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

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

POST XII
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

Long Overdue I

Still sprinting through the jungle, with every disdainful obscenity he had at his disposal being growled at the wilderness around him, Lord Erskine was seething at his lack of foresight; the fact he hadn't considered how quick Sloane's speeders would breach the Shadow Dome had left the Lord-Major completely isolated and beleaguered, and through the fault and folly of none but Barran himself. With no other choice but to run southwards in search of a working comm-link and/or a friendly mechanised unit to assume temporary control of, Erskine could do nothing but keep his head down and stride onwards for all he thought he was worth, as he continued to run through bushes, mud, corpses and (much to his own rotten luck) multiple hostile arcs-of-fire.

'This is gettin' waaaaaay out o' hand! KARK OFF WAE THE BLASTER FIRE, FREAKS- Eeeyyy, Eeeyyy, EEEYYY!!!! THAT LAST WAN NEARLY GOT ME, YA CHEEKY WEE-', the Lord-Major shouted in a distracted rage, before trailing off at the sight of enemy units giving chase en-masse, bounding towards him at speed from the northeast and the eastern streams that led down towards his generally-desired bearing. Deciding there and then to veer off westward, Barran sprinted in his new heading and jumped through a gap in the bushes ahead to obscure his pursuer's view of his movements, smartly making it easier for himself to move without side-stepping and ducking blaster-fire on his eventful run through the forest. However, even through his most concerted efforts kept him much safer than he had been, Erskine's fortunes would maybe have looked less bleak if he hadn't kept bounding into enemy patrols or trench-networks along his not-so-merry way, a curse of pursuer-collection that seemed to just keep on vexing Barran's escape, no matter how earnestly the Lord-Major tried to stay out of harm's way.

After taking almost fifteen minutes to find a quiet clearing to catch his breath, Barran would slump behind a contorted, overgrown (though dead and brittle) vine of unknown variation, and cough to himself for a while. Aching from head to toe, the Lord-Major knew his best soldiering years were behind him, but the pains were also keeping him from dropping into an exhausted stupor; keeping Erskine alert in the hopes he could survive for as long as the battle had left to conclude in favour of the NIO, unlikely as it seemed to the Lord-Major that he'd live that long on his own, but such thoughts would continually fail to exert lasting effects on his ability to struggle in spite of all hopelessness.

'GALIDRAANI OFFICER, PUT YOUR WEAPON DOWN AND COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!!!'
Words alone cannot describe how much contempt - an' loathing I harbour towards these wretched Sith-Imperials.

Long Overdue II

With what small reprieve he could gain from his short respite, the Lord-Major had no choice but to take what he could get when he ran westward again, jumping through all the obstacles the jungle had to throw in his path once more; with blaster-fire kicking up dirt and splinters everywhere he went, Erskine knew it wouldn't be long before the Sith-Imperials caught him and taken him prisoner, but Barran still persisted in running westward, almost as if he was also racing against the better-judgement that still screamed vehement warnings from within his mind. All the pursuers that Erskine could've possibly picked up along his merry way had seemingly been stumbled upon, and by the most rotten run of luck he'd experienced in a long while, the Lord-Major couldn't help but clench his jaw and curse everything around until something unexpected happened; a random voice to the north started shouting what sounded to Erskine like the amiable insults of an allied soldier, causing him to veer northwards in curiosity, even though his own better-judgement was screaming it's fears louder than ever before.

'OI! YOU LOOK LIKE ASS!', the feminine voice had shouted, with the overheard mutterings of other soldiers nearby also giving the Lord-Major reason to continue proceeding in a northward trajectory. The lady's shouting continued, but from behind his right hearing-periphery, but Barran just kept on running as the unidentified soldier who'd seen him yelled,'Barran! Where's your armor!?', knowing that he had a mob of enemy soldiers trying to catch and/or kill him, gaining ground behind him with every passing second, and were still gaining ground since they'd discovered the little hiding spot. Turning back to put a face to a voice he thought he recognised from both Bastion and Archaisia, The Lord-Major's eyes made contact with the Nuetralizer's chain-gun the lady was holding, and instead of looking upwards to see if they were friendly or not, Barran's sense of self-preservation went into overdrive and sent him careening westward again.
Oh, no no no no no no no no.... Not today, Generis. You're not getting me killed in this god-forsaken jungle, nooo way!

'Kark it all to hell, man! You youngsters are insaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAANE!!!!'

The recognisable starting-screech of an automatic cannon then whirred into life behind him, screaming auditory hell into the contrastingly quiet forest around Major Barran's position, warning of the impending violence as he sprinted faster than ever before to escape the pink-mist creator that was the unnamed woman's chain-gun. Before long, the loud, iconic sustained cacophony of HMG-fire unleashed a hell that Erskine had once wished he'd never experience in his time as an officer, bursting through the treetrunks behind him, but in a mostly-southerly arc of fire; this surprised the Lord-Major at first, causing him to curiously turn back to find out what was happening, but seeing the relief-inducing carnage on his enemies would do little to prepare him for what happened next.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT

'HOLY....'
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT

'HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!'

As soon as Barran turned north to go thank his unlikely new ally, the woman's chain-gun unleashed another, though much-less accurate hail of auto-cannon fire, with three or four of those frighteningly-large rounds hitting the trees, the ground and the bushes behind him with all the force they'd dragged along with them. Even the plant-life around him would shudder under the shock as Erskine stood completely motionless, behaving as if his boots were glued to the spot whilst he continued to ponder on whether the woman was friend or foe. The mixed, contrasting signals of non-aggression and absolute psychopathy were certainly giving the Lord-Major reason enough to drop low and quietly head southward again, wishing, in that most-stressful of moments, for nothing more than to wash his hands of his detrimental sense of curiosity with a renewed sense of finality.

'C'MON LORD-MAJOR, I'LL GET YOU BACK TO YOUR BOYS!!'
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT - BRRRRRRRRRRRRRT - BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT

'BIG GUN GO-'
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT

'Wait a minute...', Major Barran muttered to himself, finally recognising the woman's voice as an ally, and as a rather powerful one at that. Standing up and trying to peer over the bushes without getting himself shot to pink-mist particles, Erskine pondered,'Is that who I think it....?', trailing off to step forth with that persistent, detrimentally-curious lack of self-preservation as he jumped out from the bushes to the right-hand side of the woman's periphery; making sure he wasn't mistaken for an enemy as he held his hands high, looking for familiar features to recognise through the smoky haze created by the heat of the chain-gun's multiple barrels. Taking his time to speak, Erskine decided to wait for the spinning belt to roll to a stop before asking,'Strasza, I presume?', to which a friendly nod had been given in reply, a relief that he'd be glad to accept under the circumstances.

'Good, then you won't mind if an exhausted ally rests for a momen- oh, kark it!', the Lord-Major tried to continue as the cyborg-woman applied the safety to the chain-gun, but failed to complete his question due to the unwelcome return of his lower-back pain, and to such an extreme degree that it forced him to his knees for the second time that day. It was a pain of which that tested his threshold in ways he hadn't known for decades, and in that moment, not even the Sith-Spawn that got him managed to inflict as much pain as his lower-back muscles were; and when Erskine opened his eyes, he saw Strasza kneeling down to search his back for blaster-wounds, cuts or blade-punctures, but the Lord-Major thought he could see someone else, standing almost five paces behind the (seemingly oblivious) allied cyborg.
Shugg? Is that - you? But you're not - here, though. You're on the other side o' that dome. But if you're both here and...

'Strasza- Strasza! Listen to me, Major; I need to know if your unit has a spare comm-device, there's something I need to find out and I need to know for sure before I can proceed. Please tell me your squad has a working comm-device spare!'

​

​

 

[Darth Ahriman]

Allies: Saket Keane & The Sith Empire.
Opposition: Aaran Tafo , GA & NIO.
Inventory: Simple Jedi Robes, Jedi Training Saber.

​

Between the Sith Acolyte and the Jedi, Valen found himself unable to decide which of them were more convincing of the situation. Most people he had met had claimed the Sith to be outwardly hostile, but then there was the Jedi who seemed to speak ill of other Jedi as well.

For Valen, the Silver Jedi had been kind, taking him in and helping him to recover from a trauma that he otherwise would have likely been lost to. He had left them not for how they behaved but because he believed remaining there would mean a lifetime wasted, seeing him no closer to his goal than he had been as a slave.

Valen's gaze darted back to Saket Keane as hewatched his lightsaber be recovered, the hilt now in the hands of the Sith, the youngest of the three moving to take a step forward out of share instinct, his desire to see the weapon returned to him, however, his conscience kicked in and told him not to make any sudden moves, the wrong one could well see him killed.

"I'll take what I can get..." Valen replied warily, eying the Acolyte who soon enough gestured for him to take back his hilt. Moving in closer, the boy looked to Saket's helm, trying not to make eye contact yet unable to wonder what lay beneath it. He reached for his lightsaber, and then stepped back several paces with a little more haste.

He had made an ally among the Sith, it seemed.

You, Geht them.
We destroy device. We then go to Dromund Kaas.
​

Turning to look to the Jedi, Valen inhaled quietly, hoping that the next few moments wouldn't result in his having to harm Aaran Tafo , or rather more likely be harmed by the Jedi for his training would far exceed any skill of Valen's own.

His objective was clear, the satchel within the Jedi's possession needed to be turned over to the Sith, yet of course, Valen couldn't see that happening willingly.

"Help me out here, Jedi. I need this".

 

[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

Violet watched impassively as Marcis' writhed in her pain.

She derived no pleasure from it.

good. do not hesitate, but never wade in it. This is the Light.

This was a truth. It felt wrong, but her mind knew it was right. Sometimes you had to do bad things, horrifying things, because the alternative was to just lie down and let fate take you. Unacceptable. Violet knew this now and that was enough. Her eyes slid away from the sight, back towards the prone form of Dagon and then farther towards the corridors around them.

kill the Sith. It will be easy now.

"He's not a threat anymore." he will be in the future. End him now and he won't ever be a threat again. "That takes his choice away. Even this one can be better." and what if he proves weak... human and hurts others? you don't have the right to make that choice for them. "And neither do I have the right to make this one." The presence didn't like it, it growled inside of her, but then... it subsided.

It was weak, wasn't it?

All these displays of power- it couldn't fight anymore. Yes, that was the reason why this was so easy. Why Violet... yes, why Violet could make the choice.

She closed her eyes and attempted to slip through the cracks of Sorr's mind. Just as the Sith's attention was focused on keeping the pain at bay, she'd move in from a different direction. All of it an attempt to erase this encounter from his mind. It was too soon to reveal herself... itself. Violet growled as that proved... difficult.

Too difficult.

She didn't have that kind of powers, not without his permission, and its sleeping mind struggled against her efforts even while distracted.

The one thing, the only thing she could do? Blur their faces. Fade the encounter. The fight had happened, it was horrifying, agonizing. There was real fear here that could rise up and overtake the memories. Maybe this way Marcis wouldn't remember them. Just a tortured experience to learn from, but never to think about too deeply.

Maybe that would be enough, if it would take.

Violet was about to withdraw.... and then did one last thing-

be better than you are right now. no one is truly gone. this is not your real destiny.

Then Violet slipped out, leaving the Sith behind, moving to sling Dagon over her shoulder with ease. How come it was so easy? Dagon was several sizes larger and heavier than her. And yet... it was easy.

The more distance was created between Violet and Marcis the more the pain subsided. Until it centered around a dull headache at the back of his eyes. Every pulse there was a faint whisper.

be better.

The unspoken words followed: or else.

 

[Ren-Hua Mant]

​

Allies: TSE
Opponents: Caarlyle Rausgeber | NIO

The hollow ringing through her head was about as constant as an imperial presence in a war. Dazed but less confused, Ren-Hua stumbled to her feet. The psychological fatigue from her near death experience felt almost as exhausting as high intensity physical stress. After checking herself for wounds, she looked up in the dimly lit maintenance shaft to count how many had made it with her. Whether it was by some stroke of luck or careful calculation she couldn't bear to ponder, but somehow her entire marine complement had made it aboard. About a dozen people, herself included, now up against the tens of thousands of war-minded imperials aboard the Tregessar.

Though confident she and her crew could easily outmatch the rank and file of the New Imperial Order, they had the numbers, they had the home field advantage, and depending upon how one looked at it, they were more disposable. All such things spelled a great uncertainty for the immediate future of Ren-Hua and her crew.

"Oye, skippah. This is maintenance corrido', connect to much larga' network of other less traveled paths. Slowa, but I dun think we got much choice.", her slicer said as he unplugged his cybernetics from the ship's systems.

Fast and hard or slow and easy. One didn't match her style, but the other would plummet their chances of success. It'd be hard for her to not choose the course of action she preferred.

"Lead the way.", she said.

As they traversed the maintenance corridors, the omnipresent squeal of the ship's klaxon sirens and fluttering of groups of footsteps kept them on edge.

It had been close to half an hour before Ren-Hua ordered the group to a halt.

No. At this pace, she'd turn grey before reaching the bridge. Besides, something was wrong. The Tregessar was an absolute unit, and it had been actively engaging Sith-Imperial forces when the Starling had moved in. There's no way they could know they were there.

Except...

The shuttle hadn't been cloaked. It could have been picked up on their systems. It had to have, that's why the shuttles didn't make it. They had to open the airlock themselves remotely, and there was little reason Ren-Hua could think of in which the New Imperials would have found reason to. As confident as she was in her slicer's abilities, there was the very real possibility that their location would have been revealed as he accessed the ship's systems. As airtight as their plan had been, it was full of exploitable holes.

Ren-Hua halted, grunting in a sudden realization of her foolishness.

Noticing her halt, her crew turned, confusedly inquiring as to what could have been wrong. They hadn't yet been engaged in conflict after all.

"This is almost to easy...", she muttered to herself.

So as to project confidence to her own crew, she looked up with a more determined look on her face. "Change of plans, boys."

While some looked concerned as to the unexpected change of pace, others had looked more giddy that they would get to lay waste to some of the neat and orderly imperials in the heart of their own fleet.

"Say no mo', skippa."

With an about face to the front, the group found itself to the closest door from which they could exit to the main corridors. After stacking on the door, the door wooshed open and the group quickly funneled out to cause some chaos.

The chance to do some shooting somewhat assuaged Ren-Hua's nerves. As the group filtered in, there was a distinct lack of blaster fire. Her heart sunk into the deepest pit it could find. This meant one of two things. Either there were no imperials there, or...

As she rounded the corner into the more brightly lit corridors of the New Imperial flagship, her men were all bunched together, weapons pointed at the dozens of stormtroopers which had engulfed the area. As if the sudden transition in atmospheric brightness wasn't enough, the glare of bright white armor of the stormtroopers which they had found around them was just as blinding. They were outnumbered at least five to one.

They didn't ask it, but her crew was all waiting for her direction. Initiating a firefight would be suicide, and Ren-Hua liked living.

After a quick scan of her surroundings, she looked for who could possibly be the ranking trooper or officer on scene. Maybe she could appeal to their sense of survival as well.

"If you fire, you'll just trigger all our hair-trigger thermal detonators. I can't imagine your superiors would take kindly to you allowing such..."

Before she could finish speaking, she collapsed to the ground. Semi-conscious but unable to move, she saw the bodies of her comrades thud as they hit the floor. Normal stormtroopers didn't have the gall to make these kind of plays.

As a scarred officer loomed over her to examine their capture, it became a little clearer.

These weren't normal stormtroopers.

 

[Viers Connory]

//: G E N E R I S //:
//: Allies //: Viera //:
//: Engaging //: Alina Tremiru //: Darth Strosius //:
//: M A N E A T E R //:

​

Viers still had an advantage. Being able to see every movement was significant despite Alina's ability to see through the Force. With facial expressions, tiny twitches, and tells, Viers was able to see it all. The padawan showed her confusion as the Sith was able to still move and block attacks. She was more in tune than Viers had realized with the Force - a formidable opponent. For once, Viers felt fear for her life as she wondered where this battle would end, how it would end. Even with the Force, she felt heavy and tired with every move she made. ​

Time was running out, and while Viers was feeling the fatigue, she didn't get the same impression from the fanged Sith. The girl's face showed that toothy smirk and Viers gulped, knowing that it only meant bad things were about to happen when a Vampire smiles. ​

Remembering the quick footwork she had seen Kaska perform when they were on Jakku against the raiders, Viers took a step to the left, crossing for just a moment. Her feet and cross-step twist allowed her to dance around the surprise saber that would have ended it all. With one of Alina's hands occupied elsewhere, Viers put weight on the pike, pushing it down and out of the way. Seeing how close she was to the Vampire, she swung her head back and then forward-looking to head butt the Sith as hard as she could. ​

"I said GOOD NIGHT, MA'AM!" Whatever happened next, Viers took the opportunity to continue the fancy footwork and disengage with the pike-wielding, secret saber stabbing, bloodthirsty Sith.​

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Opposition: Saket Keane
Turncoat: Valen​

"Yeah, I'm not getting on my knees. I've been more than accommodating to you." Aaran dryly remarked, absently inspecting his recently burned palm, the bacta finally properly kicking in and granting him improved relief. The pain now finally fully numbed. The treatment would deal with the any risk of infection. But a proper fix would require either time or more bacta than hat was in his small dispensary.

It was a curious thing for Saket to feel. Despite being seemingly unarmed, and now even outnumbered with Valen solidifying his desire to join the ranks of the Sith Empire. There was not so much as the vaguest flicker of worry or anxiety. All that could be felt was a sense of empathy for Valen's situation. He knew what the Padawan turned Acolte's mind would be going through. The need to find answers, to gain the strength to accomplish one's goals, no matter what the mean. Thinking you needed to sink to depths you previously thought beyond your sensibilities to achieve your aims. Below even that, deeper within the core emotional makeup that made Aaran the person he was. Was a deep, constant sense of melancholy. He was not angry, or worried or even bitter at Valen’s choice. There was simply a deep pervading sense of sorrow that seemed to be in every action the Jedi performed.

And surpassing all Valen's previous preconceptions. Aaran merely shrugged at the requst to hand over his ordinance. One hand reaching into the satchel, he pulled from it a plain wooden mask. Gnosis, his family heirloom. Brought here on the chance that he ended up encountering a Sith that was more dangerous than a misguided young man and an angry acolyte who's hate was not truly his own.

It was meant to be used to fight the wicked. Not the lost.

Safely tucking the mask under his arm, with one smooth motion he tossed the satchel through the air towards Valen. Waiting for that moment when basic instincts would kick in any the acolyte's eyes would be drawn to the flying object. It was then he moved. His form a blur, his steps like the wind. The Force granting him celerity far beyond what a human should be capable. He rapidly closed the distance between him and Valen. The fresh convert having made the decision to ask for the equipment, he volunteered himself as tribute for the Jedi's next tactic.

But instead of striking like one might expect. Aaran's arm would instead attempt to snake around Valen's shoulder. In what many could see as an attempt at camaraderie. As if he was greeting the younger man as an old friend and not a member of an opposing religious sect.

Even the positioning of his body was curious. The specific placement he took would even leave him in between Valen and Saket. Not using the fresh acolyte as a human shield. But instead putting himself in a more vulnerable position. "Alright then!" He said, tone cheerful. "Let’s go blow up a superweapon shall we?"

 

[Paz Koon]

THE RAKATAN TEMPLE
Purge The Dark
Kainan | Kascalion Giedfield

​

Paz twisted, half swording the blade as he charged was stifled. She weaved, ducked, and eventually vaulted herself with the blade into the ground. One of the crimson blades caught her cloak, sundering it into two tatters as she leaped away. She landed hard to one knee, tumbling once as her blade clattered onto the ground beside her. Attempting to raise it, a sharp pain twinged through her arm. Broken. When or how, she didn't know. Adrenaline had spared her the initial pain.

She stagged against the blade, using one arm to right herself with the blade stuck between a crack for leverage. The Imperial Knight armor now exposed, marred with scratches and a myriad of scorch marks from an eventful tenure. Her breathing muffled into a mechanical resonance as the old seer struggled to gain her bearing. Even a fight this short was hell on her in near middle age. She coughed, exhaustion rattling in her throat. The blade ground against the stonework as one arm heaved back onto her shoulder.

One deep breath came in the rebreather and he posture grew stronger, though she was still bent slightly to compensate the Pale Blade. Broken appendage hanging at once side, she charged forward again. The blade dropped, dragging against the stone and kicking sparks as she closed the distance. A surge of strength brought the blade up above her head, gravity taking over to plummet toward The Devil.

At the last moment, she twisted, feinting the strike to the side. It dipped low, a wide, vicious arc trajecting toward the ankles of the demon. The pain, the exhaustion, all muffled beneath the last pump of adrenaline that threw the blade forward.

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

LOCATION: Chancellor’s Situation Room, Coruscant
OBJECTIVE: III - Rakatan Temple
ALLIES: Adhira Chandra | Brama Tagge | Annasari | Caatua Ga | Donavon Arturo | Gat Tambor | Maou
ENEMIES: TSE - open, message to coordinate
KIT: Lesser Ring of the Protected Mind | Visions of Gold | Attire
POST: III

SAME ENERGY

Tithe’s attention moved to the battle raging around and inside the Rakatan temple. The ancient yet potent superweapon contained within had become the bloody focus of the carnage which raged across Generis, with both sides fighting to seize or destroy the grievous device. The latest briefings from the SIA advised that various galactic powers were devoting significant resources to researching and developing weapons of unfathomable destruction. The age of superweapons would soon dawn across the galaxy.

Reports and updates scrolled across the holoterminals which littered the command centre, feeding a constant stream of data to the Galactic Alliance observers. Unable to take action, Tithe could only sit and watch as friends, colleagues and allies faced off in deadly combat. Enlil , who had worked alongside the Vice Chancellor in the failed attempt to seize control of Tiss’sharl though a corporate take-over, was engaged in fierce fighting with a Sith Lord near the ancient weapon. Elsewhere, Ingrid L'lerim and Rurik Fel debated the morality of the battle in the face of the Byrn’dul threat before hurling themselves at one another. While she was fighting for the Sith, the Vice Chancellor still respected the Empress and would have preferred to not see her slain. Outside the temple, Jedi of the NJO faced off against a bizarre assortment of organic droids and spell casters. The bodies of the slain Jedi littered the forecourt of the temple as their untouchable enemy - understood to be aligned with the Silver Jedi Concord - cut through their ranks.

During his years of business dealings, the Aargauun had made a point of personally attending important negotiations and meetings. At Tiss’sharl and Ziost - seeing the key moments these battles represented for the Alliance - he had placed himself in harms way against his better judgement. To sit back and watch while others fought and died in his name was more gut-wrenching than the had anticipated. Certainly, it was not a question of trust - as his colleagues observed, the New Imperial Order was more than capable of besieging and capturing the planet. Rather, it was his inability to shape the battle, to contribute his skills and experience.

While he was far from an adept warrior, Tithe’s cunning, business experience and negotiating skills had served him well in engagements all across the galaxy. To sit by idle, unable to steer the course of the battle, was akin to passively investing and hoping for the best - an act considered too shameful to speak of on his profit-obsessed planet of Aargau.

Leaning back in his chair he continued to study the updates coming through. They’d reestablished tracking on Commissioner Djorn Bline who was fighting… something - intelligence was getting conflicting reports and working to validate the combat footage before providing an update. A report quickly flashed up announcing that country to previous intelligence, the Sith weren’t proceeding with their plan to relocate their capital to Serenno - an issue with paperwork evidently.

The death toll of Alliance forces - Jedi, Marines and Navy personnel - continued to climb as the Sith and their allies cut a swath through their lines. While the Imperator would undoubtedly bury more of his people, the cost of the Alliance of the war was becoming increasingly far to justify on the floor of the Senate and to his constituents. They needed a decisive victory, and soon, to sure up public support.

“We've held this stock far too long,” he commented to Adhira and Brama. “It's time to cash out this deal before we're left with nothing. The Sith must be eliminated, and soon, lest our own people turn against us. They will only suffer the deaths of their children for so long.”

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

T h e _ R e n e g a d e
Task //: Seek and Destroy
Tenebrae Armor / Hand Of God / BH 'Durin' Charric Blaster Pistol / Light Saber
Allies : Kascalion Giedfield
Enemies : Ravraa Vyshraal Lucien Dooku
No Church In The Wild

“You were too scared to ask, but so was everyone else.”​

It was a sweet but ugly truth that passed from the forefront of her mind and soared across the bond that shackled the two individuals. It was wrong and debased, steaming from her pride as she brushed him aside. The pain that was mounting-was nigh intolerable as it echoed with visions of what she had been robbed of. It stared in her chest, she needed her to deny it. His own peace passed closely at her fingertips like lapping of water, it was cruel. She accepted the truth for what it was. They were diverging and where she stood fell short of his own inherent presence in the light and it suffocated her.

What could it offer her but half baked justice, the lies of the man at the helm of their ship. Sybila would cut a bloody swarth. There was no bitterness and she gifted him no obligation-she expected him not to follow. It stretched before her like thin veins, so delicate but taunt as like wire ready to snap but holding true. She could reach out and snap them apart but her hands did not raise-did not dare try. The jungle floor was flecked like a broken mirror as the Force hummed indefinitely and a rush of sheer energy passed over her-the woman could sense his struggle and greatest-the frustration.

“Patience in my Lucien Dooku? The galaxy has turned upside down..” Sybila almost wanted to laugh, teasing him. He was out there somewhere staring down the impossible surely, finding a foothold in it. She didn’t expect anything less of the man. ​

Torn between the dwindling bond-his path was leading him elsewhere and her chest rose shakily. Shedding him was just another step forward, there were a thousand words that crawled toward the tip of her tongue and wounded herself. The simplicity of dedication, so pure, would serve to be twisted and skewed in her climb. She didn’t need him to be caught in the crossfire. Sybila would craft her own heaven before she unveiled the broken bones and bleeding flesh it had all cost. If she could spare them all-no..none of it mattered she reminded herself gently.

Around her amidst the burnt and splinter wood, and fallen tree-the battle seemingly halted and the absence of gunfire painted an eerie image. Ravraa Vyshraal had listened at the least. Fleeting and slowly evaporating the smoke and cloud of dust faded in the air, revealing the endless march of soldiers and the Imperial’s armor. Sybila looked upon it fondly as the a vortex spiraled slowly from trail left in the wake of the woman, a line gouged in the earth that separated Sybila from the likes of the soldiers; the line she had drawn herself .

Sybila placed no blame at the feet of the princeling, only appreciation and thanks.

Above all he had done more and was not subject of her wrath..no the blinding hot wrath that collected in her- It belonged to only a select few. Whatever had collected in the well of their bond gone and it snapped shut by her instantly, taking with it the thrum of power as he withdrew and she too folded. This guilt that had been unveiled hammered at her ribs and bursted in her chest unexpectedly-Sybila didn’t want it. It was far too painful of a reminder of her mortality, what Kascalion and exploited and let rot away at her until this was all that was left.

“Perhaps, we’ll see what tomorrow brings Luc,” Sybila whispered, shaking off the shroud of reveries as Khos’s pale limb cracked contorted, rising from desolate grounds in shambles before her. The fires grew harsher and the world came crashing down all around in clarity. A hot exhale clouded her vision and Sybila’s form lurched forward like a dog prowling-and the breath drew in to a hiss and she bore her teeth; blinded by mounting tears.

“I’m not here for you old sport!” Sybila jeered, her voice was a stranger’s. Teetering somewhere else and present still as she drank in the depths of the hell and emotion. Her first had planted a set of rank bars on the torgruta’s chest-a series of memory slipping down into the abyss.

They had been friends, and she could feel the soldier’s commitment to the line. The one they all had served and she wanted to laugh. When he would see it was pointless, it would never end and he should of never- Sybila scoffed, no one was ever going to thank them.

“How about I let you win this one soldier!” she graciously tossed out. “This one here want’s to go a round!”

The Sith’s blades ignited and Khos stumbled forward-form blurring as Sybila’s eyes fluttered to clean away the slate. The Force lashed out like a flail from the woman assaulting her senses and Sybila rebuked it, flinching as it raked across her mind. Her brows furrowed unseen as she batted aside the insinuation, traitorous was flecked from the Sith’s mind.

“Kascalion won’t let you survive the day you traitorous queen!” Khos screamed, blood streaming from broken nose.

“I won’t force your hand Ravraa, but let’s put this one in the dirt like the good ole times!” Sybila offered, shifting-waiting for the woman to snap. It was too self assured to believe he’d take it.

But what sane man would pass up the opportunity to see their enemy driven before them.

Sybila let the pitiless thing inside her ignite, spreading across her body as her foot slid back. Even if he refused, and clung to his olive branch-she’d gladly finish this herself. The woman's shadowy form tensed as rage erupted from beneath her skin. Her arm stroked high and flourished her own lightsaber silently as Khos leveled two blades upon her.

The woman did not advance but instead, they stepped warily around-circling each ever so slowly through the grove trees as the Imperial force could look on. Sybila’s blade cut a clean image across the jungle as she mirrored Khos slowly, waiting as her eyes picked the woman’s defense apart. There was no one like their shared tormentor and Master and Sybila was disappointed as the Force collected and fled behind the dual wielder.

Khos did not track her slight of hand, she was only bred for back street scraps not the field. She had come to rely upon a second blade, but the hilt of the saber was seamlessly between her grip. Sybila rolled her shoulder lightly, servo hissing as the artificial limb stretched. Khos was nothing more than a blinded child, and there was no hesitation to take that away from her, taking her limb, taking her life-

It brought her too much joy-truly, the two slipped in to a standoff waiting for a single misstep as they circled each other like wolves.

 

[The Amalgam]

Ursula Sandraven hip fired her pump action shotgun in front of a fifteen year old Laertia Io in the fields of Dantooine.

"Hand-Eye Coordination, Posture, and Instinct are all essentials to being a good Marksman..." Ursula explained to the spiky jacketed teenager, showing her a proper rapid reload technique. The gray eyed girl stared, riveted as the white catsuit clad Twi'lek with purple skin finished loading and shot down every fast moving target on a motorized track.

"But more important than any of that is the willingness to kill whatever you point your weapon at. In this, you must be absolute and unyielding. Wielding a weapon is deadly serious. Especially firearms. Never point your weapon at anything you don't intend to shoot." Ursula told her after emptying her shotgun. She handed it to Laertia.

"Do it like I showed you."

To Ursula's hidden pride, Laertia began rapidly loading the Shotgun, and Ursula reset the targets on their mechanical tracks.

"Good..." Ursula said, getting behind Laertia as she set the targets to high speed on their tracks. "Remember...commit...but don't think about it..."

Laertia fired and missed. She fired again and missed.

"You're too stiff. Too nervous..." Ursula critiqued. "In a real gunfight, you won't always have time to aim down the sights, especially with fast moving targets at very close ranges...shooting must be reflexive. Your mind must remember exactly where your hands are pointing the barrel at all times. Its best if you do it without the Force also. Some things are best built on a foundation of sheer muscle memory, with the Force supplementing afterwards..."

Laertia took a deep breath, released it, and fired.

It was a partial grazing hit. Laertia took a deep breath.

"Feel the shot...don't think about it..." Ursula urged.

Laertia fired and hit the next three targets from the hip, but managed only a grazing shot on the last two. Laertia began to reload as Ursula had taught her.

"Its a good start. Keep at it. If only I could get you enthusiastic like this about pistols..." Ursula remarked.

"I'll allwayyz preferrz wepunnz leegullee klassyfyed az Destruktiv Devycez..." Laertia joked.

This got a rare laugh out of Ursula.

"Laertia...when I'm done with you..." Ursula chuckled, resetting all the targets on the motorized track with a remote.

"You'll BE The Destructive Device, not the shotgun."

"Duzz lerrnyngz howw tuh kyllz lyke dhis reelee serrvz duh Wyl ov Duh Foyce?" Laertia asked.

"When it comes to serving the will of the Force, it tends to end in someone getting a Dirt Nap. Might as well be the best at forcing the enemies of the Galaxy to take one."

Laertia thought about this a moment before resuming firing...

Later, they had trained in Knife Fighting.

The Streets had come out in Laertia as they sparred. It was with a blade, Ursula knew, that Laertia truly shined.

The Snow-Pale Teen circled Ursula. Her double edged trench-knife with its knuckle guard glimmered slightly less than Ursula's dagger, a double edged knife like Laertia's, but balanced for throwing.

Ursula had been caught off guard the first time. Laertia's immense, unnatural physical strength was something that needed constant accounting for in a close range duel.

The Teen sprang forward. Ursula never used training knives. Her student needed to remember the threat of steel in every fight, training or for real. Every Knife fight must be an actual Knife Fight. Nothing less would advance Laertia, her diamond in the rough.

Ursula made sure not to try and grapple Laertia too much. Even so young and relatively unskilled, Laertia could overpower her in a sheer contest of muscle. She ducked and dodged, used Laertia's momentum against her.

"Too aggressive. Too flashy..." Ursula chided, flipping Laertia onto her back and holding her dagger point to her Padawan's throat.

"Only go for the most pragmatic approach in battle. Don't waste energy if you don't have to. Always be prepared to kill an opponent in a duel."

Laertia swiped the knife away with her own, and launched a kick that connected with Ursula's shoulder, sending her tumbling backward across the training floor, as Laertia leapt up with the momentum of her swinging legs as she got up, inverting her knife and swinging for Ursula's vitals, Ursula defending patiently against aggressive yet more controlled slashes and stabs. But it was a very difficult defense...wielding a knife was second nature to Laertia. Ursula knew there was only a little more she could be taught in that area. But Ursula would teach it.

As Laertia closed the distance again with a controlled slash, Ursula shot forward blocking with the hand holding the knife...and dropping it into her other hand, which then inflicted a minor slice on the side.

Laertia stumbled back, holding her side, but pointing the knife at Ursula. It said much of Laertia's outlook on life and friendship that she was smiling instead of questioning the brutality of the training as a normal person would have.

"Dhatz a streetz muuv! I seenz itz buhforez, but I nevuh haddz duh kurrage tuh tryyz it..." Laertia said, a big smile on her face. "Yurr frummz duh streetz tooz..."

"Who dares, wins." Ursula said, though she raised an eyebrow of Laertia's analysis of her fighting.

"Wutt streetz werr yooz rayzed onnz, Ursy? Nobuddy getz dhat goodz wyth a Knyfe unless dhey beenz innz an Alleyz." Laertia asked, stepping forward eyes glittering with fascination.

At this Ursula said nothing. She had been found alone and naked without memory in an abandoned bunker by Hiram Loste.

"I...I'll tell you all about it someday. I promise..." Ursula answered her Padawan gently. "For now, go tend to that wound..."

Laertia nodded, though it was clear she was more fascinated by Ursula than ever as she left.

Ursula felt bad about not being able to answer as her student left. She decided to get the girl another rabbit when she had the chance, as she knew Laertia loved rabbits...

Present.

The Amalgam rolled her eyes at the smartass tone Halketh put on a deliberately stinging tone to try and get under her skin. What did he think this was, Beginners Dun Moch? A person like him should know how to troll harder than that.

It was all she could do not not to crack a smile as he took time to explain the difference between the Sith and the NIO. He looked so amusing, like a schoolboy answering with rote information.

"Oh. Please." The Amalgam scoffed. "When the NIO does cool chit like the Zombies its almost like they might as well not have left the Sith. You motherfethers are halfway into turning into us already, and you can't even see it. Hell, I got running bets with a few Sith Lords as to how long it'll be before you fething heathens turn on the GA and try and kill Jedi the same way we would."

His orange blade flashed on.

"Oh, I'm definitely going to teach you respect..." The Amalgam said playfully, spinning her staff. She turned to the Nuetralizers that had accompanied her.

"Do what you were made for." She ordered.

The Nuetralizers backed away to go aid the Droids and Witches, who, despite being close to overwhelmed still were decimating the Zombies and Stormtroopers. The Nuetralizers had figured out a sweeping pattern with their Cryo lasers and Ion Disruptors, enabling to hit forty percent more enemies than they otherwise would have. Stormtroopers died from the bio assault sprays in their chest, even as a scant few more of the deadly warbots were damaged beyond repair.

The Amalgam threw out the combined will of all the evil minds inside her, a dark, rotting Nexus in her body empowering her as she attempted to enter his mind, to drive and conjure horrors from his own subconscious to break him as she dashed forward, purple blades in the Niman Style, with elements of Juyo and Soresu mixed with it as she spun it for his midsection, keeping tight control of the fierce vicious attempt to break him mentally even as she attacked him physically...

Meanwhile...

While DECEASED Erskine Barran and Noel Strasza met and worked out plans, a lone Nuetralizer Sniper, hidden behind boulders in the jungle, took aim with an anti-material rifle, waiting until they fully had the others attention.

"Surprise, Motherfether..." it said in a whisper, firing at her chest with an explosive round, not telling if she or Erskine would dodge it in time...

Meanwhile...

As the shieds on the tank of Jax Sloane were ripped away by lightning yet he continued, a Nuetralizer nearby sprinted, and leapt onto the tank, trying to get to Sloan and burn him as it climbed the vehicle.

"LET'S BOOGIE, CHITHEAD!" it yelled as it unleashed the flames from its throat...

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Armor: X | Lightsaber: X | Lightsaber Shoto: X | Right Arm: X
Objective 3: Rakatan Secrets
Primary RP Opponents: Kainan | Paz Koon
Overarching Opponents: NIO | TSE | Respective Allies
Overarching Allies: Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
NPC Allies: Sith Warlords Conscript Corps (10,000)
NPC Fleet (Can be Played By Me for Free Fleeters): Hallowed Grave, Tuk'ata-Class Qotsisajakaar Battleships, Mutate-Class Carriers, UR-15 Lightning Strike Gunship, UR-15 Thunder's Roar Starfighter, UR-13 Crimson Bolt Interceptor
Theme: I Am The Animal

​

Where his Shoto found light cuts on the young Imperial - nearly striking the Cortosis weave in the armor - the man found his own purchase, and blood seeped and steamed from six or more cuts. That was not including those about to be inflicted by the Kel Dor, whose assault was as majestic as it was savage with pressing vengeance. Both had achieved more than most that had faced the Devil, which only showcased the power of a unified desire for Imperialistic victory and selfish vengeance.

Indeed, while they may not have been masters like the Devil in terms of the Force or combat, they were equally impressive for their own rights and the Devil could not ignore the fact that they had gained something of a foothold in his narrative. Granted, this was certainly because he had subconsciously allowed them to attain this rather than outright crush them like the insects they were, but it was impressive nonetheless to see them reach for the brass ring hanging above them on the ladder.

This subtle awe found further growth when the young Knight suddenly disengaged from the fight to further his goals, ostensibly concerning the ancient relic as well. The Devil would have intervened had the Kel Dor not been present, but it was made quite clear that this story was not to advance that far just yet.

And so, his full attention was given to the Baran Do survivor who came at him with her blade of the stars. With both hands now free from dual opponents, the Devil was able to maneuver his body into a successful defensive stance of Jar'Kai against the wide sword.

A quick clash and display of agility saw the Kel Dor twirl away, cloak now in tatters after the crimson blade tore it asunder in a slash angled for the middle of her spine. The pain that radiated throughout her body as she fell to one knee indicated to the Devil that, at some point in their brief bout, her arm had been cracked. A gaze through the blackened Force of the temple saw the fractures within, the skeletal structure of the Kel Dor on full view like an x-ray in the eyes of the skeletal giant.

Then she charged and, with what strength remained in an admirable showing of resilience, struck for him once more and twisted her strike in such a way mid-swing into an arc singing for his ankles. Only in those brief seconds did the Devil turn half of his gaze onto the returning young Knight whose onslaught curved through the air, low and hard, for his wounded thigh. Attention to both assailants returned at the last second - the worst second - and one strike was certain to hit. A weakness of the mind? No... the enjoyment of the story. An appreciation of the efforts to kill him, which would most certainly not happen this day.

But which attack was the better to endure? Either would hobble his ability to walk if the purchase was made, and it would be. He had to block one or dodge it, move into one strike and resist the other. Without any further delay, inches before both strikes found his flesh, he moved his crimson blade to deflect -

A shockwave from the relic within the temple hit his sternum through the walls like a cannon, knocking his blades away from their intended spots and himself with them. Both strikes, hard and sharp, found their marks still, although not as deep as their initiators likely intended. A gouge just above his kneecap, sinew and muscle charred and orange with thick rivulets of blue-blood dripping from the cut veins. And a slash just above his Achilles' tendons, not far enough down his calf to ruin his ability to walk entirely, but enough to cause considerably acute pain. And still, he did not cry out in agony nor curse his foes. Instead, he rolled with the shockwave and the impact of the strikes and fell to his knees, sliding across the rough floor of the temple, and disengaged his weapons, clipping them to his infernal belt of leather.

With an abrupt cackling laugh as he looked upon them - an eldritch and rumbling sound - he stuck his hands forth and from the tips of his fingers came searing black lightning. The sound that accompanied it was, strangely, not that of Force Lightning that others had heard, but more akin to that of a hissing snake in the midst of a rainstorm. A power that, if struck upon a normal individual, would char them to cinders and ash in seconds - if not nanoseconds depending on their equipment and resiliency - and could rend apart the stonework of the temple like a doctor undoing stitches. Vacuity it was called. Power of the ancients.

 

[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

Grin turned to confusion. Alina, sightless, was unable to see where exactly Viers went. She could feel the Force and how it was tugged, but that didn't mean she could actually see the Jedi. The reason she struck first was to make Viers have to be the one to react. For exactly this reason. Her pike wasn't easy to lower. The unnatural might she had showed just why Alina was alright with holding the weapon in one hand. Momentary resistance, then it plunged.

The Sith kept the spear under her armpit so she could at least keep control of it, but now her arm was forced down. She had to lean forward to keep her grip. "What are you even tal-" The good night thing didn't make sense. At first. Then there was a searing pain in her face and a crack. Alina sputtered as she stumbled to the side. That.. Her nose! The padawan broke her nose! She already could feel the hairline fracture that was there. Had she still been human, it'd of been completely shattered.

Instead blood poured free. Her own blood. The copper scent made it nigh impossible for her to keep track of where the Padawan was. The Acolyte panicked. Now blind and unable to smell, she could only hear the hum of the Jedi's sabers to figure out where she might be. In that panic she ripped her blade around. Just a wide arc to keep the padawan back.

She didn't even realize the Jedi was running away.

"Damnit!"

 

[Eira Dwynwen]

Tag: Djorn Bline | Loske Treicolt
Equipment: Vibrosword, one dagger
Attire: Super Practical Jungle Outfit
Allies: TSE
Enemies: NIO
​

The guy didn't seem to be too bothered by his injury and was more focused on some Loske, Eira looked around and there seemed to be no one around. She wasn't sure who he was calling to, the creature had called itself Shursia, whatever that meant. Eira could only think that perhaps underneath the black goo was meant to be someone soldier boy recognised. Eira offered her hand and tried to help the guy out, all he was doing was shouting and creating noise, which was likely to either bring back the creature that had disappeared or bring some other kind of opponent that would cause them both trouble. Especially since Eira was kinda forced to be around this guy and keeping him alive, a task will be difficult if he running around after a ghost.

Sighing, Eira looked over to the soldier then slapped his face firmly. "Hey, I don't know who Loske is, but that creature is gone. It has gone and we need to focus on surviving this battle and making sure we ain't getting captured!" Eira growled as she hoped to slap some sense into the soldier as she needed him to focus on the battle and the risky situation that they were in, not someone who was long gone and clearly wasn't going to come back any time soon. "Stop shouting around like a maniac because it will only draw Sith here and since the last fight left you seriously harmed, I don't think we will have much luck against them." Eira stated in a cool tone.

Lifting his arm over her shoulders so that he could lean on her, "so, focus, what direction should we head to find your people? We aren't chasing a ghost, we need to survive this so what direction should we head in?"

 

[Kainan]

Y O U N G _ C O N Q U E R O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LEGATE ACTUAL
KNIGHT OF THE EMPIRE
Armour | Lightsaber
Proximity: Kascalion Giedfield , Paz Koon

In his minds eye, he could catch a glimpse of the future. Thyrsian battlesight, not unlike Echani precognition, enhanced by his raw Force Sense ability. His argent blade arced in, carving a chunk out of the leg of the Sith, collapsed him down to his knees. He saw the slash bare fruit, but after it, he saw nothing. A brief possibility that was snatched away, when an invisible force blew through the antechamber and threw the trio from their feet in the ruined room.

Kainan, barely catching a glimpse of his saber slicing away just above Kascalion's knee grimaced, failure observed for a split second before he went head over heels on account of the aftershock. His blade, tumbled out of his hands, and he tucked into himself. Just in time as his frame crashed into a wall. The stone, hard, was unmoving as he slammed into it. His tensed body loosened on impact. On the ground, he scrambled, searching for his dropped his lightsabre.

The Youthful Knight didn't even make an attempt to reach with his left hand. No stranger to pain, he knew the arm was broken. The disgusting way it hung off his torso seemed unnatural, and even with years of endured pain and then Imperial discipline, he was just barely able to suppress the scream of pain he wanted to let out. Instead, he managed to mute it to the point of a shuddering groan. Tears and blood stained his features, and he raised a hand up to wipe away the blurry images. Caked with grime, he saw his saber, and pushed to his feet.

The sound of the Sith's laugh angered him beyond reason.

He's laughing? Laughing when he was on the brink of death? His teeth, cracked earlier from when the Dark Sovereign's fist had found his face, were ran over by his tongue. Everything felt numb, safe for the constant pulsing of pain that emanated from his main hand. Broken, he concluded, grimacing at the thought. "I hate you..." Kainan drawled. His tongue slid over the jagged edges of his teeth, the feel addicting before he cut his tongue. The triggered release of crimson ichor barely noticed as he drooled a line of saliva filled blood past his lips.

In response, the Sith's hands shot up, and the right side of Kainan's body lurched forwards as his right hand led the way. From its place on the ground, his silver hilt flew up as the Sith's black lightning flew from his hands. The distance between the Sith and Kainan was greater than the distance between him and his saber, but he was at his limit still. And when he felt the comfortable feel of his hilt in his hand, it lingered, unmoving, before the argent blade leapt up.

A moment too late, the lightning, blacker than the night struck his grime covered armour. And his body reacted violently. Snapping involuntarily as a coarse cry of pain was drawn from his throat. Pain like nothing felt before, he felt the malevolent presence of the Force, corrupted beyond recognition, prying through the gaps of his armour, sinking into his flesh and burning away parts of him as he instinctively willed himself to live.

Greater than any other want, the argent blade of his saber sparked to life, his thumb the sole digit he could manage to move caught the corruptive lightning. Off his feet it took him, slamming back into the wall that he had just pushed up from. Consciousness was already lost by the time his back hit the wall, and as he slumped, little more than a groan was released as his mind fell into blackness.

Allies | NIO | NJO | Nearby | Rurik Fel | Paz Koon
Enemies | TSE | Kascalion Giedfield

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

POST XIII
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

Gowrie's Wrath - THE MIND

News had come through the 2nd Battalion's comm-link that their veteran Commoner-Captain had succumbed to his wounds, stating he'd died with pistol & Fairbairn in hand, and had passed on from existence with a maniacally wrathful-smile on his face. His last words, as according to the last transmission he'd sent to Lord-Leftenant Gowrie, were,'Shugg to Blue-Heart Delta! Hope you're ready to become the Lord-Major's 2-IC, Gowrie! They pulled a wee divide-and-conquer on us, it seems. S'dae yer auld friend a favour an' RIP THEIR KARKIN' JAWS AFF, MATE!!! Last communication: Blue-Heart Bravo out, archiving callsign for reallocation!'. A clear statement of what Shugg had intended for Gowrie, but it was up to the Battalion's only remaining candidate for acting as Barran's second-in-command, in all the emotions that were swarming around in his mind, to decide on whether to advance, hold their positions or to retreat back behind the treeline.

<"You gawnty take yer grief lyin' doun, or are ye gawnty show us what Lord-Leftenant Gowrie's really made of?">
Whit? Gowries decide on how t'set the pace, Gowries! No you Woad dafties. Clan Gowrie, Lairds o' the *Tuath!

'Ah'm out for blood the-day, Mylesy! Ears out for this wan, ya wee Woad-Macush'bam!'

The unexpected attack of the Amalgam's forces had exacted a nasty toll on the Lord-Major's reinforcements, and the 2nd Battalion was down to less than a third of it's pre-Bastion troop-numbers, with countless wounded still to be triaged by the time Myles had passed the news of Shugg's death down the line; to decide on whether to advance, hold or retreat would've been believed to be a dooming action in such moments, but Gowrie had crossed the threshold required to transcend such beliefs and become the savage-hearted Lord he was expected to be in such moments. A certain hereditary trait was beginning to show it's frightening face within the mind of it's chosen servant, the psychotic rage of a clansman from Galidraan 3's coldest northern regions with vengeance on his mind, a certain rage that had also imprinted itself on to Lord Erskine's already-wild traits through his mother's ancestral family-line, though to a much-lesser degree than his (soon-to-become) replacement-adjutant.

'All units, you know it's Gowrie! You know Shugg's death has hit me harder than most, an' you know mah mind's on the verge o' crackin'! But what you karkers don't know is the direction in which it's going to crack, an' you sorry lump's o' tankers will know I'm right about that by the end o' the day; mark my karking words! IF YEES DON'T BREAK OUT AN' ADVANCE ON YER TORMENTORS - AN' IN THE NEXT MINUTE, AH'LL LEAVE YER CORPSES HERE T'ROT UNBURIED!!! UNREPORTED!!! UNREMEMBERED!!!!'

Just as the young Lord-Leftenant finished his speech, he had reloaded his blaster-pistol and was pointing it at a Sith-trooper who was trying to slip into a neighbouring trench dugout from the northern side, when the sound of blaster fire screeched above the northerner's head from behind; a timely defensive shot that both killed the Sith-trooper, and heralded in the wildest fighting of their battle against the ORCC's defenders by that point. The sensory eruption of hostility would kick the young Tuath's adrenaline receptors into overdrive, and Gowrie was intensifying it by constant inhalation and exhalation, blending his rising heart-rate with the channelling of every negative thought that still swarmed his mind with grief, horror, self-doubt and anxiety; to put it simply, Gowrie was readying his entire being (heart, body & soul) for a single purpose, to rampage his way to victory.

The mantra then began to form in the channelled bad thoughts, a death chant of sorts, seemingly screaming,"UNBURIED!!!! UNREPORTED!!!! UNREMEMBERED!!!", from behind his eardrums, as if Gowrie's own brain was screaming the chant into reality; nagging, teasing, chiding, even goading him into verbally repeating the chant. If Gowrie somehow come back from that inherent rage, all the Blue-Hearts and Tuath soldiers within sight or earshot of their Lord-Leftenant would know it to be a miracle-moment of clarity, but the same worrying comrades were also aware of the fact that stranger things have happened in this galaxy; everything about his intensifying psychosis would render him almost incommunicable to everyone around him, yet everything about his state of mind would warn his Lord-Major's subordinates of the death that awaited those among them who didn't follow Gowrie's rampaging sally from their pinned-down positions.

'ALL UNITS - ADVAAAAAANCE!!!!!'

*"Tuath" - pro. - Too-ah - transl. - North/Northern

Gowrie's Wrath - THE BODY

Laughing maniacally as he watched every remaining platoon, tank, APC and walker surging forth in a unified swarm of screaming aggression, Leftenant Gowrie jumped out from behind his cover with the intention of charging on ahead of his own platoon, but the three-metre sheer drop from his window-like opening revealed he'd be dropping onto the heads of five Sith-troopers first. Rapidly snatching at his blaster-pistol's trigger, around three shots had fortunately hit their mark, downing two of the Leftenant's enemies on his descent towards the helmets of the three troopers who remained. As he landed on the shoulders of one and dropped another with a more patient squeeze of the trigger, Gowrie would delight in the fact he was alone with the last survivor, even if his ribs were still aching from the landing; lunging low and sending his vibroknife into the side of the last trooper's knee, the Leftenant had knowingly negated the terminal capabilities of his foe's rifle on his way inside the pocket of their arms' reach.

'Hiya, what brings you here? Helluva place to work in, don't you think?'

The playful nature in which his darkening mind was revelling, and all the horror it was surely inflicting on his enemy in that moment, had taken the Sith-trooper utterly by surprise: almost forgetting his knee's agony as the Tuath Leftenant used the window created by this fatal distraction, still in a complete state of fearful perplexment as the barrel of Gowrie's blaster-pistol flashed in their face. It was all over before the small fire-team could do anything to counteract the Leftenant's accidental surprise attack, and though Gowrie would've acknowledged it in a calmer mood, the Tuath in his psychosis just laughed it off, reloaded his blaster-pistol, pulled his Fairbairn from the last-survivor's knee and ran ahead as soon as all his subordinates began filing out with rifles shouldered.

'Wait, he's got one, two-three-four, and five o' their troopers already! Whit the actual kark are we lettin' oorsels in for?'

To answer that question, those Blue-Heart riflemen assigned to guard Gowrie's advance would need to keep pace with a man who was testing the extreme limits of his own beating heart, sprinting into the smoke and crossing the midst of the Amalgam's attacking static-line with his beating heart already racing, coursing with a vast abundance of adrenaline to and from his veins and arteries. Even with blunt-force injuries and the presence of the enemy to consider, the Leftenant's guard-detail would have a tough time keeping up with the Tuath clansman, but each and every one of them had previously been vetted and considered competent enough to catch up and take out anyone trying to sneak up on him; so all in the Tuath's platoon set off saying nothing more on the corporal's outburst, shouldering their rifles again as they went.

Gowrie's Wrath - THE SOUL

To the great fortune of both Leftenant and platoon, the guard-detail had finally caught up to the Lord-Leftenant, and just as he was about to go running headfirst into an occupied FOB; no orders were passed down the line, no signals of what they needed to do, not even encouragements for the consequent events that were about to unfold, just an immediate collective stepping to action with silent urgency. If the Tuath Leftenant had been of a sounder mind, he may have appreciated that quickness to act, but Gowrie was still on the mother of all Galidraani rampages, and was determined to kill as many Sith-Imperials as he could get his hands on, though none quite so intensely as the orchestrator of his mentor's demise. Even though they were all drawing closer and closer to the FOB, the burning embers (and the smoke plumes) of the destroyed Blue-Heart Cataphract in front of it obscured the opposing LMG-watchman's view of their approach, and his head had turned it's gaze away from them in conversation with his view-obscured subordinate.

'Girvan, take the rocket-launcher, Fire-Teams Alpha an' Charlie, an' take F'Tuum down the left. All me an' the Leftenant need is Fire-Team Bravo, an' you lot to apply supressing-fire for us. We'll take out the sentry first, your do the rest. Move it!'

In complete accordance with each other's tasks, the Leftenant and his guards acquitted themselves admirably, though Lance-Corporal Girvan had taken a shot to the face for his troubles in the process. Pushing out leftward as ordered, the singular shot in the smoky haze signalled their moment to strike, and the left flank would take shots at every head they spotted peaking over their FOB's fortifications whilst Girvan sent two grenade-launcher projectiles over the Sith-Imperials FOB's south gate; before the Lance-Corporal could load a third, the quick-eye shooting of a Sith-trooper had squarely caught the Blue-Heart NCO's face, killing him instantly as the others pushed forward in support of their psychotic Leftenant. Some of Corporal Annan's lot would turn back for their friend, only to find the mess of what remained and returning to the straggling rear of Gowrie's raid on the Sith-Imperial Forward-Operating Base; if the NIO were to prevail, all present to confirm his death would silently vow to return and bury Girvan properly.

The sounds of terror, wrath and destruction rang out all around the FOB, and beyond; the explosions of mechanised units on either side of the hostilities, the wailing of the wounded, and the savage-roaring cries of Blue-Hearts in a perpetual northward swarm surrounded the Tuath's squad on all sides, but they continued with no real encouragement from Leftenant or Corporal, for the pointed hand-signals were enough to fight on without questioning which room, hall or approach each rifleman should have been advancing towards. In complete symbiotic accordance with each other, Gowrie's state of peak-psychosis was showing to have been working in their favour from the moment he'd jumped from the previously-pinned makeshift sniper-nest, from the moment the Battalion's roaring counterattack began.

Long Overdue III

Having taken the time to apply a stim injection into the Lord-Major, Strasza had saved herself endless trouble in bringing Erskine as close to full-strength as the situation allowed, seeing the Blue-Heart's Lord-Major steadily regaining his footing and taking her cue to pick up the requisitioned chain-gun again as Barran stretched his lower-back to ease all the remaining muscular tensions away. From there, both cyborg and Blue-Heart would go on to plan their next step before an interruption shot at them; an explosive sniper round had hit her armour's advanced chest-plating on the left side, (Designed, developed, repaired and modified by the famed Julian Kaiser) and combust with the shockwave's pressure hitting almost as forcefully as a live fragmentation-grenade, knocking Barran on his backside as Strasza staggered backwards by couple paces.

Kneeling to pull the bullet-fragments from the chest-guards beneath the armour-plating, another of Julian's creations (created to enhance the Storm Recon Mk.II armour suit's last-ditch body-protection options) that would provide lifelines for a war-ready Strasza, Noel would rest the chain-gun's barrel on an overturned tree-trunk as her free hand worked to wrest the bullet-fragments from their near-puncturing spots on the Chest-Guards. Fortunately for the cyborg, Barran was looking over her shoulder to see if he could find where the marksman was hiding, as one more shot in the same place may have proven fatal for Noel; seeing a brief flash of light from the shooter's rifle-scope, Erskine tapped Noel's shoulder and pointed behind her before running interference with every cacophonous volume his voice could offer in that moment, running towards the west in his attempt to draw the sniper's fire.

'BOULDERS, SOUTH-BY-SOUTHEAST!!! SHRED 'EM T'RUBBLE!!!!'

Long Overdue IV

Reloading their ammunition before pushing on southwards after their encounter with the sniper, Barran and Strasza were readying themselves to continue when Lord Erskine took a moment to get away from the loudest of the chain-gun's noise in full-rotation; the cyborg-lady had briefly called her colleagues back to give the Lord-Major a working comms-device, and the quiet spot in the jungle to use it had easily been found shortly after, even though shorter bursts of shooting-sprays could still be heard in the distance. Gladdened by Strasza's growing proficiency with the chain-gun she'd only just picked up for the first time, the Lord-Major felt confident enough in Noel's abilities leave her to defend him in peace as he tried getting through to Shugg's comms-device, wishing beyond all hope that his Commoner-Captain was still alive.

'Barran to Blue-Heart Bravo! Where are you-'

<"-Gowrie to Blue-Heart Alpha! Mah deepest condolences, but it appears ah'll be the new Blue-Heart Bravo from now on. Captain Bruenn McHugh, known to all as Shugg, died with the wildest smile on his face, staring out from his vantage-point with pistol an' Fairbairn still in his iron grip. An' if it makes any difference at all, my personal views on Woads changed because o' that man, all my designs on the Woad-Macushla were thrown to the dirt as soon as Shugg convinced me of what the Barrans an' the Gowries can achieve together.">
So it was Shugg then, just like my hallucinations were wae Heggy....

'Barran to Blue-Heart Delta! The Amalgam's forces, by chance?'

<"Aye, their surprise-attack force anyways. But the counterattack is working, an' ah'm oot for blood, Milord!">

Even through the raw grief in his heart, the Lord-Major couldn't help but laugh a little at the prospect, though he understood Gowrie's wrath well enough to offer his own condolences. Both nobles understood the respect and admiration for the one thing keeping them alive until that point, and understood the void that would be left in the lives of Blue-Heart battalion's high-command, and both also knew a larger one would be left in the lives of the Galidraani volunteer-forces at large; Shugg had made a lot of friends among those who'd served as mercenaries in some of the outer-rim's many proxy wars, and also with a vast amount of the additions to the volunteer-brigade's officer-caste, so Erskine knew that he would need to say something meaningful over comms anyway, despite how reserved Barran was trained to be in such times.

'Then I'll kindly return the condolences right back t'you, knowing he was your mentor, an' I'll be putting my congratulations in along with it, First-Leftenant. You're a Captain without his new pins, as of now. Leave the paperwork ti me when we get back, Tal will see this at the first opportunity. Now get back oot there AN' SPILL ME SOME BLOOD, LORD-CAPTAIN!!!'

<"Then wrap yer ears aroon' this, Milord. *"Tuath tha an t-slighe dhachaigh!", an' remember who gifted your people their true first language. That's who spills blood for Clan Barran now, the only Woad clan that mine would ever spill blood for! Last communication: Blue-Heart Delta out, archiving callsign for reallocation.">

**"Tuath tha an t-slighe dhachaigh!" - transl. - "North is the way home".

​

​

 

[Viers Connory]

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

​

The connection was met. Viers felt the crunching of Alina's nose against her forehead. The sound was gross, and Viers kind of regretted her choice of action. She could have easily stabbed the Sith with the lightsaber, ended it, and probably avoid the gushing blood. The clever footwork that Viers danced with broke down as she needed to move quickly to avoid the thrashing of the blind and noseless Vampire. ​

Quickly as the blade of the Sith waved through the air, Viers scooted her waist out of the way, back end sticking out and standing on her tiptoes as she covered her mouth. She couldn't see, she couldn't smell, and if Viers just kept her mouth shut, Alina couldn't hear her. The scoot was enough to avoid the blade, but it also threw the girl off balance. The previous earthquake rocks and roots had been eroded to the surface, leaving the once semi-smooth ground a death trap of accidental falls. ​

Stumbling slightly, the padawan reached out and caught herself against one of the ruins, fingers digging into the warped stone. Bright Corellian eyes remained on Alina as she squinted, suddenly seeing double and now triple versions of the Vampire. "Wha-" She whispered, keeping her voice down, hoping that the girl was too busy waving her weapon frantically to realize Viers wasn't there anymore. ​

Using the wall as a supportive guide, Viers stumbled away and clipped her lightsabers back into their holsters. The last thing she needed was to spoil her victory by impaling herself from tripping over her own two feet. The further she walked, the more she stumbled, and her vision made her dizzy; maybe the Sith's head was harder than she had expected. Feeling the wall end and the brush begin, Viers squatted, and dry heaved a few times. Her hands folding behind her neck, she placed her head between her legs and groaned loudly. ​

After a few moments, she reached out and felt a pair of smooth and curvy rocks, but with her dazed and confused state - she stumbled back and fell on her back out of the squat. "Ahhhhh, Kaska, I'm sorry I didn't see you there!" A frantic apology to the Knight - who wasn't really there and buried somewhere else. "But it's nice though - do you do a lot...of...squuuuats?" ​

Pausing, Viers suddenly watched as a dark ring started to take over her vision, her eyes slowly closed. "Ok, I sleep." Hidden in the brush, the padawan slept peacefully.​

 

[Darth Strosius]

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: Alina Tremiru / Viera / Viers Connory
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Gaining some measure of ground had been relatively easy, but he didn't doubt for a second that his ruse was obvious. All of his attacks were meant to steal back the initiative and get some breathing room, not that he hesitated to go for any actual attacks of course. Those were blocked as well, but at the very least he was still on the offense.

That was until he finally managed to get a strike in.

The next thing he knew his opponent looked distracted and missed a block, allowing him to get a slice into her side. Not deep or anything, mostly because Alisteri was briefly just as surprised as she was. That one hadn't been planned to hit. In one short moment of surprise and hesitation, he failed to push the initiative on his enemy.

That would prove to be a poor decision.

By the time he sprung forward to try and get another hit in, she was ready to block him again. Not just block either, she was going on the assault here and there as well. He attempted to steal the initiative back, but it was clear who the better duelist was.

Now on the backfoot again, the only saving grace that the Acolyte had was that it was far from the first time that he had to defend against a superior foe. Whatever defensive experience he did have was of little usage when the Jedi suddenly turned and bolted away however.

Oh chit we've got a runner.

A second later and he was sprinting after her, cursing himself for allowing her to get so far away already. Evidently she was heading for Alina and the Jedi that she had been fighting. With any luck, she'd never get there. Luck had not been on their side thus far, but one could always hope.

 

[Gallius Orcana]

ALLIES | NIO | GA | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Var Koon | Tantalus | Jivim Vaak
ENEMIES | TSE | EE | Onrai | Ren-Hua Mant | SV-2121


NIV PRIDE OF THE EMPEROR

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
THIRD FLEET

Gallius watched as the Pride of the Emperor slipped from the Sith batteries. His speed allowed him to drive away from the Battleships, only receiving two or three direct hits. The multiple squadrons of Petards were swarming the dreadnoughts, exploding and damaging the fleet.

Some imperial cruisers managed to add their batteries to the fire of the exchange, but most tried to run away. The frigates were torn apart by the Sith, and decided to turn around and attack frontally one of the Sith warship. At the last moment, they would override the security protocols and detonate their engines as close as possible from the enemy hull.

Other imperial ships attracted the attention of many fighters and interceptors, distracting them from the true objective : the fleet led by Grand Admiral Carlyle Rausgeber. The Pride of the Emperor abandoned the fighting maneuvers, recalled Razor Squadron, and flew off, dragging with him bombers and corvettes trying to kill her.

​

Gallius was confident about it. Razor Squadron could handle a handful of light attackers, and the broadsides of the Cuirassier would handle the rest. As the Cuirassier left the engagement zone from starboardside, the Sith pursuing him were destroyed, or abandoned their prey and came back to the battle.

Now that Gallius's fleet had been either dragged off the fight or destroyed, the Captain took a second to analyse the situation. The Petards had created a surprise effect, and the assault fleet had wounded many ships. The lighter ones had been crippled or destroyed, the heavier ones were slowed down. Overall, the eight vessels lost to the enemy were a small price to pay, considering the fleet Rausgeber was now leading into their front. These spacecrafts hammered the Sith, and used to their advantage the absence of light vessels, occupied to pursue the Petards's fleet as they had been.

​

Gallius also managed to locate Javelin. His aid would tip the balance in favor of Rausgeber and his vessels. The Captain reached his datapad, and write the turncoat order. But as he was ready to send it, he received something. Counter-order. COMPNOR estimated the chances of treason too big in the crucial situation, and so cancelled the operation. Gallius let the datapad go, and fall. His head was full of contradictory visions and intuitions. Would he go against the order?

Orcana knew the stakes were high, but Javelin had waited so long... For a minute, the Pride of the Emperor drifted aimlessly, before Gallius made his mind. He could not take the risk of alienating his patron, and decided not to tempt the ire of Jaeger Harrsk. He would comply to the orders. Rewriting the message, the Captain cancelled the turncoat operation and warned the operation was only postponed. Any occasion that came, Javelin would strike from behind, Gallius swore.

Receiving the reports of the captured space station, Gallius was solaced to learn his alien warriors had taken the objective. The battle was not over yet. Gathering the dozen vessels which had survived the Petards operation, Gallius directed another thrust towards the Sith fleet, coming to aid Rausgeber.

"May Rausgeber have mercy, for I won't", Orcana muttered.