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

[Enyo Typhos]

Allies: TSE
Enemies: NIO/GA
Kaska Arden
Equipment: Armour, Rifle, Grenades, Sidearm 1, Sidearm 2, Sabre, Ion Paddle Beamer, Cryo-Ban Gun.

In almost the same moment as when Enyo's power burst from her, the Jedi struck. Her laser sword suddenly soared in length and cut through the air. The Terminatrix saw the blade coming. Her functioning eye could expertly calculate its trajectory and speed. Her calculation was rapid, and she followed through with her strike. She could not dodge in time and she was not positioned to intercept and strike. And so the Jedi was sent flying and the lightsabre carved across the machine-woman's body.

Her armour, already damaged by concussive impact, sonic attacks and, perhaps most crucially, a reflected cryoban torrent, was not equipped to offer much resistance. Enyo's old suit could outright tank a lightsabre attack, but this newer one had traded exceptional resistance for mobility and flexibility. Her endoskeleton was already made of Phrik, after all.

Furthermore, there was thermodynamics to consider. With the sudden temperature change from extremely cold to extremely hot, brittle plating shattered. Her armour experienced fractures across her torso. The laser sword tore through her shoulder with a fury, chewing deep into the shoulder. Synthflesh was burnt away and blazing heat surged through her.

Her left shoulder was a mess of metal, cooked synthflesh and exposed wires. Sparks flew from it. Her arm had been cleaved off at the elbow, leaving behind a stump. The damage to her hip had left her with a stooped posture. Her body twitched. She did not spare the lost appendage a glance. She still had one arm, after all.

Her good eye flashed crimson when she looked upon her foe's broken body and heard her laboured breathing. "You have fought bravely," Enyo remarked. There was neither mockery nor warmth in her bland tone. She had never been type for what Sith called Dun Möch and which in her experience was just a chance for them to bloviate. It was a matter-of-fact observation.

Then the ceiling above the Jedi started to shudder as she exerted her power upon it. With all the damage her organic shell had sustained, it took effort and the power of her crystal to summon the energies needed. It was tempting to just walk over and finish her off, but who knew, the Jedi might be the suicidal type and have a hidden thermal detonator. Much like a crazy Mandalorian who had worn a bomb with a deadman's trigger at a would-be Mandalore's coronation.

And so Enyo exerted her telekinetic will upon the ceiling in order to bring it crashing down around the Jedi and turn the building into her tomb. If she survived, she would be stronger for it. If not, she had still been a worthy opponent.

 

[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

"Compromise and... put that thing down? One on one, body against body?"

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Her head tilted, a wry smile curving her lips.

"Oh, look, it talks." It. Like Marcis wasn't human like her... or as if humans were objects, unlike it. There was a thoughtful expression there as Violet considered Marcis' proposal and him inching away at the same time. Truth to be told she didn't have time for this. Him running away, her chasing and leaving Dagon behind. It was better to end this quickly, smarter and safer.

we cant trust it

Perhaps not, but sometimes risks had to be taken.

A shrug there. "Why not." The saber disintegrated on the spot. The green fire melting back into her skin, lighting up veins before they returned back to normal. She took one step forward.... into the embrace of Sorr's sleeping rune. It flared up into action almost immediately. A pillar of fire rising up, greasy and hungry, covering her up toe to head and above.

For a moment there was nothing but that sizzling fire.

Then a burning figure stepped out of the flames. Emerald shine bathing her skin, protecting her.... mostly. Parts of her shoulder, her right leg, the cloth was burned up there and the skin blackening.

"That.... was a mistake." Violet howled in barely suppressed pain. Her mind covered in mossy swamp, protected from the pain ravaging her body. There was only the Light. There was only Serenity. As Marcis prepared himself for her to leap towards him? It did not come. Not physically at least. Instead her mind reached out, crossing the distance between them in a single breath and crashed into his skull.

To puncture his mental defenses, to ravage, to mangle and destroy.

She used that pain in her body, drawing from it without letting it cloud her judgement, unleashing it onto Sorr.

"You do not deserve your mind, Sith." Violet murmured impassively. It echoed between them. Cascading within his skull. "I will take it from you now."

All the while the fire kept burning.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, where the parasite could not touch, a thin reedy voice was screaming.

But it did not matter for now.

Maybe not ever.

 

[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
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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]

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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."
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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 Perl '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."
​

​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


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

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."




​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


Her head turned in incremental ticks, her attention turning onto the hand that laid across her bony shoulder. She was small. It could be felt through the material that billowed out around her. Thick, ropey scars peaked out around the high collar of her shirt, her neck riddled with the marks of chains that were no longer there. The muscles in her jaw flexed, the danger of the moment screaming through her nerves. And yet, she did not pull away, the girl bracing against the fear her body pumped through her.

'-temperance to keep the worst impulses in check,'

"You don't know how I feel." She told him, speaking with that same slow exactness. "Your side is winning. You have nothing to lose. Nothing precious that will be taken. Here, or at the next place. You can come and conquer and it costs you nothing. You don't know what defeat feels like. You don't know what it's like to watch your world fall into instability. You don't know." She looked up at him then, her expression condensing into pinched lines.

"I have lost everything because of your kind. Because of you-- being here... To prepare for the next hit." She stood up, her saber hissing to life. The heat bore down on them both, threatening to blister the skin at the neck she held it up to. Her eyes turned wild, the red plasma reflecting across the blue orbs. Gold flecks seemed to glow, pulsing with the energy she drew into herself as she bore him down.

"Killing you fixes everything."

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

---

---

His eyes were brought to a close as his hand rested against the woman's shoulder, and the familiar heat that emanated off her lightsaber sat right at the edge of tolerance near his skin. She was partially right to say that he could not understand how she felt, given the context behind her meaning. The New Imperial Order had undeniably put the Sith Empire on the backfoot, and through their efforts the crumbling Empire would see plenty of their worlds liberated from the tyranny of the Sith. The Third-Imperial Civil War had been waged for several years, and all those involved were keenly aware that the Order had no intention of stopping until a death blow had truly been dealt. The mission had to be finished, no matter the cost it took to reach that point.

But that was also where the Sith was wrong.

Lucien had seen comrade after comrade fall over the course of the war. Men who had become brothers-in-arms were lost in an instant, reduced to nothing but a lifeless fragment of what they once had been. Good men with dreams and ambitions outside of the war, driven to defect from the Sith-Imperials or volunteering for service of their own volition. Her story was uniquely hers in regards to the role she possessed within the tale, but the pain and struggle that she felt was not hers alone.

Worlds were engulfed all across the Braxant Front with each triumphant victory the overwhelmed New Imperials tore away from the Sith. Millions were left homeless, robbed from their home worlds until the radiation could be scrubbed. Thousands more perished as a result of these scorched earth tactics, but the pain being delivered across the region was nearly universal for those being liberated from the Sith.

They were all valid points he could've brought up in response, but Luc chose the route of keeping his mouth shut. She had so much pain circulating through those veins; Luc could feel it as a consequence of the hand resting on her shoulder, his mind reaching through the force to try and understand the feelings she was experiencing more clearly.

He understood why she was filled with rage. Luc had been in similar shoes once upon a time, and he dwelled on the scenario where perhaps he too fell to the corruption that tainted her mind. It infused itself within her essence, threatening to engulf every part of her being until not a single piece of the original woman was left. There were worse fates than death in his opinion, with fully being corrupted by the dark side of the force being among the top three.

But the woman was not so far gone, or else he was certain that he would've felt nothing but bleakness when his flesh met her own. The light may have been severely extinguished, but he was certain that she was not destined to be a ball of rage for the remainder of her life. She needed help, but not the kind that many of his peers within the Jedi Order were willing to provide.

She needed guidance, much like the advice that rolled off his tongue just moments before. Luc pondered on the thought, considering his options on what to do. He wouldn't act hasty, despite his desire to help the woman out. For now he'd continue to drag the situation out, focusing his attention between her and the other woman who also occupied his head space.

"I don't think you get it." Eventually he had to say something, as remaining in his head wouldn't keep the woman docile. "Killing me wouldn't solve your issues. Truth be told, my death would potentially be the catalyst that other factions within the Order could use to convince the Imperator to implement far more...aggressive methods of dealing with the Sith and those who oppose our Empire. Killing me right here would only provide the spark that's necessary to ramp the nuances of our war into a full scale conflict to exterminate the Zambrano's dying Empire." He shrugged, narrowing his eyes at Aradia with the beginnings of a grin returning to his lips.

"You could slaughter a thousand of our men and we'd still push forwards. And even worse-- you still wouldn't be any closer to controlling your emotions, and y'know- preserving your life. A violent death is the only thing that awaits your future, given your actions and the way you currently are. You need temperance-- and I don't mean the shite you'll hear from the Jedi Orders. Stick to what you believe if you wish, but the dark side will ruin you, if you embrace the illusion of increased potential that it offers. The force is a tool, nothing more and nothing less. Potential, and the will to deploy it is all the force is in the end."

His hand slipped off her shoulder, tracing down the length of your arm until it settled on top of her own hand. A bold move considering the circumstances, but he did so without a hint of fear within the sharp gaze meeting her eyes. It wrapped around her hand, guiding the hilt closer to the skin on his neck until the searing heat threatened to do more than make him uncomfortable.

"My master use to tell me that It’s not an easy thing to put a gun to your own head, even if you do wish to die. To do so when you possess the desire to live must take the will of a demon, and nothing less. I am resolved to live and find the normality I crave within the life i've been granted, but neither am I afraid to embrace the other side, if that is the road I eventually have to walk.”


​

Objective 1: The Station
Enemy: Lucien Dooku | closed


Confliction. That's what he'd feel as he tried to listen in. She was a mass of contradictory emotions. Fear, yet... emptiness. Anger ... softened by edges of vulnerability. She was ruled by an aching desire for validation-- a need to heal what could not be fixed. If she did, maybe that would make her feel whole again. Maybe the pieces of herself that were already corroding away would come back. Her existence was composed of desperate maybes, the darkside giving her the strength to see each of them through. There was hope inside of her suffering.

All she had to do was kill him.

She struggled against the urge, his warning striking a vein of caution. Anyone would say anything to avoid death, still... her hand shook, singeing hairs at the end of the blade. Countless eyes flashed through her mind-- condemning her to the end of their encroaching blades. Phantom attacks flashed across her vision-- blue, green, orange slashes biting for purchase on her body as those eyes... those Jedi eyes. Their lips moved, their accusations combining with the harsh whispers of the force, the cacophony--

Kill him. Monster. Take it. You're not worth it. Do i-

"Enough!" The corruptive the tension exploded. Her arm whipped out, embedding her saber into the neck of the console next to him. The metal crashed to the ground in sparks.

She held out her hand. Tendrils of the force moved to wrap around his throat, tightening quickly.

"I've had enough," she uttered, half crazed. If given the chance, the restricting tendrils would lift him up... and whip him into the wall.

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

---

---

Intense emotion flowed freely between their connection, flooding his mind with the rising emotions that accompanied the images flashing behind his eyes. She was lost within a sea of confliction as he opened himself up to her thoughts, peering down into her eyes whilst an uncontrollable wave of emotion battered against his mind with each second that passed. Even for someone like himself who'd conquered most of the demons within his past, the amalgamation of her thoughts and feelings thrashed about in his head with the intensity of a wounded Rancor.

It sparked a fire within his own mind through the incandescent rage she exuded, drawing his attention fully away from the blistering heat of her blade and further into the recesses of his defiant psyche. The corruption spreading through her veins threatened to infect him, and he sure it would've done so to a Jedi of lesser caliber than himself.

His own battles against the darkness within his soul had inevitably shaped him into the man he was in the present. No longer was he incapable of facing his demons on his own. He couldn't afford to lose himself again, not after coming so far in his quest to defy what fate had set in stone for him. He promised himself that he'd be defiant until the end, forever holding onto the people who found their way into his heart. Lyra still needed him, and so did Auteme. He made a promise to both those women for different reasons altogether, and Luc planned on fulfilling them both.

Nothing could stop that, not even the raging young woman who exceeded her boiling point at last.

Her passion ignited into action, the rising sparks erupting off the ruptured console to his side drawing him out of his psyche and once more back into the real. He felt the corruption pervading every aspect of her being, sensing the encroaching taint welling up from within before it was directed towards the Jedi's impassive presence. Tendrils of corruption enveloped his form, hoisting the Jedi into the arm as they constricted around his body, twisting upwards until they clenched around his throat.

Another surge of energy burst forwards from the Sith, the tendrils heaving him backwards into the wall behind the now destroyed console. The impact knocked the wind out of him as his body indented into the wall, solidifying him in place. To the Sith it would appear that the Jedi had been delivered a significant blow-- whether to his physical or even his ego. He remained silent once more, his head dipped down and motionless, the visage of his face veiled by the falling dust that surrounding him.

Lucien tilted his head forwards just high enough for the glint within his eye to pierce forwards towards Aradia. Movement followed next, his body shifting within the indentation, his arms being freed first through the strength of his will alone.

"You're not far gone just yet, but I don't believe you fully heeded my words from earlier."

That devilish grin returned to his lips. He pulled his legs free, landing on the ground amidst the debris accompanying him on the way down. His presence within the force expanded in that instant, no longer being suppressed now that the woman had been pushed into action. Pressure exuded from all around him, enveloping the room with the full weight of his own emotions, offsetting the explosive anger that embodied her hatred towards the Jedi. Luc sauntered forwards once more, taking the opportunity to roll his shoulders and crack his neck from side to side.

"...The essence of control is to remain hidden from view."

He continued on, wiping dust and debris from his jacket along the way. Neither the Light or the Dark held a monopoly over his presence. Though impassive in his features, beneath the apathy existed a smoldering fire which fueled the pressure being permeated off his body. An arm extended outwards towards Aradia, the open palm being brought to a close as his lightsaber gravitated from beneath the fabric, accelerating towards his hand as if it were returning to his grip upon instinct.

Luc playfully flipped the weapon in the air, catching it each time in unison with his approaching steps. "It doesn't take a Sith to engage in this philosophy, just as disarming myself doesn't mitigate my ability to control this situation." He wagged his hand at her, displaying the hilt that firmly rested in his grip. Once more his arm moved down towards his waist, and the lightsaber resumed its normal activity of being clipped to his belt. "A lightsaber is nothing more than a tool. But remember the weakness of weapons."

He jerked his arm backwards, thrusting a closing palm in the direction of Aradia. The building shook from its foundation as the wall behind Aradia was consumed by his projection of the force, collapsing inward until nothing but piles of brittle debris remained. Air circulated through the inside of the room for the first time since the lockdown, and to her surprise there would be no stormtroopers attempting to storm the breach. Their orders had been clear enough; stay out of his way, no matter what happened to the building or its occupants.

Lucien came to a halt as the last of the debris rained down onto the floor. Once more he occupied her personal space, gazing at the woman without fear of retribution for the brazen show of force that he just displayed. "They are an extension-- it is you who are the killer and destroyer. You are whole, with or without them." ​

Satisfaction bubbled warmly through her, the wall giving way to the impact of the Jedi's body. For a moment there was no doubting it. He was dead. Chills crept across her skin, the only reaction she had time to process before he moved again... And pulled himself out of the wall. Unharmed.

Shock cut through the apprentice, her glare soften by widening eyes as his presence unfurled into the air around her. She took an unintentional step back, her body hitting another console as he sauntered her way. He took back his saber-- she tugged on it in turn, a desperate edge to the battle of wills that teen inevitably lost.

He had years on her, a fact she had overlooked when the situation had seemed so thoroughly in her control. It wasn't anymore, and he reminded her of that as he lit up his saber.

She hastily brought hers into position, the power she had sunk into doing little to turn her cold or meticulous just yet. She sucked in quick breaths, steadying herself for a --

The walls blew out around her, the jedi's power overbearing against her mind. She gritted her teeth against it, barely finding the strength of will to keep track of her feet as everything crunched and crumbled under his assault. The world fell silent as quickly as it had fallen apart, a soft breeze bringing dust across her face as wires sparked dangerously around them. He stood before her, inches away, past her precious guard and well into her weak spots.

Her legs let out, her butt plopping on top of the console at waist level.

"Who are you really?" She breathed, holding her own off defiance alone. She raised her chin, striving to drive her master's authority into shoulders. "And what are you doing in a measly outpost?"

 

[Alina Tremiru]

Objective: Secure the Rakatan Temple, Kill anyone that gets in the way
Location: Outside the Rakatan Temple
Equipment: Lightsaber
Allies: TSE
Enemies: NIO / GA
Tags: Darth Strosius | Viers Connory | Viera

There it was. The turning point in any fight. A moment of weakness or misstep that would lead to the fall of one combatant. In this case it was Alina's ability seeming to catch the Jedi off guard, given her attempt to use the Force anyway. She'd of grinned if the temple wasn't currently falling down around them. In truth, she was more worried about what might be happening to her companion in this fight. With all the dust she hadn't been able to keep track of what exactly was happening on his end.

So if she wanted to help him, this needed to end. She wasn't anywhere near as fast as she could be. Her focus was instead on keeping Viers from being able to properly commune with the Force. Which meant Alina couldn't either. Trying to multitask now would lead to her own misstep. Still, her Sangnir nature had her close the distance quickly. She brought the lightspear around in a quick slash, aiming for the padawan's outstretched hands. Not a wound she wished on the poor young woman, but if Alisteri was in trouble, she couldn't hold back.

 

[Viers Connory]

//: G E N E R I S //:
//: Allies //: Viera //:
//: Engaging //: Alina Tremiru //: Darth Strosius //:
//: F I N A L _ C O U N T D O W N //:

​

There wasn’t much for Viers to do; she could hear the Vampire girl make her way towards her. Without the Force and without her sabers in her hands, it only made her a sitting duck. Doing the only thing she could think of, she gripped the dirt under her hand and pulled the back. As the attack missed her hands, she threw two handfuls of dirt towards Alina’s face as she yelled, “DISTRACTION ACTION!”​

Pulling her feet back under her, a leg swung out to sweep the large toothy woman off her feet. Viers didn’t wait to see if she succeeded or not and quickly grabbed her sabers and stumbled backward. The temple was coming down from what she could deduce from how frantic people were getting around them.​

Standing to her feet, she once more tried to summon the Force by thrusting her hand forward, a dirt-covered face showing the intense focus she had. Nothing happened again, “Chit.” Grumbling, she darted forward, feeling every strain against her body as she lunged again, swinging both her sabers towards the Sith.​

Time was running out, and she needed to get out of here with Viera.​

Alive preferably.​

 

[Jax Sloane]

L E G A C Y
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ARMOURED BATTALION
Tank Gunner
Proximity: DECEASED Erskine Barran

JUST HIT THE DOOR
​

The head of the column breached through the shadow dome. And it was in that moment that Jax dropped from his place up top, allowing the hatch to temporarily close over him as the obsidian energy field passed by harmlessly. As far as he knew, nothing occurred, nothing that was too damaging to tha tank, and if it did, he'd suffer the consequences. Shoving the hatch back up, he came out to handle the cannon again, tracking a moving figure before one of the Myrmidons emerged from the shrubbery alongside them.

"We're in," Jax muttered to himself. Some of the speeders, he recognized them as New Imperial, were crashed, damaged, having come into contact with solid tree trunks. Expected, but some sacrifices were forced to be made, and he otherwise ignored the mangled corpses that the Cataphract roved past. "Closing in on the Hammers," Jax said over the commline. In close proximity? He figured communications could be opened with the Hells Hammers. And snatching up the commlink, he raised it to his lips.

"This is, er... ACV One, of the Galidraani Blue-Hearts. What's it looking like..." A pause, he searched his stim addled mind to find the name. "...Bolter?" And for the moment, he awaited a response before repeating the query again. Was their still disturbance? He left the commlink hanging before he took up the cannon again, shooting a look over his shoulder again to the outside of the apparent Shadow Dome that lingered above them all.

Through the lines of hulking metal contraptions that made up the host of the New Orders assault, were marauding corpses. At first, they seemed mindless, but moved in the same direction, as if of single mind. Some part of him sought to bring that gun around, and lay waste to Halketh 's zombies, but the other was glad that they were indeed on their side. Or so he hoped. For while the Sith had their infamous Order, Sloane was content with risking his life in the front lines of the battlefield, knowing that the likes of the Imperial Force Corps, or whatever other magic wielding sorceror, would be on that same field with him.

Death would find those of the enemy that sought to get in the way of ACV One. With Sloane on the gun, firing on anything that moved that wasn't wearing the white of the Imperial, death was certain to follow in their wake. For while earlier forces had gone ahead of them, ACV One acted little more than a clean up crew, allowing those walkers and speeders that had gone ahead to locate the Hells Hammers cleared the way.

Having halted after that initial insertion and survey across the scene, Jax's plated fist slammed into the hull of the tank. What was the driver's name? "Malcom! Let's get going! No more stoppin'!" Jax said, raising that commlink back to his head again as the tank lurched forwards.

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

 

[Kelig Ward]

Generis Base AO
Tag: Rika Hiro | Don Belkora
Opposition: None, but feel free to oppose!
General Loadout: Storm Recon MK.II | LS-1 "Angry Owl" | Glie-50 Sidearm

[THEME]​

The clatters from the Agent's alloyed armor clashed against the confines of the vent. It couldn't be helped as the exit was close. A slight shake of his head as some of his hands shook in a slight shiver. An idle comment brought up regarding the atmosphere of the vent.

"Hohoo... chilly." A slight murmur that was audibly concealed by the soft cluttering about within the narrow passage. But in the midst of shuffling through, the exit was there. A reach outward to the edge of the shaft, Ward pulled himself out of it and clambered to the ground awkwardly. A brief scan of the pitch-black environment was conducted and Ward tapped a button onto his wrist device to activate a means of night-vision. The area was highlighted in shades of green and the Agent progressed into the dark depths of the room, evading the various objects inside and keeping low. Until the screech of a door was made, a long drawn out one. Followed by the grunt of an individual. Someone pried the door open.

"Power's out and the sarge is out at the front, we're screwed man... what're we going to do?" A Sith-Trooper spoke.
"Hells if I know man, I can't see for skrag here." His buddy, who lacked a flashlight replied.

The Agent stuck close to the crates that concealed his person, keeping away from the beam produced by the flashlight. Giving a quick peek over the crate, the Agent identified two elements that were both in armor but one seemed to lack vision and a helmet. It seems like there's not much of a challenge to follow, but discretion was to be at a high. No blaster to use for now and so, the medium lengthed blade was slid out from the sheathe. With some quiet crouched steps to advance on the duo's flank, Ward slid over to the helmeted figure first. Given that he was the one with sight in the darkness, he was the priority.

Ward's hand gripped the shoulder of the Sith-Trooper, pulling him in and driving the knife onto the back of the soldier's neck. The blade jammed through the middle of the vertebrae, the only sound made was the metal blade sliding in and the involuntary gags for breath from the victim as the stab was inflicted. A good yet brutal kill. The grip on the body was released and gravity helped with removing the neck from the knife's blade. A slight scream was made by the adjacent trooper, only to be muffled by the hand of a lunging Agent Ward. The two fell onto the floor with the COMPNOR Agent on top, the trooper did his best to resist what was to come. Some hands moving in to hit Ward in the face and push his arms away, however it all came to an end when the diving blade met the head of its enemy. It was a full-on murder at that point, but the Agent was tasked with orders. No survivors. The typical brushing of the blade against the uniform to clean off the blood was done and the knife was sheathed.

The pair were finished off and moved from the main walkway in a hasty fashion. Agent Ward proceeded on his path and with a quick turn into a room, he met with the two others that he was assigned with. His gaze set onto the monitors and back to Agent Yubari and Chief Belkora.

"Well, we're all inside. Now, we can move on with the next phase." Ward affirmed, pulling his blaster from his holster and crouching down by the door. Keeping watch of the halls; a means of security. With a moment or two to allow the others to process and get moving, Ward rose up from his crouched position and went down the North hall. Blaster trained to the other side.

"Keep me advised of any POI's." He transmitted, marching off down the depths of the dark hall.

 

[Arctus Silmar]

The Shaper

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

The Shaper had no more gripped Acharn then he felt Enlil extend his control over The Force, spreading out his influence to encapsulate a majority of the very chamber they occupied. The walkway, the supports, The Shaper himself, and he could only smile. As Enlil did not allow The Shaper time to press his own attack The Shaper instead reacted, drawing on his peerless mastery of Tutaminis and the intrinsic properties of Urfael, The Shaper drew the heat energy from the air before Enlil's attack even came. Drawing the potent, burning power of heat into the gleaming blade where he could and into his own clenched fist where he would not. Sparing the device from his wrath as well by making the flames fall short of it's being.

The result was much different than the Fool King likely anticipated as a blade's length away the walkway remained untouched, Urfael flaring with now pale green glames and The Shaper watched Enlil fall for only a moment before deciding on his next course of action. he dove from the walkway toward Enlil, channeling Force Flight to aid his descent in only minor adjustments. Before he extended Urfael and, using the energy from Enlil's own attack, unleashed a torrent of deadly Force Lightning from the blade's extended tip. Simultaneously, The Shaper was still aware of Acharn's presence, now resting on the temple floor somewhat clos to the device, and with a relatively minor telekinetic exertion he planted the spear in the floor of the temple bas-first. Deadly tip pointing up at Enlil as he fell and The Shaper gave Enlil no time to concentrate to adjust himself.

After launching the torrent of Force Lightning The Shaper would then draw back his free hand and telekinetically attempt to hurl Enlil bodily onto Acharn, away from the Crucifixion Engine, his eyes set upon the Fool King's countenance as they fell. He said nothing now as, unlike even the Jedi, this creature was utterly devoid of reason. Spitting, howling and strutting around like a deranged animal who's only emotion was pride in himself. The Shaper was... unimpressed. Raw, burning passion flooded his bloodstream like lava as he thought of such a creature denying him, of delaying his plans. Strength suffused his arms, muscles and his very being as he tightened his grip on Urfael, and in his passion and strength he could see victory. Clearly in view, within reach, with only one mewling fool in the way.

How soon would these feeble chains break, he wondered, and how sorely would it sting his adversaries undeserved pride to be laid so low? He relished the thought.

Allies: TSE & Friends

Enemies: NIO, GA & Ne'er-do-wells

Engaging: Enlil

 

[Enlil]

Too little, too late

​

Time was relative now. Thermodynamics were a firm and concrete rule, and as heat expanded, it began to encapsulate a greater area. The heat now saturated most of the room, and as Enlil moved at intense speed through the air and the Shaper wove whatever strange spells he wanted, the air was already supercharged.

When Electricity crackled from the Shaper, it joined all the other molecules in the air. It crackled loudly, creating an even greater, intense reaction. He had successfully joined in the King's ultimate scheme.

Metal warped and joined Oblivion. The King's presence was no longer needed for things to unfold. This man had, in whatever clever scheme he imagined that he had, been the undoing of the Ancient Evil.

The Rakatan machination no longer had protection from the elements.

Arctus Silmar​

 

[The Amalgam]

The Nuetralizers were tearing apart the openings in the wrecked vehicle of Konrad Bolter , surrounding it on all sides. He had shot a few already and they were getting impatient.

One crawled into another opening to get to him arming its Concussive blaster to try and blow his head off.

"You ever dance with the Devil, by the pale moonlight?" It asked, choosing the most disturbing thing it could possibly have the victim hear before being sent to the hereafter, firing right at him...

Meanwhile...

"Brad! They're getting up!" One Nuetralizer called out to another as it gunned down a Myrmidon Trooper with its Ion Disruptor, the man screaming in horrifying agony that pierced the air in spite of the gunfire, the shot breaking down his molecules slowly. They were getting hit with the Zombies sent by Halketh at long last.

"Oooo! That's so cool! I've never killed a Zombie before! Do I get extra points for it?" Brad the Nuetralizer asked as it disintegrated one.

"I don't think so. There's no points for literally the most common form of battlefield fodder." Another said as it blasted a Stormtrooper apart with a chain gun, heavily damaged.

"What do we do about Zombies? I've never seen any of the movies." another complained as it casually tore one of them in half. "This perma-kills 'em, right?"

"I think so..." another confirmed, repeating the same grisly act. One more from far away in the jungle had mowed down a number of Stormtroopers and undead by lifting the heavy machine gun from a hidden nest and going full Arnold-With-A-Coffin, using walking fire techniques in addition to its mounted cryo laser.

"Whatever you do, don't use flamethrowers! That just gets you Zombies that are on fire!" It called out, laughing psychotically in between bursts from his Machine gun. "Do what I do! Freeze 'em, then shoot 'em. Solves the whole problem!"

"I dunno, maybe we should keep it classic, like we're all a survivors in a house! Survivors in houses don't have cryo weapons! Almost feels like cheating!" Teddy the Nuetralizer argued as it followed the advice.

"Cut off their limbs!" Isacc the Nuetralizer yelled excitedly using a chainsaw.

"You do that anyway..." one of his skeletal brothers pointed out from behind, annoyed.

"CUT OFF THEIR LIMBS!!! AHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!!" Isacc replied with maniacal laughter as he chainsawed the zombies.

Other Nuetralizers began to focus on the troublesome Myrmidons that were cutting through their defensive lines, some engaging them head on, while others sniped at them from the tree lines not yet decimated with Droid Assassin Rifles, the gunfire masking their shots.

The Amalgam's Witches conjured lightning from both their fingers and the Sky, inflicting horrific damage a good number of troopers and Cataphracts who breached the Shadowy Dome, exploding them and causing flames to spread through the Artificial night land.

The Witches conjured powerful avatars of their "God", a monster resembling and emaciated, faceless and naked Togrutan woman with purple skin and overly long fingers with sharp claws, which climbed its way out of their mouths to start savaging through invading stormtroopers sent by DECEASED Erskine Barran , somehow snarling even though they had no mouths as they began brutally disemboweling Stormtroopers, and though they were easily dispersed into nothingness with a few blaster shots, they moved and attacked so fast that it was hard to get more than a few shots off, let alone land them all, and swarms of them erupted from the Shadow Dome, running headlong into cataphract fire. But that was the point. They were intended to soak up fire. While other Witches used Force Stealth to clamber onto APC, and plant charges, Forty Nuetralizers had been destroyed at this point, but not before killing dozens and dozens each before finally destroyed. The Witches of the Cult had taken heavy losses also, but had slain many more than the Nuetralizers, even being shredded apart and blasted apart as they had been, some holding their bodies together only with the Dark Side as they brutally electrocuted Stormtroopers and Mech Units, some giving chase to Jax Sloane and summoning a heavy lightning strike on his position...

Meanwhile...

As Halketh gave his ultimatum to Eleena Salwa , the sound of Zombies shambling towards her was interrupted by the sounds of a Lightsaber staff spinning through their bodies, and eviscerating the Zombies.

The Amalgam strode forward, finishing another slice of Pizza while using her free hand and her staff to lawnmower his small squad of undead.

"Yummy. I saved you a slice by the way, just don't remember where I put it..." The Amalgam said to Eleena with a shrug before staring at Halketh, feeling his intense Darkness and reveling in it. Oh yes, the NIO would make fine dictators eventually.

"This little one's not worth your trouble..." The Amalgam taunted, spinning her purple staff playfully. "Why not prove yourself to me instead? Good trick with the Zombies by the way, you NIO, I swear, you keep finding new ways to make me question what actually seperates you from us..."

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

POST XI
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

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

CALLSIGN: BLUE-HEART ALPHA

Custom Blaster-Pistol | Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore

RACING TO THE SHADOW DOME I

<"All NIO ground forces in the immediate AO, Carlac stands for you. My forces will shield your push. Move together, lest you die alone.">

'Oh, kark it!', the Lord-Major growled as he stomped on what turned out to be yet another useless Sith-speeder write-off, but this time, an audible yelp of pain followed the mettalic clunking of the Blue-Heart's boots shoving into it's chassis. An unfortunate survivor had been discovered by accident, though how misfortunate, Erskine had no earthly idea; all he knew was that the Sith-speeder's driver had obviously been injured in the crash, and that the bike she'd used to hide under had quite possibly exacerbated her injuries when Barran impatiently jumped on it. Squirming out from underneath whilst cradling the pains in the shattered right-side of her hip, the speeder's driver held her hands up as soon as she saw that Lord Erskine had his custom blaster-pistol drawn and pointed directly at her face, remaining wordless and yelping as Barran calmly drawled,'Name - your - commander....', in complete contrast to the anger he was exhibiting before.

'Her name is Eleena Salwa, sir. Please don't kill me, I just want to survive.'

'No idea who that is, soldier.', Erskine replied with nought but raw apathy written all over his face, a horror that the Sith-speeder's driver was beginning to acknowledge, made all the more obvious with her hyperventilating becoming audible through her helmet. Barran knew she was unimportant, subject to little more than the information these Sith-Imperials were given with each deployment-dossier their masters threw their way, so the necessity to torture the driver was eliminated; yet the Lord-Major wasn't about to deviate from the NIO's no-POWs policy, and certainly not for a low-ranked Sith-speeder unit of any sort. Calmly inhaling through his nose, and offering the kindliest smirk he could conjure, Major Barran decided his brand of mercy would suit best as he said,'You really should've gotten into another line o' work, this soldiering lark really isn't for you.'

'Wait, please, NOOOOOOO-'

Double-tapping as she tried to squirm away from her adversary, Barran shot the Sith-speeder's driver to death, reducing the helmet (and the head it was designed to protect) to a smoky husk before she had time to completely turn her face away from the Major's shots. However, Erskine hadn't spotted the presence to his side until they'd come bounding into his ribcage, sending the blaster-pistol careening into the nearby bushes as both Barran and his new aggressor tumbled to the ground together. 'But - you'll know who my commander is-', the unclaimed male Sith-trooper grunted through his exertions, trying to push for a single-leg sweep but Barran had been able to drive his knee into the trooper's face with the back leg that was supposed to be tripped. Taking it well and following through on his takedown, the Sith-trooper slammed Erskine on the gravel beneath him and asked,'Ever heard of... The Amalgam, old man?', as he lowered his posture to attempt attaining full-mount.

'Heh! Sounds like your commander needs to get back on their MEDS!!!', Erskine shot back, clobbering his adversary over the side of his helmet with a loose rock he'd gripped in desperation. The blow had rocked the trooper enough for him to slump to one side, and the Lord-Major would use the lull in groundwork to continue smashing into the helmet for a few more smashes until he pulled off the Sith-trooper's helmet to continue. By the time Barran was finished, there was nothing but a grisly mess where Erskine's opponent's head was supposed to be, and by the time the Lord-Major stood to take a deep inhalation of much-needed air, the rigors of age gave his bones an achingly-painful reminder of every human's inherited ticking-clock of existential impermanence. 'You youngsters are just the absolute worst!', the Lord-Major groaned angrily, stirring to look around his position with renewed wariness before giving in to the pains in his lower-back, sitting down by the bodies of his foes like he was lazing in the sun with them on Archaisia.

All was silent and serene for a while, with the only sound reaching beyond the throbbing in Barran's ears being that of his own breathing; it almost lulled him to sleep as the throbbing subsided, fading away for the recognisable noises of running streams and rainforest-insects slowly coming to the fore. The wind would gust a warm blast of humid air across the Lord-Major's face for a while, but a voice cut through the quiet atmosphere like a shot in the dark, exclaiming,'Looking for this, sir?', with an air of malice in their voice. Opening his eyes, Erskine could see two units, with their unit marked,"Nuetralizer" on their gear; and one was waving his blaster-pistol around jokingly, trying their best to tease Barran into miss-stepping before they both drew their vibroswords with murderous intent.
Oh, I'll be grabbing that from your cold dead fingers. One way or another, you'll wish you'd left me to regain my strength in peace.

'Poor choice....', Major Barran started, pausing only to grip his Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore and unsheathe it slowly, letting his newest opponents gaze on the instrument of their demise before moving his gaze back-and-forth between these,"Neutralizers". Sniggering at their audible disappointment, Erskine knew by then that he had gotten inside their heads, and continued as such by jeering,'Poor choice indeed.... Should've learned to pick easier opponents, you honestly would've lasted longer as wartime can-crushers.', with the utmost disdain for what (and who) these individuals were representing. Looking for a false-step reaction to jump on, the opponent who was holding the blaster-pistol threw it at the Lord-Major in the hopes he would flinch himself onto the confrontation's back-foot from the offset, but Lord Erskine kept darting his wide-eyed glare back-and-forth between them with every air of defiance he could muster in that moment.

'You could just surrender, old man.... Make it easier? No? THEN DIE!!!'

RACING TO THE SHADOW DOME II

'Well you've seen better days, have ye no? Poor wee dumplin', had all the confidence in the galaxy.... Aye, everyone has a plan until they get their bloody arms chopped off! Nothing ever seems t'change with you lot, eh? Too predictable for your own good, an' your superiors can't even see it for themselves.'

After nearly five-minutes of two-on-one fighting, the,"Neutralizers", were running out of ideas, and it was in such moments of indecision that Barran had managed to carve out his advantage over the odds that were previously stacked unfairly against him. The sword-arm of the mouthier one had been cut off below the elbow, revealing no discernible trace of what Erskine would consider as human, but the Lord-Major was unperturbed still, understanding that these individuals could regardless still be,"Neutralized", just like every other Sith-Imperial the Zambrano dynasty dared put in his path. And with renewed confidence in his abilities, Barran was comfortable enough to subtly drop his posture and spread his stance out a little farther, and almost instantly set to work on his (by then) backpedalling foes, splitting the left leg of the disarmed assailant in two, and the sword-arm of the slyer-other before stopping to reset his stance to something different for the second time.

'A waste o' time, money and effort! Just look at the karking state o' you both! JUST GLORIFIED TOASTER-OVENS, THE PAIR O' YOU!!!'

Rushing forward in a blitz of finesse-cutting angles, it didn't take long for Barran to punch holes, gashes and slices all over his weakened opponents, though their dismay lacked all sense of agony, fear and hopelessness as Barran finally killed the loudmouthed-one; hacking the last thread of digitally crafted bio-matter standing between Erskine's blade and the wiring that ran up the loudmouth's artificial spinal-chord at the neck, then making a wide slash to cut all the exposed cabling and circuitry with aid of a simple inward-rotation of the orthodox-standing hip. The static sparks thrown out would land on the weakened second,"Neutralizer" as they tried to back off, consequently setting their own exposed circuitry beneath their armour ablaze as Lord Erskine rounded on his last hurdle, kicked into wild flame from embers by the warm gusts of wind that blew humid life into the fire on his opponent's right arm Setting his stance into something new for a third time, the Lord-Major readied his posture with perfect poise, lowering the claymore to his left side before lunging to cleanly behead his opponent in a singular fluid motion.
Still guessing what kind of mayhem Ollis could cause wae his. There'd be wee chunks o' these idiots lying all over the place by the end!

When the flaming remains of the second,"Neutralizer" had finally slumped in a contorted pile at his feet, Barran looked up to find a white-armour stormtrooper standing ten metres away from the end-point of the fight between man and machine, watching silently as Barran finally got his chance to pick his blaster-pistol up again. Lord Erskine would've drawn on the trooper too, but he noticed the NIO-insignia, the jetpack and the vibrosword at the trooper's hip just in time; sighing with relief for the second time since he left the ACV, the Lord-Major holstered his pistol and sheathed his sword before turning to address the New-Imperial soldier properly. Looking over the armour-array once more, Erskine was drawn to the Virbosword in particular, though his gaze drifted upwards the grey Myrmidon-decals on the soldier's helmet and shoulder-plates, instantly putting the puzzle-pieces together in recognition of a warrior who appeared to be separated from the very unit Barran was following to the Shadow Dome.

'Greetings, Myrmidon. I get the feeling you already know who I am, so I'll spare you the introductions. If you're lost-'

Interrupted by sniggering, riddled with such high-derision that it hadn't escaped the Lord-Major's notice, the Myrmidon soldier interjected,'-You can call me Private Marcus, and I know my way back, sir. The First-Captain actually sent me back here to see if you're still alive; we can hear you struggling from farther than 300 metres away, and it's starting to get on the First-Captains nerves.', with as much venom as was expected of one who was wrongly assumed to be lost and beleaguered, though the elite trooper was still doing well to keep his language as professional as possible. Strolling closer, whilst reattaching his blaster-rifle to it's sling-strap, the Myrmidon calmly cleared his throat before muttering,'Corvus usually wouldn't mind, but he's in one helluva mood today, sir. Best we don't poke the big bear with a stick today, agreed?', with a contrastingly-amiable tone.

'And you propose.... What, exactly?'

'Easiest thing to do, yeah?', the Myrmidon-private asked in reply, getting an impatient shrug to continue as he turned around to look over Erskine's shoulder. Inhaling with all the urgency of a lazy village policeman, the soldier concluded,'Easiest thing you could do in this situation is this.... Take a stroll northwards and get back in your ACV, sir. That's what I'd do in your shoes, but feel free to take it up with the First-Captain if you have any complaints; though, if I can be perfectly straight with you, that would be the worst possible thing you could do today', before turning to head southwards and vector back to his unit, but the Lord-Major (as one might easily guess) was in one of those Bastion-wild moods that day.
Well, he's not gonna like this....

'Barran to Corvus-'

Just as Barran's eyes turned to gaze on the dome, a giant explosion at it's base from the southwest punched open a hole so wide that everyone in the area could see it easily. in a bright shimmer of matter, the entire dome rippled under the pressure of the breaching blast of Sloane's speeder-bike squadron, and the explosion itself would blemish and melt away a vast part of the dome's western curvature. The opening was there for all the NIO's units in the area to charge through, saving Private Marcus from a headache he knew he didn't need on that day of all days, but also giving both Marcus and Barran reason enough to split off and return to convention once more.

'Saved by the bell this time, Marcus. I'll be seeing ye, though. Good luck out there, kid.'

<"Closing in on the Hammers!">

'Don't need it, sir! And from now on, I'll be praying to be deployed as far from you as possible. Nothing personal, sir.'

RACING TO THE SHADOW DOME III

<"This is, er... ACV One, of the Galidraani Blue-Hearts. What's it looking like... Bolter?">
Getting there.... Perhaps we'll make a competent tank-commander of you before the day's done. Crazier things have happened, Sloane.

The radio chatter was growing more intense by that point, not just from Sloane's channel, but from every other unit pushing to fight their way into the center of the Shadow Dome from the only available entryway; this was giving Erskine a good idea of what was going on as he followed his bearings to the nearest possible location of ACV One, hearing everything occur in real-time as he sprinted through the jungle with his pistol drawn. It was originally intended for shooting Halketh's zombies, but when he'd stumbled into one and had fallen into a creek with the unlucky undead-fellow, he'd surmised it might have been Halketh's as soon as the muddied creature impatiently shoved him to one side to continue on it's way.

<"Malcom! Let's get going! No more stoppin'!">
Using comms instead o' shouting over the engine-roar, smart... But - oh, no! You-

'-Wouldn't dare, Sloane! ARE YOU TRYING TO GIVE ME A HEART-ATTACK TODAY, LAD?!?!?!?!?!', the Lord-Major aimlessly screamed into the wilderness around him as he jumped back out the creek, sprinting directly towards the Shadow Dome's west-facing breach as the ruined comm-device was tossed away on his run southwards. Passing zombies, allies and the remains of their battle with the combined forces of the Amalgam and Eleena Salwa, Erskine knew he had to get to the nearest Cataphract or APC before he missed the rest of the battle's fun part. Shouting obscenities at the wilderness and every obstacle along his way, he'd be running for a while before he saw anything resembling the vehicles he'd been coordinating.

​

​

 

[Caarlyle Rausgeber]

UNTERNEHMEN B L U T H A M M E R
Taskforce Totales Krieg
Location: Generis' Orbit//NIV Tregessar//Command Deck
Subordinate Officers: Gallius Orcana | Jivim Vaak | Tantalus
Enemy Combatants: Onrai | Seela Leini | Commodore Curtis Rheardon | Ren-Hua Mant
Theme: A S S C L A M P

Carlyle watched the predictability of the attack with wry amusement. His lighter clicked as he ignited the cigarette hanging from his lips. He watched as the Sith scrambled their entire fighter capacity against his wings. It wasn't an unsurprising effort. But it was one he would make sure hurt them in the long run. Taking a drag Carlyle smirked, turning to the TIE command. "Rally the rest of the bombers and fighters." Rausgeber commanded, "They are to engage elsewhere, targets locked on their portside flank. Hammer them." His head turned back to the display watching as the Sith impotently tried to swat away at his fighters.

"Drag us forward," Carlyle snapped, dabbing some ash from the end on the display. "All larger class vessels, proceed to engage. We're going to smash them. Point blank range. Target major weapon systems." The New Imperial armada began to press forward. "Move to cover our Gorgon," Rausgeber barked, noting the battlecruiser had born the brunt of Vantai's assault, "And press us forward, forward!" The Tregessar lurched ahead, turning into Vantai's fleet. The gargantuan Super Star Destroyer spearheaded the attack, backed by smaller battlecruisers and star destroyers. As they came into range, the squads of escolta-class frigates began to spray down the Sith Imperial fighters at range. The smaller Cuirassier-Cruisers sprinted through the Sith formation, edging themselves close to the weapons systems and delivering point blank barrages to the mass drivers, scuttling as many of the smaller and weapon emplacements as possible.

Admiral Blastoiyvich and his corvettes amply out ran weapons systems designed for anti-capital purposes. They were fast. Agile. Effective. "Have the Admiral, turn inwards," Carlyle commanded, "Begin assault on the sublight engines. Stagger and cripple them." The corvettes with the order relayed now sprinted toward the vanguard of Vantai's fleet, missiles primed and engaging the dreadnaughts engines at close range. Ensuring salvo after salvo was delivered so close as to eliminate the mitigation of point defence weaponry. Good. Very good. The more casualties inflicted here. The weaker the Sith would become. Already Carlyle could sense it. Another scalp for himself. First Ven. Then Ordo. Now Vantai. Professionals the Grand Admiral intended to outshine once more with his prowess.

"Grand Admiral!" Carlyle cigarette in mouth turned to look at a junior sensor operator, "Unauthorised dock locking in sector six." That was the fore of the vessel, on the underside. The Grand Admiral felt his eye twitch, and the operator swallowed, "Enemy boarding shuttle. Orders?" Carlyle grit his teeth as the Tregessar was rocked by a barrage of point blank delivered ordnance.

"General," His ire turned to the Lira Dubara, Brigadier General of the Fifth Stossgrenadier Brigade. The Brigadier General with her richly tanned skin turned a hint of pale as the Prefsbelt Command chief glared at her. "I want survivors," The officer snapped at the "I want examples. I want them alive!"

Spoiler: Fighter Compliment Actions

53x Petard Class Droid Fighters (x) have been halted installation.
61x TIE/HB Bombers (x) have been deployed. Attacking Vantai targets at will.
54x TIE/HF Slasher Fighters (x) are attacking the enemy's fighters. Creating fighter supremacy.
44x TIE/INX Interceptors (x) are attacking the enemy's fighters. Creating fighter supremacy.
20x TIE/VX Vanguard Fighters (x) are attacking the enemy's fighters. Creating fighter supremacy.
63x TIE/OT Outlander Fighters (x) are attacking the enemy's fighters. Creating fighter supremacy.

13x TIE/HB Bombers have been dispatched under Fighter Wing Ren to attack the Gorgon.
8x TIE HF/Slasher Fighters of Fighter Wing Krayt are escorting TIE bombers to the Gorgon
6x TIE/INX Interceptors of Fighter Wing Krayt are escorting TIE Bombers to the Gorgon
7x TIE/OT Outlander Fighters of Fighter Wing Krayt are escorting TIE Bombers to the Gorgon

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

TREGESSAR COMMAND:
NIV Tregessar
Prefsbelt Class Super Star Destroyer ( x)

NIV Lanius
Legate-Class Battlecruiser (x)

NIV Gorgon
Reprisal-Class Battlecruiser (x)

NIV Interceptor
Tartarus-Class Interdictor (x)

NIV Serrano's Legacy
Tyranus-Class Star Destroyer (x)

NIV Fury
New Imperial-I Class Star Destroyer (x)

NIV Centurion
New Imperial-I Class Star Destroyer

NIV Fallen Valour
New Imperial-I Class Star Destroyer

NIV Conquering Victor
Valiant-Class Star Destroyer (x)

NIV Mygeeto
Valiant-Class Star Destroyer

NIV Starlight
Valiant-Class Star Destroyer

12x Escolta-Class Frigates (x)

8x Mantero-Class Missile Frigates (x)

18x Warrior-II Gunships (x)

12x Gurkha-Class Corvettes (x)

8x Cacadore-Class Corvettes (x)

MALICE SQUADRON

NIV Malice
Reprisal-Class Star Destroyer

NIV Nirauan's Vengence
Tyranus-Class Star Destroyer

NIV Bastion's Strength
New Imperial-I Class Star Destroyer

NIV Brutality
New Imperial-I Class Star Destroyer

NIV Carnivorous
Cuirassier-Class Cruiser (x)

NIV Brilliance
Cuirassier-Class Cruiser

NIV Malevolence
Cuirassier-Class Cruiser

NIV Kriegspite
Cuirassier-Class Cruiser

NIV Harridan
Cuirassier-Class Cruiser

12x Escolta-Class Frigates

19x Warrior-II Class Corvettes

8x Cacadore-Class Corvettes

VANQUISHER SQUADRON
NIV Vanquisher
Endurance-II Class Fleet Carrier (x)

NIV Gorgon
Reprisal-Class Star Destroyer

NIV Sith's Demise
Pellaeon III Class Star Destroyer (x)

NIV Brigand
Pellaeon III Class Star Destroyer

NIV Valiant Servitude
Stalwart-Class Carrier (x)

NIV Bravery
Stalwart-Class Carrier

NIV Boisterous
Stalwart-Class Carrier

NIV Crusader
Stalwart-Class Carrier

NIV Endurance
Stalwart-Class Carrier

NIV Bastion
Stalwart-Class Carrier

12x Escolta-Class Frigates

9x Dragoon-Class Frigates (x)

12x Tirailleur-Class Frigates (x)

12x Warrior-II Class Corvettes

 

[Xeykard]

Cotan Sar'andor
​

Unfortunate thing was -- he did recognize the man.

Xeykard's blade was deflected away. His grip, hardly as tight as he would've liked, slacked under the pressure from the Je'daii. His armor tanked much of the telekinetic blast, yet he still flew, skipping once on the pond before he found some modicum of composure and pulled himself to the other side of the pond. The mud squished under his feet when he landed.

Cotan Sar'andor. The murkiness of the pond had obscured his vision, but now he could see clearly. Without even a wave of his hand Sar'andor had cast a barrier, resisted Xeykard's grip, and sent him flying. No, it would not be that easy -- but, were he to succeed where even the former Dark Lord could not...

No, it would not be that easy.

The two seconds of hesitation that Xeykard spent waiting likely gave his knowledge of his opponent away. He couldn't flee; that would be a disgrace, and he doubted he'd be able to escape if Sar'andor decided to pursue. The Inquisitor straightened and drew breath. He focused his mind, his anger, his hate.

The man ahead was an enemy of the Empire, of the Sith. His power was paltry in face of the darkness...

Wasn't it?

With a roar he forced all doubt from his mind. His hands reached out, taking hold of the water of the pond to launch it at the Je'daii in a miniature tsunami; enough to wash him away if he didn't deal with it.

Xeykard launched himself forward, following the wave. Though he couldn't see or smell Sar'andor through the wall of water, he now had time to focus his sense of the Force, latching onto the newest object of his hate. When he was close enough the lightclub struck like a viper; rapid thrusts in search of purchase in the Je'daii's form.

 

[Konrad Bolter]

T Y R A N T
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
66th ARMORED COMPANY 'HELL'S HAMMERS'
XT-62 | MBTb 'Cataphracht'

SUNSET​

TYRANT - SPEAR
I - II - III - IV - V

DEVIL - SWORD
I - II - III - IV - V

As the crimson photoreceptors appeared in the jagged openings of the tank, Konrad would meet those dreaded mechanical eyes of death with another round down range. It was all that could come to fruition from the pitch darkness shrouding his position. There was plenty of fight to put up before his light faded., eyeing the crackling display he could see the distorted image of the cavalry coming in. He felt his stomach turn in that moment. More men to the slaughter, but selfishly, who was he to stop them? Such was the way of the New Imperial. Where Empires of eras passed sought to view its soldiers as the expendable assets they were, each duraplast face in the mirage of many an expendable asset. Beneath the Iron Sun, there'd be none left behind.

A risk bound and perilous doctrine, but one twice as rewarding. Seeing half a section of the neutralizers swarm the opening in his tank, he finally unfurled his tight grip around the thermal imploder, lobbing it through the jagged maw of the Cataphract and into the fray. Silence snapped at the air, nigh a faint suciton at the air before the seismic blast rattled the center of the formation. It was then he slowly lifted himself from the commander's position with a groan of pain, glancing the way of Artyom, he moved to wrap an arm around the center mass before wrenching him from the gunner's position, slowly managing themselves from the hull of the vehicle.

Another well placed detpack and it'd be the end of both of them. Unfitting. To the Archaisian...to the Imperial. He would not go out as he'd seen far too many, struggling to undo the straps and latches to free himself from the scrap metal coffin. He would look the enemy down in the face and see the coup de grace head on.

He set Artyom behind a pile of scrap, parceled cover. Put a carbine in his hand before he sparked a flare alight and threw it infront of them. Many more of those horrid crimson eyes illuminated in the darkness. He climbed his way to the external command position of the Cataphract, kneeling down to wield the 'Reaper' once more. As the Lionhearts of Galidraan breached the realm of darkness, so too did Bolter bring it alight in kinetic fury. The few remaining tanks of the formation enveloped the shattered remains of Tyrant Spear, holding on to the end, that vaunted promise between all the sons and daughters of the Empire. That no link was too weak, that no soul too unworthy to march unto the final triumph without.

They would all go down together, no man left behind.

He continued that violent rip of the chaincannon at his will before another blaster bolt thud into his chest. The composite cuirass did well enough in absorbing the blow. It was a moment's lapse before he squeezing the triggers again. And then another shot rocked his should, biting into the fatigues and flesh, sending him tumbling down from the turret spot with a low grunt of pain, collapsing unto the broken earth beneath.

He went for the pistol again, pulling it from the leather holster as he struggled to manage himself to his feet, pulling the Archaisian camouflage wrapping over his face again. Another blaster bolt bit into his back. The next note of defiance was less of pain and more of aggrivation.

His commo sparked to life.

<"This is, er... ACV One, of the Galidraani Blue-Hearts. What's it looking like... Bolter?">​

He lifted a hand to move between the shell of his helmet and the headset beneath, to press unto the 'push to talk' activation. Immediately after, he willed himself to speak only for a bloodwrought coughing to follow as he nearly collapsed into the aft of the tank, pressing his hand against the hull of the metal. Along which, his splayed hands partially covered the endearing title to Bolter's command vehicle 'The Bastard'.

<"Copy...Blue-Hearts..."> A concerning pause, he took a moment off the commo to drink down heavy breathes.

<"It's looking like hell. Surrounded...they've taken out over half my force. I need an immediate relief if at all possible....and if not..."> There was only one other option.

Broken Arrow.

A strike directly on Konrad's enveloped position.

There was no way in hell he was letting the Sith take him prisoner.

<"It's dark out here,...but we'll hold as long as we can...Archaisians never die, boys...but if it's it for me today...I'm not taking less than all these fucking Sith with me...Tyrant out."> He said before the commo shut off. He collapsed again, leaning his back against the aft of the tank as all but the bright shards of fire from the remnants of his company and the blazing inferno was all that lit up the vantablack night. He sat, his lifeblood trickling to the earth beneath, his pistol close to his chest. As soon as he gathered the energy, he stood up again, immediately aggravating blaster wounds marring his form before he made his way back unto the top of the tank, sparking another flare alight as he clutched it tightly and held it high into the air.

Lighting the way of respite for what remained of his company.

ALLIES | NIO | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Willan Tal | Jax Sloane | Loros Kalaric | Nima Appw'rii | Arten Jinn
ENEMIES | TSE | Nixie | The Amalgam | Marimax Mortui

 

[Fisk Kamer]

Objective: Kill some Sith peeps
Engaging: Calruss Shiman
Items: Lightsaber
​

First major battle while fighting as an Imperial Knight. This outta be interesting.

His lightsaber lightly bounced off of his hip as he walked towards the temple. Fighting happened all around him, but he took no mind to it. Heck, no one was bother him. So he just walked around and enjoyed the view. Until some Sith person decided to try and fight him, well...he would probably do something. What that something was? He wasn't sure yet. But it was going to happen.

As he needed the temple a noticed a door that stood in front of him. It was by no means a large entrance type doer, but something more like a side passage. Either way, it was interesting enough for him to go check it out. It also intrigued him since there was a presence he could sense behind the walls.

Placing his webbed hand on the door he gave a simple push. When it hadn't even moved he realized that someone probably blocked it. Smart. But, he was smarter.

Unhooking his lightsaber from his belt he flicked it on, the bright blue light reflecting off of the wall. Pointing the blade toward the structure, he thrusted it forward. The blade pierced through the door like it was butter. Now manuvering the blade he cut around the entire frame. Once he made it all the way around he expected it to just fall forward.

It didn't.

Letting out a sigh he went form a new approached. Balancing on his right foot he lifted his left leg slightly to his chest. After that, he raised both arms to resembles wings. With a quick motion he hopped off of his right foot, sending into the door. It fell forward loudly, yet it revealed something. A boy, looked to be in his teens, stood across from him. Stepping through the doorway he struck up a small conversation.

"Man, um, I opcoulnt find the right key, so I just sorta...yeah"

With a quick little chuckle he lowered his blade. Yet he tensed right back up when he notice the saber the teen had.

"So are you a good guy...or a bad guy? And by good guy I mean Jedi/Imperial Knight, and bad guy as in...well, you know, the Sith."

 

[Zaavik Perl]

RAKATAN TEMPLE // GENERIS
PRESENT TIME // GENERISFALL

「SEEK AND DESTROY」​

Insidious tendrils of the dark side crept into his psyche. They twisted his perception, seeking to convince him the Force had absconded from him. It was momentarily convincing, but he'd received training against this flavor of mind intrusion. A Shadow's mind had to be sharp and shielded from tamper. He squeezed his eyes shut for a split second, blinking hard as he forced himself to grasp reality.

Under his breath, he muttered a repetitive phrase. One drilled into him during resistance training to keep ahold, like deep breaths under stress. An opposing strike rang out from him, notably less precise than usual, and slightly clumsy, but enough to stop the Sith's strike short of Auraya's neck. The saber flourished, turning once over to point toward the Sith.

"Coward," he rebuked shakily. Leave it to a Sith to target the youth, the learner. It went without saying that Auraya was a combatant and not deserving of special privilege in battle. Still, it didn't detract from how reprehensible the intention was. Practical? Certainly. Smart? Absolutely. But abhorrent all the same. He bared his teeth, grip tightening on the hilt of his saber.

A step forward heralded an arc to the left, plasma droning loudly as it cut through the air. At the last minute, the trajectory shifted with a feint. Shoulders and elbows rolled, the weapon suddenly approaching from the other side, aimed with the intent to cut clean across the center of the skull.

ALLIES: GA / NIO: Auraya Irath-Ur
ENEMIES: TSE: Ariealla Vareldi

 

[Rurik Fel]

M A N _ O F _ I R O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LORD EXECUTOR
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
Iron Skin | Lightsaber

THE EPITAPH
​

The blade pressed through the assassin's skin of the Empress. But no fruits to the coup de grace. She stood still, dormant. Idle before him with that blank coldness in her eyes. He clenched his teeth in utter defiance. She was not wholly mortal. She existed with one foot in the realm between realms and one foot where the materium dwelled. A miasma of the Force in one. A frigid, enigmatic creature. The realization beguiled him for a moment, just long enough for Ingrid to spout her taunt. Saying that name in which Rurik mourned the fallen brother. Vyrin Karis.

In that moment of weakness, she took the respite of her form to clutch the blade and will it toward his eye. He lifted his head away from the thrust, the razor sharp tip gouging a jagged, shrieking laceration through the metal of the false visage and into the tortured flesh beneath. No insulating fabric or pain dampening bacta injections saved him from the pain. It was immeasurable suffering. His eyes screwed shut as a result as he snapped his left hand, the only limb through which he could channel the force to snatch ahold of that wrist clutching the blade, twisting it at the point of articulation if he could manage it, applying pressure to the outside joint in the hopes that the blade would tremble from her grip and clatter to the floor beneath.

The lifeblood rolled down his face as he locked eyes with her. But through that grip of her form, he channeled himself through the Force. Beneath that supposed frigid shell, there would be the pit of weakness that congealed within her. The shatterpoint. The wounds so grievous that lied buried within. He sought that moment of deep, bitter vulnerability.

It couldn't end like this, it couldn't end with this.

That moment of which the source of all her love and all her purpose...vanished into the hereafter. If anything could shatter the icy exterior of Ingrid L'lerim, it was that moment. That stab and twist into her heart. He unearthed that wound so deep it bled into the Force itself. That 'shatter' in her very being. He sought it out and went to pound his fist unto the metaphorical point of impact all the same.

He wrenched his blade from the abdomen of her nigh spectral form before surging it only a few inches upward. The heart. The very same place she was wounded in a nigh purpose draining manner not so long ago. In the hopes that the surge of the shattering to the forefront of her mind would reawaken the incomparable pain and supercede all else.

"You are not a Sith...you are nothing at all."

THE CATALYST

Enlil | Arctus Silmar
​

---

---

---

As the battle of wills, Order and Darkness raged around it, the Catalyst lie dormant. Uninterrupted, unfettered in its protective casing as the King battled the Shaper. As they both wrought the will of fire and electric fury into the air one to destroy the Catalyst and the other to siphon the heat from the air to protect it, it awoke with a flutter from its dormancy. At the attempt to destroy it, the esoteric casing around it, emitting its slow burning radioactive aura erupted with a seismic fury, sending off a shockwave of nigh explosive force in all directions within its chamber, aiming to send the two back and away from the device, a seemingly automatically triggered counter measure activated at the overt attempt at its removal or destruction.

Immediately after, it returned to its dormant state, the featureless sphere within the casing continuing its idly turning beneath the esoteric holding.

​

ALLIES | NIO | Kainan | Ryv | Dagon Kaze | Paz Koon | Enlil
ENEMIES | TSE | Ingrid L'lerim Coordinated | Alina Tremiru | Darth Strosius | Arctus Silmar

 

[Eleena Salwa]

Location: Jungle Surrounding Generis Base - Generis
Call Sign: Mermaid Nine
Allies: TSE ( The Amalgam )
Enemies: NIO ( Halketh Loros Kalaric Jax Sloane Arten Jinn Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran )

Their growls were horrifying.

The swoop jockey knew immediately that the things that had been sent after her were not normal stormtroopers, but rather, something else entirely. Some ghastly manner of eldritch abomination that shambled, rather than walked, growled, rather than spoke, and shrieked rather than screamed. Unlike @The Amalgam’s genre savvy battle droids, Eleena had no frame of reference for what she was facing. Upon seeing the creatures, she initially thought them to be extremely sick stormtroopers, somehow molded into a weapon in spite of what appeared to be a severe wasting illness. Nevertheless, Eleena didn’t hesitate in shooting them from the farthest distance the holdout disruptor would reach.

The Twi’lek aimed a shot for the chest of the nearest shambling monstrosity, squeezing the trigger in the hopes that the bolt would render the thing unto ash. Unfortunately, more followed close behind, shambling towards her with unnatural speed until…

She arrived.

Her laser sword, the first of which Eleena had ever seen in her life, soared over her head and sliced through the abominations as a scythe through grass, leaving a group of maimed bodies in her wake as the Witch put herself between Eleena and the hooded figure leading the sickened monstrosities. Eleena gave a relieved breath, recognizing the woman’s voice from their brief exchange over comms as she turned to look at the Amalgam in the flesh. However, she was too shocked to give the woman little more than a nod in response to hearing that there was still a slice of pizza left.

“Yeah! Pick on someone your own size! What’s she worth to you anyways? Don't tell me she's one of your long lost baby mommas!” One of the Nuetralizers who had accompanied The Amalgam called out.

All the while, the engines of Eleena’s swoop roared to life, a relieved expression coming across her pale features as she grabbed the vanes and slammed the accelerator, taking off from the ground in a tight chandelle maneuver.

“I’ll be on point for close support. Thanks for the save.” She said to the Amalgam over comms before taking to the skies once more.

Spoiler: Loadout

• FAE/V-02 “Loralora” Interceptor Hyperswoop Craft
  • Flex Tube Mass Driver Whistling Birds (2)
    • Brilliant Nano Missiles
    • High-Explosive Nano Missile
  • Pilot Gear
    • FAE/A-03 Repulsor Craft Riding Suit
      • Energy Shield
        • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
      • Undersuit
        • UL-14 “Virtus” Class Underlay
    • X7-B “Checkmate” Holdout Disruptor

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud
The Red Witch, The Night Queen, Lady Stuztala, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium, Archon of the Primyn Group​

Location: Rakatan Temple ruins, Generis
Objective III.: Rakatan Temple | Super Weapon
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | The Soulsabers | Heilagr MK. I Assassin Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | G1 OmniLink | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Writing with: Rurik Fel

[ Maybe I should just end it all... ] ​

Yes, she was not entirely human; not at all, Onrai “cursed” her and that fight with the Night Spirit. The Empress, back then only the Overlord survived, but became different, a semi-Force Entity. On the side where the armour burned down because of the lightsaber and reached the woman's side for a moment, black smoke came out of the burned wound. The woman could not accept this condition for a very long time, nor did it help that Adrian even consider her more attractive and beautiful than before. Her second husband and his strange taste, which was linked to power and special Force things.

The armour was still persisting against the attack at the heart's place, but the heat had already burned her skin, leaving more and more damage on the surface that looked like the skin. It was leather right now, but who knows otherwise. The stab did not go as well as she would have liked, she could not blind the man, but at least she wounded him. The weapon was made with devaronian poison, so she could imagine what pain the man could and would have until the injury healed.

She may not have been human anymore, but she took on a perfect human appearance, so the joints in her hand were right there like in a normal human’s case, so Rurik's grip was successful and the vibroblade fell out of Ingrid's hand. At that moment, the lightsaber pierced her armour at the heart’s area and reached her skin. For a moment a bluish aura surrounded the woman - the same colour as Adrian's eyes were - , the amulet with the Sith Lord’s soulshard, only for a moment could Adrian's aura be felt as the shield amulet protected Ingrid from a deadly stab.

The next moment, the blade slid over the woman, however, this no longer caused injury. The woman's hand disappeared from Rurik's hand, the weapons, the armour, and everything the woman was wearing except the necklace fell to the ground. Ingrid became completely immaterial, which saved her from being cut in half by the man. She was completely naked for a few moments, but still in her human form. Stepped back a few as she changed shape and become solid again, wearing a dress as well - although this only seemed so because of the changed form. Ingrid was in her original, human form in the same way, that didn’t change.

Until she is not wearing a dress, the severe burns caused by Rurik were also visible on her side and chest; they hurt a lot but she tolerated it. The weapons flew to the woman the next moment, sweeping the armour aside with telekinetic “attack”. The shatterpoint attack then hit her. It was this level of pain that broke Runi, she heard in her mind again her own voice that she thought of Dantooine. There was no day that she didn’t think of this, no day since then she didn’t digest herself because of it. Ingrid knew this pain very well.

Experienced this pain every day, however, tears still ran down her face, despite her determined and cold look at the man. The only and perhaps first physical weakness the woman showed. After a while, tears turned to black smoke as they would have dropped to the ground from the bottom of her face. Her side ached, it was hard to breathe because of her chest injury. Her respiratory system may have been damaged. However, she did not allow the luxury of showing the pain of these on her. Ingrid was able to hide her pain perfectly, even if she felt it, except the tears…

"Do you really think, Lord Executor, that this will work? I’ve been living with this pain ever since the moment he died, that feeling, that pain didn’t subside for a moment, maybe never will. It is pain and defiance that keeps me alive. You don’t know the pain, what you feel is a little summer breeze compared to this. You are none of the two of us, not me. I have a duty to protect my people and the Empire, to serve the Eternal Empire and its people. Thank you for reminding me of my responsibilities and duties!" her voice is still cold and military, without emotions, but this time it was hard due the physical and mental pain.

The sense of duty won again, which was always stronger than pain and depression. However, she had to gain time, because of her wounds, the man was in a better position because the movement hurt and therefore the woman’s movement could be slower. And Ingrid wasn’t Adrian to turn off her pain receptors so she felt them, all of them. Using telepathy and empathy, tried to convey the shatterpoint’s pain and the normal pain in her anyway into the man to experience the real pain, as she did at Bastion in Runi’s case.

At the same time, she had to do something she didn’t want to, reached into the Force, and began to draw energy from the Nexus to speed up her own regeneration. She had to do it without armour and with her injury… because the woman may have successfully wounded Rurik, but she still had more injuries and more pain than her opponent, even if she showed herself to be strong. This was her duty; never show weakness! Maybe she was strong but she did not feel this…

 

[Lucien Dooku]

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

---

---

The wind gracing his skin was a pleasant addition to what was an increasingly suffocating environment. He took solace in seeing the rays of the sun cut through the settling dust on the far side of the room. Though the Sith brought little fear into his heart, he still couldn't help but feel claustrophobic as the lockdown continued. It was a holdover from those long weeks spent in isolation, where there was nothing but his astromech to keep him company during those first couple years of his exile. Many nights were spent within the cramped cockpit on his ship, or alternatively in some small room that was cheap enough for him to afford.

He never got over that feeling, even as his circle expanded, and relationships developed enough for him to stick around. Luckily the anxiety was a minor aspect of his psyche, and it required nothing more than a solid poker face to mask those feelings beneath the layers of his mental.

Lucien looked down at the woman and shrugged at her line of questioning once more. "Already told you who I am, but you still haven't told me your name." He smiled softly, his tone distinctly more genuine than the teasing that he'd done before. "Regardless-- call it luck, the force, or whatever you believe in, but my being here was mostly a fluke. I had no intention of doing anything but waiting for this battle to be over. It just so happened that I was assigned command over this measly 'outpost', as you put it, while the commanders at the front are busying themselves with the actual warfighting."

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, letting out a sigh that brought the tenseness within his shoulders to a rest. "There's bad people on both sides of the lane. Whether a person is a Sith or a Jedi doesn't matter if their intentions were bad right from the start. There's so much going on in the galaxy that's far more nuanced than your average person would know. I'm still learning just how intricate things can be myself. I mean-- i'm a fething paradox among my kind, whether I like it or not. There's more reasons for me to hate the world around me than the opposite, but you can't let the hate and the anger consume you.

I don't care if you claim to be a Sith; all I see in front of me is someone who's trapped inside the world of the force without the understanding to keep you from eating yourself alive. The corruption will consume you, if you continue on the way you are now. It will infect every part of your being until you're nothing but a hollow shell of what you are now, driven only by madness and corruption alone. I've seen it before, and I refuse to sit back and let it happen to the woman I told you about earlier. You remind me of her in some ways, and I suspect the two of you have much more in common in the present. Maybe that's why I put up with your antics, and provided you an opportunity to learn through this experience." ​