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

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Outside the Rakatan Temple //:
//: Allies //: Darth Strosius //: Alina Tremiru //:
//: Enemies //: Bernard of Arca //:
//: Jedi Knight Dopey //: Aaran Tafo //:
//: i kinda wanna be more than friends //:

​

Waiting wasn’t the Echani’s best quality. She was overly impatient, especially if she wanted something. Right now, she wanted some sort of action. The Imperials were a relentless force, never-ending and continuing to beat on the doors of the Empire’s entrance. Groaning, she looked over at Alisteri, who was quite pleased about waiting. Quinn stood from her seat and adjusted the black headband on her head. ​

“Well, you can wait for the Imperials to come to punch your slack jaw.” She scoffed and then looked at Alina. She paused for just a moment trying to think of something sinister to say, but words failed her. Sticking her tongue out, she wandered off, leaving the pair with their butts on their hands.​

Moving away from the waiting point, Quinn let herself move closer to the temple. It was quite hideous, and she wondered why anyone would want to control this point. Eyeing the limestone and ancient sculpting, she figured it was a chance for the Jedi and Imperials to continue their hot streak of blowing things up. She could see the appeal of watching things implode, but when the dust settled, you just had a mess. ​

“Imperials and Jedi...such simple minds.” She spoke quietly to herself as she shrugged and continued to move through the ruin and vegetation. Her mind wandered for a brief moment to Aaran. Would he have been sent here too? Sticking her tongue out again, showing her disgust, she hoped she didn’t run into him. Well, maybe - despite his adoration for hearing his own voice, the Jedi wasn’t all that bad. Quinn had a soft spot for him; he was different from the others. ​

A hand tapped her cheek, “Why are you thinking about that dope?” She asked herself as she paused and fingered the end of her saber hilt. The Jedi weren’t anywhere - she couldn’t feel them through the Force. The Imperials were quiet as well. “Ugh.”​

lol page claim

​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

RAKATAN TEMPLE
NEW JEDI ORDER
TO ENGAGE: Marcis Sorr
THE LOGICAL SONG

...make sure they get back home safe and sound.​

"Raya and I are splitting off here. Going to find a way to get in deeper without being seen. May the force be with you." Zaavik informed him with a nod.

"And with you too." Dagon replied, his eyes mostly focused on Auraya. He had met the young girl back on the Prosperity...a while ago; the fact she had been brought to the field further weighed on his heart. How many Jedi had they lost to be scrapping the barrel so much? Questions were rising among the New Jedi on this war. It felt like the war had been going on for a whole lifetime, the sorrow and anguish it brought drowning the joy of any victory.

Would they come out of it as heroes or as monsters?

The padawan's eyes drifted to Viers and Viera, who also split into their designated pairs. Viera's soothing presence at odds with Viers' influx of uncertainty. She reminded him of himself when he had first ventured into the field, it seemed so long ago when in fact it wasn't. He felt equally different and the same since then. A paradox conjured by diverging ideals converging at the same point - the purpose.

What demons within tried to breach into his mind, Kaska's humorous remark and not-so-gentle punch to his upper arm drove them back down. Her special trait of easing his tension without relying on the Force. The signature, lopsided smile curved his lips in response even if they carried a hint of hollowness. It reminded him of the serene bonfire on the beaches of Manaan during their mutual pilgrimage to the Order of Shasa. Calmer days when the stars dotting the endless canvas of space did not peel off under the blaze of existential war; those days were gone. Then came their near-lethal encounter with the Bryn'adul over Draemidus Prime on that cursed ship and then... Ziost. Ever since she had dragged him from the impending doom under the rubble and the claws of the Sith, he knew he had a debt to pay and Strappa's Diner probably wouldn't cut it.

Make sure they get back home safe and sound. Ryv's words couldn't ring louder in his head as he watched her figure depart into the ruins of the tainted temple.

"Together we will drive them back. Save your strength, Dagon Kaze, we will need it for the battle to come." Violet's voice came from behind him as they split from the rest. Her voice sounded distant, foreign even. He wanted to attribute it to the supposed presence of this Rakatan superweapon buried somewhere within the ancient temple.

"Something is watching us. Can you feel it? Eyes on us in the shadows."

Dagon came to a halt within one of the larger chambers of the ruins to turn to Violet. Her odd behavior adding further fuel to the concern stirring in his stomach.

"Vee, you okay?" he asked, worry drawing on his face as he deactivated his lightsaber. His hand fell gently on her shoulder similar to how he had tried to reassure her back on Jakku. Dagon's brow furrowed as he inspected the unnatural emerald tones vaguely dancing in her eyes.

GA | NIO | ALLIES | Ryv | Violet Horne | Kaska Arden | Viers Connory | Viera | Zaavik Perl | Auraya Irath-Ur | Rurik Fel | Kainan
TSE | ENEMIES

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Armor: X | Lightsaber: X | Right Arm: X
Objective 3: Rakatan Secrets
Primary RP Opponents: Kainan
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

​

The opening was lost as the crimson arced through the air violently, its unstable beam screaming such profanities in the language of the Kyber Crystal as the very oxygen surrounding the combatants burnt. The stench of ozone following the downward trajectory of doom was merely a signal - a taste - of things to come in this bout, which the Devil heartily acknowledged as this strike was deflected by the Knight's very own forearm.

The gaze of pure malicious intent set upon him by this same man only enhanced the feeling of darkened joy that he felt in his heart. As one knowledgeable in combat or just general scholarship would expect, the subsequent meshing of the Knight's cortosis-weave - which the Devil could only assume as being present due to what occurred the instant his blade hit the armor - and the lightsaber did not end spectacularly for the latter's owner. The crimson death vanished, crackling away into a meek fit of hiding as the Knight crumpled to his knees from the residual impact of the strike. Kneeling. Praying, almost.

The Devil cackled at the sight, ready to speak some words of mockery, but watched with astute observation as the boy suddenly reclaimed his silver razor and, in a showcasing of the utmost dexterity and speed, activated it and aimed a powerful direct thrust towards the abdomen of the Devil. Only the timely intervention of Tutaminis, applied via his clawed left hand gripping the argent blade at the last second, saved him from possible doom. As a result of this reaction, the Devil's lightsaber clattered to the roof beneath their feet.

The heat of the Knight's weapon was near-scalding, once again the damage resisted due to the usage of the Force. An unwanted action, but one necessary for the story to have a satisfying conclusion, he decided without a second's thought. Time for the master of evil instead slowed to a crawl as he analyzed the situation, reading the pages of the narrative before him.

The sounds of war drowned out into a dulled buzz of noise without distinction. A broken light fixture in a spacer's ship-stop on an asteroid belt. All sights around him and the Knight became blurred, unfocused, unimportant. The TIE Fighters and Sith Star Fighters blazing through the skies, blasting and launching missiles with contrasting abandon and precision, became distant streaking blobs. The Devil's own regiment, fighting on the grounds below and - to his momentary surprise before they faded away - the rooftop itself, engaging the Imperials with mystic zealotry, became little more than black shapes without solid form. Amorphous metallic carapaces. Martyrs of a war not of their own making.

No, none of this was of any consequence, for the primary focus of the Devil was set on the situation before him. One could only apply this Tutaminis for a few short seconds due to the incredible energy drain it had even on masters of the Force - or pure embodiments of the Force, as in the case of the Devil himself. The young knight's radiant edge would continue its thrusting path once the ability dissolved, and without his own weapon to immediately deflect the attack, the Devil would be skewered like swine. The solution came immediately, of course, yet the idea of stooping so low somewhat disgusted him and he would have shown this expression had he the flesh to do so.

Thus, time resumed and the Devil opted to go back to the most basic instincts of his combat training from his days amongst the Skator Hai. Drawing upon the knowledge passed down to him by his father - the Bastard of Credence, whose spirit was conspicuously absent this day - the Devil moved to rip the blade from the Knight's hand, or at least move it away from its trajectory toward's his center. He would then follow up the defensive motion with a sharp right-cross to the jaw of this young knight, hoping that the impact of hardened flesh would knock some teeth loose and create some much-needed space. Then, if this was achieved, he would adopt what could only be described as an orthodox boxer's stance, which - while presenting his weaker side to his opponent - would allow him to throw his attacks with a leisurely comfort and power. Why he would not retrieve his blade when he had the chance, no one would be able to tell.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Opposition: Saket Keane​

He figured it would be too convenient for him to encounter an Ubese with some level of self-awareness. Too easy to disarm and defuse an opponent who was smart enough to simply stop and consider the ramifications of his actions. Or realise the pointlessness in pursuing vengeance for those who had suffered so long ago. Maybe if his hate were personal, if Saket had lost his own family as a casualty to the Jedi he would feel a bit more sympathetic. But there was a point where one simply had to let go of such grudges.

Hell, considering how hatred worked. Holding on to such things was probably going to weaken Saket in the long run if he continued down the path of the Sith. Hate had to be personal to be effective. It had to be something one could feel on such a fundamental level. From Aaran's own experience with hatred. He doubted that this cultural distaste that was as potent as anything personal.

Of course it did not change his current situation. Regardless of the validity of the Ubese's claims. The Acolyte was still intent on hunting Aaran down.

"Well, both the Jedi Order and the Republic both got wiped out for a while. Mission accomplished? You can stop being angry now. Any more just comes off as petty." His tone was still mocking, echoing through the halls, leading Saket closer and closer to where the Jedi lay in wait. And if the Sith continued his pursuit. He would find his determination rewarded. The Jedi had been trapped in a dead end. Turning a corner, the Ubese would find Aaran pacing back and forth in front of a blocked off passage. Collapsed rubble and stone blocking his escape.

But oddly enough, the Jedi did not seem particularly distressed. Instead, just pacing back and forth, as if waiting for the Acolyte to arrive. And now that Saket could spy his quarry in better lighting, he'd notice something curious.

He was unarmed.

No lightsaber at his belt. Merely a satchel slung over his shoulder. Even if he cast his senses outward, he'd feel no thrum of the presence of a kyber crystal's resonance anywhere on the Jedi's person. Either Aaran had thrown away his weapon, or the Jedi had come here entirely unarmed.

Turning around to face the Sith. Aaran merely quirked a brow at the sight of him. "So, tell me. Before you try to gut me and all that. Have the Jedi actually done anything to you personally? Or is this all a cultural thing? Not even your own anger, but the hate of the older generation that you were forced to carry."

 

[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 | Quinn Varanin | Viers Connory (Engaging) | Viera (Engaging)

Villian
​

One o' one of war. Use the environment to their advantage. Though, she wasn't sure how long that'd actually last. Alisteri seemed to think it'd be plenty useful, but if the Imperials were dead certain on getting this temple, it was more likely they'd just raze the whole jungle. If what was in there was as powerful as she was lead to believe, a couple bald spots in Generis's jungle would be the least of it's worries. Her gaze shifted out, watching the quiet battlefield. It wouldn't be quiet for much longer.

Confusion flooded her mind as she felt a pressure on her hand. She only realized it'd been his hand in hers when the hand retreated back. Her gaze lingered on her hand for a moment. Terrible thoughts suddenly went through her mind. Was this the last time they'd be together? She'd seen so many acolytes perish around her before. Allies. The horrors of war was still something she hadn't overcome, but now there was a higher price. What would happen if he was killed?

A familiar voice pulled her out of her own head. Quinn? Yellow eyes fell on the Echani, seeming more surprised she was here than anything else. Though, was it that surprising? She ended up laughing as her rival could only stick out her tongue as insult. Why was she bothering with insults now of all times? "Don't die, Quinn. Sylvia would be heartbroken." She spoke in a teasing tone, but she really didn't want Quinn to die. Or any other acolyte. Too many of them had already perished in these wars.

She wasn't as bashful as Alisteri was earlier. Her hand took his again, squeezing harder than he had. "That goes the same for you. You don't get to die here." It didn't matter if anyone saw. Alina practically glared at him, trying to convey just how serious she was before she let his hand go. She took a breath. They both needed to focus on the fight coming. The polearm in her other hand ignited it's red blade. The flow around them had started to pick up.

Multiple enemies. Some far more powerful than either of them. She lowered herself down, tensing up. They'd be here any moment, and she needed to be ready to strike.

"Here they come."

 

[Marcad]

G R E E N _ K N I G H T
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
IMPERIAL KNIGHTS
GENERIS | RAKATAN TEMPLE

​

The power hidden and untouched within these ancient ruins was impossible to ignore. A relic of an ancient past, yet extremely powerful despite its archaic design that even brilliant minds of the Galaxy could not reproduce its technology as it was beyond comprehension. Knowledge of the existence of this weapon sparked intrigued and then interest to not just the New Imperials, but to their allies and enemies. The great power hidden wrought an inexorable desire to wield it, an intoxicating lust to command it and tip the scales of this war by large margins.

The Dark Jedi of the Imperial Knights was filled with imaginations beyond his reach of the possibility of commanding this device. To him? It would serve as the cataclysm for the Dark Creed he yearned to destroy, scarred by afflictions from the Sith both mentally and physically when they annexed Mirial into their decadent Empire. That’s what it would mean by holding this weapon to Cewr.

That and much more.

Motivated by avarice for this power, the Mirialan would work zealously pragmatic to achieve what he and his fellow Imperial Knights came for on Mirial. He already leaned into the nature of the Dark Side, and that nature only reinforced his thoughts and desires. Ambition meant a lot to him, and he believer destiny would reward him today as his people believed in their dogmatic traditions of one’s destiny and fate written by the success and failures of their past.

He would not suffer failure here today, not while he could help it.

Naturally, upon their determined march on the Rakatan Temple battle erupted across all sides. The defenses of the Sith on these ruins faced the approach of the contingent of Jedi, and the Imperial Knights along with a task force of Stormtroopers under the command of the Lord Executor. Unyielding in his ambitions the Mirialan with a fury killed anyone that stood in his path, feeding off from the Dark Side that reeked on this site to empower himself. Ironic he had come to purge that was marked upon him. In the end, it didn’t matter. He would slaughter the Sith and their soldiers without mercy.

And through that wave of crimson and death which he would purge awaited for what he and his ilk had come for.

Victory​

Operating alone with whatever unit of Stormtroopers accompanying him, the Dark Jedi marched the steps of the Temple with haste while defending himself from the swipe of a lightsaber or the fire of a blaster bolt. Unlike his fellow Knights, he would not abide to that sense of neutrality in the Force and accepted the Darkness flowing through him like a conduit, although not completely fallen into the void like a Sith.

My desires will not be withheld from me.
​

ALLIES | NIO | GA | Rurik Fel | Enlil | Dagon Kaze | Kainan | Viera | Kaska Arden | Zaavik Perl | Viers Connory | Ryv | Violet Horne | Auraya Irath-Ur | Bernard of Arca | Aaran Tafo
ENEMIES | TSE | Alina Tremiru | Darth Strosius | Quinn Varanin | Kascalion Giedfield | OPEN TO DUEL

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

POST II
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 Arten Jinn
Jiosha Relawny Rika Hiro Don Belkora Sol Stazi

ENEMIES (TSE): Marimax Mortui SF-3335 Eira Dwynwen

CALLSIGN: BLUE-HEART ALPHA

Custom Blaster-Pistol | Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore

SOUTHBOUND I

<"Myles to Blue-Heart Bravo! Long-distance periscopes have spotted multiple enemy tanks an' walkers two miles west of our current position, bearing north with no clue where we are.">

'They're marchin' on nobody in particular, nobody stretching out that far from us or Tal's contingent, CC One. Halt an' wait 'til their out o' sight, then signal troop-movements before ye advance again. Blue-Heart Bravo out!'

<"All units - halt! Hold positions and switch off your engines, stand by for further orders. CC One out!">

Drawing ever-nearer to the base's perimeter, word had been sent through comms that some of the gates had open from within, and that the Sith Empire's forces were (in part) sallying out to meet the NIO's advance with attempted counterattacks. As admirable as Erskine thought the effort was, he knew their efforts were ultimately in vain, and a waste in all ways but one; the only good that could come of their defeat, the only silver-lining to their impending annihilation was the fact that each destroyed Sith contingent brought the NIO closer to winning the war. Resources (as is known for war-time standards) were finite in the Sith Empire, though not anywhere near as exhaustible as the sentient lifeforms who ruled or bled for for such a cause in it's long and storied history, and it just so happened that Erskine's superiors had no qualms with the,"Death by a thousand cuts", strategy's implementation for such a behemoth of an empire.
Just the way it is, a sure-fire method for smaller factions to chop their enemies doun t'size. Textbook, really....

'Any particular reason we're pushing on, Milord? Bigger fish to fry?'

'Suhin' like that, Shugg.', the Lord-Major answered, appearing to agree though his facial-expression had revealed his mind was still nit-picking. Getting a wordless screw-faced response from his adjutant that usually warranted further elaboration, (forcing Erskine to realize how vague he was being with Shugg in that instance) Major Barran sighed with begrudging obligation before continuing,'Well somebody needs to punch through to the redoubts at the main eastern gate, so it might as well be us who draw the defenders' blaster-fire away from our allies. Ah'm thinking the enemy column could end up walking right past our Lord-Commander, just like they have wae us, but we'll need to continue on; regardless of the circumstances, regardless of the possibilities.'

'Aye, Milord. We've fought through worse on our own after all.... "For each time ye prevail - learned become thee. For every earned respite to ponder-'

'-Is an epiphone - earned for the victorious and the free.", that's the second time you've recited Thrast's poetry in battle, though that recitation just there was a damned sight more hopeful than the first. No bad, Shugg.', the Lord-Major interjected, knowing the passage every part as well as his Commoner-Captain. Erskine was glad his adjutant-officer was beginning to show promising signs of recovering from the madness of Bastion, though the circumstances were not set in stone just yet, so any encouragements he had for Shugg would be imparted at every possible opportunity for the foreseeable future. Shugg knew he'd be needed in the following months, just as he knew Barran would be needed just as much by the rest of the Battalion; bonds forged in the crucible of war itself, friendships strengthened by the adversities that beset them when they were still just a company of Blue-Heart mercenaries.

SOUTHBOUND II

All the trees nearby were creaking and swaying in the wind as the 2nd Battalion waited for Myles to patch through again, though it would take a minute or so for Myles and Moran's scopes to confirm the entire enemy column had passed them by without noticing, but when Myles finally ordered the column to move again, the unfortunate sound of garbled radio-chatter confirmed that the native forest was playing it's part in the NIO's diminished comms-signals. With no discernible calls for aid to hear or understand, Barran had no choice but to trust in the abilities of his colleagues, the positive implications of the lull in combat, and the plan he'd originally intended to see through to it's completion; locked in with the cards he'd been dealt by Lady Luck, primed to advance on the Sith's defensive-line, and poised to reduce a large portion of it's fortified east-face to rubble.

<"Enemy column's moved on, Shugg. All vehicles - advance. CC One out!">

'An' we're back on track again, southbound ti the ORCC base as planned. Should we send out the riflemen to scout ahead for us, Milord?'

Leaning forward in his seat, greatly enthused by the idea of having the infantry elements of the Blue-Hearts screening their southward approach, Major Barran couldn't help but let a little smirk go unchecked as he replied,'Good idea, but I believe we should let the riflemen choose their own squad leaders this time.', in a matter-of-fact tone that told his captain he wouldn't be budging on the matter. When Shugg reached to his comms-device and patched through to the infantry's only radio-operator, Erskine took this as a relenting-gesture and leaned back into his seat, returning to silently planning his next steps as everyone else in the Lord-Major's ACV busied themselves around him.

'Shugg to I-Radio One! Ready up both the 1st and 3rd platoons, you're scouting ahead o' the column again. An' pick yer own squad-leaders before yees head out.'

<"Copy that, Blue-Heart Bravo. Regular comms-contact from here on in, we won't let you down. Stand by for Sit-Reps, sir. I-Radio out!">

SOUTHBOUND III

After receiving a slew of short, uneventful situation-reports from their scouting parties, Lord Erskine found it all to be too calmly to be true. Not often did Barran get that feeling in the pit of his stomach, but whenever gut-rot's lesser-known cousin made it's presence known, the Lord-Major had learned to follow his instinct and let his gut steer him away from unnecessary strife every time; though Erskine had let instinct steer him safe many times, he would be the first to admit he learned this the hard way, with Barran often revealing that ignoring this instincts was what made it so easy for his rivals on Galidraan to catch and imprison him. That same twisting feeling in his stomach was making it's presence felt in that moment, and Erskine was taking no chances this time, slapping Shugg on the shoulder as he grumbled,'Order all our units to rally on our ACV, suhin's well iffy about aw o' this.... An' we don't want our scouts anywhere near the ORCC base yet either, aht's jumpin' the gun.'

'All units, rally on ACV One's position! I repeat - all units, rally on ACV One's position!'

All the Four-legged and two legged walkers lagging behind the Lord-Major's position would just come to a standstill nearby, and with all the tanks and soldiers that had shot off ahead tricking through from the clearing's southern treeline, no advance would be ordered until the gut-feeling passed on to comfort again; Barran was already beginning to raise the eyebrows of his subordinates, but Shugg remained unperturbed by Lord-Major's irregular behaviour, as the veteran-captain understood the implications like he'd been reading them in Galactic-basic phonetics. Looking westward through his optics again, Erskine almost expected there to be a second wave, or an elaborate flanking maneuvre from those they'd only just seen making for Tal's (what was assumed to be) static battle-line, bringing the Lord-Major to believe that the ORCC's defenders were just as disarrayed as the wolves at their gates were in that moment.
​

​

 

[Kaska Arden]

T U R NㅤD O W NㅤF O RㅤW H A T
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
Dagon Kaze | Violet Horne | Viera | Viers Connory
Ryv | Zaavik Perl | Auraya Irath-Ur

E N E M I ESㅤT S E
Enyo Typhos

If Kaska felt guilty over leaving the padawans to their own devices, she tried not to let it show. Trusting that at the very least Dagon knew how to hold his own from what action they had seen together. Instead she focused her attention on her surroundings, looking for clues or signs that might hint at her target destination. She highly doubted she would be as lucky to stumble on a sign that read 'death weapon this way', but stranger things had happened, right?

Instead, all she was really discovering was how invasive the natural plantlife was. Everywhere she looked, it seemed that the jungle had managed to invade the temple. Thick, thorny looking vines wrapping themselves along the crumbling walls, infiltrating through the temple’s ancient stone armour through a series of cracks, crevices and holes that had accrued over the last few millennia. The fact the place hadn’t been completely overrun by the jungle implied that someone in the last few years had taken an interest in maintaining the temple. A faded script layered upon the stone, fresher than the surroundings judging from the paleness of the inscription, giving a hint to their identity…

An awfully familiar sound tore her away before she could consider attempting to decipher the writing. Her momentary distraction causing her to lose the initiative that someone had clearly capitalized on.

As she attempted to dive back for cover, Kaska managed to squeeze off a shot from her own blaster, attempting (successfully) to use her own uproar to cancel out the first attack. Fashioned from the same illicit workshop on Terminus, the two harmonised sonic waves collided with a tumultuous boom that echoed through the tunnel, casting a cloud of dust and shards of stonework into the air. Her assailant’s second shot met no such resistance, however. The blast punching a neat, noisy hole through the middle of the dust cloud before traversing the length and breadth of the corridor with a savage abandon, clipping the Jedi on the outermost left of her shoulder as she ducked behind a fractured pillar.

The kinetic protection of her armour transformed the otherwise disastrous glancing blow to something more akin with a heavy punch from an irate wookiee shockboxer. Her whole shoulder instantly went numb as the blow caused her to stagger and tumble the last few feet. While undignified as it was, the impact paled in comparison to the sonic screech that accompanied it. Searing hot pain overrode any concern she might have had for her shoulder. Her entire world turning momentarily white as disorientation took over, a wave of nausea and dizziness flooding her system before she could battle it back down.

Kark, she knew these things packed a punch, but that was…

No time to dwell on the effectiveness of her blaster. Planting a hand on the pillar to steady herself, she blind fired another blast down the corridor she had just retreated from, attempting to buy her another few valuable seconds to regain her bearings. A second and third following suit as she indulged the embers of anger that were beginning to stir beneath the surface.

With her ears still ringing, she didn’t hear the snap-hiss as her saber ignited. The blade held low and in a reverse grip, purposefully angled to keep the light it offered back from giving away her exact position.

She would let her opponent close the gap, hopefully lured in by the silence after those last few shots, before attempting to counter attack. Her plan to strike first with her lightsaber, the sea green blade hopefully coming in low to sweep the legs, with a second attack from her sonic blaster quickly following regardless of if the first was successful or not.

 

[Seela Leini]

Location: Space, Generis System
Call Sign: Dancer Ten
Allies: TSE ( Onrai )
Enemies: NIO (Tantalus Caarlyle Rausgeber )

The barbarians came.

Irreverent savages, heretics, and vulgarians, all swarming at the gates, intent upon tearing down the perfection of his Dark Empyrean. They came in droves, killing off the strong and the weak indiscriminately , while the cowardly deserted to join their hordes. It went without saying that their failures, losses, and defeats had been painful and severe. However, in loss emerged strength and the infinite potential of rebirth. What came after was always stronger than what had been before. Inevitably, weakness would be shed for stronger skin. Those who lacked faith had deserted and broke, taking their weakness with them and unwittingly making the body that they had left stronger in their selfish absconding.

Sometimes, the trash took itself out.

“Contacts incoming!” The voice of Dancer One broke out over comms as the formation of TIEs approached Basilisk, the vessel which they were charged to protect. “Accelerate to attack speed and designate targets. Give them the Empress' wrath!"

The Twi’lek was immediately on the offensive, angling her interceptor’s chin in front of the leading TIE’s flight path in the incoming formation via a lead pursuit curve from above, to the left, and in front of her target’s nose. Knowing that the enemy could choose to engage her in a head-on given her position, SV-2121 did not waste any more time than necessary. She immediately fired off a salvo of seven bolts from her craft’s wing-mounted laser cannons after aiming, taking full advantage of their blistering rate of fire and the relatively close engagement range to maximize her chances of achieving hits on the bandit's fuselage.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Ragnos-class Fighter/Interceptor
  • Cargo and Pilot Gear
    • DS-101 “Venture” Multipurpose Protective Attire
    • “Judicator” Adaptive Battle Rifle

 

[Enyo Typhos]

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

Jedi who carried guns and wore armour were once a rarity, but now quite common. They were more interesting to fight than those wearing bathrobes. For one, they would, on average, not waste precious moments trying to convince you to turn a new leaf. That was good. Enyo disliked chatter. Her first sonic shot was blocked, her second hit home, but the Jedi retreated, temporarily obfuscated by the cloud of dust and shrapnel billowing into the air. For a moment, Enyo had lost track of her quarry. There was little in terms of illumination in the corridor.

Three sonic waves rippled towards her in quick succession. Having learned from the Jedi's trick, she fired. One shot collided with hers and there was a thunderous boom. The other two struck. Each slammed into her with a force akin to that of a Wookiee or Houk delivering a hard blow. The combined force of the blast knocked her back hard, though she kept her footing. No sound escaped her throat. The peculiar nature of her physiology meant that Enyo did not feel pain. Instead she received the equivalent of a damage report on her HUD.

However, a hard-sound gun was nothing to be trifled with. The blast caused various minor stress features. The spiderweb of fractures was the worst at the point of impact - her skull. Her cybernetic eyes flashed red, receiving flashes of static. The impact was strong enough to burst skin where it had struck, revealing pieces of metal.

Her vision soon became normal again when she rebooted, but here and there she got static. When she righted herself and stepped forward, her joints felt stiff and her gait was awkward. Hydraulic fluids dripped to the floor. There was a strange ringing sound, akin to that of microphone feedback.

Rather than charge forward, Enyo took stock of the situation. The Jedi had retreated and was out of her sight, but she could still sense her presence, though not pinpoint her. Silence had descended upon the corridor. The Jedi was clearly not out of commission, so this meant two things. Either the Jedi had used the Force to obfuscate herself, in which case she would presumably appear in her midst and ambush her, or she was lying in waiting.

Enyo switched through her vision modes and scanners, eyes flashing. Night vision, thermal, finally sonar and X-Ray after a brief burst of static. Conveniently, Enyo's helmet had been designed with a rather extensive list of features. It allowed her to see through obstructions up to a certain distance. Her gaze focused on the pillar. The Terminatrix drew power from the machine that was the Force. The energy flowed through her, exploding outward as she unleashed a mighty telekinetic blast upon the pillar, aiming to cause it to collapse. Ideally it would fall upon the Jedi. Or simply flush her out.

 

[Paz Koon]

THE RAKATAN TEMPLE
Purge The Dark
Kainan | Kascalion Giedfield

​

A gray wedge against a clear sky smote the upper atmosphere with monolithic presence. In its wake, a swarm of simulacrums appeared. New-Imperial Star Destroyers, the armada, the foretold purgers had arrived, and Generis was the newest icon of their wrath. Paz was among the army of tools, sent to the surface placate the undying dudgeon of the never-setting Iron Sun.

The Catalyst could not be allowed to fall into the hands of the machiavellian demons below. Where certainty usually presided, festering anxiety lingered. She could not portend the Catalyst's fate, despite her dogged efforts to foresee the outcome. The Dark Side clouds the future, and where the Sith were concerned, the future was muddled.

Paz led a contingent of Imperial Knights around the opposite end of the temple. Their plan was to pincer the evil within by reinforcing the initial assault from behind. It would be unsuccessful, that much the force had permitted her to foresee. Sometimes, a considerable nudge could influence the future. Sometimes, the inevitable was sealed.

Knight Lambert would slay three and then fall to a saber through the heart. Squire Vett would be eviscerated nearly as soon as they entered the temple. Knight Korosh would kill one, and succumb to the wounds gathered by trying. Knight Lazuhira would lose her head. Squire Nale would lose both arms, and end up executed on his knees.

Every death, in detail, Paz had foreseen. Alas, there was nothing to be done. The Temple stood before them, orders were given, and the Knights were zealous. Nothing would impede their will to strike at the darkness, and Paz would not stop them. She drew her sword. Nearly as long as her, the pale blade thrust into the air with violent enthusiasm.

"Follow me!" she cried, and led the charge to their deaths.

The skirmish went as foretold, aside from where she ended up. Something stygian tugged her along a path of death. Without understanding how it had come to be, she found herself on the roof, blade soaked in thick crimson. The fight up to the temple's apex was a blur, irrelevant. Whatever it was that led her here saw to it that her purpose was plainly in front of her.

The Devil.

She spared no words to rebuke the demon. Nor did any muse or cry announce her arrival. She heaved the blade onto one shoulder. Her short, cloaked frame charging forward with short strides. The Kel Dor heaved the blade forward, sending her momentum accentuating the downward plunge of gravity, intent to pincer the demon and aid her fellow Knight.

 

[Marcis Sorr]

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

Splitting up so soon? He certainly didn't mind, made his job that much easier; moving to intercept one particular pair, he did not have the opportunity to spy on most of their interactions, though he quickly noticed the suspicion in the female. She knew they were being watched.​

Pausing only momentarily to assess the large chamber in which he had found himself, he found it adequate for his purposes; shadowy corners to hide in, rubble that might serve as cover or improvised projectiles, and a small pond of stagnant water, carved from unfeeling stone by the aeons.​

Raising a single slender arm, he steadied his breath and fired off a supersonic pellet towards the brown-haired woman.​

Kicking off from the ground an instant later, he dashed towards the pair, fully intending to smash a set of rune-engraved knuckles into the ideally quite distracted male figure's back. Some of his peers were fond of their monologues and melodramatic ultimatums, but he was Echani and battle was as good as speech - these were his foes, he would consider conversation when they lay battered and broken beneath his feet.​

 

[Don Belkora]

​

B A N D I D O
New Imperial Order
COMPNOR
Allies: Kelig Ward Rika Hiro
Opposition: N/A

​

Don wasn't a man of combat; his game was bookkeeping and ordering the operations that kept COMPNORs vast enterprises intact and orderly. He did get his hands dirty when the situation called for it or whenever an underworld client got too confident and thought it a wise move to shoot a man of COMPNOR. But close quarters combat was never his exact forte, Agent Ward and the HRD made him look like an amateur. Nevertheless, he wasn't here to show off shooting skills. Belkora was the leader of the three. Don had to admit Asa scared him, even a man as cold-blooded and experienced in the cloak and dagger trade. The droid had fast garnered a reputation for being one of the best hitwomen in the agency's roster, killing with all the cold professionalism befitting the Eris HRD models. However, Don did dwell on the possibility that one day he might awake to a blaster pointed at his head and cold, soulless eyes staring back at him. A simple reality of how business was handled in the intelligence race.


The droid broke off and ventured into enemy territory leaving Belkora and the sniper Ward further up on the rise near the station, he sucked in a cold, refreshing breath and propped himself against a nearby tree. At the same time, he cleaned his bullpup blaster rifle and kept a check on comm activity. The planetary humidity was hell for both man and equipment, making Belkora think for a second he was in a sauna or some swampy Hutt backwater again. The tranquillity of the jungle soon broke however when the distant guns roared a trip away. Mostly likely either the Galidraani brigade or Major Bolter's men were making contact with the dug-in enemy forces. Which worked plenty for the three of them, meant less likely having to fight through a small army or being blasted to dust by a walker.

<<"Agent Yubari, this is Belkora, secure a route and dispose of any lay arounds, I will rendezvous shortly over.">>

Belkora turned away from his comms and placed his flat cap back on, cursing silently under his breath at the heat and praying he'd not leave the planet in a body bag. ​

​

​

 

[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

told u thats not how i sound

They had to suppress the urge to growl as Dagon slowed down, shut off his saber and touched their shoulder. "I am fine, Dagon Kaze, but-" Right as they were about to say something? Those eyes grew wide and for a brief moment there was only emerald. "Behind me, you fool." And there was nothing Violet there, as they yanked him back and out of nowhere something brilliant flared up.

It was not a lightsaber.

Strange that, wasn't it? How for as many times Dagon had seen Violet, he had never actually seen a lightsaber on her. Not clipped on her belt, ignited in her hands, nothing. And now the reason was clear, she didn't need one. Instead as the pellet raced forward to rip through her, Violet wielded a large shimmering emerald blade. Even wielded was the wrong word here, as it seemed to be part of her, her hand disappearing inside as it pulsed and flared with the steady beat of a heart.... or something else.

"We are under attack, De-" Violet was back, all of a sudden, blinking just as Marcis raced out towards them.

His original target had been Dagon, but because of the way she had pulled him behind her? Now the Sith was gunning straight for her. While she was distracted by the earie sense of taking control of her own body again.

Marcis' fist slammed straight into her gut.

The shine of green shone through the fabric of her clothes.

get your chit together, i cant move you and be in this form.

Violet used Marcis' momentum, the way he had slammed into her, to stumble back and create room for herself. Immediately letting out a Force Push, focusing on the air between them... and letting it rip straight into Sorr's form.

 

[Laertia Io]

Daughter, Laertia spoke to her creation Lyssa through her technopath skill. I might be here a while. Take some of your brothers to the temple. Kill anyone who tries to impede you."

"Yes, Mother." Lyssa said serenely as she decapitated another Jedi Knight while Laertia engaged Khefiir , who had stopped her blade with Soresu.

As she signalled half the Nuetralizers to follow her, shooting and killing their way to the temple, Laertia battled Khefiir much more aggressively, encorporating Juyo into her strikes as she began to systematically target his impressive defense, chuckling a bit as he killed one of the Amalgam's Witches, whose head exploded in a burst of white blood and rotten looking yellow organ.

The flames of the strange teal blade hissed as they crackled against his blade. She brought it down at random, unpredictable angles, giving herself to randomness in her blend of Form One and Form 007.

She appreciated that he understood the time for talk between them was over. Some Jedi just talk on and on, and she found it insufferable in combat.

Her strikes came with the rapidity of Machine Gun fire, trying to tire his arms out, throwing in a Falling Avalanche technique, trying to kill him with vertical strikes, not staying in one place any more than he did, because she was 'fully' aware of what he was attempting to do...

Sixteen year old Laertia Io attacked Ursula Sandraven, her beloved Mentor, with a training blade.

Ursula seemed to prefer Soresu, Laertia observed of the Purple Twi'lek in the skin tight white catsuit as she patiently defended against some of Laertia's strongest, most powerful attacks, seemingly unmoving, but interfering with her own attacks.

"Strength alone will not guarantee victory, Padawan. Not against an enemy with a fast, constantly moving defense." Ursula warned Laertia as she interrupted Laertia's fluid assault at just the right moments.

"Study how I interrupt your attacks, use your strength against you to aid in my manuevering..." Ursula advised as Laertia pulled back, guarding. She was in gray training robes, ebon hair done up in Princess Leia style buns.

"Howwz dooz I do dhatz, Ursy?" Laertia asked.

"This will sound odd, but it requires...empathy. The ability to empathize with a target. To put yourself in their position: What would you do, if it was you on the defensive. What step would you take?"

Laertia paused, thinking about it.

"I suppozez I wudz dooz wutz yooz arr doinz ryte now anndz innterruptz myy attak anngulz."

"What would you dread being tried on you while attempting this?" Ursula pressed.

Laertia thought a moment and then rushed Ursula, who was forced to start outright dodging and leaping out of the way of most of her Padawan's Attacks, as Laertia had begun using her own Soresu cross training to start stabbing and thrusting closer to where Ursula's arms, hips and legs would be.

Ursula began adjusting, trying to block only for Laertia to start feinting her blows, or simply refusing to strike when she was expected.

The Monster hiding in Ursula was utterly delighted at how quickly Laertia adapted...

Laertia began mixing in the Assured Strike Technique from Juyo as she attacked the Battlemaster, sacrificing most of the strength of her attacks for the near certainty of landing a blow at his arms, adjusting her own tactics based on his foot posture, rate at which he blocked on average as well as his own positioning, throwing feints into her scientifically calculated attacks, trying to anticipate where he would move and when and altering her swing and stab angles to try and interrupt and sabotage his defense as best she could, not ceasing attempting to genuinely kill him with each attack.

Meanwhile, Lyssa and the Nuetralizers continued their slaughter unbidden, fighting and killing their way through Jedi and Stormtroopers and sustaining few casualties, as enemy soldiers were starting to find out they had back up power sources, and the only surefire way to permanently down one was to destroy the head or inflict such overwhelming damage on the chassis it wouldn't matter if the head was left.

Lyssa of course was another matter entirely.

Lightsabers integrated into arms composed of Nanites, she used her onboard Lightsaber training in a defensive fashion, deflecting blasterbolts back at their source, the Lightsabers of enemy Jedi skittering off the surface of her body before she retaliated and cut them down , as she cut her way to the entrance, she spotted Marcad and his troops.

The Nanite Assassin Droid ordered the metal skeletons around her to fire on his troopers, while she stormed the steps, her guise of a pale woman in silvery, spiked biker gear completely at odds with the others around her, nanites her arms were made of completely molded around stolen Lightsabers as she cut her way to him...

 

[Dagon Kaze]

RAKATAN TEMPLE
NEW JEDI ORDER
TO ENGAGE: Marcis Sorr
THE LOGICAL SONG

...make sure they get back home safe and sound.​

Dagon jerked his head back trying to figure out what in the Force was going on with her. The way she spoke, the way she acted - through the Force her presence felt...foreign.

Danger.

"Behind me, you fool."

"What the--"

She was quicker; hauling him behind her he stumbled almost falling but managed to keep his balance in check. He shifted around only to see an ethereal blade of emerald shine in her hand. Or, well, becoming her hand.

The assailant made himself known with his punch landing straight into Violet's gut sending her back into him. She fell into his arms just as she vindictively released a Force Push at their attacker. Instinct kicked in and the padawan's own palm snapped forward underneath Vee's arm, also releasing a Force Push of his own. Should it push back the Sith, Dagon would activate his blue blade and step forward putting himself in between the two. Confusion and concern veiled beneath the trained stance.

GA | NIO | ALLIES | Ryv | Violet Horne | Kaska Arden | Viers Connory | Viera | Zaavik Perl | Auraya Irath-Ur | Rurik Fel | Kainan
TSE | ENEMIES

 

[Khefiir]

OBJECTIVE 3(a)
OCCUPY Laertia Io 's BATTLE DROIDS AND WITCH MINIONS
TO KEEP THEM AWAY FROM THE JEDI VISITING THE RAKATA RUIN
AND ALSO SMARTEN THEM UP A LITTLE​

The Jedi Guardians stood firm despite their losses, stuck together in knots of mutual defense, and littered the jungle floor with pieces of battle droid. Lightsabers flared; ionizing energy snapped and crackled. The enemy force had split and split again, on the assumption that a quarter or so of their strength could overwhelm the Jedi easily. That expectation proved fruitless.

Khefiir wasn't paying much attention. His focus rested entirely on the Black Knight of Nar Shaddaa. His state of mind couldn't have been more different, in a way that went deep past the contrast between his serenity and Laertia's bloodthirsty fanaticism. He could almost see the wheels turning behind her eyes - he'd known many duellists like her, always looking for the perfect angle again and again. Khefiir ascribed to what he considered a truer way, an emptiness and state of flow. In time he'd grieve the Jedi who'd fallen here, and those they'd killed as well. But for now, empty clarity snapped his Soresu defense from angle to angle, matching every shift of timing and direction. He flinched as a graze sizzled off his scales, disintegrated a line of his robe. First blood in some little sense.

He called on the Force in a way that hadn't been seen in combat for a few hundred thousand years: the arts he'd learned from the dying Mist-Weaver K'narik. Separate from Khefiir, the Force spun itself into physical strands of resilient, elastic silk above and behind Laertia: the sacred mist-weaving.

It became a garotte. With a flick of his eyes, he tried to loop it around her neck and choke her from behind. If he succeeded, the garotte would become a noose and yank sharply up.

The Force was meant for knowledge and defense, not attack - but breaking Laertia Io's neck would do a whole lot to defend the Jedi.

 

[Darth Ahriman]

Allies: Saket Keane & The Sith Empire.
Opposition: Areyon (Potentially).
Location: Rakatan Temple Outskirts.
Inventory: Simple Jedi Robes, Jedi Training Saber.

​

The sound of fighting had drawn Valen towards the Outskirts of an old-looking Temple overrun with weeds, moss and all manner of flora native to the world. From out of the thick of Generis' wilderness; the young lad emerged with his Lightsaber Hilt clutched tightly within his right hand, his eyes wide as he stared up at the Temple baring down on him, and feeling what he could only describe as some kind of powerful presence emanating from within, be it those fighting, or something more.

Between the New Imperial Order and the Sith Empire, Valen knew not their history, their reasons for warring against one another, nor how to distinguish one from the other. The Jedi of the Galactic Alliance may have been a different story, but then he himself likely appeared to be one of them, arriving with the only possessions he owned, those being received by others of the similar following. He didn't yet have a reason to seek to engage anyone in combat, yet the questions he had, he believed could be answered by those of the Sith Empire and so it was them who he sought to rally alongside, to aid and hopefully in return gain some insight as to who his parents were and where he had come from, how he had wound up enslaved by the Disciples of Typhojem, a Sith prophet or deity of some kind.

TIE Fighters screamed overhead once more, blaster cannons opening up and Valen feeling the rumbling of the earth beneath his feet as their shots landed on the other side of the Temple, his guess being that was where the fighting was, so very close to his position; His only weapon and form of defence being a training tool, able to fend off another lightsaber or blaster fire yet doing nothing in the way of offence against those that might seek to harm him. What madness it would have seemed, to be found within a battle-zone with a lightsaber barely worth the name.

Perhaps if he was fortunate enough, he could salvage something from the fallen on the other side, maybe even wait out the bulk of the fighting and then move to enter the Temple, assuming that's where the Sith were, and certainly where he felt he needed to be judging from the presence of the Force surrounding the area...

Moving on, Valen kept close to the Temple exterior, trying to keep himself out of sight as much as possible while approaching the battlefront, a mix of fear and exhilaration running through him, knowing the risks he was taking, yet unable to turn back having come this far. In his mind, there was nothing left for him where he had come from, and only something to gain if he would just continue to persevere, to reach those within the Empire who could teach him more about the cult's origins and with luck, his own.

 

[Viera]

Objective: Capture the Temple, Subdue Any Sith
Location: Generis, Rakatan Temple -> Approaching the Right Flank
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 stopped, turning to face Viers as she spoke. The Thyrsian raised an eyebrow, curious at what the young woman had up her sleeves. And Viers certainly had one hell of a trick hidden up there. Viera’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, before she gave a knowing nod.

“That’s a very handy ability, Viers.” She looked around, assuming the young woman had moved from her initial spot. Force Camouflage was impossible to see to the naked eye, but there was still the shuffle of leaves. Invisible she might be, but she was still a physical form disturbing the fallen flora.

“Be mindful of your emotions however, those can still be picked up.” Although Viera couldn’t imagine that would be a simple feat. If there was an empath on the enemy side, it was going to be difficult to pin down particular emotions on an active battlefield.

Trying to judge where Viers had gone, Viera called upon the Force and drew it into herself. Dagon’s use of Force Valor expedited the process as the Thyrsian focused the energy towards her Sight. Her connection with Viers, as an ally, allowed Viera to peer through the cloak. It took a bit of looking around, but eventually Viera caught sight of a transparent Viers squatting just ahead of her.

Viera refrained from commenting on the choice of posture. Instead, she walked up to and crouched just behind her, placing a hand a bit above Viers’ shoulder. “This way.” She said, pointing ahead of them, just to the left where the architecture of the temple was peeking through the trees.

“Keep low, the main force is likely to hit the defences any moment.” Invisible Viers might be, but Viera doubted that would stop flaming debris and stray blaster fire heading their way. “We’ll sneak up to their right flank, and hopefully catch them unaware and hop over. I’ll draw their attention, while you work on disabling whatever mechanical defences they have.”

 

[Jax Sloane]

L E G A C Y
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ARMOURED BATTALION
74-Z Speeder Bike Squad
Proximity: Willan Tal , SF-3335

F A S T _ C A R S​

Trees whipped past him.

In the peripherals of his helmets visor he could see the other members of his squad cutting off to the flanks. The Galidraani brigade was ahead, and though he received some communication, Jax otherwise ignored them. That is, he would until he was directly contacted. Until then, the NCO Commander focused closely to the trees and underbrush that he avoided near collisions with.

Traps could be aware. Enemy forces hidden, tracking him and his unit as they combed through the trees. On his helmet, in the distance, he could see the IFF of the forward units. And it hadn't taken them long to pass them entirely, in close proximity, their comms should've worked, and Jax tapped in directly to the Major DECEASED Erskine Barran .

"Commander Sloane, reporting. Engagement with Sith-Imperial vanguard forces is imminent." On the comms, he had already heard of the retreating forces of the Blue Hearts. The Sith's forces had already entered the forest and were in the midst of marching deeper, where the speeders would begin performing their task. Along the edge of the forest lines, the speeders cut in after a single ready check along Jax's squads commline. Cutting in abruptly, the gunned speeders immediately set to firing.

Chances were the vehicles didn't possess the punch to truly damage the repulsor tanks or walkers, but deliberately slowing the sallying out forces was enough. It'd the following forces to engage with the distracted Sith Imperials and take them apart, piece by piece. His squad was little more than a sacrificial lamb, and Jax was content with being such. The thrill of battle? The feel of the blood pumping through him? It felt... Good.

"Walkers," Jax grumbled in his helmet. And then the forces of Willan Tal popped into his IFF. "Grenades!" Jax ordered. His own ion grenade being drawn from a place on his torso as his speeder raced through the lines of walkers. Veering through the foliage and their legs as he tossed a duo of ion grenades at the head of one of the walkers. Lurching to the side to avoid a rapidly approaching tree, and circling around it to begin his second charge.

ALLIES | NIO | Konrad Bolter | Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran
ENEMIES | TSE | SF-3335 | Marimax Mortui