Invasion BLOOD GULCH | Bryn'adûl Invasion of SJC held Chalacta, Alee, Sarka & Roche

[Galak]

BLOOD GULCH
​

Objective: Coagulation
Location: Shield Generator Tower Exterior
Bryn'Bois: Keldothera | Osam | Tathra Khaeus | Hrajlmak'Natok | Sethrak | Ostak Cl'mana | Udomek Seker |
Adversary: Travot Ravenna | Jyoti Nooran |
Equipment: Triad | Armour | Shredder | Bryn Shot |

Galak's shield bounced back as the Jedi erected a barrier, Kal-torn struck by the explosion of his own Kraker as the barrier stopped the movement of the projectiles; blowing up in his face as he fell to the ground, scorched. Galak only momentarily looked to him as the one at the terminal called out. The Warlord did not realise what was happening until he heard the cries of the Debaucher, the red energy suddenly appearing severing multiple of its limbs as it was pushed along by the extending barrier. The large beasts moans of pain filling their ears as the red sheen of light extended out and beyond into the city.

"....No.."

The Warlord felt his exhausting wash over him, realising he had failed yet again. He could not see what damage the Concords play had made, but he could only guess. First, the shield cut him off from his own regiment, unable to save them as they were cut down by orbital fire. Next, Keldothera pulled into the water before he could reach her. Now, so many of his own likely killed by the enemy strike as the orbital strikes continued on the waning Quilxyn shields, some no doubt faltering as the Quilxyn were killed. Flashes of Pavium, the scared Juggernaut; legless and armless lay in a pool of his own blood. The landmine the Silver Jedi had left in Kreeta city had just went off, Galak lay there frozen. He hadn't been hit, no he was just too scared, too weak to rise and comfort his brother. No, he just watched him die. Like he had been forced to watch so many of his kin die today.

Dishonourably, without glory. Robbed of any purpose, they did not die as children of Khaeus. They died alone, in the dark. The pain cut threw him as the Jedi's words came. Almost like a taunt as Galak removed his helm. He looked to the Jedi, his one eye looking down on the man through the barrier. Wrist-bladed fist shaking at his side. Did he have a name? The names that came to mind were only those who he may just have lost.

Keldothera, like a stupid sister.
Osam, an unlikely brother.
Tathra, a honourable father.

The Baedurin's lower jaw jutted out as he leaned forward, venomously sneering and pouting, the Juggernauts around them beating their chests in rage, howling as they readied for what might've been their last fight, disarming themselves of anything but melee weapons.

"Pavium. Keldothera. Osam. Tathra."

Those were the names he would have him know before he died. Those names would weigh on his mind as the Warlord drew his wristblades threw him and took his skull as a trophy.

Galak raised his blades to strike the shield,

 

[Mathieu Brion]

Objective: Two-ish
Location: Remote surface entryway
Equipment: Ashlas wristguard | Espresso Revolver | 10 5 L'Escargots with Cryoban charges | Stun baton | Two Lightsabres | Brion Substance Regulator | Electromagnetic pulse emitter | Covert Jedi Robes on top of Gundark II-class Power Armor | 5 2 LPD-39 Coldblast Cryoban Grenade | LPD-40 Icejet Miniaturized Cryoban Projector | Commlink
Enemy Tag: Osam
Allied Tag: Ki'an Vizsla

Mathieu only had a brief moment to hear the word 'Mercy' and even less time to process it. If he had been able to, he would have prevented himself from pulling the trigger. But it was irrelevant now - it had already been done. But what's more - Osam had also pulled the trigger. The weapon was not even aimed up at Mathieu, it was aimed at the Bryn's front, relatively near the Padawan who stood somewhere near the foe's side. But then, it did not really matter - the mortar-like explosion would send him flying regardless. Still, there was a sense of gratitude somewhere - for if he had in fact been closer to the explosion, the potential injuries that he would suffer would be so much greater. When the explosive went off, the Padawan could feel as his body - even with the heavy armour - was hurled away by the shockwave, right as the cloud of fire enveloped his armour and licked his face.

The pain materialised in a multitude of ways as the burning heat made its mark by his neck and jaw. The pain from the shockwave came as if in waves and an intense thudding could be felt in his head. The sounds of war grew distant as an annoying and seemingly everlasting squeal met his eardrums. The Padawan's heavy breaths soon started to become noticeable for him and the realisation that he might have been knocked out for some time kicked in. While he did not scream, the pained grunts that would soon start to escape him were loud enough for anyone nearby to hear - although, he was not that far away from the main battle where many more injured soldiers involuntarily shared the knowledge of how pained they were with the world.

Getting his eyes to open was a fight in itself, but when they finally did, they opened at full. The skies above him looked peaceful as the battleships above the city were not within his field of vision. A single stray blaster bolt flew by dozens of metres above him. Instead of letting it bring him back into the war, he simply admired the red beam as it dutifully soared through the skies in a straight line. It was a nice distraction from the pain that kept coursing through his very being. Slowly, thoughts of self-blame crossed his mind - it was reckless of him to try to do what he did. He should have kept a closer eye on the Bryn's weapons and finished the fight before going off on some sentimental mission to spare a foe of their suffering. The Jedi tried to restrain himself - it was now in the past and he could not allow a setback to compromise his compassion. He would need to become smarter, stronger and fight harder. But if he lost himself in it, it would all be for naught regardless.

Letting his head fall to the side, the Padawan saw Osam lying on the ground in the distance. Unlike Mathieu, his body was much more severely wounded with all signs pointing towards him dying eventually or already having died. At any rate, pain was probably not much of a concern for the - at least - unconscious Bryn. Moving his limbs a little, he could feel how he had managed to hold on to the Bryn rifle despite the explosion. Still, continuing to fire on the foe was not something he wished for. The monster had uttered the word 'Mercy' as Mathieu was about to execute him - and with that utterance, he would receive just what he asked for. Of course, Mathieu still believed that it might be for the best to end the Bryn's suffering, but in this case, it was the thoughts of his foe that mattered.

Letting his head fall to the other side, Mathieu noticed that the larger battle between his troopers and those of the Bryn attacker was mostly concluded. A few of the of the monsterous fighters still remained, a couple Quilxyn had died while the rest had escaped upon seeing the deaths of their handlers. The scene around the Frittata was a gruesome one indeed and while it was clear that the Concord troopers were winning, they had suffered heavy casualties and many of the survivors had suffered immensely either physically or mentally - or both. Even as the remaining attackers were hopelessly outnumbered, outgunned and blinded, they still fought on with an almost animalistic ferocity.

With a tired move, the injured Padawan raised the Bryn rifle with much support from the Gundark armour. The pain was unbelievable, but he still had a duty to the troopers who had followed his lead and fought by his side during the battle. Pulling the trigger, a single massive Bryn bullet was launched in a deadly path towards the last standing Bryn warrior on the field. It hit the dirt, for Mathieu was far too injured to aim properly at that distance - instead, the beast was killed by a laser bolt moments later. It was a sign that the battle really was over for the Padawan. With that, he let go of the rifle, letting the heavy Bryn weapon fall to the ground, just as their last warrior did the same.

"The battle is over" he said, his voice having recovered to the point of not sounding weak but still a little shaky from the pain. His words would sound over the coms - the frontal soldiers in his troop already knew but the ones who had stayed at the entrenched position, either treating the wounded or providing long range overwatch and support cheered upon hearing the news. "We have to be weary, still. There is more fighting in-...." his sentence of warning was cut short as another shuttle could soon be seen rising above the treeline in the distance. A direct communication to the troopers guarding the landing pad by the tunnel entrance could be heard, albeit with some static "This is Captain Solsken of the Neptima. We are away and heading towards the rendezvous point with the last of the evacuees." Mathieu let out a relieved sigh upon hearing that the last of the people they had fought so hard to defend had made it away. The message of staying vigilant paled in comparison to what they had just been informed of. With a relieved voice, he let out the words "We've won" The lives of those they had been fighting so hard to protect was what truly mattered - and now, they were safe.

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

​

BLOOD GULCH
​

Objective: Agoraphobia
Location: Burrower
Bryn'Bois: Hrajlmak'Natok | Seer Kalanthir | Osam | Tathra Khaeus | Kad | Udomek Seker | Keldothera | Kelmor |
Enemy: Gir Quee | Elijah King
Equipment: Staff | Cuirass |

All around him, the Ashaka worked to heal the dormant Primarch; using the force to mend his wounds as his subservient Shamans fought to maintain their battlefield supremacy. He could feel the pride of the Overseer Beast Master, and the anguish of the First Warlock as both decided to work toward the same goal. The anguish of the young First hurt him, he could feel it almost intimately. It reminded him of Ankhypt, of the celebration and how he had treated Hrajlmak like a child when he had his outburst. Perhaps he had been wrong to do so, perhaps they had all been wrong to grant his request and send him to the fringes to die with the first handful of their order.

In truth, Tathra had banished him but it had been the Primarch's request both times. Though the second was an unofficial banishment. Guilt stricken, Drek'ma used what little strength he had left to manipulate the Mind Stone in his grasp, lending his influence of the beasts to the Ostak, Hrajlmak and the Seer Kalanthir. His strength, blossoming once more to prop up the younger Generations. In that moment, he understood that his role was not to ensure that he survived but to ensure that there were strong Shaman to surpass him when he eventually fell. This was his duty, to fight alongside them - not above them. He was their Primarch, not their Master.

The fight is not over, my Shaman. I lend what strength I have to give, to you. My students..

The thought like a whisper through the force as Drek'ma called on the depths of the force, what little he had left to draw on used to enhance that of those still standing, still ready to fight. If he could bring himself to rise upon broken feet, he would. But he could not. All the Primarch could do, was hope that the Bryn'adul saw the battle to its rightful end.

For the Titan, for ourselves; my kin!

 

[Ki'an Vizsla]

Objective: 2
Location: Remote surface entryway
Equipment: 2x WESTAR-35 blaster pistols | Vambraces (Right: Grappling line, flamethrower, repulsor) (Left: Dart launcher with poison darts, shield emitter, whipcord thrower, concealed blade | Z-6 Jetpack | Shock grenade | Flash grenade | Medpac | Vibroknife | Commlink | Stimulant
Allies: Mathieu Brion & the SJC
Enemies: Osam

It soon became apparent that the Jedi planned on executing their fallen enemy just from the lingering before any words were exchanged. "Of course." He replied, his gaze flicking between the pair. The Jedi were not executioners by nature and though he wasn't entirely familiar with their philosophy he imagined it must not have been a comfortable situation for the Padawan. For a moment, he considered offering to do the deed for his younger counterpart, unaware if he had committed such an act before and if not then there was the potential to spare him from having the death on his conscience. Ki'an did not want to execute the man any more than Mathieu but being the elder of the two and from the culture that he was had desensitised him from war and its consequences. Ultimately, he decided not to mollycoddle the Jedi and allowed him to use his own judgement to do as he saw fit.

It wasn't a word he heard often, mercy, but now that he did it evoked a mixture of feelings from the Mandalorian. Was their enemy, now at their mercy, appealing to their empathy? His memories turned to the atrocities committed by the Bryn, both historical and present, the refugees they had welcomed to Mandalore as a result and the wounds of those unfortunate enough to have been touched by the war crimes that cared not for them. He had saved one man's life but saw seven more die and wondered how many of them had begged for mercy. But mercy had never been about the receiver, always the giver. It didn't have to mean those receiving mercy didn't deserve to die but spoke more of the honour of the person they were appealing to. In the situation they faced, however, the most merciful response might have been to end the clearly suffering being's misery.

Ki'an started to descend to take a stance beside Mathieu but before his feet could touch the floor he was flung away by the shockwave of an unanticipated attack in what seemed to be a last effort from their opponent to grant himself a meaningful death. For the most part, he was spared the worst of the attack though was still flung violently against a tree with the blunt force against his jetpack reigniting it and sending him hurtling skywards. He acted quickly, slamming his hand against a button on his vambrace that would deactivate the electromagnet keeping him tied to the uncontrollable death trap. It was not ideal to fall from such a height but the alternative could've likely been much more deadly than what he risked now.

Initially, he landed on his feet, having had no time to position himself to better distribute the force upon landing. His already weakened leg crumbled beneath him with a sickening crunch but he quickly placed his hands out to cushion the fall and prevent his head from hitting the ground with such force. He groaned at the rise of the throbbing sensation that shot down his leg, though it plateaued after his adrenaline rose to account for the situation, further reminding him that he was in a battle and he didn't have the luxury of being injured when there was no one around to help. Aside from a lack of mobility, he remained otherwise unhindered, though he was wary of drawing attention to himself by firing on their enemy lest they turn on him, leaving him with no escape, so his gaze shifted elsewhere with a look of concern, seeking the Padawan who had been closest to the blast.

With a grunt, Ki'an pushed himself onto his hands and knees, thankfully much of the injury had been confined to his ankle and lower leg aside from the burn on his thigh which had dulled into an ache by now. He slowly dragged himself the few metres that separated him from his ally, a look of discomfort on his face as he strained with the movement of his injured leg. The sounds of gunfire grew far and few between and by the time he reached Mathieu it had ceased entirely. His gaze turned to the former battlefield, littered with bodies from allies and enemies alike. It was over. They could rest easy tonight knowing they had helped to save people from becoming another statistic in the Bryn's countless crimes against the galaxy. Their own fallen soldiers would be given the respect they deserved but now there was still the immediate aftermath of the battle to handle.

Once beside Mathieu, he placed himself into a sitting position and removed his helmet, placing it on the ground beside them now it had been deemed safe to do so. He imagined the Jedi was at risk of having a head injury due to the blunt trauma he experienced and there were likely several other unknown injuries. He would need more extensive medical treatment than what could be offered at current or a visit to a Jedi healer but medics were never meant to replace specialist medical treatment, only to prolong life so that it can be received. He didn't have anything more than a medpac equipped to most soldiers since he wasn't present in a medic capacity but as a soldier. Though as part of his identity, he wouldn't allow himself to be caught unprepared and helpless without medical equipment to hand. Still, with the limited equipment he had he could ease the discomfort for the both of them.

Ki'an shared the Padawan's sentiments and offered a relieved smile, placing his hand on his ally's shoulder gently, as he didn't know the extent of the other's injuries, in a sign of camaraderie. "Yeah, we have."

 

[Ostak Cl'mana]

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POST: XI
OBJECTIVE: BABYSIT DREK'MA AGRAPHOBIA (II)
LOCATION: BURROWER DESCENDING TO LAND ON PLANETARY CRUST, CITY OUTSKIRTS
DRAEL ALLIES ON OBJECTIVE: Primarch Drek'ma (in relative proximity) / Hrajlmak'Natok & co. (in close proximity) / Seer Kalanthir
HOSTILES: SJC
EQUIPMENT: Traditional Shaman robes
BEASTS: 2x Guardians (anchored)

"You have it, Overseer"

"You have my gratitude, First Warlock." replied Ostak. "But do be careful about using my Vemnak title in the presence of our juniors."

With his closing remark, Ostak reached out to the resting behemoths.
​

The Shaman-Overseer's invisible waves combined with the First Warlock's, both hurtling down into the brains of the massive worms. Slowly but surely, with a great deal of effort, both Guardians awoke to Ostak's beckoning. They twisted and writhed, struggling in the confines of the beast hangar. It would be the Shaman-Overseer's first move to release them.

~Dive.~
​

With a sudden shift of weight that shook the entire Burrower, the Guardians lumbered out of the dropship and dropped. They slammed into the ground with enough force to tear a hole half a kilometer deep into the crust, rock fragments flying so far up that some made contact with the Burrower above, bouncing harmlessly off its plating. A cloud of dirt and dust filled the air around the Burrower, temporarily concealing it from precise orbital bombardment. Taking advantage of the reprieve, Ostak put all his energy into the burrowing of the Guardians.

The great worms burrowed down into the ground with ruthless efficency, gaining meter after meter for the Burrower's descent. Excited by their progress, they dug deeper and faster, straining Ostak to his limit. In a move of calculated necessity, he reached out and absorbed all of the First Warlock's deployed power, needing its boost in order to keep himself stable with his outflow of power. Warlock Hrajlmak would find himself suddenly disconnected from the Guardians, given a temporary reprieve as Ostak took control of both beasts.

Now, just one final effort remained. Further encouraged by a boost of energy from the Primarch recovering elsewhere onboard, Ostak gave his all to the worm's final dive. As blood began to seep from his nose and mouth, the Shaman-Overseer distracted himself by reciting the seven tenants of the Draelvasier.

"Apathy. Balance. Accountability. Weakness. Strength. Battle. Comradery."

They were essential elements of the Draelvasier philosophy, elements that Ostak continued to draw on as the Guardians sunk deeper.

"Apathy. Balance. Accountability. Weakness. Strength. Battle. Comradery."

They were essential elements for Ostak to preserve as an Overseer of the Tachael-Vemnak, ensuring a prosperous future for the Drael of the Kesh system even if he was never recognized by his lessers for his achievements.

"Apathy. Balance. Accountability. Weakness. Strength. Battle. Comradery."

They were essential elements drilled into Ostak thousands of times from birth, elements that he could recite even with his tongue cut off through sheer willpower.

"Apathybalanceaccountabilityweaknessstrengthbattlecomradery."

Ostak's chant became louder and more desperate the deeper the Guardians burrowed, the Burrower now under three hundred meters off the ground. Just one more push, one more three hundred meter hurtle before Ostak could relieve his failing power.

"Apathybalanceaccountabilityweaknessstrengthbattlecomraderyapathybalanceaccountabilityweaknessstrengthbattlecomradery."

The lower hull of the Burrower slammed into the ground hard enough to leave a crater in the soil, the task of the Guardians complete. With an immense sigh, Ostak let go of his mental reins. The resulting resurgence of power combined with sudden fatigue nearly sent the Shaman-Overseer into a coma, causing him to tumble backwards. Still, his vow of leadership made him rise once more.

"Beast Master, Seer. Whatever you plan to do. Do it now! We shall strike them TOGETHER."

[Very well.] replied Ostak into his command stone. [All units and beasts, hunt down any survivors who have surfaced!]

There was at once a great commotion, Rhivaks, Obaliscs, and Ra'mak Beasts launching out ahead of Juggernauts, Zealots, Warlocks, and Drones.

Now nearly powerless in spiritual energy and barely able to get any further words out of his painfully dry mouth, Ostak delegated himself to watching the incoming onslaught, taking pride in the continued zeal of his underlings as they adhered valiantly to the very tenants he had introduced minutes earlier.

- OSTAK CONCLUDE -​

 

[Auteme]

S H I E L D
Near the City Center | Kaleleon | Open(?)​

Power doesn't corrupt, it reveals.

Auteme, as hard as she tried, couldn't do it.

The doubts that crept in chipped at her resolve. What if she was simply facilitating more death? What if the barrier wasn't strong enough? What about the ones who'd already passed it? The shield generator? The few civilians that might still be hiding away in the city? The soldiers cut off from their command?

What if she couldn't do it?

That was the last nail in the coffin. She just... couldn't. She questioned too much. She doubted. She feared. What she was trying to do was beyond anything she'd ever attempted, even if it wasn't everything, but it was the fear that held her back from trying to place that wall. The glowing strands that'd soared through the air only moments before retreated. She fell to her knees. The glow of her aura dulled.

But the world around her didn't stop -- it didn't notice her. The Drael hordes moved closer, the Concord and Jedi fought hard, and she knelt on the roof of the building. With all the strength afforded to her she still couldn't do more. The indecision, the weakness, held her back.

Danger crept closer. A low hum, at first; a warrior's step, a soldier of the Concord. Then the roar -- tearing through the city, a wave of chaotic destruction emanating from the central shield generator.

The world slowed. She turned her head to see it, the slow creep of death, screeching and flailing. What was once the bulwark against destruction had become exactly that. The shield, now modified, tore through in a red rage.

In an instant her doubts subsided. Though she faltered often, she knew there were some things she had to face. Death, at any scale, even of evil creatures was always a tragedy. Faced with death, she had to act. Given strength, she could.

The aura around her body returned brighter than ever. Her hands reached forward, threads of the Force springing from them. With ease and grace they wove together, forming a lattice in front of her. More and more threads were woven in, each longer than the last. Her barrier grew; a bulwark against destruction. A pale, glowing wall held fast against the chaos unleashed, expanding at the same rate as the death-shield itself and keeping those within safe from those destructive energies.

Her protection was indiscriminate -- Concord soldiers, Drael, and all the others that were behind her barrier were spared. Yet as that terrible weapon fled into the distance, she couldn't help but wonder if she was only prolonging the slow death at Sarka.

For a moment, there was life, and that was enough reason to protect it.

 

[Sethrak]

Post: 10
Objective: Coagulation
Allies: Bryn, Tathra Khaeus
Foes: Caltin Vanagor Laertia Io
Inventory: 1x Barad Kukri X Theron Armor X
Location: With Tathra

She was unfazed by his illusions, ignoring them with seemingly no effort, though it did stop her assault on Tathra. Caltin on the other hand had not ceased his attacks, as he somehow eluded Tathra's grip and jumped onto his back, gripping his large head to the best of his ability.

She had spawned her own illusion, Sethrak saw it through The Force. Would Tathra know it wasn't real? Perhaps he would if he didn't have a large man on his back. He tried to tell the Titan telepathically, a warning that it was an illusion.

Sethrak couldn't help Tathra this time as the woman somehow appeared in front of him, taking no time before unleashing the sloppiest, yet most vicious series of swings, pokes, and slashes he had ever seen. For once he wished he had his old Val-Shae spear rather than the Khukri, as the girl had a massive advantage with the reach of the spear-like lightsaber. He rapidly stepped back, deflecting as many hits as he could. However it wasn't enough, one hit struck his thigh, another hit his left bicep. The only reason he wasn't amputated in two places was his armor. Well, his armor, and his reflexes that allowed him to move before the saber sliced through.

Regardless, it hurt like mad as the spear of hot light cut and singed his flesh and armor.

He needed to do something, and he needed to do it fast. The woman's sloppy attack was relentless and he'd already been hit twice.

His rage fueled him, he had grown in The Force over the past years. He was going to try something he had never done before. He never experimented on the battlefield, and if this failed, it could mean his life. However he had no choice. His thoughts went to Tathra. Perhaps he'd throw the big Jedi off of him, but what if he didn't? He was wounded, and he'd been fighting four Jedi today. He was tired, surely. The two had had their differences before. Sethrak didn't even trust his leadership just months ago. But they had saved each other, and Tathra was their leader. He had earned Sethrak's respect again.

Sethrak would not and could not let him die. Even if he didn't respect the Titan, it was undeniable that The Bryn'adul needed his leadership. He had brought them countless victories. His death could destroy the Bryn within a day. They would have no leaders, the warlords would all claim the right, meanwhile the enemy would seize the opportunity to strike and chip away at Bryn territory. It would be a disaster.

Beyond Tathra was Sethrak himself. He fought all his life, he knew that death was part of it, but now the possibility of death stared him in the face. He was afraid. He had come so far, he had a garrison, he had power, he had respect. He didn't want to lose it. He didn't want to be replaced by some other Drael Warlock.

His fear of the future fueled him, mixing with his rage, it fed him, gave him focus and made him stronger.

It was time.

He stopped his blocking, he ended his retreat, and with this pause he reached out with his left hand. The fire he had prepared extinguished as he caught the woman's saber in mid swing.

He clenched it tightly with his fist, half expecting his hand to be severed. But it didn't cut through, his gamble paid off. The Force was absorbing the energy. But he wanted more than that, he wanted to leech the energy, not just absorb it. He looked at the saber, its' heat appearing in his vision as pure white, nearly blinding him. It was all he could see. With it in his focus he commanded The Force to pull the energy from the saber.

He didn't know if it would work or not....but he expected the result to be the deactivation of the blade. He assumed, at the least, the saber would flicker and weaken. Even if it only lasted seconds, it'd be enough to give him a chance to strike the woman. He hoped.

 

[Seer Kalanthir]

BLOOD GULCH
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Objective: Coagulation
Location: Salyrini City
Allies: Ostak Cl'mana | Hrajlmak'Natok | Primarch Drek'ma | Ver'kad Inuk | Badar | Galak |
Enemies: Gir Quee | Jyoti Nooran | Elijah King |

His fellow Drael lend him his strength, pouring into his own power as the storm crackled and roared above. The small metal slats across his garments reflecting the magnetising red lights above. The Seer felt the flow of energy as the Primarch himself added to his strength, further deepening his control of both of the massive storm and the Phedraks and Ra'maks hiding within the maelstrom. Today had been one of hardship, as the Bryn'adûl struck once more against their neighbouring foe, the Silver Jedi and once again they employed the tactics of cowards, sacrificing their own. He understood sacrifice when absolutely necessary, but needlessly throwing them away when one could simply recede? Filth.

He looked to the sky, mixtures of red and blues filled the air as the Jedi drew on what last vestiges of power they had. But ultimately, there was nothing they could do to stop the Bryn now. Or him. He saw through the whirlpool, he saw the Concordian fleet above as they threw down fire upon themselves and the rising forces of the Bryn'adûl.

With the powers vested in me by you, my kin. I will BRING DOWN THESE HERETICS!

In unison with the attacks of the fleet, Ostak and Hrajlmak's move to fight on the surface; Kalanthir directed singular powerful beams of ionic lightning directly into the enemy fleet, hoping to overpower their systems and rip them from the sky. At the same time, a sea of Ra'maks and Phedraks poured out from the centre of the whirlpool

With all the power readily available at his fingertips, red talons of ionic lightning seeped out from his fingers, empowering the storm above as it lashed at the enemy.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

BLOOD GULCH
​

Objective: Coagulation
Location: Southwest Quadrant
Allies: Sethrak |
Enemies: Caltin Vanagor | Laertia Io
Axe | Gauntlet | Armour |
Mount: Dreddikkast |

Tathra darted low, attention turning back to the Jedi as he seemingly pried himself free of the Titan's grasp. Leaping overhead, exposing his midsection entirely as the Chieftain simply side-stepped into a pivot, the arcing lightning crashing between them as with a two-handed strike he swung across the distance between them. Sheens of yellow tendrils crossed the distance between them as the lightning struck him, rippling across his body with such power that the Axe nearly slipped from his fingers, pain striking tingling sensations across him. He felt the Axe strike make purchase, but when the powerful bolt of pure azure energy dissipated between them, only crumbling walls remained in the path and a Caltin lying flat on his back. No one ever gained anything from exposing themselves during combat, especially smaller and weaker species. But he could not take the time to inspect if the Jedi was dead or not.

He moved toward the centre of the battlefield, looking to the sky. The fleet had arrived, a confident grin across the Titan's face as the Burrowers moved above ground, ready to fight once more in the name of truth and strength. Their devotion to the fight matched his own, exceeded it. But, he and Sethrak would be their to lead it. The ground shifted once more. Separating into sporadic plates as the earth began to rapidly crumble beneath them. With a whistle, the Dreddikkast swooped down; glad to return to its masters side. Tathra took to the reigns, the massive beast blasting forward with a few gallops of its massive tendril like arms, slamming down beside the Warlock. Whatever else that remained their would be crushed by its many arms if they stayed put, if not she was of no more consequence than the other annoyances he had entertained today.

The Obaliscs were carried in retreating Gunboats, narrowly avoiding the red sheen of energy as the massive beasts had been waiting to strike once again; their charged beams focus firing on the enemy fleet as they rose above in unison with the horde of travesties and monsters heralded from the dark red abyssal storm. The Titan reached down, the Axe settled on his back as he extended his right hand to the Warlock. They fought together this day, and the trust once lost would begin to find new roots to grow from.

For the good of the Draelvasier. For the Bryn'adûl, for each other.

"Let's finish this, Warlock."

His words sincere, ready to rescue Sethrak from the doomed city. They would take the fight to the battle above, and wipe out the last of the Sarkans along with the enemy fleet above.

"Together."

 

[Laertia Io]

Sethrak rapidly crumpled under her vicious spear attack. But apparently he knew Tutaminis, for he caught the blade and began absorbing its energy.

No, not just absorbing it...leeching it.

Not-Yet-Xiphos cursed inwardly. The blade started to flicker. She began to drive the Blade further, hoping to overwhelm his ability to take in the energy and kill him...

The Force screamed a warning to her and it was all she could do to avoid the massive tentacles, managing to rip her spear away from Sethrak and try to get out of the way. But one still partly clipped her.

Pain exploded across her body as her chest armor was severely dented on one side by the impact, crackin part of her helmet, revealing her mutated Bronze and Green eye as she was sent skidding far away from them.

She felt two of her ribs break on one side, The Armor's painkiller function had been reduced greatly. The near unbearable agony remained as she stood up. The Regenerative function was barely working. The damage was reversing, but very slowly.

Not-Yet-Xiphos forced herself to stand, looking for something, anything. She found her spear...

Lying next to a Stouker Concussion Rifle from one of her fallen sons.

She checked it, barely able to think, picking it up as Tathra Khaeus stretched down his hand to Sethrak. One shot left in it. Sarka burned. She had failed again. The stupid, stubborn Jedi, and their refusal to unite had failed everyone again and now Kashyyyk itself was open for slaughter.

But she swore to do everything in her power to fight.

Not-Yet-Xiphos aimed, what was left of her helmet's telescope systems helping her.

She fought to stay concious as Tathra said "Together"

Not-Yet-Xiphos fired the Concussive shot right at Tathra's face, the deadly purple energy bolt arcing for it...

 

[Kaleleon]

LOCATION: Somewhere in the City.
OBJECTIVE: 1, Be the Shield.
LOADOUT: Saber, Pistol, Holster, Jumpsuit, Poncho, Gloves, Lodestone, Gel Packets,
ALLIES: Auteme
ENEMIES: Open

Auteme moved onward. Expecting me to follow. I could feel the force flowing through her. The waves and ripples gradually getting larger and larger. Even as she began to form the latice that would be a shield to defend against the Bryn and all that they would bring forth. At the same time, Life is valued above all. The Jedi, as an individual, as well as a religion, a faith, and belief, that life in all forms was sacred and deserved a chance to thrive against the destruction of the universe.

I watched in amazement as she formed this wall. A fabrication of the force that was channeled deeply with the desire to not just protect those who she would deem deserving of life, but undiscrimatory actions she took. The lattice reached out. Ever moving to defend those around her. Seeing this, was... I couldn't like. Inspiring. To see what she was willing to give, everything, for this action. It reminded me of a quote said many times over and over. That a man would be guilty of all the good he didn't do. Standing there, watching as she began to create this field to extend out from her, I closed my eyes.

Taking a step forward, I reached out open hands Allowing the force to flow from me. The projection of all that I had was being fueled into Auteme's own presence. If there was one thing I could do, of all that was here, was to be the shield for all who were within the city. No matter who they may be aligned with. Protecting the City at all costs was the objective.

 

[Syd Celsius]

Syd had already picked up Hadrian, The Golden Nuetralizer, and Lyssa, along with as many survivors as the ship could carry, including Val Drutin and his brother's remains. She didn't know Val but Laertia did. The Dark Side was in him, but with all she had experienced today, that wasn't even a concern now. They had to evac. But she refused to leave without Laertia. One of Laertia's "Light Sith", a Stealth Knight in dark green, tattered robes and severely burned on one side had begged to board, saying he knew where Laertia was and that he had something vital.

Syd let him aboard and he directed her. With all the death and suffering it was becoming difficult to pinpoint her even with their bond.

She finally sensed Laertia, or rather, who Laertia had become this day, and automatically drove her ship to her, avoiding the terrible lightning storms. Felt her pain, and her despair, and pure disgust towards The Jedi...

...and Syd found herself troublingly empathetic towards it. Everything about Sarka had been a disaster from start to finish.

Syd didn't know what the future held, but she was becoming certain of this much:

This war couldn't be won The Jedi Order's way.

Syd spotted her out of a viewport as she piloted, heavily injured, her armor a broken, totalled mess. Bruised, blooded. Only the will was unbroken. It was clear Laertia had only retreated when the only other choice was death. She still had her weapons, amazingly enough, though it was clear they needed repairs.

Syd swung the ship around, opening the hatch.

With the last of her strength, Not-Yet-Xiphos teleported aboard, immediately collapsing as the Morpheus Chitin fell off her in pieces. The first sight that greeted her was the body of Alyosha.

Yoshi, her friend, was gone. The reality of it hit both Not-Yet-Xiphos and whatever remained of the old Laertia who had finally ceded control.

Hadrian and Lyssa immediately began to tend to her injuries as Syd frantically avoided the deadly red lightning, managing at last to escape into the Atmosphere, close to what was left of SJC orbital defenses as an escape vector. They barely cleared the leap into hyperspace towards pre-arranged coordinates.

Not-Yet-Xiphos turned and found the Stealth Knight hovering over her.

"How many Stealth Knights escaped?" Not-Yet-Xiphos asked.

"Fourteen. Every War Knight died to secure their escape at all costs...including mine..." The Stealth Knight answered, having had special orders from Laertia before the invasion.

All the Stealth Knights had special orders. All of them. They weren't there to fight unless given no choice.

Instead, their orders had been to gather.

Every scrap or sample of Bryn'adul tech that they could carry. Weapons, equipment. Pieces of armor. Sample of tissue from all hostile species encountered. The genetic samples were the most important, cut from the remains of the slain. All while hiding themselves with the Force, and their bodies with Stealth tech. The Nuetralizers had similar orders when possible. Most had not escaped.

The Stealth Knight so desperate to get aboard Syd's ship and escape had gotten a great prize. His orders had been very specific. He was to be present during her attempt to kill Tathra. Her attempt had failed. But a prize had been obtained nonetheless.

"Did you get it?" Not-Yet-Xiphos demanded quietly.

The Stealth Knight nodded, retrieving a single small stasis container containing a piece of metal shrapnel. It was stained, still slick with Black Blood.

It was the blood of Tathra Khaeus . The same piece that had cut his head. In all the chaos, The Stealth Knight had retrieved it at great risk while he was distracted fighting her and Caltin Vanagor

"What did you get?" Syd asked.

"Hopefully a means to defeat the Warlord...next time..." Not-Yet-Xiphos answered as they headed back into CIS territory, to Naboo specifically.

As soon as they arrived, the very first thing Not-Yet-Xiphos did was send an urgent, priority message to her only living blood relative, Nine Lives, saying it was a matter of life and death that they meet at once...the future depended on it...