Invasion Allegiance: SJC invasion of Bryn'adûl held Nar Chunna, Nar Kreeta, Cyborrea and Klantooine

[Liram Angellus]

GAME ON YAKHEAD!​

LOCATION: Open Space

Spoiler: SHIP AND FIGHTER MAKEUP

SHIP NAME: ETHEREAL
SHIP CLASS: CARRIER
SHIP CAPTAIN: LIRAM ANGELLUS
COMMAND STAFF
EQUIPPED: 25x L4Vele Series Deployable Defense turrets.

FIGHTER COMPLIMENT: "VOODOO WING"
CALLSIGNS: Captain Angellus "Maverick" is and will always be "Voodoo 1", Commander Rojuh Pouil "Starlight" is "Voodoo 2" Commander Scoht Pouil "Meteor" is "Voodoo 3". Each Squadron leader makes up "Voodoo Wing", their individual squadrons and make-ups are named below.

HIGH-SPEED INTERCEPTION

1. Voodoo 4(Retribution Squadron)Jackal Class Starfighter
2. Voodoo 5(Jurat Squadron) Jackal Class Starfighter
3. Voodoo 6(Retribution Squadron)Jackal Class Starfighter

LONG RANGE INTERCEPTION

1. Voodoo 7(Gator Squadron) Archangel class Fighter/Interceptor
2. Voodoo 8(Raguel Squadron) Archangel class Fighter/Interceptor
3. Voodoo 9(Beak Squadron) Archangel class Fighter/Interceptor
4. Voodoo 10(Jok Squadron) Archangel class Fighter/Interceptor

MULTIPURPOSE SUPERIORITY FIGHTER

1. Voodoo 11(Razorback Squadron) NC-1 X-Wing
2. Voodoo 12(Jurist Squadron) NC-1 X-Wing
3. Voodoo 13(Fi Squadron) NC-1 X-Wing
4. Voodoo 14(Prac Squadron) NC-1 X-Wing
5. Voodoo 15(Tic Squadron) NC-1 X-Wing
6. Voodoo 16(Alcalde Squadron) NC-1 X-Wing

STEALTH/RECON FIGHTER

1. Voodoo 17(Kers Squadron) RZ-3 A-Wing interceptor
2. Voodoo 18(Requital Squadron) Azazael class Stealth fighter
3. Voodoo 19(Scimitar Squadron) Azazael class Stealth fighter

BOMBERS W ESCORT

1. Voodoo 20(Que Squadron) Demon Class Bomber
2. Voodoo 21(M'lud Squadron) Demon Class Bomber
3. Voodoo 22(Gatto Squadron) Demon Class Bomber
4. Voodoo 23(Vulcano Squadron) Soverenignty Class Heavy/Assault Fighter
5. Voodoo 24(Bulwark Squadron) Soverenignty Class Heavy/Assault Fighter

SUPPORT/TRANSPORTS

1. Voodoo 25(Artillery Squadron) Cherub Gunship
2. Voodoo 26(Ferret Squadron) Cherub Gunship
3. Voodoo 27(Ferret II Squadron)Cherub Transport
4. Voodoo 28(Ferret III Squadron)Cherub Transport

Spoiler: ETHEREAL MARINES

Seraphim Marines
Powered Armor
Cherub Troop Transport
Cherub Gunship
Saraquael Fighting Vehicles
A-2319 Tanks

Spoiler: ANGELLUS LORE

Is here.

ORDERS: Tear into the Bryn
WINGMATES: Gir Quee ADM. Reshmar Mig Gred Tathra Khaeus Galak Krarolk T'manu Beltran Rarr Thurion Heavenshield Brooke Waters Westenra Mina

”Can we get help to ”The SoulMarcher”?”

Halpern looked at him quizzically.

”The Mandalorians! That ship is going to do the Bryn ship what we did to the Sith!”

Halpern quickly punched up a few buttons. “Chief Gribbs, prepared the deck for escape pods, and incoming relief vessels.”

“On it.”

” Divert all X-wings to start taking out surface cannons on the Bryn vessels, ArchAngel and Jackals as well. All turrets not focusing on ground targets should be targeting Bryn vessels.”

As Halpern began putting the orders into action, Liram began looking over the different areas and what was happening. This idea of just wasting energy firing on cannons was stupid, but the fleet was not his to command, so “whatever”, he followed orders. He didn’t argue so much as he respect Admiral Quee, but a dumb order was a dumb order, and grousing was better than openly casting aspersions.

It was almost boring until reports started coming in of the Bryn’a’dul response to the Mandalorian’s actions.

The “Seraphim” Marines were finally down as a full regiment and not just several units. Colonel Telaskt was normally in (or on top of) a fighting vehicle, but this time she was on one of the Haniel tanks. They were strong and efficient and would prove to be the best decision she could have made. Constant updates from The Ethereal made entry into the tunnels a fairly easy avenue. Make no mistake, there was plenty of opposition, but this is 6,000 Marines, fighting vehicles, and tanks moving in waves without stopping. They pushed in hard and punched holes in defenses. The losses were nominal but the Marines seemed to fight harder with each loss, a testament to how close-knit and bonded they were becoming.

Their big test was about to come though as the gunships were slowly following picked up any stragglers. The entire group ran head-on into a mass of Jedi and Bryn in the middle of combat and the first thing they heard was:

"Flay the Midvinter swine!"

… and then…

"Gunboats on my position! Deploy Ravager Gunboats now!”

Now, none of them speak Draelvasier so it wasn't clear what was being yelled, and by "wasn't clear" you should understand "no one could make heads or tails of it". However, they did see one of those that looked to be leading others point at a fall... wait. Is that a king? It is! It's Midvinter's king! It's King Heavenshield, he was fallen and they were going to kill him! All the Colonel could think was… and she thought very much aloud… “Oh, FRELL NO!” They were attacking Midvinter? The Heavenshields were LEGEND! She recognized Paladin Company, they were tough, there were loads of Jedi there, it was getting fierce and they needed to be reinforced.

Climbing up on the top of the lead tank, she looked back at all of the jarheads, no matter where they were and what they were on.

“Improvise, adapt, and overcome. OORAH!”

All that could be heard among them was “OORAH!”

Spoiler: SUMMARY OF ACTIONS

...

 

[Sethrak]

Main Objective: For Soot and Soil
Side Objective: Find The Lothal Guard
Location: The Central Section
Post: 6
​

Sethrak had orders, he would go through with them, reluctantly. He didn't want to give some report to a warlord that was causing dissent, but he would do what he was ordered to do. He sensed the same disturbance that Ostak had. It was strong, and clear: Tathra was in danger. Sethrak ignored the warning. Tathra was strong, and Ostak was assisting him, they would be okay. At least for now...

With Ostak gone, the warlock sprinted to the nearest elevator. The Warlord would be up top, "commanding" the troops. Sethrak entered the elevator, reading the report to himself as he ascended. He outranked the Warlord, but not on the planet necessarily, as the man was the warlord. They were...equals...in a way. Sethrak scoffed at the thought. He had worked for his position, he wasn't about to show respect to his inferior.

The elevator stopped, and Sethrak stepped out into a large and dark room. The area was calm, and in the center of it was Warlord Amok-tu himself. Surrounding the warlord were several Ahkenaton and Vaydralen, their heads lowered slightly as if in shame or anger, but their faces showing no emotion. They stood still, nearly statues, and The Warlord towered over them, even the Ahkenaton was several heads shorter.

The little sound inside was odd given the battle outside, which caused vibrations and muffled explosions. Sethrak felt that, in a battle, the command center should be fairly noisy. Not even chaotic, but the commanders should be commanding.

It became more and more clear that this "warlord" was grossly incompetent. This only furthered Sethrak's rage. He gave no acknowledgement to the warlock as he walked toward him. He could barely conceal his anger at the pathetic warlord, telling himself again and again, Restraint, Sethrak. There is a battle at hand, you have a job.

"Warlord Amok'to. I have your beast report....."​

 

[Sylok'Vanari]

Post #4
Location: Planet's Surface, Nar Kreeta | Surface Command Center, Eastern Covenant Section - Lower Level
Objective: Platitudes and Decisive Action
Gear: Model A - Verikast Drone Armor | Barricas Oil | Superior Restoration Mutagen | x1 Barad Kukri | x3 Barad Impact Grenades
Allies: Osam | The Bryn'adûl
Enemies: Mathieu Brion | Cadere | Varn Barakis | Andromeda Malvern
Intent to Engage: Mathieu Brion | Cadere | Andromeda Malvern

A shift.

It's all it took, the unpredictable switch being pulled ruthlessly away from him. Bright blue and green strands of thick force flooded his vision, eyes making contact with the first threat to charge. Another Jedi, Sylok knew all too well; all it meant was another trick. Another wasteful attempt to end his life, a life that the weak Kiffar ( Cadere ) didn't understand. All the training the opposition had done, Draelvasier did ten fold. Every motion, every bead of sweat achieved, the Draelvasier had already broken. Not in practice, but in war.

Pathetic attempts wouldn't work, or would they?

The blinding motion of the charging Jedi, caught the Ashaka off guard, only for the briefest of moments.

Regrettably, for Sylok; it was just enough.

The Aeravalin's sense kicked into hyper drive as the swaying tangles of the force bathed him once more. The shift returning back into his favor. Alerts echoed through his body, manifesting the reality of his situation. Silver spinning tips tore through the air ( Mathieu Brion ), cylindrical containers attached to the rear end glossed over with an ice blue. Sylok sneered, his deep jaw line swayed to the right. Then just as the first projectile came for his shoulder, his left hand jerked wide. The lengthy fingers showed claws for nails, palm stiff and vertical. Before he called on the force, his eyes widened. Again, too slow. The first made impact with his shell, pauldrons made out of his own anatomical carapace taking the brunt of the hit. Sylok could feel it digging, the metal twisting and grinding. It tried to fight its way in. He had to ignore it. Whatever came of it, it didn't mean death; he hoped.

The second shot, felt the tiny impact of a sudden invisible wall. The red and orange sheen of the protection ricocheting the shot downward, before the Ashaka Weaver leaned backwards. The arc of a saber from the initial Jedi ( Cadere ), causing him to pivot backwards. Despite the Aeravlin's size, he was quick. The mage tracked the foolish enemy. Aerial tactics were dangerous, even for a Jedi.

Sylok turned, and as he went to grip the limber leg of the Jedi with his right arm; thick liquid spit outward from his body. The sound of a crunch forcing him to retract his attempt, saving the lucky whelp. The drill-like projectile had done its job well. The Drael let out a small groan, before the unexpected happened. A film of ice-cold spread through him, the pain slowly subsiding as his body eased itself into a comfort. They had learned of the Baedurin, but not the Aeravalin. Sylok backed away from the Jedi. ( Cadere ) His left hand lifted, grabbing onto the thick end of the arrowhead. He winced, watching the Jedi throw a grenade towards Osam . Again, he knew the Warlord would be smart enough to deal with it. Still, as the chilling ammunition was pulled from his body, Sylok fixated on one thing, another Jedi. ( Andromeda Malvern )

He could feel her in the force, the swirls of unpredictable power weighing her down. Even so, she remained a threat to Osam . If they were going to resort to dishonorable tactics, so would the Ashaka Mage. In the blink of an eye, Sylok snatched another thread of the force. The power surging through him creating a thin barrier between him and Mathieu Brion . It was a strategic play, pinning Cadere with him. The biggest thing about the newly formed barrier would be the prevention of more bullets, whether threatening or not. It wouldn't hold for long, but it would be enough for the Ashaka.

The Aeravalin's eyes tucked inward, a sinister shift of his maw clamping tightly now. He wouldn't allow any of them to get out alive. He could feel the previous bond with the one staring him down, short bursts of images replaying the events of Sev Tok in his mind. They should have already been dead. A trophy only for memories. With the barrier up, Sylok's eyes left Cadere for only a few seconds. The grey pools of determination steered toward Andromeda Malvern . The barrage of debris heading for Osam forced his hand. The mage felt a tiny searing pain, but he lifted his right arm with haste, a spiral of contorted and heavy energy pulsing from it. A wave of air ruptured through the compound before it intercepted the debris. Most of it, or rather all of it, should have been locked in a stasis. Sylok's arm remained firm, his left hand reaching for his belt.

His eyes averted back to Cadere . It was time to kill them. Sylok's left hand came out from behind him. A blade from his father, a Barad Kukri glistened with barricas oil.

It was about time the Jedi's luck ran out...

​

 

[Dis]

Dis the Shadow(cat)
Shadowcat, explorer and wanderer; Owner of the Cat’s Paw; Member of the Greystone Mercantile​

Objective IV.: Make friends, BYOO
Location: Nar Kreeta
Equipment: N/A
Writing with: Reidun Amersis

[ Theme ] ​

Dis that kind of Shadow was who never possessed anyone unless they agreed. At the beginning of their existence, they did so, as did the majority in general, but they felt bad about it, so switched to complete symbiosis. That was exactly the reason they still asked permission to do anything. The Shadowcat thought it was the best way to go. Although they were able to give false memories or modify existing ones so that the host would not remember anything, they still felt the permission was the right behaviour.

That’s why they explained to Reidun what they wanted to do, that Dis didn't want to hurt her, just go into her body and heal her that way. They'll just be there, won't even take control of her unless she wants to. And if they’re already there, they’d love to learn the Draelvasier language as well, because it might still be easier for them to be able to speak that language than to keep reading her thoughts out of her head all time.

It took quite a few minutes because Reidun was distrustful, the Shadowcat couldn’t know, but for the first time in her life, she spoke to a “person” who didn’t belong to the Draelvasiers, so she was insecure about it, and of course she didn’t understand the Force. However, Dis ultimately successfully convinced her that this was all in her best interests and that they wanted to save her. That was true, for the Shadowcat, all life mattered equally.

And it was precisely because of this that they were a little sad that the Jedi were not allowed to learn from them because they also have friends among the Sith. Eventually, by agreement, they possessed Reidun's body and set out with their abilities to heal her.

 

[Dagon Kaze]

THE NEW JEDI ORDER
OBJECTIVE II | HIVEBUSTERS | THE PABOL OFFENSIVE
THE DARK KNIGHT
​

Dagon only had a brief luxury of time to steal a glance at the arrival of his New Jedi comrades - Bernard and Ishida - and give them a reassuring nod before the group rushed forward towards the Hive. None of them might come out of here alive but they had to stoke the fire of hope at any cost. The fire that would set ablaze the horde of evil and free the galaxy of its plague. Hope was all that remained.

Yula was the first to act at the first sign of hostility, the urge to call out her recklessness subsided at the sight of the behemoth standing steadfast to meet the onslaught of the Jedi. His familiar presence like an unyielding rock in a sea of violent tides. Unwavering, unmovable, unbreakable. Tathra Khaeus . The Chieftain of the Bryn'adul. The titan responsible for the countless stars lost to oblivion, the goliath standing atop the ruin of the galaxy. His massive shadow looming over the group as it loomed over the galaxy - a symbol of the darkness he had begun to weave and envelop across the stars.

Fear.

Like a frigid dagger, fear ran down his spine planting him in place. The resolve in his feet began to dissipate at the sight of the Draelvasier's Chief, his connection to the Ashla flickered, wavering, seeking to cower. For a long time he had not felt the cold snare of dread shackle his soul to the point that he wanted to turn back and flee. The last time he had felt it was when he had met his long lost twin brother, Aeric Kaze , on the spires of the Ziost Sith Academy. All scenarios, all plans that had run through his calculating mind turned to dust at first contact with Khaeus. A familiar voice, one he had believed the Jedi Crusader Sardun had neutered eternally, echoed in his mind.

Reclaim your legacy, son.

Only the power of the Dark Side could bring true deliverance.

The voice of his long dead father, the legendary Sith Triumvir Haytham Kaze . His corruption rattling the cage in which Sardun had placed him, clawing at the rays of light confining him in eternal purgatory in Dagon's soul. Haytham could sense the wavering of Dagon's bond to the Light Side, the fragilizing of the locks that kept him away from wrestling control of the young Jedi - the same way he had done with his brother Aeric. The dark side's tendrils lashed out relentlessly at their confinement. The last time Dagon had tapped into these dormant powers, tasted the strength of the dark side he had saved Kaska Arden from demise over Ziost.

Why not--

..

The price had been too high, it had cost him his bond with Kaska and the life of his loved one - Ayana Vullen . But the inevitability of their predicament, the unmeasurable stakes at hand; all begged the question if it was worth it, if it meant stopping the Bryn'adul and giving the galaxy hope. As if time had stopped still, Dagon witnessed those around him - all basked in hope, in to see it all through.

All had put their faith in the Light.

He reached out for that same, shared resolve that bonded each of the Jedi around him - the spark. And he ignited it within his soul to cauterize the taint of his father, to cleanse his mind of corruption and melt the chains of fear holding him back. The existential dilemma felt as if it had lasted an eternity, but not more than a heartbeat passed.

"Dagon. Kranak. And any others who can keep up. With me."

Dagon latched onto Sakadi's laced with tenacity telepathic message echoing through his mind and steeled his resolve. The wild-eyed expression of dread abated, replaced by a determined frown directed at the Chieftain of the Bryn'adul.

Empyrean flame of blue danced wildly in his wrathful glare.

Ashla beckoned.

And he followed her in dutiful service, flanking Sakadi in their mutual charge against the Titan. The blue blade drew a feign in the form of a horizontal crescent before the crusader leaped high above the Chieftain and sent a blast of telekinetic energy down atop his head aiming to nestle him place and open an opportunity for someone else's attack. His athletic attempt would have him land behind the behemoth.

ALLIES | SJC | GA | NJO | CIS | Yula Perl [PARTNER] | Ishida Ashina | Bernard of Arca | Jairdain | Ripley Kühn | Mig Gred | Kiara Ayres | Sakadi Marathi Sinvala | Jacen Nimdok | Ki'an Vizsla | Gerwald Lechner | Oleander Webb | Millu Lee | Vanya Aklin | Maja Fiore | Liam Du'Cal | Teyla Sal-Soren | Milya Vondar


ENEMIES | THE BRYNADUL | Tathra Khaeus [ENGAGING]

 

[Quoron Ver'dum]

Objective: Undecided
Location: Eastern Section, Vaydralen barrack exterior
Allies: Craldzaer | Thur'Zak | Osam | Sylok'Vanari |
Enemies: TBD
Armour | Shield | Ravager Marksmen Rifle | Mangler Submachine Gun | Syphon Beam Rifle |

Quoron darted close, dodging an explosion right in front of him, mortar fire from the Concord no doubt as the three way fight continued. Akhenaton and Vaydralen fought as those among them who didn't allow themselves to be consumed by paranoia and hate attempted to protect them. When the Vaydralen saw Crald hesitate, he thought there was a chance - just maybe they could stop this. Together. That possibility became slim as the Vaydralen in his grasp slashed the Rattolijan's wrist with his hidden blade, falling to the ground as Crald grasped at his wrist. Around them, the Vaydralen and Akehnaton continued to grow more and more hostile with every passing second. One of their own was wounded behind the Akhenaton.

He felt a sickness in his stomach, sadness. They had fought together at Sev Tok, as brothers. All across the remnant sectors inside their own space, now they were posed against each other. He saw their own warriors, slaughtered by their own hand. A shameful display in the heat of battle. Quoron had nothing to offer the words of the Akhenaton. Perhaps they did hate each other, for no good reason at all either.

"That may be so Crald. But should we truly adhere to hate? What point is there in senseless killing of kin? It only makes us weak. And none of us will survive our own weakness if we succumb to it!"

Quoron put himself between his own warriors and the Akehnaton, a hand extended to his own kin. They didn't need to fight, it was a microcosm of a greater conflict at large but even solving this had to mean something.

"I've helped your kind, let us help our own. Don't do this. Crald, tell them to stand aside!" Quoron lingered on those words.

He was almost timid in his demand, but the Vandal stood tall nonetheless. He wouldn't let this happen, every second wasted was another more of his warriors were bleeding out.

"Or I'll have to make you." There was no pride or enthusiasm in those words.

 

[Kiara Ayres]

Nearby allies: @Pointed Ear Gang Sakadi Marathi Sinvala Jacen Nimdok Jairdain Mig Gred Yula Perl Dagon Kaze Kranak Vizsla Ki'an Vizsla Bright4 Bernard of Arca Ishida Ashina Ripley Kühn
Anti-allies: Tathra Khaeus
Equipment: Lightsaber, rebreather, armour

They continued to accumulate allies, Jedi from the New Jedi Order, to help infiltrate the Hivemind but there was no time for introductions. There needn't be any. The next battle ought to bond them for life if all emerged unscathed. The violent ripples in the Force provided all the warning they needed.

This was it.

In the moments before they came face-to-face with the zealous conqueror of worlds, Kiara gave her Padawan a telepathic word of caution. "Kadan. Be careful." She warned him.

It was the first time he had faced the horrors of the Bryn'adul and she didn't want it to be his last. She was careful not to baby him. He was an accomplished Padawan in his own right but achievements meant nothing here. They were still learning how to effectively fight these adversaries.

When faced with the Titan, Tathra Khaeus , the Jedi felt no fear, no hate, only disdain for the beast who had ripped planets from their grasp along with the lives of those who lived there and those who sought to protect them.

The galaxy had suffered because of his actions but the Concord wouldn't remember, wouldn't recognise his name. Only the names of those they lost. Tathra would leave a mark on history but his name would die with those he had taken from the galaxy.

The Sephi's voice rang in her head, calling for the final rally. Aided by her allies who provided distraction and protection, the Jedi could afford to focus on the task at hand, at least for now.

The sounds of blades, blasters and the ongoing skirmish faded into the background as the Jedi Master sat down beside her fellow Master, closed her eyes and reached out through the fluctuations in the Force to establish a link with the Hivemind. She frowned. The creature was not so easily invaded. It showed some resistance.

Still, with her fellow Jedi to assist her, they would pierce the membrane of its mind and disrupt its communication one way or another, so long as they were protected by their team with whom they entrusted their lives.

 

[Varn Barakis]

Location: Eastern SCC
Tags: Andromeda Malvern Mathieu Brion Cadere Osam and friend Sylok'Vanari
Gear: Lightsaber, Silver Jedi Knight Plate, Ye olde Rebreather

The red-scaled draelvasier roared as he charged. Loud, enraged, the keening sound reminded Varn of the berserkers of yore charging into battle half-naked. Not the prettiest thing to picture, but considering what he was facing, it would do. Dancing past his opponent, the knight met the berserker-creature's kukri with his own blade. Light shimmered and bounced off his opponent's armor; one of the strangest armors the Zabrak had ever seen, it resembled more a living thing than anything you might actually wear.

Just another mystery courtesy of the Bryn. It didn't change anything.

Tapping into the Force, Varn let the battle-calm overcome him. The rhythm of his heartbeats, the controlled breaths as he ducked and dodged out of the way of the oncoming blade, the satisfying burn of muscles put to their purpose. This was what he was made for. The battle, the bloodshed. The need to think, to fear for the safety of others, faded. Instinct took over. Years of training and experience kicked in, told him what to do, and when to do it. His blade flickered out to touch the draelvasier's chest, the kukri knocking it askew as soon the lightsaber brushed carapace.

The parry that followed was like stopping a herd of bantha singlehandedly. Stupid, impractical. Yet, it was made possible by the Force, by the ebb and flow, the push and pull of unseen powers way beyond his understanding.

Feeding on that power came naturally. Twisting aside, Varn narrowly avoided a vertical cut. He ducked beneath the follow-up, replied with an upwards strike of his own, missing by a hair's breadth. The draelvasier was quicker than Varn expected. The realization brought with it a sudden... eagerness. There was no better feeling than to face a foe who knew their business, and knew it well. Apart from besting them. That definitely topped it.

Planting his feet, Varn took a breath. Two. Somewhere nearby Cas and Mathieu were fighting their own battles. Andromeda was there, too. The Jedi knight could feel her presence more strongly than the others, the connection they shared capable of spanning more than just a couple dozen meters of red-hued stone. Squaring his shoulders, Varn fell into a neutral stance. When the draelvasier moved, he moved, coming round to close instead of maintaining distance. Though he disguised it well, Varn knew that his actions betrayed a certain... protectiveness of the padawan stood not too far away.

He hoped his opponent's attention was on him. If it wasn't, he would make the big creature pay the price.

And it was dear.

Pushing off with his right leg -the uninjured one- Varn made a diagonal cut at the draelvasier's leading leg, his blade a shimmer of green light nearly too fast to follow. A feint, the real target was his opponent's kukri-wielding arm. The main threat, if not the biggest one. Varn was pretty sure the Bryn' could just as easily kill him with his bare hands if it came to it. He was big enough for it, strong enough for it, and he had the reach advantage, too. So, not much to worry about, all things considered.

 

[Mathieu Brion]

Allegiance​

Location: Dropship en route to the construct's eastern SCC
Equipment: Ashlas wristguard | Espresso Revolver | 6 0 L'Escargots with Cryoban charges and 6 with incendiary charges | Stun baton | Two Lightsabres | Brion Substance Regulator | Electromagnetic pulse emitter | Covert Jedi Robes on top of Gundark II-class Power Armor | 5 LPD-39 Coldblast Cryoban Grenade | LPD-40 Icejet Miniaturized Cryoban Projector | Commlink | Rebreather
Enemy Tag: Osam Sylok'Vanari
Allied Tag: Cadere Varn Barakis Andromeda Malvern

Mathieu was still trying to make contact with the fleet, repeating his message to call off the attack as the battle intensified around him. His friend rushed off to attack the closer one whilst also helping to alleviate the pressure on the dropship. After the brutal assault the one whom he presumed to be Osam from Sarka, it seemed miraculous that anyone in the dropship had survived - but there he stood. It was good to see that Varn was up and seemingly still quite capable. What truly caused the large Padawan to look up from the comms device, however, was when his one slug was seemingly eaten by Osam's armour, only to be spit out moments later. The L'Escargots had caused the monstrosity tremendous pain last time, but now, they appeared to be more of a distraction than anything. It was worrisome to say the least. It had been a hard and gruesome fight last time, and now, he seemed so much more powerful.

But his gaze wouldn't be allowed to linger on the foe of the past for all too long as the slugs and his friend were about to hit Sylok. Mathieu's eyes followed as the one projectile impacted around the same time as Cassie launched his acrobatic assault. Mounting his comms unit to his shoulder, the young Morellian started rushing on towards their foe, knowing that he couldn't stay idle for all too long. He could only hope that his message to the fleet got through now.

Raising his one arm as he ran, Mathieu took aim at Sylok. It was concerning how the cryoban did not seem to have an effect on him but the impact of the slug and the drill certainly still seemed effective. And so, he squeezed the trigger. But before the bullet had left the barrel, the Bryn erected a barrier between them, causing the slug to crash against the new obstacle. Before Mathieu had even realised it, he had fired another slug which met the same fate. With his cryoban-carrying L'Escargots all used, Mathieu loaded his revolver with the six remaining L'Escargot slugs carrying incendiary charges instead. The time it took to do so roughly matched the time it took to reach the barrier but once there, the Padawan was at a loss at how to get past the obstacle which had blocked his slugs.

On the other side, he could see how his best friend was faced with the large creature that had erected the barrier. It had armed itself with a warblade which sent a chill through Mathieu's spine - Cassie was in danger and he was stuck behind some barrier, unable to help but fully able to see what was happening. The young Morellian's anxiety levels were through the roofs. More often than not, he remained calm and collected in the face of a battle. He had seen many in the past, both before and after joining the Silver Jedi Order. But this was different - it was his best friend who was isolated with that beast. The Padawan tried to calm himself, to find peace and harmony - to find guidance in the Jedi code. But at this moment, there was none to be found. "I'm coming" he whispered whilst igniting his blade and drenching his immediate vicinity in its blue colour. Perhaps it was a subpar solution, but desperation and a lack of better ideas accumulated into a powerful thrust as Mathieu stabbed the barrier, hoping that it would bring it down.

 

[Osam]

Objective: Platitudes and Decisive Action
Location: Eastern Covenant Section - Surface Command Center

Spoiler: Personal Equipment

Kraemonen Flesh Vessel
Pulverizer
Zealot's Barad Kukri
Sun Quaker Toxin Grenade x2

Friends: Sylok'Vanari
Foes: Varn Barakis | Andromeda Malvern

---

Even as the Warlord maneuvered to close the distance between his Jedi prey, he was subjected to the continued onslaught of its peers. The blind Padawan had begun to amass a rather impressive collection of debris, and when this hurtled through the air toward the hybrid, he was forced to react defensively, side-stepping out of his charge in anticipation of the launch. Perhaps it was his readiness to fend for himself that made the sudden stasis imposed upon the items most surprising to the Draelvasier. There floated all of the instruments of devastation, the concrete of the structure, the steel, and the Verikast, the shards from the shuttle - each one trapped in an invisible war of concentration between the Ashaka and the Jedi.

Osam offered a nod of appreciation to his Ashaka comrade before launching himself back into the fray, clashing in vicious combat with the Jedi Knight before him. Where the Force guided his opponent, instinct both real and impressed and a collective experience of war carried the Warlord through his end of the conflict. Here a parry of the lightsaber, and there an opening to exploit - always closed just moments before he could eviscerate the Knight. Blow after blow fell from the arms of the Risen-Sraelvun, each one carried the implicit promise of death, and each one was caught just short of its target.

Twin hearts beating in rapid succession, and lungs filling with the wretched air of Draemidus Prime still roiling throughout the atmosphere, the Warlord fought on, feeling the pulse travel through his chest, feeling the thrum of combat as it pushed him forward. The gentlest sting of an injector somewhere along his right thigh alerted him to the presence of additional adrenaline mere moments before it surged into his bloodstream, the Flesh's Hivemind taking a moment to supplement the talents of its master, the tiredness evaporating in instants as a surge of vitality struck him.

The Warlord was hyper-fixated now upon the actions of the Jedi Knight in front of him, and the accursed weapon he lofted about within his grasp. The hiss and hum that came from the plasmatic blade was to him a taunt and a challenge, a threatening sound uttered by a beast mere moments before it lashed out and bit. The Kukri in his hand moved swiftly to intercept it at every opportunity, to keep it away from him, to keep it from inflicting that same terrible pain that it had in the past. He didn't notice any protectiveness from the Knight... he couldn't notice anything other than his own safety.

It was fear that motivated him to react when the Jedi went on the offensive. When the blade of light swiveled in its diagonal toward his leg, when it tempted him to react or else to lose his ability to stand. He swung down hard to defend his leg, reflexive and swift, he hadn't recognized the feint for what it was until it was already soaring up through the air, aiming to catch him just above the wrist, to sever the hand which held the Kukri, the one that had been lured into a trap.

The hiss, Khaeus help him, the hiss, it would happen again.

The Draelvasier did not pray, and no deity would deign to listen to Osam even if they did. The swathe of bloodshed, the cruel extermination of system after system, of billions had seen to that unfortunate reality. That did not prevent the wretched and pathetic squeal from ripping through the hybrids in the very millisecond that he saw his limb's oblivion coming toward him. It did not prevent him from letting loose a cry so helpless and utterly fragmented that he might turn the hearts of the most stalwart beggars, that he might offer his own personal rendition of martyrdom. It was a sorrow and fear so strong that it put the cries of the tortured to shame.

That animal terror that ripped through him caused his fingers to relinquish their hold of the kukri, to let it travel its full distance to the ground, caused him to recoil as hard as he possibly could, to curl inward on himself like a child seeking relief from the depredations of bogeymen.

HISSSSSS

The plasmatic blade touched him again, the weight of it apparent against the hide, the sensation, the heat. It was all too familiar now - soon would come the agony, the pain beyond all other pains as the very blood within his limb was boiled up and blew out the veins and arteries which had held it captive, and then he would have to watch in appalled horror as the boney protrusion of his limb lay before him, hauntingly intact if not for the severance.

But - though the hiss carried through the air, the suffering did not come, nor the pain, and gradually without these provocative elements, even fear itself began to abide. The hybrid uncurled from the pathetic form he had taken and observed as the lightsaber blade still glared menacingly before him... but there too was his hand - attached still to his body. Not just attached by threads of skin or meat or bone, but encased within the covering of Ravager Hide, of a vessel whose flesh itself was sturdy enough to withstand the assault without difficulty.

Transfixed as he was at his own remarkable durability, Osam did not fight the compulsion of the Kraemonen Hivemind as it reacted to the assault of the Jedi with its own. Hands freed from the burden of the Zealot's Kukri, and far more aware of the limitations and abilities of the Flesh, it swung the Warlord's arms forward, fingers splayed out in an attempt at grappling at the Knight's wrist and his throat, prepared to haul him into the air and thrash him against metal or stone or concrete until he had burst like an overflowing wineskin or else until preventative measures stopped the onslaught.

---

Osam let the Hivemind work - his own mind racing, his control of the situation deteriorating swiftly as he reconciled what had just happened.

He might've retaken control were it not for the worm's own message:
"Amok-Tu is listening. He has answered."

The Warlord composed himself, steadying his breathing as the Hivemind took full control of the combat, performing that active task while the Draelvasier within focused entirely on the conversation.
"Amok-Tu. I have been trying to reach you all battle. Why have you avoided me?" He began, chiding his fellow Warlord in the first opening salvo of conversation.

"I was pre-occupied with defense, Risen. Besides, it is just about the Akhenaton and the Vaydralen, isn't it?"
"Warlord. And it is. Why are they fighting?"

"They're disunified. They have no regard for our creeds. We should never have brought them into the fold." Amok-Tu spat, the telepathic message carrying with it his disdain.

"Is that why you've been causing them to fight?" Osam accused once more, his own distaste for the Draelvasier kindred rising with every transmitted statement.

Laughter. Short and brief - a chuckle of shock. "Make them fight? I don't need to do anything to make them fight. They do it themselves."
"Perhaps, but sending them to each other to degrade the most important parts of their civilizations didn't hurt, did it?"

"I am the Warlord of Nar Kreeta. Who I send to deliver my messages is my own choice." Amok-Tu bit back.

"It was until you decided to go against the Titan's wishes and to incite a civil war just before we were assaulted by the Concord." Osam spoke. A pause followed, contemplation... even telepathically, it took a moment sometimes for persons to think of a response.

"I didn't know the attack would come. It should have just been the Akhenaton and the Vaydralen fighting. They're weak... they're not like us."

"So you admit it. You incited them to violence because... they weren't to your liking? You disobeyed the Chieftain and the Ish'makra by doing this... by forgetting the nature of our tenants."

"Enough. We're done speaking. I have a battle to run, or have you forgotten, Risen. Perhaps we should not have elevated you so highly either."

Anger flooded through Osam at the slight, his teeth clenching together, the hate transmitting alongside his message.
"You're right. What happens next won't require any words with you."

He concentrated on the portions of the message he had received from Amok-Tu, the revelation that he had been responsible for driving apart the Akhenaton and the Vaydralen, and with the assistance of the Mindstone he began the tedious work of transmitting the message outward - to the Deacon of the Akhenaton Thur'Zak and to the Centurion Generals, and outward to even to Ostak Cl'mana who had doubtless helped cause the link to occur, either directly or indirectly, and whatever others could be reached.

"Warlord Amok-Tu is responsible for the fighting between the Akhenaton and the Vaydralen. He drives our new brethren apart with accusations and lies. He points out your strengths and makes them seem like weaknesses. He accuses you of being imperfect with one another to drag you into war with one another.

He does not speak for the Draelvasier. He does not speak for the Ish'makra. He does not speak for the Titan.

It is true. You are not perfect. But you were not chosen because we thought you were perfect. There is no Tenant that states you must never err, that you must never make a mistake, that you must never struggle - we brought you into this Covenant not because of what you were, but because of what you could become.

Strength is not the absence of weakness. It is pushing beyond weakness. It is overcoming it. Do not let a misled Warlord convince you that you are defiled. We have adopted you as brothers and sisters - but if you struggle only with one another, you will prove Amok-Tu right. Stand together... stand with us as you did on Sev Tok - stand with us now and forever. If you do not wish to be accused, then leave no room for accusation. Leave no question in the minds of anyone that you deserve your place with us in the stars. Don't focus on the errors of your kindred, but focus on your own - and realize that it is through the vanquishing of these mistakes that all of us embody strength."

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

​

Objective: Structural Defence​

Location: Grounds beyond the Super-Construct, directly ahead of the War-Beast Chambers
Allies: Galak | Gordrak |
Enemies: Thurion Heavenshield | Beltran Rarr | Caltin Vanagor | Westenra Mina
Stave | Cuirass
Forces: Al-Hadad | Shamans | Servitor Excavators | Siege Towers |

Al-Hadad continued to attack the Castle, rending it apart piece by piece as its thick exterior fangs tore into its vulnerable exterior, shifting from left to right as its lower-length pulled the castle down deeper into the hollow underground beneath. The great serpent would not be defeated nor upstaged by a mechanical puppet. It was comparable to a thrill, the sheer power on display writhing through his veins - at the expense of his thought and under the instruction of his fingertips. The power of the force was unmatched this day, the power of the beast - unmatched this day.

A disturbance rose in the cosmic force, a ripple in the current of events as the Chieftain himself moved to defend the Command Centre. Saboteurs intended to use the pathway through the Hivemind's chamber to the centre, the intent to throw them into disarray was clear. But this chaos would not be allowed to be sown, the future of the Bryn'adûl's new adopted species was at stake as they fought among themselves. Inadvertently crippling the defence of the surface as the Concord attacked. But al lthe same, the Draelvasier met them with equal might and tenacity as the advance of the Silver Jedi and their allies were all but stymied when they made landfall. No inch was given, the warriors of the Bryn held.

Prowess is with you, Chieftain.

With strain, he extended a hand; eyes closed as his focus shifted from the preoccupied serpent to his Excavators, encircling the tunnels within which both Warlord Galak and Gordrak of the Ultra's now resided. Even outnumbered they fought with ferocity unknown to man, but they would not be alone for long. The order of the Warlock was clear, Drek'ma was to bury them if he could.

I will aid you, Warlord.

Encircling above the formations of the Jedi, chunks of debris would begin to crack and shift in the ceiling above them as the Excavators swiftly crumbled the rock above their heads into man sized slabs of rock and metal to crush their mid-lanes and furthest forces. They would have them trapped, and killed.

 

[Yula Perl]

Team Mauve Brick | Dagon Kaze – Bernard of Arca - Ishida Ashina - Mig Gred - Jairdain - Kiara Ayres - Sakadi Marathi Sinvala - Jacen Nimdok - Bright4 - Kranak Vizsla - Ki'an Vizsla

Bad Bois | Tathra Khaeus - Ostak Cl'mana - Primarch Drek'ma - Galak

Precarious. That was the word that would have come to mind, if words could come to Yula’s mind.

There was no room for words right now. Only sensations, instinct, and the connection between the two.

The behemoth himself, Tathra Khaeus stood ready for the Jedi; a sentinel guarding the Hive. Unflinching, unperturbed. The Bryn’adul shamans, the Ashaka that communed with the Hive, were guarded by a cadre of elite warriors, their forces nearly as imposing as the Drael warlord himself. Behind the mountain of a monster, another warrior knelt in silence, shielded by a thin transparency of indigo. All of this took place on a curved platform overlooking a drop into the abyss.

Precarious indeed.

Yula processed all of this in under a few seconds, her mind feeding off of the adrenaline and neural integration with her droid. A chill hastened along her spine and seeped into the marrow of her bones. A moment of dread, coupled with ragged breathing as her mechanical appendage ripped the arm from an Ultra, coiled in her stomach.

<We should blow something up.>

<Working on it,>

The exchange, benign as it was, brought her back. They were here to assail the Hive, to wrestle control away from the Bryn, and damage the most cerebral part of their compound. Nimdok, Jairdain, and Kaira took point on that, lapsing into meditative silence while waging war on the Bryn’adul construct through the Force. They were leaving themselves physically vulnerable, depending on the Jedi, on her to protect them.

I can't protect them.

Nida and Kyra had slipped through her fingers, by the hand and sword of the Sith and Bryn’adul. They’d taken the limbs, organs, and spirits of her sisters, and Yula had not been there to shield them. She hadn’t even tried—could she have helped then? Behind the visor, kohl-lined eyes caught the form of Dagon as he landed behind Tathra. Despite their catty banter, she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if something happened to him, to the mentalists, to the Jedi and Mandalorians and assorted friends here, and she hadn’t tried.

Resolve burned through her like a fever, and her eyes drew upward as the grenades burst, covering the inner edge of the platform in thick rolls of smog. Dipping low, hanging above the abyss was the metallic exterior of the Hive. The mechanical legs of her arachnid skeleton brought her to the outer edge of the platform, and the HUD fed her live data concerning the distance to her target as she moved. Two of the upper appendages launched a pair of heat grenades at the underbelly of the Hive, aiming to weaken the integrity of the structure by superheating a few small spots on the walls, and hopefully allow the mentalists to penetrate deeper.

Sorry in advance about the heart attack, Dag.

“Gred! Or one of you white-haired kids, someone, cover me!”

Three of the four legs dug into forward into the ground, cracks scoring in the earth beneath her as she directed all of her and Emily’s strength into building pressure. The fourth leg shot a grappling hook towards the Hive, and if it latched onto its target, would launch the arachnoid Zeltron towards the outer surface of the Hive’s underbelly.

The underbelly that hung precariously above the abyss.

Spoiler: TL;DR

-Had some emotions
-Ripped off an Ultra's arm
-Had some more, worse emotions
-Stabbed an Ultra in the chest
-Threw some heat grenades at the underbelly of the hive
-Asked my friends for help ( Bernard of Arca , Ishida Ashina , Mig Gred )
-Launched my stupid ass towards the hive with a grappling hook, provided it hits its mark

 

[Cadere]

Location: Eastern SCC
Equipment: Lightsaber | Personal Light Armor | Mantellian Vambraces | FF-CAR1 | 6x LPD-39 Coldblast Cryoban Grenade | Commlink | Rebreather
Allies: Mathieu Brion | Varn Barakis | Andromeda Malvern
Opposition: Osam | Sylok'Vanari
Engaging: Sylok'Vanari

Cas wasn't able to look for long, but the brief images he saw was of... the Bryn warlord's armor absorbed Mat's slug? No, that couldn't be right. Regardless, he wasn't able to think about it for too long as his attention needed to return to his current conflict. The Jedi Knight could feel the Dark side of the Force pulsating from Sylok'Vanari like a contracting blood vessel. What followed was the erection of a barrier which seemed to halt any attempt by Mathieu to engage, or, maybe to just keep himself trapped with the Force using Bryn.

Taking note from earlier, he realised that his opponent didn't suffer from cold-based attacks or projectiles like other members of his species did. It was times like this that the Kiffar wished he'd done his research and paid more attention during the briefs on the Draelvasier species and all its variants. Because, apparently, this one was immune or at least resistent to what he'd prepared to use against the Bryn'adul forces.

Whatever he thought to himself, he was still a Jedi, Cas had a lightsaber and the Force as his ally. Watching closely as the Aeravalin's left hand emerged from behind himself, his brows furrowed and forehead crinkled into a frown at the sight of the blade being brandished. The Kiffar's gloved fingers curled around the warm hilt of his lightsaber as his knees bent, entering into a Form IV stance. At that moment he could feel Mathieu's anxiety through the static of the Force, it was... directed at him? Due to the unique bond the two shared as best friends, Mathieu's anxieties, for a brief moment, passed onto Cas as he felt an uncomfortable void fill his stomach.

The Jedi Knight experienced worry, realising that this could very well be his last day. He may never see the people he loves and cares for ever again following today's events. It only lasted briefly however, steeling himself he reminded himself that he was a fighter with a will to live, and a will to keep those he cared about protected. Couldn't do that if he was dead. Reinforcing himself with his trademark determination, the corner of Cas' lip twisted into a smirk as his eyes took in the features of the Aeravalin standing before him.

"Boy,..." he started, kicking his feet off of the ground and breaking into a sprint "... That's a face only a mother could love!" mocked the Jedi, channelling the Force within him like a lightning rod. Cas' right arm hung low before channelling the Force around his hand and forearm, expelling a light telekinetic push as he threw his arm in the direction of the Bryn "If your blade doesn't off me, prolongued exposure to your face will." he quipped. Following up his prior telekinetic attack, when close enough to Sylok'Vanari , the Jedi Knight feigned a forward kick with his back leg, he then quickly snapped his leg back simultenously hopping into the air and thrusting the blade of his lightsaber upward, aiming for the open-faced design of the Aeravalin's open-faced helmet.

 

[Sethrak]

Main Objective: For Soot and Soil
Side Objective: Find The Lothal Guard
Location: The Central Section
Post: 7
​

"...But first I will have a word with you." Sethrak skipped any pleasantries, he was the warlord's superior, and he was going to solve the issue at hand.

"And what would that be, my fellow warlord?" Amok-to growled in response. There was no flattery in his voice. No respect. If anything there was annoyance, irritation, and anger. He had guts to use such a tone to communicate with The First Warlock. Sethrak looked him right in the eyes and replied, "There are rumors that you, a warlord, have been using your command to turn our allies against each other. Are these rumors true?"

"Of course not. I am surprised that you, The First Warlock, would believe a rumor spread by the common soldiers." Amok-to spat, mocking the warlock.

It was at this moment that Warlord Osam's message reached Sethrak over the communication stone. The rumors, which Amok-to had just dismissed, were absolutely true. The warlord had lied to Sethrak's face. The Warlord had caused dissent among the allies of The Bryn. The Warlord had disrupted the defense effort. The Warlord had flat out committed treason and lied without a second thought.

Sethrak made a fist, his arm shaking as he squeezed as hard as he could. He was going to kill the Warlord, but first he would have some fun.

"Kneel when you are speaking to me, Warlord."

"What?" Amok-to spewed, adding a laugh at the end for good measure. Every act of disobedience would be another humiliation for the Aerevalin. Sethrak was keeping count already.

Refusing to obey the order, that's a strike.

Laughing at a superior's order. Strike.

Causing dissent. Strike. ​

Sethrak stepped toward the warlord, now only a few feet stood between the two. The commander stood his ground, hiding the fear that he felt from showing on his face. But it still showed. The Warlord wouldn't lock eyes for more than a second. He looked around Sethrak, or at the floor. When he spoke his face was stiff, unmoving apart from the mouth.

"You heard me, Warlord. You wouldn't want to commit treason, would you?"

"You...we are equals, why should I bow before you? This is MY planet!"

Strike
​

Amok-to, I will ask you one final time. Kneel." Sethrak kept his voice calm. He had a plan, and he was enjoying this.

"I don't take orders from heretics, Warlock."

Strike
​

Sethrak was done playing the game. Now it was time for the warlord's punishment. He could not kill the man, it would be heresey. However The Draelvaiser had a way of life that Sethrak knew well. Any Draelvaiser could initiate Morad'kai, a challenge, a fight to the death. Given the many transgressions of the warlord, Sethrak believed he was could issue the challenge without fear of the Ish'makra's disapproval.

This time Sethrak shouted for all to hear, "Amok-to, Warlord of Nar-Kreeta, I, First Warlock Sethrak, Warlord of Lothal and commander of The Lothal Guard, challenge you to Morad'kai!"

There was no chance of Amok-tu refusing the challenge. If he backed down, it would dishonor him, he would never be respected by The Bryn'adul again, and he could even lose his title as Warlord for his cowardice, dishonor, and weakness. Sethrak had no fear, there was no question that he would beat the warlord, this was simply a game for him. Amok-to on the other hand could no longer hide his fear. His eyes were wide, his legs shook slightly, his chest lifted and collapsed quicker as his breathing sped up, and his voice was not as confident as before.

He stood up straight and replied with a single word, "Accepted."

By now there was a crowd, everyone in the command center was watching. The Drael knew what was about to happen, the allied races, unfamiliar with Drael culture, didn't, but instead watched out of curiosity. Sethrak made ready, he had no weapon and he was several feet shorter than Amok-tu, but that never stopped Hrajlmak from winning a fight and so it wouldn't stop him.

Furthermore Sethrak would handicap himself. He would not use The Force in this battle. Amok-to couldn't, and Sethrak wanted to beat the aerevalin warlord fairly.

Amok-tu seemingly didn't have that concern as he rushed forward with a Val-shae spear, slashing at Sethrak's face. The First Warlock dodged with ease, delivering a kick to his opponent's gut. Amok-tu didn't flinch, instead trying to backhand Sethrak with his offhand. Sethrak caught the blow with his right hand, making a fist with his left he struck the warlord directly in the face.

This time Amok-tu backed up a few short steps, dazed by the strike. Sethrak took the opportunity to disarm the warlord by moving into grapple range and taking the spear by the handle. He was literally face to face with Amok-tu, allowing no room for any strikes. He pulled as hard as he could, finally forcing the taller Drael to drop the spear.

Angered, Amok-tu shoved Sethrak. However Sethrak anticipated this move, and embraced the shove, letting his feet raise off the ground as he flew back several feet, landing with ease.

With the warlord disarmed, Sethrak could have his fun now. Predictably, Amok-tu charged at Sethrak, allowing the shorter warlord to sidestep and use Amok's momentum against himself, throwing him to the ground. He landed hard against the metal ground, grunting. Sethrak allowed him to get up, only to be kicked to the ground again.

Sethrak took the time to mock the warlord in front of his men.

"Look at this slime. This heretic scum, who causes dissent in our ranks and refuses to obey his orders, can't even land a strike."

Amok-to tried to get up again. Sethrak allowed him to, and didn't knock him down again. Instead he rushed forward and grabbed the warlord's head, bringing it down on his knee and thus knocking some teeth out, and breaking his nose. With his head still in Sethrak's hands, Sethrak once again threw him to the ground.

Sethrak activated his communication stone for all Bryn to hear, and spoke,

"Let it be known from this day forth that The Ahkenaton, The Vaydralen, The Kraemonin, and The Ungoli are under my protection. They are to be treated as any Drael would be. To treat them otherwise, is treason. The price of treason..."

Sethrak picked up the beast report, then without hesitation he shoved the light metal tablet into Warlord Amok-To's throat. The warlord gasped, blood pouring out of his throat. Sethrak had won, he was the commander now.

"....Is death."

Spoiler

The Morad'kai Ceremony: https://www.starwarsrp.net/threads/draelvasier-social-culture-notes.151062/

 

[Gordrak]

Post Three

Objective: For Soot and Soil

Location: Reinforcing Galak

Allies: Bryn'adul / Galak

Enemies: Everyone ( Open to interaction )

Equipment:

Spoiler

Armor / Axe / Shielding / Ravager / Lancer / Mangler / Crippler / Shredder / Burner / Beam Rifle / Fort. Mutagen

Gordrak slammed a fist onto his chest as the Chieftain gave his command and left. Despite the abrupt departure and potential severity of it all, Gordrak made no attempt to stop or follow. He had been ordered to reinforce the Warlord and he intended to follow through. Still, in the back of his mind, Gordrak felt uneasy about it all. Surely the Chieftain could have taken more than he did? The Chieftain could certainly butcher whatever or whoever they sent against him but could the rest of it hold out? Gordrak banished such thoughts from his mind before looking over the Ultras. He may "command" them but they were clearly more experienced than him. They bore trophies and markings as proof of their prowess and success in multiple campaigns. He was proud to be counted among them but he knew he didn't quite measure up yet. Despite the doubt afflicting him, he knew he was a competent warrior. He couldn't have risen to such a station without being worthy of it. Not in a society as pure and brutal as his own.


Gordrak lurched slightly as his railcar rattled. The fighting was getting bad not to mention the impact from earlier. Whatever the enemy had done, his fellow Bryn'adul were responding in kind. The thoughts of his ride derailing or suffering from any number of unsightly accidents made him eager to be free of his transportation. Getting buried alive or trapped didn't vex Gordrak as much as he thought it might have. Honestly, what made him eager to get out of the railcar and into the fight was the thought of simply dying before getting there. To never even reach the fight and utterly fail to avenge his brothers was something beyond worrying. Before Gordrak could continue that line of thinking, the first of the cars reached its destination. He grabbed his lancer and readied it promptly. His car should be next and when it opened, he would have to quickly find Galak. The railcar finally began to slow and soon enough it ground to a halt. Gordrak shouldered his way to the entrance and looked to the Ultras surrounding him. Their eyes were all on him as a silence took hold of the occupants.


" On me, warriors of the Chieftain. Let us find the Warlord and assist him in the butchering of these rats. Let them see the price of their arrogance. "


Gordrak slammed a hand against the door twice, the assembled Ultras following suit. Soon after, the doors opened and Gordrak was the first out. The Ultras from the first car had gone ahead, their orders already known to them. As the Ultras surged forth from the rail station, Gordrak could hear the fighting clearly now. "Do you hear that? Our brethren have started without us. " Gordrak shouted as he ordered the Ultras into an ordered run. As they broke into the tunnel that contained the battle between Galak , Thurion Heavenshield , and several others; Gordrak watched as debris rained from the sections of ceiling above the enemy. The bulk of the Ultras, having now joined the battle, surged to the sides of their kin. Gordrak shouldered a juggernaut aside as he approached Warlord Galak from behind. Gordrak launched an ore grenade from his lancer at a knot of enemy infantry ahead of him. Turning his head, Gordrak spoke to the Warlord.


"The Ultras are yours to command, Warlord Galak. Direct us as you see fit. "


The burden of command had finally been lifted. Gordrak was honestly somewhat relieved. He wanted to fight and now he could do that without worry. Oddly enough, Gordrak found himself remembering the last time he was here. He and Galak had fought together then after the market had fallen. Honestly, the Warlord was one of the few Gordrak knew had suffered as he had. Gordrak wondered if the nature of that suffering and loss fueled the Warlord as it did himself. Turning his mind back to the task at hand, Gordrak quickly acquired and shot down an enemy trooper.


Perhaps, if the fighting got brutal enough, he could find out the answer to his question.

 

[Sethrak]

Main Objective: For Soot and Soil
Side Objective: Find The Lothal Guard
Location: The Central Command
Post: 8
​

Sethrak looked around the room, observing as everyone got back to work. He had killed the commander and now he needed to take charge.

"You, Baedurin, update me."

The large Drael saluted, then began to speak, "Fighting has begun throughout the super construct. We have used several of our defenses, but the Draeyde Swarm and the Voul’dakesh Pumps remain unused. Fighting is heaviest in The Eastern Section, we believe."

"Thank you." If the defenses were still usable, they needed to be used. The Draeyde swarm was lethal, overwhelming foes and attacking from all angles. Paired with the Voul'dakesh pumps which released the same ink used in Sun Quaker Grenades, capable of bypassing helmets and masks to incapacitate foes from the inside as it disabled organs, especially the lungs, within seconds.

"Deploy the Draeyde Swarm to The Eastern Section immediately. Deploy the Sun Quaker Ink there as well...the creatures hate the Sun."

Sethrak then raised his communication stone to warn everyone in The Eastern Section of what was to come. "All Bryn forces in the Eastern Section, this is Warlord Sethrak. I have deployed Sun Quaker Ink. Prepare yourselves."

Sethrak didn't know who was there and who wasn't, but the warning was necessary as the ink killed indiscriminately. The swarm was immune, however, and could thus pick off the weakened foes as they stumbled in the deadly darkness.

With his orders dispatched and the warning sent, Sethrak had one final objective: Find The Lothal Guard. It was possible that they were dead already, given the intense fighting and the earlier bombardment. But if they were alive, Sethrak would find them and lead them to safety. Or he would, if he wasn't stuck in this command center, leading the entire force momentarily.

Worried about his forces, Sethrak sat down with a long sigh. He didn't know if he would become the permanant warlord of Nar Kreeta, but even if he did, Lothal and The Lothal Guard would always be His people. There would be no replacing them if they were to fall, just like there would be no replacing Keldotherra, Hrajlmak, or the many other great warriors that had died honorably. Sethrak only hoped that he was doing well so far...

 

[Brooke Waters]

It was going to be rough here. Brooke wasn’t a warrior, but she wanted to support those that were. Her abilities as a healer were going to be used to their fullest. Keeping an eye on the foes, she was using the Force and her magick to pick up smaller foes and slam them into the larger. The Jedi warriors, the Masters and Knights would be able to fight them off. She was surrounded by two of the toughest warriors the Jedi had to offer.

The fight of the Valkyri Shield was inspiring, and Brooke was willing to lend her support to them, with her own spells and Force, but with the unity of the shield, she was not going to interrupt. Instead, she would be casting spells and kinetic blasts of the Force.Her intent was to disarm and worry the Bryn, break their ranks to give the Valkyri some level of reprieve. But as more broke the lines, she could feel the Lion fall.

Turning, she was already grabbing for her lightsaber as Caltin Vanagor moved to defend the Heavenshield Patriarch. Turning, she saw the other Bryn moving, lead by one of the larger ones Krarolk T'manu. She tightened the grip of her saber, and her resolve in the Force.

“Master Vanagor, watch over Heavenshield. I’ll see what I can do here.” She turned, her aquatic blue lightsaber on, the focus of Force power in her opposite hand glowing a similar blue, vibrating. Healing would come later, first, she had to show that she was, indeed a Jedi Knight, and one who has followed the path of Allya and the Witches.

A sharp whistle towards the Bryn’adul coming towards, she slammed her hand to the ground, pushing a resonating ripple of sound, a quake, through the structure towards her foes.

Thurion Heavenshield Beltran Rarr

 

[Dis]

Dis the Shadow(cat)
Shadowcat, explorer and wanderer; Owner of the Cat’s Paw; Member of the Greystone Mercantile​

Objective IV.: Make friends, BYOO
Location: Nar Kreeta
Equipment: N/A
Writing with: Reidun Amersis

[ Theme ] ​

Healing was not specifically Dis’s strength, they had only less practice in it, but understood and knew better about alchemy or Sith things. These were more interesting from an archaeological point of view. Not to mention that Reidun's body was very foreign to the Shadowcat. Because she was given permission to look at the girl’s memories, they already knew their language and also had a general knowledge of Draelvasier’s physiology.

Unfortunately, it is not comprehensive knowledge, because the girl did not understand such a thing, she typically found only a fight and warfares between her memories, nothing useful. That is, such a usable thing that would have been good at this minute. always just fight and war. They could have been a real great warrior if they had learned all the fighting skills from those whose bodies they used. But never learned such knowledge, didn't want to. It didn't suit Dis.

While they were healing Reidun, talking to the girl, meaning they were trying instead. It soon became clear that Reidun wasn’t really a social being and didn’t like to talk, and they didn’t really have a common theme either. The Shadowcat is a pacifist, life patron, Force User; and the draelvasier saw everything but themselves as weak, from which the galaxy had to be freed.

Dis sighed in thought, it will be a long day…

 

[Ostak Cl'mana]

POST: VIII
OBJECTIVE: Platitudes and Decisive Action Structural Defense
OBJECTIVE (TACHAEL-VEMNAK): Eliminate Warlord Amok-Tu
LOCATION: Nar Kreeta, Super-Construct, Hivemind Chamber
EQUIPMENT: Ceremonial fireproof Shaman robes
ALLIES: BRYN | In proximity of Tathra Khaeus | Open to interaction
HOSTILES: SJC | Anti-Hivebusters | Mentally engaging Jairdain / Kiara Ayres / Jacen Nimdok | Self-defense perimeter engaging Yula Perl | Intent to engage Jedi telepaths (mentally)

At last, the wretched Jedi arrived.
​

While his eyes were closed, Ostak could feel the Jedi in his meditative state, their energy signatures rapidly approaching. Suddenly, the mental assault he had anticipated began. Yet instead of targeting the Chieftain, the Ashaka, or even Ostak, the energies of the Jedi flew towards the Hivemind. It took some degree of restraint not to laugh. The Hivemind's loss would not be critical, hardly even an inconvenience towards operations on Nar Kreeta. However, the Shaman-Overseer saw a benefit in keeping the Jedi misinformed. If they believed that the Hivemind was such a critical priority that Ostak would invest his full mental strength into defending it, then they would not strike the far more valuable target that was the Chieftain, and they would be delayed from traveling upwards to the more valuable Command Center.

-Lock.-

With an order from Ostak's subconscious brain, the Hivemind severed all external connections. The cords that Jacen Nimdok reached for would be pulled taut and then gradually snapped under the pressure placed on it by the competing forces, nullifying the influence of both. With the Hivemind no longer able to be mentally assaulted through its neural relays, Ostak began his counterattack.

As a leading member of the Tachael-Vemnak, the Shaman-Overseer was an accomplished torturer of both body and brain. First, Ostak reached out towards the outstretched power of the Jedi and followed the trace elements to their sources, moving in an attempt to read their bodies. At the same time, an immeasurably bright pink light began to enter the unconscious perception of the connected Jedi, its glow rising to become blinding and disorienting.

While Ostak's thoughts were focused entirely on the unconscious, his perception of his physical surroundings completely abandoned, his automatic Force defensive reflex activated several foreign objects passed closeby. Two bolts of purple-hued electricity would shoot out from Ostak's protective dome towards the grenades thrown by Yula Perl , with a third aiming towards the grappling hook that flew barely a meter above the Shaman-Overseer's head.

Deep in his meditation, Ostak intensified his efforts.

 

[Craldzaer]

Objective: Platitudes and Decisive Action
Location: Eastern Covenant Sector - Vaydralen Barracks
Allies: Osam | Thur'Zak | Quoron Ver'dum | Sylok'Vanari |
Enemies: TBD

Pain surged through Craldzaer, blood leaking from his wrist. Blood leaking from his orifices and within his stomach. He could feel the weakness, the loose feelings in his stomach made everything shift like water beneath a boat. His feet struggled to find purchase, but Crald couldn't help but straighten himself upright. He had to appear strong, he had to ensure that the Vaydralen could not see his weakness. The eyes of the Akehnaton shifted, a collection of debates whirring around its central cortex as hundreds of his kin argued for either side. He felt the hate and fear of hundreds in his mind, hands shaking with intent beyond his own as his entire species cried out for action. The deacon was absent from their swarm, bereft of their matriarch nothing was left but the primal instinct of his kin. Opaque, emotionless eyes sat on Quoron as he spoke.

Senseless killing.

The Akhenaton's were discussing among themselves telepathically. More than anything, they did not wish to be eradicated. They didn't want their matriarch to come under threat from the Chieftain nor their people on other worlds. But the truth was, they didn't know what would secure that future. To fight the Vaydralen or to help them. His eyes shifted to the Vaydralen on the ground beneath him, he saw hate in the Vaydralen's face. Behind them, the other Vaydralen continued to cry out in pain. They were like them, yet not.

At that moment, a communication came through the barrack-wide radios and their own personal mind stones. The voice of Osam, the Warlord who oversaw the collective worlds of the Ungulloi, Vaydralen and Akhenaton. A trusted ally of the matriarch herself, what he had to say made each and every Akhenaton and Vaydralen freeze where they stood. With a raised fist, he called the Akhenaton to lower their weapons. The scouts were eager, though they listened all the same. He nor the others were not blood thirsty, they wished the same as the Vaydralen. To belong. New hate sprung up in the pits of the collective thought of the Akhenaton, not for the Vaydralen but for Amok-Tu, the Warlord who had betrayed them all.

"Amok betray us, all of us and Vaydralen as well!"

Osam was right, they had to prove themselves better than the paranoia forced upon them by the heretical warlord. They had to show strength, now more than ever. This was about the future of the Bryn'adûl and their place in it. The history of the Akhneaton would be decided upon here and now. And that change began, with kindness. Crald pushed his own kin aside, letting the Vaydralen tend to their wounded, the movement put too much pressure on his numb feet. The massive Akhenaton felt to its knees, bloody prints smearing the ground beneath him as blood dripped from the sharp of his chin.

"Quoron... we are done. Lead we, who follow. Defeat enemy... please."