Junction A Rising Threat | GA and BOTM Junction of Reecee and O’reen

[Tu'teggacha]

Objective: 2 (One of Us)
Location: Lao-mon, Goshen War Camp
Tags: Alars Keto , Zachariel Steelblood

Tu'teggacha was accustomed to surges of emotion; he evoked and preyed upon them in his subjects, after all. That he himself felt no such passions - no anger, no sadness, no affection, nothing - allowed him to judge them from a distance. He knew that his lack was not an Ebruchi trait; the others in his old pirate clan had been deeply unnerved by him, even beyond his strange Force abilities. He simply had never developed the capacity to empathize, and that made him fearsome indeed. For him, there was only satisfaction, and that could be found only in control of others.

So the taskmaster showed no signs of being taken aback by Alars Keto 's outburst, and ignored the marauder's apology. "Such is the way of warlords," he murmured, mostly to himself. He was lucky that his talents were so in demand by the entirety of the Brotherhood; he was a prize too valuable to be wasted and too precious to be allowed to belong to any one warlord. But all others, every slave he broke and every recruit he met, existed as pawns for the tribes to squabble over. There could never be real security for them.

Their solution was to take out their helpless rage on the rest of the galaxy. They were good at it.

But as Tu'teggacha had observed before, Kryll was an unusual marauder. The Ebruchi found it difficult to imagine that the crazed warrior would allow anyone to hold his leash forever. He might not be leadership material, too focused on pain and destruction to build or command, but men like him could forge their own little trails of devastation through the galaxy. They might not change the course of the great powers, but they could certainly change the course of countless lives... usually by bringing them to an end. He would watch Kryll's career with interest.

"The West is dying," Tu'teggacha declared, looking over another line of slaves with disdain. They were broken-down specimens, their wills shattered by despair, good for little besides labor and beast food. Increasingly that was all they found in the last few colony worlds along their domain's western border. Though a last push to capture Oriam-Mei might find a few worthy individuals, it seemed that they had largely exhausted this part of the galaxy. "Are you eager to turn eastward, Marauder? The rich worlds of the Chiss will be a worthy conquest."

 

[Teica Giraan]

[Location: Along the Naamadi Corridor- ANV Resolution(Iblis-class Missile Frigate) - Internalized C.I.C]
[Objective 1]
[Relevant to: ]
[Commander Giraan standing by]
​

ANV...Resolution?

A beautiful one, isn't she?

Beautiful's an understatement.

Indeed it is. Good luck, commander.

Within a moment, the galaxy came down upon her.

Violent bursts of light broke out from the darkness, and shattered every sliver of success as far as the eye could see. Ten in all, could she count, before massive warships took their places. Paralyzed, the commander stood while the warped and twisted metal frames loomed above, deploying waves upon waves of fighters that descended upon the 31 Alliance ships.

"Get us out of here, Now!" Teica screamed without so much as a second of deliberation.

"I can't, I can't! They've activated interdiction fields!"

They were trapped. The claws of the Brotherhood had come to envelop the system in darkness, and they were succeeding. No matter how much the commander wanted to deny it, The Brotherhood of the Maw was succeeding.

"Scramble our interceptors, get rid of those bombers! Load anti-missile octets! Laser cannons, Standby! Prepare two diamond-boron warheads, fire into concentrated fighter groups! Helm, take us under that Crucifix, regroup with the commodore's forces!"

The Resolution twirled through a missile field as explosions rang across the surrounding energy barrier. The decks shook, the fighters nearly broke down before launch, and one by one, the interceptor missile supplies began to deplete themselves. Three. Two. One. The blast doors flew open, and within seconds, 10 A-wings charged through a field of turbolaser fire and missiles, then split into two groups to manage different sections of the frigate's spaceframe. Guns now lit ablaze the surrounding field. Bolts of compressed energy perforated Alliance and Brotherhood fighters alike.

We all make mistakes, ma'am. But not all of us learn from them. You're already half of the way, it's up to you if you want to move onto phase 2.

Thanks, commander.

Commander?

Sorry. Lieutenant commander.

I told you not to...

The Resolution ducked under, with its shields just barely holding at two percent. Something had shattered in her composure. Maybe in the munitions decks, somewhere in the missile tubes, maybe even in main engineering. Damage control teams scrambled about in a fruitless search for the origins of the malfunctions.

Teica's eyes turn a light shade of red, her hair had lost any sense of unity, now hanging in all directions from a constant series of running back and forth. Her hands had grown numb from supporting her over the tactical plot console, while her legs ached.

There.

The gravity wells seemed to have been generated by two star destroyers flanking the enemy formation. If they could...If the beaten frigate and corvettes could take down two massive warships of death and destruction, they could jump out.

"Confirm interdictor locations with the line's flagship. And get me direct ship-to-ship."

"Signal out, ma'am. You're clear."

She was thrown off balance by a swarm of turbolaser fire. The shields shattered, their respective conduits overloaded and broke down. The walls-

Sharpened fragments of hull plating scattered the ground around her. Teica's hand grabbed onto the rim of the console, and brought herself 'standing' with her knees.

"[This is Resolution Actual, Where's the commodore?]"

Every second, it seemed more and more like Ziost. Memories of sparks filling the walls came back to her in disjointed flashes of memory, while the smell of smoke began to manifest itself. The screams, rapid overlapping orders of her crew joined the fray, sounds fresh in her memory and lost to the depths alike. So powerful was the chaotic combination of memories and sounds, that the shrapnel in her knee became nothing more than an inconvenience in comparison.

 

["Whisper"]

TASK FORCE XESH
SIA CONTRACTOR ASSET: WHISPER
LOA-MON | GOSHEN WAR CAMP

Encryption keys. Even better, one of their commlinks or another communication device. Whisper knew exactly what they were after here. Acquiring one of those two items could be pivotal in future engagements against the Brotherhood of the Maw. Communication drove every aspect of warfare. The need to coordinate between elements was a constant throughout history. Intelligence -- the knowledge of the battlefield and your enemy's disposition was fundamental to victory.

If Whisper acquired their current encryption key they could reverse engineer the algorithm that encoded their transmissions by having a computer compare unencrypted data, the encrypted data, and the key - drawing causality between the three elements to uncover the mathematical principles that scrambled the meaning of transmissions. With a communication device running the encryption algorithm the programming could be directly examined, and all secrets laid bare with adequate time.

Maijan's voice broke Whisper's current intense reflection on their goals. A sharp exhale of air through their nose denoted amusement at her statement. Their focus turned outwards.

From how it seemed the Brotherhood of the Maw constructed themselves into brutal hierarchies of strength. Domination seemed to be a key factor in the order they maintained through those hierarchies.

Whisper pondered what would happen if an external force proved more dominating, more fearful than those who lead them. The unknown terror was always stronger than one familiar when perception failed.

They moved onwards, the sensor arm from their back unfolding and beginning to whirr, shining a golden light that would never be seen with Maijan's influence. Before their eyes lifeforms began to populate the various hide and bone-draped structures as golden shimmering silhouettes.

Whisper searched for their prey.



ALLIES | GA | TASK FORCE XESH | Viribus | Kirk Korrado | Kingsley | Maijan Paisea
ENEMIES | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | OPEN FOR ENGAGEMENT | Tu'teggacha | Alars Keto | Zachariel Steelblood

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Allies: Alars Keto | Tu'teggacha
Enemies: Viribus | Kirk Korrado | Kingsley | "Whisper" | Maijan Paisea​

Zachariel noted the exact slave he'd just picked out, making note to take her later. Then he turned his gaze towards Kryll and the Taskmaster, waiting for a reply. The one he got was hardly what he expected. Kryll didn't have a choice to join Maestus, but was forced into it? That wasn't to say Zachariel didn't force others to conform to his will, but the highest ranked of his Chosen had reason to be with him. Marauders were forced into things, the elite were coerced, quietly forced rather than openly. It made their loyalty all the more sure, for they had reason to be loyal to their leader.

And that also provided opportunity for Zachariel. Gaze sweeping across the Chosen of Maestus here, Zachariel saw unrest. Whether it was discomfort with what was said, agreement, or something else mattered little. All it took was a push, and they might be turned, if their leader was turned as well. A grin crossed his face, even as Zachariel slowly stalked towards Kryll.
"But what if you could?" His voice was dark, truhtful in a fashion, held promises of power, even as Zachariel closed to be beside Kryll. Running a hand along Krylls shoulder, Zachariel slowly manuevered himself behind the man, allowing his gauntleted fist to rest on Kryll's shoulder. "You have promise Kryll, you need only use it.
"You have promise Kryll, and that promise would be better suited with someone who can fully appreciate it. You could join me, and be safe from retribution, while allowing your full power to show."

The way Zachariel said it made it seem conspiratorial, a personal offer to Kryll. But truly, those closest to them would hear the offer as well. It was a way to see if there was interest, to see if they could be swayed to join the Bloodsworn. Another aspect of how Zachariel spoke was a promise of protection, and the power he offered. Looming over all present, it was easy to see Zachariel as a strong and indomitable warlord, one that could take anything. And then the Taskmaster spoke, drawing a dark smile from Zachariel.
"New lands, new conquests. Ripe for war and glory... perhaps your own command...?"

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Objective: 3
Allies: TK-818
Enemies: Viers Connory Dagon Kaze


The Master of Ren had long since yearned to face Jedi, to see another die at his blade since the days of the First Order. Now with the brotherhood had gained the attention of the Jedi. Kyrel waited for the time when he would finally gain the chance. The chance to sick his blade upon his favorite enemies. The Knights were dispatched sent to find the Jedi that had come here, for it was the wisdom of the Heathen Priests that the heretics of Ashla be brought. To either be cleansed or converted to the great vision of the Maw. The vision that drove all of them to bring forth conquest and to conquer.

When Sinh had found the Jedi, Kyrel was elated to have found his target, watching from the shadows, the undead creature a wound in the force. What one would describe as more a monster than a man. Moved along the path the Jedi were moving on a catwalk. Watching from above and cloaked in shadow, the Master of the Knights of Ren watched forth a show. Consuming the dread and fear that echoed from their very being. As if consuming it entirely as if feeding off of it in his own power.

With his saber grasped he could watch as Sinh seemed eager to please Kyrel. Going forth and trying to attack one of them that was running. He watched as the Jedi Apprentice attacked in desperation, trying to stop Sinh, and watching how the Knight would react. A grin started to spread, leaping from the catwalk onto the ground below he dropped near Viers. Cloaked by the shadow by the fear that had been enveloped into the holy city. He came to her slowly.

While she was distracted by Sinh, he soon placed the emitter of his blade to her abdomen. A muffled machine like voice came from the mask as he whispered into her ear. “Welcome to hell, Jedi “ He said as with the lose words he ignited his saber, Vader’s Bane through her chest. The blood shine blade crackled to life as it activated through her chest. Attempting to make a terrifying entrance onto the battlefield, and attempting to severely injure the Jedi apprentice before him. He only hoped to gain the attention of the other Jedi with such a brutal opening strike. The familiar hunger of the Sith Necromancers echoed into his mind, and only one command was an echo through his mind. Consume, Destroy, Devour.”

 

[Dagon Kaze]

The halberd shoved the cerulean blade of the Jedi away, but the opening the marauder sought never appeared. Instead, a rowdy Viers clinging on the man's back disrupting what attack might've come Dagon's way. The padawan's opening was there for the taking only for the appearance of a strong entity in the dark side of the Force snatching the opportunity away.

"VIERS!"

Dagon's hand snapped forward conjuring a catatonic grasp over the new arrival, preventing movement and allowing Viers to escape her grievous predicament.

Viers Connory
TK-818 Kyrel Ren

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Objective III
Tags: Maestus , Open.

He was a little hurt. After all this time she did not greet him with so much as a 'Hello' in return. It seemed that good manners were not on the curriculum when it came to the teaching of warlords in a nihilistic death cult.

Who would have guessed?

But things were different now this time. This time the Warden of Peace had a grasp of the threat he was fighting. He understood their depravity. The lengths they were willing to go to. Unfortunate as it was, they would not stop in their advance. He would be forced to deal with them. Rehabilitation was impossible right now. That left him with few options.

So when the surge of lightning was sent forth. He was moving in turn. Arete drawn from its sheath with one hand. Launched like a dart directly into the mass of oncoming lightning. And as the blade and wielder were linked on such a deep level. It was but a simple matter for Aaran to draw the power into the blade. Tutaminis was one of his favoured techniques after all. And as the glowing blade sailed through the air. The lightning was drawn into it. The electrical energy converted to raw kinetic force as it accelerated in mid-air.

But it did not seek to sink into to the Sith before him. Instead sailing over her shoulder, looking to impale the wall behind her, sinking up to the hilt into the metal.

Maestus was not the only one who no longer cared to hold back. She had no leverage, no cards to place against him. The people here were already suffering. Death would be a release for them so she could not threaten their lives.

"Hello again." His tone was calm, clipped, cold as an Arkanian sunrise. "Congratulations are in order." He said, hand moving to pull down his hood, revealing his bandaged eyes. Head tilting to the side as his neck cracked. "You've finally gotten the attention of the Galactic Alliance."

"You can surrender to me now. I can promise you that the cell you'll be kept in will be much more pleasant than the one you kept me in."

 

[Maestus]

Much had changed since their previous meetings. True, he had been subjected to her for a week. She had assaulted him in most ways imaginable. And had thoroughly delighted in his pain and agony.

She was a vile wench indeed. But she was not vile for vileness sake. Everything she did had purpose. It brought her closer to new understanding and enlightenment. She was vile in the pursuit of knowledge. She craved learning. And she had nothing against using any means necessary to further her education.

Such as now. Hew bitter enemy is before her once more. Much had changed with them both. It seemed the kid gloves were off and that's just how Maestus wanted it. There was a time for intrigue and subtlety, and there was a time for action. Now was time for action.

As Aaran Tafo embedded his sword into the wall behind her, she didn't blink. If she was to die, blinking wouldn't save her. She did turn and regard the sword briefly, considering her options. Her head snapped back front. Black eyes scanned the walkway and the area around them.

She looked down at the walkway between them. Her hands flew out in front of her, hands gripped into tight fists. She commanded the Dark Side to her, the power coursing through her veins. Her eyes began to glow red around the black centers.

The metal walkway began to twist, groaning in protest. The ground beneath both of them shook violently. But Maestus did not stop. Apparently, she was no afraid to die if need be. Though she truly liked living.

Every second that ticked by, the metal bent and was rent asunder violently. Jagged shards of metal began floating around, stinging them both like vicious little bees. Sweat dripped down Maestus forehead from the effort she was exerting. But she did not relent in the slightest. Until finally...

CRASH

In between Aaran and Maestus, the metal walkway was ripped in half. She was closer to the ledge and hallway behind her. Aaran, not so lucky, as he stood between Maestus and the other end of the bridge. Unless he reacted quickly and crazily, Aaran was going for a long ride down. To hedge her bets, Maestus growled and lashed out at Aaran with Force Push. She sent out a crazy blast of Dark Side energy at the Jedi, hoping to give gravity a hand in pulling her foe to his demise.

As for herself? She jumped back and grabbed onto the grating of the bridge with both hands as it broke, clinging for dear life.

​

​

 

[Viribus]

R E D _ H O R N E T
GALACTIC ALLIANCE
CARRATOS
MY_GUYS | Maijan Paisea | Kingsley | Kirk Korrado | @“Whisperer”
THE_OTHERS | Alars Keto | Tu'teggacha | Zachariel Steelblood

​

This was highly unconventional compared to what they were used to. Normally, Task Force Xesh would be used to target organizations that were politically sensitive for regular operatives. Criminal, political, and corporate were the typical targets they dealt with.

But this? A cult full of zealots from the Unknown Regions? That was something new to the mischievous band of criminals. Couldn’t be as bad as Sith fanatics as there were some folks that were mad enough to worship entities of the Dark Side even when not gifted to use the Force.

"Trrread lightly." The Fallanassi mistress reminded her companions, keeping her voice hushed. "Rremembuh I can only hide how you look, not how you sound." Pause. Sniff. "Or... smell."

“Geez, Mai, if I was reeking of chit, could’ve been more upfront about it.” A small, lighthearted joke; which was something unusual coming from him as he was the one with an attitude that didn’t screw around unlike his Fallanassi companion who was more lax and a little carefree.

“Besides I don’t these freaks have a keen nose with...well, with whatever the hell they got in this dump.”

Almost everything was primitive. Totems, small huts and makeshift tents. Everything in this campgrounds was so uncivilized.

“Observe what these freaks are and then what? Sabotage? Name of the game, Mai?”

Plenty to learn and see from these people. If they were renowned for their many raids, then they were indeed a force to be reckoned with.

“We keepin comms with the others around here?”

 

[TK-818]

Objective 3: Cat and Mouse
Location: Tu'teggacha 's Dungeon Domain, Holy City of Gehinnom
Tags: Dagon Kaze | Viers Connory | Kyrel Ren | Inferious

​

The saber of his enemy, Dagon Kaze , crashed against the ultrasonic Mandalorian Iron. Pressed and released to slide with the momentum guided away by the reach of the Knight of Ren's weapon. For a split second Sinh saw an opening, an opportunity to follow through with another attack before it was dashed by the surprise assault of Viers Connory .

In quick measure the crafty adolescent had climbed on his back, wrapped her legs around his torso, and even managed to get a saber near his throat. Clever girl.

Her demands and taunt was met by a deep bellowing growl distorted under the mechanical filter of his vocabulator. He was in a delicate situation, he could feel his anger swell within him, building upon itself with such pressure, such force. He was a volcano ready to explode, he only needed opportunity.

A second passed, his ears perked at the sound of his master's voice muffled under the crimson welded cortosis mask. He paused for a moment, realizing the course trajectory of the weapon before another surprise from the Jedi Dagon Kaze. The act was quick and ingenious, yet it also allowed the Knight of Ren to act.

Taking advantage of the moment of surprise, the Knight of Ren attempt to wrestle control over the lightsaber from the young Jedi. Moving toward the edge of the walkway, the Knight of Ren flung the two of them off, aiming for one of the nearby walkways below and hopefully not into the Abyss that stretched on beneath them.

 

[Xashe Tistya]

OBJ III- Cat and Mouse
Creuat | OPEN TO OPPOSITION
​

Xashe followed closely behind her master, glancing around nervously. The holy city lived up to its name- spooky holy symbols say in every corridor, as if they were watching their every move. It was like nothing they had ever seen before. Somewhere, far beneath where they stood, she could feel pain emanating from the poor souls they had come to liberate. She swallowed, attempting to hold back the tears for others.

It was almost surreal, her first mission as a Jedi. As a kid, she had dreamed of this day. Now that it was here, she felt utterly stupid. There was no heroics, no moments of greatness. She simply attempted to muster the bravery and push on, knowing there were those who needed her to.

"Do we know what to expect?" She asked her master in a hushed whisper. As a padawan, he wasn't privy to as much information. "How many people they're keeping, or if we will... run into anyone?"

Another wild glance around. Another question.

"Do you think I'm prepared for this? I dont feel ready..."

 

[Stalker Corvus]

EQUIPMENT: Armor - X | Main-Hand Weapon - X | Off-Hand Weapon - X | Wrist Weapon - X
OBJECTIVE 3
Primary RP Partner: Open
Enemies: Galactic Alliance
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw
Headset Playing: The Shadow of the Undertaker

​

The Stalker - Corvus - was ever silent and vigilant in the shadows of Gehinnom. Long had they loomed in the shadows for much of this battle's duration, making indistinct animalistic grunts and hisses at each body felled. Hollow, lensed eyes of the crimson glass watching with grave intent - watching those of the Brotherhood and those of the Jedi fought each other. Vultures scavenging for treasures, lives, and other manner of things. Had they been able to speak, the Stalker would have commented on the obscene brutality of this citadel and of the tactics employed by the Brotherhood, and of the tactics employed by the Jedi. The former, eager and hungry, and the latter, weary and wary in the halls of this dark realm of evil.

But they could not break their oath, and so Corvus maintained their panther's silence. Worming their way through vents and empty hallways and even climbing on the walls and ceilings, all to work their way to the great bridges overhanging the bowels of the citadel. Combat there could be quick as most of the Jedi would be occupied with their more glaring opponents, which suited the Stalker quite nicely. They could strike with their blades unseen and blast them apart from a distance.

Darkness for the blade and blaster, the true way of the true Siris Sharon.

Cut them down, gun them down. Unleash that anger. Harvest their bones.

A quick turn and leap down a ledge brought the Stalker onto the "ground" floor where the bridges started and ended, and a subsequent sprint into a nearby wall, where they flattened, hid them from sight once more. For a moment, Corvus stopped in that darkness and thought with a hidden smile. Even with the sounds of battle, and the sounds of the words muttering inside their head, the music in their helm was the loudest. This did not bother nor hurt them and instead spurred thoughts and into their mind to visualize did they go.

Remember why you are here.

"Wuch Yaw̃v," as the Stalker had dubbed the Brotherhood in their journal, was not something they had come here to truly support, at least not initially. Close had their species, the Siris Sharon, drawn to the borders of the Wuch Yaw̃v, close enough to watch from a distance and learn that their's was a land of anarchy even amongst themselves. This was in stark contrast to the Siris Sharon's more code-bound and blood-bound ways which held things in rigid order of religion and meritocracy - yet they too had their own extremists, such as Corvus.

Still, the domination of this part of the Galaxy, in which the Siris Sharon had long roamed, was enticing to the Elders and so was their greatest and worst outcast sent. They likely expected their outcast to die, but Corvus had not, at least not yet. They had thrivingly survived in those initial days and quickly learned many names within the Wuch Yaw̃v by way of organizations and cults. As informative as that was to those back home, it was not enough. They needed more information, tactical and cultural and all other sorts before they would allow their outcast to return home.

Thus, Corvus was not here to help in the ways of a true loyalist to the Wuch Yaw̃v. Instead, they were here to watch and scrutinize like a vlů̃mme̊ an, or "corpse bird." Their fight against the Jedi was merely going to be a test of their abilities, but in another view of things, the Stalker could admit that it was also their easiest way to integrate into the Brotherhood.

To begin that path to return home.

 

[Alars Keto]

Objective 2: One of Us
Location: Goshen War Camp, Lao-Mon
Tags: Tu'teggacha | Zachariel Steelblood

The Chiss was a conquest worthy of the Maw, one that would feed the war machine tenfold, increasing their reach and power across the Unknown Regions. To say he was excited to combat the intellectual masterminds of the Ascendancy would be an understatement.

"The West had their chance. I'm ready to tear Csilla apart, rend the Chiss limb from limb. Always the arrogant ones."

His head twisted, his sight snapping to the dark touch of Zachariel Steelblood , the Warlord who offered him a valued place at his side. "My own command?" He knew not what he'd do with such, he had been the lieutenant of Katachi Ren for a significant time now, and his recent 'coercing' by Maestus into service had brought nothing but hidden rage bubbling beneath the surface.

"On one condition."

His mouth stopped moving as an explosion rocked near the lined slaves, Shi'ido freedom fighters emerging from the shadows firing pocket shots and moving fast through the area. Their forces fired at the Brotherhood and grabbed what supplies they could making their way out as quick as possible.

The marauders could not let these creatures get out of their sight lest they blend back in with the workforce.

"SHOOT 'EM! GRAB EM' YOU INGRATES"

Kryll screamed toward the approaching group of 'marauders'.

Maijan Paisea | Viribus | Kingsley | "Whisper"

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Objective: 2 (One of Us)
Location: Lao-mon, Goshen War Camp
Tags: Alars Keto , Zachariel Steelblood , Maijan Paisea , Viribus, Kingsley , "Whisper"

The Taskmaster watched impassively as Zachariel made his offer to Kryll, his huge, bulbous eyes unblinking. This was another of the games the warlords played, jockeying for position and competing for assets. When something they desired had already been seized by one of the others, that did not mean that the contest to control it was over. Tu'teggacha had heard that the Sith believed such internal strife strengthened the whole by allowing the strongest and boldest to rise the highest. He was not certain whether that was true.

But it meant little to him. He was not employed to break or train warlords, after all.

Before Kryll could fully respond, however, the war camp was thrown into chaos. Well, greater chaos, anyway. Tu'teggacha had known that Lao-mon was not fully pacified; the elusive Shi'ido had melted into the jungles during the invasion, many of them returning periodically to fight back in hit and run attacks on the Maw's base. It seemed that he had arrived at the perfect time to witness such an occurrence, though he had no desire to. He trained warriors, but he was not a warrior himself, and did his best work well behind the front lines.

Cries of alarm rang out throughout the camp, and groups of marauders rapidly charged in, hoping to surround and capture the changelings; the aliens could be broken and transformed into incredibly deadly slave-soldiers, so taking them alive was an unusually high priority. For his part, the taskmaster scurried back from the lines of slaves, his neuronic whip coiled around his hand. He took cover behind a stack of crates, ready to lash out at any freedom fighter who came his way. Beyond that, he would have no part in the fight. It wasn't his way.

"Ready the Branchlurkers," he hissed into the minds of the creature tamers. Just in case.

 

[Gren Blidh]

Objective: 1
Allies: The Mongrel CETCOM
Enemies: Constantine Oliva Teica Giraan

The order was given, and the Maw fleet cut through hyperspace. Gren's Path provided the way; the unseen fleet would appear, monolithic, before the assembled Galactic Alliance forces in a terrible ambush. Caught between two knife edges, they would now have to fight for their lives. There would be no escape on this blackest of days.

Blidh wiped the blood droplet from his cheek that had trilled down from beneath his eyepatch. Accessing the Paths was mentally taxing. As the Somberlane dropped out of hyperspace to descend upon the unfolding battle, the Maw navigator punched in Mongrel's comm frequency.

"Do what you do best. We'll clear the way."

The Somberlane, at the head of a group of Maw starfighters, descended upon the ANV Resolution ahead of the Mongrel's boarding pods. The freighter's double heavy laser cannon turrets and autoblasters came to life, lighting up the hull of the enemy ship as it strafed the frigate's tower with speed and abandon. Maybe it was enough to bring down the Resolution's weakened shields, maybe not. But Gren banked left, knowing his offensive action would pull the attention of the enemy interceptors towards him and the other starfighters, giving Mongrel's party an opportunity to board.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Objective III
Tags: Maestus , Open.

He figured that the platform under them was going to be wrecked eventually. But as an opening gambit? Maestus seemed to want to end things quickly, which was quite the disappointment. He wondered just what it was that made the Twi'lek so impatient to get rid of him. Clearly his charming countenance was making her uncomfortable for whatever reason.

So when the bridge collapsed, he did not move, he did not leap away. He simply allowed his body to lean backwards off the railing and fall into the abyss.

It was a curious sensation to fall without seeing the world around you. The only sensation he had was the whipping of wind against his ears and the sensation of Maestus' kinietic push forcing him further downwards. In his blinded state, he had no idea if he would be falling just a few more feet, or for a kilometre.

So there was little reason to panic. Without the visual stimuli to disorient him or tell him where he was, all he could do was trust in the Force.

Pulling on that feeling. His hand reached out, calling upon the energy field that bound the universe together. He reached out with his senses grabbing at the same railing that Maestus was so desperately clinging onto. While he fell, his lips were drawn into a slight smile. Finding amusement at the direction given to him. Of course he'd use her own act of aggression against her. It seemed only fitting to forever turn an enemy's aggression against them. Letting them suffer the consequences of their own actions.

And with a sharp flick of his wrist. The railing that the Sith was clinging too came loose. Dragged by an invisible force downwards into the pit. Hopefully taking the lethan Twi'lek with it. Having them both plunge into the abyss. Surrounding by howling wind and the cackling of a blind lunatic. "You're not getting rid of me that easy!" He cried out.

"I'm afraid there's no running away this time."

 

[Maijan Paisea]

TASK FORCE XESH

LOA-MON | GOSHEN WAR CAMP
HEATHENS

​

Maijan tensed, ignoring much of what Viribus had to say. Not to be rude, but because unpredictable streams were cross-firing in the White Current, conflicting with some of her machinations.

“Stop,” she hissed, pointing a golden finger in the direction of the Shi’ido that had seemingly emerged from out of nowhere. They were full of vengeance, rebellious and thrashing against the smoothness of the current that had existed in the war camp before their arrival. A grin cracked against her dark lips, the corners pulling wickedly. “This is good.

We’ve been asked to see how they rrreact to thrreeats –– and we didn’t even have to do anything.”

The Shi’ido were angry, marvellously adjusting their shapes as they moved; slowly beginning to mimic their surroundings of skulls and brutal warriors. As an illusionist, Maijan was well-impressed by the ability to manipulate the physical so readily.

With a flick of her wrist, the woman’s fingers gently curved in a J to extend beyond the invisible umbrella she kept her companions beneath. The hand managing the invisibility that protected the rest of the task force clenched into a fist, the other increased the size of the attacking group of marauders. Replicating one or two of them into intangible images that followed the movements of their origins.

"Depending on how this goes, you should be prreparred to get involved." She suggested, tilting her head toward the warrior-born Zabrak.

ALLIES | GA | TASK FORCE XESH | Viribus | Kirk Korrado | Kingsley | "Whisper"
ENEMIES | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | OPEN FOR ENGAGEMENT | Tu'teggacha | Alars Keto | Zachariel Steelblood

​

 

[Ripley Kühn]

LOA-MON | GOSHEN WAR CAMP
OPEN TO INTERACTION

Infiltrate. Become one of them. Learn. Information is priceless.

It had been weeks since the orders were given. Ripley stared into the mirror that hung from strings pinned to the tent walls. The mirror stared back. She hardly recognized herself. Saphhire locks, normally flowing, were a tangled mess. Her fuchsia skin bore marks of black and red, signaling her as a new recruit, and a follower of the avatar of rebirth.

Reborn she had been. Encapsulated in darkness, the isolation from all those she held dear had taken its toll. The invisible webs of spite that surrounded her were almost palpable. Somewhere, in the recesses of her mind, she knew this was not the way- but she was powerless to change it. Her mind floated to the kiffar. She had tried to explain the same to him, and when she failed miserably, drove a wedge between them. Squeezing her eyes shut, her head fell. She wondered what he thought, not hearing from her. Many a night the zeltron wished she could have one call to just explain, but it wasn't possible. Deniable asset.

A stirring in the mouth of the tent drew her attention. A marauder, one she had patrolled with before, stood in the opening.

"Yes?" The word was stiff.

"There's a stir in one of the camps. We've been ordered to guard the keep."

Ripley's eyes widened, but only momentarily, as she attempted to regain her composure. The keep. Droves of intel, just out of reach for so long. Gears in her head began to turn. If she could get access to even a few of the important documents kept...

Nodding in response, she moved to grab her weapons- a blaster, and the staff that had been traded for her lightsaber. The zeltron fell in step with her fellow as they exited the tent.

 

[Asmundr Varobalder]

THE_WARDEN
THERE IS NO CHAOS, THERE IS HARMONY
THE NEW JEDI ORDER | HOLY CITY | OBJECTIVE III - FREE PRISONERS
VOICES

​

–– they reach out, they reach out, they reach out. Tens on tens of voices reach out –– and The Warden reaches back. Follows. Responds with gentle reassurances through the intangible link that unites all living things. The Warden offers, and offers, and offers, and the imprisoned voices take and take and take; they don’t know it, but they take.

The Warden continues to give, but as he moves through the misty unknown of the stoney corridors, he reaches out. Not at random; but looking for a path. He doesn’t find one. Two points define a line. One point is alive, and one point is death. Neither is definite and he frowns deeply in understanding. Much fate existed here, but all of it was unwritten. Too much intrusion, too much chaos. Too many lines intersecting and all incomplete. A dark voice cut them all off, and while the words that were piercing those connected to the darkness were unheard by the Jedi Master, the sentiment was not lost.

He exhaled heavily, rolling his massive shoulders to reorient himself in the present. There was danger encroaching, hubris-laden danger; dragging along with it murmurs and promises of something The Warden could not see. But it felt divine. He quickened along the stonework, tracing the pathway that lead him to the mouth of where the voices reached out to him. Took from him.

Lines of cells, occupied, greeted him as he peered down into the carved-out space. Darkness bubbled and boiled here, a strange feeling unlike the typical wretchedness of The Sith. Something more mutated.

Pressing about the corners of the area, the massive Viking sought the signatures of the taskforce. It seemed his companions had been distracted, otherwise engaged. A low grumble of discontent clicked at the back of his throat, and he made a gesture in front of him as if turning a massive knob to an invisible door. There wasn’t much light here, it was all within him; and for one who had been welcomed by the Force, given the opportunity of Oneness; it would be enough.

Along with the gesture, he exhaled deeply. Reaching into the presence of the Jedi prisoners gathered within the confined. He could feel their agony. And he would liberate them from it with the harmony of the light he had to offer. With this union, some of the lines started to intersect. To make sense. Being overshadowed and dragged down by a single individual who wrought havoc on the minds of those confined from Jakku. The lines drew him to her, and Asmundr found himself scowling.

In a decisive moment, his movements were swift. From the concealed ledge he’d been on, he lunged into the centre of the facility; landing not too distantly from an insidious warpriest. It was hideous, well and truly. The ground cracked around his feet from the sheer force of his weight, and he adjusted to stand tall.

“You, and the evils that are being done here, are coming to an end. Surrender these prisoners to me.”

BATTLEMELD: NOPE, BUSY, BBYEE​

ALLIES | NJO | GA | Dagon Kaze | Viers Connory | Aaran Tafo
ENEMIES | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | ENGAGING Anabasa | SOON Stalker Corvus

 

[Anabasa]

Asmundr Varobalder

​

Elsewhere in the city, the trap was already sprung. Jedi were fighting for their lives against the Maw's warriors. And yet, the Warpriest hadn't been able to find an opponent. Yet. She could sense one approaching, a beacon of light blindingly bright in this dark. She turned, tracking the movement of the glimmering giant. He was approaching fast. The hideous figure turned, staring down the Jedi Master as he fell. He was going to land close...too close. She could feel the ground shake under his weight as he landed.


"Welcome," the voice that came from the faceless form was raspy and inhuman, "Your fellow Jedi will fall quickly. I do not have the luxury of toying with you today."


With that, the Warpriest's glossy black arm flew up from under her cloak of skin. Her hand, thin and ending in finger that appeared more like needles, extended towards the Jedi. Following it was a massive wave of force energy, intended to send the Jedi flying again. It was doubtless he'd have a lightsaber, and Anabasa couldn't risk a close-quarter fight without hers. The darkness rippled out from her mind, into the various prisoners nearby, as their tormenter wrestled for control with her opponent's light.