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

[Velda Nar-Donna]

​

WEARING: Black Obsidien Sith robes with some armor underneath.

WEAPONS: 2x Lightsabers and The Dark Side

TAG: Barragh Nenn

OBJECTIVE 1: STORM THE TOWER!!​

And so, his calculated chicanery, just as she had meticulously anticipated before, erupted into being.

It allowed precious little time for a direct counter to the violent Force Burst he had hurled her way. Yet, through years of honed Force Absorption, she managed to critically lessen its devastating impact. Her armored form, concealed beneath her flowing robes, absorbed the brutal brunt of the remaining force.

She was thrown violently backward, propelled toward the very door the Umbaran so desperately wished access to.

Through an act of precise Force control, she dictated her descent, landing lightly on her feet directly before the door. She stood now, poised, just beside the limp, lifeless body of the guard who had failed to slice his way inside earlier.

Her piercing attention snapped back to the shuttle for a mere flicker of a moment. Through the Dark Side's cold embrace, she felt the unmistakable surge of an incoming attack, hurtling from its sleek form.

This time however, she stood utterly prepared.

As the shuttle's blasters began to spit their searing fury, she instantaneously conjured a Force Barrier, completely invisible, shielding both herself and the unyielding door.

The volleys from the shuttle hammered against her unseen defense, unrelenting in it's onslaught. Once more, an eerie, ethereal fog began to coil inward, obscuring vision of the chaotic scene as the plasma shots continued. Brilliant flashes of light erupted violently within the deepening mist, starkly announcing the brutal impact of each plasma bolt against the impenetrable barrier.

While this savage assault raged, a foreboding, malevolent cloud began to coalesce and churn directly above the tower, a swirling vortex of darkness that seemed destined solely for this isolated roof.

Abruptly, the volleys from the shuttle's blasters seemed to halt. One could only speculate the cause; perhaps the weapons had finally overheated. But the fog lay thick and suffocating, and an unsettling, profound silence descended upon the tower's roof.

With the Force Barrier now dissolved, its purpose brutally served. Velda glanced down and to her left, her gaze fixing on the dormant, dead guard. The spectral fog now drifted lazily, caressing his form, already rotting beneath his armor.

Through the Force, she called upon the corpse. Not for voice. But with cold, absolute thought, in High Sith.

Is ri isatri zûtawohnasi diu hadzuska ruai, Nu riyikrauti uynsutu ri winasi tutiti; kots ri titsintuké dzara anas mirji ani zûtasosûtirmyini arika, diâ na ri nimyi waria iw ri Tsis, snamsi ani irartsa ir ki command—rise datar, ncuysti satyijau'ira, mirji sas jina'tis, warkijsi ir tu'iyia uda, isatru dorwohnamsi ir ri sosûtudorjazia nirtsi âti kûts diâ wazatsa.​

And with a solitary muscle twitch, then another, then a grotesque third, the undead guard began its horrifying reanimation. And It slowly, unnaturally, crept to its feet.

Nu dzuontai j'us an kirazi jiso ditra.​

With this final chilling pronouncement of thought, the undead ghoul turned, its gait a horrific shambling motion, and lurched forth, emerging from the swirling fog. It set its unholy course, heading directly for its target, consumed by the sole, ravenous intention of consuming his very soul.

Now, as the pervasive fog slowly began to thin and dissipate, and the malevolent clouds rolled and churned ominously above the tower in its place. She regarded the distant shuttle through the last lingering tendrils of mist.

And through the Force, the very heavens themselves answered her silent, infernal siren call. Lifting a single finger, four colossal bolts of lightning, forged in the clouds overhead from the four cardinal directions – North, South, East, and West – connected with devastating force. They converged, then plunged as one massive, scarlet bolt from the sky, striking the shuttle. It erupted in a blinding, violent explosion.

She then stepped forward from the rapidly fading fog, emerging fully into view. Her eyes remained fixed, watching the ghoul close the distance, its very being hungry for flesh and the life's blood it craved.

 

[Bastard]

The Bastard stood impassive in the streets as a wave of rushing force erupted from the Mega-Tower behind him. He raised a gauntleted hand and met the onset of psionic power with his own willpower. His Gray Cloaks turned away from the battle entirely, the echani's wishes declared in the same gesture to have shielded them. They charged to reinforce the other two streets of the embattled intersection. With one corner blockaded by the fallen starscrapers, the Bastard found a break in the overwhelming tide of the enemy.

"An Imperial Knight with a Sith Sword? Color me impressed."

"This wretched thing is nothing of consequence," the Bastard's monotone drawl echoed easily over the plaza as he strode closer to the masked warrior. "The lowliest of their order die by the dozens beneath such fell things."

A presence nearby momentarily drew the Bastard's attention. Intimately familiar. His gaze rose to to the gaping hole in the side of the building above, the very same one Delsin tumbled out only seconds before. A small smile crept along his hardened features, transforming the blood splattered warrior into the picture of joy.

"Bewitched, are you?" the Bastard paused a dozen paces from Delsin. The black blade hefted up between them in preparation to kill. "By coin or by my sister's magics?"

The figure before him bore no presence of any discernible state. Their gear presented the essence of a warrior, no doubt, but the Bastard saw nothing of any personal significance. Anonymity meant a great deal to them. It shielded their mind from even the Black Knight's sensory abilities. The smile remained nonetheless. He was pleased with the chance to wound the accursed Sith Lineage in any capacity, be it the Princess herself or her pet.

With a wave of his offhand, the Bastard lifted dozens of pieces of debris birthed in the shattered buildings behind him. He thrust the same hand forward and a storm of duracrete and durasteel roiled past him, racing for the armored warrior. A second wave of the detritus shot overhead a second and a half later. It arced downward as if to rain upon an entrapped enemy.

The Bastard remained affixed in place, his gaze sweeping over each and every moment of his foe.

---

Tags: Delsin Shaw | Quinn Varanin

 

[Spirit of Korriban]

J E N' A R I
O B J E C T I V E III

T H E
W A L K I N G
D E A D

Augustus Von Strauss Hasuras Na-Gerra
Tagged By Request: Revna Marr Madrona A’Mia Srina Talon Gerwald Lechner Elmindra Xitaar​

Grey figures stumbled out from between houses. They shambled in the direction of Augustus and his infantry. More came out to fill the roads. A thin line of them, led by an ashen fleshed woman wearing a one piece spacer suit, shambled ahead of the rest. Her left arm was missing and her jawless face turned as a single voice rang out above the surrounding tumult of starship engines and moaning corpses.

"Open fire!"

Blaster-fire erupted and split the lines of approaching undead. Gore rocketed into the air. Arms and legs thrashed as bodies started to drop. The horde churned, faster now, their shrieks and calls alerting the others to the presence of imminent food.

A once-business executive, dressed in an expensive albeit soiled tailored suit was the first to meet with the E-Web's hammering rounds. His body was blown apart, followed by another corpse behind, wearing only a pair of thin running shorts. The heavy gunnery decimated pale flesh and carved corridors into the swarm. Smoking bits of organic material hurled up through the air, painting mom and pop shops along the street-sides in smoking viscera.

Blundering forward, the mob hissed. They began to move more quickly now, led by able bodied corpses which sprinted ahead of the rest, eager to feast. In a carnal follow-the-leader style parade, the rest began to accelerate in kind. They surged, overtaken by primal urges. Clogged alleyways spilled forth new bodies, choking streets and side passages, disgorging the undead from subway tunnels and the city's lower levels. Scantily aimed blaster-fire took some in the legs, collapsing Jen'ari beneath the onslaught to be trampled by those behind them in the dinner rush. They moved like liquid upturned from a bucket, splashing against apartment buildings and grocery stores as they poured forth from around corners, crushing and clambering over their own in an attempt to taste Imperial flesh.

Behind the horde, standing statue-still beneath the awning of a split-level residence, a singular Jen'koshū watched from the shadows...

Nearest to the troopers, one decomposing gentleman, gaping and with shattered teeth, looked up to follow the arcing line of an incoming CryoBan grenade. Oddly fascinated by the glinting object spinning through the air, he was overtaken by the fleshy avalanche behind him and trampled to a paste just before its detonation. Supercooled chemicals erupted over the salivating crowds, interrupting the clatter of feet atop road pavement and freezing entire bunches into place. First one explosion, then more as the other hurled grenades found the hordes' front line and exploded. The undead pushed past, filtering through clumps of their frozen brethren at a momentarily slowed gate.

Maser-fire opened up to split the clogged streets like razor-blades lancing boils, spilling pus and sickness onto sidewalks. Spurting lines carved holes in the zombie's approach, hailing from the gunship's heavy cannons all of the way down into the thickest parts of the horde. Chests exploded, arms were torn off, legs disintegrated. Undulating pockets opened up as swathes of Jen'ari experienced second death. More bodies replaced the fallen. More squirted their insides across the faces of those nearest as they, in turn, were torn down by sustained fire from heavy, military-grade weaponry.

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.

A deafening explosion spit black smoke into the air above the heads of the Jen'ari. Starfighters screamed past as their prey fell, the husk of a burnt out shuttle now careening towards the mass of undead below. The waiting Jen'koshū watched in silence as the felled ship passed by overhead, coughing and trailing smoke before landing to crush its lesser minions. As it slid across the pavement it smeared the Jen'ari like a kid slapping jelly-paste onto a bucco bread sandwich, finally screeching to a stop in the middle of a shopping mall parking lot. The dead pounced, covering the ship like flies, unyielding even as fire and secondary explosions burned them through and made them into charcoal husks, dropping them back down to the pavement. Returning its focus to the battlefront, that same Dreadlord watched again, in silent curiosity, as the Vahla sky-warrior landed atop the offending Imperial gunship and began to tear it down. The trooper's offensive stuttered, yet the Dreadlord had already seen enough. It reached out with its senses to gather the flocks of undead, linking its will to that of the Jen'ari hordes present here and assuming a more precise control over its chosen vassals. Such was the power of a Korriban Jen'koshū, gifted with the blessing of their King to move the masses as they would their own arms and legs.

All across the battlefront, the Jen'ari abruptly halted. The streets now ran with coagulated black fluids and heaping piles of bodies lay like carpets beneath the dead yet standing. They stood there, just out of firing range, watching as the Vahla tore Augustus' ship from the air. They gnashed and glared, but remained still at the safety of range. Left to their own devices, the Jen'ari would surely consume this meager prey—though at great cost to their acquired numbers. This Jen'koshū was a more artful being, however, still clinging to the pride of its past life as a Sith Lord, unwilling to achieve thoughtless victory through inefficient means. It watched on from behind quieted ranks of the dead as the gunship fell, coughing exhaust and chirping lightning, trailing smoke as it spiraled down to crash behind the enemy's cordoned lines. Fire mushroomed into the air.

BBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!​

For the space of a few heartbeats, the slaughter seemed to pause. Then, raising its gauntleted hand and reaching out with the Force, the Dreadlord issued its command.

The dead scattered. Like ants from a disturbed nest or hornets spilling forth from a hive knocked to the ground, they broke away and became random. Some ran towards the troopers, erratic and frenzied. Most turned to the surrounding buildings and charged. They shattered windows and poured in through the smoking holes blown through walls. They hid, snaking back around buildings and falling out of sight, swinging wide rather than taking the nearest path to their food. They spread out, finding cover and protecting themselves as they approached. They surged through abandoned living rooms and up through stacked-level buildings, bursting out from rooftop hatches and throwing themselves off of buildings in a rain of screaming bodies. Shrieking, they tossed themselves at the circling gunships, thudding against their metal hulls and trying to find purchase, covering viewports and blast shields, hanging from gunnery and mounted cannons. They burrowed like rats through the city's architecture below, weaving through back alleys and side streets, kitchens, store shelves, and backyards, nearing their enemy by means of cover. Alone, their fleshy onslaught was not equal to the superior firepower of Imperial troopers. However, with the guidance of the Jen'koshū, they became a coordinated menace, adapting and changing their tactics, removing themselves from wide open areas.

Spread yourselves... ​

Scurry into cover...​

Force their retreat... ​

Push them back, back, back... ​

Relish the savor of their fear...​

Consume... ​

 

[Barragh Nenn]

Location: Ore Conglomerate Mega-Tower rooftop
Allies: Imperial
Enemies: Sith; Velda Nar-Donna​

---

The Energy Sphere had been successful, in part. It had thrown his opponent backwards though she managed to land on her feet with some poise. Nonetheless she was now closer to the Blast Doors that he wished to access.

The Volley fired by the Shuttle was less successful. Blocked by an unseen barrier that Velda Nar-Donna had conjured the blasts from the laser canons flashed brightly as they were held at bay. To see the onslaught of firepower one might think that the Sith Lord might buckle however she held firm and then the canons ceased.

This Attack had preceded the mist that began to coalesce, coiling inwards and obscuring the natural spectrum of vision. It only served to force Barragh to switch to the ultraviolet spectrum again where the mist would become less an obstruction, more a distraction really.

All this said the Umbaran was not idle.

He'd step forward again the moment that the Shuttle ceased fire.

By the time the corpse of the Praetorian began to twist he'd moved closer only pausing when lightning bolts rained down from above causing the Shuttle to explode. The Blast caused Barragh to reel forward a step though he was quick to regain his foot. He'd look back over his shoulder to see the Lambda-Class in flames, a wreckage of debris and twisted steel.

She'd taken his transportation.

As his head came back to the fore, the amber that filled his gaze had flared implying a mix of power and focus.

The Ghoul, feral and hungry for flesh emerged from the thinning mist. It came at him, arms outstretched and fingers curled like claws in the remnants of the armor it had worn in life. It did not have far to move before it came within arms reach. As it closed there was a flash, the barest hint of crimson indicating plasma filament revealing itself before disappearing within the confines of the Shadowcloak again indicating a weapon. A thin line and the faintest hint of smoke would be apparent across the neck of the Ghoul, where the Praetorian armor was thinner to accommodate movement and the undeads movement would become sluggish before its head toppled from the shoulders and the body fell again, unmoving.

He'd step over the carcass of the ghoul, shuffling towards her as she came out of the receding fog.

With the distance between them declining rapidly he continued to move towards her, just like he had when she'd initially raised her lightsaber against him. He wondered if she would attempt to do so again…

"Sorcery."

…he recognized her control of the force as something more archaic. Lightning from the sky and raising the dead smacked of the eldritch. These powers were not things that anyone had seen insofar as to be considered regular or common.

Amber burned bright in his gaze, he took another step towards her. She wished to bar his passage but he was closer to the doors than he had been at the beginning and soon he would be closer still.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: 1 Hold the Tower
Equipment: Lightsaber - Sword - Dagger - Robes
Tags: Drystan Creed
--------------------------------------------

His lightsaber met the sword of His opponent and battered against it, but before He could move to work it out of the way or otherwise occupy it more than it already was with the floor it was sheathed. A rather odd and inadvisable maneuver to pull right at the start of their clash but if the strange man wanted to disarm himself so badly then He saw no reason to complain. Darth Strosius was content to end this meeting as swiftly as possible and with His opponent suddenly lacking a weapon while also taking some superficial damage in the process this shouldn't last long.

Darth Strosius shifted and pulled His blades back in preparation for another strike, without His opponent's sword in the way all He had to do was find a weak spot in the armor and exploit it. Evidently His sword and more than likely His lightsaber could cut through the armor if need be but aiming for less protected areas would be far more efficient. He spared a brief glance towards the man's neck and joints, where He knew armor tended to be lighter if present at all, but before He could move to make any other strikes He saw a fist barrel into His chest.

Even through His armor and robes He did feel the punch connect, the force of it and the relative surprise making Him briefly stumble back and lose the chance to press what advantage He had gained. Darth Strosius glanced down and glared at where He had been hit, a subtle throb of pain now blooming from His chest. Nothing was broken, courtesy of His armor, but there was a bruise. Just enough to incite Him into a rather brash and entirely reactive move that was devoid of His prior planning or considerations.

"You insolent cur!" Lightning arced from His fingertips and danced up the blade of His sword, raising it between the pair of them in the short distance that His stumble had made and leveling the tip towards His opponent before letting the bolt of lightning loose upon him despite their fairly close positions.

 

[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 hesitate in her attack, but the satisfying sizzle of plasma searing armor and flesh never came. Instead, PT-45 "COWL" shifted fast, too fast, and the red blade glanced off the reinforced plating with a sizzle, sparks dancing uselessly across the surface.

Then came the hit.

The voidpike smashed into her side like a landspeeder collision. Pain exploded across her ribs, most likely already blooming a bruise, her armor groaning beneath the impact, and she was thrown to the ground. A snarl tore from her throat, more feline than human, her fingers raking the ground as the Felacatian Acolyte slid back, catching herself with a sharp hiss.

She was up again before the dust settled. Breathing hard. Limbs trembling not from fear, but fury.

The Force was... wrong here. Slippery. Distant.

Good. She didn't need it.

Instead, she focused her emotions into a razor thin hyperfocus that would be incorporated into the natural strength and agility of the diminutive Felacatioan.

She felt the air shift a half second before Kasir Dorran lashed out, the force of the Sangnir's armored boot attempting to slam toward the Imperial soldier's ribs. By then, Soah was already in motion, slipping beneath the distraction like smoke curling through a fractured doorframe.

Her saber hissed low again, but this time it was no test, but a hunting slash, aimed for the gaps behind the knees of PT-45's armor, where servos whined and joints breathed. She didn't need a kill stroke, not yet. Just blood. Just a weakness.

They were circling him now. Predator and predator. She didn't need the Force to guide her anymore.

She had Kasir. And the rhythm of violence they shared was its own kind of tether.

 

[Viers Connory]

//: Obj 2 //:
//: CT-312 //: Tarre Priest //: Tales of the Rule of Two //:
//: Attire //:

Ships were fun. Viers had only been able to ride a few in her lifetime as she had preferred to use the portal system and network her Order had created. This network allowed her access to the netherworld and back to the living plane at a moment's notice.

Although a preferred method of travel, Viers found herself forgetting about the network and staying stuck behind the black wall for years longer than she needed to.

Thankfully, her memory delay caught up recently.

Landing hadn't been as exciting as taking off, but the cloth-wearing monk with a stick strapped to her back quickly followed the flood of troopers. She stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the others, like CT-312 — but she still seemed different from the likes of the Mandalorian. Another curious figure to be among the troopers. From the brochure, it made sense that they were a motley crew.

Viers ran out with the rest of them as she now found herself in the middle of the chaos. Her jaw dropped at the sheer size of Garza, alongside other crazy things she only ever saw in the holofilms. Excitement buzzed in her ears as she held open her hand, and the wooden stave came to her palm.

In an instant, the weapon felt the charge of her force influence. The hummed, glowed with the power of the force — making it as strong as the best Sith sword and as devastating as a lightsaber.

While the silent monk gawked over the Sith spawn, she listened to the small conversation between the Mando and the trooper who seemed to be in charge. Before she could mention walking through a portal, the pair, or just the Mando, blew something up. Viers nodded, her lips tight into a knowing grin. This was going to be a good day.

With the bits and bobs flying through the air, the Corellian raised her hand and blocked most of them with force from her companions. It was the least she could do for paying attention so late in the game.

"That was impressive." She grinned and gave the Mandalorian the thumbs-up of approval. Viers shook off the blast, trying to keep it cool as she moved closer to the depot's new front door.

"Do we have any idea what's in there or what we're looking for?"

 

[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 Kushute didn't work perfectly, but it worked enough, cocking the trooper's arm at a 90 degree angle as it hardened.
Jacen raised his Sunshot pistol and fired a quick burst of shots as the two combatants closed the distance between them. The shots went wide as the Pretender rushed back against Jacen, crashing into him and striking at him with a wrist-mounted vibro blade, causing him to drop the pistol, drawing a groan of irritation from him as he slashed wildly with the Shiva Knife at the man. as they clashed at a higher speed. The impact threw him to the side and he stumbled before he was able to put his feet back under himself.

With a helmeted sneer, Jacen re-activated his Ancile Shield and threw it forward, the energy disc detaching from it's generator and flying towards the trooper as Jacen re-engaged, charging forward with his knife ready to strike.

Behind him, from his seated position behind the pock-marked Kushute wall, Blackout 4 was on his Comms.

"This is Blackout, we need reinforcements. I say again, we need reinforcements. Enemy combatants are flanking the Shield Generator, and we are pinned down. We need reinforcements."

Finally a voice came over the radio,
"Copy, Blackout. We understand. Unfortunately, we are unable to provide reinforcements or allocate additional resources to your plight. We're cutting your communication to make way for pressing information, good luck Blackout, Command out."

The Sith trooper punched the wall in frustration, "4 to team," he started, seething, "we're on our own. They don't care."

They never cared.
Madelyn Lowe
​

 

[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

Boss B*tch

There were a number of things that, in times of tribal warfare, were never to be trusted. Standing quite nearly at the top of that list was not to ever jump over an enemy because of how much of you would be left exposed and vulnerable, not even just because of giving an enemy more areas to attack from but because changing the direction of your body in mid-air was quite a different beast than it was on the ground entirely. Sure, Braith wasn't jumping over Brent Warnel , but there was still an underlying understanding behind making the decision to leave the ground in the first place that she either needed to be certain that she'd make it through the attack unscathed or she needed to expect the potential that he'd figure out a way to turn things around on her. While there were certainly a couple of ways to make sure she'd keep her head, primarily because of the orbalisks that pinched tightly into almost every inch of skin on her body aside from her extremities, making sure that her spear found its mark was, admittedly, not something she ensure happened without a nearly perfect set of circumstances that mostly involved her not having been airborne in the first place.

She could feel herself grunt before she even heard it, much less realized she'd done it, when the tip of her spear struck his shield and started to divert away from the Mandalorian. The benefit of the span of time that'd passed by as she'd closed the distance between them for him was that he had enough time to figure out a way to react to her, time she didn't have now to make a snap decision on how to make sure she wasn't harmlessly brushed aside - a snap decision that was, as evident by the ease at which the man would've suddenly found it to push her weapon to the side became, to let go of her weapon. Retrieving it again, a weapon made by her own hands and laced with her own enchanted blood, would be trivial for her but it mattered more to her right now to press the offensive than it did to even think about the consequences of dropping the spear. While the spear flung wide, clattering as it struck the floor and wall, Braith turned at the waist, still moving in very much the same direction as she had been the entire time, so she could gesture out with her, now free, hand to unleash a mild telekinetic pulse from the tips of her fingers.

Braith, of course, had expected him to have followed up the defensive measure with a more lethal counter. What she hadn't expected was a completely harmless, in terms of potential for bodily harm, netgun being fired at her instead. She grinned, not because she thought this made things easier for her, but out of sheer admiration for choosing to do something she hadn't even considered. The force-empowered push wasn't anything special, something she thought would've been used to nudge up something like a dagger or smaller projectile, and, while it wouldn't actually do anything to him, it meant that the net wasn't going to be quite as effective as he'd hoped. Unfortunately for Braith, however, the time between having pushed with the force and his net being fired at her meant she didn't have any more time to react further to the projectile which promptly closed around the majority of her body, wrapping her around the arm she'd reached out with, much of her torso, and her right leg.

Darth Virelia , for her part, had capitalized neatly on this rapid exchange with a strike of her own against Warnel as he'd fired his netgun at Braith. There was something quite a bit more rewarding for being a bit more opportunistic, she supposed, but she'd lacked the patience to ever really keep herself from letting someone else set things up for her like she had for Virelia. The fight, at least for the next several minutes, would probably be theirs - she'd landed first on her side on the floor and secondly on her back against the wall when she'd landed. There wasn't much pain there from that, the orbalisks provided enough of a barrier between her hitting the ground and wall that she didn't need to even rely on her own natural healing factor to recover from any bruising that might've happened otherwise, but she was still relatively immobile. One free hand and an arm, sure, but that wasn't really much or helpful in reaching for the saberstaff that was trapped between her hip and the ground she was laying on.

While the Mandalorian and Sith started their dance it seemed Braith would be more preoccupied with righting herself in order to reach for the lightsaber she intended to use to cut herself free from the net that'd knocked her down.

 

[Vakhari Lutris]

Tag: Ronhar Tane

Much like how a pack operates, these infectious and feral creatures would try to operate under some level of tactics. With the handful that did charge ahead being both a test and an opportunity. The burning blade would cut them down with ease, yet the intense heat would agitate the spores nesting on the beast.

Ronhar's helmet lens would be met with a cloud of highly infectious spores that scurried to plant themselves somewhere.. That somewhere being Ronhar. Resting upon his armor and uncovered cybernetics, for now nothing seemed to happen.

While his lens was clouded, a lengthy tendril of wire and flesh would snatch one of the troopers, pulling them up and through an infested air way littered with teeth and corrosive juices.

. . . Subject . . . Zero - Four . . .

. . .

. . . Vital signs . . . Null . . .

. . .

Vakhari was sure to log that behaviour, along with keeping watch on Ronhar.

"Detecting more signatures, the hive has been agitated."

A ping appears on their HUDs.

"I've marked an emergency path."

The group had a choice once again, trust the strange woman talking in their heads.. Or fight through the swarm. If they decided to fight through the swarm, more casualties would be guaranteed. But what if they trusted her?

The choice grew in intensity as a hulking behemoth would begin to approach their location, the sounds of clicking growing louder as whatever iteration of these beasts stalking them drew in closer.

The marked exit would be a full sprint from their current location, a heavily armored security door that was running out of power, not long before its jaws shut for good.

​

 

[Brent Warnel]

TAGS: Braith Achlys Darth Virelia ​

Brent continued his spin, connecting with the spear and shoving it wide. But he expected resistance to this. He hoped this warrior would hold her weapon tight, not let it go, as he would've done. But she was not like him; she had more than just material weapons at her command, so she let her spear go, intending to react to him differently than he expected.

This caused Brent's footwork to speed up more than he wanted, and his upper body twisted more forcefully than expected. He was expecting resistance and used all his physical power to push that spear out wide, so it set him slightly off-balance with how easy it was to sweep it away. He followed through with his original plan; however, he continued his spin and fired his netgun. It made a popping sound as the net fired from it and arced toward Braith, impacting her and causing her to stumble to the ground.

Brent didn't think that would work, but his millisecond of joy at the Sith being tangled up was short-lived. His HUD screamed as the six-eyed warrior advanced on him faster than he could respond. A blast of invisible power hit him; his already precarious footwork broke. His two legs tangled, and he landed awkwardly on his side, his armor scraping against the ground as his momentum carried him unceremoniously to the floor.

"Not good," he grunted as he blink-clicked his jet-pack's activation power rune and let fly with his whistling birds from his vambrace. If he could rocket away down the hall and get some ground, he could stand back up and engage on more favorable terms, but if the six-eyed warrior had other tricks up her sleeve to keep him where he lay, he did not know. He needed an advantage while it was still a one-on-one, before Braith disentangled herself from his net.

 

[Lord Rasnuhl]

Objective III: The Battlefield is in constant chaos!
Allies: Calin Rakel | Squesha | Ronhar Tane | Marlon Sularen
Enemies: Darth Carnifex | Elmindra Xitaar | Rowyna Galeway |
Location: Orbit above Brosi

Lord Rasnuhl's six ships glided through the void in two groups... two chevrons. His group headed towards the astroid belt while the other moved high at a 35 degree tilt vs the rest of the fleets. The second group would use their strengths of the same armament no matter which direction on faced them, along with their flack guns along their side trenches.

Opening a comm to Marlon Sularen "I am advancing to put pressure on the ships that have moved forward. Let me know what you need."
The massage was short and sweet.


Followed by a comm both to Squesha & Calin Rakel "Three of my ships are going high above plane to attack from their topsides so to speak. The largest of Elmindra Xitaar 's ships will soon have some fun little friends."


Aboard the RDF Imperator its bridges hummed with activity. The Veil Network hummed with data between the ships Ai's. The lights were a combat blood orange easing the strain on his crews eyes. The ship's course was intending to help the first smaller ship that broke out of the Astroids, along with harassing the biggest ship.

"Hail Invictus, instruct Captain Maj to microjump to flank the farthest cluster of cruisers, deploy fighters, and open fire."

The plan was trashed by the sudden micro jump of a 1,800m warship into Lord Rasnuhl's face. Along with the immediate launching of fighters & weapons.

Curses! Rasnuhl mutters under his breath. "Realign shields! Bank us above the enemy ship & tell the RDF Valar & RDF Coiled Shadow to go on either side allowing their flack cannons access." He pauses for a moment as the shift in the force touches his senses and he pushes it away "All weapons hot. Light them up. Have some of the HMP's grab B2's and await to see if they can infiltrate in the initial run." If the Darkness shackled Sith want to show powers. So be it.

The ship takes a fair amount of fire before the shields are readjusted, then returning it in kind. Dual Mazers, Tri Heavy lasers, and Quad Turbo lasers hale back as the vultures jump from their nooks on the edge of the trio of ships releasing their discord missiles & going after the enemy fighters.

Tie Pixies, HMP's, along with more vultures launch to support the vultures already out.

Turning towards Captain Kalafax the younger female Zabrak "You are in command. Lead as you see fit. I have a ritual to start."
Captain Kalafax salutes Lord Rasnuhl "Aye aye my Lord."

Lord Rasnuhl heads down to the lower meditation chamber to join his sorcerers. He takes off the upper part of his uniform revealing his orange skin with black marking and muscular physique. Upon his skin are at least a hundred lightsaber scars from his formal training years. He steps into his spot as the group of nine begin to do a form of battle meditation via arcane channeled ritual. The painted symbols on the floor of the chamber, the Zabraki & Sith runes on the black stripes upon the hull all begin to glow a deep burgundy color. Confederation space personnel would be emboldened, actions quickened, and their fears suppressed. Sieliel Dimegor Bella

Formation 2 lead by RDF Zealous

They micro jump to above the astroid field. Firing timed detonation discord missiles from their tubes to cause the buzz droids within to be able to fly shotgun style onto the hulls of the ships... or fighters that got in the way.

The captain of the RDF Zealous staring at the holo map of sensor positions and looking at the white mist gathering shakes his head opening a comm to the trio of ships "Crew listen up. We will shotgun them with Buzz droids for a time. And pelt them with long range mazer & turbo laser fire. I will monitor the situation. May the force set us free."

Spoiler: Fleet Comp

6 Impetum

Name	Length	Shield & Hull
RDF Valar	883m	83% | 100%
RDF Imperator	883m	75% | 100%
RDF Coiled Spirit	883m	84% | 100%
RDF Defiant	883m	100% | 100%
RDF Zealous	883m	100% | 100%
RDF Couragous	883m	100% | 100%

Ships loaded per Impetum:
2 Squadrons Vultures | Squadron of 16
2 Squadrons HMP's | Squadron of 12
2 Squadrons TIE Pixie | squadron of 16
1 Squadron NZ TIE/Stu | squadron of 12
Vultures & HMP's have discord missiles loaded for use on the Sith Orders Ships.

Spoiler: Fleet Actions

1) Elmindra Xitaar 's ship has the three Impetums split around it hammering away. The two moving to the sides fire with their combined 16 flack guns as four of the 24 HMP's try to get into the hanger and drop 6 B2's apiece
2) Xitaar's ship has 32 Tie Pixie's, 36 HMP's, and 64 vultures flying around
3) Group two attacks Xitaar's fleet in the astroids
4) Lord Rasnuhl begins a battle meditation Sith ritual with 8 sorcerers
5) Or haulers not aided have systems sliced by Buzz droids & Rasnuhl's Crew start remotely piloting them.

 

[Darth Virelia]

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

The net struck, and Braith went down.

Virelia registered it without concern—just movement in the equation. Chaos was expected. What mattered was rhythm. What mattered was choice. Brent fell hard, his armor scraping like metal dragged across truth, and in that instant, he was exposed. She could've ended it. She saw the path—six precise motions, one controlled breath, and a blade through the spine. But he wasn't done. He wasn't broken.

The birds whistled before she saw them.

Micro-rockets, screaming up from his vambrace, heat signatures flaring across her HUD like a constellation of threats. They locked. They learned. And in that instant, Virelia knew: this wasn't just about Brent anymore. If she moved, she could escape them. Let him flee. Reset the board. But the birds weren't aiming only for her—they were indiscriminate. And she felt the shape of the net around Braith. Saw the lines in the Force bend toward inevitability.

Choice.

Precision or domination? Kill him now, let Braith waste time freeing herself. Or weaponize his own chaos.

She chose the latter.

Both hands moved in a smooth, downward arc as her eyes flared. Calculation. The Force flexed around her like a vice, and with a sharp twist of will, she seized the birds mid-flight. Tiny engines fought back, but they didn't understand. They were machines—directed. She was direction incarnate. With a flick, she tore their trajectory sideways—redirected the storm toward the net around Braith.

The hallway would of flashed with violent sparks as three of the birds would attempt to surgically tare through the fibers binding the witch. Another would explode harmlessly into the wall. One would turn back, hungry for Virelia's spine, but she would turn her shoulder into it, letting her armor take the blow with a crack and a burst of heat.

She wouldn't flinch, as six eyes stared through the smoke and fire.

Directly into the soul of the Mandalorian.

 

[Ronhar Tane]

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

"There's too many of them! We're getting overwhelmed!

Ronhar cut through yet another creature, releasing a blinding cloud of spores that covered him from head to toe. Every time he cut down a creature, at least two more took its place. No matter how many of the creatures that he defeated, more and more flooded the room, threatening to drown Ronhar and his men in a tide of flesh and metal.

"AAAAAAHHHH! ITS GOT ME! ITS GOT ME! ITS-"

Ronhar turned in alarm, just in time to see one of his men being dragged by an enormously large tentacle. It was thrashing the poor Storm Commando about, slamming him into the walls and the floor. Ronhar charged forward, sailing across the room toward the tentacle. With a might cleave of his sword, he cut the tentacle straight in half, severing the Storm Commando from his grasp. Ronhar took a moment to check on the fallen solider: he couldn't fine a pulse no matter where he checked.

. . . Subject . . . Zero - Four . . .

. . .

. . . Vital signs . . . Null . . .

Blast!

Ronhar turned back around toward his men. Of the 39 Storm Commandos that had begun the day with him, not even half were still alive. Things were becoming quite dire.

"Detecting more signatures, the hive has been agitated. I've marked an emergency path."

Ronhar's HUD updated itself, showing a path toward a heavily armored security door. Another display indicated the door's power supply, which was rapidly dwindling toward zero. Ronhar didn't have to guess what would happen when it did. Judging by the door's thickness and material, it would take Ronhar far too much time to cut through it if he ended up trapped in here. And with all the monsters attacking him, he sincerely doubted he'd even have the chance to do so.

His musings were cut short by the sound of a loud clicking, a sound he hadn't heard up until this point. Whatever was making that sound sounded like it was big, and also sounded like it was coming straight for his location.

It was time to make a decision.

"Men, we're getting the hell out of here! Follow me!"

With that, Ronhar and the remaining Storm Commandos made a mad dash for the emergency exit, not evening daring to look back as the rest of the creatures followed after them. Ronhar ran as fast as he could, his cybernetic legs being pushed to their absolute limits. He could see the door, see the outside of Brosi, just a few more meters...

"Go! Go! Go!", Ronhar called out as he reached the exit. He let his men go first, wanting to make sure they all got out. As he prepared to leave the room, he risked a quick glance back at the abomination heading for them.

It was a solid mass of flesh, towering above Ronhar. Its face, if you could even call it that, was frozen in an agonized scream, as it charged headfirst toward Ronhar.

Ronhar ran outside the exit, just as the security door dropped. Ronhar could hear a thudding against the door as the creatures inside the facility tried to get out. He didn't really want to think about what was going on on the other side.

"Roll call!", Ronhar yelled out to those around him.

15 answers was all that he got.

Ronhar sighed and began to remove his sword's power pack from his hip.

"Harsta!"

"Sir?"

"Here, take this sword", Ronhar instructed Harsta. Harsta gingerly took the sword, clearly not used to wielding such a weapon. Ronhar then extended his right arm forward, gesturing Harsta toward it. Harsta understood almost immediately, and began the process of very carefully burning all the spores off of Ronhar's cybernetics.

"Get every inch that you can", Ronhar reminded Harsta. After a few minutes, Ronhar's cybernetics were spotlessly clean, at least as far as Ronhar could tell.

"Keep that sword for now. If my cybernetics go haywire in the slightest, I want you to cut them off what that sword."

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"You heard exactly what I said. Cut them right off."

"Understood, sir."

"I want the rest of you to set up a defensive perimeter around this location. Mulpet, call for evac. Farjack, Pincar, go retrieve that droid we destroyed earlier, we're taking it with us. Harsta, Garhosl, you're with me. We're making a brief detour. "If we're not back in 10 minutes...go on without us. And for the love of the galaxy, don't forget to take your anti-virals!"

As the Storm Commandos scrambled to fulfill their assignments, Ronhar, Harsta and Garhosl began running back toward the entrance of the rail complex. Thankfully, it was just as devoid as zombies as it had been when Ronhar first arrived there. They made their way through the complex and back into the makeshift clinic, back to where the young girl was...

TAGS:
Vakhari Lutris

 

[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 ground still trembled beneath his boots, heat belching from the raw wounds carved into the earth. Ash drifted like black snow, stinging his eyes, but nothing blurred the sight of the thing clawing itself into drama across from him. Credius stood wreathed in hunger. His voice spilling into the poisoned wind, thick with promises of void and dominion.

Gerwald watched him through slitted eyes. His jaw was tight, muscles strung like wire. When the words finally stopped, he answered with a sound that wasn’t laughter. It was more like a wolf clearing blood from its throat.

“You finished?” His tone rasped low and dangerous. “Good. Now shut up and bleed.”

He saw the flicker of motion before most would’ve sensed the thought. Two shapes broke wide from either side. The figures were fast, and efficient. They moved like trained killers. One came with a vibroblade big enough to gut a rancor, singing with a black edge that drank what little light dared the ash-thick air. The other lingered back, slugthrower raised, the oily gleam of Force-breaker rounds promising agony if they hit home.

Gerwald moved. No flourish. No feint. Just a sudden blur of mass and muscle cutting forward like a fired slug. The hammer swung out of his grip’s idle hang and became an executioner’s stroke, intercepting the first assassin’s downswing mid-arc. Metal screamed against metal as the haft rolled in a brutal arc aimed to collapse ribs like dry timber if it landed clean. Gerwald drove the strike with enough force to make bone splinter and send the body crumpling into the ash as long as his timing held true.

The Verpine barked its shot.

Gerwald pivoted, his lightsaber snapping to life just in time to catch the slug square against its head. The impact bloomed white-hot, shrapnel bursting in a spray that blackened his pauldron and scored his jaw with burning grit. He didn’t flinch. Smoke hissed off his armor as he turned his head, eyes burning bright as twin suns through the haze.

The Wolf started walking. One step. Another.

“You came here thinking this was a feast, but all I see,” He slammed his boot into the ground in front of him with a dull, seismic thud that split a fresh fracture through the ruin. “are bones for me to break.”

The ground pulsed underfoot, each tremor carrying that ugly pull like the Force being torn out by its roots. Gerwald felt it clawing at the marrow of the world, draining life, and ripping at the ritual behind him. The gauntlet on Credius’ arm burned sickly green, its pull stretching toward Srina, Caedes, and Revna like a starving throat.

That was his mistake.

Gerwald’s grip shifted on the hammer, and with a snarl tearing through his teeth, he wrenched it back and hurled it low. He did not aim for Credius’ skull, but for the ground where that cursed hand anchored its hunger. The weapon spun end over end streaking through the heat-hazed air in a brutal arc aimed to smash the gauntlet’s focus point and shatter its tether to the ground.

The instant the hammer left his hand, Gerwald lunged after it. His boots hammered against cracked stone, as the momentum built like an avalanche. His aim wasn’t subtle. If the strike broke Credius’ concentration, even for a heartbeat, the Wolf intended to be on him before the void could stabilize. He dropped low as he closed the distance, one clawed gauntlet flashing out in an attempt to seize the monster’s wrist and wrench it wide away from the ritual’s heart. His lightsaber shot forward in the same breath, plasma burned to rake across the corrupted plating to tear deep and rip the gauntlet free if the chance presented itself.

“You want to feed?” His growl came like grinding stone, rough and sharp as the chasm yawning beneath their boots. “Then choke on me.”

 

[Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory]

Location: Brosi
Tag: Eira Dyn
Objective I: Storm the tower

Spoiler: Equipment

Personal Suit | Nullsuit | NZ HG-Vibrodagger type I x2 | G-2 Imperial Standard Blaster x2

As soon as she connected her datapad, the woman started to work her magic, or rather KRONOS' magic unto the terminal she'd found within the confederence room, the light of the screens reflected in her eyes, Amalia waited for the super AI to do its job, but it wasn't as easy as it usually was, KRONOS was dividing their attention across several platforms and having to utilize a mere, cheap datapad in order to access hidden and locked files was harder than utilizing the proper materials, tools and connection. Still, with KRONOS' capacity being quite insane in comparison to most top notch AI's and supercomputers, even through a simple and rather weak connection as a standard system datapad, decrypting codes and even cracking intranet protocols, holonet subsystems and encryptions wasn't too hard...it simply took more time.

Yet sadly, TIME was exactly the one thing Amalia was rather short on, for her eyes rose from the terminal screens, turning towards the entrance to the conference room, the red and black code from the screens reflected within her gray, emotionless eyes. Even if she didn't truly see anything entering, her innate senses, her sharpened instincts and the dormant force sensitivity from her other 'self' all screamed at once. it was no coincidence that the door opened, there was no other way it would have opened unless if someone entered or left the room and since she was still there, the guard she'd taken down was still quite obviously dead...she did double check considering the situation outside... the only logical answer was that someone was entering the room.

With little effort, the woman's hands snapped to her back, pulling out two blasters from her hipholsters, utilizing her right arm as support, she started firing off a couple of blasts towards the door with the blaster in her left hand, utilizing her right leg to kick up a chair into the direction of the door as well, all the while hiding behind one of the many support columns located within the conference room. "I reckon it was the corpse downstairs that has alerted you, no?"

A bit of smalltalk couldn't hurt, certainly not if it could act as a proper gauge to see what she was dealing with. Perhaps it was an acolyte, maybe a sith apprentice, Amalia was certain that it wasn't going to be a sith lord, those wouldn't even try to be stealthy. tilting her head a bit, she let out a raw, dry chuckle. "No... you're an assassin, aren't you? A Sith Assassin... this can be fun after all."

 

[PT-45 "COWL"]

They worked well together, albeit showing the lack of care for a subordinate exhibited so often by darklings. The girl had come first, clearly the lesser of the two, and as a result, she'd been swatted like the insect that she was. All Sith were insects deserving of extermination, and so, too, were any that dared to stand in the way of the Empress and the rule of the Empire.

The other one was fast as well, too fast for Cowl to counter, though he was coming around to try when the boot struck him and sent him staggering off to the side. Even inside of his armor he felt that kick. The transfer of kinetic energy from the exterior, through the armor, into his ribcage. A rib strike for a rib strike. It was fair, in terms of trading attacks, but he did not want to fight fair. Fairness was for the weak and those willing to compromise their ability to win.

Cowl did not.

"Begin active interference," he said, even as he saw the girl coming back at him.

This time, the blade would meet pike, which held against her attack as it was designed to do. Though he did not possess the ability to interact with the Force, he was skilled in combat. Those with enough skill could easily compensate for their lack of the Force, especially when the right tools were also applied to the situation.

And the active interference would begin shortly thereafter. While before it was simple: a light emittance that teased the mind just enough to make concentration a little harder when affecting the Force; now it was much different. The device built into his armor was now projecting frequency oscillations that were designed specifically to attack the mind of Force users at their location of utilization within the brain. Even were they not using the Force it would provide a measure of interference they were not, most likely, used to.

He deftly spun his voidpike to direct the cat girls weapon away from him while simultaneously stepping forward and carrying the spin of the staff through with the intention of striking her in the back as he moved towards the man with her. A normal staff strike in this manner wouldn't hurt much, but the gravitational enhancement of the voidpike made a great difference.

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

 

[Matteo Guo-Yian]

Location: Shoengen, Brosi [Nearby Drop Ship]
Objective: Objective II - Seize the Means of Production!
Goals: Subterranean Ore Mines Beneath Processing Plant Delta-2
Tags: Soldane Talon | Lunaria Talon | The Lord of Hunger

"I wish we could have taken a speeder…", she murmured, aware that she needed to keep her voice only barely above a whisper, but feeling the need to make conversation. As if it would somehow make this experience normal. "Because you know I just love walking through haunted forests."

"Oh, don't you think it's rather romantic?" Matteo softly responded right back, trying not to let the anxiety seep into his voice. It was hard because those were literal zombies straggling around them. The kind that you usually only saw in horror flicks on the HoloNet, but here they were. Right out of the demented mind of a Sith Lord with far too much free time, at least that's what Matteo assumed had happened here. "The trees, the birds, the chaperones, the-"

The nervous muttering seized almost immediately all of a sudden.

"That's…Not a rock."

"Understood," The Sceleratii exclaimed in unison.

"Commence hunt," The Sceleratii reached for their sides, retrieving a somewhat large handcannon out of their left leg, each aiming at their respective target. With there being four of them, each positioned their shot, chosing their targets carefully, before firing off a swift repetition of several shots with force breaker rounds, all fired at each respective individual target and clearly with the absolute intent to kill.

Matteo blinked once at 'Understood' and in all honesty did not wait for the rest of their wind-up sequence. Instead he grabbed Luna by her hand again and dragged her with him. His free hand squeezed into a fist and yanked up. From the ground dirt and then rock burst into the air. It was... not a lot, frankly, but it provided coverage to make their escape.

Don't think, just run, we can't handle four of them at once and get our mission done. Matteo hissed in her mind as they ran, because the location of their objective was nearby. They had almost reached it when these sick puppies suddenly revealed themselves.

That was a sign as far as Matteo was concerned.

If they hadn't been close the stalkers wouldn't have revealed themselves.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

BROSI || RUINED OBSERVATION POST
TAGS || Eurydice

Nefaron could not have been more pleased.

Eurydice had given in to her fear. She obeyed to preserve her life.

She was beginning to understand why Nefaron sought mastery of the emotion.

He would use it to take the galaxy.

Forever.
​

He watched on as she delved into the trooper's mind, following her journey as if he were her shadow. She watched a tragedy play out, one that was to repeat endlessly so long as war continued to consume the galaxy, exactly what Nefaron desired in the end. He knew what would take her; he knew that she had not been exposed to the true horror that was the greater galaxy. She might be inclined to shut down, to embrace oblivion as he once did in his youth. But he had a master to guide him, and so Eurydice must also be guided through the man's thoughts and memories to find understanding.

"He thinks he fights to protect others from evil."

"From us."
​

The Corpse Lord's voice, velvety and almost calming, filled Eurydice's mind. He was always there, always watching over her shoulder, as if her nightmares had leaped to life and sought to remake her into something truly terrible.

"What a fool."

"He believes the ideals of order and obedience will save him, will save his people."

"But he has been deceived."
​

Something took hold then. The Dark Side roared, fueled by death and suffering, to produce visions. Though they were far removed from the battle, Eurydice was granted sight over the roar of blaster fire and the heat of explosions. She watched men and women die in endless numbers, she witnessed duels between masters of the Dark Side, she watched on as a terrible ritual took shape to awaken a tide of slashing nails and gnashing teeth. This was chaos, this was what happened when the Dark Side granted its gifts to many and allowed them to bring death to each other.

And next to her, the Corpse Lord.

Apostle of Fear

Butcher of Ukatis

Her Master

He was smiling
​

"I know what it is that you feel when you look at this carnage, when you look upon me. But you are left with but two choices, Eurydice."

He did not need to elaborate, for she knew full well what her choices were. She could die, give in to horror and despair, and perish like so many others in Nefaron's service.

Or she could live. She could learn. She could become a Dark Lord to rival her master.

"Open your eyes, child."

The trooper was dead. The body contorted in what could only be described as abject terror.

Blood trickled from his eyes like tears.

Nefaron had been but a passenger.

This is Eurydice's doing.

​

 

[Lucette]

[CRADLE TO THE GRAVE]

Allies: Lysander von Ascania | Madrona A’Mia
Opponents: Seraphina Pryde
Targeting: Tova Zyl

​

Lucette had grown rather bored, she had thought those dreaded Imperials would have come for her. No, they lingered, and wandered about.

Tsk. Tsk.

The battlefield around them had descended into a beautifully orchestrated bit of chaos. Chaos, if one lacked discipline, perspective, and elegance. But, Lucy walked Brosi like it owed her stillness. Her boots didn't crunch the surface beneath them, no they simply kissed the ground. The stench of burning bug-flesh and plasma drifted past her, but she didn't flinch. Tibbs padded forward with a low, guttural growl the bulk of his body shimmered with bioluminescent veins. The two mirage mittens blinked into existence ahead of her Ophidia and Voracitos playfully displacing between cover and vantage points like soft-pawed wraiths.


She walked through the smoke as though she were out for an early morning walk on Dosuun. "Well, I had hoped that there needn't be a test of the viscosity of your weapon, at least, firsthand... but I suppose, since you're here, we can turn this into a proper case study."

Bugs parted around her like water breaking on a ship's prow, some directed by pheromonal override and others instinctively recoiling from the wrongness dripping off the Sithspawn at her side and those that lingered in the greater area to her left and right flank. Lucy didn't draw her lightsaber, not yet.

She simply gestured and a section of the bugs in Tova's path detonated, a chain reaction of modified pheromones reacting to a single snapped finger from Lucy.

Lucy spoke her voice sweet like honey, yet clinically cruel at the same time. "Do try not to resist, it's ever so much cleaner if you don't flail." A beat, "let's take apart your bravery, molecule by molecule." A sweet, demented smile on her features, "you are a marvelous specimen, I do wonder what secrets your blood your might reveal."

The flamethrower moved from her back to her hands with one swift motion, it hissed to life. Lucy's fingers on the trigger, Tibbs at her side and her mirage mittens waiting for their orders.

Spoiler: Sithspawn

Tibbs
Mirage Mittens
Ostros
Shriekbeasts
Leapers
Styn'karras
Blightmares