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Dark Zone | CIS Dominion of Melida/Daan (R,50)



Over the course of centuries, tensions and conflicts would tug at the seams of Melida/Daan. Her people, divided into two contrasting camps, always maintained a shaky peace with one another. At times, that peace would persist for decades. At others, stride would consume the entire world. From an outside perspective, it seemed as though the far flung planet would always be doomed to turn against itself. With every passing generation, new reasons to fight would arise - and blood would continue to spill.

One might then consider it a terrifying fortune that the cataclysm befell them.

For in the midst of their strife, Zehava - the Segregated Capital - was struck. Neither side would admit of claim responsibility for the act of sheer terror unleashed upon the millions of souls, but under the cover of darkness and explosion rocked the metropolis. In the hours that followed, the people began to exhibit...strange behaviors. The hospitals were quickly overrun with the ailing. The healthy and the vibrant were laid low - as were the frail and the ancient. The plague which swept through the city was the definition of indiscriminate.

And for once, the opposing camps were forced to work together. At first, every effort was made to attend to the sick and the dying. But even the most modern of medical techniques proved useless against the plague. Mortality rates were alarming - with over seventy percent of those afflicted perishing within the week. Those who survived...underwent monstrous changes and became even more infectous to the population. The Melida and the Daan then made a hard decision: they quarantined the capital city. It was suspected that the plague was transmitted by every conceivable means - by water, air, blood, etc. In light of this...Zehava had to die so that the world could live. The Capital became a Dark Zone.

But even in the midst of the decaying splendor that once was the metropolis, the people never forgot their own. Sponsored by both camps, a team of research personnel ventured into the Darkness. They were tasked with discovering what caused the calamity and - most importanly - using their findings to put together some semblance of a cure. Yet, only three days after the start of their journey, the team went dark. It was at this point that desperation set in. Millions of souls were now locked behind an iron curtain, waiting for death. The Melida and the Daan could not sit by and watch such tragedy unfold.

Their plea across the stars was answered.

The Confederacy swiftly dispatched a team intent on recovering the lost research team. But only shortly entering into the Dark Zone Airspace did their dropship lose contact. It is presumed that their vessel veered off course and crashed in the downtown area; based on active projections. At present, only a handful of hours have passed since the disappearance of the Confederacy's initial team. Now, it falls upon the second wave to pick up where their comrades left off. Now, the iron curtain of Zehava will lift to admit yet another team of brave souls.

Now was the time to Survive


You have crashed. What was meant to be a routine search and rescue operation fell to pieces in seconds. The dropship was only seconds away from landing within a stone's throw of the research team's last known location. You have come to amidst a flaming wreckage, snow, and the corpses of fell crew members. Armaments are few and far between. Rations are even more scarce. With only a re-breather and fellow survivors as allies, time is your number one enemy. Your mission is to endure the hellish cold, secure what remains of the research team, and escape the Dark Zone.


You have arrived. The towering, Iron Gates of Zehava have been opened to admit a team of Confederate personnel. Your job is to venture across the hellscape towards the dropship's last known locale. It is a due north trek from here - but you have been briefed on the worst case scenario. You are entering a starving city. There is no running water. There are no resources. Those who now survive within the Dark Zone are desperate...and thereby prone to making terrifying decisions. Proceed with caution, collect your allies, and live to see another day.

[member="Aedan Miles"], [member="Ahani Najwa"], [member="Ailuros"], [member="Aithne Charr"], [member="Akabane"], [member=”Alden Kyr’Nau”], [member="Aleksander Miles"], [member="Alistair Myre"], [member="Alyva Terrix"], [member="Amaya Cardei"], @Anastasia Verd, [member="Anya Malvern"], [member="Aoker Veru"], [member="Aova Nerys"], [member="Arabella Darkhold"], [member="Aria Lyr"], [member="Arlox"], @Averin An’Arach, [member="Aya Clarke"], [member="Asher Mossa"], [member="Aston Jacobs"], [member="B1-990"], [member="B2-D34T7"], [member="Ballen-Ist"], [member="Bulthos Dorrir"], @Bartic Myth’rand, [member="BBZ-20"], [member="Ben Mentel"], @BX-22222, [member="BX-24601"], [member="BX-25233"], [member="BX-72967"], [member="BX-73300"], [member="BX-75244"], [member="Causstik Rahn"], [member="Chalim Vern"], [member="Chek Zun"], [member="Chikako Liona"], [member="Connor Harrison"], [member="Dakita Calfur"], [member="Dalton Kenway"], [member="Damien Van-Derveld"], [member="Darth Atrox"], [member="Darth Illisus"], [member="Darth Inanis"], [member="Darth Malus"], [member="Darth Nius"], [member="Darth Phren"], [member="Darth Rixas"], [member="Darth Seraphic"], [member="Darth Zurvan"], [member="Daxton Bane"], [member="DE-16"], [member="Derek Dib"], [member="Dinah Vekarr"], [member="Drauchir"], [member="Duidatos"], [member="DV8-420"], [member="Eirene"], [member="Ella Nova"], [member="Emberly Carrick"], [member=”Er’in Tenel”], [member="Faa Vera"], [member="Faustina Beryll"], [member="Fidelis"], [member="Galven Hansol"], [member="Gorm"], [member="Ginnie Verd"], [member="Hades Dai"], [member="Hircine"], [member="Hypatia Najwa"], [member="Iris Issey"], @Irys Arist’lar, [member="Ithiel Verd"], [member="Iskander Verd"], @Izak Verd, [member=”J’Raa”], [member="Jack Anderson"], @Jahn Harrington, @Jasmine Zittoun, [member="Jaya Tandris"], [member="Jayce Pryde"], [member="Jennifer Blanchard"], [member="Jia Darkhold"], [member="Jorco Czeku"], [member="Jaron Lesan"], [member="Jerad Lettiere"], @Kaiya Halcyon, [member="Kal Jaii"], [member="Kal Kandossii"], [member="Karlie Lynn Destat"], [member="Kas Varad"], [member="Katria Vekarr"], [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"], [member="Kayla Wylen"], [member="Keric Dynt"], [member="Ket Van-Derveld"], [member="Karlie Lynn Destat"], [member="Kas Varad"], [member="Kip Ridel"], [member="Kyle Ajahn"], [member="Khia Varad"], Kilia, [member="Koda Fett"], [member="Kurayami Bloodborn"], [member="Kurenai Yumi"], [member="Lady Psyona"], Lanna, [member="Lera DeVana"], [member="Lewis"], @Lola An’Arach, @Lord Metallum, [member="Luna Terrik"], [member="Lyla Quinn"], [member="Lera DeVana"], [member="Meira"], [member="Maple Harte"], [member="Marcus Lund"], [member="Marek Starchaser"], [member="Maxerian Gron"], [member="Meira"], [member="Miki Starfallen"], [member="Minerva Vessia"], [member="Mira"] Talus, [member="Muad Dib"], [member="Mythira"], [member="Nasho Vesh"], [member="Natasha Darkstar"], [member="Nayru Wyndaru"], [member="Nicholas Covosi"], [member="Nilia Saavilin"], [member="Noatyr Moldmerr"], [member="Pitts Carnegue"], [member="Nyx"], [member="One-Eyed Jack Varren"], [member="Orion Trex"], [member="Paige Blossom"], [member="Pitts Carnegue"], [member="Romano Shamalain"], [member="Prime"], [member="R4N-JR"], [member="Rale Elysar"], [member="Rapax"], [member="Rashae"], [member="Raziel"], [member="Rex Taff"], [member="Riggs"], [member="Rima Orwray"], [member="Rosaline Rousseau"], [member="Ryker Wylde"], [member="Samantha Jade"], [member="Scherezade deWinter"], [member="Shadar-Pox"], @Sko’saht, [member="Sol Damerin"], [member="Space Prius"], [member="Srina Talon"], [member="Sungie"], [member="Super TD-T47"], [member="Surnin Strenger"], [member="Taran Holt"], [member="Tevro"], [member="Tarssin Destat"], [member="The Fallen"], [member="The Slave"], [member="Titan"], [member="Tmoxin Temi"], [member="Tyrande of Isobe"], [member="Tyris Hayes"], [member="Tytos Ardik"], [member="Valis Marr"], [member="Valjan"] Hon’rey, [member="Verd Skirata"], [member="Veronika Fleischer"], [member="Viktor Hawthorne"], @Vinter Veers, [member=”Vuh’kis”], [member="Vulture 21"], [member="Vyra Silara"], [member="Werah Unon"], [member="Xero Wran"], [member="Yuna Hart"], [member="Zenva Vrotoa"], [member="Zephyr Carrick"], [member="Zesiro"], @Zhorin Cenvax

Noatyr Moldmerr

Neutralish Warrior
Time: ​Three Hours Ago (Shortly after the crash)

Location: Crash Zone, The Capital

Objective: Survive

He could feel rubble and torn metal underneath his fingers. That was an odd combination of sleeping materials. He had slept on one or both more then once, but at the same time?

Slowly his eyes opened, purging his world of the inky blackness, only to find himself in a world far darker then when his eyes were closed. The ship, was gone, collided with one of the many buildings of the city, and no longer functional for transport. The rest of the team, probably dead, or injured, and now he was stuck within a hazardous, dangerous, and polluted city, with no means of calling for assistance. Bloody perfect.

Shakily, his body getting over it's shock, he slowly stood up, his hands checking his face for cuts. He seemed fine, for the most part.

When the ship had crashed, it seemed he had been flung from the wreckage, and had been lying in some of the rubble. He was lucky to still be alive. Was he the only one still breathing?

''For that matter, how am I...?''​ He checked his re-breather, that he had strapped onto his face shortly after they had entered the planet's atmosphere, running his fingers along it. There was no signs of damage, just a few small nicks from where his face had hit the rubble, nothing to worry about. He thanked whatever god the people of the planet praised.

His eyes moved to the ground before him, a particular object catching his attention. He took a step forward, and wrenched it from where it had been trapped between some debris. The object was his Vibrosword, and thankfully it hadn't been bent or dented, which was a good sign. From what he had been told in the briefing, this place wasn't the kind to be walking around weaponless. Noatyr briskly strapped the blade to his belt.

​''Might as well check for any surviving team members... more help the better.''​ He muttered to himself, his voice coming out deeper through the re-breather then it would normally. The young man ran his hand through his ginger hair once, brushing some lose strands from his eyes, before turning back to the crash zone, his mind set on finding even one creature still alive.
I'm too old for this
Objective: 1 (fix your broken bones)
Not Dead People: [member="Noatyr Moldmerr"]
Post: 1

The world seemed to spin around in circles as Kurenai pushed herself off the ground, ears ringing like a massive explosion had been set off nearby, well in this case something with similar results anyways, the question was why? One seconds the shuttle was making a smooth run for the quarantined area, the next hurtling into the ground, Kurenai lucky enough to be one of the few people to no black out in the crash, having been subjected to the same experiences many times over. That did not make the situation any more dire then it was, more so with being thrown out of the ships widow, landing in a very uncomfortable manner.

Leaning forwards a sudden pain ripped up her back, the woman's blue gaze fulling upon a small pieces of reinforcing metal sticking out of her waist, blood slowly dripping down the sharp object, spattering against the dark grimy floor of the once populated city. What more, judging from the way her leg was twisted each breath short and stinging there was a high possibility that she had broken a few bones and ribs during the landing, "j-just, what I need now... what a nuance... best fix this leg up... breath in.. breath out".

Reaching out with the force Kurenai worked around her leg, sensing the broken areas, where the bone needed to be relined, in the few hours passing her healing ability doing most of the work, it just needed that one push. "Wish I had something to bite on, but can take my breather off... just tough it out Abigail, you have had worse". Taking hold with the force Kurenai quickly snapped it to the side, a muffled yell coming from her mouth as she replied the broken bone, letting out a deep sigh when all done. Tiling her head back on the ground for she stayed several more minutes, letting the rest of her body regenerate, well what parts that could, she still needed to remove that metal spike stuck in her waist.

"... ... ... ... I best move now, check to see if anyone else is alive... hmmm do I hear something"? not far away she could feel and hear the movements of someone else. Tilting her head Kurenai's gaze fell upon a ginger haired boy, seeming to be rummaging through the rubble, though unfortunately his name eluded her, "better then no one... argh so annoying... alright here we go". Though not at full efficiency her leg had heal up enough to stand, still the metal spike in her side being a nuisance, sending waves of pain through her body with each movement, "nggh, I've really been out of practice, 60 years ago this would not have been a problem". Grasping hold of the sharp object, Kurenai began to pull it out, blood starting to run down her leg as it came out inch by inch, a small clatter ringing throughout the streets as she finally discarded the metal object, herself leaning up against a nearby wall to rest.

"We are quite karked".

Location: Crash site
Wearing: Boots, Cape,
Wielding: 12 Czerka Knives, 6 Glitter Bullets
Objective: Survive
Tags: [member="Kurenai Yumi"] [member="Noatyr Moldmerr"] || anyone else that's going to be in this objective
Post: 1

She hadn't wanted to go on this mission. This silly, stupid, recklessly dangerous mission. For some reason the CIS was under the impression that they were obligated to help anyone and everyone who asked for it, but there were things that were just too bad to get into. Even she knew that.

Scherezade hadn't even planned on joining. Let them deal with it on their own, she'd thought. There was no contract, no promise, that obligated her to be a part of this. Which made it even worse when she realized she absolutely had to. Her months with the CIS had left her with a reputation that was... Less than desired. There were things she had to fix, and staying safely tucked away was not going to do that.

Plus, there were no alternative missions available, and staying at home doing nothing was bound to get her worked up and anxious anyway.

She had not counted on the crashing. She had probably screamed when it happened, but she wasn't sure. And then there was the unwanted blackness again, so similiar to the one she'd been stuck in for centuries. Scherezade felt fear.

And then she opened her eyes. She was alive. That was progress. Her hands went up, checking her body. Two of the knives had stabbed her during the crash, which, considering how armed to the teeth she was, was pretty lucky. She could handle two stab wounds.

"$*#@(#@(@%," came swear words that no one who looked like that should ever know. She hadn't just survived it. She was on Melida\Daan. The atmosphere was dangerous. She had a re-breather that was still, thank the Force, on her face, no damage done.

Scherezae jumped to her feet, looking wildly around. There were other people there. One of them mentioned them being karked.

"That's a very light way of putting it," she remarked, her tone giving away the mixture of anger and fear that ran through her now, "we need to get the frak out of here. These masks don't last forever and you can't attack whatever is happening on this planet with a knife or a lightsaber."

Chit. Chit. Things were worse than bad.

With a groan, she removed one knife that was lodged in her left arm, and used the Force to remove the one that was wedged into the flesh of the back of her right thigh. The blood already began to pour, but she heeded it no mind now. There were things she had to tend to before she started trying to heal herself. She coughed, forcing herself to regain control of her senses and emotions. There was a lot of rubble around them. How many people had even been on the drop ship? Was it only one drop ship that had cashed?

"Gather everyone who was on that ship. Injured people to here," she motioned at where [member="Kurenai Yumi"] was resting against the wall, "dead people over there," she motioned to a random spot. "Anyone well enough to scout for immediate danger that isn't the unbreathable air?"

Location: Dark Zone Crash Site
Wearing: This

When the decision to descend to an infectious nightmare in order to retrieve the lost research team had been made the craft had taken mostly volunteers. The Knights Obsidian were brave, and the Mandragora were resourceful, but even their usual tenacity would have a hard time overcoming this. Srina had not ordered her siblings to come, nor had she informed them of her verdict to go, leaving them to come to their own decisions. The Vicelord of the Confederacy could not risk himself in such a place. This was an enemy they could not fight, could not see, and had no cure for. It had taken days of arguing with her Master to get him to see reason. In the end, it was clear:

Without Darth Metus—the entirety of the CIS would be lost. He could not go.

And so, when the rescue operation went underway, Srina packed appropriately. Their typical uniforms had been replaced by standard, armored, protective suits to shield them from the hostile environment. They had been created by their science division to protect them from the effects of the chemical warfare that had afflicted the planet below. Personal protection was only half the battle, and the suits came with a variety of collection kits, medical supplies and patch kits on their utility belts.

Every test they had run, against all sorts of chemicals and horrifying hazardous bio-weapons, had been successful with only an inestimably small margin for error. They were tough as hell, built for mobility, and based on patented CIS technology designed to keep organic soldiers alive in environments where it should not be capable. Each suit had full life support systems, state-of-the-art comms, a slot in the hard upper torso for several rice paper covered fruit and cereal bars, which could be pulled up by the teeth, and eaten all at once to avoid issues with crumbs, as well as In-suit drinking bags.

Oxygen reserves were pristine. They could go days within the small suits before needing to recharge. That was a good thing, considering, they were not permitted to remove their helmets or any part of their suit at any time. Every inch of space that they touched, the moment they landed on solid ground, was to be considered infectious and lethal.

Decontamination protocol and testing after the mission for those that participated was sure to be a nightmare. Yet, they could all understand what was at stake. They could not take the risk of exposing the rest of the system to this plague. Under no circumstances could it be allowed to spread. This was why they needed to find the research team, gather their findings, and return to them to space so they could continue their work.

The white-haired Echani had been feeling confident, despite the twisting feeling in her gut as the dropship passed through the atmosphere, but…That didn’t last. Something hit them just before landing. Srina didn’t know what. She had never seen out of the viewport to make any assessments, but she did know, that they were spinning out of control. Many tried to strap themselves in as fast as they could. Srina tightened her crash webbing, and reached with the Force, trying to steady the ship…But it didn’t matter.

It was spinning too fast, too hard out of control, and there wasn’t enough time. The ground came up faster than she would have thought possible. The last thing she remembered was impact.


Everything hurt. She was hanging, still stuck in the restraints of the drop pod, and she could feel that something was broken. The harness kept her alive, certainly, and her suit cushioned the blow but nothing could completely save anyone from that kind of crash. Sparks going off near her head jolted her into wakefulness and she sluggishly slapped at the release from her crash webbing. She couldn’t think straight enough to use it properly, or, to realize that it was jammed.

Only static came in through her comm. No voices. Just static. It was only then that she realized that she had crashed in PART of the ship. The rest of it was missing. Probably torn off from tearing through the Dark Zone until something big enough finally stopped it. Beside her on the ground lay a very human, very bloody arm, with no body in sight. She swallowed hard, praying selfishly, that it didn’t belong to one of her siblings or anyone she knew. “Navi…”, she wheezed, trying to get the AI in the suit to respond, “Functionality report. Damage Report. Where are my comms?”

‘Oddly enough, despite your injuries, your armor has fared rather well. You have several broken ribs. A hemostatic agent has been applied with injectable bacta to mitigate internal bleeding. No breach has been detected. I have prioritized your life over the repairing communications. Please stand by for further analysis, Lady Talon.’

Had she the energy or the wherewithal to complain about being called a ‘Lady’ she would have done so. Without warning her crash webbing gave way and her body dropped to the ground with a thud. She groaned, feeling as if she should never breathe again, but remained grateful her suit had retained its integrity. “Where is everyone else? Casualties?”

‘Scanning now. Casualties, unknown.’

Srina squeezed her eyes closed. She had to get up. She could see flame still burning and knew the logical plan revolved getting away from something that could possibly explode. Biting hard on her tongue, she stubbornly pushed herself up from the remains of twisted metal, glass, and the leftovers of a once pristine dropship. There were durasteel cargo-boxes strewn everywhere. Once standing, her right arm crossed over her stomach, but she ground her teeth together and kept moving. One foot in front of the other, she kept her eyes peeled, looking for other survivors.

This rescue operation was not going as planned. Breathing as deep as she dared, she called out through the speakers on her armor, trying to find another living soul. She couldn’t have been the only one to survive. She just…Couldn’t.

“This is Srina Talon of the Confederacy of Independent Systems…Is anyone alive out there? Can anyone hear me?”

[member="Noatyr Moldmerr"] [member="Scherezade deWinter"] [member="Kurenai Yumi"]

Noatyr Moldmerr

Neutralish Warrior

Location: Crash Zone, The Capital

Other peoples: [member="Kurenai Yumi"], [member="Scherezade deWinter"], [member="Srina Talon"]

Equipment: Re-Breather, Vibrosword, Short-Wave Transmitter, Clothes on his back

Kicking aside a piece of scrap metal, Noatyr's ear twitched when he heard the familiar sound of another living creature, and he looked up with relief, to see a dark haired woman standing in the wreckage, injured, but alive. That was a welcome sight. At least he wasn't the only one.

''Y'don't say?'' ​He chuckled weakly through his teeth.

He took a moment to look her over, his keen eyes noting every detail about her. her eyes were a shining blue to his dull red, and her hair was so dark it was almost blue. She looked like his polar opposite in every way. The odd thing was her age. He couldn't gauge it. Not that he had the time to anyway, she wasn't looking to good, and that was an understatement.

He had felt fine, until now, but with the numbness fading, alongside a slight breeze had made him realize that there was a rather good sized hole in his shirt, he was beginning to feel a throbbing from his side, and the steady flow of liquid slowly running down his skin. He took a look down at his side, and was greeted by a rather large gash that bled slowly down his side. A sharp pain stung his ribs for a moment, and it became clear that a few of his ribs had been damaged as well.

''Bloody perfect.''​ He would have laughed at the little mental joke any other time, but now he needed to find himself and his newly found...wait a minute. Another girl had just appeared from the debris, a brown haired one, who looked younger then him.

She was already going on about the threats being far to strong for knife or lightsaber, and escape. The escape part he could perfectly understand, but she should really speak for herself, at least in his opinion. There were probably tons who could take on dangers such as the one's they might deal with nothing but a good blade in hand.

And she had just taken the lead. However, he could see that they were all similarly injured, or at the very least, had sustained damage. He figured he was best off, at least in that moment, to scout ahead. Maybe he could swipe some bandages or something similar from one of the nearby buildings. It was clear that unless one of the medical devices aboard the ship was still functional, or one of them knew some sort of healing trick, bandages would be necessary.

​''I'll scout around, maybe find something useful while I'm at it. Can't say I feel right leaving two injured friends alone, but I'll assume you can handle yourselves. Noatyr's the name if you wanted to know. Shame we had to meet under these circumstances.''​ He sighed, spinning back to the surrounding city.

He hadn't been paying attention until now, but he could see why they referred to it as the ''Dark Zone.'' The ambiance for the city just felt...wrong. It was disturbing, to say the least. What was worse was that the brown haired girl was right, they only had so much time before the re-breathers ran out of safe air, and that meant they would either have to find a refill somewhere within the city if things went south, or they'd all parish within the Dark Zone.

​''Sunnofa...''​ He muttered to himself, when the sound of beeping interrupted his cuss. His hand glided to his jacket pocket, and he retrieved the source of the interruption. He flicked the transmitter on, hoping with all his might that somehow another recuse team had been deployed, however, the voice that greeted him on the other side of the transmission was not the soothing voice of rescue, but the frightened voice of needing said rescue.

​''I...WE, hear you, loud and clear, which means you must be close by, which is a good sign.''​ He said calmly, his eyes narrowed as he squinted at one of the buildings down the street. He thought he could make out something through one of the windows, but he couldn't tell if it were useful, or just junk left over by the dead.

The transmitter crackled with static, and he tapped it a few times. Hopefully it wouldn't decide to give up on him.

He shifted his stare between the transmitter, the two injured women, and the building down the street. This wasn't going to be easy.

For an entire day, there was arguing.

The challenge that had been presented to the Confederacy was one of the utmost urgency. A research collective had dived into the mouth of Hell, but had been consumed by its flames. Now it fell upon them to be the savior. For the Vicelord, the operation was viewed through the lense of his own personal experiences - and not what would happen should he fall. He was a warrior: a native of Mandalore who had bested Death itself. From the time of his adolescents, he had been in situations similar to this one. Whether it was Rakghoul infested tunnels or Sithspawn corrupted capital ships, Darth Metus endured it all.

But [member="Srina Talon"] was the voice of reason. She always was. When they stood over the table, viewing aerial photos that had been taken of the Dark Zone, she was the only one who dared to tell the Vicelord No. His peers advised against it. Their droids gave him the odds. But the alabaster woman placed her hands flat upon the table with a thud. The room cleared out as thunder rolled between Master and Apprentice. Logic flew from their lips in a dizzying duel of reasons. Srina attacked the political angle, the social angle, the angle of family. The "what ifs" went on for days it seemed.

Until finally, she crossed the room. She braved the frustration of her Master, placed a single hand flat upon his chest, and stared into his sulfuric glare.

We can't lose you. You're not going.

Her words were...a tsunami upon the wildfire of his frustrations. She was the only one, the only one among the stars who could tell Darth Metus what he was and was not going to do. But, the implications of her statement placed unease in his stomach. Reaching, he laid his hand over hers. "And I can't lose you. If anything goes awry..." his words were laced with surrender. Darth Metus would not go into the Dark Zone, she would in his place. "Go careful."

He should have never let her go.

Without the Voice of Reason at his side, there wasn't a soul present who could turn the Vicelord away. He was the first standing before the Iron Gates. His posture, tone, and demeaner screamed impatience - but those who knew him personally knew the real culprit was worry. He regretted letting her out of his sight. Regretted letting her dive into the mouth of Hell alone. He had not learned a damn thing from Tatooine it seemed - terrible things happened to the Echani when she left his side.

For this, the Sith wore a reimagination of his old beskar'gam. Different materials had been implemented, focusing more on repelling radiation and contamination over blaster bolts. But. He was still armored enough to be of use on the battlefield. A disruptor rested within his grasp, his lightsaber and several smaller ordnance upon his utility belt. As he waited, the systems within his helm began to kick on - diagnostics began to display within the top right corner of his HUD. Body temperature, contamination level, and so on. But even these valuable statistics fell by the wayside when the Iron Gates began to open.

Darth Metus trudged through the snow, flanked by the bravest souls of the Command Center. The finest droids. The finest Knights. The finest Mandragora. The finest Warriors. "What was their last known position?" he growled, addressing one of the lead scouts. "Due North. Down the main strip going into Downtown."

The Sith grit his teeth. Skyscrapers lined each side of the main road - perfect vantage points for anyone with a hold out blaster to pick off targets. They would be walking with their asses out the entire way. Quickest route, most likely, but the most dangerous. "This city got a subway?"

"Terminal not too far ahead. Lines are dead." Obviously. No one commutes during a plague.

"How close can those tunnels get us? Direct shot?"

"Hardly. The Melida and the Daan have territories drawn. This line only goes to the 'border' about Midway, gotta hoof if from there."

"Better than nothing." he breathed. "Form up! We're going underground!"

With his order barked to those present, the Vicelord began to crunch through the snow. The lead scout took it upon himself to broadcast a message across the public comm, imploring any survivors to make their way South to their position. Darth Metus left his own message too. He reached out through his Bond, the Force rippled across the distance to ferry his thoughts.

She would feel his worry. His impatience.

She would know that he was coming.

[member="Srina Talon"], [member="Noatyr Moldmerr"], [member="Kurenai Yumi"], [member="Scherezade deWinter"]


"Three for the price of one..."

Location: In the city
Objective: Explore the quarantined area and better understand the infection

Disease, such an oddity to the droid.

A crisis like this can sometimes feel even worse on the smaller scale. One could ask, 'why us?' when they see the rest of the world. Not to say that the crisis was completely localized. A city like this, a capital, losing that has ripples of chaos throughout the planet. Wide spread panic, economic downfall, political gridlock. This mission partly reminded him of the humanitarian work he did as part of the FWC. SYN sure was gonna miss that royal money he got when working for them.

He was currently separated from his companions. Alone in the abandoned streets. Trash littered the road and ally ways. One could say that our sanitation engineers are a modern societies first line of defense from social chaos. Cause normally when a place starts to look bad, people begin to act bad. A setting typically mirrors the people that live there. But if one is crafty, then can use it as a façade to hide things beneath the surface level.

Walking down the snow covered urban paths, SYN was marking, and looking scouting for hazardous areas. So far the droid's theory was that the dead were a path of transmission for the infection. This was because areas that were small, improvised mass graves seemed to concentrated and compromised with the disease. Another thing was that he noticed was that the bodies he did come across weren't that recent. This SYN believed added to and improved his theory in that the living were dealing with the dead. Moat likely through burning the bodies to help sterilize the environment. This meant that when SYN was gonna get back into civilization he was gonna need a good scrubbing down.

So that means from what they know that could lead to a fourth form of transmission. Adding onto airborne, waterborne, and through bodily fluids. This really was one hell of the disease. Another think that made SYN feel glad they were synthetic.

[member="Darth Metus"]
[member="Noatyr Moldmerr"]
[member="Srina Talon"]
[member="Kurenai Yumi"]
[member="Scherezade deWinter"]


Slowly the warning sound emanating from his HUD roused him to consciousness. Blinking eyes slowly the readings scrawling across his internal helm had him gasping. No broken bones. But the armor weave between his plate armor had been punctured. A few commands and his suit injected a coagulant, adrenaline, and narcotic shot which pierced the veins of his forearm beneath his gauntlets.

With clarity returning to him he glanced around the ship to see if anyone else had survived. That was when the problems were compounded even more. The rear passenger section of the ship, where he had been seated, was no longer connected to the remainder of the transport. His section was currently embedded within a building several hundred meters from the other half of the ship. As far as he could tell, the other passengers were KIA.

Grunting as he went back to his self diagnostic he felt the cold touch of fear grip his chest. A long piece of rebar had driven through his lower right side. Along the length of the metal spear, dark gore littered it's length. Biting back a curse he activated his vibrobade and sawed through the obstruction. After a minute he was free and released the straps of his crash webbing to fall to his knees. Gasping at the pain his breath paused, his heart stopped, as the readouts flickered upon his HUD.

Envirosuit breached.
Sealed systems contaminated.
Foreign antibodies detected in bloodstream.

He sagged back against the seat that had saved his life, and possibly taken it from him. Using the force he began looking within himself, hoping to find no trace of what his suit's systems had reported. But too soon he found traces of the virus quickly replicating and infecting his cells. Instead of destroying him as information shared with the Confederacy dictated, a symbiosis was occurring as the virus altered his cells, changing what they were into something new and completely different.

The cold chill of fear ran up his spine.


Well-Known Member

With: [member="Darth Metus"]

Father was worried.

I could feel it emanating from him as we marched through the snow. My own armor, a little thinner than his, gleamed in the snow as I walked beside the Sith, surrounded by his entourage of commanders and droids. Accompanying my old blaster pistol was an electro-staff on my back, my current weapon of choice. I had picked it hoping to brush up on my hand-to-hand combat, but as we neared our destination, I began to hope that I wouldn’t have to use it.

Our goal was [member="Srina Talon"].

Although I tried my best to smother it, there was an ever-present pang of envy for the Echani woman. She commanded father’s attention, his respect, everything that I wanted. She was older than me, more powerful, and wasn’t afraid to stand up to father like I often was. It wasn’t that I doubted father’s love for me, I didn’t… but between myself and Srina, the apprentice was worthier of it than I was. And if he was ever forced to choose between us, I feared he’d choose her. Hells, we were about to descend into the bowels of hell itself for her.

Yet… here I walked beside him.

Why? Not only because Father had brought me along. But, because even if I envied the apprentice, she drove me to better myself, to push harder, to go for longer, to be better. One day, perhaps I would be strong enough to challenge her, but until then she was my friend and ally, and right now she needed our help.

Pulled from my thoughts, I paused as father and one of the scouts spoke quietly.

Form up. We’re going underground.

I drew in a deep breath. My heart raced in my chest, sending blood pounding in my ears. I didn’t know exactly what awaited us, but I had to be ready for it. I glanced up to father as we resumed our march through the snow, our boots crunching the glittering white ground,

“Srina will be alright when he get there, won’t she?”
Can you see the darkness?

Wearing: Second from the Right (Silver)
Objective 1A: Going Underground with Dad and Hadashah
Tags: [member="Darth Metus"] [member="Hadashah Vi'dreya"] [member="SN-1411"]
Post: One


They had crashed, the suits and re-breathers had held. Anastasia had laid flat on her back, staring above in the snow until she had heard the sound of Dad's voice. Form up! We're going underground. The voice had been clear enough that Anastasia's legs shot up, giving herself to boost herself, upper body following as her feet moved, making her jump onto them, looking at the small team momentarily before she had begun to follow. Srina will be alright when we get there, won't she? Anastasia heard her sister's voice soon after.

Srina. Talon. The favored apprentice. Would she be fine? "If she is worthy of the position she holds," Anastasia responded to her flatly as her feet moved through the thick snow. If she's too weak, she's unworthy. She needn't survive, her mind continued on the unspoken. That was the influence of the monster at its best. She accepted nobody but the strongest and she willingly let the weakest die or killed them herself, family included. Anastasia wasn't capable of doing that, leaving family behind and yet the influence of her captor was present still in fragments of her mind just as he memories were. Eight hundred years of memories messed up into a small time frame of her life messed together with her own memories. Only a few memories stood out clearly and were obvious enough for Anastasia to be able to tell apart family from everyone else. Even when she knew they were unreal and given to her to mask the fact she was created a clone, Anastasia still held on to them for dear life as they conveyed an important message. Family is everything,

The snow was thick and heavy, making her movements harder yet Anastasia was nothing if not willful and defiant of obstacles. It was the strength Doashim recognized and the reason he had given her the tools to grow even stronger. She would survive this day too.
I'm too old for this
Objective: 1 (Try not to eat people)
Not Dead People: [member="Riggs"]
Post: 2

Kurenai placed her head against the rough broken duracret that lined the city streets, trying to recover with what little time was available, eyes continuing to scan around the crash sight, one by one more people becoming present. One such person becoming known at the sound of a few unflattering swear words... nothing new there.

Turing over her gaze fell upon [member="Scherezade deWinter"] stagger out of the crash, several knifes jutting out of her arm, blood running along the woman's outfit, herself seeming to have overhead her comment on being karked. Then again not like there was any other sound to drown out Kureani's words, the entire city being dead silent, a ghost town, dead zone, no sign of life, not even automated, just the small pitter patter of rocks falling from the ship crash and the few survivors.

"Karcked... screw... "Omae Wa Mou Shindeiru", what ever takes your fancy... princess", Kurenai replied, breath short and the attempt at humor probably sounding more like sarcasm then anything else, but she was right. Even with the use of breath control they would not last forever, and every second that her stab wound was exposed for the higher the chance she would become infected. With immense discomfort, a tail of blood still trickling down her waist Kurenai pushed herself off the sounds, slowly walking over to Schezeda, but not before turning to the ginger haired boy.

"I am not sure what you will find while scouting, best chance would be some sort of medical structure that may still have safe area, medication and extra re-breathers... though I would rather we stay together, who knows what 'things' may be out there". The unnatural mutation of those that did not die to this pathogen being the most present danger, she could only hope those beasts did no catch wind of the drop ship crash. First things first before they move, to check for survivors, something Schezeda was already getting to work with, well more giving order but that was splitting hairs.

"You want injured people around me? probably no a good idea, I'll help where I can just give me a minute to... recover, yer that", not like she could just say she was a vampire and could take a 50 cal and walk away, but force healing was not a skill she knew yet. 'No, this is not the time to try and cover up my powers, we may all die here, I need to be tip top shape, if people find out so be it'. Before she could continue the conversion a static-ed haze came through her com link, the sound being broken and hard to hear but she managed to link the sound to a person, Srina Talon, her voice and force signature not becoming apparent to Kurenai.

"Reading you Talon, [member="Noatyr Moldmerr"], I assume you are going to pick her up? if so keep an eye out for anyone else among the broken part, and call for help if you need it". Turning off the com link she turned back to Schezeda, "okay lets get down to business, my wound seem all healed now, but what about your? is there any bacta nearby to seal those cuts on your arms"? For all she knew the virus had already infected them all, but it would be beneficial to seal the wound now rather then later, no doubt there was more then one pathogen going around.

Location: Crash site
Wearing: Boots, Cape,
Wielding: 12 Czerka Knives, 6 Glitter Bullets
Objective: Survive
Tags: [member="Kurenai Yumi"] [member="Noatyr Moldmerr"] [member="Riggs"] [member="Srina Talon"]
Post: 2

"I mentioned scouting for immediate danger, not scouting for help," Scherezade retorted at the woman who apparently enjoyed cursing a whole lot more than she did. She was taking mental notes as she added a few words to her ever growing vocabulary.

Turning around, she stared at the crash site. She could already spot a few bodies, dead and broken. Those who had not survived. With a flick of the wrist, she used the Force to toss them aside, pile them all up together, making sure they weren't in the way of those who still had a chance, while the woman behind her kept talking.

Her comlink made some noise. The young Sithling ignored it; there were more than enough people who responded to the call. She'd take care of everyone she could, but there was no reason for redundant actions. [member="Noatyr Moldmerr"] had offered to go scout. She didn't know the kid, but she sincerely hoped he'd be less useless than she was on her first time out. It'd be a shame to nearly lose someone so young to a zombie, or whatever else would be lurking on this stupid planet.

Scherezade sighed and turned back to [member="Kurenai Yumi"], who had asked her about bacta. "Nope, nothing," she replied, "it's okay though. Just blood. Need less of it than you'd think."

With a sigh, she scanned the horizon, cursing internally at all the nope. Closing her eyes, the Sith Apprentice let her Presence flow forth through the Force, both announcing her being alive and sort of well, and checking for signs of life. She passed over a few more dead bodies and then-

"There's someone injured in that direction," she pointed, "are you well enough to come with me? His distress feels... Like we may need to put him down." She still did not know that she was referring to [member="Riggs"]. If she'd know, she'd been happier - after all, a good Mando was a dead Mando, regardless of circumstance.

Darth Rixas

Unto the Knife

Objective: Get back to [member="Darth Metus"] and crew.

The piercing crunch of snow, hard dirt, and frozen poodoo being crushed under the boots of Rixas could be heard from blocks away as he moved down one of the many quiet streets of the Walled City. The fluidity and speed of his gait was born of both urgency and an unnerving sense of anxiety. His expedition into the subway system proved fruitless in his search for answers and the odd quietness of the city after the sun went down spoke more to the location's depravity and bad shape, rather than regular people attempting to rest for the next day's work. There were niggling hints of danger all around him, tugging at his peace of mind like an infant to a toy. Unwilling to let go of the teddy bear until the guardian gave in to it's cry.

His scarce apparel did little to keep the chilling embrace of the cold at bay. Light armor and dark clothing did the job of covering his being, and his head was bare, save for a rebreather strapped to his grill. His willpower combined with slight aid of the Force kept him comfortable in the brazen weather, however. The once shiny, glistening, golden plates of his armor were now dull, dingy, and covered in grime. Some of it was from dirty snow melting upon him and other spots were from where he'd fallen. From a distance it looked more bronze than anything else. But that didn't stop strangers from looking upon his form as if he'd had something to take and sell.

Rixas casually glanced over his shoulder, a movement made to feign admiring something on the ground behind him, rather than actually catching the glimpse of men following in his wake- whom attempted to step into the darkness when his gaze went in their direction. The Sith Lord didn't pity them, but he did understand their plight. Only the wealthiest occupants of the city would still have enough food to sell at this point, and it appeared they'd only get richer during this plight. Some things just couldn't be stopped- Supply and demand, as well as capitalism, being some of them. Regardless of the times though, a stranger walking the city in what looked like rare, foreign armor, would sell nicely for virtually anyone who could somehow get their hands on it.

When his follower's footsteps neared his proximity closely enough, Rixas stopped walking. He turned to his would-be assailants, amber eyes looking over the three men. They were impoverished, small, frail, dirty. Desperate. The one in the middle decided to speak first, stopping a mere 10 feet in front of the stranger.

"Heh...Heh." What had to be forced laughter left the mans mouth. Whether the reason the laugh was broken was because of nervousness or anticipation was yet undecided by Rixas. "You're a long way from home stranger."

A long, tired sigh left the Sith Lord as he lowered his head in thought. He'd come along with his brother and the CIS in order to help these people, but it would seem as though he'd do as much harm as he would do good. A trend not unlike him, although he rarely controlled the circumstances the situations were birthed from. He knew they could not be reasoned with. Talking them out of a committed action like this would be a waste of breath and exposing his lightsaber would not scare them away. Rixas knew these types of people all too well, for he was just like them long long ago. Before he found himself.

He lifted his head with furrowed brows and tight lips as he silenced his thoughts and made his decision. It wasn't a hard one. Killing someone usually never is for him, but the time wasted doing so...That is what bothered him the most.

"Well stranger?" The man said again, raising his scratchy- mucus filled voice. "Time's up."

Rixas moved a hand to his waist, pulling a blade free of it's sheath. Raising his chin as he spoke, he said-

"So be it."
The Mother of All Psy-Pires
Objective: Survive.

Tags: [member="Kurenai Yumi"], [member="Scherezade deWinter"], [member="Noatyr Moldmerr"], [member="Srina Talon"].

There was bitter irony in this current situation for the relatively new obsidian knight.

She had always been resistant to illness. In childhood, her getting sick was so rare it was actually shocking for her parents when it did occur.

She had always believed it to be a blessing in her youth. One of the Force's gifts. These days, she wondered whether her insanely strong immune system hadn't been the Force's idea of setting up a joke with a malicious punchline. It had proven so strong the energy vampire disease had not been able to mutate her even the second time going, even with direct infection by Sawa personally.

That resistance had only increased after the mutation. Strangely, this pissed her off for some reason when she had studied her blood. She had hit samples of it with STD's. Nothing. Her white cells had practically taken a club to the invaders, violently breaking them down milliseconds after introduction. Next had come more serious ones. But her white cells were like swarm of piranhas. Even military stuff had barely given them pause. But then at great expense she had surreptiously acquired Vong Pathogens. Only then had her white cells been given a fight.

It was only natural that someone so heavily resistant to disease would naturally be willing to go into The Dark Zone. Not just to try and help out of belated guilt over her diet, but to prove to her new...benefactors...that she was no shrinking violet. That she would take the dirty assignments. She'd already used up her previous lives. There was no point in holding out or holding back when the last one was just as fragile as all the others.

Besides, who would mourn the death of a tick, anyway?

She had entered the Dark Zone via ship, but something had brought it down. Crash webbing had kept her safe. Barely.

She had woken, still in her seat, but covered by a large pile of debris. Much of the section around her was damaged but her swords and robes were intact. She wasn't hurt...most simple wounds would have cleared up while she was out cold. Still, a piece of rebar was stuck right under her right arm, having just barely missed the robes and torso. A few inches to the right and she wouldn't have been quite so lucky.

The tall woman, six and a half feet in height, ripped the safety harness off, stood in her green robes, the ancient embroidered images of roses and sunflowers in white glimmering a little in the dark.

Using her height and legs to her advantage, she pushed the wreckage off with all her might, silently rising after the grunt of exertion, grabbing her swords and fastening them to the side of her ceremonial hooded Kimono, her face obscured as often as possible, mostly out of shame, but partly to avoid easy identification on camera. The two bright dots of purple light from the center of slightly translucent obsidian eyes were the only things of an otherwise lovely face that could easily be seen. With the silence of a ghost, she lifted herself out of the seat, noticed a dead knight obsidian still clutching his lightsaber. She almost started to reach for it but resisted the impulse. She was enough scavenger as it was. And she was no longer worthy of holding one in any case, knight or not.

She did here the crackle of [member="Srina Talon"]'s voice on her own comlink, tried to respond, only to find it was damaged. She didn't throw it away, she knew these types of electronics. She'd just need time with it--

Her Force Senses caught wind of more life in her immediate area, hands instinctively went into that hateful clawed gesture as her body registered potential prey. Succulent prey. She forced her hands back down. She had eaten already. Topped herself off with a violent attack on something called a knight of ren. She didn't know what that title meant. So many of the really weird ones had gotten a foothold and everything about this era was chaos anyway. Trying to keep track of every new cult would make for quite the stress factor. Oh, well, at least she could still take out her aggression on Vampires, at least the ones she knew were not working for the Confederacy. Strange bedfellows indeed. She took note of the Dark Zone, and could never recall seeing anything like this except some tomb worlds. She kept her hand on her Katana, slim olive hands gliding over its hilt, poking out of the robes. The city might as well have been an open air coffin, the putrification available to stare at.

She followed the sounds of life, of speaking in a dead city. It was easy, the place was almost as quiet as her.

Coming across the other survivors on their own piece of crash sight, Nine Lives glided to them, her legs movement concealed by the robes, making look like she was floating towards them. The fact her arms never left her side, yet fingers constantly clenching and flexing out of sheer biological habit. She caught sight of Kurenai healing her wounds, sensed something about her, something that did not mesh. She ignored it. There was too much going on with Nine herself.

"Do not be alarmed." She said in her typical deep voice quietly, not wanting her voice to travel too far, robes shifting from a small gust of wind. She had been a last minute addition, and had not had time to introduce herself, mostly keeping silent during the briefing and shuttle ride.

"Have any of you spotted any of the infected yet? How badly are you all hurt?"

Nine then turned slowly as she heard some strange wail echo through the streets.

"I think they know about us." she stated bluntly.

OOC: Nine just joined the Confederacy so I decided to add her instead of Maple to the dominion thread. If admins has any objections to this for any reason, let me know. Otherwise, PAAAARRRTAAAYY!

Noatyr Moldmerr

Neutralish Warrior

Location: Crash Site

People Who Aren't Eating Him Alive: [member="Kurenai Yumi"], [member="Nine Lives"], [member="Scherezade deWinter"], [member="Srina Talon"]

It figured. He was seen as the child once more. Why was it he constantly felt like he had to show everyone that he was more then just his age? Maybe he shouldn't have looked to much into it, but once he saw that look in their eyes, he was set to prove it.

He mentally scolded himself, for he had begun thinking like a child, and this really wasn't the time. He had a job to do, and possibly another survivor to help out. He just hoped she was still alive by the time he found her.

In that moment his senses tingled, and he took a glance behind to his left, spotting another swiftly approaching, one wearing long robes that seemed to hide her legs from view, making appear like she was simply floating towards them. He now realized he could have been using the damn force to find other survivors instead of just picking his way through the damn wreckage. Well, he felt stupid now. Now that he was actually focused though, he could sense the force surrounding not just her, but also from the others as well.

Although the brown haired one was being rather open about it, not to mention emanated dark side, the dark haired one seemed to be trying to hide the fact. Heh, maybe he and she were more alike then he had first thought. Rather interesting.

Turning his attention back to the approaching robed woman, he offered her a smile with nothing but his eyes.​''I'll live, you might want to check on those two though.''​ He took a slight glance at his own wounds, noted to bandage them on the way, and then without another word began to follow the source of the transmission.

He let his senses go free a bit, hunting down the woman who had sent out the call.

He had heard the echoing shriek, and the sense of dread and death it sent through his body, but he chose not to address it, not until he knew that it was after him, for now, he remained focused on his objective.

He was already halfway down the street, and he took a moment to quickly scavenge through the building he had noticed earlier, taking a few rolls of bandages leftover, and pocketing them, while also haphazardly wrapping up his own gash.

​''Time is of the bloody essence, better pick up my pace.''

He began to lightly jog down the empty streets, one hand on his side, keeping pressure on his wrapped wound, while the other kept a firm grasp on the handle of his weapon, ready to draw at the slightest hint of danger.

​''This reminds me of running down the streets as a child when the verge of...bad memory, no, more pleasant ones needed... for one, there's a lot of women here. Wait no, still bad damn it. Nevermind, just focus on tracking down the woman over the transmitter.''​ His thoughts were a bit random, but he remained on course.

Another wailing cry split through the silence of the dead city, and he slowed for a moment, chilled by how alien the noise was to him. He had been to many places, seen and heard many things, but nothing like that.

Something that sounded like it had once been something, but no longer.

​''I hate this city...''​ He muttered aloud.

SHE had decided that she was going to volunteer for a rescue. It was not the wisest thing to do, but the girl could never stay in one place for too long it seemed. Gerwald had insisted that she not go since it seemed this was not a mission the Mandragora were interested in. If [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] was not going, then [member="Scherezade deWinter"] did not need to go. It had been petty and childish, but Gerwald's only motivation had been that he did not want to lose one of the only two people he had gotten close to since leaving Stewjon. Outside of the Knights Obsidian the only world Ger knew was the one that revolved around to the women he had run through the woods with on Dragonflower.

Gerwald had gotten word the drop ship had crashed. That was all he needed to hear to be set off into full search and rescue mode. The problem was toxic air. Toxic air meant he could not transform at all for this mission. If that was the case, then the armor and rebreather everyone else was being outfitted with for this mission seemed to make sense. He would rush in to save the entire team alone if could, but if he could only save one, the Lupine was going to be selfish. He would always be selfish where Kat and Scherezade were concerned.

The command came. They were going underground.

Gerwald mixed in with the company made up of mostly Vi'dreyas. This would be interesting. Some of the faces were familiar to him as being among the Knights Obsidian. This would be a chance to get to know some of them perhaps. It was a thing he wanted to do, get to know more of the people that were in his world. Perhaps they just needed another night of drinking.

[member="Darth Rixas"] [member="Anastasia Vi'dreya"] [member="Hadashah Vi'dreya"] [member="SN-1411"] [member="Darth Metus"]

Srina will be alright when we get there, won't she?

The man who had come to know the alabaster woman wanted to respond in the positive. Darth Metus had been a witness to the might and potential of [member="Srina Talon"] many times over; and his confidence in her was no secret. He sent her across the stars in his place - and always had the comfort of knowing she would return to him. But this time, there was a monster in the pit of his stomach...doubt. It was not her strength that he was worried about...but rather the disease which was all around them.

He once thought his brother, Rigard, was strong enough to weather any storm. But when it came to a certain Plague, he fell. Darth Metus would not make that mistake again.

Before the Sith could answer the inquiry of his young daughter, his eldest chimed in. Her tone was low and devoid of mirth. But, there was certainly truth to be found in each word. As Darth Metus stopped before the mouth of the subway's entrance, he looked over his shoulder. "If our roles were reversed, I couldn't say if I'd be fine out there. She's strong, but this is...a different enemy."

And I won't lose her to this. The resolve of his thoughts saw Darth Metus descend into the mouth of Hell. Darkness quickly enveloped the team, causing the lights upon his helm to kick on. The columns of white swept across the abandoned terminal as his boots left the final stair, assessing what laid before. Thus far...nothing. Save death. At a glance, the scene told the story of homeless souls who came to escape the chill of winter. But, what they found was death.

Carcasses, huddled together for warmth, lined either side of the wall. Yes...Carcass was the only word apt enough to describe the disfigured forms that met his sulfuric gaze. It seemed as though all moisture had been robbed from their flesh. All elasticity robbed from their skin. Husks. Darth Metus tightened his grip upon his rifle. "Check filters." he warned before stepping past. The sole obstacle ahead was a series of turnstiles. Before the outbreak, these would have been bustling at this hour.

Now, the Vicelord's team was vaulting over them like teenagers in the night.

Upon getting to the other side, sound reached his ears. Voices. And to match it...a light chime sounded within his helm. Proximity sensors picked up the IFF of [member="Darth Rixas"]' armor and alerted his elder sibling to his presence. What the Sith couldn't see were the men he was facing off against. Yet, the filth that had survived the outbreak was not only a handful in number. As the blade was drawn, a sound of metal scraping over tile filled the corridor.

"Southside's clear, bodies are all roaste-" began the newcomer. Rixas would see him first - a towering man adorned with dangerously volatile tanks. A haphazardly built nozzle and hose rested within his hands. And, before another would could be spoken, the makeshift flamethrower was directed at the Lord of Strife. A column of flame belched forth from the weapon, lurching across the corridor to consume the pair. In the calamity, there was no such thing as friendly fire.

But the light alone caused something to stir.

From the tracks. Gnarled fingertips pulled up broken forms. Dry shrieks filled the air. The Confederates would arrive just in time to be the main course for the Infected. As Rixas finally came into the Sith's view, the descecrated bodies would begin to pour into the hall from the tracks. The fire would deter them for only a moment before some dove right through!

Metus raised his disruptor and fired.

The Plague was upon them.

[member="Darth Rixas"], [member="Anastasia Vi'dreya"], [member="Hadashah Vi'dreya"], [member="Gerwald Lechner"], [member=S.Y.N.]
I'm too old for this

Objective: 1 (Try not to eat people)
Not Dead People: [member="Riggs"]
Post: 3

Less blood then needed? odd saying but she would not pry, there being many more dangers to look out for then someone feeling a little light headed. Bending down Kurenai pattered herself over, stretching a little before giving a rather 'I'm a bad ass' neck crack, fully getting over the whole 'stabbed by rebarb' incident a few moments ago, her leg and broken rib now fixed as if nothing happened.

"Yeah I'm fine, and I feel that signature, does that mean we have to put someone down"? thankfully her vampire blood gave quite the resistance to illness and the virus had not seem to taken hold on her body. Even if it did the use of 'art of small' could be brought into play, a skill useful for more then changing hair colour and melting through doors. Before either could move though another new presence greeted them, one that made a small shiver run up Kurenai's spin, her eyes slowly wandering over to Atrisian looking woman.

She was wearing a kimono, quite a nice one, but the circumstance seemed very off for such attire, but more than that was the over all complexion, unharmed by the crash, as tall as Kurenai herself but less well built, but that was only the start. Why? because this woman, [member="Nine Lives"] could potentially be dangerous, even more so if she found out the family connection, her great grandmother Sawa Ike having history with this woman. "I am fine, wounds do not last long at me, I see you are find as well, must be some strong fabric".

Though the full story was unknown it would be best to keep things silent until the group was out of this mess, one that suddenly became more dangerous as a echoing screech sounded through the dead streets. Grasping her lightsaber hilt she turned towards the sound of the cry, the same direction [member="Noatyr Moldmerr"] went to scout, "we may not be able to swing a sword at the pathogens it's self I have a feeling we can at whatever that is". "I'll help with keeping watch, hopefully we can redirect them instead of out right fighting", she replied keeping a close gaze in the distance the veteran mercenary stalked over to were the young orange haired boy had gone, staying close to the ground.

Karlie Lynn Destat

Conspiracy Theorist and Investigator (IBI)

Objective: Aquire various blood samples per sickness stage
Gear and personnel: 40 Castan marines , 4 scientists, all in enviro-suits (YEA BABY, 40 freakin marines...Ha!)
Enviro suit: EVS-1
Post: 1


The transport from Castagne dropped out of hyperspace and headed planet side.
This one carried no doctors, no rescue team, nor any humanitarian aid. On the contrary, it was a team of Castan Marines escorting Agent Lynn of the IBI. Her mission was to retrieve prime samples of the virus which had been reported to inflict the system.

This virus had caught the interest of the IBI as it could of been formulated or designed as a biological weapon. As such, Karlie herself, an expert in viral research was spearheading the team. The Castan Marines were there for the team's

The enviro-suits weren't much different than open space suits. Only they were designed for prolonged filtration of atmospheric gases and pathogens. Karlie's main objective was to acquire blood samples of non-infected, infected, ill, terminally ill and deceased individuals. There was no intention of bringing back any survivors, infected or not. This was for all intent and purposes a military research mission.

"Two minutes to landfall.." came the announcement. "...everyone secure their suits."

Karlie had already zippered up and running her suit's diagnostics. Her compact sampler case was next to her and she would strap it over her back once they got on the ground.
The transport craft had two hermetically sealed chambers. One for the passengers and Marines and the other for the pilots. The pilots would remain on the ground inside the transport, while the team and marines were to go forth and gather their samples...from volunteers...or by force. They had been given 4 hours to accomplish their mission before taking off. "Hmm...not much time for sight seeing..." She snickered to herself.

"One minute to landfall.." It was just now clearing the upper stratosphere from their entry.

Karlie looked out of the port side below to what should have been a well lit city scape. only it wasn't as lit with lights as it was with fires. Pockets of fires burned about and below them as the craft came flying over the city.

"There...the arena looks like a good spot to put it down. Miss Lynn?"

"Huh?.." She had been looking at the city portions that were burning below that they passed.
"Oh..uhm...yea, anywhere is fine. I'm sure we'll net what we came for..." She replied, realizing the city was in chaos for the most part. With that, she checked her side arm. It was a good feeling having a trusty blaster by her side, despite a squad of Jarheads.

"Alright...everyone out..GO GO GO!" Shouted the squad leader.
Karlie knew enough to stay seated as the group all hyped up stormed out of the craft. No way was she going to gring between these boys/girls.

"Karlie, you ready?" her assistant who was part of the research team nudged her.
"Yea..sure...ready as I'll ever be." She replied, making a slight adjustment to her comm. She had set it a bit low, expecting what had just taken place, the jar-heads squad leader shouting orders.

Sure enough, once Karlie stepped out of the craft, she had to roll her eyes, as the marines were in perimeter secure mode. They had their weapons out and aimed at various points.
"Perimeter team, commence forth behind the lines. Science team, stay within the squad...everyone...LETS MOVE!"

As thus the entire squad started to move as one unit-

"Hold it!.." Karlie shouted.

"Agent Lynn...what's your status!?" The squad leader immediately came over to her to check for himself what was wrong.

"Whoa!..whoa...back it up a moment,Sargent." Karlie put up her hands gesturing for him to slow it down, for him to take a step back.

"..mam?" He was confused. She kind of figured he would be.

"Look,'s Stent, right?" She looked over to his name on his military enviro-suit.

"4 hours.... four hours to collect a few blood samples from a few unlucky folk here. Folk that for the most part are not in a war zone, but in a hell hole. As thus, they aren't in a mindset of aggression but rather one of fear and desperation.And from what I have seen so far from overhead, seems they are not in any fashion organized, but just looting. I think I can handle a few civilians on a wild shopping spree."

"Mam, there is a situation-" The Sargent started to say before she cut him off.

"Stent, I am aware of the situation. the situation is that these people are fraked. Now you and your jarheads can play marines all you want, but I'm not having an entire squad on my tail this whole entire time. So get your freakin men..and girls.." Karlie looked over the bunch, not sure which were women at this point or how many there were if any, but her point was being made.

" ...back in the shuttle and just give me say...uhm....3 marines. NOT including you, Sargent."

"But orders-"

"Your orders are to follow my orders...and you are currently arguing with a superior, Sargent. Now we going to waste time here arguing or are you going to follow what you've been instructed?"

"4 marines...can't let your team go one short, mam..." he was meaning there were 4 in the science team and he wanted to at least have one marine assigned to each of them.

"Sigh...fine. 4 marines.
Men preferably. "

Stent whistled through his comm and with a few hand signals, 4 marines stepped up, locked and loaded.

"Ok....... yea, thank you Sargent." She replied, nodding. Yup, three jar-heads as ordered. Well, she did need someone to watch her back.

"Alright, YOU.." she gestured to her chosen marine. " You're with me. Now lets move. er..anyone know the exit out of this arena?" Ok, so she didn't have yet a clear direction in mind.

"...mam..2 o'clock."

"Hah...." She eyed it. "Yea...ok, lets move." and she took to leading with her team and small detachment of marine escorts.

"Stent... keep the engines running. This mission's a piece of cake, bud.." Karlie relayed confidently as she lead her micro team toward the arena's exit.

VAROOOOOOOM>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>the sound of an unidentified ship...seemingly burning overhead as it appeared over the arena caught eveyone's attention. And for whatever reason (obviously the burning part hadn't come into Karlie's equation yet) it was coming down at an alarming speed. "What the-..?!"

!!!! CRASH !!!>>>> >>>>>>KAPOW!!! it tumbled and flipped over right on their own transport!
...and unfortunately the marines she had ordered to stay with it...
"Oh FRACK ME!" were her last words before the shockwave hit her team near the arena's exit....

!!! BOOM !!! put the micro team on their butts. Karlie ahead of her team got body slammed by her very own marine escort to the ground.....