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

[Ras'kala'han]

Allies: [member="Darth Imperia"]; Sith
Enemies: [member="Cedric Grayson"], [member="Cenric Marus"]; Jedi and Rebels

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Darth Vesper's Sith Interceptor was a simple cloaking ship - not even optical cloaking, simply anti-scanning tech. Though, when the air is filled with mortar, chaos, smoke, and arcs of flying plasma, that's all the concealment you need sometimes. Even so, he had ordered it to take the long way around to touch down - safety first. His safety. Also, it left him plenty of time to brew some tea. He glanced over at his co-passenger, stirring in an extra spoonful of sugar. He inhaled the steam, faintly smiling. To relax, to enjoy life - the simple pleasures. An explosion went off near them as he went for a sip, causing him to instead imbibe an entire cup of scalding liquid in a single swig to avoid spilling. Simple. Pleasures. He allowed himself a wince on that conveyed the acceptable, dignified level of displeasure as he set the cup down.

"You know, Imperia, didn't you just get a new ship? Something suitably dramatic and sturdy for this occasion? I'm not saying it's necessary but - " The ship bucked again, and the cup fell - he narrowed his eyes and it paused inches above the floor it would have shattered on. He grabbed it and shoved it in a fold of his robes, still affecting a broad smile - he could deal with it later. "It might have been, well, convenient. No matter."

He rose, dusting himself off. "The moment I sensed that presence, I knew I had to find him. Had to twist the knife. Having a fellow expert such as you come along to work with me? That's even better."

The landing platform lowered, the autopiloting droid maintaining a slight distance above the ground, ready to retreat to a safe distance - and pick Vesper up if hailed. The Sith Lord darted forwards, landing with a faint, muffled noise, a shimmer rippling as he touched the ground. He swept his hood over his head. "Let the others fight to defend their precious planet. I have no doubt we'll succeed - these rabble are barely worth consideration. What matters most is that we don't let our prize slip away: we capture the Jedi Cedric Grayson, alive, and exfiltrate with him for some breaking. And we kill anyone who gets in our way."

He licked his lips once at the thought of the man he hated laid out on a table in front of him, at his mercy, a moment of pleasure and focusing that he allowed himself before committing fully to his terrible purpose. Then, saber in one hand, a fist-sized ball of flickering, blue fire in the other, he set off at breakneck speed towards the place his senses told him his target was at, the same refinery station that so many others were hurling themselves towards, to their deaths.

But he was death. He pursed his lips as he repelled a stray blaster bolt pointed towards his skull with a gentle motion of his hand back to the one who sent it, and with a silken voice inaudible to those caught up in the din of battle, darting to his prey, he whispered on the currents of what his enemy called the Great Ocean, in each word the promise of revenge - revenge to be dealt by him, or to him for his crimes on Ession and Chiloon.

~

"Can you hear me? I am coming for you, Cedric."

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[Cenric Marus]

Objective: Take the Refinery Complex


Location: Refinery - Access Hallway
Allies: Strike Team One
Enemies: The Sith Empire | [member="Jantar Keltainen"]



Cenric tapped his comm a few times, frowning slightly and shaking his head at the ray shielded doorway before he slowly turned around. The lightsaber in his right hand winked out of life, the Padawan quickly deciding that running around with the damned thing lit would probably lead to him impaling himself. He gave a wayward glance back towards the door, then began to head in the only direction he could.

That odd bundle of nerves was still kneading in his stomach, not helped by the feeling of the darkside that seemed to creep all around this place.

He knew that it would only get worse. Their assault had been a surprise, but as the Sith became more and more aware they would flock to Dubrillion like it was a darkside salt lick. Cedric had predicted that, and although the Padawan had barely said a word during the briefings he knew enough about military strategy to say what was about to happen. All the lessons from his Master and the time he spent studying were starting to pay off, especially when it came to this sort of stuff.

Breaking into an easy jog Cenric continued down the hall.

As he turned a corner a loud klaxon suddenly began to blare. Bright red lights flashed in his eyes, and then the sound of mechanical whirring could be heard as two automated turrets dropped from the ceiling. A curse escaped the Padawan's lips, blue lightsaber flashing into life as he frantically deflected heavy laser bolts back towards the automatons.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Floating through space, preparing for a deicide...

Objective: Piracy.
Allies: [member="Katya Shorn"] │ [member="Judas Foster"]
Enemies: The Sith Empire

The air was still, a tense cloud stood between the few aboard the ship. Amongst them stood goliaths, giants of their respective categories; yet they were cold. Cold to each other, annoyed at their presence, a mixture of contempt and outright annoyance; but one that could be subsided for the moment. They were friends, but today they had a combined goal through it all;

To take down a god.

Shuttling on a single Orbalisk-Class Boarding shuttle, they moved through the darkness that lit every few moments with various turbolaser volleys and ill intent in the form of war. It was the only thing that seemed to stir them as a few shockwaves almost threatened to shake their ship from its trajectory, but each that came close subsided with minimal concern for them or their eventual goals. No, the hidden aspects of the Orbalisk was numerous, and worthy of praise; though it was the last thing on their minds.

The Slave toyed with the necklace around his neck amidst the silence, one that hid the almost immeasurable aggression in his aura. Without it, all their attempts at stealth would have been useless, as he reeked at all times of The Darkstaff and every creation he’d made thus far, a constant reminder of the darkness in his heart. Twirling its leather pendant, he couldn’t help but consider what he was doing.

Still, now was not the time for thought. Letting his hand fall to the datapad next to him, he quickly reset its operations and glanced it over a final time. It was not only the full operation manual of the AXIOS AI, but every fault, error, and zero day present in its programming; many of which were never patched or offered support. With the help of the notes from the original designer, the son who owns their design currently, and a current AXIOS AI, they’d found a number of bypasses to help take control of the vessel. All they had to do was get aboard.

Putting the datapad in his backpack, The Slave moved his fiery gaze to Katya, a young girl he managed to drag into his schemes. She was the son of a legend, even looked like him a bit too; but he didn’t know if she would carry the same punch. It didn’t matter to him, if worse came to worse they were fodder; but of the two he brought with him, he hoped she survived. She had potential, more than he could say for the other.

Moving his gaze to Judas, he couldn't help but think of how out of place he was. His massive form, overlapping plates of armor, and the sickening breath he took. He was a titan, the human embodiment of carnage and war; and an excellent choice for the mission. Still, The Slave couldn't help but think he was out of place on the interior of a space ship; he seemed far more viable on the ground, running interference through a crowd. Quickly however, his thoughts were interrupted as the intercom jutted into his inner monologue.

“T-Minus 10 seconds. 9… 8…”, the pilot offered them.

With it, The Slave stood, dawning his armor’s phrik helmet and strapping his lightsaber to his hilt. They were to be the first to attempt such an act, to single handedly destroy a ship of such scale there would be no equal. Today they were to make a legend; through theft or destruction. Whichever fared better in the moment.

Cracking a smile, he heard the ship make contact and the plasma cutters begin to cut. It was time to begin.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor lurched backward as he was impacted by the blast. His chestplate devoured a large amount of the kinetic energy and dispersed it, but the momentum still carried him backward as the Jedi intended. He exhaled loudly as it struck, abating the danger of losing his wind again. He was getting a better idea of how this enemy moved.

His HUD scanned the threat level and picked out small bits of data, like the lightsaber and apparent wounds. It noted the resistance of the armor compared to the strike from Alkor's blade and determined it was not on the level of Phrik or its like. All the while, he kept both eyes on the other man and kept the blade level, pulling it around into a guard.

That was when the man spoke. His own gaze narrowed behind the T-visor. Words in combat were typical of the affluent. Whether they were intended as divisive or constructive, they were hardly worthwhile as weapons.

His question had a simple answer, however.

"You and your friends plan on leaving if I don't fight?" he asked in a mechanized monotone, slipping the pistol from his hip into his right hand beneath his cloak.

He estimated the vector with assistance from his HUD, aimed for center mass, and the shot screamed through the distance between them. It tore through the lightweight fabric and pulled some of the threads free with it.

"Don't lecture me about death, Jetii."

[member="Wyatt Morga"]

 

[LT-137]

Allies: The Sith Empire.
Enemies: The Rebel Alliance.
Objective: Hold Refinery Complex Dorn until Reinforcements Arrive.

Dubrillion // Sith-Imperial Collection and Refinery Complex Dorn​

The Beaches.​

Bathed in the fallen pillars of sand, Khonsu found himself cursing the fates time and again. His weapon had run dry and as the supply of cartridges that came with it. The gauss rifle within his gilded clutches hummed silently, almost expectedly awaiting its hunger for the kinetic munitions to be sated.

Sadly, its innate yearning would be forever denied as the Sun Guard flipped the rifle in his hands, utilizing the weapon as nothing more than an improvised club. He had a plethora of other weapons to choose from, many of which had found themselves resting within the heart of his docked Starship. However, as the fighting dragged on and began to escalate; so too did the Thyrsian’s choler.

He wanted, more than anything, to feel the rush of adrenaline brought forth by seeing the life drain from another’s eyes. Taking his jollies from slaughtering them from afar was entertaining, sure, but it couldn’t compare.

With the haft of his rifle, Khonsu brought with the stock of his rifle upwards and clocked a charging Alliance soldier in the chin; sending him crashing to the ground. His taloned fingers carelessly released the empty rifle from his charge, allowing it to be subsumed by the brackish slosh of blood and sand beneath his feet. No longer burdened by the cumbersome weight of the Gauss Rifle, the Sun Guard swooped forward and plunged his armoured fingers into the screaming soldier’s mouth.

The micronized servos tightened beneath his grasp, pulping the hardened and polished enamel alike as he clenched his hand into a fist. The man screamed in sheer agony through what remained of his jaw, as the Mercenary tore his gauntlet from its flesh-bound prison. In a seemingly uncharacteristic moment of mockery, the Thyrsian echoed the fallen combatant’s scream through his powered armour’s external speakers. A delicious mixture of fear and anguish had glazed the man’s eyes, and Khonsu relished the sight; committing it to memory so that he may return his focus to the battle at hand.

As he left the man to gurgle in his own filth, there were others nearby that sought to avenge their fallen comrade. To make the gilded, and blood-bathed figure pay for what he had done. All semblance of order was stripped from their ranks as they rushed forward; unloading their projected rage vicariously through every depression of their rifle’s trigger. His shields rippled under their newfound assault, rapidly depleting and forcing a deafening cacophony of alarms to erupt within his helmet.

Like before, the Thyrsian silently cursed - before his lips slowly curled into a serpentine approximation of a grin.

With his burnished armour cratered and marred by carbon-scoring, Khonsu dropped to one knee and yanked off his sundered helmet. Its hawk-swept horns were shattered, and the armoured visor was breached, leaving the helm unsurprisingly useless. Like the rifle before, the helmet was casually discarded as its purpose was served, likely to be retrieved at a later date should the Empire be victorious - or left to be reclaimed by the rolling dunes if they had been defeated.

The first thing he noted, as the battle raged around him, was the pungent scent of salted air mixing with the corpse-gases of the newly fallen. It was revolting and had he been a weaker man, Khonsu would’ve doubtlessly keeled over and vomited. Instead, the man breathed deeply; rousing himself from the blood-stained sands thereafter.

He was surrounded by corpses, many of which had still breathed within their wretched bodies mere moments ago. They sought to deny him of his dreams, and his ambitions. To cast aside his triumphs and leave him as one of the many lifeless bodies that stitched the beaches. However; they failed in their quest for retribution and were violently sent into the echoing throes of the Netherworld, screaming wordless curses.

Khonsu was lucky. One wrong move during that melee and he would’ve been dead. Although his shields had collapsed during the conflict-in-microcosm, his armour had endured much of their projected vengeance. It turned his once gilded form into a smoking, blood-caked warrior that mirrored the battlefield beneath his golden-shod feet. The Thyrsian’s serpentine grin faded during the course of the fight and was replaced by a thin-lipped smile.

The fates he cursed earlier, were now gratefully praised.

As the battle raged on, and his focus returned to the events transpiring all-around him, the Sun Guard’s eyes were drawn towards one of his flanks - were the all too familiar sight of a Jedi made his presence known. That would be a challenge worthy of his skills, rather than being pitted against wave after wave of well-armed lambs sent to the slaughter. It had been an age since he had fought a Jedi last, and the Sun Guard was mildly annoyed that he had left his crystalline sword and sidearm behind.

They would’ve made quick work of the Warrior-monk, had he been freshly anointed as a knight of the Order. As he wasn’t, as his skill with a blade seemed to suggest, it would’ve made things interesting at the least.

With his mind made up, and his focus honing in on the armour-bound Knight, Khonsu surged forth through the tide of withdrawing Stormtroopers. He ignored them, as they called out that his services were needed elsewhere; that the Refinery - One of many affixed to the surface of Dubrillion - needed to reinforced in preparation for the second wave. They had spread themselves too thin along the entirety of the beach and were tactically withdrawing to tighten their grasp on the installation. Had the Sun Guard cared, he would’ve wholly agreed with that order and followed with them. He would’ve stood behind the hastily erected barbican’s and fought shoulder to shoulder with these men.

But, his greed had swallowed him whole and the Thyrsian stalked a greater prize.

Khonsu had broken through the shroud of alabaster that sought to deny him from reaching his prize, pushing aside the men and women that he dared to call his comrades in arms. They mattered little, now that something of greater importance had revealed itself; shining like a beacon amidst the encapsulating shadows. What a trophy this man’s sabre would make, the man thought as he trudged through the brackish shores.

His marred talons curled into fists as he made his approach, batting away enemy combatants that sought to halt his advance, or bathing them in the projected fire that burst forth from his gauntlet. No matter the odds that were stacked against him, he would not be denied. He would fight until his armour was battered, and his body; robbed of its strength. This was and would be one of the greatest challenges to come into his life. The man would be foolish to deny himself such glory.

However, as he made his final approach, Khonsu spotted an all too familiar face surge forth. It was Alkor Centaris, a Mandalorian Mercenary that had found himself also in the employ of the Sith Empire. They had met some time ago, on some world that the Sun Guard had forgotten, and clashed blades. The fight was memorable, but in the end - he had proclaimed himself the victor. Be damned what the truth was, or how the events had transpired! His tale was all that mattered in the end. For who amongst the Golden Company would believe one of their cultural rivals if they boasted of their laurels?

His thin-lipped smile vanished in the blink of an eye, replaced soon after by a foam-flecked snarl.

“How dare you, Centaris,” The Thyrsian muttered, before snapping his wrist forward and firing the gauntlet-mounted blasters. A nearby Alliance soldier sprung out of his makeshift cover, in the attempt to take the Sun Guard by surprise. Instead, the man was riddled with plasmatic projectiles; joining his fallen brothers below.

“That’s my kill!” Khonsu barked, as he fought his way closer - becoming a whirling dervish atop the sands, striking down any that got too close.

His taloned hands were no longer empty, as they fanned around the textured surface of his extended force pike and his combat knife, sinking into and severing flesh wherever they tread. Every weapon that was affixed to his armour, and that survived the battle’s fury, had found themselves abused as their operator fought against the tidal press. He needed to break through and claim that man’s sabre before Alkor did, as it was doubtful that his voracious desire could handle such unfulfilling dismissal.

What would make the loss sting even worse, was that the man was Mandalorian; a cultural rival to the Scions of Thyrsus. If he had claimed the sabre and the kill thereafter? That would make it the second-time victory was stolen from him by an accursed Son of Mandalore.

And so, when the opportunity presented itself and the path was cleared; the helmet-less Sun Guard surged forth - levelling his wrist-mounted blaster. Without his helmet to correct his aim and forced to eyeball it, he projected his fury into the mounted weapon and squeezed the activation trigger.

Twinned plasmatic bolts rushed from the barrels of the blaster and streaked through the sand-soaked atmosphere - seeking to take the Jedi in the centre of his armoured mass.

[member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Wyatt Morga"]​

 

[Irajah Ven]

Location: Kolto Processing Plant, Deep Lab enroute to check on Progenitors
Allies: (TSE, incoming [member="Leliana"] [member="Djorn Bline"] )
Enemies: Lack of caf. Whoever is upsetting the Progenitors (Rebels, [member="Ari Vox"] [member="Noah Corek"] [member="Elpsis Kerrigan-Alcori"] )
In Scene: [member="Jairus Starvald"]


That was a weird way to say he knew how to pilot. The play on words flew right over Vain's head (in fairness, she was very short) and she just grunted her agreement.

"I don't like subs myself, very annoying, difficult to control in the currents," came the muttered response.

Submarines, of course.

They reached the Lab airlock, a small room with a dilating hole in the floor beneath a small submersible. Clamoring up, she dropped into it, scooting over to give Jairus space as well and settling into the second seat. There were only two and it was clear she had every intention of him piloting the rig.

Once he was settled, she started punching in a clearance code. With a soft bing the system accepted it, the aperture opened beneath them, and the sub sank into the dark waters.

"The heading is the first one programmed in," the distorted voice instructed as gloved hands brought up a different set of controls. Readings like those that had been visible in the lab popped up. They were headed down into the depths beside the facility. Down where the Progenitors lived.

Vain's hands flew over the console, ignoring Jairus and his piloting by and large.

"Look at how upset my babies are," she cooed from beneath the mask. "All sorts of activity in the area, they don't like it."

It was clear that Vain also meant that she didn't like it. Oh, Vain didn't care about the facility over much. But the Progenitors? Absolutely.

"Well. We can fix that."

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Storming the beaches, facing down death's odds...


Objective: Maintain the Momentum.
Enemies: [member="Khonsu Amon"] │ [member="Alkor Centaris"]
Allies: The Rebel Alliance

Alkor had realistically won their first engagement, at least in Wyatt’s eyes. Sure, he had laid serious kinetic strikes against the Mandalorian, but there was no way to see if he cracked ribs or otherwise put reasonable damage down. He was stuck to believing he was stuck, making padawan like mistakes and repeated errors. A few more, and he wouldn’t get a chance to make another, not today, nor ever.

He could feel the foreboding nature as Alkor spoke, the force screaming for him to move; and so he did. The shot rang out, and while it was aimed center mass, it instead slammed into a thin duraceramic plate on his armor. It took the brunt of the damage, but threatened to knock the air out of him as he lurched backwards. Slugs were hard to stop, and while he got the suprise on him this time; he’d only hope he’d have the good measure to stop the next.

“I-”, he coughed up, “I don’t want to fight you.”

“You’re an idol to these men. You don’t have to be a Jedi sense that.”, he seemed to plead and resettled himself.

“Don’t let them die for nothing.”

Instantly, he was interrupted by the man he had sensed before; a dark presence on the crest of a hill calling out anger and blasphemy. Even walking towards them, rebels fell to his hand, but his more than obvious aggression allowed a plethora of time to redirect the blaster bolts back towards him.

Still, this situation only got worse. Every second that passed without his assistance, was another threat to the invasion. In his throat mic, he offered something soft to the officers still listening;

“Keep moving. I’ll deal with this.”

That, or he’d die.

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Objective: Reinforce Refinery Complex Dorn
Allies: [member="Khonsu Amon"], [member="Alkor Centaris"] (?), The Sith Empire
Enemies: [member="Wyatt Morga"], The Rebel Alliance

Hyperspace // Crusader Heavy Corvette Solvognen ​

En Route to Dubrillion System​

​

"Centurion Corso!" a deafening voice squawked out of a comm box secured to the bulkhead not far from his bunk.

"Sir!" Felix shouted before he was even fully awake. He was out of bed and on his feet at attention before he even realized his direct superior was not even in the same room.

"Report to the Strategium at once. You are required for mission briefing, this is not a drill. Our legion has been blessed on this day to be chosen for glorious battle!"

"By your command!" the Sun Guard shouted back at the bulkhead with a level of passion he knew was expected at all times on the other end of this line.

Around him, the Thyrsian mercenary could hear those under his command nearby groan at overhearing this sudden news. A quick bark from him was enough to stow their groggy lack of enthusiasm, and by the time their commander had donned his armor he had made sure every man under his command was somewhere along in the process of doing the same. Their time stationed over Bastion had been most recuperative, but Felix was ready to get back to what he was good at.

He knew his superiors were still wary of a Stellar Centurion who had spent so much of his life away from the Hierarchy, and so there was always this sense of pressure to behave as the ideal Thyrsian. Corso didn't know where they were being summoned or why, but even as he felt a shudder in the deck beneath him that signified the Solvognen had jumped into hyperspace, he knew it didn't really matter in the end. Disputes over political ideology and the wars between Force sects were irrelevant to him, as a recently evangelized practitioner of his people's faith, the only reason he was here was because it was the will of the Twin Suns.

A toll must be paid in blood before his gods would find him worthy, and the Centurion was happy to pay it.

Phaethon Assault Transport // Inner Dubrillion System​

Conducting Pre-Flight Checklist​

​

"Alright listen up!" Felix shouted so that his voice could be heard over the muffled din of the Crusader's hangar deck outside, "Two other legions will follow us in for a rapid combat insertion! The rest will come in waves, which means we're the vanguard my brothers and sisters."

To his surprise, when Corso had arrived in the Strategium back on the Solvognen, his legion's Stellar Tribune Titus Faustus had informed him that he would be serving as second for the mission to repel these invaders. Effectively the old merc had been placed in operational command of half the legion, which meant that each man aboard this dropship was looking to him to make the choices that would bring them victory. It was difficult to find his center with the burden of such terrible knowledge on his shoulders, but the Sun Guard found solace in his faith. This was happening for a reason.

"Channels across the system are a mess, so we have been unable to hail Legate Amon or his Sunrunner since the comm blackout. Our edict is to recon in force their last reported location nearby Refinery Complex Dorn and reestablish contact with the Legate. From there, we will rely on his assessment of the tactical situation planetside until communications with our Praetor are restored."

Although they were all running last minute equipment checks, he could tell by their body language that they were all paying rapt attention. He may still be thought of as something of an outsider, a latecomer who for a time had not heeded the same call, but if anything as a Stellar Centurion he had proven himself both a competent leader and deadly warrior, which in the Sun Guard counted for a lot. He ran his own checks, both on his armor's systems and the Fatebringer repeating carbine in his hands. He was reassured by the comforting feeling of his trusted slugthrower on his hip, as well as his always evolving arsenal's newest edition. Across his back was strapped a single deactivated vibro-arbir blade, a spoil of victory gained while pacifying terrorists on the Sith Empire's frontier.

"Let us pray," he said at last, moments after the Phaethon lifted off into contested space.

 

[Delsin Kessler]

Location: Looking at dubrillion far away in the MK-89ZZ
Objective: Transmiting a message.
Allies: The Rebel Alliance ( [member="Cedric Grayson"] [member="Cenric Marus"] [member="Ras Val'kor"] [member="Ari Vox"] [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Romi Jade"] ) and [member="Alyson Halle"]
Enemies: Sith
Equipment: In signature (Plus NN-13)

Starships started to drop off from hyperspace. From this distance, it seemed as little flashes of light gathering, meeting with red dots. His scanning systems were off, so there were no possible way of knowing anything that was happen outisde. Solon pulled out a simple telescope, and watch as far as the item could reach. The rebels unloaded every starfighter as possible and began to land drop ships into Dubrillion. Meanwhile, the Sith began to drop from hyperspace, although they struggle to get into position at first.

Floating near the fight with the relay signal meant that he couldn´t turn any systems on, and he knew that by know, the signal wouldnt be working. Jamm systems would be online, disturbing any comms in the area "Im lucky to have this" Solon turned at least a dozen Communication Relay Droids, writting the code before dropping them through the hatch. Once they were floating in space, they started to position themself one behind the other. The idea was to be able to continue the transmition of the signal through space without a problem "Now to keep waiting for that aid Cedric was talking about" If he didnt run out of luck, the reinforcement would arrive and finish this quick. The Sith would pay with the blood after Jaminere

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Bruised and battered, Alkor bore his pain like a badge of pride. It wouldn't permeate the Force, as he had no sense of it or connection to it, but the fact he could feel it was enough. He was alive, he was hurt, but his bioscans determined the worst of it was subdermal tissue that had been strained or stressed by multiple impacts. He could feel the bones in his chest creak and groan from not one, but two massive blows, and an uncoordinated landing.

Outwardly, he showed nothing of his ravaged body. Beskar and various other articles hid him from view, an armored man rather than a non-combatant, a Jedi, or a soldier. Instead of any of those things, Alkor was as [member="Wyatt Morga"] described. He was a source of positive morale to these Stormtroopers.

That was more than he asked for.

His name was a black mark in their history, an ink stain on paper that distorted the actual truth. They wouldn't remember or know it if they heard it. But he knew, and that was what mattered- so this Jedi's words stung more than he could imagine.

Alkor couldn't be angry, though. On the contrary, he felt the same way the Jedi did. He had no desire to kill the man, he felt no hatred toward him, so when he heard the words "I don't want to fight you," he felt the smallest pang of some distant emotion that made him second guess pulling the trigger a second time.

But, that wasn't how this worked. He had asked what Alkor fought for, and Alkor had to give him an honest answer- even if that answer was a bullet. A Mandalorian kept his promises and made good on his contracts. The money was already pending in the designated account. This man was little more than a pretext to rebuilding Manda'yaim.

When you fought for your family, emotions beyond that weren't allowed to get in the way.

He swallowed, hard; and [member="Khonsu Amon"] raged downward as if from the burning heavens, screaming out his claim to the kill. Alkor watched supercharged plasma tear past him, rapidly closing the gap toward the Jedi. If Alkor had any doubts, they dissolved as a competitor rose to contest him.

"You want your men to live," Alkor rushed forward and sent Ciryc'kar'ta slicing toward the freshly liberated flesh his slug had unveiled, "tell them to run. I'm not interested in their lives, I won't follow. He will."

 

[Jaster Awaud]

Objective: Hold down the Sith Emperors Fleet
Location: Space above Dubrillon
Allies: Rebel Space Force
Enemy: Black Iron Fleet, Sith Empire, [member="Fiolette Yvarro"]
Fleet Comp:

Spoiler

1st Rebel Armada

• 
  Delta-9 (Lucrehulk Class-X Supercarrier)- Hull: 3,000 | Shields: 3,000
  
  20 Squadrons of MS-10
  

[*]
Euphoria (Jaraden-Class Fleet Carrier)- Hull: 2,000 | Shields: 3,000

• 
  5 Squadrons of Awaud Superior Fighter
  
• 
  8 Squadrons of TCW-09 Bomber
  

[*]
Ares (Jaraden-Class Fleet Carrier)- Hull: 2,000 | Shields: 3,000

• 
  5 Squadrons of Awaud Superior Fighter
  
• 
  8 Squadrons of TCW-09 Bomber
  

[*]
Excalibur (Jaraden-Class Fleet Carrier)- Hull: 2,000 | Shields: 3,000

• 
  4 Squadrons of Awaud Superior Fighter
  
• 
  4 Squadrons of TCW-09 Bomber
  
• 
  5 Squadrons of Exodus Class Strategic Bomber
  

[*]
Shade (Mephirium-Class Battlecruiser)- Hull: 3,000 | Shield: 3,500

• 
  3 Squadrons of Thunderbird Star Fighter
  

[*]
Colossus (Mephirium-Class Battlecruiser)- Hull: 3,000 | Shield: 4,000

• 
  3 Squadrons of Thunderbird Star Fighter
  

[*]
Spitfire (Mephirium-Class Battlecruiser)- Hull: 3,000 | Shield: 3,500

• 
  3 Squadrons of Thunderbird Star Fighter
  

[*]
Exterminator (Mephirium-Class Battlecruiser)- Hull: 3,000 | Shield: 4,000

• 
  3 Squadrons of Thunderbird Star Fighter
  

[*]
Titan (Mephirium-Class Battlecruiser)- Hull: 3,000 | Shield: 4,000

• 
  3 Squadrons of Thunderbird Star Fighter
  

[*]
Wyvern (Mephirium-Class Battlecruiser)- Hull: 3,000 | Shield: 3,500

• 
  3 Squadrons of Thunderbird Star Fighter
  

[*]
Valkyrie (Mephirium-Class Battlecruiser)- Hull: 3,000 | Shield: 4,000

• 
  3 Squadrons of Thunderbird Star Fighter
  

[*]
Hellhound (Mephirium-Class Battlecruiser)- Hull: 3,000 | Shield: 4,000

• 
  3 Squadrons of Thunderbird Star Fighter
  

[*]
Colossus (Mephirium-Class Battlecruiser)- Hull: 3,000 | Shield: 4,000

• 
  3 Squadrons of Thunderbird Star Fighter
  

[*]
Amazon (Mephirium-Class Battlecruiser)- Hull: 3,000 | Shield: 4,000

• 
  3 Squadrons of Thunderbird Star Fighter
  

[*]
10 x Brimstone-Class Heavy Criuser (6,000 m) Hull: 1,000 | Shield: 500

• Completely crewed by NN-2
• 30 Squadrons of Thunderbird Star Fighter

[*]
32 x Excalibur-class Corvette (4,960 m) Hull: 200 | Shield: 200

• 
  Completely crewed by NN-2
  
• 
  Single TCW-09 Bomber
  

[*]
1 million NN-13 Droids

Jaster looked as nearly all of his torpedoes detonated before reaching the fleet. The explosion that rocked the enemy fleet was as if 32 nuclear explosions glowed outside their shields. It was so bright that the enemy could barely see past the glowing lights. The enemy Long Range Fire was random and it seemed that they did not have all weapons to bare. Catching their enemy from behind was a better choice as they now took the time to turn their ships to face the Rebel Armada.

The Admiral Smiled as he saw this bright light of Firegem-Baradium-357 explode before his eyes. His Company produced these weapons and loosing a few thousand of these missiles would not hurt him in the long run. At least he now had their attention. "Load Returning Bombers with Discord Missiles, and Strategic Bombers with 'Brilliant', load them quickly and get them to the front line with those fighter, we must keep fighter superiority."

"Yes Viceroy." Stated the Communications Officer, the missiles were fired so far away from the enemy so the resupply could be done quickly. It gave the enemy the ability to shoot his rockets down, but the powerful torpedoes were just to catch their attention.

Jaster knew he could never win against the Sith in a Slug Fest, they had bigger and badder guns then him or the Rebels. In truth they had the Mephirium Battlecruiser, but a dozen of them against the Emperors Fleet. Now that was just asking for trouble. Now a Starfighter Fleet, with Fast Acting Cruisers and Corvettes, that was Jaster's specialty. "Twoozer, lets get some music for me to concentrate,"

"Yes Viceroy." Stated the Droid.

Spoiler

[video]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qvBlHBHUTMs[/video]

Jaster looked back at the droid as it lifted its hands and started to tap its fingers in the air like it was a Marionettist. It was sending communication data along the Laser Line Communications relayed quickly by the NN-13 Droids that were now floating around in space to their pre-programmed locations. The Tactical Droid was now allowed to communicate with the Droid Crewed Ships in real data-stream of orders and programmed strategies. "Twoozer, have the Left Flank of Cruisers and Corvettes continue on a trajectory to stay at their rear and harass their engines, give the order to go in and our of medium range in groups of four, three Corvettes to every Cruiser." He waited for the left hand of the droid to start twitching, "Have the Right Flank break off and ascend above the enemy fleet, make sure they are in range to resupply the bombers and fighters, but in long range in the same grouping as the left flank, they are not to engage the enemy and continue as a support roll to the Fighters and Bombers." The right hand of the droid followed path of the left and began tapping at the air.

He then looked over to the rest of his crew who were wearing headsets in the noise of the Bridge that was now blaring music. Looking at the holo-map of the space battle, he tapped the commuincations button to the Communications Officer, "Lieutenant, Order the Battle Cruisers to divert all power from their weapons and maximize their shields and defensive weapony, I want the three fleets to stay out of the firing ark of that enemy SSD and disburse this order to the Carrier and Battle Cruisers Central Fleet...." Jaster paused as he waited for her to open a recording order, "Dive, Dive, Dive."

The Order went out as the Comms Officer replied, "Understood Viceroy."

The Fighters in the center of the battlefield were designed to keep the enemy at bay. Taking out the Droid Fighters with ease, and Standard Fighters even easier. The Interceptors and Superior Fighters were a little more difficult, but as things became evenly match for the Rebel Fighter, the Bombers came into the fray and began launching dozens of Discord Missiles into the Enemies Formation.

Jaster had many tricks up his sleeve, and one such was now landing in the hanger bay of the Super Carrier. Several Theta-Class Shuttles landed in the Hanger and Unloaded Supplies. Once finished they exited the ship and proceeded into space in several different directions and with Scanners disabled by Jammers, once out of visual range, they vanished into the Void.

Fleet Actions:

• Left Flank Fleet, moves to counter the turning enemy fleet, Firing at enemy engines
• Right Flank Fleet, moves above the enemy fleet, staying at long range firing range
• Center Carrier Fleet, moves below the enemy fleet, staying at long range and keeping Battlecruiers between Carriers and enemy fleet
• Fighter engage Enemy Fighter, TCW-09 Bomber fire Discord Missiles into enemy Fighter Squadrons
• ​Strategic Bombers undergoing Reload of Missiles

 

[Sal Katarn]

Location:
Latched onto the Behemoth's Hull

The thinsuit clung to her skin tightly. Too tightly. She tugged at the material, scowling behind the facemask. Oh yeah, it was sealed against vacuum, could stop chemicals and radiation, but Karflo found a way to make it the most uncomfortable piece of clothing Kate had ever worn.

The sooner they got this over with the sooner she could be out of the idiotic bodysuit.

Cold blue eyes stared sidelong through the mask at the guy standing next to her. She was almost ninety percent positive that Mr. Too-Bad-To-Be-Good subsisted solely off of melodrama.

"Guess I should get ready." She slid black shell spider silk robes and pants on over the thin suit, then clipped her lightfoil to a loop on her belt. "Ready."

The Orbalisk's plasma torches finished cutting through the hull and blew the circular portion of the Behemoth's hull inward, leaving a hole ringed with metal so molten it glowed orange. Kate jumped through the hole and landed spryly.


"Now you see us. . ." With a wave of her hand she bent the lightwaves around herself, [member="Arken Lussk"], and [member="The Slave"]. "Now you don't."

 

[Darth Rixas]

Objective: Reach the Surface
Allies: Sith
Enemies: Rebels
Gear: Signature Links

"The Lords and Hunters have gathered among Darth Carnifex's craft and are descending to the surface." Came a statement from one of the personnel on Oron's cruiser.

Oron's immediate response was a silent one as he turned his head in listening as the officer made his report, poised in intense thought upon the bridge as a slender, dark brow edged upwards with the flow of his servant's words. So, it appeared that the Empire would bring it's heavy handed warriors to confront their aggressors without wait or mercy. But the Sith, whether faced with many foes or few, would rarely leave the work to be done by a selected chorus. Everyone would sing in unison, creating a ballad worthy of overpowering all those who dared to withstand the song. Oron knew that all too well.

"Then I too will join."

"As expected m'lord." The officer began. "A transit shuttle has been prepared and your belongings upon it."

"Noted."

Once he climbed into the transit, the ship lifted with a legion of soldiers upon it and swiftly exited the hanger, making it's way to the surface of Dubrillion- specifically the Refinery Complex. A gloved hand inspected each of his weapons before pursing them to his outfit, as the soldiers and warriors around him did the same. Once done, the group sat in silence amidst the dark cabin as the craft angled towards the planet, ready to unleash doom upon all who declared themselves enemies of the Sith.

 

[Noah Corek]

Location: Underwater Kolto Facility
Mission: Secure Facility (or Destroy)
Allies: Rebels - [member="Ari Vox"] - [member="Elpsis Kerrigan-Alcori"]
Enemies: Imps - [member="Leliana"] - [member="Djorn Bline"] - [member="Dr. Vain Jar'He"] - [member="Jairus Starvald"]
Equipment: Armor - Rifle - Bolter - Pistols - Sword - Knives - Blade - Special Bullets - Various grenades

Noah didn't even bother to look down once they had exited the sub. When you served in a military capacity for over two and a half decades, over half of which was spent in some sort of special forces unit, things like swimming over a massive chasm in a ocean tended to not surprise of excite you anymore. As the old saying goes: same shit, different day. Quitely swimming behind the two much younger soldiers, all of them were much younger in fact, they finally reached the airlock. Many soldiers hated moments like this, waiting for the slicer to get the door open, they always had a air of tension to them. At any second you felt like you were gonna be compromised and get in a gunfight and in a area like this with virtually no cover a ambush would be catastrophic. Noah loved them though, which spoke to the amount of sanity the old soldier had.

But like most moments like it it passed in relative silence and they were inside in the airlock in a matter of a few seconds. Noah was the last in and as was custom he shut and secured the airlock. Locking his mag boots down Noah rode out the rush of water as the airlock was opened before it was completely flushed of aforementioned water. Once everyone had swept through Noah came in. Rifle raised and held in the position he had been taught since he was ten. Low on the shoulder, stock tucked just under the ball and clavicle, shooting hand wrapped tightly around the pistol grip and his supporting hands bottom three fingers wrapped around the foregrip, his forefinger flush against the side of the side and his thumb wrapped over top of the rifle. This position, which was taught to him by his mother and later retaught to him by trainers from the Republic Commandos.

Noah brought up the rear as they continued through the facility, while the rear wasn't a place to get glory or rack up kills it was none the less one of the most important flanks next to the front. This was exemplified when after passing a junction with the doors to the left and the right closed. After the group had passed Noah's ears perked up and he quickly swung around to the rear, raising his rifle to its firing position. His eyes picked up the targets before his HUD even highlighted them. Five more Quarren irregulars, lightly armed and armored. "Contact rear!" Noah called out before he fired. Six shots were fired Noah, three double taps to the three Quarren's in the center. Each shot aimed at the Quarren's hit true and the three Noah engaged fell with two holes in their chests. The two DOG's who had been just ahead of Noah in the group had turned as well and double tap the other two Quarren's. "Clear!"

 

[Samka Derith]

Location: Refinery Complex​

Objective: Secure resources​

Allies: [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"] | [member="Vaylin"] | [member="Koda Fett"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Kaalia Pavanos"]​

Enemies: [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Ras Val'kor"] | [member="Romi Jade"] | [member="Aten Ramses"]| [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Cenric Marus"]​

Equipment: Civilian Clothing​

Spoiler

(only tagged those I've seen actively posted last few pages, apologies if missed anyone!)

It was lucky she was expected.

The very place Samka had as her original destination on Dubrillon was being targeted. At the least it made things convenient.

The Ren girl was able to arrive swiftly with the help of her Stenax followers, Aga'thata carrying her small figure in his arms. The main entrances were also avoided in favour of an upper balcony. Naturally, the security had almost fired on them, Samka would have been disappointed if they didn't. The sight of a demonic tribe descending in a warzone would be outside the exceptions on even a Sith world.

A quick identity check had solved the issue before shots could be fired between the garrison on edge and the bestial Stenax. Her name, nature and anything of substance were still unknown but it was confirmed beyond doubt that she was an ally of the Emperor and taken to the security control room.

"I was told..." the security captain glanced around at her worshippers, his tone making his displeasure at the demonic creatures clear, "that our guest would be alone." Aga'thata and another Stenax at her side menacingly growled in response.

"Patience," Samka soothed her followers, "The moment will come soon. Slight change of plans," she now spoke to the Sith garrison, her tone suddenly chirpy, "enemy action has a habit of such a thing, we have to improvise, don't we?" She beamed pleasantly at the security captain.

He shook his head, even through the armour Samka could tell he was afraid. Not merely of her or of the Stenax but of the enemy. Posted to a Kolto refinery in the back end of Sith space, he must have seemed like such a safe assignment.

"I'd like to assume control," all eyes in the room turned to her, "that's not a request."

"Why should I..." The captain looked her up and down, the small girl in a dress - barely out of her teens.

"Because," Samka firmly interrupted him before he could finish. "You've never seen enemy action before, I've won a war." Her tone remained as light as ever while she spoke, making it all the more disconcerting. "I've crushed them, I've flayed their bodies and broken their minds. I've become rather good at it, if I do say so myself."

"And," Aga'thata interjected, "she is the prophet of the mighty Vol!" The Stenax cheered and howled their approval. The Sith personal looked on blankly. Samka shrugged.

"That too, I suppose." For added measure, her Dark aura pulsed out around her. Cold, harsh, overwhelming powerful. It nestled into the brains of the Sith soldiers who would suddenly find her every word all the more appealing.

The Captain relented with a half nod and Samka curtsied with gratitude. She sat at the console and cracked her knuckles, taking a brief childish joy in how the chair spun by rocking to and fro. The battle on the beachhead raged but for now it seemed the Sith forces were holding, of more concern were the reports of a breach.

Switching the security camera views around until she had a somewhat accurate view of the area. A dead Sith in the beach outside, several dead Sith troopers on the inside, many explosions. "Oh dear, they've made quite the mess, haven't they? How rude," Samka tutted. She turned to Aga'thata by her side, her voice now a soft chill, "Arm yourselves with Sith weaponry and eradicate them. The First Order aren't watching us now, their humanistic aversions to brutality are no longer a concern." The excitement in the air was almost tangible as the beasts lit up with wicked grins. "So feel free to experiment."

The Stenax filed out of the room, growling to one another with the joy of a hunt. Samka reviewed her situation, it would be best to split them up, hit them one by one. Luckily for her, just one individual had done so.

Switching cameras on the security screens in front of her, she found [member="Aten Ramses"] on a walkway making a run for the offices. "Let's warm them up," she mumbled to herself and flicked a switch. From a platform to the side of the Jedi, a turret would emerge from a panel. The machine locked onto the only organic life form and let out a burst of blaster fire.

Before she could do more, however, a chill ran down her spine. She was used to the Dark Side, she bathed in it, adored it, it was as comforting to her as the arms of a mother to an infant. Yet, even to her, there were some who walked such a path that it made her skin crawl. That thrilled her. There were only so few who had this effect, whose presence was enough to bring goosebumps to her skin, if only for a moment.

He was here.

She couldn't help but giggle and excitedly scan her surroundings for a way to make contact. The Dark Lord of the Sith had arrived personally and she could feel the anger radiating from him.

Now the enemy was truly in trouble.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Ignore. Wrong account.

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Storming the beaches, facing down death's odds...


Objective: Maintain the Momentum.
Enemies: [member="Khonsu Amon"] │ [member="Alkor Centaris"] │ [member="Corso"]
Allies: The Rebel Alliance

With a defensive form, it would be moderately easy to slap the sword away before it would have penetrated his skin, but Alkor would know this, especially if Wyatt already did. The combat up till now had proven that much, that if nothing else Alkor was skilled in combat; so Wyatt pushed for something else.

Preparing himself in a defensive stance, he prepared to block the stab and orientate it off, while his other hand seemed to outstretch it self just barely enough to give sign of a force push. Position, everything, was actively showing he meant to toss Alkor into the dirt through a judo like twist; but as Alkor closed in, it faded into something else entirely.

Without adjusting his form, Wyatt slid his foot on the ground, enough to force the dirt beneath Alkor to give way, a portion of the push pressing against his foot as his weight fell on; hoping to trip him up in his charge. Side stepping the charging man, he’d bring his lightsaber down with lightning reflexes towards the back of his knee; hoping to maim him in a spot that looked to be without as much beskar protection.

He had no intentions to kill Alkor, only to stop the fight. At least for the moment, just to give him a chance to deal with other, or escape. All the while, Wyatt tried to let the force guide him and keep an eye on Khonsu; but he’d have to make this fight on the move if he intended to fight them both at once.

He took a moment to compose himself from the flurry of activity, speaking regardless as he circled around Alkor with lightsaber at the ready;

“Maybe so, but we owe something to your men too.”, he said in a low tone; enough to make sure the oncoming Sith didn’t overhear.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Instead of seeking to defend, his opponent's arm started to move. Another one of those god-awful pushes? He was rushing headlong into that, and if he didn't stop himself, he had the opportunity to end up hammered once more by blunt force trauma that would probably end up breaking a rib and sending it through a lung, this time.

No, Alkor wanted nothing to do with that fate. Instead, he dug his heels in and whipped his arms around in front of him, seeking to take the brunt of the impact on both arms. What he felt, however, was entirely different from what he expected.

The blow came to his leg, following the same path Alkor had unintentionally placed himself on. Instead of simply stopping, his legs slid across the ground and he skidded roughly through the dirt.

His opponent struck at his leg and met the shinguard head on, rebuffing the superheated strike in a happy coincidence. Alkor wasted no time pulling his body tight, utilizing his legs as partial cover from the possibility of another like attack. There were enough points where he was vunerable that he wanted to cover all of his bases.

He aimed through his knees at the Jedi above him, since he was currently trapped. [member="Wyatt Morga"] had achieved at least half of his strategy, though it did not lessen the danger to his person. Alkor couldn't just stop trying to kill the man because he bore him no ill will. That was the difference between them.

Alkor took the shot, another one aimed to score a strike at center mass. This one was steadier, and much closer to its intended target. "Your window of opportunity keeps getting smaller," Alkor grunted back as the recoil ripped down his arm and shook his entire body. He disliked firing from this position. He could feel it in his guts.

It could be the constant impact he'd been suffering, though.

"You're almost out of chances."

Alkor knew, as soon as [member="Khonsu Amon"] arrived, it would turn from firefight...

...to bloodbath.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Objective: Posture, find the Force anomalies, maybe murder them
Allies: Rebels, Alliance, Light Side
Enemies: Sith, Empires, Dark Sides

The war was finally showing up. Rebel Alliance teams were hitting the ground and the Force was out there, screaming at him. He could feel his target. Yes, that one man, [member="Darth Carnifex"] was here. Looking around, behind his protective barrier, Coren could feel it. Was that… did the Sith just lose a ship? And who took the shot. The General was going to need to thank that person. Focusing on the here and now, Starchaser nodded. The Alliance teams were landing, and his U-Wings were getting cover. With his own soldiers forming up around him, the Jedi Master grinned. Pushing the barrier, he slammed it across the battlefield towards some grunts with guns.

He could feel [member="Romi Jade"] and [member="Cedric Grayson"] moving through the group and he took another shot at Sith before focusing up. He had a few people to protect. And it wasn’t always going to be protection by acting in an offensive manner. Moving, he let his armor’s shield give him some cover as he followed.

“Sith are here.” He called out to the other two Jedi. “Sith and… others.” He knew that feeling, but he didn’t know why it was here. Was that [member="Aryn Teth"]? The Supreme Commander was alive? Where was he?

 

[Djorn Bline]

Location: Saaraisash HQ, heading towards Kolto Plant
Allies: [member="Leliana"] | [member="Jairus Starvald"] | @Dr. Vain Jar’He
Enemies: [member="Ari Vox"] | [member="Elpsis Kerrigan-Alcori"] | [member="Noah Corek"]
Objective: Reach the Kolto Plant Facility

Orders were given and they were on the move. They had a convenient way in arriving at their objective via submarines that were specifically for Saaraisash agents and personnel. State of the art as the Empire never failed to provide its best for its subjects whether they were civilians or soldiers that served it loyally and faithfully. How could an Empire be healthy if its subjects weren’t content and treated well? In which Sith-Imperial citizens were happy with their daily lives and not taken advantage by their superiors. Now this band of rebels interrupted their lives with preaching promises of freedom, justice, peace, and whatever values they upheld to. For Djorn, it was just another group of terrorists wanting to oppress their ideals to those that didn’t ask for it. It sickened the Inquisitor, but he’d apply that to fuel his determination on wiping these Rebels that tried to humble his Empire. Oh, the havoc and chaos he could imagine that would undermine the stability and order the Empire worked for.

Reaching the vehicle bay of the complex which led directly into the beautiful blue sea of Dubrillion due to the stationed submarines that were being filled with units of Saaraisash agents and other military personnel. They weren’t the only ones that were ordered to reinforce the Kolto Plant. Good thing too. All hands were on deck and anyone capable would sure be appreciated for their service.

Leliana appeared to be agitated when communicating with her droid. Bline didn’t blame her after she informed him of the enemy jamming their comms.

We’ll just have to adapt for now. I’m sure someone will work around it,” he replied back. It was hard to believe that already the enemy could jam their communications. Even so on the entire planet of Dubrillion. Though some of the message did went through which was better than nothing.

”I usually drive ladies on a speeder when on a date, but yeah I know how to work one,”the Inquisitor replied back to his companion with a smirk. Oh, he could be a bit flirtatious with women even in times like this; however, that wouldn’t mix in with his focus on the mission. Just a little comment thrown loosely in the winds.

The agent finished his procedures on readying the submarine to submerge into the deep blue which then launched. With clear, plotted path to the Kolto Plant, Djorn carefully swam the hulk of the aquatic vehicle to not collide with any grand sea creatures or anything that could obstruct their navigation. He did this with cautios while maintaining a decent, steady velocity as there was no time to waste to reach the facility. Every second was precious and could not be afforded to be wasted. Such were the unwritten rules of war.