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

[Braze]

Tags: Marlon Sularen

A L L _ Y O U R _ B A S E _ A R E _ B E L O N G _ T O _ U S
Objective III: The Battlefield is Constant Chaos
Gear: S.H.A.D.E.S. | Phantom Mist Projector | Gidgit | Code Breaker Card | Processor Pendant | Covert Compact | Nite Night Nails : POLISH | Deda-net | FSP - Besh | DUST Compact | In the Zone Compact​

Target: INV Sularen's Revenge
Bounty Link: Access Codes – INV Sularen's Revenge
License: Braze's Bounty Hunter License

Braze followed the thrum of power conduits through the walls, tracing them like a nervous system. The ship was massive, its data infrastructure spread like neural webbing across decks, sectors, and subcores of information and power relays. But it was also predictable, and he knew where the current slowed is where it pooled.

Braze had studied the internal workings of starships and held an intimate knowledge of their typical structures. Pertinent information on how they were built and how their systems interfaced, exactly how redundancies bled into one another, how data traveled in pulses and just how to-leverage that knowledge to his advantage. He had run military-grade design labs and personally designed warships. He understood the architecture rather well.

That knowledge led him to an auxiliary data core, tucked two levels beneath the main Combat Information Center. Smaller and less busy , but still wired into the backbone of the ship's information network. This was the kind of place where status logs, routine pings, and mirrored backups accumulated, typically unseen by command's eyes.

He swiped a technician's access card, and the terminal gave a polite beep as the door hissed open. A quiet hum greeted him... No surveillance nodes lit up because his access card was legitimate. Just cold racks of servers breathing heat into recycled air.

Braze moved like he belonged there with an oddly casual ease. Technicians were expected during fleet mobilization to check on diagnostics, stress tests, coolant re calibrations, and more.

He took a seat at a side terminal, logged in under the card's credentials, and navigated to the system health dashboard, bringing up a useful overlay.

SYSTEM TERMINAL: AUXNET-NODE7
ACCESS GRANTED — Technician Clearance Verified
LOG MIRROR ACTIVE — 72-Hour Buffer Detected

>> SYSTEM TERMINAL: AUXNET-NODE7
>> Access Level: Technician-03
>> Clearance Code: •••••••••••••
>> Diagnostics Menu Loaded...
>> LOG FILE MIRROR — Last 72 Hours Available
>> Begin download? [Y/N]
>>[Y]... Downloading...

Bingo.

It was exactly what he needed, providing him with a local mirror of the ship's main access log, dumped here as a failsafe in case of system corruption elsewhere. With a few routine keystrokes, he queued the file for "analysis" under an innocuous header:

>>DiagPull_0730_ThermComp

---

-- This post is made in accordance with the Bounty Hunter's Code. The target's toggle was active at the time of posting. This post includes a valid license and links directly to the bounty as required by board rules. --​

 

[Onrai]

Objective 1
Tags: Open

The shadowed form of Onrai proceeded more slowly through the mega-tower. Her goal secured, she continued to proceed in an astrally amorphous shape throughout the mega-tower's winding complexes until she came to a door. It was part of the pathway to the security mainframe, that she was certain of, but this door seemed somewhat more secure than the others she had sought to penetrated beforehand. She looked for a console, for something that provided access through the door. Her wisped form infiltrated, penetrating deeper into the memory of the console. The defenses were stronger, but still a false identity was forged, signals sent to the door in question that opened it.

Once more, checking the consoles of the mega-tower could yet betray her presence, but for now, at least, the issue was elsewhere.

Objective 3
Tags: Spencer Varanin

"Come out wherever you are…"

"Hello, Spencer. Long time no see."

The shadowed form of Onrai would yet meet the apprentice and lover of the infamous Ashin Cardé Varanin upon her arrival, a blackened silhouette of a woman with pale milky orbs, the only sign of any sight the being had towards her. The two had not personally interacted in decades, not since the false goddess had been a fleshy mortal whose main manifestation wore the guise she still gallivanted in. The radiation of fear-inducing Dark Side energy that came from the Phobis Core - a device she recalled well from her daring recovery of the Black Hex destroyer during the Dark Harvest crisis - tantalized her as she subtly, silently snacked on it. While partially practical, she considered it fortunate that the aging warship of which Spencer possibly remembered was barely-rigged, a deliberate move to ensure that if it were lost to the predations of a Sith strike fleet, the cost of lives would be minimal. Still, she pained to think of what the crewmen, hardened veterans of the madness of Otherspace, yet felt at the hands of the construct implanted in the Echani's flesh.

"Why are you clinging close to the Sith in this day and age?"

Yes, she recognized it. A self-perpetuating reaction - a draw from the waves of fear the ancient Sith device generated, empowering the woman crafted as a being of import. And then she... sought to consume the energy Onrai had directed towards Brosi? The aberration was confused. The projection of Anti-Force energy towards Brosi faltered in part as a substantive portion of it was drawn in by the former, or perhaps returned, Sith. Though she figured it would inhibit Selrik Lorcas, Saltare Dothon , and the other Imperials' battle against the swarms of undead, it was indeed something the archaic being had accounted for.

With the full assent of Imperial Exarch Karl Von Strauss , Onrai had sought to assist in the development of a weapon, a construct that would allow the use of the Anti-Force to react to the inevitable invocation of Dark Side sorcery in future battles with the Sith. Though the experiment had turned disastrous, it had plainly validated one thing if nothing else - the Anti-Force was empowered upon reaction with and consumption of the Force. Indeed, it was the energy Onrai had gained during those trials which had ensured an otherwise unfortunate tragedy was yet averted. Onrai herself felt Spencer's power in the Force, ever further stimulated by the cycle she had locked herself into.

It was as though she was yet a battery in a freshly wired circuit.

Imbibing in the Anti-Force energy of Onrai's ritual would only react negatively with Spencer's Force powers - it was a poison for which there was little cure, something that could reasonably only weaken and wither her prodigious use and union of the Force. A hand raised from the shade, a focus directed as, to ensure the resulting energies did not harm the Sith, she moved to consume the generated power. If Spencer persisted and continued the impromptu circuit long enough, perhaps Onrai would be able to both handle her and continue to strike against the profane rituals of Brosi.

Perpetuating too long would have far worse consequences.

"This isn't something you want to continue drinking, Spencer. Cut yourself off from this tap." Said the ethereal form of Onrai. "If you continue, it will kill you, and I don't want to have to help Ashin retrieve your spirit from the Netherworld again." It was a direct warning, for she had no reason nor gain from eliminating Spencer, nor did she wish to rouse the ire of the one being in the galaxy whose knowledge of the galaxy's arcanery equalled if not surpassed her own.

Perhaps the key conflict of all the war being waged in the system was yet happening so very far from the world millions would die for.

 

[Augustus Von Strauss]

Objective: II - Seize the Means of Production
Location: Inbound to Brosi's Surface
Troop Contingent:150 troopers and three gunships

Spoiler: Trooper Loadouts

Standard: [100] Ironstorm-pattern Stormtrooper Armor, G-11 Imperial Standard Blaster Carbine, Thermal Detonators
Exoskeletons: [50] Imperial Infantry Exoskeleton, Plasma Disruptor Rifle, Thermal Detonators, CryoBan Grenades

Spoiler: Augustus Loadout

Armor: Imperial Infantry Exoskeleton
Weapons: Plasma Disruptor Rifle, SE-26p heavy blaster pistol (given to him by @Ronhar Tane )
Equipment: 4 Thermal Detonators, 2 CryoBan Grenades, 1 extra dose of viral suppressant

Allies: N/A | TIC
Enemies: Spirit of Korriban | Darth Caedes | SO

Dust exploded in all directions as the Imperial gunships lifted off. Two climbed high, banking into slow, circling orbits overhead, while the third remained low, its repulsorlifts humming as it hovered just behind Augustus's forward arc, in order to provide support if things went sideways.

The two fireteams of standard stormtroopers had already taken up defensive positions in the front. According to ISS intel, the planet was supposed to be largely undefended. As a result, most of Augustus's fireteams were outfitted with standard-issue carbines; fortunately, one of the three gunships had been carrying an E-Web. It wasn't much, but it was heavier than anything else they had brought, which was a small mercy given what was coming.

Just a few meters behind the front line stood the infantry exoskeleton team, Augustus among them. The Commandant moved with purpose, barking orders, setting firing arcs, directing coverage... until a stormtrooper captain's voice crackled sharply over the comms.

<<Sir, hostiles within visual range... oh, chit. It's a damn horde.>>

Augustus lifted a pair of binocs to his helmet what he saw made his mouth dry. Hundreds, if not thousands, of dead, running. Running straight at his group. He dropped the binocs and ran forward, his voice amplified by the helmet and the comms unit. "Set firing lines and sector arcs! Fire on my mark! Exo-team ready CryoBan grenades, they're running fast, lets see if we can't slow them down! Gunship, watch our flanks, we don't want to be overrun!"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in while raising his rifle to his shoulder. Once it was level, he opened his eyes and yelled, "Open fire!"

In an instant, a storm of red and green energy bolts erupted from the fireteams, piercing into the advancing mass of Jen'ari. Augustus squeezed the trigger of his plasma disruptor, doing his best to keep it steady. He had improved since taking command of the 144th, but he still wasn't as precise as the troopers in front of him. He watched as his company threw the first sets of CryoBan grenades into the mass of zombies with varying degrees of success.

From behind and above, the hovering gunship let loose a volley of maser cannon fire, while concentrated beams of energy shot forth from their wing-mounted positions. The other two ships were still circling; their assistance was coming, but not soon enough.

Augustus fired another burst, then cursed under his breath, They knew we were coming, I should've brought more damn men.

Spoiler: Fireteam Positions

For those inclined to theater of the mind:
Stromtroopers E-Web Stormtroopers
Exoskeletons Augustus Exoskeletons
(But in a crescent shape \/ [somewhat like that])

 

[Hacks]

Location: Administration Office, 315th Floor, Ore-Duke MegaTower
Objective: Slice, Extract, Dip
Slicing Interactions: Allyson Locke | Naedira Darcrath

Hacks lay motionless in the office chair, arms hanging limp at her sides. Her eyes glazed and distant, staring at nothing. Yet her mind was racing as she dipped into the virtual.

To Hacks, the world of the binary was three-dimensional and tangible, made manifest by the projection of her AJ implant. Her mind was surrounded by endless streams of code and data-packets. She began to search, scouring the directory for information. She needed something simple, to ground herself in the network, and follow threads. There was a gargantuan volume of information, shipping manifests, resource deposits, mining outputs. None of it was what she wanted, nor needed. Her mind brushed them aside.

A shock ran through the network, something strange had happened. Something she had never encountered. Hacks' mind followed the path through the network until she was in the programming centre for the security feeds. Streams of code rushing past her. It was wrong. She studied the information for a moment, not making sense how it could work, yet it had. It wasn't a program, it was . . . she couldn't name it. Someone had taken remote control of the SecuriFeeds, easy enough for even the most amateur, but the execution was all wrong. She had unknowingly stumbled across the aftermath of a Mechu Deru user.

Back in the administration office, Xeykard would hear Hacks' still form begin to talk, her lips moving but her body remaining motionless. "Someone's hijacked the SecuriFeeds, it's weird, not good. I'll wrestle control, should be easy, but I don't know how to counter their.. programs, if they come after me."

Then she was back in the program, rewriting code to regain control of the SecuriFeeds, streaming the footage back to her F80 deck for Xeykard to peruse. It was rushed, this wasn't her primary objective. She injected the code into the network and left the node. As she sought out the central directory to search for the information Xeykard had requested, she heard a familiar alarm. Dogs were barking.

The F80 MacroPad screen flashed a moment, a semi-transparent three-headed dog was on the screen, barking furiously. The Cerberus program had detected an intrusion. Ransomware. Hacks was violently ejected from the Net and she awoke with a gasp. "Bloody hell," she swore aloud, holding a palm to her forehead as a migraine washed over her. She grit her teeth and stood, "Cerberus locked down my Pad, I need to disconnect and find another jack."

Hacks folded the MacroPad and held it by the carrying handle, then looked to Xeykard to explain. "Cerberus is my counterintrusion software. It'll lock me out if it detects foreign manipulation in my system, but retaliates by frying the circuits in their devices." A simplification, but good enough, she thought. The Hellfire subprogram would trace the original device, cybernetic or server, slicing in and shutting down temperature controls. Give it a minute and they'd find their hardware overheating, even burning out and frying the sensitive electronics.

Allyson Locke - Xeykard - Naedira Darcrath

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Caedes | Revna Marr | Gerwald Lechner | Elmindra Xitaar | Zal Aditi | Madrona A’Mia | Lysander von Ascania | The Lord of Hunger
Location: Force Nexus - Objective 3 [Chaos]
____________________________________________________

It was against every maternal instinct she had to leave her children, all of them, to the mercy of what infernal machinations the Imperials brought to bear. She did not fear for them, nor did she fear the enemy, but it rankled her to have her hands bound. The pale woman knew that her duty was with the King of Korriban and their fellows because the results of their actions could turn the tide for the Sith Order as a whole. Depriving the Order of the Holy Worlds meant depriving their young of their past which could negatively impact their future.

<Mother, watch as I become the spear that strikes at the heart of our enemies.>

Srina would stay the course.

<<I always see you, child mine…Let none diminish the warrior you have become. Offer our enemy the same courtesy they have provided to us—No mercy.>>

She could feel the flame that was her eldest daughter, stirring in the back of her mind, distant, but never dim. Quinn had bloomed into a fierce young woman, and the rest of her young followed in her footsteps. It was more than the silvery Echani could ask for, perhaps, more than she deserved. It was then that a shiver ran down her spine and something in the Force shifted inexplicably.

It was incredibly far away but…It caused Srina to turn her gaze to the stars. It felt wrong. Intrusive in a way that was almost a desecration of her being. It was quiet at first, but filled with a tremendous weight. Phantom fingers filled her own, the shadows shifted, and the sensation of someone familiar and impossibly near pressed against her psyche. She felt the change before she saw it, a flicker of something other, but something known. The Force folded inward where her form cast no light, and from it stepped the only being she could never anticipate.

Spencer Varanin .

Srina did not turn to look to see who stepped out of her shadow…But a ghostly smile slipped fleetingly across her features, hidden by her rebreather. Her fingers tightened on that of the only Queen she had ever served, the only one that she would ever willingly bow to if it was requested. Not out of fear or some misplaced sense of duty…But because Spencer Varanin had earned her loyalty through blood, sweat, and tears. "I did not expect your presence here…", she trailed off, voice softer than the ash that moved in the air, "But I am glad of it."

The former Queen of Eshan referenced the unnatural oddity that Srina had sensed, and her head nodded. It was fortuitous that they had many hands to make the burdens of this war less damaging…Srina could not stop what was coming and simultaneously maintain her place in the ritual. She was required, there. Spencer's intervention almost felt ordained, if she believed in such things. "Far be it from me to keep you from your amusements. Should I encounter Ashin Cardé Varanin I will relay your message…Do what you will, and we, will do what we must."

The woman disappeared as if she had never been. Her hand was…Inexplicably empty.

But the work could finally begin.

They had waited so long and worked so tirelessly for the moment when their labors might produce something more than the festering grave Brosi had become. The Force bent and twisted around the rune-covered area like heatwaves over sand, distorting sound, space, and her perception. Srina could sense the infant nexus starting to awaken, but it felt fragile, as if it wasn't sure what it wanted to become with so many feet pounding down on it.

A black hole—Or something entirely ineffable.

Something new.

Darth Caedes took on the brunt of the ritual, and she watched in silence while his features shifted and the Dark Side responded to his call. It was a delicate point in the process, and even her breathing seemed to slow while the bleakness of Brosi began to leak from the King of Korriban. She could feel the echoes of pain and desperation that lingered in the land, and the slender Echani focused on drawing in more of those negative energies that fueled the work. It felt infinite…Even from a distance. Her eyes flickered to Revna Marr for a moment to see how she fared. The raven-haired woman was more than capable…But this was a dangerous gambit, and it felt apt to offer her support. "…I am here…If you have need of me."

Srina paused then…Before breathing in deeply. Collecting the darkness…Holding onto it as Darth Caedes seemed to temporarily reach his limit of what he could take in. He was a beacon, now, a tower of shining midnight black that would likely draw the attention of any force-user in the area. Srina aimed to filter the overflow back into the ritual, back to Caedes…But they needed more…Always and forever, this ritual required more.

"Empress," he added, finally breaking his gaze from Revna's and letting it slide past Srina to land upon the Dread Wolf."We are not alone."

The warning was well met, and Srina nodded, her response coming to the King of Korriban not with words, but a feeling, the shape of understanding. She knew that their actions would eventually draw attention, no matter how carefully they obscured the ritual site. They were lucky that it had taken the Imperials this long to find it.

"Good to see you, my former empress."

The gruesome presence of a former ally ( The Lord of Hunger ) made itself known without so much as a disturbance of the dust in the air. The sensation of an imminent threat moved through the area, like smoke through glass, and her unfathomable eyes landed on the intruder without any visible response. The facetious greeting passed forward by the Sith Lord was met with an almost respectful incline of her head. He did not like this?

Neither did she.

Sith in-fighting was always a complicated subject. It was necessary and expected…But his methods were a mystery to her. His intentions were not. The attack came swiftly, and the Force within rose to counter, but it was Darth Caedes that stepped forward with a solution. He protected Psilofyr while smoothly catching the lightning, as if his hand were a bottle, and she could see it changing in his grasp. It had been a solid opening volley that made even a King stagger…But they would waste not, want not. Energy was energy, and if it could be converted to their cause, it was exactly what they required.

The order was given for Gerwald Lechner to deal with the intruder, but a subtle warning of something coming thrummed in her veins. It gave her time to brace before the energy that had been captured and amalgamated was shared, thrown like a bright, molten wave at herself and Revna. She reached for it on instinct, and the moment it kissed her skin, the world fell silent. The single point of impact caused it to roll across her flesh from the tip of her fingers, to the tips of her toes…And the static of malformed, eldritch power made her involuntarily shudder.

Gold-hewn eyes began to burn, and the corruption in her iris shifted to impossible brightness in the dark. Her breath hitched just once…Not from pain, but pressure, and the sheer immensity of power that ran through her as the ritual demanded union. She let it in. Let it become part of her, filtered of impurities, of malice that might have been the Lord of Hunger's initial goal. Her pale face tilted toward the enemy with all the grace and inevitability of the moon rising on a clear night. Perfect. Cold…Empty.

"Thank you."
​

There was no compassion in her tone, but it also lacked the hate one should have when being attacked. His arrival had been thunderous…but the Sith Empress had learned long ago that noise was rarely an indication of substance. It was an offense that she did not intend to give, merely the way her mind fell toward calculation. For her purposes? The Lord of Hunger was not irrelevant, but he was not essential.

A distraction, not a disruption.

"Let it feed our work," he whispered, as if to the seed he held, then to Revna."Let it feed Psilofyr."

Those same glowing eyes slipped away from the enemy, touched with unholy light, and landed squarely on her wolf to call. Gerwald Lechner had already been given an order; there was no need to repeat it, but he would feel her presence close in around him. Jasmine and rain, that now filled with ozone, while her might finally brought itself to bear. She was not ostentatious, she did not project her strength for all to see, nor hold it over the heads of those around her. It was subtle, saccharine…

"Let... it... feeeeeeeed!"

Right up until the stars fell and the sky split open.

Gerwald would feel it now.

<<Handle it cleanly. You are not here, for him. You are here for me.>>

Her telepathic words fell with gravity to his mind, but her actions were almost delicate while she removed her gloves. It was a risk, but the protection that Psilofyr would soon offer would be worth any peril. She knelt and began to trace the ur-Kittât glyph-work on the pavement at her feet with an almost tender caress. This was part of the work. Part of feeding Psilofyr…Her lips moved behind her mask with an ancient tongue that could not be heard, but it mattered not; the Force was everywhere.

The Darkside could hear her.

One by one, the runic glyphs began to light up as she completed the sequence and pressed the energy that Darth Caedes and the The Lord of Hunger had so generously offered into the earth. A red-orange glow stirred beneath the ash, flickering to life, like embers in burning coal. They woke slowly and began to pulse before becoming solid, casting sharp, stuttering light across her features. Her whisper would rise softer than silk to join the King of Korriban...

"…Let it feed."

Spoiler: Equipment

Wyvern Shadow (Armor) Rebreather Wedding Ring Sronias, A Queen's Ring Mother's Wrath Terentatek Body Gloves Karve Dropship

 

[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: 2x Thermal Detonators | 1x Kushute Grenades | 3x Incendiary
LOCATION: :: Brosi - Downed DeathDrop Dropship ::
TAG: Saltare Dothon

The grenades did their job, and one of their squadmates felt the wrath of the galaxy's true Empire riddle it's body. One down.

The rest of them would follow.

But they weren't slowed, not for a second, and particle blasts from their squad leader pushed Jacen down behind his cover, "Yeah that's what I thought," he muttered angrily, a feeling of righteous fury rising in his chest. He had answered Talk-Box with one of them. It wasn't even close to an even exchange. Not even close. But it was a start, and it was a damn good one.

The other three members of Blackout continued exchanging fire, with the exception of Blackout 4 who remained sat behind his and 2's wall.

Continuous fire kept Jacen pinned down, and the small explosions ripping the fragile Kushute cover apart threatened to expose him completely. He recognized the energy, as anyone would. Particle blasts.

"I can do that too," he said quietly, but decided against switching fire modes. It'd take too much time. His Helmets auditory systems, in the meantime, picked up something.

Their squad leader called for CQC.

"Blackout," He called out, looking around at his team, "Close quarters. Ready yourselves for a scrap, droppers!"
He placed his DC-902d back on his back, keeping his head down as the squad leader's blasts kept him suppressed, and pulled out his second Kushute. Flicking the dial, he set it to 'net' mode, and primed it then activated his wrist mounted Ancile Shield and waited as the Pretenders closed the gap.

Finally, he surged up from cover, flung the Ancile shield from his wrist like a disc, then followed with the grenade. A particle blast hit him square in the chest mid-motion with his shields flaring bright as he was knocked flat and left him gasping for breath.
Jacen gasped on the ground as the Kushute detonated in mid air, a liquid metal net forming from the canister. He forced himself to rise up as the rest of his team, minus Blackout 4, began to engage their respective enemies. He remained sat up against the wall, unable to really do anything to help with one good arm and no clear targets.

Jacen groaned and looked back towards his own target, the enemy squad leader, and engaged his own repulsor pack to charge into his enemy, drawing his sunshot pistol from his holster, and his Shiva Knife from it's sheath.

One for Talk-Box. A thousand more to make it right.


​

 

[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."
___________​

Her eyes rolled toward the heavens…

But it didn't stop the pinkish hue from spreading across her cheeks without permission. As much as she should have called him out for being ridiculous and tasteless, some part of her was pleased that he seemed to acknowledge her worth. It wasn't that the Order or her family were particularly dismissive, but she was the youngest Marr. The littlest princess, spoiled, and it showed. Every once in a while, she liked to be taken seriously. Horus did so without being asked.

He really was an absolute menace.

Too charming, too persistent. Too good at pretending not to take "no" for an answer. And now? He walked with her through an actual hellscape while saying things that would make lesser women melt in their boots. "Careful, darling.", she spoke, lazily and with a less than subtle drawl of faux disbelief, "Keep talking like that and I might think you mean it."

She was teasing him.

Mostly.

His loyalty thus far had surprised her, that he stayed when her personality took an obsessive and demanding edge. He hadn't run when things got complicated, when her name dragged her into places that most would pay good cred to avoid. It was flattering, confusing, and thus extremely maddening because she was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. She was always waiting for the moment when she might be "too much of a problem," and he returned to Coruscant…Never to be seen again.

"At your side? I don't think you could handle me around all the time…Too much perfection, really."

No one could handle her that long.

She blinked—Pressing the thought away. Now wasn't the time, but she was always like this before a fight. Thinking about "what if" and the worst possible scenario, because imagining anything else held the potential to let her down. Her fingers curled around his, selfish, with their remaining few moments of peace, and she walked with deliberate slowness. They got to the transport soon enough anyway, and she soon found herself accepting pieces of gear to put on. He asked about Brosi, and she released a heavy, dramatic sigh that made her shoulders slope. She didn't even realize that she hadn't spoken her thoughts aloud… "I wish I knew."

It was above her pay grade, even as one with noble blood.

"Maybe…There's something here? Something hidden?"

Sophia didn't speak ill of the Emperor because, well, she wasn't dumb as hell. She paid the appropriate respects that her brother had tried to instill for the sake of House Marr, but she wouldn't pretend to know the mind of the scariest thing she'd ever met. She paused, shrugging. "Or…Maybe he's playing dejarik in four or five dimensions while most of us are limited to three."

She locked the last piece of her armor into place and replaced the long red coat she'd been wearing earlier. Horus knew how much she liked the shade…But she knew how much he disliked waste. Sophia leaned in and kissed his cheek before he put his helmet on. Softly and surprisingly affectionate to soothe what it was that might irritate him. "Either way…I'd like to keep the Imps from laying their grubby little paws on it."

She pouted, perfectly, and flounced a little before putting on her own helmet.

"I don't like people touching what's mine."

 

[Soldane Talon]

There were times when the darkness imprinted on him by the Sepulchral stole his face, his eyes, fought to drive him to some glorious purpose. He didn't feel himself in those moments, he could only feel his heart slow and teeter on the brink of freezing. Could feel the cold chill riding his nerves like a storm. Bit at a throat exposed.

He snapped back to himself as Lunaria Talon ushered him to follow, but he did not. Her and Matteo Guo-Yian would head towards their objective, and Soldane would find a way. Where she cut a place for herself in society, Soldane felt more alien by the minute. So full of anger and resentment, he turned into more a pressure cooker of dissapointment than a true Sith. His fingers played at the neck of his skin-suit, feeling the hidden runic seals beneath the surface, tailored just so he could pretend like everyone else. Like he belong here. Like he mattered.

He undid his clips after the protest of the pilots to clear the landing area, and stepped out of the ship just as it was taking off. The others had moved on, just as life dictated, and in his microcosm he felt the macrocosm lay its road before him. Forever to be seperate, he imagined, forever burdened by unholy knowledge and pitiful emotion. It digusted him.

So with digust filling his veins with its ichor, he entered the forest with a quiet regard. Silence. Alienation. He would become nothing in the branches, a wasp hidden amongst a hive. Deeper in his mind, he felt nothing but the urge to run and leave all this behind.

The Lord of Hunger

 

[Horus Rhyne]

Location: Brosi
Ally: Sophia of House Marr

"Oh, really, then you must truly hate it when people touch me." It was mostly a tease, but one that was grounded in fact. Each time they got into a fight together and had to kill someone on the other side... oh how Sophia loathed it when they managed to strike even a single blow against him. Which was rather ironic considering how eagerly she threw herself into danger.

Maybe she wanted him to feel how it felt to her when he did the same.

But again it was a charming remark. Saying in so many words that he belonged to her without having to spell it out. He truly did not have an off-button when it came to her. It was only solidified as they began to check through the rest of the gear and she spoke about perfection. "Mm, it is like fine art, my Lady, I can't get enough of it. Be at my side at all times... I'd only want more of it."

Armor came on, locked into place and suddenly his vision cleared up with an HUD feeding him information. Two clicks north from their position, that is where a bounty of Imperials were currently encamped.

They were trying to organize a forced march to take this place. Apparently they didn't realize that Horus and Sophia were already here, mostly because he had kept his entry to this place relatively quiet. The last thing that Horus wanted was Sith coming to sniff around and complicating a business arrangement for him.

It was why he hadn't brought a lot of security forces with him either.

"Would you like to play this quiet or loud, darling? The choice is yours."

 

[Dollshade]

Location: Shoengen - Brosi
Thread Objective: Storm the Tower
Mission Objective: Secure data.
Allies: Narantuyaa Asther
Enemies: Darth Prazutis

Something was coming.

"Contact front, no visual, WHAT IS THAT?!"

"Fall back! Fall, NO! OH FORCE NO!"

"NO EYES ON THE TARGET! HE'S IN-"

Dollshade registered the screams first—raw, chaotic, and human. Then came a moment of eerie silence. She turned back towards the entrance then, graceful even urgency, only for a powerful shockwave to meet her head-on, throwing the Hapan from her feet as the world around her collapsed into soundless distortion. Her back hit the floor, her breath caught inside her chest, and her ears rang. Heat followed, rushing across her skin as her ostrine-reinforced suit shimmered under the strain, thermal shielding flaring as it worked to spare her flesh from ruin.

The moment passed, and her senses realigned. Dollshade realized then that something had entered the building.

"We gotta move. We may not be able to kill this one but we can at least slow him down. But priority is the data." Narantuyaa said to Dollshade.

“I will contain and delay the threat,” Dollshade began, breath catching faintly at the word delay, as if already tracing the edges of what that might cost. “While you run for the data, Overseer.” She finished, her words laced with equal parts calm and resolve.

"Strike at your discrestion, but we are doing a measured retreat." Narantuyaa looked at Dollshade "Do not become someone I have to bury."

Dollshade didn’t answer, instead offering only a slight nod before moving to cover off Narantuyaa as she ran. All the while, the towering shape loomed through the haze, wreathed in smoke and the scent of charred flesh. Without waiting for the flames to subside, she leveled a chakram towards the figure from 16 meters away, in the hopes of slowing down the monster’s progress. Then, sliding into cover behind the remains of a shattered turret, she swapped out the magazine in her machine pistol, replacing it with one containing Void Stone-treated armor penetrating slugs.

Whatever the beast had for her, she would receive it and thereafter, return it in kind.

And she would not falter.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Opaline Skin
  
  • Arms
    
    • Modular Attachment Point - L
      
      • FAE/M-02 Energized Forearm Vibroblade Mk. II
    • Modular Attachment Point - R
      
      • Repulsor Projector
• Blushwheels
  
  • Enhancement Cell Chamber
    
    • Mark IV Energy Cell
• Needlewitch
  
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
    • Phase I “Susurration” Anti-Sonic Silencer
  • Ammunition
    
    • Standard Penetrator Magazine (4)
    • Void Stone Armor Penetrator Magazine (4)
• NZ All-Purpose Viral Suppressant Type II
• FAE/MDE-01-S1 Semiautonomous Seeker Thermal Explosive (4)

 

[Varin Mortifer]

The motion was swift, practiced. After a couple of collisions of their blades his opponent performed a maneuver that sent Varin deeper into no man’s land. Quickly rolling over his shoulder he recovered to a kneeling position as more space was gained between the battling duo. Lightning surged down Varin's arms as he growled and stood back up.

A quick impact to his back caused him to lurch forward as a blaster bolt nailed him in the shoulderblade. Quickly he turned his gaze to the attacker, a young imperial with a rifle was charging him. With a yell Varin held out his hand and using the force crushed the soldier into a ball of viscera bone and flesh. The plating was doing its job at protecting him from common bolts.

Looking back at his opponent he sent a spark of flame her way. Expecting her to dodge it, he had sent it with a different destination in mind. The ground behind her, where the spark combusted sending a concussive force to drive her momentum towards where she would dodge. Flames began to lick between the playing of his back as bit by bit, he would seem to lose himself to bloodlust.

Unleash me boy…I hunger….more…..MORE!

Varin's vision began to go red as his breathing began to quicken in sporadic patterns. One would think he was starting to have a panic attack, but it was something deep within him, clawing, ripping to get free. Something ancient and sinister. Something….Hungry

Velcarin​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Objective One
Mega-Tower and Surrounding Area
Direct Engagement: Lysander von Ascania | Lucette
Tova Zyl | Seraphina Pryde

!Environmental Hazards Targeting All Non-Sith!

Earthen rending…

…colossal upheaval of boulders and moldering vegetation…

…the sharp crack hisssss pop of gas lines, electrical wiring, and other such structural utilities being damaged all at once.​

Where once Shoengen was whole, if sickly and suffering, it violently cracked and crumbled from internal pressure. The ground quaked, structures groaned, and what little remaining plant life there was in and around the city seemed to crumple. Screams and cries of confusion soon joined the terrestrial din as the world shook.

For the likes of Lysander, Lucette, and a handful of other Sith near the doomed city, terrain seemed to remain almost mystically traversable. However, for those not known to the Sith Shadow, solid footing would be harder to find. So too did the city suddenly pose new threats to all intruders who tread there.

From new cracks and caverns now pockmarking the land, spilled forth swarms of Sithspawn, plague-riddled biting insects, and ungodly amalgamations of the two; many hundreds of Nairi Wasps with their hallucinogenic bite buzzed forth in droves, to dig hungry mandibles in wherever even a quarter inch of skin was exposed. Miniature variations of the Despoiler were set loose as well, their meter-long skittering forms scrambling over rubble, racing their kin to launch themselves at Imperial troops wherever they encountered them. Angry clouds of Hornets soon filled the sky, the humming of their wings creating a nightmare symphony.

Still more creatures spilled forth, hungry and viciously searching for sustenance after their forced hibernation. Every imaginable crawling, flying, biting, and stinging type of organism seemed to spew from churned-up soil, only to be followed by the slower, steadier slither of thorny vines. A'Mia was finally making herself known on a grand scale.

During her weeks in dormancy, as she let her already hulking form grow yet larger and stronger beneath the surface of the planet, the neti had grown into a behemoth. Though not quite on the same scale as Garza , A'Mia's form was more versatile and insidious than that. The fruits of her dark, creeping labour now came to bear.

As the Hoardmother revealed herself in a cacophony of pestilence, a portion of her mind recalled language and duty— Lysander's response belatedly registered.

<<A'Mia, your words wash over me like rain, and should you continue, I shall drown!>>

A sly grin curled at the edges of his mouth during a brief pause, then he continued.

<<You're so cool, Tree Lady!>>

Yes, child. Your appreciation is noted.​

A long pause, the buzz and chitinous chittering swelling to a deafening roar as portions of the smoky war-torn sky were blotted out, then the Professor thought to offer additional encouragement to her student.

You are a strong and promising seedling, Lysander— let the fire feed you as it does a forest. Survive this day, and you will grow beyond measure.​

The words were slow, ponderous, and the blonde might later wonder if he imagined them. A boon was extended to him then, a shared connection called upon in a silent moment:

The Seer stones of Ukatis.

A'Mia joined their stones as if it were as simple as making a holocall. Her orchid core and that uncanny way that she had of seeing into the very nature of reality served to create a connection that, if Lysander was open to it, would grant the human a bit of her foresight. His already spinning mind was granted momentum but also a hint of direction. It wasn't the first time she'd passed on her skills to him, so this time she opened the channel to flow freely between them. Her sight, Shatterpoint, and the way of the Weave, they were his to use however he pleased.

Her consciousness meandered elsewhere, split into thousands of fragments as she perceived through the eyes of many and lashed out with punishing vines whenever a hapless target drew too near. Part of that strange mind was even with her King, longing to participate more wholly with Darth Caedes in his ritual to feed a seed which might well be the future of the planet.

A few segments of her massive, sprawling form which had sprouted up from innumerable cracks throughout Shoengen also took turret fire from the automated defenses of the city. Those small setbacks were mere irritants to her though, and A'Mia set about her work of terrorizing every living soul that dared breathe Brosi's air without the Sith Order's invitation to do so.

​

​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

Allies: Srina Talon | Darth Caedes | Revna Marr | Elmindra Xitaar | Zal Aditi | Madrona A’Mia
Enemies: The Lord of Hunger
Equipment: Lord Commander Armor | Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne
| Strømafbryder​

The Dread Wolf had never been one for sorcery or the gaudy rituals that so many Sith cloaked themselves in like funeral shrouds. Gerwald was a warrior, always had been, and once more he was employed for that singular purpose. The role which was blunt and primal, fit him like a second skin. It was not lost on him what this moment truly was, a subservient posture formed into a protective circle, a leash he allowed only out of necessity. Few knew the truth of the beast. Srina Talon was one of them. There was little she did not know about her wolf. That was not mere claim. It was fact. Without her, he would not draw breath, nor would Naedira. Srina’s benevolence was a debt carved into his bones, one he could never hope to repay.

Their circle formed. Gerwald prowled the perimeter with the patience of a predator caged by duty. His amber eyes flicked to the ritual’s heart, then outward to the wasted land, to the enemy beyond.

Tion.

Echnos.

Sulis Van.

Woostri.

Worlds whose soil still carried the memory of slaughter. Each one had proven the same truth: the battlefield never mattered. No shrine, no holy world, no monument to history was sacred enough to restrain the Sith when blood was demanded. These Imperials clung to illusions of strategy and superiority, yet they lacked the one thing the Sith carried like breath.

Bloodlust.

And in that, none surpassed the Dread Wolf.

It was simple, really. If the Sith could not claim what they desired, no one would.

Gerwald smirked at the thought, a curl of fang behind his lips. It was ruthless and pragmatic. These were not traits born of nature alone. They had been sharpened by Srina Talon. Once, the Wolf would have been content to hunt, kill, and revel in the blood spilled beneath his claws. She had changed that. She had made him political, honed him into a strategist, but more than that, she had made him dangerous. Through her, he learned that war was not a matter of strength, but inevitability. Now that inevitability hung in the poisoned wind.

Even as certainty coiled through him, another truth gnawed at the edges of his focus. Somewhere beyond the pall of smoke and fire, his mate hunted, and with her, their son. It was war. No one was truly safe, and Gerwald had never been one to coddle strength, not in himself and not in those he loved. Instinct ran deeper than discipline, and the thought of their blood spilled on this cursed ground twisted something savage in his gut. He told himself they could fend for themselves. He told himself this was the way of their kind. Yet the growl simmering low in his chest was not only hunger for the kill, it was warning. If fate so much as brushed against them, the battlefield itself would drown in ruin.

Then came the voice that stopped him cold.

<<“Do not die.”>>

Naedira Darcrath .

Her presence slid into his mind like smoke through a crack. It was warm enough to temper his rage, yet sharp enough to ignite it in the same breath. His jaw clenched, teeth bared in a grin.

<<Not today, ást mín.>> he answered in the silent language of the bond. <<They will choke on every inch of this grave they’ve walked into.>>

<<First stage of sabotage complete… We'll move one floor at a time. If they access the databases, they'll be in for a surprise... Let their communications eat themselves from the inside.>>

A low, feral laugh rolled from his throat.

<<Keep the surprises coming. When I'm done here, there won't be enough left of them to remember their own names.">>

The world shifted before he could draw another breath.

The storm broke.

The Lord of Hunger emerged like a revenant, trailing malice and mockery. Lightning spat from his fingers, black as venom, splitting the air in three jagged tongues. Darth Caedes caught it like a god amused by mortal tricks, folding the storm into his palm until it writhed and changed color: black bleeding to white, then to a livid green that hissed as it crawled across his arm. Gerwald felt it roll off him in waves, tasting of rot and ozone, feeding the ritual like marrow sucked from bone. Glyphs blazed under Caedes’ boots, the scent of scorched air coiling through the wind as his laughter threatened to fracture the silence.

Then came the command, barked like a brand:

“Dread Wolf, see that our guest is adequately entertained.”

It grated against him more than the weight of armor or the stink of blight. Orders from another’s mouth felt wrong. Profane. Srina Talon and Naedira Darcrath, those names were etched into him like runes scored in blood and loyalty. Their voices were law. Their will was a lodestone in the maelstrom. Anyone else was a shadow, a pretender draped in command like a borrowed cloak. Gerwald moved because the battle demanded it, and because the kill promised release, not because Caedes’ call carried any rightful claim. A growl coiled low in his chest, rumbling through clenched teeth as a reminder to himself and to the Force, the Wolf followed no leash but the one he chose.

Then her presence slid against his mind like a blade sheathed in silk. Jasmine and rain, cool steel cutting through ozone and ritual heat.

Srina Talon .

<<Handle it cleanly. You are not here for him. You are here for me.>>

His breath slowed. His answer was a single word, carved from iron and inevitability.

<<Always.>>

He leapt. A black shape tearing skyward, muscles coiling like steel springs as his hands found the haft of his hammer. For an instant, it seemed as though the Wolf would clear the distance in a single bound, but gravity seized him mid-arc, dragging the beast earthward with ruinous force. He landed like judgment, and the hammer came down.

The world did not break. It screamed.

Stone and ash tore apart like flayed sinew, jagged fissures racing outward in a serpentine frenzy from the hammer’s impact. The shockwave rippled like a living thing, peeling the earth into gaping wounds as it surged toward The Lord of Hunger with relentless hunger. Each crack vomited heat and the stench of burning rot, and from the depths, a dull crimson glow flickered like the heartbeat of something buried far below. Whispers spilled upward with the heat, curling through the smoke in fractured syllables that clawed at the mind like chains dragging through darkness or teeth grinding on bone. Chunks of earth buckled and tumbled into the widening maw, vanishing into molten veins that pulsed like arteries feeding some unseen beast.

For a heartbeat, the ground was no longer a battlefield. It was a threshold.

And then he felt it like a tremor in his bones and static rippling under his skin. It was the cold realization that the pit was not empty. Something old and hungry stirred in the black beneath, woken by blood and fury. Its presence pressed upward, sluggish at first, then with a rhythm like a war drum beating from the depths. The stench of grave-dust slithered through the rising heat, and with it came the faint, brittle sound of bone shifting against stone. A growl rumbled in Gerwald’s throat, not in fear, but in recognition. Whatever climbed toward the surface did not belong to life.

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

V A E
V I C T I S

Engaging: Augustus Von Strauss

Gerra Alone
​

From behind and above, the hovering gunship let loose a volley of maser cannon fire, while concentrated beams of energy shot forth from their wing-mounted positions. The other two ships were still circling; their assistance was coming, but not soon enough.

In the air, a chasing fighter dogged a troop transport until it shot it from the sky, laser cannons ripping the shuttle apart until it exploded in a fireball. A lone figure plummeted from the shuttle's open bay, just before the explosion.

He fell down, hands extended, robes flapping about him, golden alchemical armor gleaming, a massive Sith warblade in one hand. Drawing upon the Dark Side, he angled his fall, plummeting hundred of feet, the air ripping past him. Below him hovered a gunship.

The Sith aimed straight for it.

Slowing his momentum with the Force, he still landed with a monumental crunch, heavy boots stamping upon the top of the gunship, just behind the cockpit. Something twisted in his leg and he hissed out a grunt of pain, but this was Hasuras na-Gerra, Chosen of Vahl, gene-warrior of the Vahla, and he would show no weakness.

Seizing his warblade in two hands, he drove the alchemized golden steel straight through the cockpit below him and drug it along with a horrific squealing of metal, then he jammed a hand inside and let loose a volumetric blast of crackling blue lightning that could be seen by all on the battlefield below, flashes of white-blue sparking - capable of cooking men alive and frying instruments.

He would slaughter every one aboard this vessel, then move to the next.

Gerra roared into the wind as the lightning spilled from his gauntleted fingertips.

Perish, you dogs.

 

[Seraphina Pryde]

Location: Shoengen - Brosi
Thread Objective: Storm the Tower
Mission Objective: Activate the signal beacon.
Allies: Tova Zyl
Enemies: Lysander von Ascania Lucette Madrona A’Mia

"Mission plan doesn't now include going after that thing right Knight-Sergeant? I pride myself on bringing down some pretty big stuff, but I think orbital bombardment is just what that thing is calling for," Tova smirked as the landing craft continued to its destination.

“Understood, Firecracker. And no. That...thing is not our immediate concern.” Seraphina replied to the much smaller woman while the monster’s titanic form became smaller within the viewport as the gunship opened the distance. Still, in spite of the fact that the monster would likely not be relevant to their mission, a slight frown flickered across the Hapan’s features as she considered the ground forces tasked with capturing the Zinsian refineries. That beast—whatever it was—stood directly in their path and was liable to threaten not only the Imperator Corps formations, but also the objective itself.

Should the beast destroy the processing plants in its rampage, the forces tasked with capturing those facilities would have been deployed planetside for nothing.

Nevertheless, Seraphina glanced away from the viewport and set her attention elsewhere—re-reviewing the mission briefing material to ensure that everything was set in place. Before long, the beast was naught but a shadow in the distant horizon, with the Mega-Tower soon looming taller than the beast had. At that point, Seraphina made herself ready, drawing her curved lightsaber hilts from their place on her belt as the gunship dipped into a descent and made for the designated landing zone.

“Whisper, I need you with us too. You’re going to be on point with the signal beacon.” Seraphina said to the Mirialan comms specialist, referring to the woman by her call sign, rather than her name.

With that, the gunship lurched to a halt, hovering just over a street only a couple klicks away from the Mega-Tower. Seraphina led the way forward, extending her preternatural senses as the stormtroopers spread out to form a perimeter.

“Firecracker and Whisper, on me!” Seraphina called out to the two women. A high-pitched whistle and a cheerful beep sounded out from behind, coaxing the Knight to turn around, catching sight of the cylindrical form of the squad's designated fire support, accompanied by a towering security droid armed with a flamethrower.

Seraphina allowed herself a faint smile.

“BT-7 and KX-88, both of you can come too.”

At that point, Seraphina started for the Mega-Tower, expecting everyone else to follow her.

The team had barely covered a kilometer before the ground betrayed them.

Fissures spidered across the street, and then suddenly erupted. Chitinous limbs burst from the earth as a swarm of grotesque insectoids surged upward in a tide of wings and mandibles. Giant wasps, skeletal centipede-things, and shrieking hornets the size of adult hounds filled the air in a plague of shrill, discordant motion, advancing in a wave of stingers and claws.

“BT-7 and KX-88, flamers now! Take out those wasps!”

Seraphina acted immediately, lightsabers igniting to reveal disc-shaped silver-hued blades. With a sharp grunt, she launched them through the air one after the other, spiraling outward in streaks of silver light.

The first blade cleaved through the thorax of a charging hornet, slicing it clean in half at a diagonal. Its severed body cartwheeled midair, ichor trailing behind in a mist of steam and acidic smoke. The second disc followed a sharp upward arc, shearing the wings off a second hornet in a burst of sparks before circling back and carving a deep furrow through its head.

Seraphina called the blades back in an elegant arc, only to launch them once more. The third hornet was bisected lengthwise, its two twitching halves flopping wetly onto the asphalt, sizzling on contact. The final target—a hornet darting towards Whisper—was intercepted by a returning chakram, which ricocheted with a ringing hum from a broken landspeeder and sank into the creature’s thorax before arcing back into Seraphina’s hand.

Seraphina gave a sharp breath, her ears ringing as the air shrieked with wings. More would come.

But she stood ready to strike them down.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Seraphina Pryde’s Battle Suit
• Seraphina Pryde’s Lightsabers
• G-2 Imperial Standard Blaster
  
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
  • Ammunition
    
    • Power Cell (4)
• NZ All-Purpose Viral Suppressant Type II
• Infrared Smoke Grenade (2)
• FAE/MDE-01-S1 Semiautonomous Seeker Thermal Explosive (2)
• FAE/MDE-02-S1 Semiautonomous Seeker Concussion Explosive (2)

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
OBJECTIVE I: STORM THE TOWER

"Your cortisol levels have spiked again. I recommend slower breathing if you're trying to live. Having all of you die will ruin the test results, I no longer need bodies... You all did that work for me."

Ronhar had never heard a more irritating, more grating voice in his life than the one that was projecting itself throughout his helmet. He thought about the exact way he would kill its owner once he found them. Shooting? Stabbing? Strangulation? Yeah, that last one sounded good to him.

"Focus up!", Ronhar thought to himself as he proceeded forward. Now was not the time to let his mind wander. He had a job to complete, and he was going to see it through no matter what. Still, he had to wonder if the aggression that he was feeling was a side of effect of the injection he had taken, or just a part of the normal stresses of combat.

Not that anything about this was normal, of course.

"Thus concludes this first test, results are looking steady. I will keep an extra eye on those who took the injection, with all these perfect samples I had more than enough time to make a sister strand. Different in its genetic mold, I wonder who will be first to pop!"

"Ignore it", Ronhar commanded to his men, "and keep moving forward."

Straight ahead, a door slammed open, inviting Ronhar and his men inside. Clearly the voice was not only inside their comms but also the facility itself, as it herded the Imperials to an unknown destination. Slowly and purposely, Ronhar and his Storm Commandos continued their advance.

The particles that they had previously encountered were growing increasingly thicker, and had seemed to now be coating the walls of the facility. A thin layer of flesh covered anything technological, as if the room itself had somehow come alive. Ronhar noticed a camera in the corner watching them...quite literally, in fact, since it seemed to have sprouted a large eyeball where its lens would be.

Ronhar was suddenly exceptionally aware of his own cybernetic limbs, and just how vulnerable he in particular might be.

"Signatures detected, infected are actively stalking your location. Lethal force advised of course... Careful your own technology doesn't become infected, can you imagine your respirator producing spores? I wonder what will happen to the captain you all rely on so much, tainted by your own creation and even his cybernetics turn against you? Actually, thinking on it I really would love to see that now.. Carry on, but be advised that subject zero two is starting to show some interesting vitals. Hands shaking, zero two?"

Next to Ronhar, Sergeant Jordmil Broklis suddenly began shaking uncontrollably, as if he had lost all physical functions in his hands.

"I...I can't stop shaking, sir!", Broklis exclaimed rather alarmingly. "I can't stop it!"

"Calm yourself, Sergeant!", Ronhar replied, placing his own hand on Broklis's shoulder. "You need to remain calm, this voice is trying to get inside your head. Hey, isn't time you took your anti-virals? Here, you can have mine."

Ronhar unclipped his spare anti-viral injection and handed it to the hapless sergeant.

"But sir", Broklis protested, "what about you? You need this just as much as I do!"

"I already took my injection in the other room, remember", Ronhar replied, trying his best to soothe the sergeant's nerves. "I'll be fine, don't you worry. Plus, my cybernetics give me much increased resistance to any sort of infections. Take it."

Whether or not that last part was true, Ronhar was not entirely sure. But still, he had been willing to take the gamble.

"Very well, sir", Broklis responded somewhat hesitantly. He took Ronhar's injection and stabbed himself with it. His hands continued shaking, as it would take a few minutes for the drugs to kick in.

"Thank you, sir", Broklis said meekly. Ronhar could only imagine just how panicked he must have been.

Suddenly, Ronhar heard a sort of gargled screaming, getting closer and closer to his location. Those must be the zombies that the voice had spoken of. Ronhar put away his blaster rifle and took out Burnblade, once again activating it.

"Weapons hot!", Ronhar called out.

Ha. How funny. If he died here, at least his last words would have been amusing pun.

The creatures surged forward, a horrifying mixture of flesh and metal. So this is what awaited them should they perish here today.

No way Ronhar was letting that happen.

He charged forward, blade in hand, to meet the creatures head on as his men provided covering fire...

TAGS:
Vakhari Lutris

FLEET ADMIRAL VORIN ZONILL
MIN COLLATERAL STAR
OBJECTIVE III: THE BATTLEFIELD IS CONSTANT CHAOS

Admiral Zonill looked in horror at the giant reptilian monster, watching as it rampaged across the battlefield. He didn’t know what it was or how it got there, but he did know one thing: that shield generator had to be destroyed as soon as possible!

“I’m afraid their isn’t much we can do for them at this point, sir”, Sellferr remarked gravely to Zonill.

“So it seems”, Zonill replied rather bitterly. If only he had seen this coming, he might have been able to save the lives on the men on the surface...

He steadied himself at his command console, more determined then ever to win the battle for space superiority.

"Status report, Captain?"

Captain Selferr took a quick look at his sensors, data streaming in from the reconnaissance flight of STX-TIEs.

“Sir, we’re receiving reports of unusual movement inside the asteroid field”, Sellferr remarked.

“Unusual movement?”, Zonill questioned.

Yes sir. It's not coming from us or our allies. Triangulating now...contacts detected!”, Captain Sellferr cried out as Zonill snapped back to the battle at hand. “Bearing 0 degrees, dead ahead! Multiple starfighters and capital ships inside the asteroid field! Squadrons 1 through 3 are moving to engage!”

Zonill nodded in confirmation. At last, the Sith had been revealed. Alarms blared throughout the bridge of the Collateral Star as all hands on deck reported to their assigned battlestations.

“Very well. Launch fighter bays 4 through 34. I want an Ackbar Slash through the middle of that asteroid field. We’ll break through the center and-“

“Admiral, I’m getting an incoming message from Admiral Squesha”, Captain Sellferr interrupted.

“Very well, Captain, let’s hear it.”

The bridge was filled with the voice of Quarren Admiral Squesha, as she began to speak:

"Admiral Zonil I need your support. I need your fleet to enter hyperspace on my mark. My interdictor will pull you out directly behind the asteroid field, where you should be able to target the unprotected rears of their ships with ease. My fleet will keep them busy."

“Acknowledged, Admiral. Standby for hyperspace jump.”

Zonill activated his commlink, messaging all the nearby ships in his fleet.

“This is Fleet Admiral Vorin Zonill to all ships. I want a hyperspace jump toward the close side of the planet. All ships, begin calculations and be prepared to jump on my mark.”

“Acknowledged, Admiral”, came the responses from the other ships.

Zonill braced himself on the command console. What Admiral Squesha was proposing he do was certainly effective but most definitely unpleasant. Being ripped from hyperspace was never a feeling Zonill would ever get used to, but he didn’t have the luxury of not doing it right now.”

“Calculations complete, sir. Standing by for your mark.”

“Acknowledged, Captain.”

Zonill once again activated his commlink, opening a direct line to Admiral Squesha, Admiral Rael and Admiral Rashul.

“This is Fleet Admiral Vorin Zonill, executing a Thrawn maneuver in 3…2…1…executing!”

With that, Zonill’s entire fleet suddenly made a jump to hyperspace. With any luck, they would come not out by Brosi, but instead just behind the asteroid field, and by extension, the Sith ships lurking within it.

Provided, of course, that the Interdictor did its job…

TAGS:
Squesha
Calin Rakel
Marlon Sularen
Lord Rasnuhl
Fiolette Yvarro
Darth Carnifex
Rowyna Galeway
​

---

---

---

​

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

• MIN Collateral Star -4,760m
  • 10 STX-TIE Squadrons (16 per squad)
  • 10 Z’Ceptor Squadrons (12 per squad)
  • 5 AX-Wing Squadrons (12 per squad)
  • 5 Y-Fender “Ugly” Starfighter Squadrons (12 per squad)
  • 5 Gnettocaro-class Starfighter Squadrons (8 per squad)
  • 5 TIE Bomber Squadrons (12 per squad)
  • 5 Lambda-class YT-1760 Annihilator Squadrons (4 per squad)
  • 5 NCE-131/c Heavy Dropship “Stork” Squadrons (4 per squad)
• Vilifier-class Star Destroyer x2 - 2,274m
  • 3 STX-TIE Squadrons (16 per squad)
  • 3 Z’Ceptor Squadrons (12 per squad)
  • 3 Y-Fender “Ugly” Starfighter Squadrons (12 per squad)
  • 3 Gnettocaro-class Starfighter Squadrons (8 per squad)
  • 2 TIE Bomber Squadrons (12 per squad)
  • 2 Lambda-class YT-1760 Annihilator Squadrons (4 per squad)
• Nebulon Fire-class Light Carrier - 388m
  • 2 Y-Fender “Ugly” Starfighter Squadrons (12 per squad)
  • 1 AX-Wing Squadron (12 per squad)
  • 1 NCE-131/c Heavy Dropship “Stork” Squadron (4 per squad)
• CR125 Corvette x3 - 675m
  • 1 Gnettocaro-class Starfighter Squadron (8 per squad)
  • 1 Y-Fender “Ugly” Starfighter Squadron (8 per squad)
  • 1 AX-Wing Squadron (8 per squad)

Spoiler: Fleet Summary

1. Admiral Vorin Zonill's Fleet comes out of hyperspace near Brosi. Admiral Zonill begins sending support craft to the surface of Brosi to assist Imperial forces. Some ships successfully land on the planet, untill a planetary shield activates, preventing the admiral from sending any additional ships planet side.
2. Admiral Zonill orders a sensor scan of the surrounding area, looking for Sith ships.
3. Admiral Zonill launches three squadrons of STX-TIEs toward the nearby asteroid field, hunting for signs of the Sith Fleet.
4. Contact! The Sith Fleet is located inside the asteroid field. The three squadrons of STX-TIEs in the asteroid field move in to engage.
5. Admiral Zonill is contacted by Admiral Squesha. Admiral Squesha proposes that Zonill's Fleet makes a short hyperspace jump away. Admiral Squesha will then use her Interdictor cruiser to pull Admiral Zonill's Fleet outside of hyperspace, right behind the asteroid field.
6. Admiral Zonill agrees to do so, and makes the jump to hyperspace.

 

[Revna Marr]

Allies: Darth Caedes // Srina Talon // Gerwald Lechner // Madrona A’Mia // Elmindra Xitaar // Zal Aditi
Mentioned: Spencer Varanin // The Lord of Hunger ​

Revna knew it would only be a matter of time before their enemy found them, once the battle had truly commenced. They had taken the necessary precautions to hide their presence for as long as possible, but she along with everyone else present knew that when the Dark Side was touched and called upon - it would become almost like a beacon to those in the enemy ranks that may be able to sense the Force. She just hoped and prayed that their discovery would go unnoticed for as long as possible, so they could set in motion the work that they needed to do.

But then she felt the Force shift around them and something felt…wrong to her. Her gaze narrowed as they shifted with heightened alertness to the surroundings around them. Something, far above their heads, was coiling insidiously. Fiery eyes shifted to Srina, to Gerwald who was further beyond still. Then, suddenly, a figure seemed to materialize out of the shadow of the Empress herself. For a heartbeat, there was a tight tension that coiled within Revna as her body reacted, prepared to lend any form of aid to the Echani woman, should she need it. But it appeared that whoever the newcomer was, she already knew. The two had a brief interaction, before the other woman vanished as if she had never been there at all, leaving the four of them together once more. There was a sigh, almost of relief, and then Revna turned her attention to the King once more.

Caedes lifted his eyes to hers and held them with an intensity that sent a shiver across her skin; as they maintained eye contact and spoke not through words but through body language, she saw his features morph and shift as he changed before their very eyes - dropping the facade of the youthful human male he preferred to wear in front of others, in exchange for who he really was underneath it all. Many might see a monstrous, scared figure with grayed skin that had been morphed by illness and radiation poisoning. Some might have been horrified or off put by the visage that now stared back at her - but Revna felt a faint smile curl at the corner of her lips as her eyes glimmered with pride, in him.

She knew how…difficult…it had been for Caedes to reveal his natural clawdite form before others, before her even. The rawness of his own self disgust he’d felt, the self-loathing, had been so powerful in the very beginning. She had met and challenged that with acceptance, with what she now knew as the emotion others called love. She had told him in the very beginnings of their bonding, that she didn’t want him to ever feel like he needed to hide from her, for any reason. And now, here, it seemed that he would be as he was, with her…while they faced war together.

A tremor of that profound emotion she didn’t quite have words for flickered across the tether of her bond to him. She didn’t need to speak aloud what she felt, for she was confident that he would feel it and know. She hoped it provided strength for him, especially as he opened himself to the deep well of the Force, allowing the dark power that flowed in and all around to fill him. Revna felt it too, the cold chill of the Darkness as it wrapped itself around her like a lover’s embrace - she didn’t resist it as it began to seep into her from all around. For a brief moment, Revna let her eyes flutter shut as she drank in the volatile mix of emotions and negative imprinted energy that saturated Brosi. There was so much pain here, so much suffering; fear, anger, desperation, hopelessness. It was all fuel to feed the Darkness, and she let that fire burn. This was where the petite, raven-haired woman found herself at home: connected and one with the Dark Side.

But there was something else that began to pour into the negative energy of Brosi, something that stirred the monster that lurked within her: Death.

So much of it…both old and fresh. It was the fresh death that awakened the Void within her, a sharp spike of hunger that made her suck in a breath as if she’d just been punched in the chest. The temptation to feed was almost overpowering for her - but the little Sith woman managed to dampen the urge, at least for the moment.

"…I am here…If you have need of me." Came Srina’s voice, whisper soft against Revna’s ears. A comfort, a mention of aid should she need it from the Dread Mother. Thank you. If I have need, I will let you know - was all Revna responded back with, through the connection between their minds.

Just then, Caedes called to her, his expression dizzy from the onslaught of sheer power he was channeling, and Revna opened her now fire-bright eyes and moved closer towards him as if drawn like a moth to flame. If she could focus on the task at hand, then she could ignore the Void for now.

Her eyes, her attention, flitted from Caedes to the large seed held so tenderly in his grasp - almost as if it were a child, instead of a fibrous husk. It would be the focus of their attentions, of the ritual to take place.

That was until Revna felt another shift in Force, another sense of wrongness. Of…imminent intrusion. At the same moment, Caedes spoke to Srina and to Gerwald, calling attention to whatever or whoever dared to interrupt them.

Another figure suddenly emerged, seeming from a portal of some sort - and everyone present turned their attention to this intruder. A tall figure, armored, powerful in the Force - though something else about him prickled at the back of her mind as she felt him through her expanded senses in the Force...something almost familiar - a flicker of...need, of... hunger. For a moment, Revna was curious about who this was, but she pushed aside her ever present curiosity as a dark shadow passed across her face.

Whoever this was…did not seem like they were here to aid them.

The figure spoke, labeled them all minor inconveniences, which almost drew a scoff from Revna. The only minor inconvenience here amongst the other three powerhouses of the Sith Order was herself, and she had never been one to turn tail and run from a fight, even if the odds were against her. Still, she knew it would be wiser for her to let the others handle this inconvenience.

And that is what she did, even as the intruder summoned power and fired black arcs of Force lightning in their directions. Revna held no fear in her heart, though she prepared herself to take the onslaught of power. Thankfully, she didn’t have to feel its biting power, for Caedes moved with swiftness - using his power in the Force to catch the stray bolts and call them back to him - where the caught the power, though the strength of it made him stagger. The black arcs of lightning coiled around Caedes’ one hand and forearm, and he seemed almost enraptured by the sparks that danced within his grasp. Almost absentmindedly, he bid Gerwald Lechner to entertain their guest - and Revna watched in growing awe as the enemy’s power, meant to harm or destroy, was instead transformed into an eldritch green flow of power that could be used for their ritual.

How...gracious of their enemy! It was enough to make her smile with dark glee.

The Force swelled as the Dark Side continued to grow in potency and power; the lightning responded, seemed to grow more erratic as it sparked off the King’s form to ground itself on various objects nearby. Caedes whispered his thoughts, his designs, for the power - first to the seed, then to Revna when he lifted his eyes back to hers.

She felt his intentions a moment before he flicked his wrist, casting the green beam of lightning towards both her and Srina. Revna caught the bolt in her hand, felt the weight of its sheer power, and let it flow through her as if she was a conduit for the electrical charge. Ghostly green arcs danced around her hand, her fingers, wrapped around her own arm - and as if responding to her own power, the green hue shifted and darkened to a deep reddish-violet hue that was the hallmark of her own Sith lightning when she summoned it.

Caedes held the seed aloft between them, and both he and the object became the center of Revna’s focus. Everything else around them was secondary, though she did not lose the sharp edge to her alertness. But she knew she didn’t need to worry about the enemy in their midst, for her knew that the Emperor’s Executioner would be more than capable of handling the issue, and any others that may arise.

The King, eyes wide with zeal and fervor, filled to the brim with the power of the Darkness and the essence of ritual, urged them to feed the seed once more. Revna closed the distance between them and as she reached up with her power-filled hand, she paused just for the briefest of moments to catch his eyes - before she settled her fingers ever so gently on the husk of the seed, just opposite to where Caedes was holding it. They both poured heir energy, their power, into the seed…to feed it, to spark the start of new life. It took them both, working in unison - to do this. Revna urged more power to flow through her, pulling on it from all around her, channeling it into this precious seed of new beginnings - even while in the midst of chaos, carnage, and death.

The symbology of what was transpiring was not lost on her, and she did not hide that understanding from her beloved. She let him see her thoughts, her mind, on that matter - even as they both continued to feed the Seed of Psilofyr.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Lor'Vekka //: Delsin Shaw //:
//: Objective 1 //:

<<I always see you, child mine…Let none diminish the warrior you have become. Offer our enemy the same courtesy they have provided to us—No mercy.>>

The young princess' heart swelled, emboldened for the battle to come. The words were more true than Srina could have ever known. Quinn remembered the stares, the acid in the air. Peace would forever be a lie.

How unfortunate.

Quinn thought quietly as the Twi'lek Inquisitor emerged. Neither her attack nor Delsin's had phased the woman in the slightest. The Princess watched, expression unreadable, as the chairs were hurled aside with casual disdain.

It wasn't often she stood across from someone she'd once met under more civil circumstances. Usually, it was the reverse, and it always came with that inevitable whisper of what if.

And still, that thought clung to the back of her mind now.

What if they hadn't crossed paths again? What if she could've shown Lor'Vekka that not all Sith were monsters? What if she could have made her believe that Quinn Varanin was the true Empress this galaxy needed?

But what-ifs weren't useful now. The storm had already arrived.

Quinn tilted her head. "He's not my subordinate," she said coolly. "He's my equal."

To outsiders, that might sound strange. But to Echani — to warriors — it meant something. Delsin wasn't just an ally. He was her match: in battle, in blood, and in spirit. His family would forever carry the privilege of calling Varanin kin.

Her tone darkened. "My father is not the false Emperor." Anger surged in her chest, rising with every breath.

"He has ruled longer than your Empress, who cowers behind soldiers and shadows. Where is she now?" Quinn's voice rose, her arms lifting as if to challenge the room itself.

"What makes you worthy to judge him? I came to you in peace. And all the while, you smiled... and plotted this."

She turned her gaze fully on the Inquisitor, unblinking. A shame. In another life, they might have stood on the same side.

But this one? Lor'Vekka had chosen servitude to a woman too afraid to lead from the front. A ghost Empress sending others to die in her name.

"I suppose I'll have to show you how a real Empress leads." Her voice softened — almost regretful. "Even if you die, I won't forget you, Inquisitor."

The words echoed like a prophecy. A moment later, the room trembled. The walls quaked. Discarded furniture and wall-mounted plaques shivered where they lay and then surged toward the Inquisitor in a violent storm of Force-fueled telekinesis.

Quinn didn't expect it to kill her. She expected her to endure.

And she wanted to see exactly what kind of power Lor'Vekka possessed.

 

[Delsin Shaw]

|| Objective I ||
|| Protect the Tower ||
|| Allies: | Quinn Varanin | ||
|| Enemies: | Lor'Vekka | ||
|| Equipment: | Armor | Mask | Ring | Sword | Energy Blade | ||
|| Theme ||
​

The shade, an individual hidden in the force, revealed themselves rather quickly after force and debris was thrown her way. A Lethan Twi’lek that had much of her face obscured from me. The lower face hidden in a mask, but Lekku hanging out. What surprise me, was they resorted to, of all things right now, talking. Speaking words back and forth of knowing one another. A scoff had escaped my lips as the Inquisitor spoke of me being a subordinate. Of course it could entirely be possible, but that was not the case. The assumption only gave me power in what knowledge would stem between us in the conflict. She believed me lesser than to Quinn.

Surely in beauty, yes. Quinn had a much more desirable figure than myself. However, I was not lesser in combat, skill, or knowledge. We each had different strengths that complimented one another very well. Knowing this, I continued to entertain the talking these two had. My hand resting upon the grip of the blade. Waiting. Watching. Quinn even directly speaking for me. Stating that I of all people was her equal. Which, for a moment, made me feel something deeper than I may have thought.

For now, that was pushed aside. Her words taunting over who was a false emperor, or empress. Leader or coward. Even pointing directly out how the Inquisitor would always lie, cheat, and deceive in order to gain the upper hand. Final words spoken soft, but with a clear intent. I waited no more.

Before her hands even lifted to create a maelstrom of debris and a localized tornado of furniture, I already had my sword drawn. Lightning coursing through my veins and sending me rocketing across the distance in a mere single step. My feet landed not on the floor, but upon the ceiling above the woman. My strength over Quinns aptitude for the force was speed. She was much stronger with Telekinesis than I. She was more easily able to manipulate the force to increase her power as a Sorceress. I was much more inclined as a fighter. A warrior of the sword and saber.

She wielded the Lightning. She threw the power of the force as if her very fingers could touch through all dimensions. I, was the breaker of such things. A single thread from the tip of my blade to the top of the woman’s head. I could see the thread in which connected the two. And the point in which one would direct a strike to end the fight, right here, right now.

Yet another flash of lightning. Crossing the distance before the eye could close to blink. My blade screaming to bisect the Twi’lek from head to toe. Down straight from the ceiling into the center of the storm.

 

[Xeykard]

Hacks | Allyson Locke Naedira Darcrath | Narantuyaa Asther | Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory | HACK(S) PROGRESS: 10%
​

He had seen Hacks work only once before, and only briefly. The problem that faced them now was a proper challenge -- Hacks' body went still, her mind fled elsewhere. He imagined it was not unlike a Jedi's meditation; he could feel her presence, and yet knew her focus was deep in the earth. Her return, then, was a surprise, a sudden snap as she reached a conclusion.

An attack. She burned out, found her footing once more in the material. "So be it," he said. "To the next, then."

His mind, too, had been elsewhere. He had opened his senses, breathed deep, measured the flow of the air, the way sound rounded each corner. The machines she dealt with regularly were ones he did not understand, but most were the same -- power hungry, placed deliberately. Once more he led Hacks further, this time up several levels. In time, he cut down a door into a larger administrative office; their loneliness now cured by new fellows.

The dead shambled, some faster, some slower, about in a mockery of the work that was supposed to take place here. The security turrets in the corridor out of the room had boxed them in; so several dozen now milled about, until the pair's arrival. They turned, intentions bare.

"Get to work," he snapped. "No harm will come to you. Remember: destroy that which cannot be used."

Were he a sorcerer of some kind, he may have turned the dead slaves of the Sith to his will, but Xeykard's strength had only particular applications. Whether they were interested in him or Hacks, he could not say; he did not wait to find out. His saber ignited, and his brutal work began.