Invasion All Your Base Are Belong To Us! | TIC Invasion of SO Held "Thandon Star Cluster" Superhex

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Objective I - Storm the Tower!
The Brosian Ore Conglomerate Mega-Tower
Interacting directly with: Kasir Dorran
Eventually: PT-45 "COWL"
Outfit: x Saber: x

Soah didn't flinch when Kasir's voice whispered through her mind, at least not anymore. The first time it happened, she'd nearly jumped out of her skin, claws half-drawn, snarling at the sensation like a Nexu cub hissing and batting at her ears. Back then, having someone else's thoughts pressed against her skull had felt like an invasion. Just wrong and unnatural. Too close,

Now?

Now it just made her ears twitch.

<<Okay then, let's get you that snack>> she replied. It was honestly impressive that her mental tone was as flat and unimpressed as the look on her face, despite the fact that this was actually her rather cheerful version of a deadpan tone.

Soah adjusted the double staff Kasir had given her, letting it rest against her shoulder. A slow exhale left her lips as she watched the chaos unravel below, watching the zombies in the streets, turret fire echoing through the haze, and that one confident schutta acting like he was about to star in someone's war poem.

Honestly, part of her was actually glad she had the helmet, even if it felt a little strange. She could only imagine the rotting scent from the putrid zombie hordes.

Maybe it might even be the worst smell outside of Naamino Zuukamano 's pits.

A sudden thought came to her as that slitted gaze narrowed slightly, and the sentient ink along her limbs stirred with slow anticipation under her armor, as if it could already taste the fight thick in the air.

<< Lets bring him back to the ship. Test out the richness in the next set of bloodtarts. >>

SHe was quite curious about that. Maybe different types of blood would make for better, richer, but balanced blood tarts?

Yes, she nodded to herself. I'll start collecting samples moving forward.

That decision made, Soah followed Kasir a second after he stepped off in a rush down the street straight at PT-45 "COWL" .

She landed with a predatory grace, following in pursuit. The goal was to move as quickly as possible, overwhelm, and subjugate quickly.

Hand tightened its grip upon the saber staff, intending to work in tandem to Kasir's opening attack and then ignite her saber, seeking to take advantage of any potential distractions by her Master before she slid in to flank to try and slice at PT-45 at knees.

The bloodbag didn't need limbs for the use she needed him for. Might as well get this done quick!

 

[Darth Virelia]

Tags - Brent Warnel , Braith Achlys
Equipment - Tyrant's Kiss, Tyrant's Embrace, 3x CV-1 Gas Grenade (The Choking Veil)​

There was a symmetry to it. Three strangers—none of them Imperial—drawn to the same rot-black tower at the edge of a dying world. Not by alliance. Not by order. By intention. By the kind of gravity that pulled sharp minds toward ruin like moths to the embers of their own undoing.

Virelia tilted her head, six eyes narrowing as she took them in—him, all reflex and desperation, drowning in borrowed fire; her, a revenant wreathed in crawling flesh and veiled power. The Force curled differently around each, but it did curl, like smoke around bone. This was not coincidence. Coincidence did not echo like prophecy.

"You mistake this for a conundrum," she said plainly, no louder than necessary. "But it's an answer."

Her voice was steady, the cadence clean. "None of us are Imperial because the Confederation, for all its discipline, lacks imagination. And imagination is the only currency that matters here." She gestured, vaguely, to the world outside—the blight, the bombs, the bodies. "This place is not a warzone. It's a crucible. Not because of what the Imperials hope to extract—but because of what we bring into it."

A pause. Then, with almost surgical interest, her gaze shifted from one to the other.

"You want something. Both of you. Something you're willing to cut through monsters and ghosts and gods to claim. That makes you more dangerous than them," she nodded faintly, toward the skies where drop-pods still howled. "But it also makes you fragile. Purpose can harden, or hollow."

Another moment passed, quiet, but tense—like the breath between prayers.

"So," she said, stepping forward just once, not threatening, merely closing the philosophical loop. "What do we do with three non-Imperials on a world caught in collapse? We learn what we are. Through pain. Through conflict. Through revelation. This tower will know what you bleed for."

A faint hum stirred at her core. The glyphs on her armor began to pulse—just enough to answer the question no one had spoken yet.

Battle would come.

"Darth Virelia, Governess of Polis Massa."

The words came out as a challenge, a statement of friend and foe.

She was ready.

 

[Haro Aven]

​

LOCATION: OUTER RIM > STYGIAN CALDERA > DOSTRA SYSTEM > BROSI SPACE > THE OMEN HANGER BAY​

OBJECTIVE: PREPARE TO DEFEND THE SITH HOLY WORLDS FROM THE IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION WITH Naamino Zuukamano ​

​

​

War had returned to the Holy Worlds, and it had not been brought by the Galactic Alliance as Haro had anticipated, but by the Imperial Confederation. It turned out that the Sith had more enemies than just the Jedi, which made sense. From what Haro understood, the Imperials didn't deserve to hold dominion over the Stygian Caldera any more than the Sith Order did and the galaxy would likely be a better place with a few less Imperial pilots in it. At least that's what he told himself as he made his way to the Interceptor he'd been assigned.

Inseparable as they had been since that first ruck march into the deserts of Korriban over a year ago, Haro and Naamino strode out onto the hanger together, side-by-side. For this battle, Naami was to be his commanding officer and it was clear that the Zabrak was rather satisfied with the position.

Haro gave his buddy a sidelong look, a mischievous little smirk curling the edge of his lip. He veered closer until their shoulders collided.

“Alright, Squad Leader,” he teased in a tone reminiscent of their first flight together. “You think you can keep up this time?”

“Oi, I keep up— just cuz I’m not doing trick shots and testing the limits of physics at every turn doesn’t mean I’m slippin.” The big zabrak balked gruffly even as he threw a companionable arm about Haro’s shoulders to shake him a little with eagerness for the battle to come.​

“Sure, sure,” Haro ribbed, grinning wide as he wrapped an arm around Naami in turn, and offered a reciprocal squeeze. “Whatever you say, buddy.”

The burly young man jostled his friend back, enjoying a moment of walking in lockstep before ruffling the back of his stylishly messy hair.​

​

“Don’t you sass your commander, Aven. If I catch you tryin’ anything too risky it’s not a write up you’ll face, it’s me telling Lesh.” His tone was playful, with the hint of a laugh rumbling beneath the surface.​

Haro chuckled along, swatting at the hand ruffling his hair before he shook it out in a quick correction, but his grin faltered at the mention of Leshanna Dromar and briefly faded to a fond but solemn smile as he reminisced on very fresh memories of their bittersweet goodbye. The thought of her filled him with warmth and made him ache all at once. He hated having to leave her behind again on Korriban, especially after how upset she had been the last time he and Naami had gone off to war without her, but once again their duties called them away to different battlefields. That little voice in the back of his mind, the one he had to constantly shove down but only seemed to grow louder and more insistent with time, reminded him that someday he would have to leave her behind for good. He did his best to recover his companionable grin and keep up the spirit of the banter.

"C'mon now," he complained with mock defensiveness. "I would never. We made Leshy a promise, one I certainly don't intend to break. I doubt death would save us from her wrath if we did." He gave his buddy a knowing look, before he punched him in the shoulder.

"I'm just tryin' to make sure that head of yours doesn't get so big it can't fit in your helmet." Haro laughted at his own cleverness and began to veer away as they neared their starships. Before they parted ways though, he held up a hand to be met with a high five.

"Good luck out there, buddy. I've got your back," he said as he jogged off.

Upon approaching the interceptor, the young pilot pulled Bodie out of his pocket and the two of them did a quick assessment of the craft. Despite knowing it had been tuned and prepped by The Omen's mechanics prior to this flight, Haro always felt better running his own diagnostic before putting his life on the line in the merciless vacuum of space. He caught Naami's eye from across the way and grinned, saluting him before he climbed up into the interceptor and settled in to conduct the rest of his pre-flight checks.

As always, the familiar sensation of being in a cockpit simultaneously thrilled him and put him at ease, despite the impending violence and risk of death. He did not revel in war, but he was glad to have been deployed as a pilot this time. He had sorely missed flying and, honestly, he would much rather die in a cockpit than somewhere lost in the trenches of ground warfare.

"Testing comms, Aven do you copy?" Naami's deep voice crackled through the comms.​

"Copy, Ghoul Leader" Haro responded.

He listened to Naami's speech as he finalized his launch sequence, smirking about how much his friend clearly enjoyed being in charge.

"Hoo-rah! Ghoul Squad sound off!" Haro called out enthusiastically into the squad's group comm channel following Naami's final rallying command, and the rest of the squad responded with rallying cries of their own as the Sith interceptors pulled out the hanger one by one. Haro then keyed his private comm link between just he and Naami.

"Nice speech," he teased.

LOCATION: OUTER RIM > STYGIAN CALDERA > DOSTRA SYSTEM > BROSI IN ATMOSPHERE​

EQUIPMENT: FLIGHT SUIT | BODIE | SHIP​

OBJECTIVE 2: DEFEND BROSIAN ORE MINES AND SITH RESOURCES FROM INVADING FORCES; ENGAGE ENEMY STARFIGHTERS​

ALLIES: Naamino Zuukamano | Lysander von Ascania | Soah Ty’Jyn ​

ENEMIES: Ronhar Tane ​

​

Ghoul squadron, composed of a dozen Ragnos-class Interceptors and led by Haro and Naami, kept a tight formation as they descended into Brosi's atmosphere. Their initial vector took them down near the Brosian Ore Conglomerate Mega-Tower where they knew friendlies where expecting assistance. The massive monument stuck out like a sore thumb right smack in the middle of the fortress-city of Shoengen while chaos and violence churned all around it. As they drew nearer, Lysander's ghost link channel hailed and Haro accepted the transmission, fully expecting to be entertained by whatever the quick-witted blonde had to say.

“Iceman, Lieutenant Horns, Mistuh Ignati.. hear me now.”​

"Iceman to Hellfire, hear ya loud 'n clear."​

He couldn't help but grin as Lysander began singing into the comm, the lyrics typical of the boy's dark and broody style and no doubt about the mysterious senator girl he was clearly in love with. Reducing speed and falling into line behind Naami, the two broke off from the larger squadron and took their ships in closer until they had a visual on the drop point, then keyed in the commands to empty the tanks of gel fuel onto the battlefield, dousing enemy lines in the highly flammable liquid.

​

"Hey bro, don't get too carried away with that flamethrower," Haro cautioned Lysander. "Might be poetic if you ended up being consumed by your own flames, but it would be super embarrassing if you just ended up burning all your hair off."​

"Gang, don't forget, the first rule of war… is to have fun." Varin spoke up next.​

"Is it? I thought the first rule was don't die," Haro shot back as he followed Naami in a wide arc around the mega-tower.​

​

Their initial support run complete, they joined up with the rest of Ghoul Squad and took off in the direction of the ore mines. As Haro was keying in his new vector, his sensors pinged, warning him of enemy fighters incoming.

"Looks like we've got company." Haro fired up his laser cannons in preparation.​

​

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Outfit:
Flight Suit & Helmet, Belt of Strength,
Well Worn Boots, Weal & Woe

Allies: Haro Aven
Enemies: Ronhar Tane

Soundtrack

​

Bolstered by the camaraderie of his buddy and more than a little amped up at the thought of getting behind the yolk again, Naamino Zuukamano made some final preparations.

Setting his helmet down atop one of the wing struts, the young man patted himself down- checking that all aspects of his flight suit were fastened to his liking and wouldn't tug or bunch in a distracting fashion. Naami also mentally steeled himself for the brief bit of public speaking to come. He'd already debriefed them earlier, going over the formal plan, but there was more to leading than just planning. His hand went to the necklace resting against his breastbone, a locket which contained a small lock of hair from Leshanna Dromar .

She had been assigned elsewhere, their parting had been emotional but necessary, and Naamino intended to ensure that both he and Haro made it back to her safely. Her responsibilities under Professor Madrona meant that Leshanna was tasked with a great deal more than just troops. She'd been assigned with tending the greenhouses and laboratories in the neti's prolonged absence— a duty the zabrak knew his girlfriend would see to with fierce diligence.

His fight was tied inexorably to hers, because Imperial forces must not be provided the opportunity to gain a foothold amongst the Holy Worlds. Holding the line here and pushing back their intrusion now was the only acceptable outcome. Naamino huffed out a breath as he tucked the necklace away into his flight suit.

Command was still relatively new to him, at least on such a grand scale. He'd been in charge of platoons of troops, and fought in countless campaigns at that point. This defense of the Holy Worlds though was perhaps his most crucial, high stakes assignment yet. The zabrak now had a squadron under his command, and his buddy Haro was his right-hand man.

Fishing a small tin out of his breast pocket, Naami plucked out a pouch of high grade, long acting stimulant. Deftly, the young man tucked the sachet to one side of his lower lip and stashed the tin away again. Immediately, the ritual had a steadying effect on him and the minty taste of the performance boosting substance began to seep into his bloodstream.

Naamino grinned fiercely over at Aven, giving him a two finger salute to indicate that his pre-flight rituals were complete and he was ready to fly. Without further delay, Naami grabbed his helmet and swung himself up into the interceptor. He ran through pre-fly checks and keyed through various pre-sets on the control panel before him with the ease of someone who'd done it a hundred times before.

"Testing comms, Aven do you copy?"

He moved down the line, calling each squad-mate's last name to ensure functionality before flight. Then the zabrak made sure he also connected to the ghost-link to check in on Lysander von Ascania and crew, who'd made landfall a bit earlier.

"Alright soldiers, all systems go. Each and every one of you know the plan— a few of you have flown with me but most haven't. I've earned command over you but not your trust yet. Stick to formation, listen to your instincts, and I assure you I'll earn your trust before the day is out. If I'm otherwise engaged, Aven is next in command. That's an order."

He paused for effect, finalizing launch procedure.

"Let's go kill some Imps!"

Objective Two
Dogfighting
Piloting: Ragnos-class Interceptor
Commanding 10 other pilots: Ghoul Squad
​

Battlefield poetry rang through the ghost-link and Naamino couldn't help but grin. In their private channel, the zabrak chuckled to Haro.

"Is he out of his mind?"

Before switching back over to the Badawan line. He dropped in right after his second in command finished bantering with the wily blonde.

"Rodger, Battle Bard- payload heading your way. Look lively, and pace yourself for the inevitable encore."

Their squadron circled high per orders while Naami and Haro circled low to deliver the their support for friends on the ground. Highly flammable gel fuel blasted from their ships in sweeping arcs, painting the doomed yet still defended city. They were careful not to strike the tower, nor draw too near to it but the rest of the buildings in the city were fair game. With that low careful sweep they painted two long lines across sections of the city near their companions.

"Right- don't die, have fun, and fething destroy our opposition. Them's the rules and that's an order fellas," Naami barked with clear exhilaration, "Ghoul Squad out. See ya back at base when the party's over."

As they took more fully to the open skies, death and destruction painting the planet below, Naami could see chaos on the near horizon. Not only were there enemy fighters galore, but there appeared to be… an absolutely gargantuan Sithspawn?! He wracked his brain for intel on what he was seeing, mentally running through all the many briefings he'd sat through and military files he'd acquainted himself with.

Nothing in school or training had prepared him for the likes of Garza

Being a soldier sometimes meant doing what seemed impossible. Naami gritted his teeth and barked orders to their squad. Urging them to break into four groupings of three, tightening those formations while giving ample room between for maneuvers. Soon it became apparent to the young Lieutenant that enemy forces were antagonizing the creature and an enemy to his enemies might indeed be useful.

"Looks like we've got company." Haro fired up his laser cannons in preparation.

"Bank starboard!"

His command took them in a wide arc around some of the mayhem, and angled their ships such that they might catch a few of the enemy forces unaware.

"Ghoul Squad engage!"

​

 

[Xeykard]

Hacks | Darth Strosius Drystan Creed | Her Allyson Locke (?) | Narantuyaa Asther | HACK(S) PROGRESS: 0%
​

"Not a word," he warned his companion. They followed in Strosius' wake as he cut through the tower's defenses with practiced ease. Hacks was a professional, but Xeykard had little trust to spare. And yet, she was a necessity -- he doubted a single Sith in the Empire had the expertise necessary to crack the Ore-Dukes' lockdown on the mega-tower.

That his return had come in this way was, perhaps, tragic. He had hoped for the Dark Lord's welcome, that his successes elsewhere would be by an appropriate time well-known enough that he could join the Sith once more in their homeworlds. Instead he followed in the Confederation's wake as they brute-forced their way through the Blackwall. That he arrived with the necessary tool for their particular problem was, in his view, a sufficient stroke of luck, a repayment for his loss.

Thus he safeguarded her as necessary -- were he on his own, he would have followed their guide more closely, but he split his focus, enveloping Hacks in his presence to hide the both of them from detection.

As expected, the other Sith's pace attracted an opponent, who entered with a quip. Xeykard signaled their departure, and they picked another corridor to continue down. Though the tower's active defenses were impressive, the simplest one was the mazelike interior; the subtle curve of the halls threatened to throw off any invader's sense of direction; signage was limited or useless to an outsider. But they forged on, closing closer to the center.

Stairs took them up, then down again, but in time they arrived at a small administrative office. Xeykard was among those Sith without the expertise necessary for this mission -- he deferred to the slicer. "If not this, then this one will continue. Remember what is required -- some things here will be more valuable than others."

 

[Jacen Breska]

OBJ2: RESIST THE PRETENDERS

​

WEARING:: Halcyon Armour | Contact Lenses | Wrist Mounted APG | Ancile Shield |
EQUIPMENT: MAIN WEAPONRY: | DC-902d | Sunshot Pistol | Shiva Knife |
ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: 3x Thermal Detonators | 2x Kushute Grenades | 3x Incendiary
LOCATION: :: Brosi - Downed DeathDrop Dropship ::
TAG: Saltare Dothon

Jacen immediately brought his DC-902d to bear, firing a quick burst of standard blaster shots down range as his team cleared the downed ship. Blackout 2 helped Blackout 4 from the ship as 3 joined Jacen in providing whatever covering fire they could.

"Here's a quick stim," 2 said as he jabbed a needle into 4s arm, "Won't heal the break, but you'll be able to fight."

4 grimaced in pain, then nodded and drew his sidearm, "I'll do what I can."
The pair took cover behind their own piece of destroyed ship, and began to engage the incoming Pretenders, firing their weapons towards the halted vehicle.

Jacen was about to switch his weapon mode to particles, when his HUD alerted him of incoming thermal detonators heading for the remains of the ship.

Immediately, his thought went to Talk-Box's body, and he roared out in anger, "NO!"
"Jacen, stop!" Blackout 3 put his arm on Jacen, holding him back. His HUD also picked up the incoming grenades, and he pulled Jacen back, "Blackout, get away!" he roared and moved away, Jacen reluctantly followed and the rest of the team scrambled as well.

The ship shuddered as the detonators struck it, the explosion rippling through the damaged hull before the ship's internal systems exploded as well, turning the ship into a fireball and sending shrapnel flying outward.

The Explosion shockwave sent Jacen to the ground, and the shrapnel flared his shields as he covered. The rest of his team hit the ground, trying to hide behind any cover they could as the Pretenders sighted their new targets.

Jacen looked back at the flaming husk of his ship, "NO! SUZE!"

"She's GONE Jacen! Get your HEAD IN THE GAME!"

Jacen turned back, sneering under his helmet. "SHIT!" He slammed his fist into the dirt, then ducked as a blast came over his head, "You're dead, bastards!" He snarled, scrambling forward behind a small burr as he examined the surroundings. He squinted as he saw a crackle of a cloaking field on the vehicle, and caught a bit of a dust trail behind it. One, or more, of those vehicles were continuing and leaving this one to deal with them. "Sith's blood." He muttered, and keyed his comm,

"Mayday mayday mayday, this is Team Blackout, we've been shot down off course and we're under heavy fire! On my position, we've got cloaked enemy transports moving to flank, repeat, cloaked vehicles moving to flank on my position! Mayday mayday mayday!"

Jacen looked around, there was no cover between them and the vehicle, not now the ship was destroyed.

"Kushutes, now!" He yelled at his team and pulled a Kushute grenade from his belt, "Wall setting!" He said, scrolling a wheel on the grenade, then primed and threw it in between the two teams' positions. The grenade exploded into a liquid metal sludge that formed a wall before hardening. It wouldn't take much damage, but it'd buy time to get closer.

"Close the gap, force them off their vehicle! Thermals!"
He got up and sprinted towards the new wall, pulling a thermal from his belt and priming it, "See how you like it you pricks!" He yelled as he threw the grenade, using the momentum of the motion of throwing to dive forward into a roll, slamming into the back of the kushute wall and taking cover as the rest of Blackout, minus 4 who was staying close to 2, did the same.


​

 

[Lunaria Talon]

Location: Shoengen, Brosi [En Route to Delta-2]
Objective: Objective II - Seize the Means of Production!
Goals: Subterranean Ore Mines Beneath Processing Plant Delta-2
Tags: Soldane Talon | Matteo Guo-Yian | The Lord of Hunger

_________________________​

You will get used to it, I promise."

"Liar."​

​

Her response was soft, not bitter, but with a faint tease that seemed designed to detract from their current predicament. She was trying to do the best she could to adjust, but she just barely managed not to be sick all over again when Matteo helped her with her gear. Her friend asked if she was ready to go, and she nodded her head, checking her rebreather again, because the last thing she wanted to do was pass out on Brosi…And wake up not just DEAD but a zombie.​

​

As if death itself couldn't get any worse.​

​

"Yeah…I'm good.", Artemis lied the entirety of her ass off, but it couldn't be helped. She couldn't stop now…No matter what happened. They had to follow the directives from Haru ( Darth Carnifex ) to see what it was that called out to the Order from beneath Delta-2. Metallic orbs turned toward Soldane Talon , who seemed to be lost in a world all his own. Her expression softened while her gloved hand passed over his shoulder. "Join us when you're ready, brother."​

​

He had so much weight on his shoulders.​

​

Luna felt…Powerless to help him. He loved her in his own way, she never doubted that, but it was almost like he saw things between shadows that she couldn't. Regardless…He would be able to follow the bond of their birth across the universe if he saw fit. The one thing she never feared losing, was him. Her expression shifted when she let him go into something that resembled determination and she lined up to join Matteo at the exit, trying hard, to stay out of the way of Sith troops.​

​

They all had their mission—No one would risk it in favor of paying attention to a few Academy brats.​

​

That was part of the plan. They were…Unimportant. They wouldn't be noticed when they slipped away because they weren't powerful enough to matter. The way eventually cleared and Artemis stepped out of the safety of the Drop Ship and onto Brosian soil for the first time. She nearly filled her rebreather with vomit while the smell of something rancid filled her nose and threatened to choke her. "We should have worn…Full armor. Helmets. By the stars—", she cut herself off to keep from emptying the contents of her stomach. How could everyone else stand it?​

​

It was only the noise of scattered artillery in the distance that gave her the ability to focus on something else. The threat of imminent death and destruction was a powerful motivation. She pulled a data pad off her belt and glanced down at it for a long moment to try and pick up the signal. It seemed to grow fainter with every hour that passed, perhaps, whatever the mining had awakened was running out of power. It was old and encrypted in a way that felt intentional…Buried for someone that was clever enough to seek it out. Or foolish enough.​

​

The pale Echani didn't think she was either of those things, but, she was stubborn.​

​

That would have to be good enough.​

​

"It looks like it's this direction, Tea-yo."​

​

Through a scorched and burned-out forest that…Hardly stood on its own. That was their path to Shoengen. There were TIE fighters blazing overhead and shooting at anything that moved. They could use the distraction of the other Sith combatants moving forward as cover to get to the tree-line and do their best to disappear. They'd practiced, Luna likely more than Matteo, on keeping their Force signatures clouded…But that wasn't the only way to be tracked.​

​

It was what she couldn't prepare for that made her stomach drop to her toes.​

​

Regardless, when the time came, she darted forward like a swift and flightless bird to momentarily escape the chaos whilst chancing a glance at the battle that was just beginning to heat up. A chill ran down her spine while something set off warning bells in the back of her mind. "What…What is that…", she murmured, ducking low, to see the literal undead ( Spirit of Korriban ) moving toward imperial forces ( Augustus Von Strauss ) in a staggering crowd that made her skin crawl.​

​

"We can't get trapped in that. We'll never make it to Delta-2 in time…"​

​

The youngling with white-gold hair didn't want to admit that her stomach was still churning and that watery mouth feel was back again. It took her several moments to realize that these weren't simple reanimated victims of the plague, but Jen'ari, that were historically belonged to the undead army of Korriban. They'd read all about them, and other shadow units, about a year ago.​

​

Her eyes went wide. She'd read about them…But Luna never thought she'd actually get to see them.​

​

She reached out and took the hand of Matteo Guo-Yian to pull him on a path, hopefully, around the monsters that she would be seeing in her nightmares. The student wisely wanted to steer clear just in case they couldn't differentiate friend from foe. It wasn't worth the risk.​

​

Instead, they moved in a curving path…Unaware that they were walking from one terrifying situation into another. She could feel something up ahead (x) that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, but that something, didn't yet disturb her more than the Jen'ari. The whole planet seemed to be saturated in dark side energies…It would be difficult to know what was natural and what was dangerous until it started shooting at them. "We're about 1700 meters off…Give or take."​

​

"We can make that. We've done relays that are longer…", her words were breathless, barely there, while she waited for some of the undead to pass by behind a tree. When one got too close she pulled Matteo closer. They really, couldn't be seen.​

​

Not now, not ever.​

​

Or…This war would eat them alive.​

​

Literally.​

 

[Onrai]

Objective 1
Tag: Open

The ethereal form continued to worm its way through the tower. A stealthy shadow, the animate shade held no tangibility to it in this form and this was able to penetrate ever deeper towards the mega-tower's core computer systems. The dusklike essence slid through the gaps of closed doors before it stealthily slid beneath the animate screen of a console. Abominable Anti-Force energy comingled with the base circuitry of the tower, tapping into the mere modicum of data contained within the derelict construct. The limited automated security seeking to keep viruses out of even base-level systems was unprepared, easily defeated by the abomination as she hunted through the few files in its archive that required no effort to access.

Yes, there it was. A map of the facility, a means of giving the blasphemous wraith an advantage in its own abominable state in permeating the data-troves and archives within the mega-tower's depths. If anyone was to access the tower's base systems, not that it was likely given they were locked down, the access time and UNKNOWN security clearance level would suggest that something was afoot.

Nothing had yet interfered in Onrai's attempt to infiltrate the mega-tower, but it became more evident what would be needed to resolve the situation in the Empire's favor - she now knew where the mega-tower's core security mainframe was located. If she was able to access it, to interface with the computer and pollute it with her ethereal essence, she could bypass whatever was turning the tower into a deathtrap against friend and foe alike. So it was that the shadow oozed like a pudding from the static-screened console, further slithering and serpentining through the facility.

There was one thing she still needed, but hopefully she could yet receive that soon enough.

-

Objective 3
Tag: Selrik Lorcas

A comms notification. The Ablution was running silent, its drives yet ready to act in the event the warship was leapt upon by a Sith fleet or even a single battlecruiser, and she knew that whoever was reaching out to her as she sought to handle the wider struggles of the battlefield had to be a fellow Imperial. The ship's comms opened as a faded shade responded, a wispy image that seemed to be not much more than a fickle hologram of the governess herself.

“Grand Moff Lorcas to Governor Vantai. I have an unorthodox request, but is there any means at your disposal to dealing with these Sithspawn on the battlefield? Particularly the larger ones? If so, now would be a good time for it.”

"You should begin seeing good news soon." The flickering shade said as the main manifestation of the former mortal further strained itself within the Ablution's meditative chamber. The answer was cryptic, and she knew the Grand Moff likely deserved much more than that, but the mind that had previously only understood the concept of being present in one place at a time was straining itself, fragmented in presence across multiple manifestations. An easy trick for something as ethereal as Splendid Ap, but not for a being who had been born into the material universe, whose potential was expanded well beyond what she was supposed to experience.

Or endure.

The presence continued to reach out. It grew stronger as it began to make planetfall. It was a primal hunger, the sense of a being whose very existence depended on the grand feast before it. And yet this was no mass butchery - this was a selective cull, aiding of her allies at the diminishment of her enemies. The ritual was at a critical moment, the form of Vanessa prostrated forward upon her knees, hands pointed towards the prow of the Ablution, towards Brosi itself. The ship had been aligned in such a way deliberately, and while the meditation chamber was the focal point of Onrai's concentration, the focus of the great mass of Anti-Force energy she controlled was the tiny speck in the distance, almost no different from the stars that yet surrounded it.

There it was, a fruit ripe for the harvest.

-

Objective 2
Tag: Saltare Dothon

Though some of the Sith soldiery was yet slaughtered by the enemy fire, their ascent into puppets of the foul ritual enacted on the world, the trap laid for the Imperials, yet sought to keep them active in the fight. The revenants rose, mindless undead yet seeking to consume the flesh of the assaulted Imperials. Words became insensate growls. Where once a soul had been placed, now only the anima of the Dark Side kept the deadly draugr functional on the battlefield in the limited form it now possessed.

Until it didn't.

It was a simple motion. Where the being had once showcased the signs of unlife, it seized, every freshly dead muscle unnaturally tensed in its body before the cadaver fell backwards, scooped free of its energy. The undead troopers next to it soon followed suit, their broken bodies left to lie on the polluted world as something blasphemous wept from their flesh. It was a parasite most foul, the rites of Vanessa's maddened obsessions with the Anti-Force made manifest, a primal consumption of Anti-Force energy that grew stronger as it devoured the darkness from the undead.

It wasn't only Saltare who would witness this either, of course. Across the battlefield, the hopeless Imperials overcome by the masses of arisen carcasses - and perhaps the Sith who sought to use them - would begin to witness the foul horde slowly, but with ever increasing rapidity, begin to fall and falter. With each passing second now that the Anti-Force entity's hunger was yet unleashed upon the world, the blasphemous Dark Side energy being channeled across Brosi was being nibbled, then eaten, and potentially soon gorged on. Every undead animated by the Sith's foul magics that fell prey to the wave of predatory pernition only further increased the process, as though it were a perpetuation of fusion at the heart of a star, each broken husk further continuing the reaction. The darkness of the world itself was under attack. For those who yet did not touch the Dark Side, or the Force itself, this was their only chance to equalize the equation. Soon enough, the Sith would see something was wrong with the product of their rites.

And the malignant being behind the corrosion yet waited for their reaction.

Attn: Aspect of Defiance Darth Caedes

 

[Tamsin Graves]

OBJECTIVE III
// CALLSIGN: Ronin-2 //​

Location: Brosi, Orbit
Theme: Highway to Hell
Wearing: Space Suit
Flying: 'Dûr'ashaarai' Starfighter
Tag: Bella | Kaila Irons | Elmindra Xitaar

The sting of cooper on the tongue, smell of tortured flesh mixed with hints on lavender in the air, and the dead silence to ear but the mind was whirling with rage of the machine. Another voice in the already crowded mind, the machine spitting its musings of hatred. The Demon poking at the fires burning with its jabs at every weakness it could see. The sorceress screaming at them all to shut up. Behind them a meek voice spoke out into the noise filled void of the mind.

"Silence!"

The voices in the mind hushed as the meek voice broke through them like a growing earthquake. Tamsin was the master of this domain none of them and they need to learn that. As the voice quieted for the moment the dominating presence opened her eyes, and they flashed a bright glowing fiery orange. Her sights staring straight forward inside the cockpit of her the black and red beast that she could feel like an extension of herself.

It felt like a second skin wrapped around her body and for once in Tamsin's life she felt large and seen. She could feel the mechanical machinations as if they were apart of her and with simple thought, she could get parts of it move. It was a whole different dimension being, being in her ship even if it wanted to consume anything and everything around but in reality, that wasn't different than the demon in her. The Demon that weather she wanted to admit or not was in some way apart of her or who she might be one day.

Her dream like state was broken through by comms flickering to life.

"Comms are a go Ronin-1. Oh, you know, just another angry voice screaming in my head nothing I can't handle." She said a hint of mirth in her voice.

It could have been worse in truth, at least cyber port in the back of her neck was more comfortable, as it was one, she had crafted for herself. Well not exactly true it was a device the Demon had led her too and she had modified it for herself. Still, it gave her more freedom than the standard model that came with these ships.

It was then they got their go ahead and as Ronin-1 told her to form up on them, Tamsin ship moved smoothly into a position behind her sister Kaila Irons .

"Contact, three bandits approaching friendly freighter."

"Copy, I am getting them on sensors now Ronin-3."

As the ships came up on her sensors her targeting systems started to try to gain target locks as her Mini Perses Turbolasers began warming up in anti-shield mode. Still behind Ronin-1 she came up slightly in plane rising just up over the Ronin-1's rear so she wouldn't fire into her sister's ship when she had lock.

The beast that was her ship hungered as it searched for targets it wanted to consume them as quickly as possible, and Tamsin could feel its rage and hunger sending a shiver down her spine. It wasn't like she hadn't felt it before but there were too presences in her who just wanted to feed off the annihilation of all things it was almost overpowering.

​

 

[Hacks]

| Xeykard - Darth Strosius - Drystan Creed - Her - Allyson Locke - Narantuyaa Asther |
​

"Not a word," Xeykard warned calmly. Not a word? Hacks thought with incredulity. She felt like her head was about to explode. She looked down the hallway, flashing emergency lights illuminated prone, quiet figures in crimson, some lay sprawled on the floor, others slumped against the wall. She scanned their corpses, thin trails of smoke still rising from blaster wounds where the towers automated defenses had turned on their own, like pigs to the slaughter. Hacks had almost been mince-meat herself when she rounded the corner, but she was quicker than their targetting programs.

She held her F80 MacroPad in her lower arms, while her upper arms furiously typed on the keyboard. It was silent here, but for the patter of her mechanical keys. A furious rhythm that matched her anxiety. Plastic eyes darted around the hall, then into an open door and peered beyond to the window. Somewhere distantly she heard the thunderous roar of some great beast, only made worse by the knowledge of the endless legion of undead that roamed the wasteland that was this world.

This was unlike any job she had taken, she didn't deal with Sith or Jedi, she didn't know anything about the Force. She could deal with suits and trigger-happy cutthroats, but this was different. "One job, that's it, I'm never doing this again," she told herself, her mind connected with local system controls and she willed the door shut. Her AJ brain implant allowing her to connect with local networks by thought alone, interlacing the digital with her neural matrix. What couldn't be achieved by her AJ, her F80 and some coding could do the rest.

The hissing of lightsabers rang out nearby, followed by the clash of plasma. She felt the need to run a hand over her holsters in her techjacket, to make sure they were there, but she didn't have the time to soothe herself. She glanced up from her MacroPad to Xeykard and followed his lead. Xeykard seemed to be lost, his head turning left and right, eyes searching for meaning in the maze. Hacks was already on it, mapping out their path through the interior. She couldn't predict where they would end up next, but she would make sure their exit was swift.

The pair arrived in an administration office, Hacks moved left of Xeykard and walked towards a desk nearby a server. Xeykard spoke up, "If not this, then this one will continue. Remember what is required -- some things here will be more valuable than others." Hacks glanced around, the room was empty, quiet, workers had left in a rush. Her eyes scanned for a moment and she pinged the climate controls, lowering the temperature of the room to the conditions minimum. Then at once, all the doors shut and locked, then lastly she switched off the lighting. "I can work with this, but we may need to move if someone begins a trace," Hacks said, "That is if my Cerberus program doesn't fry their tech."

An orange glow from her MacroPad illuminated her face as she plugged the device into the local server. The MacroPad pinged when the connection was secure. She reached out to the Pad and retrieved a thin cord that she brought to the base of her skull, plugging directly into her AJ unit. She sat down in an office chair, looked to Xeykard and said, "Shake me if there's danger." Then her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she went limp.

Suddenly, her mind was in an ocean of data.

 

[Naedira Darcrath]

Location: Mega Tower [Service Tunnel]
Objective: Objective I - Storm the Tower!
Tags: Aerik Lechner | [OPEN]
Goals: Sabotage Imperial Forces

________________​

She wanted to laugh…Instead, a knowing smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth a she continued through the service tunnel. A crack in a corroded support beam caught her eye, and one gloved hand pressed against it. It was fresh. Whatever had caused it had happened recently, perhaps, with the release of the creature ( Garza ) from project Titanfall. It didn't matter where he fell in Shoengen…Everyone, everywhere, ought to feel the impact.

Hear the war cry, the roar, that made bones shake so hard they broke.

It wasn't outside the pale that the reverberations from the Lord of Dragons hitting his LZ might wreck the structural integrity of the buildings within a certain radius. Naedira was deeply concerned, and it was expressed in a delicate frown from behind her mask. "We'll need to keep an eye out for more of these fissures…The last thing we want are service tunnels caving in on top of us."

Her ever-watchful gaze flicked toward her son when he compared her husband to the foul air. She should have scolded him, but it was too accurate not to warrant some level of amusement, even if it wasn't quite THIS bad.

"Remind me to buy your father stronger cologne."

The teasing fell away just as quickly as it had surfaced. They didn't have time to be sentimental or witty. Instead, she watched Aerik move with his unshaped confidence and a telltale swagger. He was all edges and emotion, too young to realize just how visible his eagerness made him. Her boy had plenty of potential, but there were too many lessons he had yet to learn.

He certainly wouldn't get it on Jutrand…It couldn't be taught in a controlled environment. These were lessons that required blood in the dirt and a heartbeat raging in his fangs. Naedira nodded her head when he asked to handle the next relay, and the statuesque she-wolf passed him the device. It was a creative little tool. Anyone who accessed these databases without the proper credentials could trigger a silent download that contained a few different viruses. This new one was not a bomb, but a form of ransomware.

If the Imperials wanted this data so badly.

They could have it…For a price.

"Not yet. We have explosives if we need them…But we're not making noise unless we must. The tower is full of Sith, and with the Titan on the ground… Ordinance would be unstable. We could kill more of our people than the enemy…"

She explained rather than belittling. It wasn't a terrible idea…But he needed to decide if it was worth the carnage before acting. Naedira wouldn't always be beside him, one way or the other, to make sure he didn't blow himself to pieces. Explosions were flashy and got a lot of attention…But that didn't mean it was the best way through a problem. "You don't need to prove yourself to me, Aerik."

"I see you."

War did not favor the bold. It rewarded the patient, the crafty, the intelligent—

—And the threat they never saw coming.

 

[Drystan Creed]

OBJECTIVE 1

Spoiler: Disguise

Teenager? Drystan couldn't help the smile that formed beneath his helmet—looked like his cover was working. All he had to do now was keep up the charade for the duration of the fight. Aside from his undercover work, he had the additional task of collecting information on both the Imperials and the Sith. Given the current situation, some combat data would suffice.

"Justice will not be obstructed by the notions of mercy."

He activated his helmet's camera—now recording, collecting footage for later analysis. Taking on an exaggerated fighting stance, he bent his knees outward, both palms open and bladed. His left arm extended forward while the right remained drawn back.

"The solar winds of the Thandon Star Cluster cry out for vengeance!"

The distance between him and his foe was farther than he'd have liked—not the up-close start he preferred. But that could be remedied.

Immediately, he gathered the Force in his right palm and released it with a punch—a telekinetic burst of air hurtling toward Strosius, warping the metal floor in its wake. Drystan followed close behind his own attack, hand reaching for the hilt of his sword. Crimson energy surged along the songsteel blade as he drew it, red lightning arcing across the weapon's surface. The ancient, retrofitted sword hummed as its vibrocells activated, vibrating at a high frequency for enhanced cutting.

He kept the blade low at his side as he closed the distance, deliberately holding back from an immediate follow-up to gauge Strosius's reaction. This was as much an information-gathering exercise as it was a fight—and the more he could draw out of his opponent, the better.

Darth Strosius

 

[Braith Achlys]

Objective: 1 (Storm the Tower)
Allies: The Sith Order
Enemies: The Imperial Confederation
Directly Interacting: Brent Warnel + Darth Virelia
Equipment: Golden Carapace (Armor) | Braith's Spear | Braith's Saberstaff

Playing with Flames

'Want?'

The word repeated itself like an echo as a thought from the back of her mind phrased like a question, completely unaware who this person was to even begin to assume they knew her enough to believe they had a grasp on why she was here. In the past she'd been a blunt instrument, a hammer used to bludgeon upstarts and seasoned fighters all the same without any regard for finesse or glamor, but that was before her sudden motherhood - she couldn't throw herself into a crowd anymore without a care for her own well-being when there was a family that had relied on her coming home the next day. The man, to his credit, seemed to offer up a relatively decent point to her own missed expectations, not that he'd quite gotten the point of what she'd been getting to by bringing up appearances.

"I wouldn't lecture strangers on purpose." She said dryly, moving her hand from her hip to take her spear from her left and into her right as she addressed Darth Virelia . Turning her head towards Brent Warnel in order to give him a proper appraisal, violet eyes searching him from head to foot and back again, Braith seemed only slightly bothered by the situation she'd inserted herself into. "I thought I'd found two enemies here, instead I've found one sellsword and a quilted mess of the dark side and mortal flesh." She mused, stepping off towards the side in order to keep the two of them in view in a rather relaxed, if deliberately so, stride that suggested she wasn't concerned with either time or the two of them. "I have no titles I care for, but you will know me as Braith Achlys." She offered as she glanced up towards the tip of her spear, the orbalisks that clung to her shifting this way and that in immediate discomfort as they were reminded of the name of their mistress.

There wasn't much terrain inside of the tower for her to use as a weapon, one of the many reasons she disliked assailing structures like these that could have just as easily been blown into pieces from orbit - she didn't quite see the point the Sith had in taking the structure back, or defending this lump of clay and decay, when they could've denied the enemy of their prize instead, but then she wasn't the strategist they'd known from her later years. She didn't see a need to put on any kind of showy display with the rest of the environment she had at her disposal, though, so she decided she would restrain herself just a tad for now. "I deigned to join this play of violence because my daughter is currently indisposed, but the only thing I am here for is plunging my spear into the chest of as many have aligned themselves with the Confederation as there is time for in the rest of the day." She said while she lifted up the weapon she'd spoken of off the ground in her small, clenched, fist. "So, unless you can direct me to bigger fish, I think I'll start here."

"I'll spare you ten seconds if you intend to run."

 

[Sophia of House Marr]

​

​

Ally Tag: [SO] + Horus Rhyne
Enemy Tag: [TIC] - Not Engaging Yet [OPEN]
Location: Brosi [At some kind of...Refinery?]
Objective: Objective III - BYOO [Subject to change pending opposition]

| Robes | - | Red Lightsaber | - | Cool Whip | - | Enviro-Shield Generator |
___________

Quote of the Moment:
"...Well...You need the villain. If you don't have one...The good guy can just stay home."
___________​

The little princess had the sheer AUDACITY to roll her eyes even while she was wrapped up in the arms of a self-professed Crime Lord who could have stabbed her in the back at any time. Crimson lips pulled into a smirk that was ten kinds of venom and velvet. "Oh, how convenient…", she spoke rather dryly, even though her tone was edged with amusement.

"Selective amnesia…Must be nice. But sure, let's pretend I'm the first woman you've ever flirted with."

It had been a smooth enough response that it did soothe some of her ruffled feathers, whether it was true or false. Her fingers toyed with the lapel of his shirt, before giving it a light, unnecessary adjustment. As if prepping him for a prancy fancy party instead of an impending firefight…As if she didn't hear the telltale sounds of explosions in the distance. "You're lucky I find you charming."

Sophia leaned into the kiss he pressed to her head, but crimson eyes fell on the equally red skyline, noting that there was a glimmer of shielding in the distance. Lavender eyelids fell over piercing ruby orbs, and dusky lashes brushed against perfect cheeks while the building tension let her look a little closer. There was the presence of something beautifully grotesque that crawled beneath the surface…This planet was drawing scavengers, like flies.

Horus mentioned business, and her smile turned sharp with a snicker that was entirely out of place.

What kind of sane person could laugh at a time like this?

"I'm already in your business...You just haven't figured out which part yet…" , Sophia teased, while her head tilted up with theatrical innocence. She brushed her lips against his chin before curling close for just a moment longer. The truth was…She had been watching. Not just this refinery on Brosi…All of it. The way he sidestepped Sith politicking while profiting handsomely from war. The way he pretended to "listen" and "obey the law" while doing precisely what he pleased. It was a dance they both knew the steps to

…But he was the only one who could turn it into a profit.

The raven-haired Sith Knight released a heavy sigh before slowly disentangling herself. He was right…She knew he was, or she wouldn't have given in so easily to the thought of preparing to fight. "Armor it is…", she agreed at last, stepping back from him fully with the grace of a little aristocrat, brushing imaginary dust from the front of her coat. The transport they'd taken wasn't too far, and the cache of gear she'd brought was located within. "Come on, love."

Sophia held her hand out to Horus expectantly, expecting him to take it.

He certainly couldn't expect her to walk alone.

Still.

She didn't get WHY they couldn't just orbitally bombard Brosi until it was...Nothing. Less, than nothing. Wasn't that the smart play?

But as previously noted?

Sophia wasn't a geologist.

 

[Spencer Varanin]

//: Onrai //:
//: Srina Talon //: Revna Marr //: Darth Caedes //: Madrona A’Mia //:
//: Objective 3 //:
//: Brosi -> The Ablution //:
//: Attire //:

---

She had already given the galaxy everything she had. There was no more for the woman to give, nothing they needed from her, and all she desired was to rest. Unlike Ashin, Spencer was content to watch from afar.

She was the Mother. One who watched afar, cultivating the lives of her children, protecting them, and giving them the unconditional love that only a mother can provide. She was distant, but radiated the warmth the galaxy of her children needed. Never were any of her children alone.

All it took was one call. One cry from the depths of the darkest corner of the galaxy, and she would come.

Brosi.​

Rituals, Alchemy, and Witchcraft, all woven together by the living Force that made existence possible. The river of energy and creation that flowed over every being that existed in the galaxy. To be without the Force was to be disconnected, lost, but still life would persist.

It was easy to find the gateway; this child was favored among many. She had proven herself to be something more — a blessing to the galaxy.

Spencer remembered meeting the young Talon, learning of her journey, and foreseeing only greatness in the woman. A kinship formed, one that would come to fruition the moment the Mother's own needed protection that neither she nor Ashin could provide.

Srina was her precious child, her connection to this realm.

Through the woman's shadow, a path would show. Quietly, as those gathered for the ritual, shadows would stretch and fade as she searched for her. Piercing eyes aflame would peer through the shadows, searching, watching, and wanting. Once she was found, a shadowed hand would pull away from flesh, reaching, caressing their tender connection.

Shadow grasped and folded as those who looked upon the Empress's face would see a flickering image of another. It was a face that the galaxy rarely saw in person, as she remained only a memory of history long passed.

As if separating, the ethereal shape of the former Queen of Eshan, the First Apprentice of Darth Desimus, the once forsaken Chosen One of the 8th Empire.

Darth Elita.​

Spencer stepped through the shadows, taking shape, and the weight of her presence echoed in the Force. Her hand would leave Srina's after a light squeeze, a gesture so natural and fluid it was unnoticeable unless one watched closely.

After a few moments, the blonde Echani would look to the sky, and then from the corner of her gaze would acknowledge her beloved child.

"Thank you, my dear." Her sweet, timbre voice echoed gently above the chaos that seemed to fall silent around them. Looking away, Spencer took in what they were doing and felt the dark nexus that lingered in the vicinity.

Carefully, she drew upon its power, and then her eyes lingered back to Srina.

"I'm sure you all felt it." Her face never left the direction of the sky, but her eyes soon followed. "I'm bored. Take care of things here."

As she spoke, her lips curled into a grin that only a few had seen. Spencer had felt the force scream as whatever was happening on the edge of the system began to formulate.

"Oh, if Ashin Cardé Varanin shows up, tell her she's late."

In that instant, time felt as if it was stretching and bending at the will of the woman. A path rippled through the Force, allowing the woman to take a step forward. She was gone, and through the Force, a rippling quake could be felt.

In the same breath, the Force ripped a gateway to the anchor that was Onrai. Spencer exhaled and, without announcing herself, she reached into the Force into everything that made the woman who she was.

The Phobis Core that she had consumed during the Dark Harvest event over Polis Massa bled, reaching through the space, spilling its horrifying essence into the meditation chamber.

"Come out wherever you are…" Spencer almost sang as she stepped forward. Gathering every ounce of the Dark side she could, her hatred consumed as the woman, or what was left of her, shouted into the Force.

Onrai had moments to react as Spencer's grin widened, as deep copper eyes burned with the power she began to consume.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

BROSI || RUINED OBSERVATION POST
TAGS || Eurydice, OPEN
​

"You think we will gain anything by taking the field?"

The question was asked without a hint of malice. In truth, this was a teaching exercise for an Apprentice unfamiliar with the ancient and often brutal methods of the Sith.

"Why would we expend ourselves defending our rivals? Our goal is domination, to be the undisputed masters of the Dark Side, and that is not possible while we yet have challengers."

Nefaron paused, his gaze drifting out to the battlefield once more as he watched a fresh stream of orbital debris rain down. Perhaps a cruiser? What a beautiful sight it was to watch such death unfold without his intervention. The natural cruelty of the universe would never stop being fascinating to the Corpse Lord.

"Let them fight. Let them die. Let their worlds be reduced to rubble. All to serve our greater goals."

This was perhaps the most important lesson she would ever learn, one many of the Corpse Lords' colleagues had seemingly forgotten. There was no room for compassion amongst the Sith, for self-determination was their ultimate goal. Why allow yourself to be dragged down by those too weak to protect themselves? Why pretend to feel love for other beings when, in truth, there was only room in one's heart for pride? In the end, Darth Nefaron truly cared for only one being in the entire galaxy;

Himself.

This was the way of the Sith. This was the only doctrine worth following. ​

"Your power is growing, Apprentice. You have been resistant to the darkness that lirks within your heart, but soon enough you will come to understand that the feelings of disgust and horror are to be embraced, not shunned."

From behind the pair, the trooper restrianed to the chair was beginning to stir. Nefaron turned to watch as the man's consciousness returned.

"It's sad. This man will die regardless of what we do, for he is already infected with the blight that has claimed this world. But this provides an opportunity for us to explore his mind, to see what makes him tick."

Nefaron circled the man and stood behind him, hands planted on his shoulders.

"You will be the first thing he lays eyes on. I find that subjects tend to shut down a bit faster when it is my face they are greeted with."

The Corpse Lord let out a dark chuckle as he readied the injection gauntlet on his right hand, three needles pointed toward the man's neck, but not quite breaking the skin.

"Your power can be used to kill, and that will continue to be the case. But it can also be useful for delving into the minds of those uninitiated in our arts. No doubt this man is indoctrinated into the beliefs of a dead Empire, to the idea of obedience and blind loyalty to a state that will always use him as a tool. I want you to see beyond that, to find out what this man loves, what he hates-"

Nefaron took great pleasure in his final command.

"-What he fears. That fear will make him ours." ​

 

[Aerik Lechner]

LOCATION: Mega Tower [Service Tunnel]
OBJECTIVE: Storm the Tower
GOALS: SABOTAGE!
TAG: Naedira Darcrath | Open

The fissure split the air with a sharp crack, and Aerik flinched, clamping a hand over his ear. The noise hit like a vibrohammer against his sensitive hearing. No one had prepared him for this—the sheer chaos of war pounding through every nerve. The Academy hadn’t helped. Sure, it gave him room to practice, but no amount of drills could replicate this. The screams, the explosions, the grinding collapse of duracrete above them… it was overwhelming.

“Focus.”

He muttered it under his breath, praying his mother didn’t catch it.

“Collapsing building falling on us, that would be bad,” he added, tone dry and matter-of-fact.

A lesson from his childhood resurfaced in the moment: There’s a time for that attitude, and a time to bury it.

This mission wasn’t a game. It wasn’t training. It was the real thing, and Aerik wasn’t as calm or as still as his mother.

She was all grace in chaos, a dancer weaving through storms. He knew there was a predator under her skin. The she-wolf. The one people underestimated right before they died. Naedira was experienced in combat.

That’s why he listened when she said rigging the terminal to explode was a bad idea.

He gave a tight nod.

This wasn’t a hunt… no, it was a hunt. They were lying in wait, ready to punish anyone who dared steal from the Sith. Aerik liked the plan. He liked the tech Naedira had secured for them. It was sleek, silent, and lethal. Stealth suited him, but his size made it a challenge. Shadows didn’t usually come this large. Still, this was his first real mission with her. Even his father had kept his distance when it came to this kind of work. Aerik didn’t just want to impress, he needed to.

“You don’t need to prove yourself to me, Aerik. I see you.”

“I know you do.” His reply came softer. “That’s why I want you to see what I’ve learned.”

He’d never admit that to anyone else, but the bond between them, the bond between mother and son, drew it out. His father never had that as a child, not fully. Aerik wouldn’t trade this for anything. They were a family in motion. Predators working the dark together.

He crouched near the next circuit panel, recalling the steps Naedira had drilled into him. Wire to wire, color to color, then drive the spike. He wasn’t a slicer. The Academy hadn’t taught this. He was learning it here, in real time, with her watching over his shoulder—not hovering, just close enough to catch a mistake. He didn’t mind.

“Red to red… match the colors, then drive the spike.”

He whispered each word like a mantra until the final click of metal against metal told him it was set. The panel sealed with a snap. Aerik’s grin flashed wolfish in the gloom.

“Two down. How many more?”

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

The ceiling trembled, dust cascading like ashfall. The sound hammered against his ears, low and rhythmic like drums of war above them.

“Do you hear that?” he asked, his voice tight.

Aerik’s hand flew to his ear again as he turned to Naedira.

“I haven’t learned to filter it out yet,” he admitted. “I’m hearing everything.”

 

[PT-45 "COWL"]

Finally. His HUD picked up on the two threats emerging. Sith, most likely. At least one of them had a lightsaber.

His first instinct was to raise his rifle and fire at them, but they were moving so quickly that he couldn’t keep up with them, even with his quick, honed reflexes. They were getting closer, blades ready for close quarters combat, and he decided the best thing he could do was abandon the idea of keeping them at a distance, which wasn’t hard because he preferred to be in close quarters combat with them rather than fighting at range where they could do things to him that he couldn’t counter.

There was some interesting twinkle of light around the one in the robes. Perhaps they were using the Force to manipulate their appearance? That wouldn’t work on him, between his ability to see outside of the normal wavelengths. It was most effective on the naked eye, or those without advanced optical system. And if he employed a version that relied on subtle mind tricks, well, those would find interference when attempting to affect him by nature of his armor. Suffice to say, he was aware they were there, but that didn’t give the attacker a disadvantage, nor did it advantage him. It was still two of them against one of him, after all.

Slinging his weapon back over his shoulder, he quickly grabbed up his Voidpike. They were closing with his position, but he showed no outward signs of being worried about that. All he did was allow his feet to shift into a position aligned with a defensive response. They were coming with the initial attack and he was aiming to start by defending himself.

When the two entered within ten feet of him, as the feline one certainly did, they would encounter a field of disturbed Force. It didn’t feel like they normally felt. A sort of passive turbulence that made their connection to the Force fluctuate in a manner that would make it more difficult for them to openly use it, or to rely on it for guidance to their actions. Might seem cheap, but he wasn’t inclined to care. These people had a clear advantage over him and it made sense for him to find a way to nullify that advantage. Not that he’d found it, the engineers had, but he was more than happy to utilize it.

As a lightsaber came for his knee, he stepped forward and crouched a little so it would collide with the armor on his upper leg, rather than the joint. At the same time, he swung the voidpike, aiming to hit the girl in the side with enough force that it could shatter the densest of metals, let alone bones. His eyes quickly turned back to the other, though, as he swung at her, anticipating a counter from the slower of the pair.

OUTFIT: LINK | GEAR: Staff, Rifle
TAGS: Soah Ty’Jyn | Kasir Dorran ​

 

[Saltare Dothon]

Saltare watched as the grenades arced through the air before landing on the downed enemy dropship. There was an almost quiet silence before the rippling explosions tore the ship apart. Saltare could hear the enemy yelling from here. Either someone had still been alive in that ship, or they had hurt another member who had bailed out. Either way was good for him.

"Form up Inferno," Saltare said as he watched the enemy begin to maneuver. "I want this done quickly. Teams of two, bound and maneuver." As the five remaining members of his squad began to pair up for the inevitable push, Saltare watched the enemy start their own preparations. He noted an individual he believed to be in command based on his head movements and definitive posture. While the enemy troops engaged his own, this individual was surveying the situation, calculating, making determinations in the heat of combat.

As Saltare watched, grenades flew out from the enemy positions but landed short, in the empty space between his Rancor and the enemy dropship. It was a deliberate throw, Saltare could tell, but he didn't understand why. It wasn't long before he got the reason as those grenades exploded, forming what could only be described as temporary cover that the Sith immediately took advantage of by sprinting forward under fire to close the distance on Saltare's troops.

Saltare made note of the grenades, which would be a valuable piece of hardware if he survived this. That was a big if, as he watched the Sith troopers lob their grenades towards his squad's positions. His HUD tracked the grenade with a red threat indicator stating EXPLOSIVE ORDINANCE.

"Kriff! Grenades!" Saltare barked as he used his armor's systems to run and leap forward, assisted by his gravitic boots. The thermal detonators exploded behind him, forcing him forward and off balance as they ripped the already crippled Rancor to pieces. The rest of Inferno jumped clear of the wreckage, but paid the price as they lacked cover and began to take heavy enemy fire. One of his squads vitals went erratic as the enemy pumped untold fire on him, hitting weak spots in his armor and dropping him to the ground.

Saltare careened headfirst toward the ground, crashing hard and rolling to absorb what he could and letting his armor do the rest. Even still, several parts of his body were screaming in pain as he bruised his shoulder and back from the impact. As Saltare rolled forward into a crouching position, his left arm and vambrace came up, and a small portable shield emitted from his arm, attempting to block whatever enemy fire he could. He tucked his heavy rifle under his right shoulder and let loose on the enemy commander, his armor's and weapons' inbuilt systems compensating for his lack of two-handed aiming. The heavy particle beams lanced out toward the Sith trooper, impacting their make-shift cover and forcing them to stay in cover or take their chance with his particle beams.

"Advance Inferno! CQC protocol!"

The rest of Inferno rocketed forward, using their boots' inbuilt jets to catapult them toward the Sith. They coordinated through their HUD, picking an enemy and using their armor system to absorb and deflect what damage they could as they closed the distance.

Saltare stood and advanced, closing the distance to the enemy, ready for hand-to-hand, as the rest of Inferno squad, whoever was left, did the same. There was knife work that needed doing.

NPC: BETH ROLAN / INFERNO SQUAD / SQUAD LEADER / RANCOR 2-3

"Shit!" Beth exclaimed from the hold of the second Rancor. "Turn us the kriff around! Get us toward Selrik's coordinates, we need to take out that shield generator! What's our ETA?"

"ETA is 5 minutes," the driver stated.

"Let's get this done quickly, then we'll go back for the rest of our guys. Understood?"

"Affirmative, ma'am!" the rest of her squad yelled in unison.

The Rancor sped across the battlefield toward the Shield Generator. Beth viewed out the forward view-screen as the monster the Sith had called down caused undeniable damage to TIC forces. The battlefield comms were awash with calls for aid.

"We need orbital support. We're being overrun!"

"Empress, help us! That thing-"

"Push up! Push up! Target the legs of that beast! I want all-"

"Zombies! They're kriffing Zombies! Where are our reinforcements!?"

Beth shut the comms off. Her blood pressure and heart rate spiked as she listened. She knew she couldn't help those frontline troopers on the battlefield, and listening would only twist her mindset to where it didn't need to be. Their best, possibly only chance, was to take this shield generator offline and reclaim the skies.

"We're approaching the generator, get ready to dismount."

"Let's go Inferno!" Beth snapped. "Take out the forces at the base of this generator and then plant charges. Nothing fancy, let's get this done."

The two Rancors' sped into the Sith positions, their hardened armor and heavy tires burst through the enemy defenses, crushing zombies, droids, and Sith troops beneath its bulk as it pushed Inferno squad deep toward the shield generator. They didn't stop until they were almost on top of it. The rear ramp dropped, and the remains of Inferno spilled out. What awaited them was the walking dead intermingled with Sith soldiers and battle droids. The shield generator crackled behind the Sith troops, its power being forced into the sky as a shimmering energy field blocked all support from TIC forces in space.

Beth and her squads were now surrounded, but they were close to their objective. They pushed forward, unfazed by the enemy, supported by the heavy cannons and concussion grenade launchers on the two Rancor's as they advanced. Red blaster bolts, kinetic projectiles, and heavy explosives ripped into the enemy lines as the special forces soldiers advanced towards their primary objective. Beth activated her beacon, calling for any TIC forces remaining to support their push, lest they fail to take down the shield generator and watch their troops be crushed beneath the foot of the giant monster that ravaged the battlefield.

ENGAGING: Jacen Breska
TIC ALLIES: Onrai Selrik Lorcas Ronhar Tane
SITH: Aspect of Defiance

 

[Bastard]

Storm the Tower
Damnation​

---

Death permeated the streets of Shoengen.

The risen dead marched among the living, an infectious barrier repurposed to slow the oncoming tide of Imperial forces. Battles raged above as TIE-interceptors spiraled around the Brosian Ore Conglomerate Mega-Tower to provide their insurgents much needed time to pierce their heavily defended target. Defenses, both automated and sentient, stood against them. Those not stricken down by the virus met agonizing death in the form of blade or blaster.

Among the Imperial Forces staged nearest to the tower, the Bastard stood firm, his blackened armor slick with blood. A black blade of the deepest midnight cleaved through flesh and durasteel like paper. The Sith Sword inherited by the Crestfallen Knight so long ago bent to his every whim. Sick and infected sentients fell before him screaming, while the animated death clawed uselessly at his armored frame. His eyes burned crimson; stained by Bogan's lingering shadow during the events of Operation Kyber Dark decades prior.

The echani reached out with his offhand and squeezed tight.

A Sith soldier caught changing cover froze in place, her eyes bulging in a mixture of pain and fear as her armor collapsed inward, liquifying her body in a mess of pulpy gore. Blood and viscera oozed from between plated metal as the Bastard molded her into a roughly spherical shape. Another thrust of his hand sent her malformed corpse blasting through an oncoming squad of troopers intent on forcing the Imperial Knight from his position.

His men—the Gray Cloaks—were a specialized unit of mercenaries recruited from remnant New Imperial forces. They stood at all four corners of an intersection not far from the Brosian Ore Conglomerate Mega-Tower.

Their orders were simple.

Waylay Sith reinforcements. Destroy the sick and dying who threatened the Imperial Confederation's assault. And most importantly, slaughter every black cloaked, crimson sabered sycophant who crossed their path.

In all the Bastard's war-torn years, nothing brought greater purpose to his life than the massacre of his most Hated Enemy. The Sith Code brokered no room for discussion. It bred creatures of the fell night; denizens of the deepest pits of the Nether afforded mortal form to choke the galaxy in an endless darkness. But his blade illuminated the truth of their pitiful existence.

The Blackwall could not save them. Their machinations were nothing more than abhorrent lies; empty and purposeless beyond what selfish inflections these cretins used to convince themselves otherwise.

More soldiers approached the intersection. Machines of war rolled forward behind them, auto-turrets shifting position in preparation to open fire on his men.

"Now!" Errant howled, his emboldened voice carrying over the battlefield like a powerful thunderclap.

An explosion ripped through the buildings surrounding the southernmost entrance to his intersection. The lowermost floors erupted with flame and debris, toppling dozens of tons of durasteel and duracrete sideways over the street. Death rained from above and flattened the encroaching enemy like insects. Dust and smoke coated the streets in a blinding barrier, but the Gray Cloaks fought on unburdened.

---

Tags: Zachariah Conway