships!" The officer reported. Fiolette knew the designs of these ships now, the Silver Jedi Order had possession of them and she recalled the invasion of Ossus. Though she had not been present, the First Order had successfully scorched the world. A painful lesson taught to the Silvers for their meddling into the affairs of the First Order on Skor II.

"Steady on the go, finish off this facade ion cannons at the ready."

The Sith Imperial force's central fleet continued their weapons exchange with the now Dominion fleet. Heavy turbolasers, mass drivers, and a slew of missiles continued to fire from their vessels. Just as so the Rearguard pressed on with their defense, the twin Harbinger-class battlecruisers responisble for their share of damage targted two of the enemy battlecruisers and unleashed the mass drivers upon them followed up with turbolaser fire and an ion cannon barrage. Each vessel of the War Fleet Black Iron fought fiercely and no matter the counter fire their reply was the same. The would not bow, they would not go unbroken into the Netherworld and one by one with every salvo they spoke their reply.

Lasers bare toward the gunners there
at the charging Dominion, while
all the Galaxy wondered.

Plunged in the battery assault
together they stood, against the enemy line
Sith and Imperial.

Reeled back from enemy fire.
Torn and scorned.
They fired back, but not they the six hundred,
nor the six hundred more.

Cannon and laser to the right of them.
Cannon and laser to the left of them.
cannon and laser to the front of them.

Volleyed and thundered.

"Ground teams, this is War Fleet Black Iron. I repeat, War Fleet Black Iron." The communications officer spoke, and the breath of life returned from the marines who could barely grasp at their guns. "They're still there! By the Force! Our Marines are STILL THERE!" Yes they were, stormed at with shot and shell as the Rebel-turned-Dominion forces showed themselves above so assuredly did the fleet believe that the ground would soon too reveal themselves. But for now, for now their men needed them. "Ground teams, repeat we need evac for the marines, dispatching shuttles!"

The Black Iron Marines held fiercely to their posts, and would be rewarded as shuttles raced from their hangars escorted by what was left of the TIE Fighter Corps. Every man and woman knew their duty, their duty was to retrieve those they could retrieve a promise made when they sore their oath. They would leave no man behind, brother and sister in arms now worked for themselves. War had had his fill today, and his lover Death now would rest with him as the souls of the dead were pulled into her embrace the whisps of emerald hues and the scores of missiles twice more crossed the expanse. The stars themselves watched as the Sith Imperial Navy aimed to score more hits against the Dominion. "Disengage interdiction, keep focus on the battlecrusiers."

Another frigate would fall as the battle wore on, meanwhile those that now raced along the trams, those on their journey to engineering. Would now find Sith-Imperial Legionnaires rushing up to meet them. A full stop measure now they would not be an easy throw away, Blackblades trained in the force now too would meet the elite forces engaged the intruders as a measure to help the Sith find their foe.

The Emperor’s Fist
Action Report;

• Loss of two Marr-class Star Destroyers in the Rearguard along with an additional frigate.
• Sensor scans reveal transponder code change, enemy fleet is of Dominion origin.
• Information regarding enemy fleet is sent to Bastion, recording of battle also sent on encrypted channels.
• Target lock for part of the Vanguard on Lucrehulk with hopes to destroy it before it reaches the Crimson Valkyrie.
• The Authority now attempts to manuever out of the way, whilst maintaining fire on Jaraden fleet carriers.
• Remaining vanguard continues to screen fighters and fire at enemy battlecruisers per same configuration as last turn/post.
• Central guard continues to exchange weapons fire with enemy central fleet.
• Sith-Imperial Legionnaires and additional Blackblades now engage intruders.
• Missiles, mass drivers, and weapons fire continue to be exchanged from the Rearguard with the enemy fleet.
• Sith-Imperial Marines are able to reconnect with the fleet, efforts to evac them off the ground are underway.
• Those sensitive in the Force can feel the deaths of those aboard the varius Sith-Imperial vessels.
• Ion cannons from the central/vanguard continue their barrage.
• Enemy ships are finally partially identified based on visuals and records as Silver Jedi make.

Spoiler

Black Iron Command

• 
  [1] Behemoth-class Super Star Dreadnought
  
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  [2] Heresiarch-class Command Battlecruisers
  

Black Iron Vanguard

• 
  [8] Marr-class Star Destroyers
  
• 
  11 [15] Shard-class Assault Frigates
  

Black Iron Rearguard

• 
  [2] Harbinger-class Carrier Battlecruisers
  
• 
  2 [4] Marr-class Star Destroyers
  
• 
  [3] Incapacitator-class Interdiction Cruisers
  
• 
  7 [10] Shard-class Assault Frigates
  

Black Iron Center

• 
  [20] Xo’Xaan II-class Star Destroyers
  

Sith-Imperial Starfighters

• 
  Sith-Imperial TIE Fighter
  
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  Sith-Imperial TIE Interceptor
  
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  Sith-Imperial TIE/D Automated Starfighter
  
• 
  Sith-Imperial TIE/HV Fighter/Bomber
  
• 
  Shadow Droid
  
• 
  Sith-Imperial TIE/K Sith Starfighter
  

 

[Warchief Waddles]

Location: Refinery Complex
Allies: Strike Team One
Objective: Take/Evacuate Complex
Enemies: [member="Adrian Vandiir"] (Incapacitated)
Equipment: Powergaunts, Lightsaber, Asheran Armorweave clothing


Defiant till the very end Adrian was, even in his final moments of consciousness attempting to draw upon the malevolent energy that surrounded them to lash out at Aten. He was glad to have struck when he did watching the acolyte fall into unconsciousness Aten could finally somewhat relax. The battle had been more than challenging, this wasn’t some sparring session with other Jedi. No pointless clashing of sabers this was a battle of life and death. Looking down examining the unconscious figures form Aten knew that this was only the beginning, he had a long way to go. This victory had only been due to luck on his part while his opponent easily outweighed him in force prowess.

Looking to the equipment he had stripped the Sith of Aten examined the flasks, with no prior knowledge of what they were capable of he wouldn’t return them to the acolyte if anything perhaps he could examine and reverse engineer whatever was in them at best. The silver device clipped onto the belt once more he didn’t possess a vague clue about. However, the device that had allowed Adrian to hover was of no harm to any. Placing it next to the individuals detached arm Aten gave the area a once-over scanning to spot anything the Sith had dropped, what he saw was a silvery hilt. The acolyte’s saber. Commonsense would dictate to take the weapon in an attempt to ensure that the Sith couldn’t harm another with it but Aten couldn’t do that. There was a connection between a Force User and their saber, a unique one. Despite how foolish it was Aten would leave it.

Shame the acolyte hadn’t brought a com unit with him, if he did Aten didn’t know where it was located. He would’ve called for an evac for Adrian by his own people. Alas, he’d leave the Sith laying there, reinforcements would be on their way soon enough. Turning his back to the sith, Aten didn’t look back. It was too late to change anything, perhaps there would be another day the two would meet in combat again, or even maybe years down the line they’d find some sort of common ground? The ideals of a fool.

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Objective: Destroy facility

Allies: Rebels

Enemies: [member="Khaji Ri'Had"]
[member="Ardeth Zun"] @Tabigarashu Madara ? / Cultist


My wing rights itself from the barrel roll and i make a half eight. The TIE and I are now flying straight towards one another. I feel I can literally see him through the canopy. Time seems to pause for a moment. He’s about to squeeze the trigger, but i’m faster on the draw. The unshielded TIE explodes into fiery ball. I attempt to bank around the inferno, but half my lower ring gets clipped. Smoke trails my ship and I know I can’t keep this up. Then comes the return transmission. Someone is inside and requesting reinforcements. I surmise it must be rebel forces. After all, only the Sith would use such a terrible weapon.

“Change of plans Inferno. We are going in for landing,” I say into my comms.

It’s a small mercy to be able to escape the confines of my ship. I land and am quickly followed by the rest of my squad. The remaining TIE's fly like vultures waiting for us to take to the skies once more, but do not pursue. We wear are old Imperial uniforms, but the old signa's of the Galactic Empire have been scraped off and replaced with rebel graffiti. I reach into the cockpit and remove my scattergun.

“We go in quiet until we know what we’re dealing with. Activate stealth suites. Spectre take point,”

Spectre nods to me and raises his disruptor as he moves forward. Ghoul raises his rotary canon and takes up the vanguard position. I fall somewhere in the middle. I activate my stealth suit as do the rest of my squad. We become almost invisible to the naked eye and most scanners. We move and spectre opens the door, but as he does I feel something is terribly wrong. An awful feeling like dirty oil all over my skin…

We enter and my vision immediately switches to low light.

“Watch those corners,”

“Clear left,”

“Clear right,”

“Move,”

 

[Kaalia Pavanos]

Location: Dubrillion Refinery Complex
Objective: Let the rebels meet their end
Allies: [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Samka Derith"]
Enemies: [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Romi Jade"]
Equipment: Armor | Lightsabers

(OOC: Kaalia/Avacyn appears as a ghostly being, but this is no more than an illusion. It is purely a visual change, nothing more.)

The blades were parried, yet the maneuver seemed to have done its job. The Jedi created vertical space for a moment as she seemingly looked to come back down feet-first with Darth Avacyn as her target, but it was at that moment when the Mandalorian warrior's presence paid its dividends. With their enemy now forced to react to the volley of blaster fire that was sent her way, the Sith Lady had been given ample room to prepare her next move. Instead of continuing to utilize the full pair of lightsabers, the crimson beam of the hilt in her right extinguished into non-existence and while she began closing the distance that had been made, it was quickly hooked back onto her belt. With one hand now free she began pulling the Force towards herself to bring forth its power.

Before unleashing it however, the Jedi had decided to call upon the force herself as she sent a wave of energy into her direction, giving Avacyn no choice but to react. With the strength previously gathered she resisted the push and powered through, but it had given its source enough space to enact her plan. The blaster shot through the air and landed into her hand, pulled the trigger, and likely to her dismay there was no response from the weapon. That wasn't the end of her attempt to try to take down her newfound target in Darth Carnifex, though. With her enemy now chasing after the Dark Lord, Avacyn herself began to pursue the pursuer. Using the Force to grant her to speed to keep up, she was on her tail.

"You're not going anywhere."

The ghastly voice would ring through Romi's ears as Avacyn once again gathered the Force around her, this time able to put it to proper use. With the sight granted to her by the same power, the woman honed her senses in on a slight shift in the air caused by her own movement and poured great strength into it, turning it from something not even palpable to a mighty blast of wind. The art of wind shaping, a technique that rarely failed her. Moving her right hand to steer it, the current was shifted to suddenly impact the Jedi's side in an attempt to knock her sideways and off-course from her target.

 

[Judas of Vahl]

Allies: [member="The Slave"], [member="Katya Shorn"]
Foes: [member="Fiolette Yvarro"], [member="Blackblade Guard"], [member="Vaylin"], [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"], [member="Darth Rixas"]
Idk: [member="Nyra Mazul"]

If this scrawny little Goldilocks boy figured he could beat Judas, then it was finally time to crush all of those pitiful assumptions. Firrerreon heritage surfaced as he picked up his pace even more, summoning the ruinous power that steadily bled from the heart of his blade. A guttural snarl escaped his lips, teeth bared, as he heaved each and every muscle into instantaneous action. Nothing cleared his mind more than this: the force of action and violence.

And violence there would be; he could still feel those pebbles of darkness at his awareness' peripheral, Sith definitely trying to stop them. Try and try as they might, Judas was either going to get what he wanted or die on this generic Super Star Destroyer. It wasn't exactly a poetic ending for an exalted warrior, but reality had a way with getting rid of happy endings.

Something red caught his eye, so he stopped. Abruptly.

Ever thankful for a watchful eye, even as his mind wandered, he strode towards the door at the bulkhead and panted. A shiver ran down his spine as the chill of freshly beaded sweat drew his attention; blinking it out of his eyes.

"I think this is it." He reported contentedly. "I'm no technopath, but I'm sure it's back there."

Maybe he was a technopath? Maybe he simply just saw the red lettering on the wall: Engineering. Who knows? If only just for a moment, he felt even more useful to this team than ever before. That, and he was a Class A doorkicker.

The door between them sported biometric and keycard entries, both of which neither of them possessed. However, he did have one of the galaxy's greatest levers in the hands of its strongest man. Prideful voices in his head pleaded for such a display of grandeur, so Judas complied. With a single motion, he jammed the Betrayer into the door's slit with the entirety of his might. Then, he simply pried the thing open like it was a can of Wookie Cookies.

After a few moments of angry grunts and the screeching of metal, it promptly dropped to the floor.

A half-smile lit his features as he bowed, gesturing towards the door.

"Losers first."

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Achieving his short term dreams, asking for directions...

Enemies: [member="Blackblade Guard"] | [member="Fiolette Yvarro"] | @Vaylin | [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] | [member="Darth Rixas"]

Allies: [member="Katya Shorn"] | [member="Judas Foster"]

If it weren’t for the internal cooling systems implemented into the skintight underlay he wore, he imagined he’d be sweating too; though it was far easier to maintain a speed like that when you don’t weigh nearly three hundred pounds. Despite that, he had lost, and with it he purposefully forgot the bet he had made only a moment before; especially since the lost was only by a mere few feet. A sigh was enunciated through his electronic synthesizers before he glanced back down the tram;

“… Wasn’t Kate supposed to be right behind us?”, he said for a moment as he furrowed his brow.

The metallic sheering of the door opening however broke him from his temporary distraction, bringing his gaze back towards Judas. With unruly strength, the giant of a man had broken loose a tight airlock with nothing but a massive piece of metal and a bad attitude; something that was somehow admirable despite everything considered. Most sith considered themselves smart, perhaps manipulative or powerful in ways of the force, but few did their ill so directly.

“Losers first.”

“kark off.”, he responded as he stepped over the train rail turned sword.

Inside there were various lights indicating power distribution and more, some even referring to the various aspects and condition of the ship. The Slave however, wasn’t interested in any of those, turning his attention towards a small group of engineers desperately pounding on the next door. The entire section had been put into lockdown with their interference, but it wouldn’t mean much in the next few minutes. A predatory grin crept across his face as he walked towards them, a hand extending outwards to the group of three.

“Open the door, they’re in here! Please, hur- Agh!”, one of the men said as he spoke into the holocommunications radio on his shoulder. The interruption came as The Slave gripped the man by the throat through the force, crushing his windpipe and jugular under a tremendous force, only to lift him off the ground.

The other hand lifted one of the others by the force as well, only to have him drift as he squirmed through the air. His neck met The Slave’s hand as the empty darkness of the force moved in physical manifestation towards him across the sith’s forearm. It was slow and terrifying, forcing out the muffled scream of the man only to be silenced as the various tentacles tore out his neck with almost no effort. What remained was a terrified engineer, and the snapped spine of what was left as he tossed the first aside.

With his visor turned downwards, he leaned over the now traumatized remainder, a sick smile permeating his expression despite the engineer being unable to see what was beneath. It didn’t however take a force sensitive to feel the danger that radiated off of him. His voice was as brutal and inconsiderate as the attack he had just committed, matched only by its coldness;

“A please to meet you.”, he said as he rested a hand on the engineer’s face.

“Would you mind pointing me towards the AI Core?”

With that last sentence, the force began to press into the man’s brain in a mixture of pain and domination. It’d take a few moments, but he’d get what he wanted one way or another.

 

[Blackblade Guard]

Objective: Repel the boarders
Location: The Behemoth
Allies: [member="Fiolette Yvarro"], [member="Nyra Mazul"], [member="Vaylin"], [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]
Enemies: [member="The Slave"], [member="Katya Shorn"], [member="Judas Foster"]
Gear: Blackblade Armory

W̴͡e̢͝'̴҉v̵̸̧̨́ȩ͠҉͟ ̴̛͞҉̕l̵̢͘͘͠o̷̡c̡̧͡͞à̶̕͜͡t̶̛͡͞é̸d̷͘ ̵̶̡́͝t̕͟h̸͢e͘͝m̷̢͢͢,̴̧̕͞ ̶̴̸̕͠H̵͠҉͜i͟͟͟͠g̴̀͠͝͞h̵̕͏l̸̨͜ò҉r̶̕͢d̶̵̡.̨͘ ̢̛͟T̸̸h̶̸̕e̢҉̴y̸̵͠͏'̧͟͞r͝e̕͠͏̧ ̸̸̢ó̸̡͝͞n̷̕͟͡͡ ͏̷҉̢t̴̨́͘͟h̛͢é̸̸̀͟ ҉͞͠e҉̸͢n̕҉̀̀́g͏̛̀͘͜į̴̛͜n̴̢̛͜͟é҉̴̡e̵͘͟͡r̸̛̀͝į̴̷̛ņ̷̢́g̨͞͠͝ ͏҉̷d̷́͢e̶̶͝c̶̶̵͡ḱ̡,̵̧͟҉ ̴̡̨́͞m̶̴̵̛ơ̴̸̡v͏́̀͢i͏́̕͜ǹ͜͞g̛͠ ̸ţ̢o̸͡ ̴͡҉d͏҉̀͡i͜s̴̢̀͠ś̛ų̷̧̀͜a̧͡d̸̴̡͜e̷̛̕.҉̵͟

Throughout the trespasser's journey, the vigilant scouts of the Blackblade Guard had been keeping a close watch, shadowing their every step with the patience and guile of experienced hunters. The PCDs affixed to the backplate of their armor allowed the scouts to blend in almost seamlessly with their surroundings, keeping a good enough distance away to never truly run the risk of being visually detected. But now they had moved in, slipping in behind the pair as they broke down the door to engineering and slaughtered the hapless engineers that just so happened to get in their way.

Two of the scouts silently unhooked a pair of sonic imploders from their munitions belts, configuring each device to explode upon impact whenever they were thrown. Once detonated, the devices would emit high-frequency sound waves powerful enough to blind, disorient, and weaken any unfortunate individual or individuals caught within the blast radius, and was capable of lethality at extremely close proximity.

Four of the other Blackblade scouts would be waiting, rifles locked and loaded as the aforementioned two scouts crept in through the doorway and chucked their sonic imploders right at the intruder's feet, regardless of what might happen to the surviving engineer in their midst.

 

[Arage Bao]

Location: Dubrillion, Laser Facility.
Allies: TSE -- [member="Tabigarashu Madara"] [member="Khaji Ri'Had"]
Unknown: [member="Desmond C'artyom"]

The yelling and screeching of the cultists pulled at his attention right after the High Inquisitor leaped from his hand and into the ripped-open panel.

If Ardeth Zun thought it was odd that his immediate superior was a smole mouse tinkering with electronics... he didn't show it.

In truth the Muun was too busy turning around, igniting his lightsaber and just about managing to deflect a vibro-sword to the side that had been about to cut him in half during his distraction. Sloppy. The lightsaber hummed and he flicked with his wrist, letting it hit the first cultist (frothing at their mouth, eesh) in the shoulder. From there it sliced clean through like butter.

"Agent C'artyom?" Ardeth murmured to Khaji while staying off the comms himself. "Never heard of them."

That didn't mean the male wasn't part of the Sith Empire. It wasn't like the Muun kept detailed records on every single clandestine operation that the Empire was running both abroad and internally (only most of them).

The Empire was too large to think one person could know every agent by name.

Then there was violence outside in the air, explosive enough to make the floor shake as the explosion rocked against the shielding coming online. The laser began projecting its lances into the atmosphere. Taking apart ships and the one eye the Muun still had widened just a fraction. "The facility shouldn't be online yet!" Ardeth hissed to the Trianii just as the elevator was activated behind them.

"Retreat," Ardeth commanded before taking a step forward and covering Khaji stepping back into the elevator pod.

The lightsaber disappeared into the folds of his robe as the Sith pushed his arms forward, palm aimed at the corridor in front of him.

The cultists had been pushed back for a moment, not expecting the ferocity of the two Sith protecting the elevator, but with only one of them remaining? They started dashing towards him with renewed vigor.

Good.

As they came into range Ardeth released a barrage of Force Lightning, the blue streaks cackling in the air as they arced towards the first cultists. From there it spread as they collided into one another. This was the reprieve that Ardeth had needed to step back into the elevator himself. A quick glance located Hirou who slammed their smol fist into the control.

Ding.

The elevator would close and move into action.

"Faulty intel- I will have that Chiss' head." Ardeth grumbled to his two companions. [member="Darth Filiae"] and her companion had failed them both. "Can we expect more reinforcements, High Inquisitor?"

Whoever C'artyom was... they'd need more people if they were to put a stop to the cultists' plans.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

Location: Under the Sea - Quarren Settlement.
Allies: Darling [member="Darth Ophidia"], TSE
Enemies: None as of yet. Possibly the transportation and back-up of [member="Ari Vox"], [member="Elpsis Kerrigan-Alcori"] and her allies.

​

It was the chaotic element that made Cerbera oh so interested in the Rebel Alliance.

That was her element, after all.

The amount of chaos, pain, destruction they had caused on Jaminere was simply to salivate about. Oh, they cloaked themselves in justice and freedom, but in truth they were agents of anarchy. This was something that the Sith Lord could get behind- the power of the strong... grabbing rather than asking. Accepting any and all prices to get their mission done.

In some way it was honest.

Cerbera appreciated that, even if some of them were deluded enough to think they were actually contributing to a better Galaxy. "Mm, thank you, I knew you of all people would like this." They wandered a bit more, adding just a little more numbers to the infected and then they found their way to the edge of the settlement.

It didn't take long for the screams to start.

Which reminded Cerbera-

"Oh, if dear Kaine starts complaining about the civilian casualties-" Ugh. His insistence on not touching the Empire's civilians was annoying. Sure, it made for great PR, but really? Something you needed to crack a few eggs to get dinner started. Either way- Cerbera had made sure that both of them wouldn't be noticed. The infection would not be traced back to the Sith.

...and: "-I have already created a vaccine. Once they have served their purpose... the survivors will be healed in due time."

Couldn't be too fast, of course.

That would create suspicion.

They watched as the infected started to swarm out of the settlement, into the deep sea, in the direction of the rebels and their submarines. This would be interesting to observe.

 

[Irajah Ven]

Location: Kolto Processing Plant - Lowest level Lift
Allies: Caf, TSE [member="Leliana"] [member="Djorn Bline"]
Enemies: Rebels, [member="Ari Vox"] [member="Noah Corek"] [member="Elpsis Kerrigan-Alcori"] MAYBE THIS SITH LORD?
In Scene: [member="Jairus Starvald"]

Vain seethed.

This was wrong. All of it was wrong. She had never before been treated in such a fashion but she also was not stupid. Here, in this moment, he held all of the cards- what he had done to the soldiers.... it had left her cold. Working as she did with the Zambranos, mentalism was in short supply. She had never seen it wrought, let alone in such a spectacular fashion. If the situation had been different, she might have been impressed.

Unfortunately, all she could muster was fury.

How dare he?

"I will be of use," she said through clenched teeth.

She had already decided to kill him.

People rarely made her angry. Irritated? All the time, by most people in truth. But this was a hot, acidic rage in her chest. More than one person that had crossed her had found themselves on her table, beneath her knife. This however was different. This had become personal because he had made it so.

There was no arguing. Why? One didn't argue with a dead man.

What she didn't realize was just how easily he was already reading her thoughts. Vain knew nothing about mentalism, had never encountered it, let alone practiced any ways to defend against it. Neglecting her force training to focus on the science.

It was easy to assume that he accepted her at face value when he turned to head toward the lift. Pushing the button to return it to them after the Legionaries had disembarked above them. Gloved hands fingered one of the syringes on her belt, then another, considering.

Vain moved like a snake, reaching up to plunge the needle into his neck from behind.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

Location: In transit. On-board the Song of Truth.
Allies: [member="Fiolette Yvarro"] | [member="Blackblade Guard"]
Enemies: [member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"]

Lord Saarai had become rigid with tension and focus at the mention of the cultists.

They had hounded the Sith Empire for a long time now. Every time they thought them crushed and broken, they would suddenly pop back up again at the absolute worst moment for the Empire. Like insistent weed, but without its herbal charm. There was a lull in the report as something happened on the other side that diverted [member="Tabigarashu Madara"]'s attention.

"Tai Fa," they said tightly. "Order a strike on the facility. I do not believe we can reach the laser in time to protect the fleets above us."

The Thirriken tilted his head at that.

"Hirou, I am not about to destroy a potential weapon that could give the Sith an edge in this battle. You will regain control of the installation and turn it against the Rebels you have my utmost faith." Of course, it wasn't just about that. In fact primarily he wasn't about to bomb the installation his friend was on. It was sentimental and it was stupid, but Tai had killed a friend once before.

Today he would create.

Not destroy.

"Hyperspace reversion in ten, nine..." The count started and Tai nodded, before refocusing on Hirou. "My fleet is due to arrive in a matter of moments, Agent Tabigarashu Madara, stay safe... my friend."

Then the connection cut off.

A second later a third fleet blinked into existence at the edge of the system. Frigates, corvettes, cruisers and more flanked the strange design of the Song. It was a ship you would be hard-pressed to find an equal to in the Galaxy. The advanced sensors of the Song of Truth immediately began projecting its reach throughout its range, letting internal systems process it into possible targeting solutions, strategic advancements and the sort. "Lord Inquisitor, the Rebel fleet seems to have taken the brunt of the damage!"

Tai studied that, positively squinting.

Then made a decision.

"Engage the Song's jamming systems. Nothing comes in and out, unless its ours. Then establish a communication beam with Rear Admiral's Yvarro. Time to figure out what is happening in our territory."
--


Actions
OOC: Not really a fleeter, so this should be fun to try out! I moved ahead with a post to enter the system, considering it has been a few days since my last post. Didn't move to attack yet and just maintained supportive actions to give you guys the opportunity to respond to Song and its escort fleet's arrival.

• Entered the system.
• Established scanning protocols and engaged the jamming systems to cover the system of Dubrillion.
• Made contact with Rear Admiral Yvarro.

 

[Tabigarashu Madara]

Location: "Abandoned" Dubrillion Super Laser Facility (Fething cultists)
Objective: Stop the death cultists *again*- DON'T DIE (why does this always end up being the objective?)
Allies: TSE, [member="Ardeth Zun"] [member="Khaji Ri'Had"] [member="Darth Saarai"]
Enemies: MOSTLY DEATH CULTISTS- WHOOPS ALSO REBELS? Maybe? Hard to tell [member="Desmond C'artyom"]


Hirou paid no attention to the other comm squawking. The Nezumi couldn't afford it. Between the tiny holographic Tai Fa, and working feverishly to reattach the wires yanked out by the cultists (Hirou assumed), it took all of their attention.

"GOT IT!" Came the tiny squeak to the others, as the last wire was attached and the lift surged to life.

As Khaji and Ardeth fell back into the lift, Hirou looked at the hologram of Tai Fa, small face troubled.

"I will do as you ask, but I ask a favor in return. If our fleets start taking damage and people start dying, have a bombardment ready. Something that can make it through the shields. I will do my best, as I always have for you. But if my best is not good enough, I urge you to be ready."

A pause, the Nezumi's face very serious.

"Do not risk the lives of hundreds, or even thousands on some of our ships, on your faith in me. Whatever happens, it has been an honor serving with you."

The sound of lightening, of screaming, and then the doors shut, blocking it out again.

There was a pause from the tiny hologram. And then: "You have my word."

Hirou sighed with relief.

"Thank you, my friend. Agent Tabigarashu out."

The little figure disappeared and the Nezumi turned their attention back to their companions. The station shuddered again, the feeling of the super laser being fired, though Hirou didn't know at who.

Dark eyes settled on the pair- they had heard the end of that exchange.

"We have one chance to take the facility for the Empire. If we fail...." There was no need to elaborate. "I'm sorry Agent Zun, but it will be just us three, unless....." The Nezumi tilted their head curiously.

"Who was that over the open channel?" The lift started to rise, drawing them upward, toward their goal.

One way or another.

 

[Leliana]

Location: Kolto Processing Plant - Security Hub
Objective: Stop the Rebels, Kill the Rebels
Allies: [member="Djorn Bline"] | [member="Dr. Vain Jar'He"] | [member="Jairus Starvald"] | NPCs - Imperial Lawbringers | TSE
Enemies: [member="Elpsis Kerrigan-Alcori"] (Directly Engaging) | [member="Ari Vox"] | [member="Noah Corek"] | TRA
Equipment: Sith Lightsaber | Daggers | Hidden Blade | Assassin Armour

Charging at her enemy was not the best option, but Leliana felt it was the only one available to her. No matter what she did, it seemed as though Elpsis could track her - either through the Force or utilizing her natural senses. The latter was the worst to Leliana, especially given an Assassin was meant to be proficient in keeping their telltales signs in check.

Yet here she was, sweating, breathing heavily; heart beating with adrenaline.

She charged head on anticipating the continued use of ranged weaponry. And while the pellets could fire faster than the speed of light, Elpsis' drawing hand wasn't as quick. The second Leliana saw her reaching for the sidearm, she dug her feet in and dived to the side. It was a gut instinct, and she landed close to a fallen Legionnaire.

Leliana didn't hesitate as she grabbed ahold of the body and hoisted it up. Huddled behind it, left shoulder pressed up against the armoured form, while she kept her feet spread firmly against the ground. The pellets made short work of the Legionnaire's armour, tearing holes wherever a shot impacted it. Then it went through flesh, out the other side and into Leliana.

Keeping her central mass inline with the soldier's had saved critical areas; the pellets likely getting lodged in the Legionnaire's internals. But not everything was safe. Leliana had gotten lucky up until this point, but things such as luck never lasted forever.

The assassin gritted her teeth as she felt small spikes of pain tear into her left side; in her arm and torso. Some had passed through the limb cleanly, while some went through and struck her side as well. Leliana's right leg didn't fare too well either, having been misplaced enough to stick out from her human shield. Pellets tore into the armour without restraint, making it look like someone was making swiss cheese out of it.

Each bit of pain was a stroke to the fire, of pain and rage that fueled Leliana's anger. The Dark Side welled up inside, the Force building up until she let out a pained roar and blasted the body at Elpsis.

However, Leliana hadn't moved from her spot after that. She was standing, all though wobbling on her right leg. It was a mess, holes all over the leather; blood slipping through. Her left side was much the same, the arm almost dangling at her side with more blood also appearing through holes in her side.

There were even several gaps in the hood; along the edge where pellets had zipped through it and out the other side.

"Using guns in a fight...how cheap." Spoken by an assassin, whose entire profession was based on murdering targets without idealing laying a direct hand on them. It was hypocrisy at its finest. "Got nothing to fight more personally?"

She was running on fumes at this point, stubborn ones too. Leliana reached to her belt with her right hand, wincing at the slightest movement that tugged her left side. She grabbed her lightsaber, igniting the red blade as she stared Elpsis down.

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Allies: Rebels - [member="Ari Vox"], [member="Noah Corek"]
Enemies: [member="Leliana"], [member="Djorn Bline"], [member="Jairus Starvald"], [member="Dr. Vain Jar'He"], TSE
Engaging: Leliana.

Phrik armour, lightsabre (both in sig), rebreather, boltgun, sonic carbine, sidearm.


BAAM BAAM BAAM

Ok, it probably did not sound quite like that. What with it being a shattergun-revolver offspring and all that. Regardless, the pellets reaped a bloody harvest. There was a reason the revolver was Elpsis' sidearm of choice. However, the improvised human shield that the Sith Assassin had sought cover behind suddenly shot towards Elpsis.


Fuelled by the Sith's pain and rage, it soared through the air at a rapid speed. Elpsis sought to dodge and was channelling the Force. Most likely to reflect it. However, she happened to slip over a dead Nezumi. As she tried to regain her footing, the body slammed into her. Ouch. That hurt. Pain shot through her from the impact. She had Phrik armour, but that did not wholly blot out concussive force.


She stumbled, there were bruises and a tooth fell out of her mouth. Thank the Goddess it had not been a wisdom tooth. Nothing could have compared to that agony. Not even losing a limb from a lightsabre or listening to Sio's lectures...and those were pretty annoying. She was thrown into a daze for a moment, with some blood flowing from a forehead wound. Discipline and training took over.


Behind her helmet's faceplate, her milky-white eyes focused on the wounded Sith. Quite what Elpsis' ethereal eyes saw beyond the woman's dark red aura was upon to interpretation, but though Leliana's thoughts were concealed from her due to her terentatek hood, she could feel she was in pain. Oh, and there was banter. Elpsis was less stoic than Siobhan or the Ice Lady. Either would have told her to just her mouth and kill the Sithy. Her revolver returned to her holster and in its place she drew her lightsabre. Igniting with a snap-hiss, its burning orange blade pierced the darkness.


"Says the chick who hides and runs. Why don't you show me what the Sithies taught you?" While the words left her lips, she was not idle. Rather, she concentrated. Focused upon the Sithy in front of her. The energies of the Force flowed through Elpsis' body like wild fire, as did blazing heat. Feet firmly planted on the ground, she assumed a balanced stance.

 

[Vestille Thumahra]

Vestille Thumahra​

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​

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Ù̯̙̯̱͔n͏̺̰̱͖̹k̗̺͕̝̞no̝̙̪w̤̰̗̥̤n҉̰̮̞​

̡̗̞̗A̯l͖̞̭͙͇̣̬̀l̪̪̲̖̦i̤͕e͈̗̯̣͙ͅs͓̩̯̲̜͖:͓͍̭͈̜͎͎ ͕̫̳̥N̴̳͖͈̝̫̮̻o͓̟n̕e̵̗̘̰̗​

E̙̯ͅn̵̘͖̱e̳̺ͅm̲̗̲̤̮̙i̶̬͙̪͓̟e͔s̳̳̺̮̫:̗͕̼͉ ̢͍̝̬̱̰̬E҉̣v͉̬e̢̼͙̤r̪̝͙̹̞͍̙y̴̫̩̥̹̳̘w͠h̴̤̱̫e͎̺͔r͍e̢͘ͅͅ​

​

Theme​

Vestille's eyes fluttered and adjusted to the contrast of the black void and the crimson shade of red that seemed to radiate but from no point in particular. If he was fortunate enough, he would have awoken to a wreckage of his crashed drop-ship, ablaze with the bodies of his comrades littered around him and either found himself in the custody of rebels or in the capable hands of the Sith; both seemed equally as appealing, even being in the hands of scum would have provided at least some reassurance and familiarity to his surroundings. Alas, the truth to where the haunted commander found himself was a place far worse than any Rebel holding cell or Sith torture chamber. Dubrillon was gone, replaced by an abyss that stretched on for eternity and an overwhelming feeling of emptiness. A similar feeling that washed over him only once in his life before, the place where the nightmares manifested and took hold, cleaving their talons deep into his psyche night after night, trying to pry his sanity into the open to be ripped apart like carrion birds upon a corpse; Dagobah. The mental bridge between his experiences then compared to what he was seeing before his very own eyes at that moment showed some very clear similarities only... This time, he could feel and move freely in the depths of his subconscious; his hands went towards his rifle as he pulled it into his hands before he proceeded to do what any good soldier would; press on.

Step after step through the darkness, his steps were heavy and pressed against something soft and fleeting, almost like sand. At first, he believed he was walking on the sands of the beach that he perhaps crash landed upon yet... The darkness made no sense; if he was blind, he would have known yet he could see everything, as if the darkness of the void was simply a cover waiting to be peeled off to reveal whatever dark secrets were beyond. As time lapsed and Vestille kept pushing forwards, the more sinister the aura of his surroundings became, as if a non-existent wind carried an ill omen that swept over the lonesome Captain like a tidal wave. Out of the corner of his eye, he swore that he could see the feint wisps of figures tailing him, circling him, taunting him. Those rare glances that caught them soon before twangs upon his ears, picking up on their whispering between themselves. Many men at this point would no doubt start to question sanity, break down and let whatever was happening wash over them and be left to its mercy but Vestille was better than to simply fall to his knees.

He was better than that. He hadn't waded through hell just to shrink into a shell now.

So he kept going, pushing through the resisting winds that seemed to barged against his armor trying to stop him from going any further yet there was no howling or anything to even indicate there was any air, let alone a current yet the very force pushing against him felt strong enough to strip flesh from bone. Despite all this; the ghosts, the darkness that surrounded him and the biting force that seemed zealous on its intent to stop him in his tracks, the soldier fought against it all. Molded by the Galactic Empire, shaped by the Sovereignty and finally given purpose once again with the Sith Empire, Vestille had a short but intensive service record of being a man who got results and followed doctrine but also knew when to tread into the unknown and adapt accordingly and now seemed like no better time for such a plan. In truth, he didn't know if he was alive or if that fire that washed over him was his final moments. If anything, he simply knew that he had orders and an enemy to repel from Dubrillon; he would not let himself simply die until those two directives were met, his zeal was strong enough to carry his body through mud and blood but this?

This was different.

As if in a blink of an eye the path ahead was awash with flame, a towering inferno that stood before him that seemed to stretch into the skies above. The ground beneath his feet, to which he equated to sand was actually far more sinister; ashes. Like flowers in a field, skeletal hands were reached out of their graves, all reaching in one direction; Vestille. They were calling to him, inviting him to lie down and join them within the graveyard that spanned as far as the eye could see in the illumination provided by the burning spire to which the wandering soul couldn't help but feel dragged towards; the winds that seemed to wish to push him away now pulled with a gentle tug every once and a while, causing a stumble here and there as a sense of heat started to form upon the man beneath the armor, as if he was being subjected to his own tactics of being burnt alive by flamethrowers. It was painful to point where even if he screamed the flames would just burn his voice box but there was no physical pain, simply the sensation. As if the sensations weren't enough, each step created more and more dots on the horizon, figures that seemed to gather like a large mob and draw closer and closer; running... No, charging. These ones were burning, angry and screaming for nothing more than to drag the living down in the middle of the mob of the dead.

Man, woman, child- All shades seeking to kill. Instincts kicked in and a gun was raised and instantly began firing. The heavy pound of a pulse rifle sent streaks of pulse rounds ripping through the gathering shades, tearing them apart and sending their blackened ashes to the floor to stain the ground of white beneath them. Their screams were like artillery guns firing in an condensed barrage; relentless and deafening as they kept charging no matter what. A man was against a horde that seemed as zealous as he was to emerge victorious. Round after round he fired without even thinking of the ammo he was using up, spraying without thought into the mass that sought to rip him asunder. In that moment, Vestille was alone, a singular entity against a consciousness that resented everything that he had done, something so minuscule had built up its forces and waited for him to reach his most vulnerable point so that it could go in for the kill and rip his sanity apart like a predator with its prey. Perhaps this was it, Vestille was insane yet this was his way of rationalizing it, perhaps even keeping it controlled and yet he would never tell a soul, not even to the counselors that would sit with him day after day, trying to offer some form of peace to the constant sound of drums and cries in his head. It was a secret to take to his grave, one that when he would sit alone at night will remember the time that he fought his own psyche...

...Victory or defeat, it wasn't quite certain. At this point his skin felt as if it was boiling, melting even yet still he pressed on in his own charge against the coming tide. His pulse rifle had spent its last ammunition as he chucked it upon the floor like a toy, removing his sidearms and keeping up a solid rate of fire as he too began to scream, asserting his presence to the coming storm. They were inches from reaching each other, the one lone Captain against the mob of those he put to the flames; both roaring at each other like animals vying for territory. In that moment, Vestille knew what he had become; a creature concerned with not only its sense of duty but to guard its secrets to the point of silencing anyone who found out; lest it was let out of its prison deep in this abyss to surface and come to light in the face of the galaxy beyond. As shade touched armor, the screams and burning overwhelmed the Captain, drowning out any logic or thought in a sea of savage screaming and the sense of searing pain.

Silence... Peace. At least, it seemed that way until a voice called to him from the darkness.

"Sir? Sir, can you hear me?"

His service was not yet over.