Invasion Crumbling Castle | NIO Invasion of TSE Held Gravlex Med and Ibanjii (Generis)

[Viera]

Objective: Capture the Temple, Subdue Any Sith
Location: Generis, Rakatan Temple -> Outside the Temple
Allies: NIO/GA - Viers Connory
Enemies: TSE - Darth Strosius (Engaging), Alina Tremiru (Engaging)

Chit.

Viera hissed in pain as she blinked repeatedly. Unlike her Sith opponent, the Thyrsian didn’t have a mask to stop the dust. A good amount had managed to hit her face, invasive particles that found their way beneath her eyelids. Each blink made the stinging worse, watering her eyes even more.

She resigned herself to keeping them closed, effectively blinding herself for now. Viera sighed, deactivating her lightsaber and taking a deep breath. The dust was still cloaking the area, keeping her concealed.

Not that she wasn’t aware her opponent would be able to sense her through the Force, but right now her options were limited. So, Viera reached into herself, into the Force.

I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me…

I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.​

Viera raised her free hand just in time, as a crimson blade came slicing down at her neck. For a second telekinesis held the Sith frozen in the air. And a second later gravity would do its work, but Viera wasn’t wasting even that amount of time.

She immediately brought her other hand forwards, hurling a burst of energy into the Sith’s stomach, pushing him backwards over the fallen rubble. But the Thyrsian wasn’t finished, as she immediately lurched forwards. In a move that mimicked Alisteri moments ago, Viera used the rubble as a springboard.

Her green blade flashed to life again as she swung down with an overhead strike, intending to sever the Sith’s fighting arm.

 

[Lucien Dooku]

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

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A chuckle escaped his lips. There was irony in him being held hostage, given the circumstances of how he met Auteme . "Oh how the tables have turned..." He mumbled to himself quietly, eyeing the edge of the lightsaber with an amused grin. He nodded along as she reassured herself that the situation was under her complete control. "Mhm." He confirmed off-handedly, smiling all the same despite the thought lingering in the back of his head that seeded the opposite.

Control was a loose term, to say the least. She had all the control in the world, if that's what she wanted to believe. Lucien had no intention of being hostile. In fact, he was beginning to feel amused by just how easily the woman seemed to be triggered by his teasing. She settled down after the momentary rise in emotions ended, and the lightsaber pointed at him was finally retracted away.

He tapped at his chin for a moment as he considered a response. "I ask myself that sometimes too." Luc shrugged. He knew it was hypocritical, but his life had never been nothing but nuanced. "I dunno-- maybe i'm the worst Jedi you'll ever meet, but I can't bring myself to hate the person for what their ideology has made them." He pointed at the lightsaber tucked between her crossed arms.

"I've got a family full of loyalists, some of them Sith Lords of the newly-branded Eternal. Maybe they hate me for stickin' to my Jedi ways. Hell, I get the same treatment already from enough of my fellow Jedi and Imperials already."

He sighed, drawing his eyes up to the ceiling with a waning in his smile. "I can't change who I am, and the bond we have is more important than where my allegiances stand. I'll do what I must with what i'm given, for those who I love."

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[Loske Treicolt]

WE ARE
OUTER RIM | GENERIS | OUTER RIM COMMUNICATION CENTRE
BODY/PRISON

​

Fully submerged, she was rolling in the depths of her own numbness now.

“Loske,”

Loske.

That wasn’t right. It sounded like a paracosm, something unreal and didn’t belong in this faux reality they’d constructed together; The kingdom that belonged to the shadow of a Jedi and the symbiote.

Penumbras in the rough shape of hands pressed over the Jedi’s ethereal eyesight, eclipsing her ability to connect to the name and all that was associated with it. Just before going blind, she thought she’d seen several layers of herself, her former face. When the fingers of the eternal blackness lifted, all she saw was...darkness. Her darkness.

The only glimpse of glitter was their union; their new self that stood proud atop her collapsed soul.

She made the obscene decision to do something unforgivable for the sake of survival. And now they wanted to be an abomination. It was what they deserved. What they earned.

Loske took the shape of a knife, and at the whim of that dark hand, sliced through the remnant of the broken vessel and shattered her into deeper, irredeemable oblivion.

That name wasn’t her anymore, that wasn’t who she was –– who they were–– maybe within, but that was dissolving quickly with the reshaping of her reflections. Her tongue pushed against her teeth, through the blood, as if she were trying to help a word take shape. It lived at the back of her throat, slowly forming into something usable.

Part of her had to perish so they could survive, together. As one.

It hadn’t been hard to let go –– not as hard as it had been to hold on to the fragments of the woman she’d been; an antithesis to the sentient Sith-born experiment. It was easy to let relief and power suffuse its way through and take over, imbuing her entirety with a strength untold.

“I won’t fight you, I won’t hurt you.”
“Please, come back to me. I...I need you.”

There was something in there, something visible on his emotional spectrum that marbled with his anxieties and fear. A hope, perhaps. But it looked gritty, dirty and possessive. It felt like teeth. They avoided it’s bite through denial.

In doing so, they realized that Djorn’s hope was born from guilt. That complex palette of colours bled into her vision, soaking through his frame and rendering him almost technicoloured

A toothy, gruesome grin spread across their lips, the black sinews rolling away from the edges of her mouth and exposing her humanity once more. Everything up from her clavicle was the face of the fallen Jedi.

“You need me…” They parroted, slowly, and took a non-threatening step forward. Her smile fell away to something listless, as if trying to understand what he was saying, as if the words were foreign and incomprehensible.

“To come back to you.” She reaffirmed, tracing the words delicately to feign trust with a voice less primal but still as though the words were layered.

But it wasn’t her job to empathize -- it was her duty to self and master to become something they’d never seen before. To destroy the enemy –– the ever-changing enemy. She remembered vaguely that the Sith had been the enemy at one time, but deep down, she’d always hated the New Imperials. The Alliance.

Everything they made her do, everything they took from her when all she did was give, and give, and give. Making her feel shame and heathenistic for wanting to turn and run, to start a life without strings.

“It’s just- it’s what we are. And if we all stood down and left...we wouldn’t be doing any good at all in the end. It’d be up to people who can’t handle it. It’d catch up to us.”

To come back to that? There was nothing there. Nothing she could remember other than the pale impression of her counterpart, the very man who’d denied her the opportunity to run. It was the reminder of Maynard who briefly made her wonder if memory was something she had or something she’d lost…. But this was not him, this was someone else. Someone else who wanted to rope her back in, to tie her down in need, necessity and obligation.

How dare he think she would respond to his plea of burden! To fold up everything she’d become in an instant of pained supplication. In a thin line, her lips quivered and ever-so-slightly, she shook her head to ward off the invitation as if it were as demonic as her exolayer.

Loske had died moments ago –– she wasn’t allowed to be reborn the same. To make the same mistakes. She’d died, and come back wrong; it was the price of resurrection.

The milky emptiness of her eyes flashed a warning, and she stepped forward again, stretching out a non-threatening hand. Like she was waiting for him to take it, to press their palms together in friendship and leave this place in harmony. To sell the act, the black sinews coating her palms and fingers receded up to her elbow, exposing the soft skin beneath.

Closing the distance between them, she touched the glove that concealed his bionic hand. Just above the blaster that was on the ground beneath. She was relieved to feel nothing at the contact, and she exhaled her stress out. Maybe he’d interpret it as her feeling safe. She did. She felt safe in her cocoon of darkness.

Quickly, partial memories float to the top of her melted mind. The beckon to read Eldaah’s mind, the shot to her abdomen, the….the...the other time was foggy, but she remembered him defending himself from her accusations of betrayal. He’d put her in a position to die more times than he’d offered her the chance to live.

“I wouldn’t betray you, you know,”

Math was not in Djorn’s favour.

"Thank you for your help, Djorn,"

He had to be removed from this new reality. Their new reality. A reality that might have been lonesome, but at least they had the power here to do what they wanted.

"I would rather not die, so fighting would be a good option for that. I don't know what is going on but I ain't escaping capture to just get killed by the Sith!"

If she had pupils and irises, they would have shifted in the direction of the outburst. A knowing, maybe sad smile curled her lips. Her head tilted in the spy's direction, their vibrosword still held at the ready.

She would bleed for better reasons than betrayal in this metamorphosis.

For now, the Twi’lek’s emotions were conflicted on the spectrum. Agitated, seeking loyalty and acceptance. The creature wasn’t sure if she’d strike or not, but with her proximity to the Imperial, she could easily throw him in front of her like a necessary meat shield.

“You need to save us to save you.” The creature had..no idea how close its vessel's parallels were to the late Bline Sr. Loske might not have even known in her full consciousness.

For a moment, they faltered, mouth wet in the pause to find the right words. There was a thickness at the back of her throat, falsifying the emotion of fear and consideration. The symbiote had witnessed enough of them from the vessel to know how to play this in unity, and there was a maliciousness in their mindscape that was born from Raaf’s retribution. Human hands slipped up to brace his exposed jawline, forcing them to look at one another again. Asking him to look at her, to really see.

become something the galaxy has never seen before.

Their eyes glittered as if they were about to cry. When they spoke, it was mostly her voice, like water coming out of a snapped pipe. It gushed and pulsed and gushed again.

“Who do you see? What would be coming back to you, Djorn?”

ALLIES | TSE | Taeli Raaf
ENEMIES | NIO | GA | NJO | Djorn Bline | Eira Dwynwen

 

[Violet Horne]

Allies: If you think I am going to tag all of y'all, ya crazy. Dagon Kaze
Enemies: Marcis Sorr
Objective: Embrace the Light

She was about to give chase, but Dagon yanked her with him out of the gas sphere.

Once they were 'safe' NotVeryViolet was about to circle around. They had an enemy to defeat. The evil was wounded, she could practically smell the sensation of burning skin from her spittle. Weak fragile mammals. They weren't much more than monkeys, so easily led astray towards the Dark and all its evils.

im right here, y'know.

NotAllThatViolet was about to growl in frustration, but then Dagon yanked her closer.

"Where. Is. She?" the padawan asked it.

It was there that this strange creature stilled. Still oozing spittle trickling down from the corner of her mouth. One hand still snapped, currently dangling at an angle it had no right to dangle. The blade (if you could call it that) was still phasing in and out, irregular beats like a heart on adrenaline.

"I am growing tired of this, Dagon Kaze." Verse responded. "Your emotions are a liability. You keep getting in my way, while I am trying to defeat evil." A slow blink as Verse tilted her head. "Perhaps I misjudged your commitment to the Light." oh no. Verse looked away from Dagon for a moment, uncaring that he was holding her so close. Instead she tried to pierce the smoke, behind which the evil was prowling presumably.

"Get. out. of. our. way." TheMostDefinitelyNotVerse mimicked his own cadence.

Out of nowhere blunt force of compressed air would move to smash into Dagon's chest, pushing him back into the smoke he had just saved them from.

"Now where are you, little assassin..."

She'd begin to move, circling around, the rapidly pulsing blade (still attached to her mangled hand) now dragging against the metal surface of the floor. It hissed, singing, as it warped the material underneath it.

 

[Darth Daiara]

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed

Spoiler: The Story

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

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The New Imperial Order had surged forth from its nest once more. No longer was it poised to strike back , strictly in defense of it life and those who lived beneath its banner. The game had changed the New Imperials into a vicious tiger that could challenge the galactic superpowers head-to-head, and once more it ventured forth into the territory of the Sith. A salient was desired to allow their forces to continue their onslaught against the tyrants of Dromund Kaas, and so the 173rd were requested to accompany the Imperator's armies once more.

He owed it to the people of Nirauan, if not the New Imperial Order itself. Though he'd never admit to Tavlar that he respected the man for what he'd done, Lucien had showed it through his actions-- most of the time, anyway. Generis would be no different from those others, despite the fact that he currently wasn't at the vanguard of a formation, or dropping down from the skies with his Legion.

The Myrmidons had been deployed onto the world en masse just hours before the invasion of the planet had commenced. His Captains and their respective companies scattered across the planet to tackle tertiary objectives elsewhere, typically the kind which left the rank-and-file dead to a man.

While his Legion were kept occupied with sowing havoc through the Sith's ranks, Lucien would assume a secondary command alongside the Galidraani Commanders at the head of the operation. Officially he should've been leading men towards the facility, but his fellow commanders seemed more than willing to do the hard work on their own.

And as it wasn't his Leigon being thrown at the facility, he chose to remain compliant at the rear lines and monitor the battle through his comms. For once he was alone, given the state that the battle of Dantooine had left his companions. More than half of them had been lost, while the other half were still in recovery. It was a decision that left him open, but Lucien had never encountered a Sith who proved an opportunist on the field of battle. Then again, he'd never been in the rear-lines either.

With a bit of luck and surprise, perhaps even he was in for a fun time.

Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel | @Warposters
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Objective 2: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


Aradia was done playing war games.

She was done with front lines and trenches and pleading. She had gone to Bastion a girl-- frightened and untested. She had walked away a little more refined-- A little wiser, a little quicker, a little better at holding her own. The jedi were unrelenting in their assults. She should thank them. In every loss was a lesson. Every break was chance to regrow stronger.

She sat braced inside of the station, no longer that girl with something to fear. There was no longer a master to fail. No longer an empire to serve.

Aradia had severed herself from everything. In that solidarity, she had found strength.

She heard the rhythmic fall of boots through the walls of the dark closet and knew what it meant. Infiltration. This station was a strategic command point. She had spent weeks studying the Imperials' habits. She knew they would utilize the war as a chance to overwhelm other more vulnerable points. The Imperials were always thinking forward. They were always laying down the foundation for their next attack. Aradia didn't delude herself, this wasn't stopping at Gravlex.

Stopping them from controlling this station could define so much.

She opened the maintenance room cupboard, her lean legs sliding out as she crept slowly to her feet. Like a spider. It was unlikely they could hear her from so far away, but she moved with caution regardless, her ears pricked for movement beyond the door.

Silence. Just her heart in her ears, erratic and distracting. She let out a heavy breath and let the door woosh open.

Could one person stop a war? She was prepared to find out.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

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It was easy to interpret his apathy, for an extreme lack of carelessness instead. He'd crossed plenty of battlefields by his lonesome before, but from his position near the Galidraani's rear lines there was an eerie sanguine to offset the combat in the distance. He could feel the violence permeating through the air, even from where he stood. It permeated through the air, carried by the winds of the force until it settled somewhere uncomfortably within his psyche. Lucien had forgotten the feeling of being on a battlefield alone, it seemed. He'd always maintained the company of his companions, relying on their presence just as much as they did his.

But Dantooine left his companions in shambles.

And the war effort continued on, leaving his men no time to mourn their fallen properly. His Legion dispersed where they were needed, and this time he was forced to watch them from afar. Reduced to receiving sitreps and delivering the occasional order, Lucien could only feel their struggle from afar. The malaise would eventually draw him back forth to the Brigade's Command Post, once more resuming his duties as the sole Commander on station whilst the Galidraani's were down range with the majority of their men. What few reserves were kept in the backlines were spread thin as it was, and to no surprise the same would ring true for the occupants of the primary headquarters as well.

He entered to a number of raised heads,, quickly waving off their salutes and allowing them to return to their posts. The understaffed HQ had an abundance of work, and a general lack of formalities was the typical way that he ran his own Legion. He lingered for only a few minutes, his attention returning to another incoming sitrep from one of his Legion's captains. It was a casualty report; only a few losses were sustained so far, but each man loss was a brother who couldn't be easily replaced.

Luc sighed audibly as he ascended up the stairs, cutting the link off and pulling the earbud out of his ear. He was heading for the rooftop to get a better view of the frontline, while also keeping close to their HQ in the off-chance that things went sour. He came to a brief halt upon reaching the top floor of the building, tilting his head in the direction of a room at the end of the hall.

He turned off the staircase briefly, but stopped in his tracks as his focus remained locked upon what was beneath that door. He projected his thoughts into the room, loosening the concealment that diminished his presence into the force. It was veritably a shot in the dark, or rather he could've been misinterpreting what he perceived through the force. "Could be nothing." He mused out loud, bringing his foot back onto the staircase and ascending up to the top.

"But it could be something." He continued, crossing through the doors on the rooftop and moving to the guard railing at the edge of the roof. The view provided him with a surprisingly clear picture of the situation at the front. Bodies were stacking up on both sides, but the Galidraanis were a group who were known to get the job done at all costs. He could do nothing but wait and see what the results would be., and if need be, intervene on his own accord.

But for now he'd continue doing the former, given the feeling, or rather the presence that he just moments before. It was an immediate concern for him to deal with, and if his senses were not deceiving him, potentially an opportunity to serve the New Imperial Order in a more direct way as well. With his presence no longer masked, Luc stood out amidst the sea of sentients who lacked any presence at all within the force.

The ball was moved into their court, ceding them the advantage, or so it seemed.



Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
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Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


The building was already lost.

It wasn't what Aradia was expecting, but she could sense it now. Countless imperial bodies controlled the sith facility, all inconsequential to her attentions.

Until one wasn't. She paused in the doorway, her head turning towards the signature that sang at the other end of the hall. Ice hit her veins, her throat tightening as she considered her options. She had come to keep this facility out of imperial hands, reclaiming this station alone was fool's job. She hissed in frustration, kicking the door jam.

She had spent weeks trying to outwit the imperials, and here she was, rendered as nothing more than a girl with backpack.

And that's why she brought back up plans. She shoved off the door jam, her pack bouncing against her back as she jogged after the force signature.

She unslung her pack, ignoring the siren of energy walking further away. It called to her-- the jedi taunted her, she could sense it. She did not bite, making further effort to smother out her spite as she pried open a door panel and jammed an electronic bug over the exposed wires. All her efforts to learn Mechu Deru and she could barely influence basic circuitry. That was fine, the driod would do the work for her. The jedi wanted to chill on the roof?

The door hissed, hydraulics releasing as the mechanisms that would open them fried.

He could stay there now.

A tinge of a desperation caught in her gut, her eyes tossing over her shoulder. How long would it take for him to realize she had trapped him? What good could she do in that time? She turned on her heels and ran away from the roof hatch. She skittered down the hall. A door stood open, exposing two white-booted feet resting atop a console.

Aradia slid in, the pin of a gas bomb resting in her hand. "Hello, boys."

The door closed behind her. She looked to the air vents overhead.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

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A smirk raised to his lips. A few moments passed before anything of interest had happened. The bait had not been took, and the intruder would instead elect to drawing the Jedi into an environment of their choosing. He expected the individual to come for his head, if the opportunity was given. Most of the Sith he'd encountered were generally of that mindset, but in hindsight it was a generalization that quickly proved to be false. This one was cunning, or at the least they were level-headed enough to not muster to the challenge that the Jedi had put forth.

They had even locked the Jedi onto the roof through means that weren't in his forte to comprehend. Annoying as it was, it would only deter him from getting into the building temporarily. Meanwhile there was chaos being sewn into the HQ beneath his feet. The intruder had released gas into the building, catching the occupants off-guard in many cases. Helmets were off against regulation, a common trait seen among the Stormtroopers at the rear, and with it their immunity to the gas being taken away in an instant.

Lungs filled with fire, just as their eyes began to well up from the burning sensation that blinded them completely. Pandemonium ensued in their wake, something which Lucien found rather interesting as he inserted the earbud in and regretted it immediately. He pressed a finger to his ear, muting their frantic calls in order to respond with one of his own.

<"All personnel inside the building, head out immediately. Regroup outside and rendezvous at the secondary HQ until this...threat has been dealt with.">

He stepped across the guard railing, resting his arms against the cold metal as he paused in his tracks with his eyes focused into the horizon. Something called to him-- someone whose presence was so familiar to him that it could not be avoided even if he wanted to in the first place. He reached out through the force, singling out the woman with a hand extending out towards the horizon, trailing a path through the sky. His hand shut into a fist, and with it a message being sent out through the winds of the force.

"Lyra."

Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt 's presence was unexpected. It took every ounce of discipline to not leap from the building and dash off into the direction he felt her presence in. A step forwards, and down the length of the building he went. "You're here...aren't you."

His descent was slowed by the force, and he touched the ground a few moments later without as much as scuffing his pants. A growing collection of Stormtroopers pooled on the outside of the building, waiting for the rest of their comrades to funnel out of the building. Luc walked ahead of the group, stepping past the retreating troopers and heading back into the building on his own. He was only spared from the burning properties of the gas through the application of controlling his breath with the use of the force involved.

He scanned the now deserted floor of the HQ, lowering his arms to his side but still not bothering to unclip the lightsaber hanging off his belt. He idled in the center of the room, leaving himself open once more in that nonchalant manner he carried himself.

Luc scanned the room once more, then sat himself down on a nearby chair with his feet being kicked up onto the console. "I'd thank you for not leaving any bodies, but I really don't get your angle, stranger." He called out to only other occupant of the now abandoned Command Post.

"...But how about we skip the games and chat face-to-face."




Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
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Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


Aradia dropped from the vent overhead, her lithe form landing without a sound. A rush of wind lashed out around her, dispersing the heavy gas that had collected like smog along the space. She straightened, the sharp features of her young face leveling to hold his gaze.

There was no mistaking her for what she was, the kiss of the darkside rippling off her form.

"Jedi."

Was her expressionless greeting, her mind reeling ahead. The most obvious step would be to just leave-- but then the imperials would retake the station and resume their war efforts unhindered. She didn't want to place herself in an unmovable situration. Up until the evacuation, it hadn't looked good. Her nostrils flared at the reminder of the risk, the girl desperate to maintain the upper hand.

She could handle one jedi, she told herself. Serving as a distraction would just have to do. She took a step to the side, arching towards the walls as she held his gaze.

"This isn't your station."

Like that had ever stopped them before.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

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Luc smirked at the woman, spinning around in the chair to face the direction of the voice that followed her appearance into the room. He leaned back into his palms, his fingers having laced comfortably on the back of his head. "Well, yeah, you're right about that." Luc shot back, tilting his eyes towards the woman. "...But I guess no is accurate as well~" The words followed through an exaggerated yawn, his lips curling right back into a smirk once it was finished.

Despite revealing herself to Lucien, he made no overtly move to display the hostility that should've existed between existential enemies within the force. Instead his eyes followed the woman's movements lazily, watching her intently as she moved towards the wall, maintaining a safe distance between herself and the Jedi sitting comfortably at the console.

A moment of silence filled the void.

He sucked on his teeth, breaking the tension by letting loose an audible breath of air. He swung his legs down from the console, pushing himself up to his feet. Luc crossed his arms over his chest, taking a brazen step towards the center of the room, his eyes still locked upon the dangerous woman across from him. "It seems as if you've got me cornered-- assuming that's your intent. But i'm a little surprised that your superiors elected to send just you into the heart of the enemy's camp."

He chuckled, pulling his arms apart and giving the woman an exaggerated shrug. "If it was me in your shoes, I would've killed everyone in this room while the Jedi was stuck on the roof and unaware of the situation. Seems very... uncharacteristic of one of your ilk-- but don't get me wrong, i'm not complaining."

Luc's visage dropped into a cold stare for a moment. "Setting aside those corrupted eyes and that pretty face, though-" His hands dropped down to his sides, but still his weapon remained out of reach of his hand. "I'd rather we take this outside-- but the ball's in your court, sweetheart."

Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
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Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


"Setting aside those corrupted eyes--"

Aradia's hand twitch towards her face, stopped short and then redirected to tuck a fly away behind her ear. Her eyes weren't that corrupted. Just specks of gold starting to faintly circle a sea of blue.

Right?

Her gaze gaze on her reflection on the screen, her throat bobbing as his approach snapped her attention back to him. She held her ground, the weight of her saber a comfort as she took another arcing step towards the wall. Every step forward he would take would be matched with one of her own, the girl making a slow but obvious movement around the wall.

"Well, that's what makes us different." she started, her tone matter of fact. She could feel the coying tease that dripped off his words, not unlike a cat lazily playing with its mouse. He spoke of being trapped, but for a moment she questioned just which of them was they prey.

Goosebumps riddled her arms.

"Unlike you, I don't kill just because I can." She reached up, yanking the exposed circuitry from a panel she had set up while waiting for his arrival. His senses were correct. This was a trap.

Every door in the building slammed down, tons of steel closing off and locking. The evacuated storm troopers wouldn't be able to come to his aid even if they had orders to. The only way this station was opening was if one of them let it.

"I kill when I have to." Her saber snapped to her hand, the red length hissing to life.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

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Lucien stepped forwards once more, trailing her own gait with a slow saunter of his own, all the while ensuring his eyes would never leave her sight in case she decided to put her cunning to use. Brazen as he was, it was clear that not a hint of fear lingered beneath his playful gaze. Even as the building entered lockdown, separating the two individuals from the outside world as a whole.

His attention only briefly shifted upon the activation of the trap, his head tilting away for just long enough to view the display as it happened. His lips curled even further, a devilish grin taking its place upon his face as he refocused his eyes back onto Aradia.

Another step curved inwards towards the woman, and he continued on the path that brought him closer to the woman's bubble. He raised a eyebrow by the time the last few words had exited his lips. "Interesting to hear you say that." Luc commented, a thumb being nonchalantly jabbed in the direction of the plasmatic weapon that now hissed to life within her hands. "See I thought that you Sith were pretty uniform in your desire to kill for the sake of pleasure, power and all that other good stuff that comes with your ideology~"

His shoulders jerked upwards with a shrug, falling back down to normal in unison with his hands entering the comfort of his jacket pockets. Again he continued forwards, moving ever so closer to the woman, seemingly unfazed by the sight of the lightsaber she now wielded. His own weapon remained clipped to his belt, lazily swinging with his movements, tapping against his pants.

"Oh don't tell me--" Luc leaned forwards, centering his gaze onto her at a distance which now proved rather dangerous if her desire was to remove his head. "...You're different, huh."

He chuckled, straightening himself out and finishing with a final step that left him rather exposed, given the circumstances. "I'm not like the other Jedi either, y'know. I'm sure we could reach some common ground, especially since you've up and decided to lock yourself in here with me." He winked at her playfully. "You've got a name, or do you want me to just keep callin' you Sith."


Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


The saber was held steady, its intense heat threating to undo his clothing with each step closer he took. She did not lower it. He could impale himself where he stood for all she cared.

Aradia had seen far more frightening things than him.

"You've got a name, or do you want me to just keep callin' you Sith."

She cocked a brow. "Well, that's what I am." She quipped evenly, not taking the bait as he played games with her character. She raised her chin, unaffected by what he thought of her. It wouldn't change anything, anyway.

"You look like all the others to me." She gave the wires another hard yank, electricity shooting out from the panel. It was without a doubt fried. "Ignorant." She took a step to the right, her legs crossing like figure eights. The next panel was already exposed, a spider droid stuck over it.

"Cocky."

Another step, the saber insuring the jedi remain at length at every moment. She knew her weak spots. Her heart pounded in her chest, old lessons still fresh. She'd be keeping her guard up.

"Out for blood. Remind me again, how that makes Jedi so different from my peers."

Keep him talking. Her eyes scanned him over, features softening to contempt. "Maybe that's what I call you then. Sith." Her back hit the other wall, the droid tangling in her orange locks.

"I mean, when the name fits."

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Lyra's words slipped into his mind as clear as if she had whispered the words into his own ear. Even as he and the Sith in front of his eyes engaged in a war of words between their stand-off, he could feel the presence of Lyra as if she was with him in the real. Her aura lingered around him, or so it seemed to him in those few moments their connection was at its peak. She was so close that he could feel the blood rising within his veins, beckoning him to draw his weapon upon his enemy and take to the frontlines to find her once more. To confront her and ask those questions that were now long overdue, and perhaps too late.

He could feel her pain, the unrelenting series of emotions that fueled the corruption which brought her upon this world as a Sith. They surged through him just as rapid as they came, fueling the benevolent rage which lingered beneath the impassive visage being given to the world. Anger fueled him more than anything else; a growing desire to reap vengeance upon the Sith ten times over for what they had done to her-- to her family. Months prior he would have fell to this instinct, and acted upon the emotions that gave him the strength where the force could not. He would not have hesitated to draw his weapon upon Aradia, and do what must be done to keep moving forwards.

Always forwards, towards someone or something that he could save.

But the weight of the world could not be balanced upon his shoulders alone. Dantooine, Korriban and Ziost could attest to that. He would save her-- that would never change. It was a promise that he fully intended to keep, even if he'd retracted it openly during his meeting with Nima Appw'rii . It didn't matter if she was Sith or still the same woman who served the Imperials. She could've abandoned everything and took to a quiet life away from the chaos and he'd still feel the same way regardless. In the end, she was Lyra-- not some Sith, or a woman who faced being too far gone into the corruption of the dark side to see things reasonably with her own eyes.

"I was blind before--ignorant to the truth."

It was unconditional. That is, whatever it was that bound them together. The emotions, or maybe the connection. For a Jedi who sat far too comfortably next to the thin line of the dark, it was a dangerous thing to possess.

But the consequences be damned as far as Luc was concerned.

"I won't let you go."

Luc shut his eyes, exhaling a breath as Aradia finished berating him for his antics. In a sense the woman did have a point, despite the invalidity of a few of her claims. He definitely was a cocky bastard, albeit not as much after the wonderful lesson in hubris that came with engaging multiple Dark Lords in a relatively quick succession. Ignorance was also a claim he couldn't necessarily begin to refute. There had been so much he was unaware of before embracing his Imperial heritage, and seeing first-hand how the galaxy ebbed and flowed internally through the actions -- or inaction -- of its strongest nations.

And bloodthirsty wasn't too far off from the money either. He wasn't ashamed of it-- his own dark passenger that existed alongside the goodness within. The war against the Sith had carved him into a warrior, and one who felt truly alive during the heat of battle. He became a demon within the eyes of the pawns the Sith threw his direction, always the spear who fought at the vanguard of every conflict. Conflict and death no longer were given a second thought, nor did he consider the effects that nonstop war were having on his psyche.

It just was what it was.

Which made her final point all the more intriguing.



He opened his eyes as the accusation came to past, looking past the woman's eyes in an attempt to see through the anger that shielded what was beneath.

"Perhaps you're right."

He offered in response, shrugging at her once more. Luc unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, bending down partially as he rolled the weapon in her direction. He backpedaled away from the woman, coming to a stop right before the back of his legs hit the chair seated at the console. Down he went, seating himself while he weapon remained a far enough distance away to put him at a clear disadvantage this time. As foolish as it was, Luc didn't possess the desire to shed the woman's blood. Something about her eyes had reminded him of the woman whose presence kept his mind partially occupied within the force.

She had not even slaughtered any of his men, even when the opportunity had been present. Truthfully she gave him no reason to kill her, and being a Sith was no longer enough reason for him to consider ending one's life. Not if he wished to save the one person whose fall into the dark could be prevented.

Luc leaned against the chair, blue-grey orbs continuously piercing their way across the room to meet the woman's gaze. He blinked eventually, leaning upwards into the chair, balancing his elbows against his knees. "You can call me what you want, but my friends call me Luc. I think it has a better ring to it than just Sith." Luc broke the tension. "I'll be honest-- I don't really have the muse to play the whole game of "existential enemies, therefore we must fight." There's someone out there that I care about-- and just like you, she's got some pretty eyes that have seen better days. Just like I can see you in front of me right now, I can feel her presence just as vividly. But since I'm stuck in here with you, our reunion will have to wait. So tell me, what will it be? I've got this hunch that you're not too far gone as of yet, and I wouldn't be a man if I didn't follow my gut from time to time."

He pointed to a nearby chair, then traced the tip of his finger towards her lightsaber.

"The choice is yours."
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


"You're not going to convert me," came the dry assertation. "And I'm not letting you out of here." Her chin rose brazenly to the blunt claim. "Not until this world quiets and your men leave these gates."

Even then, shouldn't she take him in? Or wouldn't it be wiser to simply kill him. His death would be one less jedi to populate the fields at the next world. Every dent in the Imperials resources were vital for people like her. She knew what her Master would say; the corruption inside of her itched for her to sink in and-- Zaavik Dagoth 's smug look flickered to her then, earning a flinch. She shook her head, driving the hunger and his eyes from her mind.

"I don't care what you think." Tendrils of the force wrapped around his saber, whipping it into her palm.

"I am sith." She crossed her arms over herself, burying his saber into her robes in the process. Her lithe form spilled into the seat, her relax posture betrayed by the wild look to her eyes. She kept constant track of the room and the screens, her life balancing on the fickle decision of the jedi to sit down. Behind the anger, there was loss. A loss of self, a loss of others. They had all lost things on the battlefield. She was young. She wasn't letting him get the better of her.

She sat up straighter, adrenaline driving her spine rigid. Keep him talking.

"So, what-- you're dating one of us? Is this a prelude to a dinner, or-- I can't image you'll find a restaurant serving after this." An edge of mocking laughter coated her words, the girl not sitting still.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

His shoulders relaxed even further, the last bit of tension dissolving from his already lax form. He waved a hand in her direction dismissively, that same hand then having the side of his face resting within his palm just a moment later. "I'm not in the business of converting Sith." Or at least that usually was the case, he thought, considering the other woman who came to mind. "...And I already figured that we were stuck in here together."

The keyword being together in that final response. Though he watched as she took his lightsaber as her own, the defenseless Jedi was still not visibly concerned regarding the tactical advantage his enemy now held over him. His confidence rarely waned in the darkest of times, and despite being locked in a building with a Sith, it wasn't as bleak as his encounters with a Sith'ari.

In fact it proved the opposite of bleak, given the circumstances involved. She continued speaking, dishing back to him a handful of attitude in the process. He grinned in return, not phased by the mocking laughter that followed her words. "She's.." He trailed off, dipping his head slightly in thought. He was thinking of the right way to word their relationship, but Luc had never put too much thought into it.

She was an attractive woman-- definitely up his alley, if he were being honest. But she was also someone who he considered a genuine friend. Someone he looked up to, learned from, and wanted nothing more than to see them happy.

His head tilted back towards the woman, still smiling softly. "...Kinda like family, I suppose. I don't think our reunion would've involved dinner, though. I'd be lucky to come out of it without a broken nose-- or worse." He chuckled. "She's a fierce woman, but I wouldn't trade her for anything."

"But what about you, hmm? From one hot-head to another, you're jut seething with anger-- I can feel it." He stretched his arms upwards, letting out a yawn now that he was content with chilling where he was. "..and you still haven't told me your name; a bit rude for a first date, don'tcha think?" Luc finished with a wink, chuckling in a similar fashion as she did earlier, minus the mocking. ​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


"This isn't a date. I'm holding you hostage!" She exploded, a wave of indignation emanating from her form. The saber that had been held almost lackadaisically snapped back to position in front of her, the girl making a show of jabbing it way in a an unspoken point.

"I have complete control of this facility. Your men aren't getting in without damaging its systems, which is the opposite of what you want. I am the only one that can unjam the locks to let you out. You're trapped. You don't even have a weapon, you only have-- hair," she gestured wildly, her expression pulling into an awkward grimace at her final word.

Well. He did!

She leaned forward, still unable to keep still as she switched the elbows she leaned against multiple times. "I'm not angry, I'm--... ... pissed," she grumbled, rolling her eyes slightly as she ate her own words. She pursed her lips, her expression narrowing at the jedi that sat there with far too much confidence given his situration.

Didn't he know how bad he was in for right now? Keep him talking.

She closed the saber and crossed her arms fully, leaning back. "How can you love a sith and then go on to condemn them, it doesn't make sense."

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

A chuckle escaped his lips. There was irony in him being held hostage, given the circumstances of how he met Auteme . "Oh how the tables have turned..." He mumbled to himself quietly, eyeing the edge of the lightsaber with an amused grin. He nodded along as she reassured herself that the situation was under her complete control. "Mhm." He confirmed off-handedly, smiling all the same despite the thought lingering in the back of his head that seeded the opposite.

Control was a loose term, to say the least. She had all the control in the world, if that's what she wanted to believe. Lucien had no intention of being hostile. In fact, he was beginning to feel amused by just how easily the woman seemed to be triggered by his teasing. She settled down after the momentary rise in emotions ended, and the lightsaber pointed at him was finally retracted away.

He tapped at his chin for a moment as he considered a response. "I ask myself that sometimes too." Luc shrugged. He knew it was hypocritical, but his life had never been nothing but nuanced. "I dunno-- maybe i'm the worst Jedi you'll ever meet, but I can't bring myself to hate the person for what their ideology has made them." He pointed at the lightsaber tucked between her crossed arms.

"I've got a family full of loyalists, some of them Sith Lords of the newly-branded Eternal. Maybe they hate me for stickin' to my Jedi ways. Hell, I get the same treatment already from enough of my fellow Jedi and Imperials already."

He sighed, drawing his eyes up to the ceiling with a waning in his smile. "I can't change who I am, and the bond we have is more important than where my allegiances stand. I'll do what I must with what i'm given, for those who I love."

​

​

Aradia's brows pulled in, her squirming dying off as she studied the Jedi that spoke unbashedly about his flaws. Her confusion grew thicker, the girl trying to puzzle out the enigma that sat before her.

"You're right," she finally concluded, bursting out of her seat. "You're not like the others, you admit you don't make sense." She left him, pacing back to the screens to check the systems. Everything was unchanged, the storm troopers beyond still following the jedi's order to let him handle this. How long would that hold until they started to suspect this Luc didn't have everything at hand?

And what would they do then? Her gut coiled tight with stress, worsening the itch she had shoved to the side. She didn't need it right now. Right?

As much as she liked to remind him she had control in this moment, it was tenuous. She almost preferred Jedi to yell at her and try to kill her, because that at least she could see through. His calmness, though?

She tossed him a sideways glance, her expression guarded. "...What do you know that I don't?" She asked slowly, a sense of paranoia creeping through her. She took a step towards him, the heels of her boots making a subtle click on the floor. She shot a final look at the screen, nothing appearing off, before leaving it to approach him with slow, meticulous steps.

"Are you hiding something?" She bounced her saber off the meat of her thigh rhythmically, continuing to consider him.

 

[Arctus Silmar]

The Shaper

The Iron Crown|| Whilstone of Prowess|| Whilstone of Acuity
Whilstone of Power|| Acharn|| Urfael|| Mithralian
Voice Sample

As the Fool King deflected Acharn away The Shaper was simultaneously unsurprised and yet also caught rather off-guard by just what he did it with. The Shaper made no effort to prevent the spear from falling, he would always know where it was should he need it, rather he could not help but retort to the child playing at royalty before him. Urfael angling to intercept and slice clean through the ancient grating as he admonished Enlil "And you, it seems Monkey King, are beneath even using a real weapon. Swing your stick at me all you wish." A mocking smirk overtook The Shaper's features beneath the mask of his armor as he taunted "I do so await the day you learn how to sharpen a rock."

The Shaper felt his disdain for Enlil growing with each passing second. One would think, no, hope that one who bore the visage of a ruler of millions would at least have the foresight and wherewithal to enhance his weapon with the Force but Enlil had made no such effort. He had, effectively, swung at a fully armored Sith Lord with nothing but an old, metal pipe. It was.... underwhelming. As The Shaper began to speak again his power in the Force extended down to Acharn's tumbling form, catching it in the air, before launching it back up to strike at Enlil from below. The Shaper's words naught but a distraction for the blustering buffoon. "In truth, I am HIGHLY disappointed in what I have seen of you and your comrades. From the two fools I faced on Dantooine and now...... this."

It was at this moment Acharn would smash and pierce it's way through the floor of the grating below Enlil's feet, spraying ancient metal in all directions as shrapnel, which The Shaper was more than prepared for to catch telekinetically the pieces that would have come in his direction. Striking directly after Acharn's second attempt at skewering Enlil The Shaper would send the jagged metal pieces forward at Enlil's torso with a thrust of Urfael's blade toward the Fool King. Aiming to avoid what his ancient senses could easily tell were modestly enhanced armaments meant to protect himself, with the hideously glaring flaw of leaving Enlil's body exposed.

These pieces of shrapnel were joined by a channeling of Cryokinesis toward Enlil, attempting to sap the heat he was so fond of from his body, causing the runes along the ancient blade to shift color to a potent, shimmering blue. This wave of heat-sapping cold also extended to the piecs of shrapnel hurdling towards Enlil, causing their temperature to drop to drastically below freezing, making them more fragile and, subsequently, more likely to shatter into more shrapnel should he feel so inclined as to block them again. The Shaper was highly doubtful Enlil's straight-forward approach to combat would see him through this combination of attacks unscathed.

Allies: TSE and Friends

Enemies: NIO, GA and Assorted Others

Engaging: Enlil

 

[Lucien Dooku]

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Through his interactions with Aradia, Lucien had realized that his interactions with the Sith until then had been in a much more limited capacity. Whether it was on the battlefield or during the inception of the New Imperial Order, his vision of the Sith was a far-cry from the individual who now paced back and forth to his front. Once more he shrugged at her response, not even bothering to reply towards the comment about him being different.

Luc knew he was different, whether it was through his heritage or the company he preferred to keep in comparison to his peers. The youngest of the Imperial Warlords possessed the influence that more prominent Imperials had done evil to attain, all the while maintaining most of the principles he had from the start. Well most of them, anyway. Nobody goes into a war as a boy and comes out of it with the same values as before.

So when she questioned him in paranoia, confused by his characteristic sanguine in the presence of a dangerous element, it was merely a reflection of what the boy had became. Luc was a man forged through the fires of war, in possession of a soul that had been tempered through strife and the ideology of Imperial defiance. He'd faced death in the face and survived, resisting the temptation of the dark in spite of the forces that be seemingly guiding him into its direction.

By comparison to his past experiences, his current predicament was metaphorically nothing but a walk in the park. A breather even, from the chaos of warfare going on outside their little bubble.

He shook his head, focusing his gaze upon her eyess with a somber grin curled onto his lips. "Battle plans, Order-of-Battle, classified information.. quite a bit, I'd guess." His response came as lax as the rest. "My full name is Lucien Dooku, Prince and Claimant of the throne of Serenno, Warlord of Nirauan Province, and a Knight of the New Jedi Order." He let out a laugh, picking up on the authority in his tone. "But uhh-- that's a mouthful. Am I hiding somethin' ? Anything? Not particularly. You haven't actually asked me anything in specific. Granted, I'm still liable to say no, but at the least i'm being honest."

Leaning back in his chair once again, Luc checked the monitors off-handedly, scanning his eyes across the screen before resettling them onto Aradia. "It's just me and you, woman. Still haven't told me your name though."​

​

 

[Enlil]

THE KING'S GAMBIT
Through Fire and Flames

​

The King's gambit had succeeded.

Where his opponent spread himself thin, Enlil had focused his attention on drawing the Sith in. He let the King approach, and even brought him in to the point where he believed him entrapped. When his weapon was stopped, the King's lips twisted into a savage smile as his true purpose unfolded.

The heat ripped outward from the King's own body, which had been drinking in the hellscape of the room since he entered. Originally intended to send the Crucifixion thermonuclear with the power of his god, when the opportunity had presented itself, the King needed only to create the perfect time.

When the Sith expressed his disappointment, the King had only two words for him. "Then burn."

Moisture evaporated on his flesh as flames vented from his pores, his body steaming. The world erupted around him, the tempest melting metal and warping the catwalk, licking all the way to the Catalyst below.

They were falling in an instant. The ground beneath them had dematerialized in the King's fire, incinerated. The bar, the Sith himself, anything else: all tools in the ancient monarchs twisted plot. The Shaper would be caught in fire easily able to melt through Beskar.

The two were not the same. This man thought himself important.

He was just a pawn.

Arctus Silmar​

 

[Darth Daiara]

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed

Spoiler: The Story

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

The New Imperial Order had surged forth from its nest once more. No longer was it poised to strike back , strictly in defense of it life and those who lived beneath its banner. The game had changed the New Imperials into a vicious tiger that could challenge the galactic superpowers head-to-head, and once more it ventured forth into the territory of the Sith. A salient was desired to allow their forces to continue their onslaught against the tyrants of Dromund Kaas, and so the 173rd were requested to accompany the Imperator's armies once more.

He owed it to the people of Nirauan, if not the New Imperial Order itself. Though he'd never admit to Tavlar that he respected the man for what he'd done, Lucien had showed it through his actions-- most of the time, anyway. Generis would be no different from those others, despite the fact that he currently wasn't at the vanguard of a formation, or dropping down from the skies with his Legion.

The Myrmidons had been deployed onto the world en masse just hours before the invasion of the planet had commenced. His Captains and their respective companies scattered across the planet to tackle tertiary objectives elsewhere, typically the kind which left the rank-and-file dead to a man.

While his Legion were kept occupied with sowing havoc through the Sith's ranks, Lucien would assume a secondary command alongside the Galidraani Commanders at the head of the operation. Officially he should've been leading men towards the facility, but his fellow commanders seemed more than willing to do the hard work on their own.

And as it wasn't his Leigon being thrown at the facility, he chose to remain compliant at the rear lines and monitor the battle through his comms. For once he was alone, given the state that the battle of Dantooine had left his companions. More than half of them had been lost, while the other half were still in recovery. It was a decision that left him open, but Lucien had never encountered a Sith who proved an opportunist on the field of battle. Then again, he'd never been in the rear-lines either.

With a bit of luck and surprise, perhaps even he was in for a fun time.

Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel | @Warposters
​

​

Objective 2: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


Aradia was done playing war games.

She was done with front lines and trenches and pleading. She had gone to Bastion a girl-- frightened and untested. She had walked away a little more refined-- A little wiser, a little quicker, a little better at holding her own. The jedi were unrelenting in their assults. She should thank them. In every loss was a lesson. Every break was chance to regrow stronger.

She sat braced inside of the station, no longer that girl with something to fear. There was no longer a master to fail. No longer an empire to serve.

Aradia had severed herself from everything. In that solidarity, she had found strength.

She heard the rhythmic fall of boots through the walls of the dark closet and knew what it meant. Infiltration. This station was a strategic command point. She had spent weeks studying the Imperials' habits. She knew they would utilize the war as a chance to overwhelm other more vulnerable points. The Imperials were always thinking forward. They were always laying down the foundation for their next attack. Aradia didn't delude herself, this wasn't stopping at Gravlex.

Stopping them from controlling this station could define so much.

She opened the maintenance room cupboard, her lean legs sliding out as she crept slowly to her feet. Like a spider. It was unlikely they could hear her from so far away, but she moved with caution regardless, her ears pricked for movement beyond the door.

Silence. Just her heart in her ears, erratic and distracting. She let out a heavy breath and let the door woosh open.

Could one person stop a war? She was prepared to find out.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

It was easy to interpret his apathy, for an extreme lack of carelessness instead. He'd crossed plenty of battlefields by his lonesome before, but from his position near the Galidraani's rear lines there was an eerie sanguine to offset the combat in the distance. He could feel the violence permeating through the air, even from where he stood. It permeated through the air, carried by the winds of the force until it settled somewhere uncomfortably within his psyche. Lucien had forgotten the feeling of being on a battlefield alone, it seemed. He'd always maintained the company of his companions, relying on their presence just as much as they did his.

But Dantooine left his companions in shambles.

And the war effort continued on, leaving his men no time to mourn their fallen properly. His Legion dispersed where they were needed, and this time he was forced to watch them from afar. Reduced to receiving sitreps and delivering the occasional order, Lucien could only feel their struggle from afar. The malaise would eventually draw him back forth to the Brigade's Command Post, once more resuming his duties as the sole Commander on station whilst the Galidraani's were down range with the majority of their men. What few reserves were kept in the backlines were spread thin as it was, and to no surprise the same would ring true for the occupants of the primary headquarters as well.

He entered to a number of raised heads,, quickly waving off their salutes and allowing them to return to their posts. The understaffed HQ had an abundance of work, and a general lack of formalities was the typical way that he ran his own Legion. He lingered for only a few minutes, his attention returning to another incoming sitrep from one of his Legion's captains. It was a casualty report; only a few losses were sustained so far, but each man loss was a brother who couldn't be easily replaced.

Luc sighed audibly as he ascended up the stairs, cutting the link off and pulling the earbud out of his ear. He was heading for the rooftop to get a better view of the frontline, while also keeping close to their HQ in the off-chance that things went sour. He came to a brief halt upon reaching the top floor of the building, tilting his head in the direction of a room at the end of the hall.

He turned off the staircase briefly, but stopped in his tracks as his focus remained locked upon what was beneath that door. He projected his thoughts into the room, loosening the concealment that diminished his presence into the force. It was veritably a shot in the dark, or rather he could've been misinterpreting what he perceived through the force. "Could be nothing." He mused out loud, bringing his foot back onto the staircase and ascending up to the top.

"But it could be something." He continued, crossing through the doors on the rooftop and moving to the guard railing at the edge of the roof. The view provided him with a surprisingly clear picture of the situation at the front. Bodies were stacking up on both sides, but the Galidraanis were a group who were known to get the job done at all costs. He could do nothing but wait and see what the results would be., and if need be, intervene on his own accord.

But for now he'd continue doing the former, given the feeling, or rather the presence that he just moments before. It was an immediate concern for him to deal with, and if his senses were not deceiving him, potentially an opportunity to serve the New Imperial Order in a more direct way as well. With his presence no longer masked, Luc stood out amidst the sea of sentients who lacked any presence at all within the force.

The ball was moved into their court, ceding them the advantage, or so it seemed.



Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


The building was already lost.

It wasn't what Aradia was expecting, but she could sense it now. Countless imperial bodies controlled the sith facility, all inconsequential to her attentions.

Until one wasn't. She paused in the doorway, her head turning towards the signature that sang at the other end of the hall. Ice hit her veins, her throat tightening as she considered her options. She had come to keep this facility out of imperial hands, reclaiming this station alone was fool's job. She hissed in frustration, kicking the door jam.

She had spent weeks trying to outwit the imperials, and here she was, rendered as nothing more than a girl with backpack.

And that's why she brought back up plans. She shoved off the door jam, her pack bouncing against her back as she jogged after the force signature.

She unslung her pack, ignoring the siren of energy walking further away. It called to her-- the jedi taunted her, she could sense it. She did not bite, making further effort to smother out her spite as she pried open a door panel and jammed an electronic bug over the exposed wires. All her efforts to learn Mechu Deru and she could barely influence basic circuitry. That was fine, the driod would do the work for her. The jedi wanted to chill on the roof?

The door hissed, hydraulics releasing as the mechanisms that would open them fried.

He could stay there now.

A tinge of a desperation caught in her gut, her eyes tossing over her shoulder. How long would it take for him to realize she had trapped him? What good could she do in that time? She turned on her heels and ran away from the roof hatch. She skittered down the hall. A door stood open, exposing two white-booted feet resting atop a console.

Aradia slid in, the pin of a gas bomb resting in her hand. "Hello, boys."

The door closed behind her. She looked to the air vents overhead.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

A smirk raised to his lips. A few moments passed before anything of interest had happened. The bait had not been took, and the intruder would instead elect to drawing the Jedi into an environment of their choosing. He expected the individual to come for his head, if the opportunity was given. Most of the Sith he'd encountered were generally of that mindset, but in hindsight it was a generalization that quickly proved to be false. This one was cunning, or at the least they were level-headed enough to not muster to the challenge that the Jedi had put forth.

They had even locked the Jedi onto the roof through means that weren't in his forte to comprehend. Annoying as it was, it would only deter him from getting into the building temporarily. Meanwhile there was chaos being sewn into the HQ beneath his feet. The intruder had released gas into the building, catching the occupants off-guard in many cases. Helmets were off against regulation, a common trait seen among the Stormtroopers at the rear, and with it their immunity to the gas being taken away in an instant.

Lungs filled with fire, just as their eyes began to well up from the burning sensation that blinded them completely. Pandemonium ensued in their wake, something which Lucien found rather interesting as he inserted the earbud in and regretted it immediately. He pressed a finger to his ear, muting their frantic calls in order to respond with one of his own.

<"All personnel inside the building, head out immediately. Regroup outside and rendezvous at the secondary HQ until this...threat has been dealt with.">

He stepped across the guard railing, resting his arms against the cold metal as he paused in his tracks with his eyes focused into the horizon. Something called to him-- someone whose presence was so familiar to him that it could not be avoided even if he wanted to in the first place. He reached out through the force, singling out the woman with a hand extending out towards the horizon, trailing a path through the sky. His hand shut into a fist, and with it a message being sent out through the winds of the force.

"Lyra."

Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt 's presence was unexpected. It took every ounce of discipline to not leap from the building and dash off into the direction he felt her presence in. A step forwards, and down the length of the building he went. "You're here...aren't you."

His descent was slowed by the force, and he touched the ground a few moments later without as much as scuffing his pants. A growing collection of Stormtroopers pooled on the outside of the building, waiting for the rest of their comrades to funnel out of the building. Luc walked ahead of the group, stepping past the retreating troopers and heading back into the building on his own. He was only spared from the burning properties of the gas through the application of controlling his breath with the use of the force involved.

He scanned the now deserted floor of the HQ, lowering his arms to his side but still not bothering to unclip the lightsaber hanging off his belt. He idled in the center of the room, leaving himself open once more in that nonchalant manner he carried himself.

Luc scanned the room once more, then sat himself down on a nearby chair with his feet being kicked up onto the console. "I'd thank you for not leaving any bodies, but I really don't get your angle, stranger." He called out to only other occupant of the now abandoned Command Post.

"...But how about we skip the games and chat face-to-face."




Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


Aradia dropped from the vent overhead, her lithe form landing without a sound. A rush of wind lashed out around her, dispersing the heavy gas that had collected like smog along the space. She straightened, the sharp features of her young face leveling to hold his gaze.

There was no mistaking her for what she was, the kiss of the darkside rippling off her form.

"Jedi."

Was her expressionless greeting, her mind reeling ahead. The most obvious step would be to just leave-- but then the imperials would retake the station and resume their war efforts unhindered. She didn't want to place herself in an unmovable situration. Up until the evacuation, it hadn't looked good. Her nostrils flared at the reminder of the risk, the girl desperate to maintain the upper hand.

She could handle one jedi, she told herself. Serving as a distraction would just have to do. She took a step to the side, arching towards the walls as she held his gaze.

"This isn't your station."

Like that had ever stopped them before.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Luc smirked at the woman, spinning around in the chair to face the direction of the voice that followed her appearance into the room. He leaned back into his palms, his fingers having laced comfortably on the back of his head. "Well, yeah, you're right about that." Luc shot back, tilting his eyes towards the woman. "...But I guess no is accurate as well~" The words followed through an exaggerated yawn, his lips curling right back into a smirk once it was finished.

Despite revealing herself to Lucien, he made no overtly move to display the hostility that should've existed between existential enemies within the force. Instead his eyes followed the woman's movements lazily, watching her intently as she moved towards the wall, maintaining a safe distance between herself and the Jedi sitting comfortably at the console.

A moment of silence filled the void.

He sucked on his teeth, breaking the tension by letting loose an audible breath of air. He swung his legs down from the console, pushing himself up to his feet. Luc crossed his arms over his chest, taking a brazen step towards the center of the room, his eyes still locked upon the dangerous woman across from him. "It seems as if you've got me cornered-- assuming that's your intent. But i'm a little surprised that your superiors elected to send just you into the heart of the enemy's camp."

He chuckled, pulling his arms apart and giving the woman an exaggerated shrug. "If it was me in your shoes, I would've killed everyone in this room while the Jedi was stuck on the roof and unaware of the situation. Seems very... uncharacteristic of one of your ilk-- but don't get me wrong, i'm not complaining."

Luc's visage dropped into a cold stare for a moment. "Setting aside those corrupted eyes and that pretty face, though-" His hands dropped down to his sides, but still his weapon remained out of reach of his hand. "I'd rather we take this outside-- but the ball's in your court, sweetheart."

Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


"Setting aside those corrupted eyes--"

Aradia's hand twitch towards her face, stopped short and then redirected to tuck a fly away behind her ear. Her eyes weren't that corrupted. Just specks of gold starting to faintly circle a sea of blue.

Right?

Her gaze gaze on her reflection on the screen, her throat bobbing as his approach snapped her attention back to him. She held her ground, the weight of her saber a comfort as she took another arcing step towards the wall. Every step forward he would take would be matched with one of her own, the girl making a slow but obvious movement around the wall.

"Well, that's what makes us different." she started, her tone matter of fact. She could feel the coying tease that dripped off his words, not unlike a cat lazily playing with its mouse. He spoke of being trapped, but for a moment she questioned just which of them was they prey.

Goosebumps riddled her arms.

"Unlike you, I don't kill just because I can." She reached up, yanking the exposed circuitry from a panel she had set up while waiting for his arrival. His senses were correct. This was a trap.

Every door in the building slammed down, tons of steel closing off and locking. The evacuated storm troopers wouldn't be able to come to his aid even if they had orders to. The only way this station was opening was if one of them let it.

"I kill when I have to." Her saber snapped to her hand, the red length hissing to life.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Lucien stepped forwards once more, trailing her own gait with a slow saunter of his own, all the while ensuring his eyes would never leave her sight in case she decided to put her cunning to use. Brazen as he was, it was clear that not a hint of fear lingered beneath his playful gaze. Even as the building entered lockdown, separating the two individuals from the outside world as a whole.

His attention only briefly shifted upon the activation of the trap, his head tilting away for just long enough to view the display as it happened. His lips curled even further, a devilish grin taking its place upon his face as he refocused his eyes back onto Aradia.

Another step curved inwards towards the woman, and he continued on the path that brought him closer to the woman's bubble. He raised a eyebrow by the time the last few words had exited his lips. "Interesting to hear you say that." Luc commented, a thumb being nonchalantly jabbed in the direction of the plasmatic weapon that now hissed to life within her hands. "See I thought that you Sith were pretty uniform in your desire to kill for the sake of pleasure, power and all that other good stuff that comes with your ideology~"

His shoulders jerked upwards with a shrug, falling back down to normal in unison with his hands entering the comfort of his jacket pockets. Again he continued forwards, moving ever so closer to the woman, seemingly unfazed by the sight of the lightsaber she now wielded. His own weapon remained clipped to his belt, lazily swinging with his movements, tapping against his pants.

"Oh don't tell me--" Luc leaned forwards, centering his gaze onto her at a distance which now proved rather dangerous if her desire was to remove his head. "...You're different, huh."

He chuckled, straightening himself out and finishing with a final step that left him rather exposed, given the circumstances. "I'm not like the other Jedi either, y'know. I'm sure we could reach some common ground, especially since you've up and decided to lock yourself in here with me." He winked at her playfully. "You've got a name, or do you want me to just keep callin' you Sith."


Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


The saber was held steady, its intense heat threating to undo his clothing with each step closer he took. She did not lower it. He could impale himself where he stood for all she cared.

Aradia had seen far more frightening things than him.

"You've got a name, or do you want me to just keep callin' you Sith."

She cocked a brow. "Well, that's what I am." She quipped evenly, not taking the bait as he played games with her character. She raised her chin, unaffected by what he thought of her. It wouldn't change anything, anyway.

"You look like all the others to me." She gave the wires another hard yank, electricity shooting out from the panel. It was without a doubt fried. "Ignorant." She took a step to the right, her legs crossing like figure eights. The next panel was already exposed, a spider droid stuck over it.

"Cocky."

Another step, the saber insuring the jedi remain at length at every moment. She knew her weak spots. Her heart pounded in her chest, old lessons still fresh. She'd be keeping her guard up.

"Out for blood. Remind me again, how that makes Jedi so different from my peers."

Keep him talking. Her eyes scanned him over, features softening to contempt. "Maybe that's what I call you then. Sith." Her back hit the other wall, the droid tangling in her orange locks.

"I mean, when the name fits."

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Lyra's words slipped into his mind as clear as if she had whispered the words into his own ear. Even as he and the Sith in front of his eyes engaged in a war of words between their stand-off, he could feel the presence of Lyra as if she was with him in the real. Her aura lingered around him, or so it seemed to him in those few moments their connection was at its peak. She was so close that he could feel the blood rising within his veins, beckoning him to draw his weapon upon his enemy and take to the frontlines to find her once more. To confront her and ask those questions that were now long overdue, and perhaps too late.

He could feel her pain, the unrelenting series of emotions that fueled the corruption which brought her upon this world as a Sith. They surged through him just as rapid as they came, fueling the benevolent rage which lingered beneath the impassive visage being given to the world. Anger fueled him more than anything else; a growing desire to reap vengeance upon the Sith ten times over for what they had done to her-- to her family. Months prior he would have fell to this instinct, and acted upon the emotions that gave him the strength where the force could not. He would not have hesitated to draw his weapon upon Aradia, and do what must be done to keep moving forwards.

Always forwards, towards someone or something that he could save.

But the weight of the world could not be balanced upon his shoulders alone. Dantooine, Korriban and Ziost could attest to that. He would save her-- that would never change. It was a promise that he fully intended to keep, even if he'd retracted it openly during his meeting with Nima Appw'rii . It didn't matter if she was Sith or still the same woman who served the Imperials. She could've abandoned everything and took to a quiet life away from the chaos and he'd still feel the same way regardless. In the end, she was Lyra-- not some Sith, or a woman who faced being too far gone into the corruption of the dark side to see things reasonably with her own eyes.

"I was blind before--ignorant to the truth."

It was unconditional. That is, whatever it was that bound them together. The emotions, or maybe the connection. For a Jedi who sat far too comfortably next to the thin line of the dark, it was a dangerous thing to possess.

But the consequences be damned as far as Luc was concerned.

"I won't let you go."

Luc shut his eyes, exhaling a breath as Aradia finished berating him for his antics. In a sense the woman did have a point, despite the invalidity of a few of her claims. He definitely was a cocky bastard, albeit not as much after the wonderful lesson in hubris that came with engaging multiple Dark Lords in a relatively quick succession. Ignorance was also a claim he couldn't necessarily begin to refute. There had been so much he was unaware of before embracing his Imperial heritage, and seeing first-hand how the galaxy ebbed and flowed internally through the actions -- or inaction -- of its strongest nations.

And bloodthirsty wasn't too far off from the money either. He wasn't ashamed of it-- his own dark passenger that existed alongside the goodness within. The war against the Sith had carved him into a warrior, and one who felt truly alive during the heat of battle. He became a demon within the eyes of the pawns the Sith threw his direction, always the spear who fought at the vanguard of every conflict. Conflict and death no longer were given a second thought, nor did he consider the effects that nonstop war were having on his psyche.

It just was what it was.

Which made her final point all the more intriguing.



He opened his eyes as the accusation came to past, looking past the woman's eyes in an attempt to see through the anger that shielded what was beneath.

"Perhaps you're right."

He offered in response, shrugging at her once more. Luc unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, bending down partially as he rolled the weapon in her direction. He backpedaled away from the woman, coming to a stop right before the back of his legs hit the chair seated at the console. Down he went, seating himself while he weapon remained a far enough distance away to put him at a clear disadvantage this time. As foolish as it was, Luc didn't possess the desire to shed the woman's blood. Something about her eyes had reminded him of the woman whose presence kept his mind partially occupied within the force.

She had not even slaughtered any of his men, even when the opportunity had been present. Truthfully she gave him no reason to kill her, and being a Sith was no longer enough reason for him to consider ending one's life. Not if he wished to save the one person whose fall into the dark could be prevented.

Luc leaned against the chair, blue-grey orbs continuously piercing their way across the room to meet the woman's gaze. He blinked eventually, leaning upwards into the chair, balancing his elbows against his knees. "You can call me what you want, but my friends call me Luc. I think it has a better ring to it than just Sith." Luc broke the tension. "I'll be honest-- I don't really have the muse to play the whole game of "existential enemies, therefore we must fight." There's someone out there that I care about-- and just like you, she's got some pretty eyes that have seen better days. Just like I can see you in front of me right now, I can feel her presence just as vividly. But since I'm stuck in here with you, our reunion will have to wait. So tell me, what will it be? I've got this hunch that you're not too far gone as of yet, and I wouldn't be a man if I didn't follow my gut from time to time."

He pointed to a nearby chair, then traced the tip of his finger towards her lightsaber.

"The choice is yours."
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


"You're not going to convert me," came the dry assertation. "And I'm not letting you out of here." Her chin rose brazenly to the blunt claim. "Not until this world quiets and your men leave these gates."

Even then, shouldn't she take him in? Or wouldn't it be wiser to simply kill him. His death would be one less jedi to populate the fields at the next world. Every dent in the Imperials resources were vital for people like her. She knew what her Master would say; the corruption inside of her itched for her to sink in and-- Zaavik Dagoth 's smug look flickered to her then, earning a flinch. She shook her head, driving the hunger and his eyes from her mind.

"I don't care what you think." Tendrils of the force wrapped around his saber, whipping it into her palm.

"I am sith." She crossed her arms over herself, burying his saber into her robes in the process. Her lithe form spilled into the seat, her relax posture betrayed by the wild look to her eyes. She kept constant track of the room and the screens, her life balancing on the fickle decision of the jedi to sit down. Behind the anger, there was loss. A loss of self, a loss of others. They had all lost things on the battlefield. She was young. She wasn't letting him get the better of her.

She sat up straighter, adrenaline driving her spine rigid. Keep him talking.

"So, what-- you're dating one of us? Is this a prelude to a dinner, or-- I can't image you'll find a restaurant serving after this." An edge of mocking laughter coated her words, the girl not sitting still.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

His shoulders relaxed even further, the last bit of tension dissolving from his already lax form. He waved a hand in her direction dismissively, that same hand then having the side of his face resting within his palm just a moment later. "I'm not in the business of converting Sith." Or at least that usually was the case, he thought, considering the other woman who came to mind. "...And I already figured that we were stuck in here together."

The keyword being together in that final response. Though he watched as she took his lightsaber as her own, the defenseless Jedi was still not visibly concerned regarding the tactical advantage his enemy now held over him. His confidence rarely waned in the darkest of times, and despite being locked in a building with a Sith, it wasn't as bleak as his encounters with a Sith'ari.

In fact it proved the opposite of bleak, given the circumstances involved. She continued speaking, dishing back to him a handful of attitude in the process. He grinned in return, not phased by the mocking laughter that followed her words. "She's.." He trailed off, dipping his head slightly in thought. He was thinking of the right way to word their relationship, but Luc had never put too much thought into it.

She was an attractive woman-- definitely up his alley, if he were being honest. But she was also someone who he considered a genuine friend. Someone he looked up to, learned from, and wanted nothing more than to see them happy.

His head tilted back towards the woman, still smiling softly. "...Kinda like family, I suppose. I don't think our reunion would've involved dinner, though. I'd be lucky to come out of it without a broken nose-- or worse." He chuckled. "She's a fierce woman, but I wouldn't trade her for anything."

"But what about you, hmm? From one hot-head to another, you're jut seething with anger-- I can feel it." He stretched his arms upwards, letting out a yawn now that he was content with chilling where he was. "..and you still haven't told me your name; a bit rude for a first date, don'tcha think?" Luc finished with a wink, chuckling in a similar fashion as she did earlier, minus the mocking. ​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


"This isn't a date. I'm holding you hostage!" She exploded, a wave of indignation emanating from her form. The saber that had been held almost lackadaisically snapped back to position in front of her, the girl making a show of jabbing it way in a an unspoken point.

"I have complete control of this facility. Your men aren't getting in without damaging its systems, which is the opposite of what you want. I am the only one that can unjam the locks to let you out. You're trapped. You don't even have a weapon, you only have-- hair," she gestured wildly, her expression pulling into an awkward grimace at her final word.

Well. He did!

She leaned forward, still unable to keep still as she switched the elbows she leaned against multiple times. "I'm not angry, I'm--... ... pissed," she grumbled, rolling her eyes slightly as she ate her own words. She pursed her lips, her expression narrowing at the jedi that sat there with far too much confidence given his situration.

Didn't he know how bad he was in for right now? Keep him talking.

She closed the saber and crossed her arms fully, leaning back. "How can you love a sith and then go on to condemn them, it doesn't make sense."

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

A chuckle escaped his lips. There was irony in him being held hostage, given the circumstances of how he met Auteme . "Oh how the tables have turned..." He mumbled to himself quietly, eyeing the edge of the lightsaber with an amused grin. He nodded along as she reassured herself that the situation was under her complete control. "Mhm." He confirmed off-handedly, smiling all the same despite the thought lingering in the back of his head that seeded the opposite.

Control was a loose term, to say the least. She had all the control in the world, if that's what she wanted to believe. Lucien had no intention of being hostile. In fact, he was beginning to feel amused by just how easily the woman seemed to be triggered by his teasing. She settled down after the momentary rise in emotions ended, and the lightsaber pointed at him was finally retracted away.

He tapped at his chin for a moment as he considered a response. "I ask myself that sometimes too." Luc shrugged. He knew it was hypocritical, but his life had never been nothing but nuanced. "I dunno-- maybe i'm the worst Jedi you'll ever meet, but I can't bring myself to hate the person for what their ideology has made them." He pointed at the lightsaber tucked between her crossed arms.

"I've got a family full of loyalists, some of them Sith Lords of the newly-branded Eternal. Maybe they hate me for stickin' to my Jedi ways. Hell, I get the same treatment already from enough of my fellow Jedi and Imperials already."

He sighed, drawing his eyes up to the ceiling with a waning in his smile. "I can't change who I am, and the bond we have is more important than where my allegiances stand. I'll do what I must with what i'm given, for those who I love."

​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed



Aradia's brows pulled in, her squirming dying off as she studied the Jedi that spoke unbashedly about his flaws. Her confusion grew thicker, the girl trying to puzzle out the enigma that sat before her.

"You're right," she finally concluded, bursting out of her seat. "You're not like the others, you admit you don't make sense." She left him, pacing back to the screens to check the systems. Everything was unchanged, the storm troopers beyond still following the jedi's order to let him handle this. How long would that hold until they started to suspect this Luc didn't have everything at hand?

And what would they do then? Her gut coiled tight with stress, worsening the itch she had shoved to the side. She didn't need it right now. Right?

As much as she liked to remind him she had control in this moment, it was tenuous. She almost preferred Jedi to yell at her and try to kill her, because that at least she could see through. His calmness, though?

She tossed him a sideways glance, her expression guarded. "...What do you know that I don't?" She asked slowly, a sense of paranoia creeping through her. She took a step towards him, the heels of her boots making a subtle click on the floor. She shot a final look at the screen, nothing appearing off, before leaving it to approach him with slow, meticulous steps.

"Are you hiding something?" She bounced her saber off the meat of her thigh rhythmically, continuing to consider him.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Through his interactions with Aradia, Lucien had realized that his interactions with the Sith until then had been in a much more limited capacity. Whether it was on the battlefield or during the inception of the New Imperial Order, his vision of the Sith was a far-cry from the individual who now paced back and forth to his front. Once more he shrugged at her response, not even bothering to reply towards the comment about him being different.

Luc knew he was different, whether it was through his heritage or the company he preferred to keep in comparison to his peers. The youngest of the Imperial Warlords possessed the influence that more prominent Imperials had done evil to attain, all the while maintaining most of the principles he had from the start. Well most of them, anyway. Nobody goes into a war as a boy and comes out of it with the same values as before.

So when she questioned him in paranoia, confused by his characteristic sanguine in the presence of a dangerous element, it was merely a reflection of what the boy had became. Luc was a man forged through the fires of war, in possession of a soul that had been tempered through strife and the ideology of Imperial defiance. He'd faced death in the face and survived, resisting the temptation of the dark in spite of the forces that be seemingly guiding him into its direction.

By comparison to his past experiences, his current predicament was metaphorically nothing but a walk in the park. A breather even, from the chaos of warfare going on outside their little bubble.

He shook his head, focusing his gaze upon her eyess with a somber grin curled onto his lips. "Battle plans, Order-of-Battle, classified information.. quite a bit, I'd guess." His response came as lax as the rest. "My full name is Lucien Dooku, Prince and Claimant of the throne of Serenno, Warlord of Nirauan Province, and a Knight of the New Jedi Order." He let out a laugh, picking up on the authority in his tone. "But uhh-- that's a mouthful. Am I hiding somethin' ? Anything? Not particularly. You haven't actually asked me anything in specific. Granted, I'm still liable to say no, but at the least i'm being honest."

Leaning back in his chair once again, Luc checked the monitors off-handedly, scanning his eyes across the screen before resettling them onto Aradia. "It's just me and you, woman. Still haven't told me your name though."​

​

Aradia stopped short, her pacing hitting a halt as he listed off his title. Mirth caught in her eyes, breaking up the lines of stress that had been forming in the corners of expression.

He got a ever so slight laugh of disbelief, some of the tension leaving her frame. The energy of the room changed, the girl looking at him for another long moment before something in her just... gave way. She slumped back into her chair, her head shaking as she crossed her arms at him again.

"Why are you doing this? You came to this world to take it-- to invade it. I have you trapped, I have your weapon, I could kill you at any moment and yet-- you're trying to have a conversation with me."

Her shoulders fell in ounce of tired frustration. It was very hard to maintain anger when the thing you hated wouldn't bounce it back. The aggression ceased for a moment, an edge of vulnerability creeping into the gaze that locked onto him like tracking beacon.

"Why."

 

[Jax Sloane]

L E G A C Y
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ARMOURED BATTALION
74-Z Speeder Bike Squad
Proximity: DECEASED Erskine Barran

WHAT'S FREE
​

"Mm," Jax replied drily to the stranger, Erskine, reflectively. "For the Empire," he added, with a smile rising to his lips.

In recent times he had found himself amongst new faces more times than not. With Thyrsus' joining with the New Imperial Order, he had seen himself forfeiting his golden armour, trading it for the ivory of the Imperial. Why? He couldn't say. A change? As a Sun Guard he had fought for his future, his family, his people. When his goals had been completed, there had been little else to do. Even if Thyrsus dedicated there warriors to the cause of the Imperial, it didn't feel like the cause of the Sun Guard.

Jax realized then, that he had grown tired with mercenary work.

But the sounds of battle and the stories of war still plagued him. It was all he knew, and he could not abandon it in its entirety. To fight with the Imperials? Those who would conquer the very stars that he had seen as a child... They were a cause he could fight for... Up until the next one popped up.

In the ACV, the field surgeon worked on him while his back was propped up against the wall, uh, hull of the tank. The accent, and the way they sounded gave little motivation for Jax to join in. Content with listening, it didn't take long before there was a sound, loud, too noticeable for any of them to ignore as all their heads swayed to the wall the sound spawned from. His teeth ground, but he remained motionless, so as to not disrupt the one person who seemed to be able to help him.

It was then that he remembered his stims, and he moved to reach into the sole pouch that remained at his abdomen and tugged it out. "I got this," he grumbles, waving off Coyle. At his leg, where thigh and knee joints were exposed, he plunged in the needle. The relief that spread through him instant as he inhaled and then rose up to his feet, and then, slumped over to not crack his head over the ceiling. Soon after, DECEASED Erskine Barran descended from his place up top, and Jax nodded his head. Leaving his helmet where he had been sitting, he said, "I don't plan on being deadweight, Major," foregoing the previously granted permission of first names. The man was his superior regardless, even if they were in different branches of the New Order's Armed Forces. Or maybe he had hit his head too hard. Oh well. "I'd like to take the gun up top. Sir."

Eager or stupid, he climbed up, as soon as he got that confirmation. And he saw what the Major had seen moments ago.

An unnatural obsidian dome, that hadn't been there at the start of the battle. Flashes of lightning from time to time and the sounds of death and explosions as he rotated to look back to the armour column converging on them. He spared a glance for the direction they had been originally going, to their objective, Generis Base longingly, but there was no part of him that could be against it. They had saved him, he supposed. It was only fair that he, they, returned the favour for someone... else. Searching his fried mind, he could remember little of the original battle plan, but it was hard to forget the name.

Hell's Hammers.

Shortly behind them and on their flanks, Loros Kalaric's forces joined them from the rear. From below him, he drew up a comm and patched himself in. "Speeders -- screen the advance. We don't know what's on the other side of that dome." It could've been a wall of trees, and if the speeders raced through, they'd crash and their pilots would be worthless. "Cautiously -- Get in, get out." And then his hands found the cannons handles, wrapping around them firmly before rotating around and faced forwards again after a 360.

ALLIES | NIO | Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Nima Appw'rii | Konrad Bolter
ENEMIES | TSE | The Amalgam , Eleena Salwa

 

[Lucien Dooku]

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

"I dunno. You seemed reasonable enough, and I'm not all that keen on committing violence against women if it ain't necessary."

Was the most honest response he could give her off off the top of his head, accompanying it with that characteristic grin once more. He mused on her question for a moment, considering the handful of reasons that compiled into the reasoning behind his actions. Perhaps if things had gone different, the conversation between the two would never have arose in the first place. It was her inaction, rather than what he assumed was her characteristic desire to act, that prompted it all.

Combined with the appearance of Lyra upon the world, and the lessons he'd learned since joining the Jedi Order, and the perfect grounds were produced for the situation at hand to come into play. Not every enemy needed to be met with a blade in hand, and not every Sith were the lost causes that he'd met throughout the war. He had to believe it- if not for his own sake, but for the sake of Lyra. For the sake of his cousin Adron Malvern , and for the sake of his brother back on Serenno.

"My reasoning for coming onto this world has no bearing upon my reason for wanting to have a conversation with you." He continued, leaning forwards in the chair, focusing his eyes upon her own intently. "You have me trapped, and you do possess my weapon. Our interaction could have ended in my attempted death, or something equally as chaotic, given the circumstances. Yet here we sit, standing at the precipice of a regular conversation, devoid of the notion of you being Sith and I being Imperial, Jedi, or whatever fits the bill. Right now i'm just Lucien, and you're just.."

Luc sighed, rubbing at the back of his head nonchalantly. "A woman who still won't tell her name." ​

​

 

[Don Belkora]

B A N D I D O

New Imperial Order

COMPNOR

Allies: Kelig Ward Rika Hiro

Opposition: N/A

After what felt like an eternity clambering through the black abyss of the ventilation shaft, Belkora crawled out of the exit and pulled his night-vision goggles down to see his surroundings. The previously pitch black dark now illuminated in shades of green as his goggles adapted to sufficient spectral range, noticing the signs of previous activity in the room and leading out in the corridor. He followed carefully and quietly, silenced blaster in hand as he hugged the wall and turned the corner into the more expansive corridor. Belkora stopped and froze every ten or fifteen seconds while moving, listening out for any movement or indications of where potentially armed stragglers were in the building.


Thank the gods he was out of those vents though, it had felt like he had been crawling for hours when it had been mere minutes. The claustrophobic confines had made him wish he could've opted out and stayed in the command centre, he had half expected to get trapped at one point in the vent. Compared to Yubari's lithe form and Keligs military physique, Belkora was an out of shape bantha in comparison. He supposed that he earnt it for all the years of sending men to pull the trigger and plotting. A young Belkora had gotten his hands dirty aplenty in the old days, but if he had seen the now middle-aged Belkora, he might've called him an old man. But it was wise to fear an older man in a trade where the young often met an untimely end. Middle-aged Belkora still signed death warrants, only with the flick of a pen and a credit transfer on a datapad.



Don came across the room where Agent Yubari broke into, looking around confused before making sure to check down either side of the corridor outside for people. The HRD was waiting for him all that time, seemingly content to lay in the chair like a cat. To say the least she knew how to unnerve a man, even a man who had ended up in prison multiple times like Belkora.


"Agent Yubari... how long have you been sat there? and have you found anything of note?"
​

​

 

[Darth Daiara]

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed

Spoiler: The Story

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

The New Imperial Order had surged forth from its nest once more. No longer was it poised to strike back , strictly in defense of it life and those who lived beneath its banner. The game had changed the New Imperials into a vicious tiger that could challenge the galactic superpowers head-to-head, and once more it ventured forth into the territory of the Sith. A salient was desired to allow their forces to continue their onslaught against the tyrants of Dromund Kaas, and so the 173rd were requested to accompany the Imperator's armies once more.

He owed it to the people of Nirauan, if not the New Imperial Order itself. Though he'd never admit to Tavlar that he respected the man for what he'd done, Lucien had showed it through his actions-- most of the time, anyway. Generis would be no different from those others, despite the fact that he currently wasn't at the vanguard of a formation, or dropping down from the skies with his Legion.

The Myrmidons had been deployed onto the world en masse just hours before the invasion of the planet had commenced. His Captains and their respective companies scattered across the planet to tackle tertiary objectives elsewhere, typically the kind which left the rank-and-file dead to a man.

While his Legion were kept occupied with sowing havoc through the Sith's ranks, Lucien would assume a secondary command alongside the Galidraani Commanders at the head of the operation. Officially he should've been leading men towards the facility, but his fellow commanders seemed more than willing to do the hard work on their own.

And as it wasn't his Leigon being thrown at the facility, he chose to remain compliant at the rear lines and monitor the battle through his comms. For once he was alone, given the state that the battle of Dantooine had left his companions. More than half of them had been lost, while the other half were still in recovery. It was a decision that left him open, but Lucien had never encountered a Sith who proved an opportunist on the field of battle. Then again, he'd never been in the rear-lines either.

With a bit of luck and surprise, perhaps even he was in for a fun time.

Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel | @Warposters
​

​

Objective 2: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


Aradia was done playing war games.

She was done with front lines and trenches and pleading. She had gone to Bastion a girl-- frightened and untested. She had walked away a little more refined-- A little wiser, a little quicker, a little better at holding her own. The jedi were unrelenting in their assults. She should thank them. In every loss was a lesson. Every break was chance to regrow stronger.

She sat braced inside of the station, no longer that girl with something to fear. There was no longer a master to fail. No longer an empire to serve.

Aradia had severed herself from everything. In that solidarity, she had found strength.

She heard the rhythmic fall of boots through the walls of the dark closet and knew what it meant. Infiltration. This station was a strategic command point. She had spent weeks studying the Imperials' habits. She knew they would utilize the war as a chance to overwhelm other more vulnerable points. The Imperials were always thinking forward. They were always laying down the foundation for their next attack. Aradia didn't delude herself, this wasn't stopping at Gravlex.

Stopping them from controlling this station could define so much.

She opened the maintenance room cupboard, her lean legs sliding out as she crept slowly to her feet. Like a spider. It was unlikely they could hear her from so far away, but she moved with caution regardless, her ears pricked for movement beyond the door.

Silence. Just her heart in her ears, erratic and distracting. She let out a heavy breath and let the door woosh open.

Could one person stop a war? She was prepared to find out.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

It was easy to interpret his apathy, for an extreme lack of carelessness instead. He'd crossed plenty of battlefields by his lonesome before, but from his position near the Galidraani's rear lines there was an eerie sanguine to offset the combat in the distance. He could feel the violence permeating through the air, even from where he stood. It permeated through the air, carried by the winds of the force until it settled somewhere uncomfortably within his psyche. Lucien had forgotten the feeling of being on a battlefield alone, it seemed. He'd always maintained the company of his companions, relying on their presence just as much as they did his.

But Dantooine left his companions in shambles.

And the war effort continued on, leaving his men no time to mourn their fallen properly. His Legion dispersed where they were needed, and this time he was forced to watch them from afar. Reduced to receiving sitreps and delivering the occasional order, Lucien could only feel their struggle from afar. The malaise would eventually draw him back forth to the Brigade's Command Post, once more resuming his duties as the sole Commander on station whilst the Galidraani's were down range with the majority of their men. What few reserves were kept in the backlines were spread thin as it was, and to no surprise the same would ring true for the occupants of the primary headquarters as well.

He entered to a number of raised heads,, quickly waving off their salutes and allowing them to return to their posts. The understaffed HQ had an abundance of work, and a general lack of formalities was the typical way that he ran his own Legion. He lingered for only a few minutes, his attention returning to another incoming sitrep from one of his Legion's captains. It was a casualty report; only a few losses were sustained so far, but each man loss was a brother who couldn't be easily replaced.

Luc sighed audibly as he ascended up the stairs, cutting the link off and pulling the earbud out of his ear. He was heading for the rooftop to get a better view of the frontline, while also keeping close to their HQ in the off-chance that things went sour. He came to a brief halt upon reaching the top floor of the building, tilting his head in the direction of a room at the end of the hall.

He turned off the staircase briefly, but stopped in his tracks as his focus remained locked upon what was beneath that door. He projected his thoughts into the room, loosening the concealment that diminished his presence into the force. It was veritably a shot in the dark, or rather he could've been misinterpreting what he perceived through the force. "Could be nothing." He mused out loud, bringing his foot back onto the staircase and ascending up to the top.

"But it could be something." He continued, crossing through the doors on the rooftop and moving to the guard railing at the edge of the roof. The view provided him with a surprisingly clear picture of the situation at the front. Bodies were stacking up on both sides, but the Galidraanis were a group who were known to get the job done at all costs. He could do nothing but wait and see what the results would be., and if need be, intervene on his own accord.

But for now he'd continue doing the former, given the feeling, or rather the presence that he just moments before. It was an immediate concern for him to deal with, and if his senses were not deceiving him, potentially an opportunity to serve the New Imperial Order in a more direct way as well. With his presence no longer masked, Luc stood out amidst the sea of sentients who lacked any presence at all within the force.

The ball was moved into their court, ceding them the advantage, or so it seemed.



Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


The building was already lost.

It wasn't what Aradia was expecting, but she could sense it now. Countless imperial bodies controlled the sith facility, all inconsequential to her attentions.

Until one wasn't. She paused in the doorway, her head turning towards the signature that sang at the other end of the hall. Ice hit her veins, her throat tightening as she considered her options. She had come to keep this facility out of imperial hands, reclaiming this station alone was fool's job. She hissed in frustration, kicking the door jam.

She had spent weeks trying to outwit the imperials, and here she was, rendered as nothing more than a girl with backpack.

And that's why she brought back up plans. She shoved off the door jam, her pack bouncing against her back as she jogged after the force signature.

She unslung her pack, ignoring the siren of energy walking further away. It called to her-- the jedi taunted her, she could sense it. She did not bite, making further effort to smother out her spite as she pried open a door panel and jammed an electronic bug over the exposed wires. All her efforts to learn Mechu Deru and she could barely influence basic circuitry. That was fine, the driod would do the work for her. The jedi wanted to chill on the roof?

The door hissed, hydraulics releasing as the mechanisms that would open them fried.

He could stay there now.

A tinge of a desperation caught in her gut, her eyes tossing over her shoulder. How long would it take for him to realize she had trapped him? What good could she do in that time? She turned on her heels and ran away from the roof hatch. She skittered down the hall. A door stood open, exposing two white-booted feet resting atop a console.

Aradia slid in, the pin of a gas bomb resting in her hand. "Hello, boys."

The door closed behind her. She looked to the air vents overhead.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

A smirk raised to his lips. A few moments passed before anything of interest had happened. The bait had not been took, and the intruder would instead elect to drawing the Jedi into an environment of their choosing. He expected the individual to come for his head, if the opportunity was given. Most of the Sith he'd encountered were generally of that mindset, but in hindsight it was a generalization that quickly proved to be false. This one was cunning, or at the least they were level-headed enough to not muster to the challenge that the Jedi had put forth.

They had even locked the Jedi onto the roof through means that weren't in his forte to comprehend. Annoying as it was, it would only deter him from getting into the building temporarily. Meanwhile there was chaos being sewn into the HQ beneath his feet. The intruder had released gas into the building, catching the occupants off-guard in many cases. Helmets were off against regulation, a common trait seen among the Stormtroopers at the rear, and with it their immunity to the gas being taken away in an instant.

Lungs filled with fire, just as their eyes began to well up from the burning sensation that blinded them completely. Pandemonium ensued in their wake, something which Lucien found rather interesting as he inserted the earbud in and regretted it immediately. He pressed a finger to his ear, muting their frantic calls in order to respond with one of his own.

<"All personnel inside the building, head out immediately. Regroup outside and rendezvous at the secondary HQ until this...threat has been dealt with.">

He stepped across the guard railing, resting his arms against the cold metal as he paused in his tracks with his eyes focused into the horizon. Something called to him-- someone whose presence was so familiar to him that it could not be avoided even if he wanted to in the first place. He reached out through the force, singling out the woman with a hand extending out towards the horizon, trailing a path through the sky. His hand shut into a fist, and with it a message being sent out through the winds of the force.

"Lyra."

Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt 's presence was unexpected. It took every ounce of discipline to not leap from the building and dash off into the direction he felt her presence in. A step forwards, and down the length of the building he went. "You're here...aren't you."

His descent was slowed by the force, and he touched the ground a few moments later without as much as scuffing his pants. A growing collection of Stormtroopers pooled on the outside of the building, waiting for the rest of their comrades to funnel out of the building. Luc walked ahead of the group, stepping past the retreating troopers and heading back into the building on his own. He was only spared from the burning properties of the gas through the application of controlling his breath with the use of the force involved.

He scanned the now deserted floor of the HQ, lowering his arms to his side but still not bothering to unclip the lightsaber hanging off his belt. He idled in the center of the room, leaving himself open once more in that nonchalant manner he carried himself.

Luc scanned the room once more, then sat himself down on a nearby chair with his feet being kicked up onto the console. "I'd thank you for not leaving any bodies, but I really don't get your angle, stranger." He called out to only other occupant of the now abandoned Command Post.

"...But how about we skip the games and chat face-to-face."




Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


Aradia dropped from the vent overhead, her lithe form landing without a sound. A rush of wind lashed out around her, dispersing the heavy gas that had collected like smog along the space. She straightened, the sharp features of her young face leveling to hold his gaze.

There was no mistaking her for what she was, the kiss of the darkside rippling off her form.

"Jedi."

Was her expressionless greeting, her mind reeling ahead. The most obvious step would be to just leave-- but then the imperials would retake the station and resume their war efforts unhindered. She didn't want to place herself in an unmovable situration. Up until the evacuation, it hadn't looked good. Her nostrils flared at the reminder of the risk, the girl desperate to maintain the upper hand.

She could handle one jedi, she told herself. Serving as a distraction would just have to do. She took a step to the side, arching towards the walls as she held his gaze.

"This isn't your station."

Like that had ever stopped them before.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Luc smirked at the woman, spinning around in the chair to face the direction of the voice that followed her appearance into the room. He leaned back into his palms, his fingers having laced comfortably on the back of his head. "Well, yeah, you're right about that." Luc shot back, tilting his eyes towards the woman. "...But I guess no is accurate as well~" The words followed through an exaggerated yawn, his lips curling right back into a smirk once it was finished.

Despite revealing herself to Lucien, he made no overtly move to display the hostility that should've existed between existential enemies within the force. Instead his eyes followed the woman's movements lazily, watching her intently as she moved towards the wall, maintaining a safe distance between herself and the Jedi sitting comfortably at the console.

A moment of silence filled the void.

He sucked on his teeth, breaking the tension by letting loose an audible breath of air. He swung his legs down from the console, pushing himself up to his feet. Luc crossed his arms over his chest, taking a brazen step towards the center of the room, his eyes still locked upon the dangerous woman across from him. "It seems as if you've got me cornered-- assuming that's your intent. But i'm a little surprised that your superiors elected to send just you into the heart of the enemy's camp."

He chuckled, pulling his arms apart and giving the woman an exaggerated shrug. "If it was me in your shoes, I would've killed everyone in this room while the Jedi was stuck on the roof and unaware of the situation. Seems very... uncharacteristic of one of your ilk-- but don't get me wrong, i'm not complaining."

Luc's visage dropped into a cold stare for a moment. "Setting aside those corrupted eyes and that pretty face, though-" His hands dropped down to his sides, but still his weapon remained out of reach of his hand. "I'd rather we take this outside-- but the ball's in your court, sweetheart."

Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


"Setting aside those corrupted eyes--"

Aradia's hand twitch towards her face, stopped short and then redirected to tuck a fly away behind her ear. Her eyes weren't that corrupted. Just specks of gold starting to faintly circle a sea of blue.

Right?

Her gaze gaze on her reflection on the screen, her throat bobbing as his approach snapped her attention back to him. She held her ground, the weight of her saber a comfort as she took another arcing step towards the wall. Every step forward he would take would be matched with one of her own, the girl making a slow but obvious movement around the wall.

"Well, that's what makes us different." she started, her tone matter of fact. She could feel the coying tease that dripped off his words, not unlike a cat lazily playing with its mouse. He spoke of being trapped, but for a moment she questioned just which of them was they prey.

Goosebumps riddled her arms.

"Unlike you, I don't kill just because I can." She reached up, yanking the exposed circuitry from a panel she had set up while waiting for his arrival. His senses were correct. This was a trap.

Every door in the building slammed down, tons of steel closing off and locking. The evacuated storm troopers wouldn't be able to come to his aid even if they had orders to. The only way this station was opening was if one of them let it.

"I kill when I have to." Her saber snapped to her hand, the red length hissing to life.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Lucien stepped forwards once more, trailing her own gait with a slow saunter of his own, all the while ensuring his eyes would never leave her sight in case she decided to put her cunning to use. Brazen as he was, it was clear that not a hint of fear lingered beneath his playful gaze. Even as the building entered lockdown, separating the two individuals from the outside world as a whole.

His attention only briefly shifted upon the activation of the trap, his head tilting away for just long enough to view the display as it happened. His lips curled even further, a devilish grin taking its place upon his face as he refocused his eyes back onto Aradia.

Another step curved inwards towards the woman, and he continued on the path that brought him closer to the woman's bubble. He raised a eyebrow by the time the last few words had exited his lips. "Interesting to hear you say that." Luc commented, a thumb being nonchalantly jabbed in the direction of the plasmatic weapon that now hissed to life within her hands. "See I thought that you Sith were pretty uniform in your desire to kill for the sake of pleasure, power and all that other good stuff that comes with your ideology~"

His shoulders jerked upwards with a shrug, falling back down to normal in unison with his hands entering the comfort of his jacket pockets. Again he continued forwards, moving ever so closer to the woman, seemingly unfazed by the sight of the lightsaber she now wielded. His own weapon remained clipped to his belt, lazily swinging with his movements, tapping against his pants.

"Oh don't tell me--" Luc leaned forwards, centering his gaze onto her at a distance which now proved rather dangerous if her desire was to remove his head. "...You're different, huh."

He chuckled, straightening himself out and finishing with a final step that left him rather exposed, given the circumstances. "I'm not like the other Jedi either, y'know. I'm sure we could reach some common ground, especially since you've up and decided to lock yourself in here with me." He winked at her playfully. "You've got a name, or do you want me to just keep callin' you Sith."


Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


The saber was held steady, its intense heat threating to undo his clothing with each step closer he took. She did not lower it. He could impale himself where he stood for all she cared.

Aradia had seen far more frightening things than him.

"You've got a name, or do you want me to just keep callin' you Sith."

She cocked a brow. "Well, that's what I am." She quipped evenly, not taking the bait as he played games with her character. She raised her chin, unaffected by what he thought of her. It wouldn't change anything, anyway.

"You look like all the others to me." She gave the wires another hard yank, electricity shooting out from the panel. It was without a doubt fried. "Ignorant." She took a step to the right, her legs crossing like figure eights. The next panel was already exposed, a spider droid stuck over it.

"Cocky."

Another step, the saber insuring the jedi remain at length at every moment. She knew her weak spots. Her heart pounded in her chest, old lessons still fresh. She'd be keeping her guard up.

"Out for blood. Remind me again, how that makes Jedi so different from my peers."

Keep him talking. Her eyes scanned him over, features softening to contempt. "Maybe that's what I call you then. Sith." Her back hit the other wall, the droid tangling in her orange locks.

"I mean, when the name fits."

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Lyra's words slipped into his mind as clear as if she had whispered the words into his own ear. Even as he and the Sith in front of his eyes engaged in a war of words between their stand-off, he could feel the presence of Lyra as if she was with him in the real. Her aura lingered around him, or so it seemed to him in those few moments their connection was at its peak. She was so close that he could feel the blood rising within his veins, beckoning him to draw his weapon upon his enemy and take to the frontlines to find her once more. To confront her and ask those questions that were now long overdue, and perhaps too late.

He could feel her pain, the unrelenting series of emotions that fueled the corruption which brought her upon this world as a Sith. They surged through him just as rapid as they came, fueling the benevolent rage which lingered beneath the impassive visage being given to the world. Anger fueled him more than anything else; a growing desire to reap vengeance upon the Sith ten times over for what they had done to her-- to her family. Months prior he would have fell to this instinct, and acted upon the emotions that gave him the strength where the force could not. He would not have hesitated to draw his weapon upon Aradia, and do what must be done to keep moving forwards.

Always forwards, towards someone or something that he could save.

But the weight of the world could not be balanced upon his shoulders alone. Dantooine, Korriban and Ziost could attest to that. He would save her-- that would never change. It was a promise that he fully intended to keep, even if he'd retracted it openly during his meeting with Nima Appw'rii . It didn't matter if she was Sith or still the same woman who served the Imperials. She could've abandoned everything and took to a quiet life away from the chaos and he'd still feel the same way regardless. In the end, she was Lyra-- not some Sith, or a woman who faced being too far gone into the corruption of the dark side to see things reasonably with her own eyes.

"I was blind before--ignorant to the truth."

It was unconditional. That is, whatever it was that bound them together. The emotions, or maybe the connection. For a Jedi who sat far too comfortably next to the thin line of the dark, it was a dangerous thing to possess.

But the consequences be damned as far as Luc was concerned.

"I won't let you go."

Luc shut his eyes, exhaling a breath as Aradia finished berating him for his antics. In a sense the woman did have a point, despite the invalidity of a few of her claims. He definitely was a cocky bastard, albeit not as much after the wonderful lesson in hubris that came with engaging multiple Dark Lords in a relatively quick succession. Ignorance was also a claim he couldn't necessarily begin to refute. There had been so much he was unaware of before embracing his Imperial heritage, and seeing first-hand how the galaxy ebbed and flowed internally through the actions -- or inaction -- of its strongest nations.

And bloodthirsty wasn't too far off from the money either. He wasn't ashamed of it-- his own dark passenger that existed alongside the goodness within. The war against the Sith had carved him into a warrior, and one who felt truly alive during the heat of battle. He became a demon within the eyes of the pawns the Sith threw his direction, always the spear who fought at the vanguard of every conflict. Conflict and death no longer were given a second thought, nor did he consider the effects that nonstop war were having on his psyche.

It just was what it was.

Which made her final point all the more intriguing.



He opened his eyes as the accusation came to past, looking past the woman's eyes in an attempt to see through the anger that shielded what was beneath.

"Perhaps you're right."

He offered in response, shrugging at her once more. Luc unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, bending down partially as he rolled the weapon in her direction. He backpedaled away from the woman, coming to a stop right before the back of his legs hit the chair seated at the console. Down he went, seating himself while he weapon remained a far enough distance away to put him at a clear disadvantage this time. As foolish as it was, Luc didn't possess the desire to shed the woman's blood. Something about her eyes had reminded him of the woman whose presence kept his mind partially occupied within the force.

She had not even slaughtered any of his men, even when the opportunity had been present. Truthfully she gave him no reason to kill her, and being a Sith was no longer enough reason for him to consider ending one's life. Not if he wished to save the one person whose fall into the dark could be prevented.

Luc leaned against the chair, blue-grey orbs continuously piercing their way across the room to meet the woman's gaze. He blinked eventually, leaning upwards into the chair, balancing his elbows against his knees. "You can call me what you want, but my friends call me Luc. I think it has a better ring to it than just Sith." Luc broke the tension. "I'll be honest-- I don't really have the muse to play the whole game of "existential enemies, therefore we must fight." There's someone out there that I care about-- and just like you, she's got some pretty eyes that have seen better days. Just like I can see you in front of me right now, I can feel her presence just as vividly. But since I'm stuck in here with you, our reunion will have to wait. So tell me, what will it be? I've got this hunch that you're not too far gone as of yet, and I wouldn't be a man if I didn't follow my gut from time to time."

He pointed to a nearby chair, then traced the tip of his finger towards her lightsaber.

"The choice is yours."
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


"You're not going to convert me," came the dry assertation. "And I'm not letting you out of here." Her chin rose brazenly to the blunt claim. "Not until this world quiets and your men leave these gates."

Even then, shouldn't she take him in? Or wouldn't it be wiser to simply kill him. His death would be one less jedi to populate the fields at the next world. Every dent in the Imperials resources were vital for people like her. She knew what her Master would say; the corruption inside of her itched for her to sink in and-- Zaavik Dagoth 's smug look flickered to her then, earning a flinch. She shook her head, driving the hunger and his eyes from her mind.

"I don't care what you think." Tendrils of the force wrapped around his saber, whipping it into her palm.

"I am sith." She crossed her arms over herself, burying his saber into her robes in the process. Her lithe form spilled into the seat, her relax posture betrayed by the wild look to her eyes. She kept constant track of the room and the screens, her life balancing on the fickle decision of the jedi to sit down. Behind the anger, there was loss. A loss of self, a loss of others. They had all lost things on the battlefield. She was young. She wasn't letting him get the better of her.

She sat up straighter, adrenaline driving her spine rigid. Keep him talking.

"So, what-- you're dating one of us? Is this a prelude to a dinner, or-- I can't image you'll find a restaurant serving after this." An edge of mocking laughter coated her words, the girl not sitting still.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

His shoulders relaxed even further, the last bit of tension dissolving from his already lax form. He waved a hand in her direction dismissively, that same hand then having the side of his face resting within his palm just a moment later. "I'm not in the business of converting Sith." Or at least that usually was the case, he thought, considering the other woman who came to mind. "...And I already figured that we were stuck in here together."

The keyword being together in that final response. Though he watched as she took his lightsaber as her own, the defenseless Jedi was still not visibly concerned regarding the tactical advantage his enemy now held over him. His confidence rarely waned in the darkest of times, and despite being locked in a building with a Sith, it wasn't as bleak as his encounters with a Sith'ari.

In fact it proved the opposite of bleak, given the circumstances involved. She continued speaking, dishing back to him a handful of attitude in the process. He grinned in return, not phased by the mocking laughter that followed her words. "She's.." He trailed off, dipping his head slightly in thought. He was thinking of the right way to word their relationship, but Luc had never put too much thought into it.

She was an attractive woman-- definitely up his alley, if he were being honest. But she was also someone who he considered a genuine friend. Someone he looked up to, learned from, and wanted nothing more than to see them happy.

His head tilted back towards the woman, still smiling softly. "...Kinda like family, I suppose. I don't think our reunion would've involved dinner, though. I'd be lucky to come out of it without a broken nose-- or worse." He chuckled. "She's a fierce woman, but I wouldn't trade her for anything."

"But what about you, hmm? From one hot-head to another, you're jut seething with anger-- I can feel it." He stretched his arms upwards, letting out a yawn now that he was content with chilling where he was. "..and you still haven't told me your name; a bit rude for a first date, don'tcha think?" Luc finished with a wink, chuckling in a similar fashion as she did earlier, minus the mocking. ​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


"This isn't a date. I'm holding you hostage!" She exploded, a wave of indignation emanating from her form. The saber that had been held almost lackadaisically snapped back to position in front of her, the girl making a show of jabbing it way in a an unspoken point.

"I have complete control of this facility. Your men aren't getting in without damaging its systems, which is the opposite of what you want. I am the only one that can unjam the locks to let you out. You're trapped. You don't even have a weapon, you only have-- hair," she gestured wildly, her expression pulling into an awkward grimace at her final word.

Well. He did!

She leaned forward, still unable to keep still as she switched the elbows she leaned against multiple times. "I'm not angry, I'm--... ... pissed," she grumbled, rolling her eyes slightly as she ate her own words. She pursed her lips, her expression narrowing at the jedi that sat there with far too much confidence given his situration.

Didn't he know how bad he was in for right now? Keep him talking.

She closed the saber and crossed her arms fully, leaning back. "How can you love a sith and then go on to condemn them, it doesn't make sense."

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

A chuckle escaped his lips. There was irony in him being held hostage, given the circumstances of how he met Auteme . "Oh how the tables have turned..." He mumbled to himself quietly, eyeing the edge of the lightsaber with an amused grin. He nodded along as she reassured herself that the situation was under her complete control. "Mhm." He confirmed off-handedly, smiling all the same despite the thought lingering in the back of his head that seeded the opposite.

Control was a loose term, to say the least. She had all the control in the world, if that's what she wanted to believe. Lucien had no intention of being hostile. In fact, he was beginning to feel amused by just how easily the woman seemed to be triggered by his teasing. She settled down after the momentary rise in emotions ended, and the lightsaber pointed at him was finally retracted away.

He tapped at his chin for a moment as he considered a response. "I ask myself that sometimes too." Luc shrugged. He knew it was hypocritical, but his life had never been nothing but nuanced. "I dunno-- maybe i'm the worst Jedi you'll ever meet, but I can't bring myself to hate the person for what their ideology has made them." He pointed at the lightsaber tucked between her crossed arms.

"I've got a family full of loyalists, some of them Sith Lords of the newly-branded Eternal. Maybe they hate me for stickin' to my Jedi ways. Hell, I get the same treatment already from enough of my fellow Jedi and Imperials already."

He sighed, drawing his eyes up to the ceiling with a waning in his smile. "I can't change who I am, and the bond we have is more important than where my allegiances stand. I'll do what I must with what i'm given, for those who I love."

​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed



Aradia's brows pulled in, her squirming dying off as she studied the Jedi that spoke unbashedly about his flaws. Her confusion grew thicker, the girl trying to puzzle out the enigma that sat before her.

"You're right," she finally concluded, bursting out of her seat. "You're not like the others, you admit you don't make sense." She left him, pacing back to the screens to check the systems. Everything was unchanged, the storm troopers beyond still following the jedi's order to let him handle this. How long would that hold until they started to suspect this Luc didn't have everything at hand?

And what would they do then? Her gut coiled tight with stress, worsening the itch she had shoved to the side. She didn't need it right now. Right?

As much as she liked to remind him she had control in this moment, it was tenuous. She almost preferred Jedi to yell at her and try to kill her, because that at least she could see through. His calmness, though?

She tossed him a sideways glance, her expression guarded. "...What do you know that I don't?" She asked slowly, a sense of paranoia creeping through her. She took a step towards him, the heels of her boots making a subtle click on the floor. She shot a final look at the screen, nothing appearing off, before leaving it to approach him with slow, meticulous steps.

"Are you hiding something?" She bounced her saber off the meat of her thigh rhythmically, continuing to consider him.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Through his interactions with Aradia, Lucien had realized that his interactions with the Sith until then had been in a much more limited capacity. Whether it was on the battlefield or during the inception of the New Imperial Order, his vision of the Sith was a far-cry from the individual who now paced back and forth to his front. Once more he shrugged at her response, not even bothering to reply towards the comment about him being different.

Luc knew he was different, whether it was through his heritage or the company he preferred to keep in comparison to his peers. The youngest of the Imperial Warlords possessed the influence that more prominent Imperials had done evil to attain, all the while maintaining most of the principles he had from the start. Well most of them, anyway. Nobody goes into a war as a boy and comes out of it with the same values as before.

So when she questioned him in paranoia, confused by his characteristic sanguine in the presence of a dangerous element, it was merely a reflection of what the boy had became. Luc was a man forged through the fires of war, in possession of a soul that had been tempered through strife and the ideology of Imperial defiance. He'd faced death in the face and survived, resisting the temptation of the dark in spite of the forces that be seemingly guiding him into its direction.

By comparison to his past experiences, his current predicament was metaphorically nothing but a walk in the park. A breather even, from the chaos of warfare going on outside their little bubble.

He shook his head, focusing his gaze upon her eyess with a somber grin curled onto his lips. "Battle plans, Order-of-Battle, classified information.. quite a bit, I'd guess." His response came as lax as the rest. "My full name is Lucien Dooku, Prince and Claimant of the throne of Serenno, Warlord of Nirauan Province, and a Knight of the New Jedi Order." He let out a laugh, picking up on the authority in his tone. "But uhh-- that's a mouthful. Am I hiding somethin' ? Anything? Not particularly. You haven't actually asked me anything in specific. Granted, I'm still liable to say no, but at the least i'm being honest."

Leaning back in his chair once again, Luc checked the monitors off-handedly, scanning his eyes across the screen before resettling them onto Aradia. "It's just me and you, woman. Still haven't told me your name though."​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


Aradia stopped short, her pacing hitting a halt as he listed off his title. Mirth caught in her eyes, breaking up the lines of stress that had been forming in the corners of expression.

He got a ever so slight laugh of disbelief, some of the tension leaving her frame. The energy of the room changed, the girl looking at him for another long moment before something in her just... gave way. She slumped back into her chair, her head shaking as she crossed her arms at him again.

"Why are you doing this? You came to this world to take it-- to invade it. I have you trapped, I have your weapon, I could kill you at any moment and yet-- you're trying to have a conversation with me."

Her shoulders fell in ounce of tired frustration. It was very hard to maintain anger when the thing you hated wouldn't bounce it back. The aggression ceased for a moment, an edge of vulnerability creeping into the gaze that locked onto him like tracking beacon.

"Why."

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

"I dunno. You seemed reasonable enough, and I'm not all that keen on committing violence against women if it ain't necessary."

Was the most honest response he could give her off off the top of his head, accompanying it with that characteristic grin once more. He mused on her question for a moment, considering the handful of reasons that compiled into the reasoning behind his actions. Perhaps if things had gone different, the conversation between the two would never have arose in the first place. It was her inaction, rather than what he assumed was her characteristic desire to act, that prompted it all.

Combined with the appearance of Lyra upon the world, and the lessons he'd learned since joining the Jedi Order, and the perfect grounds were produced for the situation at hand to come into play. Not every enemy needed to be met with a blade in hand, and not every Sith were the lost causes that he'd met throughout the war. He had to believe it- if not for his own sake, but for the sake of Lyra. For the sake of his cousin Adron Malvern , and for the sake of his brother back on Serenno.

"My reasoning for coming onto this world has no bearing upon my reason for wanting to have a conversation with you." He continued, leaning forwards in the chair, focusing his eyes upon her own intently. "You have me trapped, and you do possess my weapon. Our interaction could have ended in my attempted death, or something equally as chaotic, given the circumstances. Yet here we sit, standing at the precipice of a regular conversation, devoid of the notion of you being Sith and I being Imperial, Jedi, or whatever fits the bill. Right now i'm just Lucien, and you're just.."

Luc sighed, rubbing at the back of his head nonchalantly. "A woman who still won't tell her name." ​

​

Aradia's expression contorted at the mention of what he was. Imperial. The word sat like poison in her mind, filled with death and needless destruction. Imperial. It was curse. It was pain.

It was everything she sought to overcome.

Her eyes flashed, turning as cold as the sudden wash of darkside that permeated through the energy in the room. "I hate your kind," she nearly growled, holding up the saber hilt in an accusatory point. So much for the conversation being devoid of who they were. She leaned forward, that tension returning to the box-set of her shoulders.

"You can't put down that title for a conversation. And you can't just pick it up again when it's convenient for you-- I don't. I have people that have asked to be in their family. Me-- a fethin slave, picture that." The personal words fell from her lips, defying her life-long drive for privacy as she spilled a little piece of who she was out for the stranger.

If just to make her point.

"But here I am, trapping myself in with your stupid ass, fighting a war that I don't even believe in, because I am a sith above all else. You can take away my peers, my academies, a family-- lovers," she said a pointed look his way. "But you cannot take my actions out of the past. You either are, or you aren't. So what the feth are you, Prince of my Anus. Really, it sounds like it's time for you to decide."

Her fingers tightened over her forearms, the itch turning into a song that had hit her veins. Because there was no turning off who she was.

 

[Lucien Dooku]

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

It didn't take much for him to eventually hit a nerve with his words. It seemed as if the mention of Imperial was more than enough to set her off, and Luc didn't dig the issue in with any jest remarks this time around. It wasn't out of fear, as she might've thought, but rather out of a small semblance of respect that the wished to give to his companion for the duration of their lockdown.

She hated Imperials for a reason.

Luc didn't know that reason, but it wasn't surprising to hear that sentiment out loud. There were plenty of individuals whose loyalty to the Sith Empire had never come into question. There were also those who rose from the pits of despair that the Zambrano's crumbling empire had fostered, only to adopt the ways of the Sith at the behest of their "liberators" from oppression.

Many such cases existed on both ends of that spectrum, and neither had experienced the enlightenment that brought the New Imperials to war against the Sith. Lucien couldn't relate with being a slave as she was, but the feeling of despair, of suffering the loss of home and loved ones, were experiences they both shared. Perhaps in another timeline, their roles could've been reversed. Such was the duality of the things, without delving into the intricacies of the force.

He blinked, in any case, dropping his eyes onto the pointed hilt for just long enough to take it into account. Luc's eyes returned to her own, taking in her features without as much of a pause in regard to the aura that permeated off her form. The taint of the dark was heavy, but it was far from the overwhelming presence that Carnifex and Prazutis had embodied. He leaned forth in his chair once more, keeping his eyes locked upon her own.

"I'm just me."

He was defiant until the end, even in the face of certain death. But in the presence of the woman who held him "hostage", empathy and compassion were radiating from his core. A new feeling to him, but one that was certainly present.

"Just some guy with a complicated life, in a complicated galaxy, trying to do right by the ones I love, and maybe find a semblance of normality in the future. I learned the hard way that generalizing yourself into some predefined category will do nothin' for you but hold you down. You speak of loss, but I too have experienced the same pain that's coming off you right now. I've lost my home and my family because of a decision I made to live a life that wasn't predestined by another. My friends were abandoned by me, so I could selfishly go fight back against the Sith. I chose this life-- and just what I am can only be defined as me; Lucien, nothing else."

Luc treaded thin ice with his words. He was direct, but calm in tone. Patience wasn't a virtue he strived for in his life, but an eerie calm had enveloped him as their time together increased.

"You speak of people who wish for you to be part of their family, yet in the same vein I see a woman who's been thrown onto a battlefield with a directive of letting her emotions guide her forwards through the chaos. You're here all alone, minus the exception of myself. You speak of things within the realm of them being absolute truths, with no room for nuance to work with. My life has been nothing but a series of nuanced events, pushing me back and forth, reshaping my principles as the need arise.

You may be a Sith, but do not fool yourself into thinking that it is logical to deal in nothing but absolutes. Be as flexible as the passion within you that ignites your soul into action. Strive to reach the ebb and flow within your psyche, much like the winds of the force itself coalesces all around us. Learn when to channel your rage, and you might find yourself suddenly being open to the little details that may have previously escaped your perception. Emotion-- specifically anger is merely one pillar of strength for you to draw upon, Sith. Strive to attain enough temperance to keep the worst impulses in check, and perhaps you'll figure out just how far one's passion could reach."

He never thought himself much of a teacher, but it seemed right in this moment to impart what wisdom he had onto his advesrary. Luc didn't need to be a Sith to understand the concept of using ones emotions as fuel, for it was his own mixture of passion and anger that allowed him to defy the odds time and time again.

"Your master should've taught you these tenets, if their goal was to craft a student who could one day surpass themselves."

The grin faded away, replaced for once by the cold impassivity that encompassed the rest of his visage.

"...But the essence of control is to remain hidden from view, is it not? To hide the guidance which would lead to yourself being a lethal weapon against both foe and ally alike, it would appear that your betters have done well."
​

​

 

[Darth Daiara]

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed

Spoiler: The Story

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

The New Imperial Order had surged forth from its nest once more. No longer was it poised to strike back , strictly in defense of it life and those who lived beneath its banner. The game had changed the New Imperials into a vicious tiger that could challenge the galactic superpowers head-to-head, and once more it ventured forth into the territory of the Sith. A salient was desired to allow their forces to continue their onslaught against the tyrants of Dromund Kaas, and so the 173rd were requested to accompany the Imperator's armies once more.

He owed it to the people of Nirauan, if not the New Imperial Order itself. Though he'd never admit to Tavlar that he respected the man for what he'd done, Lucien had showed it through his actions-- most of the time, anyway. Generis would be no different from those others, despite the fact that he currently wasn't at the vanguard of a formation, or dropping down from the skies with his Legion.

The Myrmidons had been deployed onto the world en masse just hours before the invasion of the planet had commenced. His Captains and their respective companies scattered across the planet to tackle tertiary objectives elsewhere, typically the kind which left the rank-and-file dead to a man.

While his Legion were kept occupied with sowing havoc through the Sith's ranks, Lucien would assume a secondary command alongside the Galidraani Commanders at the head of the operation. Officially he should've been leading men towards the facility, but his fellow commanders seemed more than willing to do the hard work on their own.

And as it wasn't his Leigon being thrown at the facility, he chose to remain compliant at the rear lines and monitor the battle through his comms. For once he was alone, given the state that the battle of Dantooine had left his companions. More than half of them had been lost, while the other half were still in recovery. It was a decision that left him open, but Lucien had never encountered a Sith who proved an opportunist on the field of battle. Then again, he'd never been in the rear-lines either.

With a bit of luck and surprise, perhaps even he was in for a fun time.

Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel | @Warposters
​

​

Objective 2: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


Aradia was done playing war games.

She was done with front lines and trenches and pleading. She had gone to Bastion a girl-- frightened and untested. She had walked away a little more refined-- A little wiser, a little quicker, a little better at holding her own. The jedi were unrelenting in their assults. She should thank them. In every loss was a lesson. Every break was chance to regrow stronger.

She sat braced inside of the station, no longer that girl with something to fear. There was no longer a master to fail. No longer an empire to serve.

Aradia had severed herself from everything. In that solidarity, she had found strength.

She heard the rhythmic fall of boots through the walls of the dark closet and knew what it meant. Infiltration. This station was a strategic command point. She had spent weeks studying the Imperials' habits. She knew they would utilize the war as a chance to overwhelm other more vulnerable points. The Imperials were always thinking forward. They were always laying down the foundation for their next attack. Aradia didn't delude herself, this wasn't stopping at Gravlex.

Stopping them from controlling this station could define so much.

She opened the maintenance room cupboard, her lean legs sliding out as she crept slowly to her feet. Like a spider. It was unlikely they could hear her from so far away, but she moved with caution regardless, her ears pricked for movement beyond the door.

Silence. Just her heart in her ears, erratic and distracting. She let out a heavy breath and let the door woosh open.

Could one person stop a war? She was prepared to find out.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

It was easy to interpret his apathy, for an extreme lack of carelessness instead. He'd crossed plenty of battlefields by his lonesome before, but from his position near the Galidraani's rear lines there was an eerie sanguine to offset the combat in the distance. He could feel the violence permeating through the air, even from where he stood. It permeated through the air, carried by the winds of the force until it settled somewhere uncomfortably within his psyche. Lucien had forgotten the feeling of being on a battlefield alone, it seemed. He'd always maintained the company of his companions, relying on their presence just as much as they did his.

But Dantooine left his companions in shambles.

And the war effort continued on, leaving his men no time to mourn their fallen properly. His Legion dispersed where they were needed, and this time he was forced to watch them from afar. Reduced to receiving sitreps and delivering the occasional order, Lucien could only feel their struggle from afar. The malaise would eventually draw him back forth to the Brigade's Command Post, once more resuming his duties as the sole Commander on station whilst the Galidraani's were down range with the majority of their men. What few reserves were kept in the backlines were spread thin as it was, and to no surprise the same would ring true for the occupants of the primary headquarters as well.

He entered to a number of raised heads,, quickly waving off their salutes and allowing them to return to their posts. The understaffed HQ had an abundance of work, and a general lack of formalities was the typical way that he ran his own Legion. He lingered for only a few minutes, his attention returning to another incoming sitrep from one of his Legion's captains. It was a casualty report; only a few losses were sustained so far, but each man loss was a brother who couldn't be easily replaced.

Luc sighed audibly as he ascended up the stairs, cutting the link off and pulling the earbud out of his ear. He was heading for the rooftop to get a better view of the frontline, while also keeping close to their HQ in the off-chance that things went sour. He came to a brief halt upon reaching the top floor of the building, tilting his head in the direction of a room at the end of the hall.

He turned off the staircase briefly, but stopped in his tracks as his focus remained locked upon what was beneath that door. He projected his thoughts into the room, loosening the concealment that diminished his presence into the force. It was veritably a shot in the dark, or rather he could've been misinterpreting what he perceived through the force. "Could be nothing." He mused out loud, bringing his foot back onto the staircase and ascending up to the top.

"But it could be something." He continued, crossing through the doors on the rooftop and moving to the guard railing at the edge of the roof. The view provided him with a surprisingly clear picture of the situation at the front. Bodies were stacking up on both sides, but the Galidraanis were a group who were known to get the job done at all costs. He could do nothing but wait and see what the results would be., and if need be, intervene on his own accord.

But for now he'd continue doing the former, given the feeling, or rather the presence that he just moments before. It was an immediate concern for him to deal with, and if his senses were not deceiving him, potentially an opportunity to serve the New Imperial Order in a more direct way as well. With his presence no longer masked, Luc stood out amidst the sea of sentients who lacked any presence at all within the force.

The ball was moved into their court, ceding them the advantage, or so it seemed.



Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


The building was already lost.

It wasn't what Aradia was expecting, but she could sense it now. Countless imperial bodies controlled the sith facility, all inconsequential to her attentions.

Until one wasn't. She paused in the doorway, her head turning towards the signature that sang at the other end of the hall. Ice hit her veins, her throat tightening as she considered her options. She had come to keep this facility out of imperial hands, reclaiming this station alone was fool's job. She hissed in frustration, kicking the door jam.

She had spent weeks trying to outwit the imperials, and here she was, rendered as nothing more than a girl with backpack.

And that's why she brought back up plans. She shoved off the door jam, her pack bouncing against her back as she jogged after the force signature.

She unslung her pack, ignoring the siren of energy walking further away. It called to her-- the jedi taunted her, she could sense it. She did not bite, making further effort to smother out her spite as she pried open a door panel and jammed an electronic bug over the exposed wires. All her efforts to learn Mechu Deru and she could barely influence basic circuitry. That was fine, the driod would do the work for her. The jedi wanted to chill on the roof?

The door hissed, hydraulics releasing as the mechanisms that would open them fried.

He could stay there now.

A tinge of a desperation caught in her gut, her eyes tossing over her shoulder. How long would it take for him to realize she had trapped him? What good could she do in that time? She turned on her heels and ran away from the roof hatch. She skittered down the hall. A door stood open, exposing two white-booted feet resting atop a console.

Aradia slid in, the pin of a gas bomb resting in her hand. "Hello, boys."

The door closed behind her. She looked to the air vents overhead.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

A smirk raised to his lips. A few moments passed before anything of interest had happened. The bait had not been took, and the intruder would instead elect to drawing the Jedi into an environment of their choosing. He expected the individual to come for his head, if the opportunity was given. Most of the Sith he'd encountered were generally of that mindset, but in hindsight it was a generalization that quickly proved to be false. This one was cunning, or at the least they were level-headed enough to not muster to the challenge that the Jedi had put forth.

They had even locked the Jedi onto the roof through means that weren't in his forte to comprehend. Annoying as it was, it would only deter him from getting into the building temporarily. Meanwhile there was chaos being sewn into the HQ beneath his feet. The intruder had released gas into the building, catching the occupants off-guard in many cases. Helmets were off against regulation, a common trait seen among the Stormtroopers at the rear, and with it their immunity to the gas being taken away in an instant.

Lungs filled with fire, just as their eyes began to well up from the burning sensation that blinded them completely. Pandemonium ensued in their wake, something which Lucien found rather interesting as he inserted the earbud in and regretted it immediately. He pressed a finger to his ear, muting their frantic calls in order to respond with one of his own.

<"All personnel inside the building, head out immediately. Regroup outside and rendezvous at the secondary HQ until this...threat has been dealt with.">

He stepped across the guard railing, resting his arms against the cold metal as he paused in his tracks with his eyes focused into the horizon. Something called to him-- someone whose presence was so familiar to him that it could not be avoided even if he wanted to in the first place. He reached out through the force, singling out the woman with a hand extending out towards the horizon, trailing a path through the sky. His hand shut into a fist, and with it a message being sent out through the winds of the force.

"Lyra."

Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt 's presence was unexpected. It took every ounce of discipline to not leap from the building and dash off into the direction he felt her presence in. A step forwards, and down the length of the building he went. "You're here...aren't you."

His descent was slowed by the force, and he touched the ground a few moments later without as much as scuffing his pants. A growing collection of Stormtroopers pooled on the outside of the building, waiting for the rest of their comrades to funnel out of the building. Luc walked ahead of the group, stepping past the retreating troopers and heading back into the building on his own. He was only spared from the burning properties of the gas through the application of controlling his breath with the use of the force involved.

He scanned the now deserted floor of the HQ, lowering his arms to his side but still not bothering to unclip the lightsaber hanging off his belt. He idled in the center of the room, leaving himself open once more in that nonchalant manner he carried himself.

Luc scanned the room once more, then sat himself down on a nearby chair with his feet being kicked up onto the console. "I'd thank you for not leaving any bodies, but I really don't get your angle, stranger." He called out to only other occupant of the now abandoned Command Post.

"...But how about we skip the games and chat face-to-face."




Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


Aradia dropped from the vent overhead, her lithe form landing without a sound. A rush of wind lashed out around her, dispersing the heavy gas that had collected like smog along the space. She straightened, the sharp features of her young face leveling to hold his gaze.

There was no mistaking her for what she was, the kiss of the darkside rippling off her form.

"Jedi."

Was her expressionless greeting, her mind reeling ahead. The most obvious step would be to just leave-- but then the imperials would retake the station and resume their war efforts unhindered. She didn't want to place herself in an unmovable situration. Up until the evacuation, it hadn't looked good. Her nostrils flared at the reminder of the risk, the girl desperate to maintain the upper hand.

She could handle one jedi, she told herself. Serving as a distraction would just have to do. She took a step to the side, arching towards the walls as she held his gaze.

"This isn't your station."

Like that had ever stopped them before.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Luc smirked at the woman, spinning around in the chair to face the direction of the voice that followed her appearance into the room. He leaned back into his palms, his fingers having laced comfortably on the back of his head. "Well, yeah, you're right about that." Luc shot back, tilting his eyes towards the woman. "...But I guess no is accurate as well~" The words followed through an exaggerated yawn, his lips curling right back into a smirk once it was finished.

Despite revealing herself to Lucien, he made no overtly move to display the hostility that should've existed between existential enemies within the force. Instead his eyes followed the woman's movements lazily, watching her intently as she moved towards the wall, maintaining a safe distance between herself and the Jedi sitting comfortably at the console.

A moment of silence filled the void.

He sucked on his teeth, breaking the tension by letting loose an audible breath of air. He swung his legs down from the console, pushing himself up to his feet. Luc crossed his arms over his chest, taking a brazen step towards the center of the room, his eyes still locked upon the dangerous woman across from him. "It seems as if you've got me cornered-- assuming that's your intent. But i'm a little surprised that your superiors elected to send just you into the heart of the enemy's camp."

He chuckled, pulling his arms apart and giving the woman an exaggerated shrug. "If it was me in your shoes, I would've killed everyone in this room while the Jedi was stuck on the roof and unaware of the situation. Seems very... uncharacteristic of one of your ilk-- but don't get me wrong, i'm not complaining."

Luc's visage dropped into a cold stare for a moment. "Setting aside those corrupted eyes and that pretty face, though-" His hands dropped down to his sides, but still his weapon remained out of reach of his hand. "I'd rather we take this outside-- but the ball's in your court, sweetheart."

Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


"Setting aside those corrupted eyes--"

Aradia's hand twitch towards her face, stopped short and then redirected to tuck a fly away behind her ear. Her eyes weren't that corrupted. Just specks of gold starting to faintly circle a sea of blue.

Right?

Her gaze gaze on her reflection on the screen, her throat bobbing as his approach snapped her attention back to him. She held her ground, the weight of her saber a comfort as she took another arcing step towards the wall. Every step forward he would take would be matched with one of her own, the girl making a slow but obvious movement around the wall.

"Well, that's what makes us different." she started, her tone matter of fact. She could feel the coying tease that dripped off his words, not unlike a cat lazily playing with its mouse. He spoke of being trapped, but for a moment she questioned just which of them was they prey.

Goosebumps riddled her arms.

"Unlike you, I don't kill just because I can." She reached up, yanking the exposed circuitry from a panel she had set up while waiting for his arrival. His senses were correct. This was a trap.

Every door in the building slammed down, tons of steel closing off and locking. The evacuated storm troopers wouldn't be able to come to his aid even if they had orders to. The only way this station was opening was if one of them let it.

"I kill when I have to." Her saber snapped to her hand, the red length hissing to life.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Lucien stepped forwards once more, trailing her own gait with a slow saunter of his own, all the while ensuring his eyes would never leave her sight in case she decided to put her cunning to use. Brazen as he was, it was clear that not a hint of fear lingered beneath his playful gaze. Even as the building entered lockdown, separating the two individuals from the outside world as a whole.

His attention only briefly shifted upon the activation of the trap, his head tilting away for just long enough to view the display as it happened. His lips curled even further, a devilish grin taking its place upon his face as he refocused his eyes back onto Aradia.

Another step curved inwards towards the woman, and he continued on the path that brought him closer to the woman's bubble. He raised a eyebrow by the time the last few words had exited his lips. "Interesting to hear you say that." Luc commented, a thumb being nonchalantly jabbed in the direction of the plasmatic weapon that now hissed to life within her hands. "See I thought that you Sith were pretty uniform in your desire to kill for the sake of pleasure, power and all that other good stuff that comes with your ideology~"

His shoulders jerked upwards with a shrug, falling back down to normal in unison with his hands entering the comfort of his jacket pockets. Again he continued forwards, moving ever so closer to the woman, seemingly unfazed by the sight of the lightsaber she now wielded. His own weapon remained clipped to his belt, lazily swinging with his movements, tapping against his pants.

"Oh don't tell me--" Luc leaned forwards, centering his gaze onto her at a distance which now proved rather dangerous if her desire was to remove his head. "...You're different, huh."

He chuckled, straightening himself out and finishing with a final step that left him rather exposed, given the circumstances. "I'm not like the other Jedi either, y'know. I'm sure we could reach some common ground, especially since you've up and decided to lock yourself in here with me." He winked at her playfully. "You've got a name, or do you want me to just keep callin' you Sith."


Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel @Warposters
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


The saber was held steady, its intense heat threating to undo his clothing with each step closer he took. She did not lower it. He could impale himself where he stood for all she cared.

Aradia had seen far more frightening things than him.

"You've got a name, or do you want me to just keep callin' you Sith."

She cocked a brow. "Well, that's what I am." She quipped evenly, not taking the bait as he played games with her character. She raised her chin, unaffected by what he thought of her. It wouldn't change anything, anyway.

"You look like all the others to me." She gave the wires another hard yank, electricity shooting out from the panel. It was without a doubt fried. "Ignorant." She took a step to the right, her legs crossing like figure eights. The next panel was already exposed, a spider droid stuck over it.

"Cocky."

Another step, the saber insuring the jedi remain at length at every moment. She knew her weak spots. Her heart pounded in her chest, old lessons still fresh. She'd be keeping her guard up.

"Out for blood. Remind me again, how that makes Jedi so different from my peers."

Keep him talking. Her eyes scanned him over, features softening to contempt. "Maybe that's what I call you then. Sith." Her back hit the other wall, the droid tangling in her orange locks.

"I mean, when the name fits."

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Lyra's words slipped into his mind as clear as if she had whispered the words into his own ear. Even as he and the Sith in front of his eyes engaged in a war of words between their stand-off, he could feel the presence of Lyra as if she was with him in the real. Her aura lingered around him, or so it seemed to him in those few moments their connection was at its peak. She was so close that he could feel the blood rising within his veins, beckoning him to draw his weapon upon his enemy and take to the frontlines to find her once more. To confront her and ask those questions that were now long overdue, and perhaps too late.

He could feel her pain, the unrelenting series of emotions that fueled the corruption which brought her upon this world as a Sith. They surged through him just as rapid as they came, fueling the benevolent rage which lingered beneath the impassive visage being given to the world. Anger fueled him more than anything else; a growing desire to reap vengeance upon the Sith ten times over for what they had done to her-- to her family. Months prior he would have fell to this instinct, and acted upon the emotions that gave him the strength where the force could not. He would not have hesitated to draw his weapon upon Aradia, and do what must be done to keep moving forwards.

Always forwards, towards someone or something that he could save.

But the weight of the world could not be balanced upon his shoulders alone. Dantooine, Korriban and Ziost could attest to that. He would save her-- that would never change. It was a promise that he fully intended to keep, even if he'd retracted it openly during his meeting with Nima Appw'rii . It didn't matter if she was Sith or still the same woman who served the Imperials. She could've abandoned everything and took to a quiet life away from the chaos and he'd still feel the same way regardless. In the end, she was Lyra-- not some Sith, or a woman who faced being too far gone into the corruption of the dark side to see things reasonably with her own eyes.

"I was blind before--ignorant to the truth."

It was unconditional. That is, whatever it was that bound them together. The emotions, or maybe the connection. For a Jedi who sat far too comfortably next to the thin line of the dark, it was a dangerous thing to possess.

But the consequences be damned as far as Luc was concerned.

"I won't let you go."

Luc shut his eyes, exhaling a breath as Aradia finished berating him for his antics. In a sense the woman did have a point, despite the invalidity of a few of her claims. He definitely was a cocky bastard, albeit not as much after the wonderful lesson in hubris that came with engaging multiple Dark Lords in a relatively quick succession. Ignorance was also a claim he couldn't necessarily begin to refute. There had been so much he was unaware of before embracing his Imperial heritage, and seeing first-hand how the galaxy ebbed and flowed internally through the actions -- or inaction -- of its strongest nations.

And bloodthirsty wasn't too far off from the money either. He wasn't ashamed of it-- his own dark passenger that existed alongside the goodness within. The war against the Sith had carved him into a warrior, and one who felt truly alive during the heat of battle. He became a demon within the eyes of the pawns the Sith threw his direction, always the spear who fought at the vanguard of every conflict. Conflict and death no longer were given a second thought, nor did he consider the effects that nonstop war were having on his psyche.

It just was what it was.

Which made her final point all the more intriguing.



He opened his eyes as the accusation came to past, looking past the woman's eyes in an attempt to see through the anger that shielded what was beneath.

"Perhaps you're right."

He offered in response, shrugging at her once more. Luc unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, bending down partially as he rolled the weapon in her direction. He backpedaled away from the woman, coming to a stop right before the back of his legs hit the chair seated at the console. Down he went, seating himself while he weapon remained a far enough distance away to put him at a clear disadvantage this time. As foolish as it was, Luc didn't possess the desire to shed the woman's blood. Something about her eyes had reminded him of the woman whose presence kept his mind partially occupied within the force.

She had not even slaughtered any of his men, even when the opportunity had been present. Truthfully she gave him no reason to kill her, and being a Sith was no longer enough reason for him to consider ending one's life. Not if he wished to save the one person whose fall into the dark could be prevented.

Luc leaned against the chair, blue-grey orbs continuously piercing their way across the room to meet the woman's gaze. He blinked eventually, leaning upwards into the chair, balancing his elbows against his knees. "You can call me what you want, but my friends call me Luc. I think it has a better ring to it than just Sith." Luc broke the tension. "I'll be honest-- I don't really have the muse to play the whole game of "existential enemies, therefore we must fight." There's someone out there that I care about-- and just like you, she's got some pretty eyes that have seen better days. Just like I can see you in front of me right now, I can feel her presence just as vividly. But since I'm stuck in here with you, our reunion will have to wait. So tell me, what will it be? I've got this hunch that you're not too far gone as of yet, and I wouldn't be a man if I didn't follow my gut from time to time."

He pointed to a nearby chair, then traced the tip of his finger towards her lightsaber.

"The choice is yours."
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


"You're not going to convert me," came the dry assertation. "And I'm not letting you out of here." Her chin rose brazenly to the blunt claim. "Not until this world quiets and your men leave these gates."

Even then, shouldn't she take him in? Or wouldn't it be wiser to simply kill him. His death would be one less jedi to populate the fields at the next world. Every dent in the Imperials resources were vital for people like her. She knew what her Master would say; the corruption inside of her itched for her to sink in and-- Zaavik Dagoth 's smug look flickered to her then, earning a flinch. She shook her head, driving the hunger and his eyes from her mind.

"I don't care what you think." Tendrils of the force wrapped around his saber, whipping it into her palm.

"I am sith." She crossed her arms over herself, burying his saber into her robes in the process. Her lithe form spilled into the seat, her relax posture betrayed by the wild look to her eyes. She kept constant track of the room and the screens, her life balancing on the fickle decision of the jedi to sit down. Behind the anger, there was loss. A loss of self, a loss of others. They had all lost things on the battlefield. She was young. She wasn't letting him get the better of her.

She sat up straighter, adrenaline driving her spine rigid. Keep him talking.

"So, what-- you're dating one of us? Is this a prelude to a dinner, or-- I can't image you'll find a restaurant serving after this." An edge of mocking laughter coated her words, the girl not sitting still.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

His shoulders relaxed even further, the last bit of tension dissolving from his already lax form. He waved a hand in her direction dismissively, that same hand then having the side of his face resting within his palm just a moment later. "I'm not in the business of converting Sith." Or at least that usually was the case, he thought, considering the other woman who came to mind. "...And I already figured that we were stuck in here together."

The keyword being together in that final response. Though he watched as she took his lightsaber as her own, the defenseless Jedi was still not visibly concerned regarding the tactical advantage his enemy now held over him. His confidence rarely waned in the darkest of times, and despite being locked in a building with a Sith, it wasn't as bleak as his encounters with a Sith'ari.

In fact it proved the opposite of bleak, given the circumstances involved. She continued speaking, dishing back to him a handful of attitude in the process. He grinned in return, not phased by the mocking laughter that followed her words. "She's.." He trailed off, dipping his head slightly in thought. He was thinking of the right way to word their relationship, but Luc had never put too much thought into it.

She was an attractive woman-- definitely up his alley, if he were being honest. But she was also someone who he considered a genuine friend. Someone he looked up to, learned from, and wanted nothing more than to see them happy.

His head tilted back towards the woman, still smiling softly. "...Kinda like family, I suppose. I don't think our reunion would've involved dinner, though. I'd be lucky to come out of it without a broken nose-- or worse." He chuckled. "She's a fierce woman, but I wouldn't trade her for anything."

"But what about you, hmm? From one hot-head to another, you're jut seething with anger-- I can feel it." He stretched his arms upwards, letting out a yawn now that he was content with chilling where he was. "..and you still haven't told me your name; a bit rude for a first date, don'tcha think?" Luc finished with a wink, chuckling in a similar fashion as she did earlier, minus the mocking. ​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


"This isn't a date. I'm holding you hostage!" She exploded, a wave of indignation emanating from her form. The saber that had been held almost lackadaisically snapped back to position in front of her, the girl making a show of jabbing it way in a an unspoken point.

"I have complete control of this facility. Your men aren't getting in without damaging its systems, which is the opposite of what you want. I am the only one that can unjam the locks to let you out. You're trapped. You don't even have a weapon, you only have-- hair," she gestured wildly, her expression pulling into an awkward grimace at her final word.

Well. He did!

She leaned forward, still unable to keep still as she switched the elbows she leaned against multiple times. "I'm not angry, I'm--... ... pissed," she grumbled, rolling her eyes slightly as she ate her own words. She pursed her lips, her expression narrowing at the jedi that sat there with far too much confidence given his situration.

Didn't he know how bad he was in for right now? Keep him talking.

She closed the saber and crossed her arms fully, leaning back. "How can you love a sith and then go on to condemn them, it doesn't make sense."

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

A chuckle escaped his lips. There was irony in him being held hostage, given the circumstances of how he met Auteme . "Oh how the tables have turned..." He mumbled to himself quietly, eyeing the edge of the lightsaber with an amused grin. He nodded along as she reassured herself that the situation was under her complete control. "Mhm." He confirmed off-handedly, smiling all the same despite the thought lingering in the back of his head that seeded the opposite.

Control was a loose term, to say the least. She had all the control in the world, if that's what she wanted to believe. Lucien had no intention of being hostile. In fact, he was beginning to feel amused by just how easily the woman seemed to be triggered by his teasing. She settled down after the momentary rise in emotions ended, and the lightsaber pointed at him was finally retracted away.

He tapped at his chin for a moment as he considered a response. "I ask myself that sometimes too." Luc shrugged. He knew it was hypocritical, but his life had never been nothing but nuanced. "I dunno-- maybe i'm the worst Jedi you'll ever meet, but I can't bring myself to hate the person for what their ideology has made them." He pointed at the lightsaber tucked between her crossed arms.

"I've got a family full of loyalists, some of them Sith Lords of the newly-branded Eternal. Maybe they hate me for stickin' to my Jedi ways. Hell, I get the same treatment already from enough of my fellow Jedi and Imperials already."

He sighed, drawing his eyes up to the ceiling with a waning in his smile. "I can't change who I am, and the bond we have is more important than where my allegiances stand. I'll do what I must with what i'm given, for those who I love."

​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed



Aradia's brows pulled in, her squirming dying off as she studied the Jedi that spoke unbashedly about his flaws. Her confusion grew thicker, the girl trying to puzzle out the enigma that sat before her.

"You're right," she finally concluded, bursting out of her seat. "You're not like the others, you admit you don't make sense." She left him, pacing back to the screens to check the systems. Everything was unchanged, the storm troopers beyond still following the jedi's order to let him handle this. How long would that hold until they started to suspect this Luc didn't have everything at hand?

And what would they do then? Her gut coiled tight with stress, worsening the itch she had shoved to the side. She didn't need it right now. Right?

As much as she liked to remind him she had control in this moment, it was tenuous. She almost preferred Jedi to yell at her and try to kill her, because that at least she could see through. His calmness, though?

She tossed him a sideways glance, her expression guarded. "...What do you know that I don't?" She asked slowly, a sense of paranoia creeping through her. She took a step towards him, the heels of her boots making a subtle click on the floor. She shot a final look at the screen, nothing appearing off, before leaving it to approach him with slow, meticulous steps.

"Are you hiding something?" She bounced her saber off the meat of her thigh rhythmically, continuing to consider him.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

Through his interactions with Aradia, Lucien had realized that his interactions with the Sith until then had been in a much more limited capacity. Whether it was on the battlefield or during the inception of the New Imperial Order, his vision of the Sith was a far-cry from the individual who now paced back and forth to his front. Once more he shrugged at her response, not even bothering to reply towards the comment about him being different.

Luc knew he was different, whether it was through his heritage or the company he preferred to keep in comparison to his peers. The youngest of the Imperial Warlords possessed the influence that more prominent Imperials had done evil to attain, all the while maintaining most of the principles he had from the start. Well most of them, anyway. Nobody goes into a war as a boy and comes out of it with the same values as before.

So when she questioned him in paranoia, confused by his characteristic sanguine in the presence of a dangerous element, it was merely a reflection of what the boy had became. Luc was a man forged through the fires of war, in possession of a soul that had been tempered through strife and the ideology of Imperial defiance. He'd faced death in the face and survived, resisting the temptation of the dark in spite of the forces that be seemingly guiding him into its direction.

By comparison to his past experiences, his current predicament was metaphorically nothing but a walk in the park. A breather even, from the chaos of warfare going on outside their little bubble.

He shook his head, focusing his gaze upon her eyess with a somber grin curled onto his lips. "Battle plans, Order-of-Battle, classified information.. quite a bit, I'd guess." His response came as lax as the rest. "My full name is Lucien Dooku, Prince and Claimant of the throne of Serenno, Warlord of Nirauan Province, and a Knight of the New Jedi Order." He let out a laugh, picking up on the authority in his tone. "But uhh-- that's a mouthful. Am I hiding somethin' ? Anything? Not particularly. You haven't actually asked me anything in specific. Granted, I'm still liable to say no, but at the least i'm being honest."

Leaning back in his chair once again, Luc checked the monitors off-handedly, scanning his eyes across the screen before resettling them onto Aradia. "It's just me and you, woman. Still haven't told me your name though."​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


Aradia stopped short, her pacing hitting a halt as he listed off his title. Mirth caught in her eyes, breaking up the lines of stress that had been forming in the corners of expression.

He got a ever so slight laugh of disbelief, some of the tension leaving her frame. The energy of the room changed, the girl looking at him for another long moment before something in her just... gave way. She slumped back into her chair, her head shaking as she crossed her arms at him again.

"Why are you doing this? You came to this world to take it-- to invade it. I have you trapped, I have your weapon, I could kill you at any moment and yet-- you're trying to have a conversation with me."

Her shoulders fell in ounce of tired frustration. It was very hard to maintain anger when the thing you hated wouldn't bounce it back. The aggression ceased for a moment, an edge of vulnerability creeping into the gaze that locked onto him like tracking beacon.

"Why."

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

"I dunno. You seemed reasonable enough, and I'm not all that keen on committing violence against women if it ain't necessary."

Was the most honest response he could give her off off the top of his head, accompanying it with that characteristic grin once more. He mused on her question for a moment, considering the handful of reasons that compiled into the reasoning behind his actions. Perhaps if things had gone different, the conversation between the two would never have arose in the first place. It was her inaction, rather than what he assumed was her characteristic desire to act, that prompted it all.

Combined with the appearance of Lyra upon the world, and the lessons he'd learned since joining the Jedi Order, and the perfect grounds were produced for the situation at hand to come into play. Not every enemy needed to be met with a blade in hand, and not every Sith were the lost causes that he'd met throughout the war. He had to believe it- if not for his own sake, but for the sake of Lyra. For the sake of his cousin Adron Malvern , and for the sake of his brother back on Serenno.

"My reasoning for coming onto this world has no bearing upon my reason for wanting to have a conversation with you." He continued, leaning forwards in the chair, focusing his eyes upon her own intently. "You have me trapped, and you do possess my weapon. Our interaction could have ended in my attempted death, or something equally as chaotic, given the circumstances. Yet here we sit, standing at the precipice of a regular conversation, devoid of the notion of you being Sith and I being Imperial, Jedi, or whatever fits the bill. Right now i'm just Lucien, and you're just.."

Luc sighed, rubbing at the back of his head nonchalantly. "A woman who still won't tell her name." ​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


Aradia's expression contorted at the mention of what he was. Imperial. The word sat like poison in her mind, filled with death and needless destruction. Imperial. It was curse. It was pain.

It was everything she sought to overcome.

Her eyes flashed, turning as cold as the sudden wash of darkside that permeated through the energy in the room. "I hate your kind," she nearly growled, holding up the saber hilt in an accusatory point. So much for the conversation being devoid of who they were. She leaned forward, that tension returning to the box-set of her shoulders.

"You can't put down that title for a conversation. And you can't just pick it up again when it's convenient for you-- I don't. I have people that have asked to be in their family. Me-- a fethin slave, picture that." The personal words fell from her lips, defying her life-long drive for privacy as she spilled a little piece of who she was out for the stranger.

If just to make her point.

"But here I am, trapping myself in with your stupid ass, fighting a war that I don't even believe in, because I am a sith above all else. You can take away my peers, my academies, a family-- lovers," she said a pointed look his way. "But you cannot take my actions out of the past. You either are, or you aren't. So what the feth are you, Prince of my Anus. Really, it sounds like it's time for you to decide."

Her fingers tightened over her forearms, the itch turning into a song that had hit her veins. Because there was no turning off who she was.

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

It didn't take much for him to eventually hit a nerve with his words. It seemed as if the mention of Imperial was more than enough to set her off, and Luc didn't dig the issue in with any jest remarks this time around. It wasn't out of fear, as she might've thought, but rather out of a small semblance of respect that the wished to give to his companion for the duration of their lockdown.

She hated Imperials for a reason.

Luc didn't know that reason, but it wasn't surprising to hear that sentiment out loud. There were plenty of individuals whose loyalty to the Sith Empire had never come into question. There were also those who rose from the pits of despair that the Zambrano's crumbling empire had fostered, only to adopt the ways of the Sith at the behest of their "liberators" from oppression.

Many such cases existed on both ends of that spectrum, and neither had experienced the enlightenment that brought the New Imperials to war against the Sith. Lucien couldn't relate with being a slave as she was, but the feeling of despair, of suffering the loss of home and loved ones, were experiences they both shared. Perhaps in another timeline, their roles could've been reversed. Such was the duality of the things, without delving into the intricacies of the force.

He blinked, in any case, dropping his eyes onto the pointed hilt for just long enough to take it into account. Luc's eyes returned to her own, taking in her features without as much of a pause in regard to the aura that permeated off her form. The taint of the dark was heavy, but it was far from the overwhelming presence that Carnifex and Prazutis had embodied. He leaned forth in his chair once more, keeping his eyes locked upon her own.

"I'm just me."

He was defiant until the end, even in the face of certain death. But in the presence of the woman who held him "hostage", empathy and compassion were radiating from his core. A new feeling to him, but one that was certainly present.

"Just some guy with a complicated life, in a complicated galaxy, trying to do right by the ones I love, and maybe find a semblance of normality in the future. I learned the hard way that generalizing yourself into some predefined category will do nothin' for you but hold you down. You speak of loss, but I too have experienced the same pain that's coming off you right now. I've lost my home and my family because of a decision I made to live a life that wasn't predestined by another. My friends were abandoned by me, so I could selfishly go fight back against the Sith. I chose this life-- and just what I am can only be defined as me; Lucien, nothing else."

Luc treaded thin ice with his words. He was direct, but calm in tone. Patience wasn't a virtue he strived for in his life, but an eerie calm had enveloped him as their time together increased.

"You speak of people who wish for you to be part of their family, yet in the same vein I see a woman who's been thrown onto a battlefield with a directive of letting her emotions guide her forwards through the chaos. You're here all alone, minus the exception of myself. You speak of things within the realm of them being absolute truths, with no room for nuance to work with. My life has been nothing but a series of nuanced events, pushing me back and forth, reshaping my principles as the need arise.

You may be a Sith, but do not fool yourself into thinking that it is logical to deal in nothing but absolutes. Be as flexible as the passion within you that ignites your soul into action. Strive to reach the ebb and flow within your psyche, much like the winds of the force itself coalesces all around us. Learn when to channel your rage, and you might find yourself suddenly being open to the little details that may have previously escaped your perception. Emotion-- specifically anger is merely one pillar of strength for you to draw upon, Sith. Strive to attain enough temperance to keep the worst impulses in check, and perhaps you'll figure out just how far one's passion could reach."

He never thought himself much of a teacher, but it seemed right in this moment to impart what wisdom he had onto his advesrary. Luc didn't need to be a Sith to understand the concept of using ones emotions as fuel, for it was his own mixture of passion and anger that allowed him to defy the odds time and time again.

"Your master should've taught you these tenets, if their goal was to craft a student who could one day surpass themselves."

The grin faded away, replaced for once by the cold impassivity that encompassed the rest of his visage.

"...But the essence of control is to remain hidden from view, is it not? To hide the guidance which would lead to yourself being a lethal weapon against both foe and ally alike, it would appear that your betters have done well."
​

​

A sharp slap rang throughout the air, her fingers tingling painfully against the motion her hand had done on its own. She did not withdraw from the space she had intruded, both jedi and sith leaning in across the distance that now felt small.

Intimate.

Her nostrils flared with each breath, a visible struggle flickering over her features as she kept her body locked down. No more striking appendages. Though he deserved it. She seethed against the fury boiling through her, its heat threatening to take over.

But she wouldn't let it. It was her tool, not the other way around.

"My Master is dead," she uttered, condensing Kaalia's step down into something too simple to do it justice. "Speak poorly of her again, and I will

run

you

through."​

She annunciated, ice to her tone as she let every word drop from her lips like a pebble into a lake.

*hit written with permission from Lucien Dooku

 

[Djorn Bline]

P U N I S H E D _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
GENERIS
ARMOR | PRIMARY | SECONDARY | MELEE | GRENADES

PLEADER​

Everything was being a gambled on the one thing people like the Jedi and champions of democracy placed on when pursuing dissident ideas that was the polar opposite of Imperialism.

Hope.

He never had much optimism in that idea, obviously something an Imperial like him would sneer at, but it was hardly pragmatic to believe in. Now? It didn’t matter. He did it for her. Hoping this would be enough to show signs of a miracle that the woman he knew behind that parasite that corrupted her would resist and fight back. Was there anxiety, fear within him? Slightly, but would stand in defiance against those emotions and stand his ground. Fear was a powerful weapon the Sith instilled in the hearts of many, but those who defied it with an iron will was more powerful than that. Snake knew there had to be some defiance within the Jedi.

Without moving a step where he stood, he only looked at the blonde as she walked slowly towards him with her face free from the symbiote coated around her body. He could only react to what would happen, and not act preemptively. That wouldn’t help in the slightest if he wanted her back. A whim of hope and trust he placed in this form of the blonde. Closing the distance her hand reached for his bionic hand, his entire left arm disintegrated when he tried to stop Eldaah and save Loske. He accepted her, the digits holding her own; metal and flesh conjoined. There was some sense of peace between them, a peace he hoped wasn’t false. She seemed...relax? Breathing profoundly near his presence. Maybe she remembered something between them? A bright memory they had out of many.

"I would rather not die, so fighting would be a good option for that. I don't know what is going on but I ain't escaping capture to just get killed by the Sith!"

The presence of the Twi’lek was acknowledged, but that wasn’t his focus. Who was she? Maybe a local that resented the Sith’s occupation on Generis which explained why she was in this area of engagement. Ultimately, she mattered little when compared to Loske, nor would he attack her. A different entity used Loske as a vessel, but anything he did would only hurt her.

Bare hands pulled on his jawline to keep his eyes on the Jedi. Both of them staring into each other as if peering inside their souls.

“You need to save us to save you.”

Cryptic, not understanding what she truly meant with those words. What did he need saving from? There was plenty to save him. An enigmatic man to Loske and to some others, but he was a destructive man. A life of war and conflict he lived everyday, fueled by emotional trauma and a lust for vengeance from his pain. Through that fire, however, he believed to find peace.

“Who do you see? What would be coming back to you, Djorn?”

Both of his hands reached for hers that were still grabbing his jawline, wanting to hold them.

“The same woman that I know, the real you. You’re not what that damn b*tch wants you to be, Loske. You’re not a demon.”

In fact, the actual demon between them was him. All that blood on his hands could never be washed away. Choices he acted upon his free will. The Jedi before him was forced into this shell that was a far cry of her former self. A pawn that did the bidding of Raaf.

“You’re better than this, we both know that. You’re more than this.”

“Loske.”

Then his hands released the Jedi’s and placed themselves on her jawline.

“Come with me. I didn’t protect you on Ziost, but I’m here now. We can free you from this nightmare.”

“Please.”

His face was pleading, like talking to a loved one. Eyes searching for a trace of Loske behind that curtain of darkness.

ALLIES | NIO | GA | Rika Hiro | Don Belkora | Kelig Ward | Jax Sloane
ENEMIES | TSE | Eira Dwynwen | Loske Treicolt

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

POST IX
THE_CLAYMORE

1st GALIDRAANI ARMOURED-VOLUNTEER BRIGADE
2nd BATTALION,"THE BLUE-HEARTS"

OBJECTIVE 1: Generis Base | ORCC

ALLIES (NIO/GA): Rurik Fel Djorn Bline Willan Tal Lucien Dooku
Konrad Bolter Jax Sloane Loros Kalaric Nima Appw'rii Kelig Ward Halketh
Jiosha Relawny Rika Hiro Don Belkora Arten Jinn Noel Strasza Sol Stazi Brama Tagge

ENEMIES (TSE): Eira Dwynwen The Amalgam Darth Daiara Eleena Salwa Loske Treicolt

CALLSIGN: BLUE-HEART ALPHA

Custom Blaster-Pistol | Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore

THREE WAVES OF NEW IMPERIAL FURY - FIRST WAVE

Exchanging a muttered unison of,'For the Empire.', before the giant enemy domed-cell dragged the Lord-Major away from his new acquaintance, it was obvious that these officers (and their skillsets) would work well as a temporary team against their latest contingent of foes to the south. Even as the deep, gut-thumping boom brought the Amalgam's gigantic energy-field dome to life, both Barran and Sloane knew their methodologies would work well in accordance with each other's, so Lord-Erskine would respectfully decide to keep himself muted on the speeder-bike squad's comm-channels, and give instructions for all the Blue-Hearts' radio-operators to follow suit.

Drawing closer to the giant dome of wispy shadow, gaining ground on their southward push to reach Konrad Bolter, the Blue-Heart commanders in the Lord-Major's ACV were exchanging banter and possible strategies for the impending fight with the Amalgam. All whilst watching the field-surgeon's progress with kudos given to Coyle's work, and in abundance as he finished working on the head-injuries, both the through-and-through wounds at the top of Commander Sloane's left-pectoral, and was just about to start working on when Jax stirred from semi-consciousness for the second time to inject himself with painkiller-stims; whilst kindly waving off the field-surgeon with a curt,'I got this', before easing the pain in his lower-thighs and knees with the stim to the lesser-wounded side of his abdomen.

'I don't plan on being deadweight, Major.', Jax continued, seeing Barran had dropped down from the ACV's LMG-turret, and using the interior's ceiling-grips as climbing-bars to pass Erskine by with the intent to take the Lord-Major's spot. Seeing that Commander Sloane had already made peace with his decision to let Jax use the ACV's turret, Lord Erskine had nodded kindly assent by the time Sloane concluded,'I'd like to take the gun up top. Sir.', at the base of the ladder the led to the LMG itself. The ACV's crew-roster had never looked so prestigious, and not even the G-Company CSM could deny that the morale-boost it was giving them was noticeably abundant, seeing the driver, the Lord-Major and the speeder-bike commander in their element, manning their stations with a highly-visible sense of hypervigilance.

'Milord, stop the ACV. I think it's best if I lead G-Company from the front, even if it means doubling back a half-mile to find them. Good luck, lads!'

<"Speeders -- screen the advance. We don't know what's on the other side of that dome.">

'Fair enough, Rhone. Gid luck oot there, yer prolly gawnty need it mare than oor lot this time!'

<"Right away, sir-">

<"-Cautiously -- Get in, get out.">

THREE WAVES OF NEW IMPERIAL FURY - SECOND WAVE I

Roughly five miles out from Konrad Bolter's position, the growing auditory overload of blaster-fire exchanges and explosions in the south were intensifying as Sloane and Barran approached closer to the 2-kilometer marking of their first smoothbore salvo; Sloane's 74-Z Speeders would advance on The Amalgam's contingent first, doing their best to offer quick and illusive harrying-actions whilst Kalaric's walkers tried to keep pace with G-Company as the unlikely officer-trio's third wave of aggression. And to make matters appear more-fortunate for the makeshift NIO battle-group since beginning their advance southwards, the black dome they had been vectoring towards had suddenly dissipated by the time Sloane's speeder-bike's reconnoitring efforts had caught sight of it's architect, but this also prompted a sharp (though brief) retreat from the treeline to await further orders from their slower-approaching commander.

'Just under four miles t'go, Sloane! We'll give these Sith-Imperials a dose of the smoothbores very soon! Heh! Who knows? Maybe you'll pop a few o' the devils with the LMG on our way in. Now wouldn't that be a laugh?'

The orders to engage in harrying efforts fortunately didn't take long to reach them, as Jax knew exactly what such efforts would mean for Konrad's depleted Walker contingent, so the 74-Z model speeders burst forth from the treeline as soon as the order was given, and without a moment's hesitation to hinder the impetus of their advance. Sloane's second-in-command would lead the charge with confidence in the Lord-Major's ability to cover ground quickly, self-assured that all four of the remaining Cataphracts would provide the perfect cover in time for their first feigned-retreat of the fight against the Amalgam.

'Barran to C-C Six! We're two kilometers in, load up with the high-explosive shells! Ammo-cache we found didn't offer much, but four explosions is better than none, agreed?'

<"Agreed, Milord. We still have a mixture of depleted carbonite-rockets and a few armour-piercing smooth-bore shells each. Plenty for this next bit, but I'd recommend we fix bayonets as a precaution for a potentially drawn-out slugfest. All aside, mechanised Sith-Imperial targets have been identified, an' we're zero'd in. C-C Six out!">

Switching to the C-C comm-channels, ACV One would hear the consequent clear fire-orders given by Staff-Sergeant Edmonds, followed by four blasts (from the ACV's left auditory-periphery to it's right) of the Cataphract smoothbores; the delay would feel like an age before the recognisable metallic clanging of their direct-hits could be heard echoing back at them, punching through the armoured-plating with dull clanks, followed by the deep, steely bursts of fiery destruction from within. Though they were much too far away from the hostilities yet, the second and third waves of attack against the Amalgam's contingent knew there would be the audible screams of Sith-Imperial troopers when they eventually got closer to the action; fortunately for the second-wave, only the frontline's speeder-bikes would be able to hear the burning agony of their adversaries.

'Barran to C-C Six! Order the APCs an' Cataphracts to move in! We can see Kalaric's contingent behind us now, making it safe to move up!'

<"Copy that, Milord. But do take note that one o' Lord Lucien's Myrmidon-platoons is dropping in on your current position, an' there's nae use in spurning infantry support at this point o' the op! C-C Six out!">
Duly noted, Edmonds. Ah'll take any an' aw advice that might help me the noo, any that could keep us in the fight....

​

​

 

[Lucien Dooku]

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Darth Daiara // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
[VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]

---

---

The sting of her palm lingered upon his cheek, reddening it to a shade that nearly matched the fiery color of her hair. His words had struck deeper than he wished, although the outcome given was one he'd accept nonetheless. He spoke the truth, regardless of it she wanted to hear it or not. The revelation of her master's fate had struck a cord with him, similar to the experiences the two shared in other departments as well. He didn't fault the woman for striking him, though the action in itself was all the proof he needed to point to his advice as being more truer than she'd like.

An eerie silence enveloped the two for a time. Closer to eachother than ever before, Luc didn't seem phased at all by the hostile demeanor being put on display. Instead the cold visage toned itself down over time, shifting into a somber visage as the silence was ended by his words. "I'm sorry for your loss, if it means anything to you."

He remained in place, letting the woman occupy his bubble for as long as she wished, ensuring his gaze would remain stationary upon her own in spite of the slap that came before. "My master, the Jedi who taught me the ways of the force. He fell to the dark side after abandoning me to my fate. Tempted by the boons offered, and casting his Padawan into a den of wolves. I chased him down for years, but not before the disgraced noble son had to abandon his Jedi code to live. Learn to kill to survive, and call the underworld his home."

Lucien stood up from the chair, only a step necessary for the space between the two of them to become nearly nonexistent. "And when I found him, you know what he offered me in return? Temptation to the dark side, or simply death."

A hand moved slowly towards her shoulder, and he would rest it there if she let him.

"I killed him, or he let me kill him, as a means to an end within his schemes. I murdered my own master with the very same lightsaber that you tucked within your robes. I've felt the temptation, woman. Tasted the same power you strive for through this unrelenting rage you carry. I won't pretend I know the struggle you've gone through, but I understand the pain you're feeling right now."




​

 

[Dante Corvus]

M Y R M I D O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LORD-COMMANDER OF THE 173RD. LEGION "MYRMIDONS"

War never changed, and war never ended, the only thing that changed was the terrain and the enemy.

In the aftermath of the Maw's invasion of Nirauan, there was no rest or respite for the Legions of the Empire. The war machine continued on as it did, ever vigilant to the tendrils of the Sith Empire that remained active in spite of their defeat. Their lingering presence had grown to be far more of an annoyance than anything capable of drawing the full might of the Imperials upon them, but nonetheless, the Myrmidons were called upon to serve their Empire once more.

The armed forces of Nirauan were admittedly hesitant; the rank-and-file had just finished seeing their homes being invaded, ransacked, and destroyed. Many of their comrades had died in the ferocious fighting that followed the Maw's landing, and many more lay wounded, teetering on the brink of death.

Casualties of the neverending conflict that defined the Imperial way of life.

Yet through this hesitance, there were those who stood defiant, even in the face of their families and comrades being lost. The Legion stood tall above the others, cut from a crop that proved resistant to the horrors of battle that shook other men to the core. Dante rallied the Myrmidons in the aftermath of Nirauan, calling upon his brothers to take their time to grieve if necessary, but as always, be ready. He knew that no victory or loss would ever truly be the end of things, not when the enemies of the Empire remained abundant, even in their defeat.

​

---

TEMPEST
OBJ I | OPEN

The skies above the battlefield were quiet, yet far beneath them, a chorus of ordinance exploded across the terrain, rippling through attackers and defenders alike. Once more the Imperials threw themselves into the breach, focusing down the Sith defenders' positions with sheer determination, and the trademark defiance that defined their way of life.

An echelon marked the path through the skies to his rear, trailing behind their Lord Commander whilst he surveyed the frontlines pointedly, observing the defenders' positions while taking into account the status of the various offensives being launched. The Myrmidons, despite answering the Imperator's call, would not throw themselves to their deaths, no matter their willingness to deliver the Imperator's grace upon their enemies. Dante wouldn't allow it, not with memories of Nirauan so fresh upon the mind of his men, and the losses their Legion suffered having been nowhere near replenished.

His eyes darted across his HUD, observing the masses of friendly blips advancing against hostiles, watching and waiting for their allies to make a dent into the fortified enemy lines. Seconds turned into minutes as the Myrmidons soared through the skies undetected, masking their formation through the clouds until the moment came for them to act.

A formation had reached the enemy's fortifications eventually, their losses heavy, yet sustainable enough to hold their position. His second-in-command alerted him to their request for reinforcements, and Dante did not hesitate to order his adjutant to respond immediately that it'd been granted.

Puncturing through the clouds at once, the echelon that followed him plummetted towards the ground with high-speed precision, performing synchronous waning and weaving to avoid the batteries of anti-air that began firing upon their descent. Their efforts proved ill-timed, having spotted the descending formation far too late for their weapons to be of any effect upon the arrow-formation that fell upon them at breakneck speeds.

The collision that followed proved an effective display of what the Myrmidons did best. Thunderous landings dispersed the Myrmidons through the unfortunate lines of defenders, wrought with confusion and chaos as the Imperial elite brought to death and terror upon them with merciless intent. Dante himself landed behind the primary bunker pinning down their allies, weaving his vibro-axe through unexpecting bodies, eviscerating a path clear to the inside of the bunker. Rifle butts and bladed weapons fell upon him, intent on bringing down the lone warrior who hulked above them without fear of their numbers. His axe cut through their numbers once more, biting at the air with tendrils of electricity, reducing the defenders into nothing more than scattered piles of viscera and discarded weapons.

He exited the bunker much like he entered, sheathing his axe back onto his hip as he surveyed the scene around him. An eerie quiet enveloped their small section of the frontlines, much of the defenders being cut down where they stood, or run down on their inevitable retreat. His second-in-command descended next to him, awaiting orders once more, his armor ever-so-bloodied, a mark of honor within the Legion.

"Reinforcements are inbound to hold this location, Commander. No casualties on our end."

The adjutant spoke up, detached from the carnage spread around both his and Dante's feet.

"Good."

He replied, followed up by the familiar idle humming of his jetpack growing energetic by the second. His feet lifted off the ground, the sight of their Commander drawing the Myrmidons' attention.

"Blow the bunker. We move out in five."
​

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

T H E _ W O L F
104th MARINE RAIDERS 'WOLFPACK'
OPERATION : STRANGLEHOLD
ELIDIBUS-CLASS SITH DREADNOUGHT
Armor | Vambraces | Concord Brawn | Lightsaber | Pistol
Eldaah Aderyn | CLOSED

---

---

---

IN A HEARTBEAT
​

<"The Jedi!"> The vitriolic bark of another Sith Legionnaire shouted down as he fired a pulse of the particle beam rifle toward the Concordian. The composite chest plate ate the blows in earnest before he extended his arm out to will the Sith trooper to him with a violent snap of his arm. A swing of his cobalt blade severed the head from his shoulders. That rage barely tempered. All honed beneath the metal visage he donned. The first wave that Raaf sent to interdict Maynard and his wolves seemed...parceled, disorganized...chaff for the slaughter.

Sloppy, none of the fingerprints of the work of the Lady of Secrets. Or perhaps...that's exactly what it was. The light embrace to pull him into the dark depths...and the knife in the dark to the throat. That was when the den of beasts was fully unfurled. The Wolves drawn into the depths only to be enveloped in the shadows. Soon came the Sith spawn. The hordes of hellspawned beasts beared down unto the Pack. The losses were immediate, the conventionally trained and equipped Marines without the full toolset to combat these beasts properly. Never the less, there was no snuffing out their will in these steel corridors.

<"General! Get to the hangar! We'll cover you!"> One of the Wolfpack troopers barked out. They knew the mission, the aim, the objective. These Sithspawn were only stop gaps, a feint to conceal the throat from the blade. The dregs, the winged beasts, all of them saw a strike of equal retribution to their arrival. Flame troopers were rushed up to the front ahead of the rest of the Pack to take the initial blow of the charge with the coverage of heavy repeater fire between the conal waves of infernal fury that beared down over the wave of approaching beasts.

Now, the path was clear. As Amon Vizsla and his unit carved their way to the hyperdrive with fire and fury, Maynard set out on his sole aim with an indomitable spirit, unbreakable determination.

Only The Beginning, she said.

It didn't merit a response.

She heralded the beginning, he'd show her the end.

His icy gaze shielded beneath the helm. Acted as a shield it might've, but it spelled nothing divergent from what he'd give otherwise. Fear inoculated, anger tempered. Only the instinctive compulsion to execute. He sliced opened the control panel of the lift before willing the door open with a pull of grueling strength. On the other side, the daunting vertical corridor. Ascension his sole aim.

He gazed along the walls, metallic greebling of exposed mechanics and operating system embedded within an otherwise featureless tube. That would be his path. He snuffed out the cobalt blade by his own will, stepping out into the abyss before firing a pulse from his jetpack, ascending through the shaft before clasping ahold of an exposed panel along the wage.

Then, began the climb. He ascended with a pace and frantic primacy that willed him up each stretch with a determined pace. A few pulses of his pack and another stretch up the vertical corridor and he'd reached the closest he'd ever get, an aimless fling of his saber willed through the force lashed out and bore into the panel near the next door, forcing the metal jaws open as he jumped up and retrieved it back into his grip with the same motion.

The rest of the way was quiet. So quiet he could hone in on his own breathing, his mortal shell. Realize exactly where he was within the confines of the universe as a whole. Within the Force.

He knelt down unto both knees before the entrance to the command bridge. He calmed his breathing for a moment, screwed his eyes shut before that was all there was. In that luminous state...he could detach himself from his own being, absorb himself in the spaces between spaces, all the dwelled within the Universe. The Force.

In that fabric, he was able to find her again. And through that tether, he spoke.

To Loske Treicolt

"Don't let go...where ever you are. I'm almost there." He said before the tether snapped again and his eyes shot open.

It was time to hunt.

He stood up, the door opening before him as he clutched the saber in his right hand, now rendered mechanical.

Slowly, he paced with metallic thuds beneath his steps toward the figure standing at the head of the bridge.

The very same he relented mercy toward.

The very same which sold Loske to the symboite. Shursia.

With its distinctive snap, the cobalt blade came to life in a bright ignition.

The Wolf was here.

<"Not who I was looking for...but close enough."> Was all he said before he fired another pulse from his jetpack, surging toward her with death in his eyes, aiming to swipe the blade toward her center mass and thus truly...begin the dance.