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

[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

​

Not enough, Kainan thought, as he watched the Knight avoid the smaller, Knight Koon's assault. Little more than a surprise attack, with a new Imperial Knight joining the fight? Their presence alone up until the moment that they expired would be all he needed to restrain him willingly go over that edge. Power. He craved it, or rather, Victory. And the power of the Dark was all he needed, he felt, if he sought to match the Sith and carve him from existence.
The resplendent beam of argent fury flew up with a hate that even the Sith would find hard to rival. Seeing him scramble quick to avoid harm, Kainan pressed further with his attack, and he saw the edge of the blade, just an inch or two cut across the skeletal figures thigh. Not enough to cripple, but enough to mark. And if the supposed God could be marked, then the God could be slain. And the Youthful Knight pressed onwards, before the arc of his lightsabre came too far and continued the slash across the torso of the Dark Lord.

To protect himself, the Sith had snatched a corpse from the earth, and it flew into the place the Sith had been occupying. And Kainan lurched out of the way of the swinging limbs, to avoid needless harm by the still armoured corpse, and to avoid deactivation of his saber. His own blade deactivating just before it made contact of the headless corpse, allowing it to fly by harmlessly as he sneered at the retreating Sith.

Via summoning by the Force, the Sith had found himself a new saber. Imperial make, from one of the early Knights that had gotten to the Temple before his own crash landing. His brethren, but... He couldn't find himself to feel anything. The sabers were tools, as were the Knigths that had wielded them. And his friendship with the Knights was limited. Who cared for Kainan? Only himself. The only bond that they shared together was that of duty and servitude to the Empire.

Apart from it... They were as different as the Sith that they had been killing for years.

And then the Sith's own hilt sparked back to life. Discarded earlier in the fight when it had been rendered useless, Kainan had known there was a temporary window. And now that the 'trick' of the cortosis-weave armour had been played once, the Force Deity would undoubtedly fight in a way to avoid being exploited again. His window... Gone. From side to side his head shook, long hair shaking across his face as both his hands found his hilt again. The blade emitter pointed out towards the Sith as he cast a glance to the Kel Dor, and then back to Kascalion Giedfield .

Two sabers. Two opponents.

It felt as if the ground below them rumbled as the Sith landed after his leap. And Kainan shot a glance up at the Sith, his right hand shooting forth as remembrance of his purpose for being there resurfaced. The Crucifixion Engine. Through the Force he reached for, not the Devil himself, but the ground he stood upon. His will extended, reaching below the roof and to the room below it. His hand yanked up, the telekinetic power ripping upwards in an attempt to explode around the Sith before he thrust himself forwards at the suspected falling Sith. Into the Temple, the Youthful Knight still sought to complete the mission, and if he could surprise the Sith... Innovation tended to be their downfall, for like the Jedi, they were bound by traditions that were older than all of them.

I make advantages from nothing, Kainan reminded himself. His lightsabre pointing ahead of him as he jabbed his left arm to to stab at the Sith.

Allies | NIO | NJO | Nearby | Rurik Fel | Enlil | Viera | Viers Connory | Kaska Arden
Enemies | TSE | Kascalion Giedfield | Nearby | Alina Tremiru | Darth Strosius |

 

[Calruss Shiman]

Objective: Defend the temple and the secret it holds
Allies: TSE
Enemies in the area: Fisk Kamer
Equipment: Lightsaber
​

Helping the Sith always didn't sit well with Calruss, assisting them in defending important temples like this was none of their business. Yet, the empire always sort to provide aid when they needed it, something of which Calruss had to accept. He never dared to question the Empire's methods and never will, but he was sure they were doing this for the right reasons instead of blindly giving them resources. The Empress was smart and cunning, so he didn't see why that wouldn't be the case. Whatever she was doing, it was certainly gaining a large list of favors from the sith. Although would the sith do the same for them when the time came? time could only tell.

In one of the many halls of the temple sat Calruss, who had his legs crossed in a meditative state. His eyes were closed in deep thought, preparing his mind for the fight ahead and ceratin conflict that would ensue. Having a mind of stone always needed preparation, without it everything else will crumble. That's why sometimes duels are settled by those who have the best conscience, not by how much skill they had with a lightsaber.

Before him was one of the side entrances that had been sealed shut by the temple guards, leaving him alone to defend it. The hall was quite large in its entirety, but the way in was narrow and undesirable for attackers to enter through. That didn't mean someone needed to keep watch for anyone wise enough to use this as a way to get in. From the estimated amount of opposition, it was a high chance of it happening and a good chance he would be fighting a Jedi for the very first time. And soon enough, the teen sensed someone approaching from the battlefield that was happening outside. Calruss slowly opened his eyes and glared at the bolted doorway as he stood up, a hand reaching down to his lightsaber to let it hang loosely in his grip. With a small sigh, he walked to the center of the hall and placed his hands behind his back, patiently waiting for the individual to find a way through the door.

 

[Brama Tagge]

ALLIANCE COMMAND
CORUSCANT || CHANCELLOR'S SITUATION ROOM
GAME CHANGER

It would be false to say Brama wasn’t nervous. The entire unity shared with the Imperials made her uncomfortable and displeased. It had only been a handful of months ago the Senate had met on an emergency request to make the choice to withdraw their forces from alongside Imperials based on an uncovered cold-war threat.

All through Brama’s life, from her very first memories, Tepasi and the Core had been meant for democracy. When it had been threatened with Imperial subjection, rebellions broke out. That’s how she’d fought as a young woman, struggling against unwanted order. The democratic approach meant the people mattered most, and their words and opinions had merit. From lowly farmers to wealthy TaggeCo board members. It was only as she’d grown up, and encouraged to listen when her family spoke with other adults that her understanding of politics became deeper, more nuanced, and the word that redefined their people was alliance. Not republic, not unity government, not nation. Alliance. She hadn’t wrapped her head around it then and pursued more military endeavours. Her brother, on the other hand, understood what that meant. Emmen Tagge had done the best job of making sure this was clear, that was his grand vision. He’d been the first to shake hands with the punished Imperator and discuss policy with manners. It was Emmen that recognized the Core was a numberless wash of different groups that formed and fell apart and formed again. And there was a beauty to that regeneration, and somehow all of them tacitly agree that, whatever their disagreements might be, they were united against the oppression of freedom, light, peace. What brought them together was the resilience to tyranny. Chandra understood that dream as well, and carried it further, pushing the boundaries of Alliance. Testing it.

And now here they were, congregated in a high-profile, highly fortified room, watching those very soldiers they’d suggested they withdraw partnering alongside the Imperials once more. Sons and daughters of soldiers she’d once served alongside. Subconsciously, her eye narrowed across the room to the projection and glared at the back of Chandra’s head.

“Aahhh, the jungle. I remember ops like that.” The senator of Tepasi remarked to nobody in particular; though it could be assumed she talking solely to one of her two loyal hounds. And not the aide that shifted uncomfortably by her side.

The rumination ended there, and Brama turned instead to look about the room. Each person’s countenance looked concentrated and nervous. Some were gnawing at their knuckles, others were so transfixed on the incoming data streams that she was sure if she were there in person, reached out and touched them, they’d be adequately startled.

In the corner of the room, the committee overseeing the affairs of Force users were clustered and pouring over advances on the temple between the Imperial Knights and Jedi. They were all hunched over streams and trying to make note of key players and interactions, hastily directing reports to eager ears and choosing what was imperative to know and what wasn’t. “Lots of breakaways in this zone.”

“Are they breaking formation?”

“Not entirely.”

Fire seemed to erupt from some areas around the base, and some of them blinked in surprise. On the other side of the room, those monitoring a separate objective, Generis base, jolted similarly. Apparently, it had been littered with mines, pockets of explosions claiming triumvirate soldiers. An update from the intelligence bureau’s monitoring systems pinged through, alerting that comms were down between the oppressing ground forces. Those on legs managed to get the patrols down, and the advancement was going as well as it could. Someone released a breath and straightened their spine, adjusting in their seats.

“The Gilidraani are stalwart linemen, hm?” The elder Tagge mused, twisting the string of krayt pearls around her neck in anticipation. Her aide nodded. She ran a hand over her mouth, wiping away any flicker of emotion. They’d be worth co-training with some of their defence force later if they truly meant to harness this union.

In response to Tithe’s question, the central projection rotated to an orbital view. “Not a lot, sir. The Imperial’s boarding squadrons have been deployed and are initiating their objectives to take the base.

TIE squadrons have been deployed for the defences, they might be on their way to intercept the boarders but…inconclusive for now.”

“Funny how things seem to work much slower in a vacuum..” Brama murmured, dropping her decibels and angling to murmur in the Vice-Chancellor’s direction. “They’re an efficient breed, aren’t they? Much better as allies than…hmmm.” She waved a dismissive hand to the thought. "Do you have personal ties to anyone down there, Tithe?"

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ALLIES | NIO | GA | NJO | Aerarii Tithe | Gat Tambor | Donavon Arturo | Adhira Chandra

 

[Willan Tal]

G A L I D R A A N I
New Imperial Order
1st armoured Galidraani ARMOURED-VOLUNTEER brigade
1st Battalion, "Fighting first."
The boys and the girl: Konrad Bolter DECEASED Erskine Barran Loros Kalaric Nima Appw'rii Halketh Jax Sloane
Opposition: SF-3335

​

<<" This is Major Appw'rii to Brigade General, reinforcements en route. What is your position?" >> - Nima Appw'rii

Amidst the chaotic violence and death waged beneath the shade of the jungle canopy, an unfamiliar yet strong feminine voice crackled over the radio. He might've spared himself a chuckle at the idea of being reinforced by a woman, but he needed all the men and arms he could get. And to think they used to crack jokes about women officers in the academy on Galidraan when he was a youth, how times had changed.

<< "Glad to hear that Major, follow the sounds of blaster fire and you'll find where we are, try not to delay this isn't a picnic Major over.">>

Using the cover of advancing cataphract tanks as a deterrent against blaster fire, the Galidraani troops pushed against the Sith forces. They were utilising squad tactics and fire and manoeuvre to regain footing and take ground. Galidraani flame troopers moved ahead of the tanks, their flamers spitting fire at entrenched Sith soldiers and anyone unfortunate to not get out of the way. The sounds of men burning in agony as their armour melted and burned into their flesh, adding to the cacophony of noise that permeated the humid, oppressive jungle air. Sith sniper fire caught one poor flame troopers fuel tank, bursting it open and turning the man into a human Tikki doll before another shot silenced the mans screams of distress. Galidraani soldiers returned the favour in kind, bayonetting any still moving charred sith they came across that did not escape the creeping wall of fire.


With the arrival of Major Appw'rii's reinforcements to the ordeal, Tals men reverted from being on the backfoot defence to the offensive. They were greatly inspired by the swelling of their numbers and flame troopers burning a path to the station in front of them. An approach built upon the charred bones and corpses of the Sith legions. ​

​

​

 

[Enlil]

TCH.

​

Summarily, a cadre of Jedi and Sith ignored him. They were all the same, interested and invested only in their insignificant holy war. This was the problem with their kind- all throwing aside the better interests of the Galaxy for their own satisfaction. The Jedi believed in what- peace? Their love of conflict with the Forces of darkness proved otherwise. The King saw that in their actions, and the emotions that radiated off them in droves only cemented that truth for him.

They were not allies Tavlar could trust. They were not allies he believed would have his back. Instead, he shifted his attention away from them and toward the Temple itself. He'd promised a breach. Enlil was a man of his word.

Without opposition, he let his foot shift across the earth. The ground trembled beneath the impact of myriad footfalls, and he could feel each of them moving in the form of subtle vibrations in the soil. More compelling still was the foundation upon which the temple had been built. He could feel the pain of the entire world as it screamed out against the existence of something so horrible.

The Rakatan built in their own image. It's architecture blasphemed against life itself, equal measures of evil and technological advancement thousands of years old withstood age and wear. But it would not stand against the King.

He reached out to the heart of Generis, the woeful, ancient core of a world awash in darkness. It answered.

Enlil gripped the fury of that primeval titan and wrought it forward, reaching upward toward the bedrock that upheld the Rakatan Temple. He brought his clenched fist high, and with it, the world's screams became a mighty roar.

Generis rebuked the darkness, in the name of the King.

The Temple walls in front of Enlil began to shudder. Where before it was subtle and one might have sensed it only through the Force, now it was entirely visible. The ground itself began to quake around that wall. Small fractures opened around it as the King maintained his focus, seeking to reshape the world before him into a new image: one bereft of the evils of the Rakata, and of the Sith.

Those close enough to it might lose their footing, or be jarred by the sudden tremors- or they might feel nothing at all, seized in the throes of their own conflict. None of that mattered to Enlil now- he had more pressing matters to attend.

Relevant tags: Viers Connory | Viera | Darth Strosius | Alina Tremiru​

 

[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 | Enlil

Alina watched the twin saber wielding Jedi closely. She didn't rush in for all too many reasons. She doubted the Jedi would come alone, and exposing her back while she and Alisteri didn't know what sort of reinforcements were there would be foolish. Not that she needed to charge right in to keep up the pressure. The young Sith spun her blade around, the blade burning through the air before she likewise charged forward at the Jedi. Where Viers went up, Alina went down, sliding under the burning blades and bringing her own in a quick slice for the incoming leg. A deterrent only, but enough hopefully to create more space.

She spun quickly to get on her feet once Veirs went overhead. A wide grin had over taken her features as it always did when a fight was to be had. Alina just loved battle. Her elongated fangs flashed as a result, but that was the point. Any bit of potential scares that might make a Jedi doubt was one of the best weapons against them.

Or at least, would of been. The ground shook without warning, causing her eyes to flare wide. An earthquake!? No, not an earthquake. Not by the flow of Anima at least. She narrowed her eyes as she lifted up her spear to point at the Jedi. So this was how they were planning to win? Destruction? She took off like a bullet once the Jedi hit the ground, unnaturally fast even by Force standards. Her lightspear came forward in a single powerful thrust as the Sith opted to use the range she had.

"Wha- Why is everything shaking!? Trooper, what do you see!?" From within the building Sergeant Armtre practically screamed at the soldiers rushing to the barricade beside him. "Who in the Force can even do something like this!?" The fear was clear in his voice. The last time he'd seen something even remotely close to this was during the invasion of Korriban, and even that storm took multiple Sith Lords to enact.

"Sir! I think I see him! He's just.. Standing there! Menacingly!"

"Just standing there!? Blast him then! Before he takes this temple down around our ears!" Numerous blaster rifles that had been firing at the jungle to suppress the incoming enemy troops turned onto the lone Force User standing out in the open, and opened fire to blast Enlil away.

 

[Laertia Io]

Laertia swooned, waiting for the attack. But He was clever, taking the time to hold back a moment and gather himself.

Other Jedi and stormtroopers were not so generous, and she was forced to defend herself, barely managing to deflect or parry their respective attacks, using her cybernetic arm to take some of the blows...and knocking the arm off line for the moment as she used her blade to sluggishly block bolts and attacks, sustaining a painful, glamcing blow to her gut, but still managing to barely slay her attackers, helmet getting more and more scratched and scuffed. The Nuetralizers, noticing their Mother was under attack, immediately began shooting at her attackers, slaying them.

The Brainwave Regulators turned back on at random and all the pain went down to a whisper, her armor's Regenerative systems kicking in and starting to heal her wounds, her cybernetic arm was still off line and she was paranoid about whether it would shut on or off.

But ultimately, she didn't care. She wouldn't flee here as she had fled Ziost when the Dark Side Wave had driven people mad.

Even now, she did not talk to Khefiir . She made no attempts to sway him. He thought she was wrong to oppose the Jedi, she thought he was a fool to refuse to unite while blindly supporting the NIO. No one was gonna try and reach each other today. Not at all.

Laertia chose the best form possible in her wounded state. Makashi.

Her mutated bronze and green eye stared at him, his face reflected in the center of the eye as she advanced...

...and teleported behind him, five meters from his body and dashing forward, whipping her blade at an upward, diagonal angle she knew would be difficult for him to defend from as she began a series of complex slash attacks in an unpredictable pattern, going to an icy place in the center of her mind to focus on piercing his defense in any way she could, her organic arm delivering the slashes with beastly, brutal strength to slash and stab at him in the way the Force advised, twisting it inside her as she through out a telekinetic field in a ten meter radius around her to try and slow his movements down as she struck at him. The Nuetralizers and Witches, in spite of being outnumbered, were starting to inflict terrible casualties as they pressed ever closer to the temple, slaughtering the forces the Battlemaster was part of. Some of the Stormtroopers and Jedi were starting to fall back from a combination of flamethrowers, automatic paddle beams, and Concussion Rifle shots from the Nuetralizers, backed up by Darkness Casting spells and lightning from the Witches.

 

[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
​

​

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
​

​

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.

 

[Rurik Fel]

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

CUT YOU DOWN
​

A chance at reprieve, mercy, the solemn delay of the inevitable rendezvous of the mortal soul with its hereafter, evaded. Ingrid approached the Man of Iron with a death wish in her eyes. One of them was going to leave this encounter. The other? Left among these decrepit ruins. She was only one of many to stand opposite of him in this sort of deathly defiance. None of the others found a way to kill him yet. She would be no different.

"Then they aren't looking. You're a tortured soul, I'lerim." Rurik said, moving forward a single pace, the argent blade well alight in his cybernetic hand. His eyes narrowed from beneath the horrid metal mask clasped over his scorched gaze, the damaged skin around the pale eyes evident past the masque of Fel.

"That is why I offer the final mercy, the last respite." Death. He lurched forward, honing in on each facet of his form as he pulled himself forward, his blade out in one hand as he siphoned the darkness through a self feeding ouroboros, to channel whatever darkness she invoked in this mortal struggle through him to spit back at her, the venomous snake, lashing ever in defiance.

He swiped the argent blade toward her abdomen in a faint, yearning for the two vibroblades to swipe forward to block, parry or riposte his blow, ideally opening her center mass to his swift follow up. He wrought his left, open hand up and fired out a punishing repulse from his open palm to force her guard open and her form staggering from the telekinetic force, to further press the advantage.

Such was Rurik's way of making war, to make certain at all times his opponent existed in a state of crippling unease and agitation as they failed to set their attacks. For iron does not bend.

​

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

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

T H E _ W O L F
104th MARINE RAIDERS 'WOLFPACK'
OPERATION : STRANGLEHOLD
ATRIVIS SECTOR
ANV 'JUDGEMENT'
Armor | Vambraces | Concord Brawn | Lightsaber | Pistol
Eldaah Aderyn | CLOSED

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RIVER OF BLOOD
​

It took only a few paces into the dreaded space hulk of metal and suffering to reveal the vaunted truth. Raaf was here. And Raaf would perish. There was no satisfactory result to this raid otherwise. He would get his answers and he would snuff out whatever Sith lied here until the Elidibus was all but the tomb to its masters.

The Wolfpacks were quick to sow chaos as they sprawled through the corridors of the Sith dreadnought. They were raiders, their primary directive was to set the world ablaze, take no prisoners and leave nothing left for the enemy to reclaim.

<"Wolfpack! On me! We have a ship to burn!"> Seydou of Thyrsus barked out in cold command to the Wolves, taking two sections through their bloodied path down toward the hyperdrive, to ensure the roots of destruction burrowed into the fate of these Sith. Whenever he sailed the course of war, it was difficult to discern Maynard as he was supposed to be. Jedi Knight. His style of combat lacked all elegance which the weapon at his will demanded, little patience in his death march. Only the flashes of the way of the Krayt Dragon fired in each strike he laid down unto the Sith Troopers and sycophants yearning to intercept his approach.

That nauseating poke and prod of the Lady of Secrets through the Force was ever taunting and it drew both rows of teeth to grind against one another. So close but with corridor after corridor of Sith to burn, she felt so far away all the same.

He tried to reach out.

"I've got you now, it's over." He sought to speak to Taeli, notifying her of the inevitable.

He kept his dogged climb toward the command bridge, the seat of power in Raaf's horrid Kingdom.

In his wake, the blood and fire. The dismembered and skewered corpses of the legionnaires strewn in a gorey mass across the corridors as Maynard kept his aim forward.

Outside, the Task Force at Maynard's command was enough to keep the dreadnought roped in an even field, matching its firepower with its dispersed assets meaning no rightful advantage could be placed in either side, all the stock was bought in the Wolves.

 

[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... ] ​

He wasn't necessarily able to see it in her eyes, as she was wearing a helmet, but after the man was able to read in the red-haired woman, it was pretty clear. Ingrid just wanted to be with Adrian, which in this case meant death. Probably the biggest selfishness in the woman’s life, as back home her two little sons and her other husband were waiting for her; the other husband she loved as much as Adrian. However, she could not give her life cheaply; her people traditionally had to die in battle, this is the greatest glory.

Anyway, Ingrid wasn't able to give up anything, she couldn't. She knew she would not give up the fight and would do her best. One regret is that if the man attacks and not just bypasses her, the NIO-EE treaty will cease to exist. If the man avoided her and just continued to walk inside the temple she had to let him. But if he attacks her, they will no longer be in a non-aggression pact, which meant that because of a previous attack on GA, or the alliance with the TSE, the NIO could now attack them as well.

The woman thought for a longer term; although she was an assassin, also had to look at and consider the political playing field. Ingrid didn't necessarily want to kill the man in the fight. The Lord Executor could be a much bigger trump card alive as a prisoner of war than dead. But it was still the music of the future. Oh, nope! The man was wrong; a lot of people were looking for all this, researching it, but really few were able to feel, read something out of the woman.

"My Lord, if I may… Lord Executor. We are soldiers, we may be on the enemy side, but I think we can give each other respect." said in her cold voice, but without mocking.

She was raised for this and held to it in all circumstances. She did not respond to the tortured soul; since it was true. Did the man also feel that her soul was not full? That part of what she left at Byss in the Netherworld with Adrian was missing? Never asked anyone if it was felt or not. She could not judge for herself because with the emptiness in her soul she did not feel complete.

Respect; after all, what did she expect from those who kill children? The next moment the man attacked. The attack arrived, it was too easy to defend. Not wanting to commit suicide, so she blocked the lightsaber. She watched the rising other hand, felt the Force concentrate around the man's hand and around herself in a spherical shape. The Empress had read about it so she knew how much devastation it could do.

Maybe her armour would protect her from it a bit, but the red-haired woman didn't want to know and try it all. Before the moment of the explosion, she reached into the Force and teleported behind the man after a short concentration. She spun immediately so as not to point her back at the man's back. After the turn, Ingrid tried to cut the back of the man's armour, and thus the man's back, in an X-shape starting from below.

The crusader and the assassin… the dance began.​

 

[Nima Appw'rii]

G e n e s i s _ A c t u a l
307th Red Riders Stormtrooper Legion / Genesis Rangers
Armor / Main Hand(s) / Melee I / Melee II / Grenades

NIO Konrad Bolter DECEASED Erskine Barran Loros Kalaric Jax Sloane Willan Tal
TSE SF-3335 / OPEN

Rū Ana Te Whenua

​

<< "Glad to hear that Major, follow the sounds of blaster fire and you'll find where we are, try not to delay this isn't a picnic Major over.">> - Willan Tal

<<”And here I thought I’d bring the lemonade General.”>>

From the woodworks the rangers pushed through the lagging lines scattered under the fire of the SIMP force, wading through the haze of the smoke screen as they hit the road. The earth tremor was the armor locked in firing a volley off, the percussion punching through the thick air. A high pitched ring passed over the audio receptors as the dampeners whirled, trying to accommodate the heavy firefight. The rest of the forces under the Major waded through to fill and cover the flank of the column.

<<”Vindicate One do you read?”>>

Orders shot across the comms in a ceaseless chatter as they blazed up the road and the heat involved the front lines. Blaster fire ricocheted off the moving cataphracts as the squads of the platoon dispersed across the road, throwing themselves down amongst the Galidraani; power cells spent as the riflemen laid down a heavy suppressing fire.

<<”Vindicate One to Genesis I read you, moving in with armor company”>> the comms fizzled but the zabrak’s voice was faint but it was enough for her.

<<”Confirm your position on the right flank, employ anti-tank measures. Contacting Hades and the eighty ninth, hoping for ten minutes. Have your marks ready!”>> Nima’s fist closed at her right of her helm as spoke, with one hand she hailed the radio operator down. The woman overridden the frequency verbally, adjusting the link.

<<”Cinn are you holding on the left, relay grid marks!”>>

Here at the head of the spearhead daylight was sparse as it filtered down through the layers of the murky cloud. Their cover fleeting as Nima accounted for the winds sweeping up the smoke screen. Nima’s teeth gnashed as she felt her body snapped against the tank side, the breath knocked from her lungs.

A smoking bolt-she wheezed visor dropping as she stared at the burning hole at the top of her chest plate, metal charred and expanding in the wake up the shot but shavit. The woman’s eyes watered, it burned. That had been too close was too close-A scathing bolt cut close and the metallic ting hit the tank at her side as the SIMP forces came back for seconds, the woman stooped low-knees dragging across the charred ground as her team followed.

<<”Big Sixty’s holding the last stand. Position is getting chewed up, falling back closure to the roadways.>>

<”Ma’am are you hit-”> panic bled over the comms as a hand caught the strap of her blast plate.

<”I’ll live-”> Nima gasped, kicking her feet out from under her as she was hauled back up.

<”Dropping grenade!”> a click followed as the trooper hurled a thermal down the line into the thickets, SIMP gunners holding out. Slowed and caught out, Nima forced the squad to retreat-her back knocking in to the soldier behind her. A hand encased her shoulder, guiding them back as they peeled around the cataphract from the direct fire. She didn’t catch the explosion.

<”Box boy relay with Hades crew and set up close artillery drop”> the woman liked firing danger close and Nima was going to give it to her-

<”Copy that ma’am, falling back and making the relay,”> the comms officer answered, marker lagging on the radar as he pulled back.

The grey marred stock of the blaster hit Nima’s gauntlet as she brought the rifle to sight, her squad filing behind as they recovered and made the crawl forward beside the back side of the tank.The recoil washing over her, each breath dreaded and forced the recoil bruising away at the plate. A scattering of loose fire erupting over her left as the rangers fired and traversed the roadway. The flametrooper ate most of the sights as the Galidraani moved in fast.

Atleast they weren’t as hopeless as the army.

<”Squad advance! We locate the General!”> Nima rasped out, dragging her hand down the powercell and checking her ammo. A pressure settled over the top of her breast and the woman didn’t want to consider the damages. A heavy gauntlet hit her shoulder seizing all concern, and Nima visor stared the roadway before she lurched forward. The squad burst forward behind pushing up ahead of the tanks and advancing flametroopers.

Dirt kicked up in their wake as the rangers raced, peppered by enemy fire. Heat grazed her right and Nima hailed the troopers left past the smolder rendered tank. All cover was fleeting and the woman scoured the remnants of the road, scattered Galidraani still held out and she dipped down off the road into the jungle firing off a smathing of bolts over the road leaving them for the offense to recover. Her leg gave out and she slid down in to the ditch, trusting her men to keep up. Nimas muscles strained but planted one hand in the dirt pulling herself forward, helm peeking over the road side-

Nima’s finger brushed the trigger several times, firing off a sparse round of bolts tailing retreating black forms of the SIMP infantry on the road. The repulsors on the tank drowned out the worst of the heavy guns but through the gas flames the woman searched for signs of the Galidraani General. The enemy armor loomed all too close, canon fire whistled down the roadway and they hit the ground first. Tremors surrounded them and dirt sailed across the road, plasma burning up the earth as another pit was carved into the road; riding out the volley. The woman rolled over, armor creaking as she referenced the radar, waiting for any signal.

<”Movement, one hundred meters! Friendlies in the hole-”> one of the Genny’s sounded off.

Smoldering ruin and body passed under foot as they were forced back up onto the road. From the trees fire opened, a red line cutting a life sign off. Nima did not look back for the dead soldier. Time was dwindling for them. Shaking her head sweat pooling down her nose within the confines of the helmet. The woman’s eyes flicked across the screen, barrel of the rifle following the cue of the A.I. as she turned back on the jungle firing in to the green abyss.

<”Spread out, take up defensive position, move move!”> Nima howled, as the distance closed in. She could only hope it was the right man or there was about to be a very thankful soldier kissing their feet. Sindge marks ate up the length of her body and the woman came crashing down into the likes of the hole as a fresh wave of blaster fire cut through the squad. Nima hit the ground back first within the trench, blue skies reading across the HUD.

Nima groaned the burning sensation in her chest arising as the war disappeared for the briefest seconds as she stared up. It was definitely not a picnic, pulling her rifle close as she rocked over-pulling a knee under herself. Charred limb and blood pooled at her feet and the woman found a body alike accompanying them. Nima pulled her hand back from the deceased carefully, head low as a harsh exhale fogged up her screen. The vents triggered as she swivled her helmet back around-sights landing on @Tal

<”General,”> Nimas offered the man a curt nod, the woman encased in punished works. The grey cast of the commando division blending in with the raining ash. The woman didn't hestate to throw her shoulder in to the wall of hole-many of smartass comment left behind. The radar showed the position of the squad, she could only guess they were in a similar hole or plastered across the road. They'd all have to hold for now. The woman idly wretched the spent tibanna canister from the back of her rifle as she reloaded, sparing the greying man a glance-she had to wonder who let grandpa out of retirement.

 

[Marcis Sorr]

Objective: Secure the catalyst; eliminate any hostiles.
Equipment: Sorr's Shatterbracers | Close-Fitting Combat Suit
Writing With: Dagon Kaze and Violet Horne

To his surprise, the second pellet succeeded where the first had failed - perhaps her initial defence had merely been a fluke.​

Unfortunately, however, she regained her composure with impressive speed, lashing out with that great green sword of hers as if to sever his leg at the knee. Very grateful that he had been trained to avoid flashy but rather risky flying kicks, he broke off the motion before he could complete it, thought for a moment he would succeed in pulling it back unscathed... and then an invisible force grabbed ahold of him, seeking to restrain him.​

Teeth grinding together in pain, he let loose a guttural grunt as the weapon grazed the leg of his combat suit, melting the armoured cloth as if to make abundantly clear that whatever it was, it was no less lethal than a lightsaber. One good hit and he was dead.​

Worse, he did not know if the songsteel of his bracers could withstand whatever strange energy it was made from.​

Cognizant of the fact that to let up now would likely be to sign his own death warrant, he salvaged his retreat into a graceful spin that saw him grab a handful of dirt, dust, powdered stone, and pebbles from the ground only to fling it directly in the woman's face. If the act seemed to catch her off guard he would attempt to outmanoeuvre her in order to plant a telekinetically-strengthened fist into her wrist, forcing her to drop the weapon...​

... if she even could drop it. It might well be a manifestation of her Force energies; if he failed, he would instead attempt to fall back to the shadows.​

 

[SF-3335]

Location: Generis Base - Generis
Call Sign: Plasma Seven
Allies: TSE ( The Amalgam Marimax Mortui )
Enemies: NIO (Loros Kalaric Konrad Bolter Jax Sloane Arten Jinn Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran )

It was a brief, fleeting moment during which the momentum was on their side, which Nixie did not fail to make the most of in inflicting losses on the hated enemy. She pushed her machine forward, advancing into the enemy lines as her laser cannons spewed fire at an MT-BTR troop transport, shearing the vehicle’s shields down under a torrent of rapid fire before finishing it off with a pair of electromagnetic plasma projectiles. Then, her sights were set on the infantry, opening up on them with the heavy machine guns in her walker’s chin, firing off large caliber slugs at a small squad of advancing stormtroopers that ripped through betaplast and flesh in equal and brutal measure. In doing so, she succumbed to the ingrained instincts of the IX-73a stock. It was the zealous desire to bring death to the enemies of her Dark Master, driving her actions even as more heretics moved in on her flanks.

When she finally realized that she had overextended, it was almost too late.

Fire was wrought against her walker, eliciting a cry of frustration from the Elzeri as the warnings flashed in her senses. Damage had been sustained, the nature of which was immediately made evident to her, showing that her solar collection arrays were no longer functional. Fortunately, her shields had held firm under the pressure of the E-Web fire, but she was forced to temporarily cease the path of relentless offense she had embraced only moments before. Acting immediately, she jumped her walker up ten meters, an exotic pink aerosol emanating from the rear of her machine as the gas dissipation system discharged some of the laser-dispersing gas from the reserves.

“Plasma Seven, status report.” The voice of her commanding officer echoed over the comms.

“I’m okay, I was moving to link back up. Are you going to...” The Elzeri wheezed as she willed her machine back into the depths of the jungle after landing, beating a retreat from the surging New Imperial forces.

“No. The tanks are falling back but we have to keep screening for them. Do whatever you can to disrupt the NIMPs back there, they can’t hide behind their tanks forever.”

“Understood, Seven out.”

Where the New Imperials delivered fire unto the earth, Nixie answered them with the same. Another charged jump sent her machine soaring high into the air, before slamming down on top of a formation of stormtroopers, crushing an unlucky soul under the pressure of her walker’s titanium feet, thereby making them forever one with the soil and their betaplast armor. Then, came fire, belched from her walker’s chin and cast forth in almost all directions to rend an entire squad of men into ash. The flames licked against her shields in turn as her machine stormed through the New Imperial infantry formations, nagnol gas clouding in her wake as she brought her guns to bear against them.

Spoiler: Loadout

• “Indrastra” Sith Eternal AT-PW
  • Modular Internal Chin Weapon Hardpoint (2)
    • Korriban-II Heavy Machine Gun
    • Korriban-II Heavy Machine Gun
  • Universal Mass Driver Nano Missile Launcher (2)
    • High-Explosive Nano Missile (20)
    • High-Explosive Nano Missile (20)
  • Universal Gas Dissipation System (2)
    • Pink Vapor
    • Nagnol Gas
  • Cargo and Pilot Gear
    • DS-101 “Venture” Multipurpose Protective Attire
    • X8 “Gambit” Elite Disruptor Pistol

 

[Paz Koon]

THE RAKATAN TEMPLE
Purge The Dark
Kainan | Kascalion Giedfield

​

The sword met resistance for a brief moment before following through to the roof beneath them. Remnants of sundered plasma crackled and hissed into vapor as chunks of debris rose up around the sword's impact into the roof. Sparks kicked up from the sword's edge as Paz dragged it back toward her, grinding it against the stonework before hoisting it back across her shoulders. Her posture tilted to one side to accommodate the weight, knees bending into a low stance.

Bastardized utterances of a long-dead tongue spewed from The Devil's sinister maw. It bore no resemblance to anything the Kel Dor polyglot was familiar with. Could it be ur-Kittât? Or something darker? The extinct, black vernacular of whatever horrid brood of fiends from which The Devil hailed? Her eyes tightened with focus, the milk-white enviro-filter contact lenses over them reduced to hair-thin slits. She met Knight Kainan's glance with one of her own, features hardly peeking out from beneath her hood.

"Show me what power two of you hold against God."​

"You know naught of a God, Demon!" Paz rebuked sharply. "I have intimately foreseen the hand that heralds my end. Yours is a pitiful comparison!" The Force empowered her, blade lifting off her shoulders to point out toward a downward angle at once side. The Sword which nearly matched her own height appeared weightless as she maneuvered and overhead flourish before returning to the pointed stance.

"Kascalion Giefield!" She shouted, addressing The Devil by his name, her voice booming with an otherworldly resonance. "For your actions, and actions of your kin against my people, and the New Imperial Order, Cosmic Force as my witness, I, Paz Koon of the Baran Do, vow..."

​

Moving on Knight Kainan's mark, she charged forward. The pale blade scraped against the ground behind her as she surged through the upheaval of stone and debris. She thrust the blade into a crack in the stonework, vaulting herself forward into the air with the leverage. Hands tight around the handle, it freed from the fissure and followed her into the air. Wild, vertical whirls with blade outstretched gave her the appearance of a vibrosaw as she ascended higher and higher.

Placing either food on the inside of the crossguard, she ascended like a falling arrow after the apex of her launch. Plummeting down toward the devil alongside Kainan, she accentuated her fellow Knight's assault. Images flashed in her mind, The Demon's unshielded mind feeding echoes to her extrasensory post-cognitive abilities. A name, a true name, an incomprehensible collection of syllables formed around her tongue.

The Devil's true identity.

Had this chance encounter truly been a coincidence? Was the dark ripple that led her up here the beckoning of revenge? Was it predestination? The future was cloudiest around the dark, but Paz felt a determined certainty. One that she would proclaim mid-descent, The Devil's true name in tow:

"KAVAR LOK KAS'ONI, WE ARE YOUR END!"​

 

[Saket Keane]

Engaged with: Aaran Tafo | Valen
​

A snarl echoed in his mask as he listened. The Jedi seemingly waved away the millennia of pain Saket's people had been given, proving once more the callousness of Ashla's adherents. Ripped from the wall the lightsaber then hummed freely, its plasma tip singeing the dust on the floor as Saket trod closer. The Jedi stood in a dead end. The Sith stood at the exit.

"Family. Iz. Personahl. We are our ancestorz, and thhrough us our ancestorz live. Jedi tear apart hhomez for thhemselves, deny thhe passion of one's hheritage. Make only more Jedi." As he spoke he drew a deep breath as the mouthpiece of his helmet unlocked, sliding back with a hiss as gas escaped.

His voice cleared as the respirator withdrew, a trace of true Ubesian accent in his words. "Jedi destroyed mhy system. They denied their sin, hid it. The device cannot fall in their hands, or more whill be like the Ubese. I whill not. Let. You. Have it."

With a quick jerk he snapped the orange blade up close to his lips and roared. A mighty plume of yellow fire belched from his mouth, the gasses of his life support ignited by the blade as he pushed his breath with the Force.

 

[Kaska Arden]

D A N C EㅤTHEㅤS P E A R S
R A K A T A NㅤT E M P L E
G E N E R I S

Lightsaber | Belmont's Resolve | JSTP Armour | Uproar Blaster

A L L I E SㅤG Aㅤ/ㅤN I O
A Bunch of People

E N E M I ESㅤT S E
Enyo Typhos

The Jedi found herself staring down the barrel of a carbon copy of the weapon she had just lost as she closed the distance. An unfortunate development, but not an unexpected one. She had steeled herself for the possibility that her opponent would recover quicker than she could close the distance. With no time or room to dodge fully, the best she could manage in the heat of the moment was to reach out with her telekinesis to shove the barrel aside just as it fired off a blast, redirecting the bulk of it into the wall that still lay between the pair.

Again, her armor's shield managed to save her from the worst the ensuing concussive explosion had to offer, her body enveloping in a translucent glove of blue light that sputtered and wavered against the razor sharp sharps that pelted her. The beleaguered unit putting up a valiant last ditch defense before its power was temporarily expended as once more the sonic element disrupted the suit's functions. This time she had been a touch more prepared, directing the nano-particles to block her hearing. More akin to band-aid on a dam as it turned out, it never less took the edge off the wave of disorientation and pain that rode down on her hard, allowing her the good grace to only stumble a little as she swung her blade.

Purple clashed against green. Blades locking in a press driven by the collision of bodies. The glow illuminating the form of her attacker, though the black drab plates of their armor seeming to drink it all in. Was that Reflec? She had only seen it on vessels before now, high end craft reserved for smugglers with more credits to splurge than a backwater dictator, but never on a suit of armor. Clearly someone had spared no expense in ensuring that they were at the top of their game.

That didn't bode well, but it did present an opportunity.

She brought up her hand to break the deadlock, falling back yet again on telekinesis to even the odds. Attempting to drive an invisible fist of kinetic force into the knee of the woman - and at this distance, even with the concealing armor, she was certain it was a woman now - with the aim to buckle and weaken her stance. If it worked, hopefully a glancing blow from her charged saber would reek havoc with the woman's tech.

Hopefully.

 

[Viera]

Objective: Capture the Temple, Subdue Any Sith
Location: Generis, Rakatan Temple -> Outside the Temple
Allies: NIO/GA - Viers Connory | Nearby - Dagon Kaze , Ryv , Violet Horne , Kaska Arden , Zaavik Perl , Auraya Irath-Ur, Rurik Fel , Kainan , Enlil
Enemies: TSE - Darth Strosius (Engaging), Alina Tremiru (Engaging)

Viera immediately hopped back when her attack failed to connect, ensuring there was space between her and her opponent. Anticipating an immediate counter attack, the Thyrsian shifted into defence stance. The masked Sith spoke, but Viera never replied. She simply slid her feet along the ground, enforcing her footwork.

This was harmony to her. When the voices in her mind were at the most quiet.

Light versus Dark.

However, there was something...off. Viera couldn’t quite tell what it was, the thick fog the Dark Side was clouding her sense beyond the immediate area. But it almost seemed as though something was disturbing the earth beneath them.

Viera snapped back to the matter at hand however, catching as her opponent sprung towards her. The Thyrsian flicked her blade in a flourish, parrying the blade away from her center. She moved to counter attack, to slash down against the masked Sith’s shoulder.

Then the ground started shaking.

Her attack veered off course. Viera shifted gears and focused on keeping her footing. The ground beneath her feet cracking. An earthquake? No, something was off about it. It felt far too centralized as if someone was behind this.

She got her answer through the chaos of battle, as blaster fire suddenly dimmed to a fine point. Viera glanced over to see the Sith Legionnaires turning their attention to a different, solitary target.

The Imperial?

Viera didn’t linger on the thought however, as her senses suddenly jumped to alert. She peered up just in time to see a small chunk of the temple falling. The Thysian quickly hopped back, avoiding the rubble as it slammed into the ground kicking up dust.

 

[Rika Hiro]

L A D Y_S I L E N C E
NEW_IMPERIAL_ORDER

COMPNOR

Tag: Kelig Ward Don Belkora

Opposition: feel free to attack

Taking the two shots and the sounds of the sentries ahead slumping to the ground as Ward's answer, she moved in further to the station leaving any other guards for Ward to handle at a range. Silent as death itself Asa used the trees' cover until she chanced upon the station's guarded perimeter. She spotted a gap in the fence ahead and aligned her thoughts with the first problem she had to solve. Yubari looked over her shoulder and back towards the base, the Galidraani and Sith forces fighting distantly echoing in the green horizon. Occasionally breaking the relative quiet where she was with the sudden overarching Tie fighters and Sith fighter craft zooming over the canopy she was hiding under—engaging in a ruthless dance of death in the clouds above.

She was half running at a hasty stride with Ward's watchful marksmanship right behind her, throwing herself into a ditch that stopped just outside the electric fence. She breathed in the heavy scent of oil and other tough substances in the air and everywhere around the spacious area; there were Sithtroopers in their white armour and crew of all branches in their grey or black uniforms. They were bustling around amongst maintenance machinery and vehicles in teams of two or more, some of them carrying hoses and cables and others carrying munitions. Sith fighter craft landed smoothly on the deck outside the station, re-armed and took off again, for every fighter that took off again many were too wrecked to be launched once more. The crews desperately worked in unison every time, and they seemed utterly indifferent to the shudders reverberating through the jungle whenever a nearby cluster bomb impacted. The sound of commands being piped through the speaker systems indicated that the battle was taking a turn for the worse, yet it did nothing to unnerve them.

They're little more than the Zambranos dynasties sacrificial fodder; she mused to herself as she turned her attention away from the doomed men. She had never really had much to do with soldiers of the New Imperial order either, and neither had she thought of their lives or their motivations. Little did she care too, as long as they served their purpose for the greater ideal. There was no room for selfish individualism in the pursuit of Imperialism. Asa glanced to her left and spotted a metal grid jutting out of the side of the ditch, she crawled over and pulled the grid off and peeked inside before bringing up her comm.

<"Agent Belkora, Agent Ward I've found a way in, don't be late.">​

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Armor: X | Lightsaber: X | Right Arm: X
Objective 3: Rakatan Secrets
Primary RP Opponents: Kainan | Paz Koon
Overarching Opponents: NIO | TSE | Respective Allies
Overarching Allies: Lyra Voi'kryt
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
Opening Theme: One Chance
Battle Theme: Holy Diver

​

Current Time - Opening...​

Two blades. Red in the robotic. Imperial in the organic. Two enemies. Two lethal warriors more than capable of killing even a Master Sith should they have proven the luck of the draw was on their side. One-armed with the argent razor of the Imperials, majestic yet simple in construct and as dangerous as any other lightsaber. Another armed with a blade made of solidified moonlight, capable of slicing lightsaber beams in half with enough force and intent behind the strikes. A truly impressive duo that, in any other age, would have risen to such heights the Galaxy - perhaps the Force itself - would have quaked under their combined might. But, this was their unfortunate fate to be facing the man who called himself not only a God, but the God. The one who tolerates the idea of being led, waiting for his time to strike. To lash out and kill and take his place - rightful and mandated by himself - atop the totem pole and ruling all from his fortress in the Netherworld. Of course, this fortress had yet to be made.

With a twirling flourish of his Imperial shoto, the Devil watched the two allies ready themselves for the combat to come. They would surely attempt to strike from both sides, likely focusing on the smaller blade to break through his defenses. If this were to happen, he would lose his last organic arm, a severe disadvantage in this narrative. He would not allow this to happen, and at first only listened with some mock attentiveness towards the Kel Dor's words of vitriol and hate, all of which seemed to be based in some historical significance the Devil had not the time nor inclination to recollect at this present moment.

Only when the Kel Dor mentioned the Baran Do, an organization he was quite well-aware of from his lengthy stint with the Empire and even the One Sith some odd decades ago, was his attention finally drawn. The name-drop was associated with this idea of revenge - a folly to be sure - but it did interest Kascalion quite substantially, enough so that he was now wondering if he had truly ever encountered this particular Kel Dor before. He could not recollect any of her ilk, at least none so determined in combat - many of his encounters with the alien race often ended with deals, subjugation, and executions. At the very least, this one was acting as their avenging angel, of a sort, and drew upon the events she had learned in some forgotten manuscript.

Kascalion would have brokered a conversation between the three combatants, in particular this incensed Kel Dor who demanded retribution for the Devil's crimes. But instead, the Devil was - curiously - caught off guard.

​

Current Time - Battle...​

The Kel Dor had launched herself into the fray before the young Knight, swinging her blade of moonlight with a primal grace - savage yet dexterous. Whirling slices through the air as she ascended high towards the world's apex, intended for some descending action. Only by the fortune of farsight was the Devil able to yank his momentary glare at the Kel Dor down back to the young knight just as the ground beneath the clawed feet of sin erupted into a cluster of stone and metal. With a laughing yelp, the Devil was taken up into the air with the debris before plummeting down into the Rakatan's forgotten temple, the goal of his mission now visible in the sudden cascade of sunlight.

The roof of the temple crumpled like paper from the new weak point, and many on top began to fall as well, Imperial Knights clawing desperately with the Force to survive, and Conscription Corps who only yelled out in some adrenaline-filled rage as they continued to fire their blasters during the downfall. More entrants into this bout, along with those already inside the temple itself. Good.

The Devil's frozen eyes locked onto the descending form of the young Knight, who aimed a pitch-perfect thrust of his silver weapon at the body of his foe. A sure kill if he could not move or deflect in time. At the same time, the Kel Dor launched herself down with her blade, a massive descending strike intended to coagulate with her compatriot's own attack. Two blades. One foe.

In a perfect narrative, the Devil would have reacted with a wind's speed all the same, attempting to strike the Knight's silver lightsaber with his own to clash against the durable metal of his cybernetic arm. Scree-chunk. It would be a flash of starlight. Luminous and catastrophic in a single instant, like the beginning of a new imperceptible galaxy. It would be able to resist a glancing blow from this deflection, and if his defense worked, it did, the argent slicing through a few inches of the metal, but not enough to cause the end of the arm. Simulated stinging. Burning. Two attacks from the same man, more than most.

The next attack would come from the Kel Dor, who was missile-like - no, a falling star, swimming through the atmosphere and seeking to cause a tidal wave of ending. Tip of the blade pointed toward his body. If the defense from the Knight had succeeded, she would possibly need to alter her trajectory as the chances of this young boy now being in harm's way would be far too high. Whatever attack she would throw, the Devil would attempt to deflect all the same with his crimson blade, although the risk of further damage to his robotic arm was...also too high.

But such a narrative would not come to pass.

Before any such actions could be take, the Kel Dor would say something that would later bring forth a beast none in the New Imperial Order had ever seen, none that any in the Galaxy had ever seen. Not in a millennium.

She spoke his name, and he knew that she had probed his mind for it. Strength in such power was rare, but she had the willpower to do it. And she spoke it all the same, Kavar Lok Kas'oni. In the modern tongue, this name was merely an alien one of a dead language long withered and buried in the sands of time. Ancient beyond ancient. Older than the Sith Order. In this language, however, it meant something worse. Worse than the moniker of "The Devil" that Kascalion held this day.

It meant, simply put and roughly translated, "the Armageddon." And it was a name he had not heard since the day he died on his throne, at the age of twenty, as ruler of a world. His mind raced, his memories - the last memories locked away in the Archive of his mind - would come to the surface of the cold ocean as he recalled in grand detail the purpose and meaning of that name. His name.

The silver blade of the young Knight would cut through his abdomen's armor and into his flesh and muscle from the sheer force of the descent. A cry of shock and pain should have escaped the Devil's throat, but no sound came of it. Not even when the moonlight sword of the Kel Dor sliced across his chest and carved open the skin to the point of showing a portion of his sternum's bone. Bio-luminescent blood seeped from his wounds as the ground drew nearer and nearer, the short seconds of this attack feeling like an eternity. Any subsequent attacks made with the rapidity these two had thus far shown would swipe, stroke, and carve through his body with equal ease and no efforts of resistance or defense.

Until when they would land on the stone of the temple.

In the flash of a second accompanied by only the dulling of light around his form, the Devil would spring to his feet far from the assailants, the wounds still sizzling and still bleeding. As he did so, he would utilize a backward half-rotating motion of his blades to stab into the stomach of an Imperial Knight unlucky enough to fall behind him. The Knight let out a scream and fell silent just as quickly, dropping to the ground. The next would strike out to avenge his fallen kin, only to stop short of the attack as the Devil held out both fists in response - still clenching the ligthsabers. The Knight quicklylet out the most horrifying noise he was still capable of producing. The Devil cocked his head to the right, and the Knight's limbs began to retract into his body with violent cracking noises and spurts of blood until it collapsed completely. In the span of three seconds, the Knight had gone from a living human being into little more than singular atom now left to aimless float in the void around the temple. Lënget Gûdüf. Bedlam incarnate.

And only then would the Devil turn to his true assailants and point the tip of the silver blade at them and an invisible smile crossed his skeletal visage. Perhaps the Imperial warriors would be able to, for a split-instant, see the face behind the skull. A red skinned face with maroon hair and beating blue eyes and a fanged grin. With a flourish of both blades, and a slight chuckle of evil, the Devil readied himself in the stance of Jar'Kai once more to engage the enemy. Silently, he beckoned them to avenge their fallen comrades.