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The cord was yanked out of his spectral hands. Nimdok instantly traced the source. Another presence, as alien as… well, as Nimdok himself, had engaged the telepaths. The professor raised an eyebrow in his sleep as Ostak probed the Jedi’s consciousnesses, then attempted to blind them.
<Don’t be ridiculous. We don’t have eyes here in dreamtime.>
He moved right up to the chortling Bryn, fast enough that he almost seemed to have teleported.
<You think you’re very clever, don’t you?>
If Ostak was perceptive enough, he might notice that a double of Nimdok remained behind, digging deeper into the Hivemind by way of the Force. Perhaps it was a pointless endeavor, or perhaps it would help in some small way to disable it. Either way, he wasn’t going to give up that easily.
When he turned his attention back to the Nimdok before him, it would be just in time to receive a hammer blow to the head. Metaphorically. Point is, it would hurt.
The blade of light scythed upwards, and Varn moved with it. He knew he had him. Knew that his opponent knew that he had him. So, when the draelvasier dropped his kukri and backed away, the surprise that followed struck them both in equal measure. For a moment, Varn stood dumbstruck as his saber smote nothing but air. Had the Bryn warlord just... dropped his weapon? He had. He-
The rush of wind as the draelvasier tried to grab him set Varn's cloak flying. Extinguishing his saber, the knight pulled his sword arm back as the Bryn's claw-like digits snapped shut on the space it had just occupied. The other claw-hand swung towards his throat, his face. Channeling the Force, it took Varn all he had to duck out of the way in time. He felt his cloak snag, felt it tug him onto the balls of his feet. Shrugging free, Varn span away, a hand simultaneously reaching out to swipe the Kukri away.
The blade rattled across stone and metal, coming to a rest more than a dozen feet away. Varn felt better knowing it was beyond his opponent's reach.
Better was relative, though. Reigniting his lightsaber, Varn arrested his clockwise momentum by digging his feet in. Dust and smoke shifted around him as he reoriented himself. The draelvasier hadn't moved in the heartbeat it had taken Varn to get clear. Odd. Tilting his head to one side, the Zabrak studied the foe with a wary eye, the sounds of battle near yet far. The creature's armor shifted, hardened, shifted again. Like the inhale and exhale of breath, Varn could spot the minute ripples as the armor -not the wearer, the armor- physically moved.
Living thing, indeed. Varn couldn't help but wonder at the strangeness of it all, the wrongness he felt. How many suits of this armor did the Bryn possess? Were there more or was it alone in it's uniqueness? Either way, one was one too many.
"All right, big man." Varn said, withdrawing from his thoughts. "Let's dance."
As if on queue, the draelvasier came for him. Quicker than they had any right to be, the claw-hands struck. A one-two punch, Varn narrowly avoided the blows. His retaliation was no less fierce, but somehow it seemed lesser. The first signs of doubt, Varn figured. He blocked it out as his lightsaber brushed the monster's right forearm, bounced off his chest. Where the lightsaber touched, bright lines appeared. Scars of light erupted and faded, the armor weathering everything thrown against it. For a heartbeat, the doubt reappeared.
It was all his opponent needed.
The first sign something was wrong was when the air left his lungs. The second was when his feet left the ground. The room span as he was flipped end over end, a hidden hand reaching from the heavens to pluck him away. Varn didn't believe in the Gods. Maybe that was why they let him go. His back and shoulders exploded in pain as he hit the ground hard. His chest mirrored the pain. The difficulty of drawing breath stoked the flames of panic. For a couple heartbeats, Varn did nothing but lie still. It hurt thinking about how much he hurt. It hurt thinking about how to make the pain stop.
He knew there was only one way to make it stop for good. Too bad that option was off the table.
Launching himself back onto his feet, the knight pirouetted aside as the red-scaled draelvasier came crashing down. Stone cracked as the Bryn' warrior landed, bringing his arms down in a hammer blow that would've crushed Varn to a bloody pulp. Deafening, the noise hid the hum of the knight's saber as it cut up and across the Draelvasier's gut. Osam
had claws. But so did Varn.
From the Soulmarcher, escape pods began making their way to the closest ships, whether they were Mandalorian or Concord vessels. Pikes that had finished they're bombing runs completely had released their modules and and quickly took advantage of their universal latches. Other pods were picked up by the various Concord vessels, while one last one had managed to get itself into the Shield-class's hanger. Malo for her part took a breath as pod were finally being picked up.
"Kaddie... tell everyone to get their med bays ready, and be ready for a show....."
Um..... Stuff. Basically what's been happening.
Mando escape pod make their ways to the closest ships.
Mig looked at the forces around, and quickly went toe to toe with an Ultra. These Bryn may've been their elite, but up close like this... this was his domain. The Mandalorian would quickly move around to his back, and finally ignited the lightsaber blades of his Trayc'kad, and quickly sliced into the Bryn's neck. He quickly add a blast of Force Lightning, carefully guiding it to the monstrous warrior's heart. He took a breath, hoping that the Jedi were doing there part in disrupting the Hivemind. Then a voice would call out.
He turned, seeing the Jedi with spider legs getting ready to do something crazy. Mig shook his head, and nodded. "On it Jetii!" He the looked around, quickly focusing himself before focusing and the area around her, ad quickly using Alter Environment to pull the earthen material around them into a set of walls to block attempt to stop her. Now wasn't the time for his usual subtilty when it came to the Force. He couldn't hold back today. He had to use every tool he had now.
To say that Omega Squad was in a fight was an understatement. Their mission was to take out the Northern Shield Generator and they had not gotten to it yet. They have had to go down this… cavern… this pit… this mudhole… this whatever it is and on top of that, they had these appetizers fighting their every move.
One could go on about how they were not Rangers, but that was a barfight for another time, right now they were fighting into the Rancorr den and would have to fight their way out of it. Understand that while they did not carry the Force, any of them, they all carried enough firepower and the knowledge on how to use it to get as far as they’d gotten and even go further.
There were droves and droves of them, whatever they were, all well trained and all ferocious in their fighting. They seemed to counter almost every move that the team made, almost, Gabriel had been setting traps that would keep them from being chased. If the Bryn were smart, they would not follow and the team had a way out if they did? The hallways, access tubes, whatever, they would be caved in.
They had exhausted the flame carpet warheads, only had a few remaining FYB rockets, and were down to their last two to three powercells (each) by the time they had reached the lowest level. This level had to be the shield generator if they could recognize it.
Gabriel’s last two charges were his biggest and set them for remote detonation, and even gave himself a “dead man’s switch” set-up on the remote detonator. All of them were beat up and wounded, but they were in the fight. This was the hard part, fighting their way out.
There was a point in the fight that they were out of options. They were all down to their last powercells and were stuck with slugthrowers and 40mm FYB grenades. Bryn were all around them and when a huge fiber chord line fell on top of Michael’s helmet. It was a line that leads straight up to a hovering Pegasus ‘1, as ‘2 was firing on Bryn covering them and their exit.
It spent the last of their ammunition, their explosives, and nearly their lives but they each hooked up to the line and pulled as Jeremiel pulled back on the controls and they were screaming into the air. Gabriel finally started pressing those remote detonators, blowing up all of the nice little explosives he set. The shield generator was going down.
"That shall be the one and only wish of yours that I shall grant." replied Abvor in a deep, accentuated Basic reply.
The weapon that the Jedi (Beltran Rarr
) wielded resembled a pike, but with the light properties of a lightsaber blade. Here, Abvor would have to be careful. Unlike Krarolk and Palkomin, he had no talent with spiritual energy, and could not imbue his blades or armor to indefinitely block every strike of his foe's blade. He would have to rely solely on his guns or the oil lining his blades, which would likely last only a few minutes of intensive combat. The Zealot Elite gauged his odds for barely a tenth of a second before deciding on his axe.
While its oil remained unworn, Abvor gauged that every combat advantage was in his favor. His Cleaver was longer than even the twin-bladed pike, negating any advantage of range that the Jedi may have hoped to possess. With its immense weight in very powerful Baedurin hands, any direct hit would likely deliver a mortal wound, regardless of the armor he wore. Unless it was constructed of the metal he had seen in Mandalorian armor or something similar, it would be little more than wrapping atop a squishy meal.
Confident in his odds, Abvor swung the axe downwards from above his head down to bisect the Jedi's skull, striking from nearly the maximum range of the axe's two meter length.
Krarolk T'manu would not fail under any circumstance aside from his own death.
The Zealot Commander reminded himself as such as he dove headlong into the enemy formation, bullets denting his armor. His glaive expertly weaved through armor and flesh, humanoid limbs falling to the ground in droves as Krarolk sliced through them. A soldier rushed into melee range and aimed their shotgun at Krarolk, only for him to take the mass-produced weapon and bend its barrel thirty degrees upwards, rendering it useless before tossing it at the soldier's chest and striking it with a Pulverizer bullet, causing a chain reaction of explosions as strong as a grenade.
A sudden rumble of familiar motions behind him improved his mood further - thanks to Krarolk's actions, reinforcements could safely arrive. Hopefully, they would soon join him and the others on the battlefield. Just as Krarolk prepared to meet with them to coordinate, a whistle sounded in front of him.
The Zealot Commander turned to find the earth itself bending under the hands of a Jedi female, a ripple of stone launching his way. Fortunately, it was a slow and predictable wave, one that would bend before him instead of the other way around. Just as the displaced ripple of stones approached his legs, Krarolk reached out with his spiritual energy and wrapped it on the ground immediately around his feet, solidifying the rock. The quake of stone traveled around the Zealot Commander's body, but left him unharmed.
Leaving the Jedi caster (Brooke Waters
) vulnerable to the two Force-imbued throwing axes he sent towards her torso as he stood back in anticipation.
Zealot Elite Palkomin refused to die.
However, she did have to realistically admit that death was a possibility, as she had made several key mistakes. First, Palkomin had underestimated her foe, believing him to be little more than one of the middle-tier Knights the Concord often deployed as commanders. However, upon entering melee range, she had come to the realization that he was both physically and spiritually of superior ability. On one hand, the Jedi male was among the largest and most muscular humanoids the Zealot Elite had ever fought, measuring perhaps only a quarter of a meter shorter than herself and with arms that were in places wider than her own. On the other hand, his inner energies had lifted up the Elite, weighing nearly half a ton with her armor on, without any significant effort. Her armor had been crushed so thoroughly that it was all that the young Elite could do to project her own energy as a counterweight, the Jedi consequently breaking her armor instead of her bones. Still, it was a close call, and Palkomin nearly fainted as enough of her armor shattered to be freed of its confines.
As she desperately gasped for air, Palkomin was in a poor condition.
The young Elite had been stripped of her armor, leaving only a leather robe to cover her lean Aeravalin form. With the loss of her armor, her arsenal had also been scattered, with only her Driller submachine gun and one of her kukris in range. To be beaten so thoroughly - was she worthy of the title of Elite? Palkomin knew enough to understand that she had been assigned to Krarolk's squad to vacate a spot left behind after the mysterious death of Krarolk's own former Zealot Commander, and knew that the resulting expectations placed on her were high.
But such expectations were highest for none but Krarolk himself. As much as he tried to conceal his emotions, Palkomin knew that her Commander had been hit hard by his past string of defeats, and had a new demon haunting his dreams in the form of the shadow entity. If herself or Abvor were to die in battle, Krarolk would likely blame himself, believing himself unworthy of leading his comrades the same way she had led him.
Zealot Elite Palkomin would not let herself be added to the list of traumas eating away at her Commander, who had so graciously accepted her into his ranks even as he grieved the death of his own former role model.
With newfound determination, Palkomin reached from the ground and reached for her Driller, still fully loaded. The large Jedi had turned away from the Elite, likely no longer believing her to be a priority. Such an opening was all the opportunity the Zealot Elite needed to start pumping Ore Shell bullets towards his back from a mere five meters away.
When you are a Jedi, you are taught to disarm first. You are taught only to fight as a last resort. When you are a Jedi you are taught to respect life above all else, but what do you do when you are facing a body whose only outlook on life is conquest? How do you give one a chance to escape when their only desire is to run you and anyone else in front of them, over? How do you reason with one who does not reason? Sometimes you have to fight, and when you get to this point you must fight like they do, if not worse.
Caltin was tired…
… tired of the attackers…
… tired of the fighting…
… tired of this constant war…
… tired of being hit from behind.
Palkomin shot the big guy square in the back knocking him forward. Falling on his chest, Caltin immediately rolled to his right only to meet a boot to the face. He tried to get up, but the Ultra’s hand lifted him by the neck and threw him backward, much in a reciprocation manner. It was when Palkomin took her driller, again, and went for the killing shot that Caltin sat up and stopped the weapon from firing further, pressing his hands to either side. Slowly, angrily, definitively Caltin just looked at the warrior and shook his head “no”.
Palkomin was strong and had the leverage advantage, but Caltin had the ability to crush the barrel of her weapon through the aid of the Force. Slowly getting to his feet, his armor cut to pieces in the back, he made sure not to repeat the mistakes of before. With her melee weapon in her hand, it was clear that she was more than capable, but…
...snap-hiss...
So was he, with his.
With a wave of his fingers, it was “ladies first”. He let the Bryn’a’dul attack him again, unlike when he let his anger get the better of him against their leader on Sarka. No, this time he was the one with nothing to prove, he was the one who would take the day. When she attacked, his block was simple enough and though “Eloah” could cut through more than the average lightsaber, it did not break the forge of the Kukri. This was fine as his counterattack was a sidestep and a sweeping cut sheering her driller into two pieces.
He did not know how capable Brooke Waters
was, though he was confident enough in her abilities. Seeing the opportunity, he attempted to catch one of the axes the Zealot Commander threw at her(by the assistance of the Force that is) but redirected it slightly. She had a lot to watch over and maybe this would give her a bit of a break for but a moment. Of course, this would give Palkomin the opportunity to cut into his blade arm, which she did. With the aid of Tutaminis, Caltin just looked at her angrily. Sure, his arm had a huge gash in it, but she could have cut it clean off otherwise.
Palkomin was able to block Caltin’s back fist, but not the power Force aided push that sent her flying and into one of the furthest walls they could see. The impact was hard, but not life-ending as she fell unconscious to the ground, and he just looked her way as his wound was already slowly healing.
You’ll live.
Another Juggernaut attacked him, and finally, the big guy activated his Toraynor, the enhanced ability blasted the Bryn soldier stunning “him”. Caltin was getting full-on angry now with the debris falling from the ceiling, no doubt the cause was not natural. Pushing the Force hard into patches of ceiling that no Marines, no Rangers, no Valkry, or Jedi were under, Caltin was “returning fire” so to speak.
The fervor of battle brought on something else though, the big guy could sense more than just those around him. It seemed like his awareness was in overdrive, everything he saw was multiplied in a manner of speaking. Caltin could sense what could be attributed to “concern” by some Bryn, he could sense outright rage by Beltran, that would have to be addressed, he sensed a bloodlust in Padawan Deklyn.
What he was noticing was his energy levels seemed to be spiking, almost like some kind of Force Adrenaline. No, this was not some special ability, but just something that made him feel a little more energetic, literally. More Zealots attacked him, so this was put to the test until…
ENOUGH!
Emanating a blast of Force Lightning from his body was enough to send several flying.
Using the Toraynor again, he sent falling debris back up into the ceiling again, it would turn to rubble as it fell back to the ground but the effect should rumble the ground above them.
With the glove needing a respite, or maybe his hand, he was still learning the device, Caltin fought off more Zealots before throwing up his hand and then down slamming it into the ground sending a Force wave out in all directions knocking any attacking Bryn near him off of their feet. Standing erect, he surveyed the arena. Anyone else that wanted to believe that they could have a different result? That was on them.
His palm shifted to the pommel of the Axe, leverage. The Titan sighed, pushing himself to his feet as the Jedi and their cohorts began a short sprint through the corridor. His movements were lethargic, flippant as he straightened his posture. He pulled the Axe from the pommel, the Axe leaping from the ground as the mid-length reached his palm, caught in his grasp like it weighed little more than a feather. The Jedi themselves were support by troopers, a mandalorian as well. No matter, he had killed hundreds of their kind. But unlike most tools of their trade, lightsabers and the force were unpredictable and dangerous - they could spell death or dismemberment if any saber wielder had the skill or circumstance, thankfully he was not alone in his endeavours. Ostak would spearhead the defence of the Ashaka as the Jedi Masters attempted to disrupt the operations of the Hivemind.
All of the Jedi who attempted to attack the Hivemind telepathically would find themselves in equal part attacked by the Ashaka, following the example of Ostak, attempting to equally protect the Overseer as well as the telepathical and physical battles commenced in unison. Around them, the Ultras spaced themselves out from the Ashaka to derive fire from their positions; opening fire with their Lancers against the Jedi and their troopers moving into the dome. Two fired a salvo of EMP grenades at the iron clad woman as she drew close to the platform's edge - heading right for the Hivemind itself. Their aim remained true, barking orders amongst themselves as red eyes pierced through the black smoke.
The infrared vision of the Draelvasier allowing them to ignore the smokescreen - the only disadvantaged now posed to their enemies as two others fired a barrage of Draemidus ore grenades from their Lancer's into the grouping troopers. Only three of the Jedi moved to face Tathra directly, they were entirely ignored by the Ultra's by merit of their honour. They belonged to Tathra. Whom could see the Jedi settling into meditative positions within the corridor as the others charged for him. What he saw were no swordsmiths, no Knights or protectors but youth. Again, the protectors of the Galaxy sent children whilst weaklings like Thurion and Caltin hid on the periphery of the battle.
He had defeated Masters, sent Strike teams of greater prestige than this running for their lives. What could children hope to accomplish? With a thought, three Ultra's from a group broke into a sprint toward the massive doorway - wide open enough that they didn't even have to close the distance. Each switched to their marksmen rifles as they took aim at the meditate Jedi, another at the edge of the platform maneuvered to avoid the walls raised to protect the Jedi, anticipating the acceleration of their movement; dropping its Lancer in favour of the Burner Launcher, locking onto the Jedi's position and firing both highly acidic explosive missiles directly at her. If she tried to cross the distance, they'd follow her. The heavy breath of another Ultra would be all that was heard as he tore apart the risen walls protecting the stationary iron jedi, primed to use his underslung harpoon to stop the Jedi before they could swing to the Hivemind.
Two others, fired directly into the back of the Mandalorian carrying his saber with Syphon beam rifles, aiming to burn away his flesh with their disruptor-like power. Each Draelvasier standing in this chamber, par perhaps the Ashaka themselves had watched the life drain from a Jedi Knight's eyes - each of them had survived orbital bombardments on Yurb, Nar Kreeta and Sarka. Their hate had been refined, it was easy to kill Jedi if you knew how.
The Titan raised his gauntleted fist, all but absorbing the entirety of the telekinetic wave sent for his head as he posed the massive length of the Axe between himself and the two Jedi charging for him. His gauntlet extended forward, above the shaft of the Axe as a beam of violent red energy shot out from his knuckles towards Kadan, the intent to delay his approach as aureate eyes focused on the movements of Sakadi, she was determined; he could see it in her eyes.
They might've been fighting for a planet, but he and the others at his side knew what Nar Kreeta meant. It meant the future of their alliance, their Covenant with the other species. Their would be a Bryn'adûl long after he was gone, and Tathra would ensure it was strong.
At that moment Andromeda was, for lack of a better description, trigger happy.
Each piece of debris she hurled at the encroaching beast threw her into a trance. A trance that consisted entirely of three steps. Calling the force, lifting whatever she could find, and pelting it as hard as she could. She did not care or notice if they found their mark at all, as long as the steady stream kept the Bryn from focusing properly. As far as she could tell, Varn had clashed with him already. Their blades created bright sparks of light in her vision that stood out against the grim backdrop of war.
Andromeda may have been blind, but she did not need sight to know that someone was watching her. Their eyes felt like hot beams on the back of her neck and stood every hair she had to attention, but she ignored it as best she could. In fact, she ignored it so well that for the first moment or two she hardly realised that the debris she was throwing had stopped. The first inkling she had was the fact that her arms felt like they were attempting to move through bacta. That was saying nothing about the debris itself, which had somehow turned so heavy it was almost akin to trying to shift an entire building.
Finally abandoning her onslaught, Andromeda let her arms fall limply to her side. Watching the two forms, master and beast, clashing on the battlefield made her feel helpless. As helpless as she had done during their first mission.
A soundless gasp escaped her lips as events unfolded before her sightless eyes. The larger figure seemed to slump to the ground, abandoning his shapeless weapon, entirely at the mercy of Varn for a few vulnerable seconds. Or so they thought. The next few moments seemed to pass by in a blur, literally. Andromeda could barely make out what was happening. Their movements were too fast, and her vision was too poor. There was little else she could do, but simply watching was growing more and more frustrating as the seconds ticked by. The Bryn seemed like an impossible enemy.
When faced with the impossible, you were very often left with two choices. Run and hide. Or push on in spite of it. Push on and hope that something, or someone, would come to your rescue. Was Andromeda Varn’s rescue in this impossible situation? Hardly, but she was all he had.
Charging forward, with little thought to what would be waiting for her when she got there, Andromeda ignited her own saber. The acrid yellow glow it cast across the battlefield would have been seen by everyone but her. It took all of a second to reach the fight, and a second more to join the fray. As Varn’s blade cut up, Andromeda’s cut down toward the Bryn’s outstretched arm, boosted by the force to give her the height she needed to make any attempt at all.
A faint frown subconsciously formed in the Jedi's expression as she felt the prodding intrusion of an outside Force in her mind. She fortified her own defences against the intruder and pushed back. She was well-trained in these arts and she would not be bested at her own game and the presence of another source of the Light side emanating through the Force gave her confidence for she was not alone in her endeavours.
Once her connection to the Hivemind was severed, her efforts quickly focused on the offender but he was quick to turn the offensive onto the Jedi and attacked them with Force blinding. It provided distraction since her efforts to disable him had ceased as she forced the attack from her mind to allow herself clarity once more.
"The Hivemind has been lost. Destroy-" She began telepathically communicating with all nearby allies but was cut short at the sudden gasp she made, drawing her from her trance.
The Jedi's gaze shifted down to the sharp ore protruding from her side and her hand immediately moved to her side and felt the warmness of the blood on her palm. Panic began to rise in the normally stoic Jedi Master but she tried to remain calm. She knew she needed to move away from the fight where several Mandalorians were engaging with the Ultras. She concluded was not in immediate danger since the bolt that hit her was a stray one.
Kiara willed herself to move, to stumble away from the ensuing battle, but there was nothing to grab onto to pull herself up and the blinding pain made it all the more difficult. She placed a hand on the floor in an attempt to push herself onto her feet but her legs would not support her so she fell back against the wall, her face contorted in pain.
Location: Nar Kreeta Equipment: Linked in bio Tags: @Literally everyone
While the Mandalorians couldn’t fully appreciate what the meditating Jedi were doing and how much skill it required of them, the warriors knew one thing and that was that the Jedi must be protected at all costs so when the duo of Force wielders had an attack launched against them, the defensive group leapt into action, providing distraction and opposition.
They charged towards their enemies to meet them with Kranak hanging back, closer to the Jedi, to provide supporting suppressive fire from his chain blaster while his allies directly engaged with the towering warriors. They were impressive adversaries, painfully so, but they were not invincible. They would fall at the Concord’s hand like their allies before them.
Ki’an fell back with his younger counterpart, Zeke, as they began to get pushed deeper in the tunnel and closer to the meditating Jedi, who it seemed they would soon need to evacuate, while they maintained ranged combat support in the form of blasters. “If we use our missiles, we could take them out in seconds.” The younger Mandalorian commented to Ki’an who immediately rebuked the other.
“Don’t do it. If you miss you could bring the tunnel down.” Ki’an replied, the pair almost shouting over the sound of the battle.
“That’s the point.” He returned.
In the corner of his eye, the red clad Mandalorian could see the other altering his stance, readying himself to launch the missile towards the ultras ahead. Without a second thought, he tackled the other to the ground and pinned him. “This is not a game! Do as I say.” He sounded more concerned than angry but promptly released the other. They could not afford to argue now. They needed cooperation more than ever.
In their moment of negligence, they had failed their duty in protecting the Jedi who relied on them.
She had heard the tales of the conflict of the Bryn, the style of their wars, and how it differed from anything she had encountered. The pacifist had come to defend the soldiers, and heal the wounded, but finding herself tied to the Valkyri and Jedi Masters of the Silver Order. The fighters were continuing their moves, but it threw Brooke into a strange position. She was going to have to keep the foes at bay from range. Lucky for Brooke she was not the totally defenseless Blue Coral Diver that she tried to be.
She was a trained Jedi Knight, and a daughter of Dathomir. Her approach to the Force was drastically different than the Jedi. Allyan Magick was built much more on intention than it was the quick Force tricks that the Jedi were capable of in combat. She had seen Nightsisters summon the dead, had herself befriended the creatures of the deep. And here? Here she was making the Force resonate in a frequency to shatter rock and bone.
Brown eyes tightening as she saw the leader of this fight block what she was sending. No matter. It gave her a focus. Eyes shifting from brown to the blue of the corals that her clan was known for. The elders of the clan were tempests at best, the uncontrolled storms of the sea at the worst. Seeing the two axes come towards her, the Witch raised her hand.
Seeing one of the axes bend, the smell of ozone rose in the area as a blue flash of lightning, not the evil and sickly purple of the Dark Side, but something different, cracked from her hand at the other axe, focusing her intent and the Force against the axe, but rolling to avoid it.
Getting to her feet, she ignited her lightsaber again, and let loose a siren’s scream, full of vibration and lightning in the direction of Krarolk T'manu
He felt powerful watching the floor crumple and shatter underneath his fists. Osam had never been as strong as the Baedurin Juggernauts, never as flexible and mentally adept as the Aeravalin; he had only ever survived on savagery and cunning even when it was not enough to secure victory. He'd fought so often to a stand-still, so often to a loss. Ever since he had fought that fateful battle when he had first lost his limb, everything had continued to fall apart. Every conflict carried with it the promise of further annihilation, further suffering.
But now he was stronger than he had ever been before! Now when he struck at a stone, it was not his bone that splintered, but the rocky mass! Now when he was faced with a chasm, he did not need to rappel into the gorge only to carefully make his way up the other end. Every obstacle could be overcome with the authority he carried as Warlord, and the wrapping of living flesh that had all but supplanted any necessity for protective materials. He felt like the Juggernauts must feel when they tore through the landscape. He felt like the Warlocks when they commanded legions with mere threads of thought.
Did the Titan see him now too? Did the Titan see that he had become an illustrious son? A worthy heir to the teachings he had inculcated?
In a blur of movement that could only be manufactured by one proficient in the Force, the Jedi slipped away from the crushing blow, and instead of a spattering of crimson and burst flesh he watched in disappointment as mere steel and concrete broke away. The Warlord was fully in control again, now that the matter with Amok-Tu had been fully settled, and his death had been openly broadcast by First Warlock Sethrak
. The one who had toed the line of becoming Tenebrak had redeemed himself greatly in recent months, hadn't he?
The slash caught him off-guard. It was always so rapid... so quick. The movements of those trusted with guardianship over the Force were always faster than expected, and while he had weathered a dozen blows against the hide, this particular strike was far better aimed than the others. With a burst of gelatinous material, the Quilxyn embedded within the armor's stomach was burst apart by the saber, scattering into a viscous melted material that flowed out onto the floor and back into the armor. It was hot from the touch of the lightsaber, but not enough to burn Osam... so little was capable enough to accomplish that feat.
Thankfully, the hide did not completely give way to the strike. The elemental protector had been obliterated by the blow, and now there was a fairly obvious point of weakness present upon his abdomen, but the burn against him had been fairly insubstantial - it had not been a stab, after all, but a slash. Panicked, the hybrid slammed his own hand against the scattered remnant of the Quilxyn, closing up the gap in his defenses, but leaving himself without one of his limbs for the purpose of combat.
The snap-hiss of a second lightsaber drew his attention, and in the mere second it took for him to turn to face this new threat, the younger of the two Jedi managed to slash out with their own strike, the saber landing against his arms - just above the wrists. Lines of hot plasmatic energy seared against the Flesh, burning against it, but incapable of cutting through the Ravager Hide. Nevertheless, what had once seemed to be an almost pristine - if not freakish - covering of skin was now very much crisscrossed with saber blows; evidence enough of the Flesh Vessel's immense resistance to such weapons.
The Flesh, upon being struck by the sabers, automatically lashed out with a wide swing toward Andromeda, less targeted and far more reactionary than his own blows against Varn had been. With sudden awareness, the hybrid became aware of a terrible weakness in the Flesh's design. Its living nature caused it to react, and while normally it could be suppressed if a blow could be seen coming, such surprising acts would cause it to lash out without permission from either Osam or the Hivemind. That would not have been such an awful thing... if one of his hands were not busy covering over the abdomen's opening. He leaped backward, allowing the Flesh to empower his movement as he sought to gain distance between the Knights and their lightsabers.
Battle rarely afforded an opportunity to recoup and reconsider one's tactics, and so the Warlord knew that he would need to create his own respite. With swift and well-practiced hands, the hybrid pulled the Pulverizer handgun from his side, directed it to the ground between himself and the Jedi, and promptly fired, allowing the mortar shell to slam against the floor and destabilize it. While he was not certain that he could out-fight the Knights, he did feel confident that he could out-fall them.
Well, the sequel wasn't exactly more pleasant than the beginning either. It was all infinitely embarrassing because they really didn’t have much to talk about. Dis very rarely met a person they couldn’t talk to about anything. Today was like that. The Shadowcat tried to ask questions, but it was quicker and easier to read from her head what they wanted to know. Although her mind was really mostly just full of fighting and horrible pictures.
However, at least the healing went well, the fighting was still going on in the area, but no one came to the part where they were. Everything in the area was ruined here, not to mention that fortunately they were covered, so not many could see them. The girl's injury slowly healed. At first, the bleeding stopped. Although she was still squeezed into the ruins, she could now position herself so that she could dig herself out, if she’ll be healed.
As the pain eased, Reidun was able to fully retract back under to the cover, be able to sit up, and was able to turn under the ruins, though with this the wounds were partially torn again. As they looked around the trapped part, it was already clear that if they were lucky, the girl would be able to dig herself out of here.
But in the meantime, Dis had to deal with the new injuries.
The telekinetic wave from the Jedi (Cadere
) slammed into the Aeravalin. The minuscule effort forced the Draevasier's feet to curl inward. An instinct that dug the superior creature's feet into the metal grated floor. A light 'snap' forced his thick toes to latch onto the edges, small gaps allowing Sylok to stand unwavered. Still, the Ashaka Mage held firm, his arm extended to hold the Debris in place against the onslaught from the sightless one. (Andromeda Malvern
) It was clear, at least to the Weaver, he was stronger in the force. The sheer weight of the miscellaneous objects, began to lose their mass. Sylok could feel her efforts dissipate, and just as the Jedi before him went to attack, Sylok felt the blind girl (Andromeda Malvern
) give up.
He sneered, following the motions of his true opponent. The lateral motion of the Jedi's body was easy to predict. Sylok's inner gear churning for the assailants true desire.
A kick…
Sylok reeled his left foot up, and as he did, his right arm finally retracted inward, debris in the distance cascading violently from where it once remained, the upper level. As his left foot rose his eyes lifted to that of the Jedi's waist. (Cadere
) The slow swing of the kick quickly snapped backwards. The Ashaka Mage had fell for it, a simple trick. He knew the Jedi were crafty and subtle in combat. But this, this was entirely confusing. Even more so as the Jedi's motion to lift himself upward made him far less balanced than that of the firm standing Draevasier in front of him.
More disturbing than that of the Jedi's risky effort, was that of the sudden needle striking through the red thin barrier to Sylok's right. The sheen of protection alerted him of the other Jedi's (Mathieu Brion
) attempt to get through. The force ushered the very thing he feared…
Failure.
The plasmatic red wall shimmered, casting shadows on the sneering Ashaka's face. The wall buckled, cracking and turning to small shattering pieces like glass. It sprayed outward from the force behind Mathieu Brion
's swing. Tiny shards spit toward Cadere
and Sylok like bullets. It didn't matter though. As the barrier broke, the more vibrant threat made itself known, a golden light thrusting in an upward motion for the Ashaka's face. The trajectory barely missing his foot as it found solace in the cold hard metal floor.
The Weaver was grounded. The Jedi (Cadere
) before him relied on aerial tactics, it wouldn't work. No, not this time. Sylok shifted on the heels of his large feet, twisting into a side-step that left his Kukri slashing through the air. The wet liquid of barricas oil sprayed upward, the blade meeting the golden saber. The curve along the blade letting it slide, but once Sylok applied his weight, each were stuck. Locked into a battle of strength. Sparks erupted as the saber and blade remained still.
Sylok wouldn't lose to a Jedi in a game of strength…
The meditating Drael, stationary as he was, appeared to have one foot in the supernatural realm, and another in the physical world. Whether it was intent or instinct, two bolts of energy lanced outwards from his meditative barrier, striking the heat grenades mid-flight. The pair of devices dropped like stones down the chasm. A third burst of discharge struck the grappling hook, discharge crackling down the wire and ultimately dissipating as it hit the energy caps of the arachnoid armor. However, the assault had impeded the velocity of the hook, which was gradually losing acceleration.
It would not strike the Hive.
The iron clad Zeltron had earned the attention of the Ultras, four of which turned to assail her. A series of EMP grenades rained down on her position, some popping mid-air while others were swatted away manually by the upper two legs of her exoskeleton. Electromagnetic energy pulsed across the field in small bursts that compounded on one another, loading the EMP drains on Yula’s armor just past their tipping point. Her rangefinder flickered and communications shut down.
Emily, divert energy to the legs. Don’t waste time trying to get the extras online.
The ports at the back of her neck burned and Yula grimaced.
The earthen walls Mig had erected to shield her were torn apart by one of the Drael warriors, wielding a harpoon. Clambering over the rubble, the Ultra sent his weapon surging towards the Rogue Jedi in a powerful thrust. The quick reflexes of Yula’s exoskeleton sent her hurdling out of the way, but the Ultra’s aim advanced aim caused a glancing blow to rip through the side of her armor. Yula tumbled to the ground as the shock reverberated through her, sparks angrily licking at the ragged perforation in her exoskeleton. She placed a hand at her side and withdrew it to find her fingers covered in dark crimson.
A beat passed. She pressed her thumb and forefinger together, initially confused at the slippery, yet sticky sensation of the substance on her hands. Then her eyes caught the subtle shimmer of the scarlet fluid. Her eyes swept down to the cracked tube on the ground.
Mauve Brick had saved her life.
Another Ultra appeared, this one hefting some sort of rocket launcher on his shoulder.
“That can’t be good.” She muttered to herself. The realization that she was not dead sent her mind into overdrive and her metallic feet scampering to lift her up into position once again. She looked to the Hive, then to the grappling hook—which had now lost all of its acceleration, and was falling. Shifting her focus, she called the hook back to her. Mid-retraction, she swung it around, using the Force to guide the rope to wrap tightly around the Ultra that had attacked her and pull the warrior in front of her.
The missiles fired, and she had her shield in place.
“Gred, if you’re still alive, I need your help again!”
Tried to keep track of the various engagements against me, let me know if I missed anything!
-Ostak zapped my grenades which went bye bye down the big hole in the ground.
-Ostak’s follow-up decelerated the grappling hook; it doesn’t make contact with the Hive.
-2 Ultras fire a series of EMP grenades which cause Yula’s main HUD features and communications to shut down.
-1 Ultra attacks her with a harpoon and pierces the side of her armor. The undeniable power of lip gloss keeps her alive.
-Another Ultra fires two acid missiles at her; Yula partially retracts the grappling hook and uses it to wrap around the first Ultra that initially attacked her, telekinetically pulling him in front of her as a shield from the missiles.
-Mig help pls
Time seemed to progress slower as the battle raged one whilst Mathieu remained trapped behind the barrier. The action never really paused as the closer one of the Bryn engaged both his best friend in Cassie and fellow Padawan in Andromeda. A wave of relief washed over him as the barrier shattered, allowing him free access to once more rejoin the fray. The large Morellian, with his blue blade in one hand and the slugthrower in the other rushed forth to aid his friend. The shattered glass-like pieces of the barrier would more than likely not be a bother for the Kiffar - after he had jumped over Sylok previously, both the shards and Mathieu himself would be coming from the complete opposite direction, meaning that Sylok's back would become a handy shield for the Jedi.
Cassie had produced a telekinetic attack but their foe barely seemed to budge as he locked himself into the ground and as the Knight soared into the air with his attack, Sylok remained staunch. Even as the Knight's blade was about to connect, his feet remained dug into the ground, seemingly with the full intents of locking blades with the attacker. Mathieu, seeing his opening, raised his one arm and fired off three L'Escargot slugs with incendiary charges. Perhaps the opponent wouldn't mind the heat as he certainly seemed to be alright with the cold - but what was needed now was something to weaken him, and the drill heads would do just that. Mathieu's eyes followed as the three slugs raced towards their targets - one just by the bottom of the spine and the other two at the left leg. Although the Padawan didn't know if they would hit, he had been careful to fire the shots relatively low to ensure that there was no risk of hitting his friend who was now up high in a blade lock.
Of course, Sylok was a fair bit larger than the Knight whom his blade had locked with. Mathieu was well aware of the risks and knew that one of them consisted of having his friend thrown at him. Still, he charged on at a high pace but instead of going for a devastating and lethal stab in the back, he would instead abruptly decrease his pace and reach forth with a low slash that threatened their opponent's right ankle. Normally, his less lethal actions were fuelled by a sense of compassion and belief in redemption. Perhaps those ideals still lingered somewhere but in its core, this was different - he had just been forced to just stand there and witness his friend fight for his life alone. Alone. While Cassie was good at joking things away, it was nothing Mathieu wanted to see a repeat of. And to achieve that, compassion wasn't important.
THE NEW JEDI ORDER | ASHLAN WARRIOR OBJECTIVE II | HIVEBUSTERS | THE PABOL OFFENSIVE Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it. BUDDY YOU'RE A BIG BOY, MAKING BIG NOISE
Ishida was a torpedo through blood, skin and stone, and she only stopped when the corridor narrowed to a bottleneck.
Intrepid as ever, the Padawan’s eyes locked on the Hive Mind’s gatekeeper and found herself enamoured by his glory. His carapace was rough, red, and thick. Like hardened blood that stretched over his incredible structure and scarred from many battles over. And yet, remained standing resolute and focused. An insatiable desire to carve it from his frame overwhelmed her, and she imagined sectioning parts of it as strike zones that would be refit and remodeled as a chest piece, vambraces...she involuntarily licked her lips.
Incredible armour potential aside, he was a monster of evil, suppressing hope with his xenophobic crusade. That was her justification; that is how she’d succeed in searing his skin from his bones to make something permanent of it for herself. Into a trophy.
Despite the dread that culminated around the great titan, darkness swirled and created something that felt like an absence. Around the well of his existence, the benevolence of the Ashla from all the Jedi thrummed. They filled the margins of the space brightly without illuminating anything or casting shadows. On that, she focused. That dynamic.
In a contest of duality, only one could succeed. And it would be Ashla. It would always be the light. It had to be.
The soundless Master charged first, her cool, commanding voice brushing the minds of those ready to listen. Then, a purple blade joined in. And Dagon.
Other masters dropped to their seats –– and Ishida quickly re-categorized her interpretation of brainy ones, acknowledging that indeed Bernard did not fit in that group.
Salvos unleashed to either side, about where she was, to the other Bryn’adûl mutations. They howled, screeched and roared in defiance and agitation. Eruptions came next, and then black clouds of smoke became an inconvenience to them; and a wicked grin licked across Ishida’s mouth. A wordless compliment to the chaotic events unfolding within seconds of each other.
With Yula, Ishida had no option to vault headlong to the Titan. Which was a shame –– the horns of his head would make for an excellent hilt paired with Ashina steel; a sword for the ages. She thirsted for it longingly, her mouth dry with desire. But she set her teeth on edge, steeling her focus. Their objective was the hivemind; and Tathra –– as glorious as he was –– was a protective distraction.
Just as she would serve, as the Arachnid alien launched into the hive’s underbelly.
Shots that fired at the Jedi in the suit were met by a whirlwind of light, arcing and rotating to deflect the energy that sought to harm her ally.
A bark of surprise ripped from her throat when one of the massively armoured bodyguards looked to position after Yula, and she gathered a wad of telekinetic energy about her free hand before seeking to magnetize it in the direction of the fired missile. Yula seemed to be reacting in kind though, and yanked one of the Ultras in front of her to consume the majority of the missile Ishida’d decelerated just a bit with her telekinetic draw.
Okay, good –– and the Mandalorian would help. If he could.
That still left a mass of evildoers to deal with. There were so, so, so many of them. So many to rise, so many to fall.
That wicked grin deepened with her appetite to prove her worthiness as Ashla’s soldier.
Drawing in a deep, centering breath, the little warrior tried to parse through the violence. The beautiful violence.
In a typhonic blur, the tiny feet of the Atrisian swordswoman sped up with the breath of The Force. She dipped low, hacking at small junctures of what she thought might be weak points in the armour; behind hamstrings, around the groin, armpits –– dismayingly non-fatal –– and used those that became unsteady enough to buckle and get a little lower as springboards to leap forward into attack against the next Ultra. The Juggernauts were insatiable, ferocious, and had excellent aim. If she didn’t have the foresight of The Force, she would have exploded like five times by now.
But she was more than a little soldier drenched in blood –– she was a warrior of Ashla. It was her, her blades, and her fervent focus and alignment with the light.
Her foot struck at the well armoured juncture between one of the Ultra’s neck and shoulder, and she launched upward and away from the tumult; hopefully leaving more wounded than when she’d started. Ishida tightened in the air, making herself smaller in her trajectory, before unfurling entirely with both her weapons –– her Ashina steel Katana and her lightsaber –– unsheathed as an X to come down on the Drael that seemed to be in a commanding position alike Tathra. She couldn’t prevent the excited yell that blossomed from her throat that served as an off-kilter battlecry.
As a rule, the Bryn'adul weren't known for their subtle tactics. Most of the time it boiled down to: Hit thing with bigger thing until the first thing stops living. As Beltran faced down the Bryn'adul elite (Abvor), there was no surprise when the being went for its axe. From the weapons that Beltran could see it carried, the axe gave it the most benefit on the creature's greatest advantage: range. Also it was heavy, probably too heavy for even Captain Mrawr to pick up even while wearing the A.I.P.S. armor. For Beltran wearing the lighter Mk. III Katarn Armor, Abvor's supposition that even a glancing blow would likely turn Beltran's body into the consistency of blood-berry pie filling.
The Lorrdian also figured, in the split second before the cleaver would make impact, that trying to deflect the blade with his twin sabered pike would likely only end with a broken arm from the kinetic energy of the swing. So, he did the only thing that made sense: He got the hell out of the way. Moving in the span of an eyeblink, Beltran took two steps to the side and turned his body that he presented as small a profile as possible.
As the massive blade swung down, it missed the Lorrdian by barely a few centimeters.
Continuing the motion, Beltran stepped and twirled himself around, spinning in place and used the building momentum in his counter swing. He then swung his lightsaber pike at the back of Abvor's leg, looking to intersect the muscular appendage at the back of the knee.
On either side of him, Paladins rushed forward continuing to take ground, while the cavern shook violently with the power of Caltin Vanagor
's attack.
As Beltran followed through his swing, his comms buzzed to life.
"Hades one for Colonel Rarr."
It was Lieutenant Doss. Backing away from the Bryn'adul, Beltran triggered his battlenet with a flick of his eyes.
"Send it," Was all he could manage as he began to move forward once more, twirling his pike and looking for an opening to press his attack.
"We've penetrated the surface up to the shield surrounding the Construct's super structure. Lost another squad in the process, but have linked up with a platoon from the 666th and are currently holding position. Looks like your assault has garnered most of the defenders' attention. Near as we can tell, we're the only other Rangers who've made it this far. We don't have enough conventional explosives to realistically do any damage to the shield so I need authorization for the nuclear option."
Beltran feinted to the right and dashed left, trying to get inside the Elite's guard even as he considered the Lieutenant's words. Deploying the thermonuclear charges, might truly be the only way now. Thurion Heavenshield
still appeared to be unconscious and Master Vanagor was far too busy to provide his counsel on the matter.
"Deploy the devices," Beltran decided in that moment. "Authorization Rarr-Alpha-Obsidian-Two. Slave the detonation subroutines to my personal com frequency and begin exfil from the area once complete. If we can knock the shield out, perhaps Major Ecks and the 3rd can push forward and get inside."
"Hades one copies all. Wilco. Hades one, out."
Hades Platoon – 31/50 Rangers – Landing via Kreetle-Class Drop Miner Pods, burrowing beneath surface toward Super Construct
Commanded by Lieutenant Jesson Doss Current Disposition: One drop pod destroyed before landing. All remaining have landed successfully and are enroute to tunnel system. UPDATE: Two squads confirmed successful infiltration up to the Super Construct. Currently deploying two (2) Thermonuclear Charges in attempt to knock out shield grid.
Equipped with:
666[SUP]th[/SUP] Mechanized Infantry – ???/300 Rangers - Landing via Kreetle-Class Drop Miner Pods, burrowing beneath surface toward Super Construct - Commanded by Lt. Colonel Higgus (Killed in Action), Major Stown now commanding Current Disposition: Approximately 100 Rangers killed in Drop Pod Malfunctions. Others landed successfully and beginning to move toward objectives. UPDATE: One platoon confirmed successful infiltration to the outside of the Super construct. Acting to support Hades Platoon in achieving mission objective.
Equipped with:
Paladin Company – 142/150 Rangers – Landing via Kreetle-Class Drop Miner Pods, burrowing beneath surface toward Super Construct
- Commanded by Captain Harbok Mrawr Current Disposition: Directly engaging Krarolk T'manu's forces on the Right Flank.This is Beltran Rarr's location.
Equipped with:
Rangers 3[SUP]rd[/SUP] Infantry – 1150/1800 Rangers – Landing on Surface to engage defending Bryn'adul Forces and provide cover for burrowing units - Commanded by Major Ecks Current Disposition: Assaulting Super Construct on surface, enemy shields stalling advance, ARES FIGHTERS attempting to bring down shields. Advance halted by enemy counter attacks. Continuing to pepper shields with indirect fire and CAS. Equipped with:
The King of Midvinter lay unconscious upon the ground, his body being fought over by friend and foe alike. While his phrik armour had absorbed the worst of the heavy fall, it was the act of taking upon himself that terrible blow that had rendered his senses numb and unresponsive. Within his mind, foul dreams had begun to take hold.
Flashes of his homeworld under assault; of his city in flames, and most unimaginable of all, images of members of his family butchered, each more disturbing than the last. Bodies, and parts of bodies, strewn about upon the blood-soaked snow. Stumbling through the awful scene, Thurion fell to his knees by the most horrid sight of them all:
His lifelong love and companion Coci Heavenshield
, gasping for air while pinned to the wall, hung up like some twisted piece of art. "You've failed, my love," she uttered with ragged breath. "You failed us all..." And then she was dead. Like all the others. His wife, his children, his grandchildren. All of Midvinter.
Screaming in pain, Thurion then was forced to witness a thousand more worlds fall to the Bryn'adûl. An entire galaxy, wiped out in service of their single-minded goal. Trillions of souls forever lost, and all hope along with them.
All these things that would come to pass, were he to fall this day. If he were not there to protect his people.
Back in the world of the living, on that battlefield between allied forces and those of the Bryn, an unconscious King mustered enough strength to raise his hand and extend his fingers. The Force worked through him, breathing life in him again.
His sword and shield had been lost when he fell, likely thought of as easy war loot by any enemy coming across such fine works of smithing. Both these relics were bonded to their creator however, and would serve no other until his time on this world was through. His shield would appear as immovable as a mountain to anyone attempting to lift it, and his sword would ignite the palm of whoever foolish enough to pick it up with the heat of a sun.
Yet when Thurion raised his hand even in his sorry state, these objects were transported from wherever they resided until back in their creator's possession. Anarion was first to arrive, finding the palm of his extended hand and infusing him with life once more, just as it had in the time of the Crone's debilitating poison. Grasping the hilt, the King arose from his slumber with renewed strength, rising to his full height.
Now arrived the Shield of Heaven, finding its way through the fighting until it attached itself to his left arm. His body restored, he raised Anarion over his head and let shine a heavenly light as if he himself were the sun. This light reached far deeper and shone far brighter than ever before, illuminating the entire surrounding tunnel network leading towards their target, now bright as day.
Meanwhile, the roof of the tunnel seemed to crumble under some unseen weight, about to cave in on itself on top of the frontline of Valkyri warriors. Large chunks of rocks fell from the cavern ceiling, capable of burying vast portions of their forces as well as close off the tunnel from further assault. Thurion stuck his sword into the ground and extended his hand, palm facing upward. With eyes closed he proved his mastery of the Force by seizing possession of these falling rocks, causing them to slow to a stop mid-air.
A few nearby padawans realised what was happening, lending their strength to his cause by assuming command of the smaller rocks, leaving the larger ones to the Jedi Master. The smaller chunks were cast aside where they would do no harm. The big ones, however, Thurion sought a better use for.
Assured that he held them within his power, he thrust his hand forward, sending the chunks of falling rocks toward the enemy, looking to crush them underneath their own hubris. These Bryn may have strength of arms and superior numbers, but where the Force was concerned they would not out-perform a master practitioner of his caliber. He's been doing this for the last sixty years, and has only grown stronger with age.
It was now he leapt back into the fray, for the dreadful visions he'd seen moments earlier served only to empower him. There is no force in this world or the next that he would not gladly face so that his family may be safe. Leaping over the staunch shieldwall of his Valkyri brethren, he came before them in command once more.
His presence was enough to solicit cries of joy and reignite the fire within their souls.
"Follow me now, for the Free Peoples of every world!"
With those words their King charged into battle once more, carving a path through the rampaging Bryn with renewed zeal. His kinsmen maintaining the unbreakable shieldwall let out a unified warcry in the ancient tongue of their ancestors, before activating their rocket boosters located at the back of each suit of power armour. The shieldwall was maintained even as their lines now drove into the enemy, pushing them back with ever-increasing fervour.
Once their short but powerful boost was expended, their energy shields retreated back into the device built into their left vambraces in favour of now bathing in the blood of their foes, wielding their massive two-handed weapons. Now was the time to go on the offensive and break through the enemy defenses.
For a brief moment, her eyes met those of the Titan. Lilac clashed with aureate in a second that felt like an entire minute. The sheer direction of the Draelvasier chieftain was enough to paralyze some Knights she knew. Sakadi however, did not so much as even flinch. She met him with serene determination, clarity, and a level of focus the Draelvasier should have been more wary of.
After all, the greatest powers could flow from the smallest streams. The smallest candle could set a forest ablaze, and the smallest pebble could create a devastating rockslide. Likewise, this strike-team could take down the Titan of Draemidus Prime. She caught it in his surface thoughts - how he dismissed them. But no amount of power, or opponent previously fought made one impervious.
Perhaps, Odara, that is exactly why you trained me.
Because I had no desire to be a warrior.
Because you knew I would not rely on your techniques unless absolutely necessary…
The Jedi Master advanced like lightning, her every move a blur to the untrained and unfocused eye. Every swipe of her blade aimed at gaps in the Draelvasier ultras their armor. For unlike the Bryn, she did not abide to a code of honour. Her elegant dance of death continued through the corridor, until she was no less than five meters away from the Titan himself. Barely out of the Titan's axe's reach - forcing him to lunge if he truly wanted to harm her. That, in turn, would give her ample time to evade.
Forgive me, Odara. But it is truly necessary now.
She raised her free hand, two fingers pointed upward as she made a quick, wave-like gesture. One that would send forth a powerful wave of Malacia, directly aimed at the Draelvasier chieftain himself. It was a release of the roiling energy within her - the power she had been building. But it was nothing close to the eruption of the dormant volcano that was Sakadi. No. This was only the beginning of their battle.
The Jedi Master kept moving. She recognized the danger of the axe, the weapon now being mere inches away from her. But another factor in this battle was Dagon Kaze. He had landed behind their opponent, and would be able to inflict great injury… If given the chance.
Thus, Sakadi went low. Attempting to duck and move left of the axe, with her blade thrusting toward the nearest gap she found in the plating of his right leg. She anticipated that Dagon and her assault on the Titan's equilibrium would be enough to make her own reckless attempt to slip through his guard an immediate threat. A threat that would, in turn, give the New Jedi Order's Padawan more of an opportunity.
- Closed the gap between opponents, as started in last post.
- Used building power of last post to perform a Force attack with Malacia
- Immediately followed up with a thrust at the right leg.
Sakadi Marathi Sinvala
Kiara Ayres
Mig Gred
Jairdain
Dagon Kaze
Yula Perl
[/B]
Bernard of Arca
Ishida Ashina
Primarch Drek'ma
Galak
Ostak Cl'mana (engaging)
