Invasion Cleansing Fire | BotM Invasion of GA held Jedha and Jakku

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent, Nite agent | Marauder of the Maw​

Objective I: Defile the City
Location: Tythoni Square, New Jedha City, Jakku
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Omega Phase Assault Rifle | 2x PV-16 "Sunfury" Pulse Pistol | Druetium Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger || Stealth field generator || OPBC-01m
Allies: The Mongrel | Marlon Sularen | Tegan Starfall
Enemies: Harson Thaddeus | Bernard of Arca | Zark San Tekka | Gorthalon | Asmundr Varobalder | Seto Du Coutaeu | Westenra Mina

[ Mitternacht ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Spoiler: TL;DR

• She asked Callym for help breaking the blockade on the main street to divert others from town to here, and talked about the enemy's reinforcements to the man.
• Inside the square in the direction of the way to the temple, the men of Harson Thaddeus were attacked.

How? Where did these new reinforcements come from? Were they seriously allowed to themselves that, we massacre the city, kill thousands, and they withheld their army? This is the Light Side's morality? I had to laugh, which then turned into a cough. I coughed up a large amount of blood. It wasn’t my broken rib now like it used to be. I fell to my knees and vomited blood. Additional red markings. I know MANIAC, I know!

<< Callym, this is Mercy! The enemy sent infantry and mechanized brigades into the square. Our troops on the main street must break through Allinace's defence as soon as possible! If you can, direct others out of town to that point! >>

I was hoping there would be others who could be redirected here. In the meantime, I also saw the three figures he had previously sent to me with Mongrel. Kneeling, I tried to look around. My condition wasn’t exactly the best for me to lead an army. Last but not least, I was not a warlord. I've never done anything like this. I had an idea or two but those... anyone could tell those ideas, if they were in the place I was, but nothing more. That didn't make me a warlord. Feth!

<< In the first line, the Scav Kings should start, trying to destroy the mechanized brigades with heavy artillery. If possible from a distance. Let the Tarar Warband go with them, they also attack the same target, while they are also attacking the infantry. The others behind them. Once a gap has been made in Harson Thaddeus ' men, the Scar Hounds break forward and are covered by the others. >> I ordered.

I tried to get up from the ground, so far it failed; in the meantime, however, I watched that after the order, the various units began to organize into groups according to what I had asked them to do. I was hoping I hadn't ordered nonsense. I didn’t want to be defeated on the first such mission. We had to win! I have to! I looked up at a familiar voice as my men began to attack.

Missiles set off for the enemy, accompanied by a heavy fire.

 

[Ishida Ashina]

A DARK SHADOW NEEDS LIGHT
JEDHA | JEDI MONASTERY → NEW JEDHA CITY
A DARK SHADOW NEEDS LIGHT TO EXIST
BUT LIGHT DOESN'T NEED DARKNESS TO BE LUMINOUS

From ledge to ledge, rung to rung, Ishida’s ascension was as precarious as it is fast. She’d never seen this outline before, this equipment, these patterns of a lattice, but small whispers from Ashla tell her to go right, to put her hand here, to avoid that druxy space, to scuttle across this gantry with precarious balance. In an ascension beckoned by The Force itself.

The Monastery had been guarded by a single, stoic stone statue that stretched far above the bridge she’d run from. Where she’d left the Sith behind to figure out his own survival. It had taken her several minutes to reach where the shoulder blades would have been, climbing the stairway-like equipment as if it were his spine. At the top, she’d at least have a better vantage point of where to go to survive. And if by some miracle she could still answer Bernard’s call to get to Jedha’s Holy City…

It was a distracting thing, hope. So she shunted any further thoughts along that line and focused on the immediate necessity. She had to get out of here before she went anywhere else. And with fire and black consuming the sky, that task seemed to flirt more and more with impossibility.

By the time she reached the nape of his thick, stony neck, the hairs on the back of her own were standing straight up. It was a sensation that overwhelmed the ache in her muscles and stirred even the marrow of her bones.

Dread welled up in her stomach and she cast a wayward glance behind her. Instantly, her breath hitched in her throat and she snapped her focus back to climb to safety. The image below was small, the giant Sith reduced to a height no larger than her flattened hand. Her katana’s hilt was even taller than him at this point.

But it wasn’t his physical that had inspired the wretched curdling in her perception. It was his metaphysical conjuring. The darkside bloated around him, dark, drenching the space that was the platform and swirling, howling. And Ishida was too far away to do anything about it.

All she could do was run.

Almost breathless, she made her final stretching grab for the statue’s ear, shoving her feet into its lobe and pulling herself up into the hairline to stand at the top of the hooded cranium.

Precious seconds ticked away unthinkingly while she kept her bloodied, bruised self upright. No longer did she glance backward, where dread grew. She had to look out to hope.

In her immediate sights, the canyons were littered with little bouquets of ships. Petals of fire and debris as one after the other erupted either against the walls or to enemy fire. In a haunting, terrible way, it was sort of pretty.

And through those smatterings of eruptions and formations, a lone ship cruised at low altitude away from the trajectory of the others. Ishida felt the involuntary, unconscious swell of naive yearning blossom in her chest, and she took a step forward as if to get a better look.
It was! It was hope in the shape of a B-Wing!

Drawing in a deep breath, Ishida let the sting of needing assistance roll through her and fade into relief. Relief turned into anxious calculations as she furrowed her brow.

Her time in a cockpit, on any starfighter, was limited. But seeing the blade cut through the desert, straight for her, with a bogie on its tail, made the outcome of anything with those variables obvious. And the distant, urgent plea from Chaar went unheard, but the sentiment that culminated around the words was tangible through The empyrean to the little Jedi.

Rocking back on her heels, Ishida shifted her weight and prepared to dart forward and leap from the forehead of the ancient, hooded figure that stood protector over the Monastery. On the balls of her feet, making the final transition from static to dynamic leap of faith over the edge, Ishida heard the klaxons of The Force in her mind.

“No!” Was all she whispered, unable to turn around, unable to make any sort of defence.

Timed with when she’d meant to make her leap, Ishida’s jump turned into a spiralling fall. The midnight black spear ripped through her body as if it were a knife through butter. Sinew and flesh peeled away from the space adjacent to her heart, drawing out blood and an agonized scream that echoed for several meters from the falling Jedi’s descent.

Everything became a great blur as the wind carried her, tossing and rolling in the turbulence. Agony, dark, wicked agony, permeated from the hole in her chest. The darkside stretched and clutched at the edges of the laceration, tightening its grip on her body and reducing her mental capacity to pain. Pain. Pain. Evil.

Her falling was limp, subject to the whims of random currents generated by Jedha and the conflict until some level of consciousness crawled back into her skull. Through the tears, the foggy mist of breathless affliction, she figured out how to open her eyes and try to right herself, tucking her arms by her sides to become more like a bullet than a body. Even the faintest movement hurt, sending trills of torment rolling from the dark wound in her chest.

Radiant heat pressed against her throat and face and everything fell slightly out of focus. The spatters and smears of scorch marks on Commander Charr’s B-Wing shifted from black diamond points of light to halos to clouds, like the whole universe dissolving.

What should have been an elegant landing turned into her body colliding with the flattened top of the B-Wing’s extended wing. Like the platform she’d fallen from. The impact winded her, whooshing the air from her body and sending a rolling shockwave of pain that cracked through her back and shoulders.

When her vision cleared, she realized she was white-knuckle gripping anything on the wing that she could hold on to.
At this speed, the whirls of grime, small rocks and sand that whipped at her face seared against her skin, exfoliating it as much as it tore small fissures against her flesh. She choked back a wet sob and found no air in her lungs to meet it.

Gasping desperately, Ishida shoved the heel of her foot against one of the ridges in the wing to keep from flying back off her transport and rolled from her back to her stomach, choking and begging for air. She blinked through the discomfort, gagging and spitting sand and blood as the elements threatened to fill her mouth.

Now on her stomach, Ishida used one hand to press against the gaping cavity in her chest, and the other to grip the edges of the wing’s curve for dear life. The heel of her hand pressed against the open socket, murmuring small whispers of light to counter the darkness’ spread. It wasn’t something she could fully repair now. With a few more shifts, she adjusted the way her pauldron sat to conceal the wound. Wincing all the while.

Finally, Ishida pulled herself upright. The motion stretched the tear in her chest, and she winced, biting through her tongue to stave off an indecent wail. Somehow, she was distantly aware of a tremour from the starfighter’s body where a cannon fired, or a torpedo was fired (unsure, really) that resulted in the explosion of their pursuant.

On the other side of the cannon, still stretched on the wing, she lifted her head meekly, slowly. Through the canopy's glasteel, she followed the lines of that helmet that had triggered a shift in her psyche earlier. There was a person under there. Not just a corpse. She knew that helmet as Commander Chaar.

A small, tight, knowing smile forced its way through her blood-stained face and she gave the smallest nod in the Commander’s direction to show her appreciation, and two bangs on her palm against the wing to indicate she was alright.

Further calibration of her body took time. A lot of time, cutting through the canyons, ascending from meters above the desert’s endless sands and back into the atmosphere. It was all background noise while the Jedi sought to redeem herself.

This battle wasn’t over.

The Sith at the monastery was only a fraction of the evil Jedha was suffering. And Ishida was tasked with being Light’s harbinger. She swallowed that pill and felt it travel all the way down to her gut and harden.

Adrenaline, hope and The Force would need to take over here, to push her through the unrighteous torture pulsing away in her breast. Hope was hard to find, it was glimmering delicately, precariously, within the metaphysical rolling connections of Jedha City. Somehow, they’d made it this far.

Too far for her to have been idle, nursing a gaping wound this whole time.

One knee after the other, she balanced to stand, stumbling once or twice while combating the internal battle of pain. The Force clamoured around her, gathering her up in that immersive healing, focused battle trance. The agony waxed and waned, replaced by mute nothing instead as the Jedi unclipped her sabre from her belt.

To get into motion, to force herself through it, she quickly broke into a quick run that was cut short as she leaped –– truly leaped this time –– from the ship that had saved her to a TIE that screamed overhead.

The B-Wing had long since ascended, and snapping over the edge of the canyon put them over top of some others that careened around below them. Ishida’s leap was rewarded with the curved dome, like an eyeball, of a dark metal interceptor. Her white blade came to life at the same time as she twisted to make an incision between the pod and the radiator panels.

With a wing gone, the pilot inside was struggling to maintain their path. This method of warfare was unorthodox for the Imperial inside.

Coils from the power chord snapped and sparked, protesting their early severance. The sparks were quickly joined by dark plumes of grey smoke and the TIE’s course quickly pivoted to a downward spiral while Ishida shifted to look to her next target in this deadly game of leapfrog. What had been lilly pads back home on Atrisia were now flying metal death machines.

The excitement almost entirely drowned out the mind-numbing pain. But almost was a poor counter to unfathomable agony. It was an even poorer counter to the blood from her severed arteries that had nowhere to go but out her chest, beneath her armour, and pool an unignorable taste of copper in her mouth. The loss alone, from a wound she tried to ignore, was making those metal lily pads harder and harder to perceive.

---

ALLIES | NJO | GA| Tren Chaar
FOES | BOTM | Laoth | Tu'teggacha | Marlon Sularen

​

 

[Asmundr Varobalder]

THE WARDEN
TO ACT AS THE GUARDIANS OF LIFE
THE NEW JEDI ORDER | PROSPERITY | MEDITATION SPHERE
TO FIGHT IGNORANCE THROUGH KNOWLEDGE
TO ACT AS THE GUARDIANS OF LIFE;
TO BRING LIGHT TO THE DARKNESS;
TO SERVE OTHERS, RATHER THAN RULE;
TO ALWAYS SEEK BETTERMENT;
TO BE THE LIGHT IN THE DARK

​

"Sun and stars,"

A deep, calm smile spread from ear to ear at the initial salutations.

Sun and stars. He echoed, linked through their ethereal bond. One bound in a mutual resurrection from days long past.

"Tythoni Square is lost. We cannot hold the Temple. Bernard...the Knight of Arca might be dead. I can no longer sense his presence."

That smile fell, becoming a sombre line of distress. A slight quiver flickered across his eyelids, which remained closed, and he drew in a deep centering breath. The Knight of Arca’s fate was not one he had perceived, it had fallen outside the expected patterns and outcomes of Jedha’s battle. It wouldn’t be the first time the visions of the future were fogged and distorted, misleading him, but Bernard was one of his students. The acuteness of his clairvoyance should have been stronger.

“He lives, as do many more from your efforts,” Asmundr reassured, trusting in the truth of The Force. The things he’d seen, felt, been promised.

//>"Prosperity, this is Overlord, you couldn't have come at a better time. Requesting immediate air support for our artillery batteries as they're currently engaged with enemy TIEs, transmitting the coordinates now."<\\

He could have come at a better time, but with technology and The Force working in almost harmony, this was the best he could manage.

The artificial mind of Arcanus intercepted the coordinates and calculated the difference in Prosperity’s location versus the demands of the Jedi.

<We’ll do our best, General.> The systematic voice of the long-dead Jedi Master promised through the finicky connection. Meanwhile, several synthetic pilots adjusted the controls of Prosperity’s unique angled exterior, to amplify the shields to dissuade the direct hits. Energy reactions skittered over the gossamer diamond, reducing their integrity hit after hit from the combined efforts of both Sularen’s Battlecruiser and Assault ship.

<Lock targets on the smaller attacker.> The systems team coordinated, synchronizing their efforts and triangulating Prosperity’s cannons to target the smaller attack vessel. <Once we bring that down, we shift focus to the larger.>

“Remember our focus here is to preserve life.” Asmundr encouraged uselessly, not adding to the strategy at all with his reminders.

<Not all life.> One of the synthetics countered and deployed another salvo targeted at the assault ship.

BATTLEMELD: ACTIVE
​

ALLIES | GA | NJO | Zark San Tekka | Bernard of Arca | Harson Thaddeus | Gorthalon | Syndulla Command | Seto Du Couteau
FOES | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | Marlon Sularen

---

---

GREEN TWO
X-02 SABER CLASS X-WING | FLIGHTSUIT | LIGHTSABRE
6/6 GREEN SQUADRON​

<Clean up duty? On it.> Two repeated enthusiastically through the comms, almost sing-songing. Each squadron made a shift in their original flight plan, deviating and splitting from the shuttles only subtly to refocus more of their efforts on cleaning up the skies that darkened with MAW Forces above the Holy Quarter.

She nudged the flight stick to the left and framed an incoming squint perfectly. The box went red and a strident beep filled the cockpit. Brinna hit the trigger and the first torpedo sped in at its target.

Another torpedo streaked past her and raced toward an interceptor. Both of the imperial ships broke hard, but the shot that had streaked past her, from Green five, reduced their target to scrap metal and fire.

Brinna’s missile missed her target, so she switched back to lasers and evened her shields out.

<Good shot, five!> She encouraged over their comms. <Cover me, I’ve got to make this even.>

<Copy, two.>

Ratcheting the throttle up to full, Brinna swooped the X-wing up on its port stabilizers, then corkscrewed down through a roll that brought her out on the TIE’s tail. Linking her offside lasers so they fired two at a time, she triggered a burst that burned armour from the TIE’s wings but failed to destroy it.

<Shavit.> She hissed to herself.

The evil eyeball drifted to the left, then came up in a superspeedy roll that brought it around and over Brinna’s line of flight. If that continued, she’d overshoot again. In response, to prevent another useless shot from her, she pushed the flight stick to the left to make a wide turn to port that opened up distance from the TIE. The squint still managed to slip in behind her.

<I can’t get it, two.>

<I know five, I’ve..got this.> I’ve got this, she repeated to herself.

Keeping one eye on the rangefinder, Brinna kept her X-Wing on the long loop. Despite the protests from the R2 unit assigned to her. The opposing pilot came up fast, and flew in a straight line to close the point in space that she’d created. Good. Good.

Seeing her prey close in fast, Brinna centered and hauled back on her stick. Her turn tightened, and her body was jammed back in her seat. With a few more yanks and pulls of the flight stick, tracking the TIE now in a turn of fates, Brinna’s course was eventually reversed and replaced her scope with a red box in the targeting readout. With the TIE in her line of sight, she blew it apart with two laser blasts.

<Time’s ticking, two.> Five reminded, and the pair peeled away from the eruption and back to the course of the evac shuttles.

---

---

SABER ONE
X-02 SABER CLASS X-ING | FLIGHTSUIT | LIGHTSABRE
10/12 SABER SQUADRON

STARBREAKER​

<Revenant incoming?> Gold smiled through the comms, thumbing down on the trigger that saw another eruption of emerald belch from his cannons. <We’ll try and leave you something to do.>

The Jedi Ace wasn’t a particularly cocky fellow. The only reason he was alive was the generosity of The Force; but confidence in a shared mind was a necessity. His entire squadron, eleven lives, depended on him.

One of those lives — Saber Four — shouted through their comms: <Saber Seven - you’ve got a bogie on you!>

<Agh! I can’t shake it!>

<Fly straight, I’ll see if I can shoot it off you.>

The Jedi Knight couldn’t see the two ships trying to protect one another, all he could do was hear the exchange.

Within Saber Seven’s cockpit, the pilot looked around; unable to spot their aggressive hitchhiker. Something glared brightly nearby, so close that his starboard port burst.

<I got it!> Saber Four exclaimed happily.

<And me!> Saber Seven complained, looking out at their smoking wing.

<Just a scorch mar—> Saber Four’s negotiation was cut short. Oblivion consuming them and pulling them apart into a ball of fire.
Saber One steeled himself, tallying the number of Sabers still remaining in formation. One less.

<We’re hitting too much interference in here!> Someone, sounded like Saber Ten, barked into the comms. <We’ve got to pull back.>

<Not until these evac ships are out. That’s the mission.>

<Their repulsors are firing. They’re getting ready to go, we should too.>

Babble crossed through the broadcasted comms and delivered an update that there were still ten extraction vehicles left.

<I’m going in - I’ll provide a final distraction!> Saber Eleven, a Jedi Padawan,proclaimed. After a few seconds, he sounded full of regret: <My converter’s running wild!> This was an understatement. Every instrument on his control panels had abruptly gone berserk <Nevermind - I can hold her.>

<You’re too low!> Saber One boomed over the comes, watching the trajectory of the nascent Jedi from a quickly closing distance.

The instruments in the X-Wing weren’t providing proper information for Saber Eleven, and at the altitude, he was travelling the ship was simply prone to combustion. It collided gloriously with the ground, skidding and tearing through dirt and buildings already reduced to rubble from the earlier orbital bombardment.

Saber One looked away as fire peeled around the vessel, ensnaring remnant Maw marauders in its wake and...unfortunately..the pilot inside as well. Everyone could hear the painful cries over their comms before it cut out.

---

ALLIES | GA | NJO | Tren Chaar
ENEMIES | BOTM | Marlon Sularen | Tu'teggacha | pew pew pew

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: SIA Black Site //:
//: Halketh //:

Shall we face your fears together?​

Those words were the last she heard. His voice was lyrical almost, weaving and pulling her soul to dance for him. Allyson's mind was a durasteel trap, never letting anyone in or anything out. It had to be that way; she had to protect not only herself - but the people she worked for, ones that she loved and above all else herself.

His words finished, and Allyson felt outside of her body as if his words were a final blow. She stood in the middle of a dark room, no light, no sound - just darkness. Slowly, as she stood in the center of the room, a long-forgotten dungeon on Bastion began to form. The spy knew where she was, where those horrible words transported her. She was in a dark keep, locked against a table with a droid peeling the layers of flesh from her back. She could feel every incision, every tug of the muscle as it did its best to hold onto its protective skin. A memory more than fear as she relieved one of the worst moments of her life.

Allyson didn't cry in pain; she bore down, keeping silent as a figure circled her. There was no face, just a presence of darkness. As time continued, the wall across from where she was bound lit up with several holo feeds. Each screen looked into another's life from the outside. It's how Allyson lived, forever looking in on those that she cared about - never being a part of their lives, silently protecting. Allyson watched each screen as they came into focus. On one, a woman about her age, blonde, happily and awkwardly danced to herself. Cleaning a kitchen, where her last cooking attempt went awry. She paused, only enough for Allyson to see the x-wing pin hidden carefully beneath the lapel of her sweater. Something seemed to have caught the blonde's attention on the screen. Slowly she walked, and the screen began to flicker violently. Allyson watched, eyes widened, seeing and knowing what was going to happen. As the woman opened the door, the shadowed figure stood, and then the feed cut out.

She screamed.

"Tisk tisk." The hollowed voice spoke, dragging a long fingernail against the frantic woman's face. "Was painful. Nothing you could do about it." A decayed toothy grin. "How about another?" Allyson screamed against the gag as she pulled at the restraints; through the influence of the Force, she was forced to watch the subsequent few screens. Each one had sight into another's life again, this time three of the screens focused. One, a Zabrak quietly sitting in a small study. The room looked new, as did the books. She read, peacefully, a far cry from her previous life. On the second screen, an older Echani woman knelt behind a vast garden. Flowers grew almost as tall as her, the laughter of children filled the small chamber as a boy and a girl came running through to greet their mother. The woman, graceful and happy, played with the children who held onto toys they received as gifts from the woman's dearest friend. On the third screen, a younger Echani stood over an engine of a starfighter. Her body dipped nearly halfway into the bay where the engine was held. After a few moments, she stood straight, with grease streaked across her face. Like with the first vision, the three women had their attention caught by something. Each wandered curiously to the source, and the shadowed figure again greeted them as the screens cut out.

She screamed again.

"Oh? Where was the great Allyson Locke?" The shadow mocked her, its voice fluctuating between memories of enemies. "Nowhere to be found, failing like before." A bag of popcorn appeared in the arms of the shadows as it cackled. "Now, this is the grand finale, my favorite part." The screens flickered once more, fading away from the entire scene. Allyson stood in the middle of a home on Naboo, one she recognized. The decor was simple, but it's how they liked it. It was clean but lived in, and Allyson could smell the lingering smell of dinner calling her. Wandering slowly with caution, Allyson watched as a red-headed woman prepared food. Taiia quietly noticed her, already feeling the Corellian's presence. "You've been away for some time now. I bet you're hungry." Allyson nodded, wondering if this was part of the visions she had been seeing. "Are you real," she asked as she pulled out the barstool.

Taiia didn't answer or pay her anymore mind as she plated the food. Allyson relaxed, figuring she had just had a nightmare, nothing more to worry about. She reached for a plate, feeling the cool stone against her skin. This had to be authentic and not a vision. Was Jedha just a nightmare? She settled in and began to eat, listening to the Nabooian's day. Everything felt perfect until the doorbell rang.

A cold chill clutched at Allyson's spine as she looked towards the door. "I'll get it." Shaking her head, Allyson reached for Taiia as she finished and got up. "No, just leave it."

Taiia pulled away and kissed the spy's cheek. "You're tired and being silly; I'll get the door. It's probably just a package." She moved towards the door faster than Allyson could react. The door opened, and that same decaying grin greeted her. No. Getaway, Taiia! The words caught in her throat as she stepped towards the doorway. Getaway! Stop! No sound came from her as she now felt frozen where she stood, her feet becoming heavier than lead.

A red saber rose as Taiia stood with a smile greeting the figure. "NO!" Allyson shouted as the woman's body went limp, the blade cutting her down without a struggle. She screamed louder.

Standing, she screamed till her voice was hoarse. No one could hear her; no one would help her. The room stood still, and the figure stepped over the motionless body of what remained of Allyson's happiness. "And now, you're truly alone, no one to save the poor little shadow."

Allyson accepted the fate she was given. She didn't fight it anymore, for as much as she wanted to hold onto people - she pushed them away. They had always come to her aid, and yet she was never able to return the favor.

She never wanted to be alone, her greatest fear realized.

My love, don't give in to fear.
I am giving you all I can, but you have to face this on your own​

A voice whispered into her ear as a warmth swelled in her chest. The words of the code, one that she had sworn to live her life, protected her like a prayer. The Force bound her to those she was far from and brought others close to her. In the end, she indeed was never alone. Quietly, a small ethereal owlet fluttered to her shoulder, nuzzling carefully at her hairline. Words from her distant lover echoed calmly in her mind, extending the protection of the force through their bond.

Allyson's eyes snapped to focus; she felt her throat strain from the screaming. Away from her, the Sith intricately moved his hands, casting the spell of her fears. Coward, she thought quietly, and through the bolstered feeling of the Force, she fought through the pain of the injured arm and wove the Force light once more into a bow. "A Jedi never acts from hatred, anger, fear, or aggression," She spoke, and her body slowly relaxed into the power of the Force as the bowstring was drawn tautly. "But acts when calm and at peace with the Force." As she finished, the arrow fired, growing in size as its holy light burned towards the Dark Lord of the Sith, leaving nothing of darkness in its wake.

Spoiler

Loske Treicolt , Taiia Locke , Kat Decoria , Jyoti Nooran , Vaylin

 

[Darth Kentarch]

​

Location: Jedha near the SIA Blacksite
Allies: NSO/MAW | Maestus
Enemies: GA | Boluc Laar | Maijan Paisea

A series of explosions rocked the black site. Smoke, fire, and debris. Having disabled the charges surrounding the lab he currently occupied, Kentarch experienced nothing but a few moments of annoying tinnitus from the sudden loud explosions. Perhaps for some, the black site going up in flames would hinder them or place them in danger. Not for Kentarch. The smoky ruins only provided more cover, and likely disabled what security options were still available. Thus the Sith was able to slip through the ruined hallways of the backside without any opposition. Avoiding fumes and fire he managed to find his back to the storage room where he had cut a hole to slip through and slipped back out into the desert. He made no attempt to engage others or look back, a single headway towards some rocky outcroppings for cover.

A Simple in and out.

It had been just that, no confrontation, no one knew he had ever been then there. He was rather pleased the mission went this well. The black-cloaked figure simply vanished into the desert. Kentarch's ship extracted him, and in all the chaos his activities went unnoticed. He made the necessary contact arrangements over his communicator to drop off the sample. Mission accomplished. Kentarch checked the time and chuckled, he was running nearly twenty minutes late...

 

[Westenra Mina]

The Android's currently murderous heart sang with absolute glee as the arm of The Mongrel came off.

She paid no attention to his rebuttal. The piles of dead failure around him made any sound he made hollow. He was a slave, and he showed it in his every desperate tactic.

The sparking wires did not deter her, not even as he thrust them toward her stomach. Her design had a high resistance to electricity, greater or lesser depending on the current Configuration.

The configuration Lynda was constantly in had five times the durability of a regular human. Even so, she felt unpleasant pulses up her body as his sparking wires crashed into her damaged armor, flesh rippling disgustingly like rats were moving underneath everywhere as it absorbed the lethal energy, though parts of her skin smoked and burnt on her face, lesions bubbling up and issuing small dribbles of glowing red blood that smoked and burnt slightly. The kinetic impact, and the strength of it, knocked her backward though she landed on her feet, guarding, her flesh ceased rippling. He still had legs.

But she could solve that problem easily.

"Your gods are false. Even if they were real, your only true reward would be nothing but torture at their hands." she hissed inhumanly, as a few pieces of shrapnel from the bombing run passed through her abdomen, taking a few chunks from her stomach. She barely staggered, but otherwise gave no true reaction as the wounds started immediately regenerating.

"You are a fool to think you warrant any other treatment. Gods like that would have no need to give someone like you a paradise. But as mother says...there's a sucker born every minute."

Her databases glitched slightly, which threw off the speed of her attack giving The Mongrel a possible chance to dodge, but it would be very hard to as the Android rushed for his legs, swiping upward with both her blades in a deadly diagonal arc that even if she missed the legs entirely, might still have a chance of hitting his other arm and shearing off his chest armor...

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Location: Jedha City.
Objective: Bonk.
Tags: Viers Connory
Equipment:

Spoiler

Armour, Shield, Zaudraka, Bowcaster.

Viers was pulled forward, but rather than being bashed like waves against the rocks, she climbed on the shield like a monkey. This forced Joycelyn to make a split decision; she could either carry the weight or lower the shield. It was a decision made the very moment the woman impacted. Joycelyn turned her legs and brought the shield over her centre of gravity to bear Vier's weight.

Their blades clashed with force. Alchemised metal rang out against alchemised metal.

Viers used the bounce back from the clashing blades to throw a cut against Joycelyn's arm, but the situation quickly changed. Following the clashing of their blades, Joycelyn redirected the expended force from the bounce of their weapons, not to a new slash, but to a winding motion that was common in the martial arts of the epicanthix. As the shield raised, albeit with Viers on it, and the blade wound around to intercept the attack, the witchblade was redirected.

What could have been a mutilating blow raked across the norris-dyed fabric on her shoulder, then finally skipped off the cuirass with a flash of white sparks.

"You could not even touch her." she said quickly, taking no pauses.

But the giant was not done. Continuing the motion that kept Viers high up, Joycelyn lifted the shield over her head while stepping and pivoting under the cover of the metal flake with deceptive speed. Finally, what was the top of the shield dropped down in an attempt at flinging Viers to the ground. The sithsword chased the motion as an extra incentive; threatening to sever whatever limbs retained a grip on the shield.

It was clear that Viers was trying to bait Joycelyn into a rage, and it was working. However, the skull-faced monk did not seem to know what that rage would entail.

Another burst of flame roared out of the sith's bloodied mouth. This one was quicker, and while it spread less broadly than the circle of fire from before, it chased after Viers like a blanket of grasping hands made of red flame. A dark soot was beginning to form around Joycelyn's eyes and mouth, mingling with the blood. Within the soot there were cracks, glowing like molten rock. In her eyes was a glowing craze; part zeal, part rage, part vicious delight.

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

CHANCELLOR’S SUITE // CORUSCANT

ASSETS LIABILITIES: Rurik Fel

​

Tithe studied the Coruscant skyline, watching millions of shuttles and airspeeds glide along the perfectly ordered skylanes. Regardless of the time of day, there was always movement and activity on the ecumenopolis as beings went about their daily lives, largely unaware and unconcerned by matters of the greater galaxy.

The Chancellor’s own office was its own hive of activity. The Alliance’s premier holonet experts, dispatched by IVI , argued amongst themselves as they diagnosed the Iron Comlink. The technicians, versed in the latest and emerging technology, could find no reason why the device wasn’t working. Tithe’s senior chief of staff calmly reiterated that under the agreement with the New Imperial Order, an aide was to have the accompanying device near the Sovereign Imperator at all times, to facilitate uninterrupted dialogue between the two allied leaders.

“I fear our learned colleagues are correct,” Tithe announced, turning from the Coruscant skyline. His office had become increasingly populated over the past few hours between their efforts to contact the NIO and updated from the operation at Jedha. The latest report was that the evacuating was well progressed, but concerns remained about the ability of the joint GADF-NJO task force to hold the planet. The next few hours would be telling.

But the loss of one world would be infinitesimal should the Triumvirate collapse.

“Yes, yes, that’ll do.” The Chancellor figuratively waved away the SIA technicians. “And do keep me abreast of the situation at Jedha.” The GADF generals and admirals took their leave to report to high command. Once the office was vacant of all but his closest advisers, Tithe crossed to the other side of the room and poured himself a drink.

“I do believe it’s time we enlighten Fel as to the severity by which I view defaulting on a contract,” he explained to his senior chief of staff. “Summon Alliance One, we’ll depart within the hour.”

The time for politics and diplomacy was over. It was long past the point to view this as a squabble between nations. The Trivumerate was a business dealing, pure and simple.

It was time to remind Fel of that.