Invasion Darkness Falls // NIO Invasion of TSE held Bastion

[Zori Kapshan]

\\ S P A C E
\\ N I V \ \ O P U L E N C E
\ \ S U P P O R T I N G: 7th Fleet

K Y B E R
D A R K​

The NIV Opulence, a hospital ship, a forge ship, a mad scientist's ship, settled in 7th fleet.

They hadn't seen much action, sanctioned away in the well defended parts of the fleet and far enough away from the planet to avoid most of the fighting. Still, the ship's various reactors were still devoted to it's shields at maximum power, with several frigates and destroyers serving as the backline's defenses for the ship. The Opulence was a high value asset for the Imperials, regardless if the enemy knew it or not - mainly now, for it's most obvious mission.

To support, and save, lives.

Victims of the war were being driven onboard in droves. Nearly every bed on the hospital ship was already taken. Refugees from the planet were being housed, in nearly every space that a human could fit onboard the ship. Shuttles were constantly coming and going from the hospital ship, treating both friend and foe alike. Moff Kapshan, high leather boots stepping over various individuals sprawled out in the hallways of the ship, was accompanied by
his medical droid as he made his way through the ship and towards the med bays.

"How many do we have?" He asked, looking through his holotablet while walking and flipping through screens.

"17," the Medical Droid responded.

They stopped in the hallway, in front of one of the infirmaries. "Well, here we are." The medical droid nodded, and Moff Kapshan entered the room. Several stormtroopers stood stoic guard at various posts within the room, and on cots and beds lay several individuals of nondescript appearance. They seemed ravaged by the war - this was a dark room, a dreary atmosphere of the sick and injured. A few coughs from the inhabitants broke through the silence, and a few inhabitants rolled over in their beds as the light from the hallway broke through. Zori's eyes met with the glazed helmet of the nearest Stormtrooper, nodded, and began to close the door to the room.

"Kyber dark," the Moff uttered, closing the door shut.

The stormtroopers nodded, the lights shutting off to the room, raising their blasters.

Blast sounds were heard as the Moff continued down the hall.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: I'll Be Good //:
//: For all the times, I never could //:
//: Transport back to Alliance Space //:
//: Loske Treicolt //:

Feeling Loske draw closer, Allyson prepared herself. Coming so close to death so many times before this, the Corellian assumed she would be fully prepared to die. To finally have that moment when she could rest when she didn't have to worry about the world around her and watch people that she cared for die. Allyson thought she could look death in the face and embrace it, wanting to finally be taken from this galaxy. Yet, feeling Loske this close, staring at her executioner - her hand trembled, and her lip quivered. ​

Allyson Locke wasn't ready to die, despite her claims. ​

Her mind wandered, not wanting to be in this place anymore. Memories spun, and she found herself some sort of happiness. The battlefield, her bloody hands, and the blonde's face were the things she wanted to avoid seeing as her last moment. She waited, but nothing happened. Her memories faded, and she stared up, feeling the tears fall from the Kiffar's face. The pain disappeared for a moment as she focused on the other woman. Why was she crying? Allyson didn't understand. She had thought Loske would have taken the chance to end all of this. ​

No. ​

Allyson realized she understood, she knew Loske and deep down knew the woman was her redemption. The things she put her through weren't fair, and Allyson knew it. She hated herself because out of everyone in this galaxy - Loske was good. Never before had Allyson met someone as pure of heart, unrelenting in her love for her friends, and she never gave up - even in the face of someone who didn't want to be saved. The Corellian stared and listened, she understood what Jyoti was telling her, and she finally understood Loske. ​

A bloody hand reached up, and to avoid staining the clone's angelic features, Allyson used the back of her hand to wipe the tears of her friend. Her honest and pure friend had saved her life in more ways than she could have possibly realized. She desired honesty, and Allyson knew she owed it to her, but in the moments leading up to this - Allyson had been the most honest she had been in a long while. The Force washed over her. She tried her best to use the force body's power to help ease her own pain as the bacta worked against her wound. Her voice weak from blood loss, but she spoke to the woman. ​

"Its the truth." She stared, "I'm sorry. I pushed you away - I couldn't keep up the lies to you." It was true, Allyson knew that if Loske got too close, she wouldn't have been able to keep the lies. A part of the spy wanted her friend to learn, understand, and not hate her. She was scared, knowing that she was heading back to Alliance space. She had very little evidence to support her claim, and she wondered if maybe Loske killing her here would have been the mercy she didn't deserve. The bond between them would resonate, showing her true feelings. "Thank you for not giving up on me - even when I gave up on myself." ​

The voice of another broke into the moment, and Allyson glanced towards him. She realized what was happening next, and she exhaled softly, trying not to give in to her fear. She couldn't run away anymore. Her mission was over. Guilt weighed on her heart, knowing everything that she had sacrificed for this mission, and she couldn't finish it, failing at the finish line. Her mind pushed the thoughts away and focused on the Force body, keeping her together as they moved her to the transport. Safely loaded on and the medics taking over, she felt something clamp onto her. ​

The Force faded, and every fiber of her skin seared with pain as it coursed through her. The Force suppressant restraints blocked her from using the Jedi power. Instead, the medic looking over her quickly shot a drug into her arm. Green orbs focused on Loske as the haze of sleep clouded them, lids heavy, fell, and Allyson Locke was on her way home.​

 

[Ra's]

Sorry but our fight is over DK-03

Location: Near Fortress Carnifex

As soon as the Trooper blasted his own Sith ally head and striked down from behind several others from the NIO the Kaleesh understood more or less what was happening. And the reaction from the rest of the NIO forces who started to atteck the few traitors Sith close to them confirmed Ra's doubt. Without hesitation the Kaleesh rip off his electro-bisento from DK-03 chest while he kick him against a wall and then proceed to get away from this place, deflecting the blast which were following him with his weapon. He was heading back to the Fortress, this is their best opportunity to turn the tides once and for all.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Imperial Capital Complex.
Tags: Ra Vizsla

Spoiler

Armour / Sabres / Wrist / Tsaisibola / Vibroknife

Royalty - Darth Ophidia was nothing of the like.

Rattatak had left her nothing but her wits and her will to live by any means she could; the life of a thief, a murderer, a mercenary. It had brought her up hard, and the Sith had used that hardness.

She had been called the queen of shadows by other lords of the Sith, but it was a title she had accepted for its irony.

Every precious metal and incredible object she carried was earned or crafted through her arduous work and dedication to the Sith. Every neat trick came from lessons learned when her life, or more importantly, the mission, hung in the balance. She pulled no punches because she could not afford to fail.

Royalty were given all they were, Ophidia had carved herself out of a crude mould with the tools she had wrested from the hands of other Sith and tempered in war against their enemies.

Her enemies.

She saw the darksaber fizzle out on contact with her guard. It was the first step toward dismantling the mandalorian’s defenses. However, her opponent was exceedingly crafty and exceedingly angry.

His arms quickly wrapped around hers as he slipped past the range of her sabres. She tried to pull back, but felt his arms tighten around hers. Ra’s helmet came roaring down to meet hers, and her head was knocked back by the blow. The shell kept her safe, but she felt the force behind it. The second one, she met head on, cancelling some of the force with her own. It still rattled her, a tooth came loose in her mouth, but she kept her wits around her.

For the third, she twisted, slipping one of her elbows out of his grip and knocking his headbutt aside to land on her shoulder instead. It hurt, but less. The pain was building up. She tried to pull her sabre out from under his grip, twisting and angling the guard so she might be able to run the plasmic blade up against the thinner part of his armour and burn him.

“You are nothing then.”

His last headbutt landed, but she was prepared this time, able to set her body like a pillar against him and planting the power down into the ground beneath her.

“All things end; as will you”

He disengaged from her, and she threw a quick glance to the soldiers as they changed their disposition toward her. He pulled back, they closed in. It was not a fair fight, and they all knew it. Ophidia sneered inside her helmet.

She held her sabres out to her sides and closed her eyes as she leaned into the Force, they were not optimised for this. This was not the battleground she thought she would die on. Could she do it one more time, that slippery escape? Doubtful, but perhaps she would have to.

“Kyber dark”

The Force surged, plunged into darkness, Ophidia could feel it flowing through her, empowering her, but would it be enough?

"We shall meet again." "One way or another."

The volley was fired, and Ophidia rolled to the side to avoid, while her sabres caught and sent away or entirely vapourised shots that would have hit her, then instantly carving through three bodies with a sweeping motion. Ophidia felt something rake across her upper arm She made sure they were close enough that she could absorb their energy through her blades, but they were about to corner her.

Ophidia closed her eyes and rolled that loose tooth around in her mouth, then bit down on it. It broke under the pressure and a liquid spilled out, slipping down her throat. She moved again, desperately trying to mitigate the worst of their attack, using other stormtroopers as human shields. Her foot slipped under the tsaisibola and let it wrap around her foot, from whence it continued to lash out against those who would have her killed.

More of their attacks slipped through as the wounds slowed her down. The force pulsed all around her, feeding her the chaos of a world thrown into a second stage of chaos.

In her mind, she felt the lesson she had always taught: Success or death.

Now, Maica Pec felt the call of the Codex Umbra.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Bastion: Fortress Carnifex
Tag: Vaulkhar

Spoiler

Lightsabre pike, Zaudraka, Jin’wodasir x2, Imperator’s Raiment, SIF-7 Minos, Dwomotchwûq

They met, his hands reached up to touch her shoulder. Her shoulders, like most of her body, were wrought in the same black plates of phrik, overlapping snugly to provide as effective a defence as possible. The pauldrons were wrought with ridges that pulled out from her chest into fine points, both serving to redirect thrusts and add to the jagged aesthetic of the raiment. Her right hand went to almost instinctively brush Vaulkhar’s hand away, but instead, she simply placed her hand on his.

This response most epicanthix knew: Reciprocation.

"He is in the fortress."

She heard his hand squeezing her shoulder, though the phrik plates did not budge beneath his grasp. Behind her sounded the ringing of the spear shaft clattering to the ground, clear as a bell.

“Now is the time.”

Her hand tightened on his as well, reassuring.

"They lie to you-" Somewhere on the side of her army, the speaker that sprouted propaganda burst into sparks and fire as the Major shot it with a particle blaster.

“If only, brother-”

Having detached the head of her spear with a subtle motion and let the shaft fall, she held the lightsabre hilt in her hand. It activated in a flash, going straight into a thrust at her brother’s inner thigh, then sweeping out as she let her left foot slide back behind her.

“-anyone actually cared about you.”

There was only one member of their family she truly cared about, and it was neither their father nor their brother. Only Evaelyn, only the one with whom she had shared a womb.

From above her right shoulder, the sniper she had ordered placed before their conversation had gotten the signal hidden in her words. As she moved her back foot, they took the shot, aimed squarely for one of his armour plates. Their powerful sniper rifle was not expected to penetrate, just hit and concuss to aid the Princess in her assault.

The world surged suddenly with the disturbance caused by Tavlar's kyber dark. Mass confusion, a surge of death, pain, anger, these things fed those who delved into the dark side of the Force. Joycelyn smiled, she had not foreseen this surge, but it played into her hands almost perfectly. If the shot caused his soldiers to attack, that just meant more chaos, more death, more fodder for the Sith. Her legionnaires would follow her to their grave, and build a bridge of corpses if that was what she required to continue her ascension.

“Do you still think this is about father?” There was a malicious mirth in her voice.

(Edit: Just added the banner up top)

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Dark Lord of the Sith turned his thrusting lunge into a landing crouch as the Mandalorian warriors managed to just barely maneuver out of his way, the floor under his feet buckling under the impact as a spider's web of broken metal spiraled out in a chaotic pattern beneath him. Sword in hand, the Sith Emperor rose to his full frightening height and half-turned on his heel to regard the surviving Mandalorians as they regrouped from his terrifying advance.​

​

Vilaz Munin, so resolute and so committed to his beliefs, fighting hard against the whirlwinds of fate which buffeted him at every junction. He raged out against the hand destiny had often dealt him, refusing to believe that it was his lot in this life to let himself and his people suffer at the machinations of others.​

​

But like in all things, he was but a tool of greater power.​

​

The Emperor could feel it now, filtering down through the earth to suffuse the sub-levels beneath the Palace floor. Chaos, terror, violence, betrayal. Such delicious entropy, the betrayers had become the betrayed. Rogue Sith, so confident in their Imperial allies in their fight against a 'greater evil' were now cut down without ceremony by their own soldiers, the shock and fear and anger of their deaths were only perceivable by their killers on an infantile surface level. ​

​

To the Sith which fought against them, it was like a shot of adrenaline to the heart. Such darkness, wrought by such villainy, burst forth like water from a busted valve. Those who were attuned to such things drank of the darkness deeply and greedily, letting the waters of betrayal trickle down through their bodies and consciousnesses. ​

​

At his unseen bidding, the walls of the chamber switched on to various feeds of the above battle, focusing intently on the betrayal being wrought against the New Imperial Order's Sith allies from orders of the highest commands. Nothing was spoken from the Dark Lord of the Sith, though he looked at Vilaz Munin with an amusing gleam in both of his harrowing eyes. It was a silent question to the Emperor's once long-standing ally that if the New Imperial Order had no scruples about betraying one of their allies...​

​

What would stop them from betraying another?​

​

Then the Dark Lord moved like a shadowy blur, rushing across the expanse between himself and the former Mand'alor with the speed of the Dark Side. His blade was raised up to his side, tip pointed forward in preparation to deal the finishing thrust. Discharges of lightning burst forth from the air around the Dark Lord of the Sith, zipping through the air to snap and strangle the other Mandalorians which might impede his thundering charge.​

Vilaz Munin | Koda Fett ​

 

[Stilicho Drumarch]

The Immolation Scene
Focus: Grigory Tallis | Emmalene Thul (NPC)​

Salvor reeled backwards as the 3 shots landed in his core. He fell to the warm tiled floor, the crack of his helmet all he could hear as it smashed on the ground. His writhing in pain was interrupted by Tallis’ firm boot on his neck. He began to choke, and his neck was jarred back as Tallis kicked his helmet off. Salvor stared up at the man, wild eyed but completely, and utterly, helpless.

He rolled his head to the side to see a sight he’d never wished to see. As the rhythm throwers blazed to life, his comrades were engulfed, the wave of heat washing over Salvor’s face, and the screams blocked out anything the Major may have said to him. Salvor screamed in return. A frail scream of agony and sadness that barely left his mouth as his whole body convulsed in pain. It was futile. They were gone. His eyes began to well, though his tears were taken from existence by the blistering heat before they could fall from his eyes.

He turned his gaze back up to the Major, who barked orders to his men. Orders to find Emmalene. Perhaps she had escaped.

Staring at the traitor above him, his sadness began to swell into a rage. He balled his fists with great difficulty but he couldn’t raise them. His arms felt like jelly, and his body felt numb all over. Through his gritted teeth he delivered his final message to the Major.

“The Force shall free me”

It was fitting. He may have never been a Sith, may have never held a lightsaber or felt the force course through him. But the Code of the Sith meant all the same to him. It was why he had left the Emperor’s army. It was why he had led his men through hell to get to Bastion. All of that time and they had no idea it would end like this. Whatever this ending was.

Darkness fell around him, beginning to grip him like back on Dubrillion. Whether it was the cold darkness of the waves or the burning darkness of Bastion, it made no difference. Only this time he would not be coming back from it.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
POV: Emmalene Thul
Tavlar’s Betrayal​

When the fires had spewed from those infernal weapons she had been saved by the force. She had been the only one who could stand against the blazing onslaught. As the force parted the waves of flame around her she saw her soldiers fall. She saw Salvor fall. As she let go of her barrier, with it she let go of an ear piercing scream that had boiled up inside of her. She pushed the barrier into a row of New-Imperials knocking them to the floor, but not for long. She ignited the cross-guarded lightsaber she wielded and made for the door.

She of course had second thoughts. About leaving her brother, the only family she had. About leaving the soldiers who had fought valiantly for the Sith. But this was no time to think. She broke into a sprint, her heavy boots crashing against the floor, slowing her pace.

She stepped through the door to see the carnage in the square. Red-armoured soldiers were mercilessly cut down by their white-armoured counterparts on the steps leading up to the Emperor’s Palace.

This was supposed to be the hour of their victory. This was supposed to be the beginning of something new for the Sith. But alas, Emmalene had known it was too good to be true. Her brother had placed so much faith into the Imperator, but she saw now the truth. The New Imperial Order was no better than the Sith Empire, and every Sith would pay for their blindness here today.

Including her.

Standing atop the steps of the Imperial Capital Complex and facing across to the heart of the Battle of Bastion, she closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. She felt the hail of blaster bolts impacting her from behind. She tried to fight the pain, to stand her ground, but she couldn’t. She felt her legs begin to buckle, her feet came loose from the stone they stood on. She collapsed as the pain of more blaster bolts hitting her became everything she could feel.

She had been dead long before the New Imperials had finished firing on her corpse.

 

[IO-21]

Tags: Ruek Tast | Mazrim Caide/Taim
Forces: 5/5 Sentinel Series Droid Mark VIs

---

IO-21 and five other droids of the same model had been sent to investigate the remnants of the downed starship. There had been reports of sniper fire originating from this direction but also reports of an amassing group of fighters who would use this wreckage as a staging point for an unknown assault on New Imperial lines. Either way the droids were not concerned about the strategic value and there only mission was to survey the site, eliminate loyalist forces, and secure the bridge communication consoles.

The droids were staggered in the smashed corridor, residual power from emergency systems kept faint lights slowly blinking on and off. Power cabling dangled and harmlessly sparked off the metal frames of the droids as they brushed by. Then the lead droid turned left down a corridor as the following droid turned right. A repeating pattern of left and right continued till three droids stood facing either left or right through the intersection "Calibrating information." declared IO-21 as he was being sent rudimentary floor plans for this class of ship from an off-site droid relay station - a primary network HUB for organic 'Controllers' to feed intelligence and protocols to the multitude of droid patrols "Follow me." IO-21 stated as he went left down the corridor in a less than quiet march towards where the turbolift would have been, had it not been throwing through the door frame into the neighboring wall.

As the droid patrol looked up into the shaft to see if there was a way to climb it, all of the droids heard a clang of metal. They all stood silently, not a single joint moving as they waited to hear another sound. Clang! The patrol backed out of the turbolift shaft quickly with blasters leveled, torsos turning, as they scanned for hostile targets "Unknown origin." stated a droid "Complete the mission." IO-21 replied. After a few minutes of searching for an alternative route to reach the bridge they found one in the form of a web-like series of cables, bars, and dislocated paneling. This kind of obstacle was well within the humanoid droid's ability to climb. Slinging their blasters onto magnetic locks over their backs the patrol began to climb until they reached the engineering deck.

"Fan out." IO-21 stated as all the droids drew their blasters, spread out, raised their blasters, and began to walk down the wide corridor. It was dark and desolate. Grates hung limply from the ceiling as well did some corpses. Victims of the crash. Visible white light shown from the photo-receptors of the droids (their eyes) which lit up the hallway. As the patrol passed under a large hole in the ceiling IO-21 looked up, shining a ray of light through it.

 

[Seydou of Thyrsus]

ACQUIRE DATASETS
16th SOM Expeditionary Force "Pre Vizsla"
ALLIES: NIO // Tulan Kor Meshla Detta
ENEMIES: TSE // Cara Dorniarn Nida Perl
G R A ' T U A _ C U U N

​

DATACENTER TOWER,
CAPITAL COMPLEX

"Aidee, begin deletion sequence."

"Do NOT dare!" Amon snarled and charged forward, energy shield flaring. He had been talking over what Meshla was trying to tell him over the comms until-

<"Stay alive, Amon'ika.">

Amon's attention disappeared from the battle, his guard dropped and the unexpected metal tiles from the floor slammed at him like a sledgehammer. They sent him backwards crashing into a server, the shockwave reverberating through his whole body. His whole abdomen might've collapsed but he felt nothing but...an odd, foreign sensation of warmth.

He couldn't remember the last time being called as Amon'ika. She had, not surprisingly, cut off the communication right after saying it but the words lingered in his mind uninvited. They were there to stay. Meshla...Now of all times. He sighed and grumbled at the feeling of fondness.

The pain came back and with it - the anger. He pushed off the servers burying him and saw the electric storm on the other end of the chamber. He had led his men into the slaughter solely for the names on these servers, for the names responsible for the genocide upon the Mandalorians.

In vain.

Fury seeped into his veins.

He stood up and started walking towards the Sith. The red curtain had dropped. Meshla received no reply.

The black-green T-visor locked onto the Sith blocking his way.

"For eons you have tried and tried again to exterminate us, dar'jetii.

You can not.

We do not huddle in one place - we span the galaxy.

We need no lords or leaders - so you can not destroy our command.

We can live without technology - so we can fight with our bare hands.

We have no species or bloodline - so we can rebuild our ranks with others.

We're more than just a people or an army, dar'jetii. We're a culture. We're an idea.

And you can not kill ideas...

...but we certainly can kill you."

The vambrace rose up and unleashed an endless barrage of blaster fire upon the enemy.

He kept walking.

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

O U T R I D E R
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
JEDI KNIGHT GENERAL
Armor | Blade of Ruusan
W O U L D ?

​

Kyber Dark.

Even if his primary communications system was buried broken and battered beneath the molten and shattered earth of Ravelin, he could feel it. It was as bittersweet as it was still a vantablack of the darkness coming over him.

While the Imperial Knights were able to by and large embrace or calcify the notion in favor of duty to be done, Maynard's psyche was not as tempered nor jaded as theirs. It was a reverberating flash at the corners of his vision before it was a deafening silence all his own.

Within moments, the void of silence within his head was shattered.

>"Now is the chance, Maynard...the chance to snuff out the darkness once and for all. Seize it."< The Blade of Ruusan spoke out to the man who wielded it. Though its original vessel of retribution in Cedric Grayson might've snarled to see it in Maynard's hands, now, there was no denying the blade its presence here. No denying its duty to the Ashla by forsaking it elsewhere.

Its will be done.

Here. Now.

Nothing else mattered, Hailyn ...had to die. The Sith... had to die.

Just as the sons and daughters of the New Imperial Order, his wayward kin of Mandalore and his countrymen in the Galactic Alliance all did in the chaotic symphony of death and destruction around him in the ultimate, vindicated betrayal. To beat the Sith at their own game and wrench the rising darkness down to be vanquished forever.

In a fury of his blade, the selflessness of the saber coursing through him he surged back into the fray to meet Vesta in a clash of blades, shouldering the burden from Ryv to allow him a moment's respite and a chance to press the advantage on the Shi'do.

Within his armor and with the selflessness instilled by the blade lurching him squarely into the path of danger, he would cede all comfort from the battle to his brother in favor of baring the brunt of the fury. This was his obligation to the blade, to the Ashla while he wielded it. To stir harm from his comrades while dealing death to the enemy, the Sith.

"You had believed that dawn was upon us - but there is no sun coming, there is no tomorrow. There is only the night, the eclipse."

"I am Darth Mori."

Just as Maynard reeled back his blade and readied to deal a vocal riposte of his own, Vesta's blade surged through the space between them on its course to plunge into Maynard's abdomen.

He was ready to swing the Blade of Ruusan up over his chest and past his head before swinging it in a right to left cut of the saber to sever Vesta's neck when his vision narrowed, his senses enveloped with the surge of a pain before it dissipated into nothing...nothing at all.

His eyes shut before he fell back from the sword, the dark power snuffing out the fading voice of Ruusan as it yearned to catch his mind once more before he collapsed back unto the floor beneath.

>"Maynard...-"< The Blade spoke in futility to the Jedi as he honed in on the beating of his heart, the choked breathing coursing from his lungs with each pass. He could feel...he was losing his grasp. In the midst of the pain that choked at his senses until it seemed too difficult, too futile to keep pulling at his will.

But he was far too resolute of a spirit to delve so easily into the end. His hand moved down to press into the wound, the darkened blade instantly drawing his lifeblood in droves before he clutched his hand against the wound to apply pressure. His eyes were screwed shut as the hilt of his saber fell from his hand.

It was then that the weight of it all, the lack of that presence of calm drew the welling of tears into his eyes and he sucked in a breath before he began to weep.

"Ryv...I'm sorry..." The Concordian muttered as he continued to press and grasp at his wound. More than anything else, now...he wanted to hear her voice. Catch one last glimpse into her eyes. One final caress through her blonde locks or that reassuring embrace and smile that'd let him know...it'd all be alright.

Selfishly, he didn't care about anything else in this moment.

”I can't keep being the fool who waits any longer to say I love you.”

He thought back to then, that grasp at an ultimate vindication. That confirmation that he wasn't alone anymore, someone was at his side, someone he was more certain of than anyone else. Just like Ryv was. Now...now he'd let them both down. The man who'd been ever the reliable, the one who'd held both of them in his arms as they muttered those same apologies back to him...and now he was the one glimpsing into the end.

He felt cold...and alone. When he stepped off that gunship and ignited the saber, he'd never felt so brave in his life...but now...he was all but petrified, sent cowering in the corner of his mind as the frigid embrace neared him.

It grew closer when that feeling of loneliness withered into a reluctant acceptance, his fingers coursing into the hand offered to him. The easier way out. Enticing as he felt a loving embrace from everyone who'd ever cared for him. His mother, his once mentor, his cousin, Ryv, Loske, all of them. They welcomed him into the fateful end.

Though one presence was noticably void from the pack. A presence strong on the field of Bastion that day. A presence who refused to let such a soul be snuffed out so easily.

"Maynard...get up." said the voice of Vyrin Karis, the father to the very man which Maynard loved as his brother.

"I-...I'm...I don't know if I'm strong enough..." Maynard muttered in weak futility as tears streamed down his cheeks, the searing pain of the lash of the darkness drowned out by the pit of dread that enveloped him in know that he was failing.

"You're far stronger than you think...and they need you. I believe in you...and they're counting on you. I know you won't let them down." Vyrin said, beckoning on Maynard to rise once more in defiance.

The Concordian pressed himself against the wall behind him before he planted a hand to the floor beneath, slowly working to pull himself from the floor as his lifeblood still trickled haplessly from the open wound from the blade, the systems within the armor only serving so well to seal itself over as an injection of bacta allowed him the second wind, the second grasp at life.

He could only hope Ryv could deliver his vengeance.

THE LIGHT
Ryv | Loske Treicolt | Kir Dantos
THE DARK
Hailyn | Quinn Varanin | Grrwunhoooll Agaburry ​

 

[Dorian Sicarrio]

Vaylin | Mavia
​

A chill ran down Dorian's spine. No, he wasn't afraid of anything (that was a lie, there were a bunch of things, but he'd already gone through them that day) but whatever the Sith was doing made him feel endangered. Like prey, about to be swallowed whole. He pulled his weapon back, preparing for a second strike, only to be knocked away by their opponent's Force push. Mavia held her own while Dorian tumbled away.

He found his footing again after being pushed to the edge of the tower. There was no chance that he was leaving so easily. Mavia was strong, but she couldn't fight alone -- he'd learned that people were stronger together. Plus, who would he be to get knocked out now?

Perhaps it was because of that inkling of dread, but as he took his next steps he found the tempo raised. There was something coming. Whatever it was, he didn't want it to get to him or Mavia. He needed to distract, to kill the Sith. He immersed himself in the Force, and it propelled him like a hyperdrive sending a ship to lightspeed. In an instant he'd closed the gap to rejoin Mavia in the duel.

Shield and spear was an apt description for the pair. Mavia's modified Soresu style allowed her to be a close-quarters threat and keep her opponent engaged, while protecting Dorian's more aggressive and powerful attacks. The greater reach afforded to him by his spear allowed him to stay behind Mavia while staying in range of the Sith. Dorian darted in and thrust while Mavia focused on creating momentary openings.

No, he wasn't going anywhere.

"Yeah, there might've been others before us -- but there's never been us. Don't get caught in the past," he said, thrusting again at the Sith Lady.

 

[Darth Bellum]

W A R M A S T E R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
13th Shocktrooper Legion - Warmaster's Wrath
W R A T H

​

Aboard The Shadowbringer
Orbit above Bastion

Admiral Koruuna stood aboard the bridge of The Shadowbringer, arms crossed behind his back as he observed the battle far above Bastion with Sith Imperial fleets engaging the New Imperial Order's forces in space. The Shadowbringer's primary function was to provide support and aid the accompanying fleet with it, after having seized and dispensed the shields of any enemies unfortunate enough to get caught in its Assimilator Cannon's line of fire. With renewed vigor and even stronger shields, The Shadowbringer and the rest of its fleet floated through space, taking damage from all sides without a care in the world.​

​

Everything seemed to be going smoothly and according to plan, but alas, were it so easy. Admiral Koruuna shifted his gaze as several stormtroopers entered the bridge after the order for Operation Kyber Dark was given, raising their blasters set to stun as the lead spoke, " Admiral Koruuna, per the Imperator's orders, you are being ordered to stand down and surrender. Command of The Shadowbringer is to be relinquished immediately. " The Atrisian admiral cocked an eyebrow as he turned around to face them fully, hands held behind his back before speaking in a dry and unamused tone, his usual upbeat and sarcastic attitude gone, " I wouldn't point those at me if I were you... " The stormtrooper captain was about to retort only to see something shimmer in front of him, an armored hand reaching up to cover their face as they felt a combat knife being rammed into their neck. The captain let out a gurgle as his finger slipped, firing off a wild shot as it zooms past the unflinching Admiral's head. ​

​

The several other stormtroopers would follow suit as they were quickly dispatched, splatters of blood splashing on invisible forms, the several forms of Vexen's Dragoons that were specialized in stealth and reconnaissance appeared, the assigned security staff attached to protecting Admiral Koruuna as well as several key locations aboard the vessel. Admiral Koruuna would walk over to the stormtroopers and Dragoons, the bridge staff going about their business as if nothing happened. The Admiral stood in front of the Dragoon commander as he looked up at them, " Secure the ship and ensure all defenses are unsabotaged. All personnel attempting to tamper with them are to be executed on sight. I will not have my ship butchered from the inside. " ​

​

The Dragoons simply nodded in acknowledgment as most vacated the bridge, fading into nothingness as they activated their optic camouflages, relaying orders to the rest of their unit still stationed aboard The Shadowbringer, Koruuna turning back around as he strode to the front of the bridge, " Deploy all fighters. I want turbolasers on anything approaching our fleet. " ​

Ravelin, Capital City
Fortress Carnifex

The Dragoons moving to intercept the Yoruba droid continued on their path, the massive war droid shifting its attention as it began deploying its defenses to deal with the airborne threat. Swarms of micro missiles would fly out as the Dragoons scattered. Several didn't stand much of a chance as they were chased down by the seeker missiles, becoming atomized and blown to bits before they had much time to put up a fight. It was a suicidal mission at best, but one that was of the utmost importance for both victory and survival. A singular Dragoon had made it through, a nearby explosion having sent her spiraling into the Yoruba droid's chassis as her arm was blown off. She'd struggle to regain control of her thruster pack as she reoriented herself, sliding into one of the gaps in the droid's body.​

​

She'd make her way through an access point that was typically reserved for maintenance workers as she made her way inside closer and closer to the core of the droid, finally reaching it as her vision began to blur and fade, stumbling as the loss of blood from her blown off arm was rapidly getting to her. She reached down to her calve as she pulled out her Specter Knife from its sheath, making her way to the droid's primary core as she let out labored breaths. A typical person would have passed out from shock and blood loss, but sheer tenacity and commitment drove her to her final actions as she slammed the knife into the console and activated it. Her hand gripped the knife tightly for a moment before slowly loosening its grip and falling, exhaling her last breath.​

​

The slicing knife would do its work, having been programmed to hack into the droid. Vexen's vocoded voice could be heard, " Override Authorization Code - Bellum Omnium Contra Omnes... " The droid would visibly seem to freeze as the override command was administered to it, taking precedence over its directive to serve the Sith Empire, and instead perform the bidding of Vexen as the voice spoke from the knife, " Initiate Deadlock Protocol... " The Yoruba droid's gaze shifted as it turned to the Fortress, stomping the shattered ground beneath it as its chest opened up, the siege laser mounted beneath starting to warm up as it prepared to fire a devastating laser.​

​

=====​

​

Vexen was nothing if not a serene storm on the battlefield, a calmness and stoic atmosphere to him despite the destruction and death he left in his wake. Each swing of his saber, every flick of his hand a carefully executed action with devastating reaction. Vexen stood amidst a circle of Dragoons, holding their positions around him as they had Stormtroopers and Sith troopers come at them from all angles as both sides took advantage of the chaos and confusion wrought by the execution of Operation Kyber Dark to try and overwhelm the Anzati. A dire situation for anyone other than the battle-hardened Sith and his followers fighting with the skill and ferocity of a dozen soldiers each.​

​

A stormtrooper attempted to charge the formation, only to get shouldered by a Dragoon using their thruster pack for added force before getting sent to the ground with a boot pressed against their midsection and a swift pair of blaster bolts sent through their chest and helmet. The Dragoon raised their blaster up as they began to take fire, having stepped out of formation as they soon were taking focused fire. Their shields were strong, and built to take a beating, but there were limitations, and their fight had just been made twice as difficult. The Dragoon's shields would soon shatter and fade as they took several blaster shots to the chest, knocking them to the ground, clutching their chest as the wind was knocked out of them. ​

​

Vexen would raise his hand up as he used the Force to drag the downed Dragoon into the circular formation, the rest closing ranks as they used their overlapping shields to cover each others backs. As much as Vexen reveled in the chaos, his Dragoons would only be able to hold their ground for so long. His gaze turned towards the Yoruba droid which had redirected its attention away from his position and the battle itself as he saw that his loyal troops were successful in their endeavor. A glow would emanate from his belt as the Shadow's Folly amulet he had in his possession was being activated. Time and space seemed to distort in the area behind him before tearing open a portal to Otherspace. Vexen unceremoniously sent the wounded Dragoon into the rift as he spoke to the rest of his Dragoons, " Live to fight another war my chosen... This is my final order to you as Lord Sacrorum... " ​

​

Vexen's Dragoons turned their heads in hesitation, leaving their commander was the last order they had in mind, but they knew that if it was their place to fight till the bitter end, then it would have not been given. Vexen's foresight had always proven to be excellent and with purpose, so his command to abandon him amidst this fight must have had greater reasoning behind it. The Dragoons would swiftly retreat into the rift as Vexen sealed it once the last of them had left.​

​

Vexen was now alone, without support and without allies in this battle. A flashback to his younger days, when he had struck out into the Galaxy unknown and by himself, with nothing and nobody but himself and his desire to become stronger. Now here he stood, making what very well was his final stand in his old and mortal body. Vexen raised both of his hands up, curling his fingers into fists as he reached deep into his Sea of Memories, mustering up the essence of some of the finest Jedi and Sith he had fought in his lifetime, strengthening his connection to the Force in his final stand as strips of earth were ripped from the ground, caving inwards around the Anzati to create barriers to protect him from small arms fire directed at him by the Gravewalkers and troops engaging him. ​

​

He'd turn to finally see the face of Tavlar approaching him, the outcome of the battle between the two resulting in only one of them walking out of it alive. He'd swing his hand off to the side as the rocket that Tavlar shot at him was sent spiraling off into the ground as the man charged at Vexen with their vibrosword raised. Vexen would draw his own saber as he used the uniquely designed crossguard and bladed edge to parry the thrust upwards past his shoulder, getting the two closer as the Anzati rammed his shoulder into Tavlar to shove him backward, the Warmaster speaking, " So you finally bare your fangs at me. I always wondered when such a day would come... Tell me...How long have you been planning this for... Since the formation of our new order? Or perhaps...Kintan. " ​

// ALLIES | The Force
// ENEMY | TSE //: Anden Fancelo / NIO//: Irveric Tavlar

 

[Kir Dantos]

Quinn Varanin Maynard Treicolt Loske Treicolt Grrwunhoooll Agaburry

Cry havoc and let loose the dogs of war

Pain..

A concept many believed themselves to be masters in. Even Kir himself had thought himself at least marginally experienced in what it truly meant, but as the dogs of war echoed around him, he uncovered the vast ocean of death and destruction that plagued all living beings.

It was almost amusing to think about it in such away. To ponder the fundemental nature of it all. Quinn's monologue had planted thoughts in his mind that questioned his being, it was as if his existence was being put on trial. The teachings of Yoda and Skywalker couldn't have predicted what was being experienced on the plain of battle. Interestingly, a great conflict had been mentioned, he'd instantly thought of clashing blades of crimson and emerald, but that wasn't anywhere near what this cataclysmic bout of ideologies was really about.


The padawan peered into the stark eyes of his opponent, moving into a spin, before landing a strike on the golden blade of his Echani adversary. He was stoic in his position as the two tangoed with their sabres. Quiet confidence with an err of methodical caution emanated from him as he let the force work on him. In that moment, he felt symbiotic with the energy field that was everything and nothing at the same time.

As he was about to come in for another downwards cut, he felt a wave that usually would indicate some dark presence. Vesta? No.. the associate of Quinn's was off fighting his own teacher and Master Ryv Karis. Perhaps another Sith? Realising that he'd let down his guard, he flipped backwards, momentarily turning his attention to the large scarlet behemoth that surprisingly didn't seem to be bolting towards him.

The padawan tripped over his feet, managing to veer out of the way of a thermal detonator blast as the being dashed towards Quinn.

Picking himself up, Kir joined the Gen'dai in the pursuit, willing himself into a long force propelled leap. He landed on his hand as he heard Grrwunhoooll Agaburry utter the name,

Ashin

Kir had problems discerning the identity of the Varanin, but he was confident that she wasn't the infamous Sith, Ashin Varanin. Her assumed 'predecessor'. The fateful case of mistaken identity might've seemed like a miracle, but in a way, he didn't want it, it didn't feel deserved for her to have the wrath of the giant on her. For all they'd been through on Myrkr, the young woman had made an imprint on him that was probably unwanted.

Releasing himself from the pity he felt for her, he stepped back into the heat of battle, attempting a quick swing on his blade, but this time it wasn't the same. She was scared, and he could feel it as if it was his own pain. Pressing him. And as she fell, he did not feel the burning hatred he once did. He reluctantly rose his lightsaber above his head, and just as he was about to strike her, he collected himself and the moment on the jungle planet raced through his head.

Luminous beings are we...

A Jedi does not hate

LEARN TO LET GO

A myriad of voices reverberated through his mind. Maynard, Loske, Ryv, Quinn, Vesta, Yoda, Skywalker.. everyone chanting his name in unison. Then.

Peace, serenity, tranquility, he felt oceans raising and dropping. The sounds pounding around him ceased to exist and it was just him and her. He knew what to do, he'd always known, but never acted on it. Enlightening.


He lowered his blade and just stared blankly. ”That's enough big guy Grrwunhoooll Agaburry . She's had enough."

"I'm sorry Quinn, but I can't do this to you. I can't let you go on without giving you a choice. The Jedi are flawed and so are we, only through the conduit of the Force can we truly know who we are. You are all of Ashin Varanin, and none of her at the same time. The capacity to look past your hatred of me and of the Jedi was not afforded to you and I can empathise."

"The logical thing would be to end you here and now. But I won't. Stop fighting. I won't hate you as you do me, because deep down, we're the same.”

The young Jedi knelt down and his blank expression dissipated, changing to one of warmth as he squeezed her shoulder. ”Rest, escape. Do or die, the Force is within all of us, and I will never forget that. I won't be blinded by rage. Join me on the path to healing, there's good in you."

Turning away, he scanned the battlefield for those closest to his heart. In the midst of battle, he bent his legs into a meditative pose. Allowing the wind to move through his brown hair. By a wall, he could feel in the Force that danger had crept up upon one of his friends. Kir took one last glance at Quinn, managing a small smile, before dashing through the battleground. Coalition and S-IMP troopers alike crumpled to the ground, shot to pieces, their only respite being the mud of their shared graves.

Then he noticed the ailing face of his teacher, strewn across a wall. Continuing his mad dash with a newfound fervour, he soon arrived to the wall and knelt down. All the happiness and insight he'd just experienced, faded away over the course of a few seconds. Tears formed in his eyes. ”Master you're hur- you're fine." He attempted to deny the wound Maynard had acquired. Nothing else mattered except the man who was like a father to him.

"Where's Master Ryv and Loske?" He asked, the blazes of pain and war once again obscuring everything.

 

[Agrippa]

G L A D I U S _ A C T U A L
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION
V E N G E A N C E
ALLIES: NIO // Imperator: Irveric Tavlar // Dorn-2: Ravraa Vyshraal // 19th Company: FN-999 // Doom Division: Asharo Madar | Sion Alar | Halketh
ENEMIES: TSE

​

"We goin' up or what?"

"It's the only way left." I nodded at the Major, my eyes lingering over her for a longer time than they should have. She reminded me of Nima. Confident, badass and all guns blazing.

Nima.

He looked through the Major and then back at the ascent ahead.

No turning back now.

Something ominous tugged at me. There, on the top of the Fortress, I could envision the New Imperial flag waving proudly against the winds of tyranny, yet the vision revealed nothing after.

Only darkness.

I never looked back again.

Rallying the troops, or what was left of us, I marched us upwards. To glory. To victory.

To retribution.

Through the fire and flames, through the blood and bone, we reached the top of Fortress Carnifex only a number of us remaining. Hawkeye disappeared in the charge on the Strip, his platoon followed after into destruction. Hooks died on the steel tiled hallway of the Fortress, ravaged by a Dashade beast. Krayt made his last stand against the Sith. Bingo perished in the ascent, ambushed.

Only Faceless and I remained, and a few enlisted.

The Death of Gladius Company.

Before us on the massive open rooftop overlooking Bastion, one final obstacle awaited.

Their red lightsabers snap hissed to life.

Blood dripped from Faceless' alchemized blade, exhaustion made his steps heavy but he moved ahead of me. Tempest in his eyes.

He staggered into a combat stance.

I moved beside him, the pike holding the flag pointing towards the Sith.

Faceless gave me a cold glare but said nothing, turned his attention back to the Sith Lords.

I glanced back at the little remaining forces of Gladius, Doom, Dorn and the 19th.

This was it.

The last stand.

I bellowed,

"Come on, you sons of bitches,

do you want to live forever?"

 

[Grrwunhoooll Agaburry]

​

Location: ^^
Temp Allies Quinn Varanin Hailyn
Enemies: Loske Treicolt Maynard Treicolt
Engaging: New Imperial Military and Kir Dantos
Objective: Get answers, NOW.
Equipment: Sith-sword, Armor, Acid-rifle

​

There was no heart beat.

Not from Kezeroth himself. The rhythmic beat he could feel as his own came from the sith right next to him. Quinn Varanin . Her body trembled with anxiety and fear briefly, first from his attack and then from something else. Though the fear the giant had instilled in her was present, there was a greater force at play that had flooded her system with such chemicals to cause her small reaction of shock. In fact the Gen'dai raised a brow in confusion merely trying to understand what happened to the acid he had shot and yet there was something else that warranted his attention further. Still under the effects of Force speed Kezeroth took in his surroundings one more time. Physically the situation was dire and yet in the force all could be felt. The Darkside of the force was always strong and yet it found a exponential increase now. Death riddled and stained the air of Bastion with sith blood. Be it Imperial or of the Empire, it did not matter now. The masked faces and designated numbers of stormtroopers that surrounded them now, Men and women he once commanded and fought beside had now put him in their sights. They had their orders.

The twinge of confusion that had crossed the Gen'dais mind faded into obscurity. Kezeroth felt equivocal about what had to be done. Heavy launchers, grenades and flamethrowers all to ensure the last of his genetic structure would never come back. Moving slowly near Kir Dantos and the yound sith acolyte, Kezeroth lingered looking about supiciously as the young jedi showed nothing but a cool head. A response was formulated in his mind but the words for the Jedi were cut short. " What the kark is going-" Zzziipp A quick bolt of energy. A sword severing through muscle, tendons, optical nerves and the brain itself. Smoke wisped out of Kezeroths right eye as a armored hand fell over it. It was mere instinct to touch the area. On a physical and biological level the wound that had just occurred was hardly fatal, but on a mental or psychological level it was devastating. There was one thing a Gen'dai could not regenerate.
Kill.

Remember Kezeroth, We are not immortal. Your greatest weakness as a species is our minds. We can regrow everything perfectly but the mind we will lose..forever and with it yourself. Do you understand? ~ Saverok Barcu ​

Kill.
Twitching in pain and landing his mind back into the present moment from the flashback he had just had with his father. A memory to see one last time before it has erased, only carbon scoring remained for the time being and for whatever reason it had caused the Gen'dai to react strangely. Kill. There were no words to be spoken, only the gathering inferno of hatred. There were no tears to be shed for his lose of allies and memories, only smoke wafting toward the heavens above and it painted a picture of what was to come. A dark self ful-filling prophecy with no end. The aura around the red demon changed almost instantly. A testament and mirroring of the instability that he was felt now. Bloodlust. A twisted black hole of red that encompassed the two pupils on his visage. Ripping off his armored helmet in a fit, the shell of protective equipment slammed cracking the duracrete below. The screams in the back ground, the pillar of fire and stormtroopers taken down by invisible darts. Just as his enemy had helped him for this moment in time, So would Kezeroth help her. A rough eerie rub sounded from his mouth as he stared at Quinn Varanin in her distress. Her pain was his own. There was no amount of time that could heal 1500 years of trauma as a slave to the sith. Kill them. That empire of old had long past and still hatred burned bright because of it. Those past hurts he could never forgive.

Just as I was used in the past by the Sith of old, No better is the New Imperial Order of this era.

By this point the sheer amount of darkside energy was oozing out of him. The air grew stale, as hot as Tatooines mid-day. It kicked and clawed for release now. Dark abomination to be set free into the wild. The silent command was given. A trigger for numerous bodies to fire their weapons but also for Kezeroth to have his way. From behind Quinn Varanin and in front of Kezeroth, it seemed a wall of blaster fire, grenades and missiles were fired, all directed at the sith. The red demons eyes struck a new cord of luminescence. Like twin suns they glew bright. The fiery hatred in his veins and prolonged seething had birthed Deadly Sight. Death. Death for the blaster bolts that faded into nothingness, death for the grenades and missiles that were turned back into basic elements. Naught but ash. The twisted negative energy washed over the two squads in a wave. For a few seconds the agonizing pain of being vaporized echoed over miles as a symphony of desolation. There was nothing left of the stormtroopers at all.

Expect the girl and the young jedi.

For now there was an understanding...for now. The twin suns that were the Gen'dais eyes faded to normal. His chest expanded outward as if breathing in. The Darkside had peaked its power within him and still it hungered for more. He hungered. Kill. Drawing his Sith-sword in with his left hand and acid-rifle in the other Kezeroth expelled a feral growl toward New Imperial troops behind him with eyes re-ignited in the darkside. As of yet they had not attacked him from behind, they waited for something. A fiendish fury swallowed him whole. Was it mere coincidence that Kezeroths Sith-sword had fanned him into a instantaneous fit of Force Rage? His full attention was directed on the Jedi now.

" Heheheheheheheheheheheh." A long crazed chuckle escaped his mouth before snapping at the young man. "You do not tell me what is enough, boy." Kezeroth gritted his teeth continuing to growl, only this time thick saliva leaked from his maw. Like a frenzied maalraa. His eyes darted about viciously. To Jedi, to sith, to new imperial military and then back to the jedi. Locked on him another chuckle escaped his mouth before it stopped short. In the Gen'dais shattered and splintered psyche it was clear what was happening all around and yet he was still putting together a puzzle.

" You dare attack me? Do you know who you face? That they would send you? YOU! Who issued the order the karking order.." His gaze shot accusingly at the jedi then to the stormtroopers in the distance. This traitor. This betrayer. Any ally of the the NIO was now and enemy to him and while Kezeroth had no clue who was against him in this sudden turn of events, He was not going to be the first to find out. Moving toward the Jedi, the lumbering giant did not look keen on waiting for a respond. His posture was hostile and the look in his eye was riveting to say the least. He was disturbed and yet the grip on his sword and acid rifle tightened.

​

​

 

[Halketh]

user :// THE_VULTURE​

location :// FORT CARNIFEX, BASTION​

objective :// CLEAN_HOUSE​

post :// ix​

allies :// NIO | FN-999 & 19TH ASSAULT COMPANY | Agrippa & GLADIUS COMPANY | Ravraa Vyshraal & DORN-02 | DOOM DIVISON​

enemies_closeby :// Adrian Vandiir | Ingrid L'lerim | Aren D'Shade | Darth Adekos​

doom_division_status :// 196/230 [LIVING] [100/93] UNDEAD​

[x]

YOUR_WORLD_WILL_FAIL​

Halketh pressed on with his soldiers on his heels, dashing by the stairwell he had sent Bridgebreaker's forces up. The planting of banners was of no real significance to him, after all, he didn't even know what separated their insignia from others; being blind had a funny way of reshuffling one's priorities. Before the collection of his soldiers, their undead comrades surged, serving as unliving shields to the blaster fire from the defensive pockets scattered around the lower reaches of the fort.​

He felt the thread tearing at his mind once more. Treachery was in the air, even beyond their own. ​

This realization made him snarl into his helmet- that was until the familiar crackle of communications echoed through the chaos: ​

"VULTURE, we've landed. We're rolling through now. MEDEVAC is on site, VALKs are getting to work." ​

"Excellent-" He nodded to himself, "I believe we are wrapping this up. I will be along shortly. VULTURE out."​

His mood snapped right back to irritation. Where were Asharo and Sion? He had expected to see them more than just at their landing. He held suspicion the source of this treasonous rise had something to do with them. ​

"SAVANT_1, where is SAVANT_2?"​

RUN_BABY_RUN​

user :// MAJOR "BRIDGEBREAKER" STRASZA
location :// FORTRESS CARNIFEX, BASTION
objective :// PLANT_THE_FLAG
allies :// NIO | Agrippa , Asharo Madar , Sion Alar , Irveric Tavlar , Ravraa Vyshraal , Djorn Bline , Ra Vizsla , DK-03 , AND OTHERS
enemies :// TSE | NEW IMPERIAL SITH DESIGNATES Darth Adekos , Darth Avernus , Grrwunhoooll Agaburry , AND OTHERS
doom_division_status :// 196/230 [LIVING] 13/60 [NEW IMPERIAL SITH KNIGHTS REMAIN 100/97 [UNDEAD]

The Major grinned beneath her blood-splattered helmet towards the captain, offering him a nod of affirmation. "We're right behind you." A stride took her over the mess she had just made and up a step further, where she offered a look back to her squadron. "We support GLADIUS until the end, do you all understand? We have our orders!" A swift, echoing rap of fist to chestguard rattling up the stairwell echoed the affirmation of her words. "This fort ain't gonna claim itself!"​

And so they started their climb, tight on Gladius Company's tail, shedding the fringes of their numbers like snakeskin the entire way. The march was brutal and taxing, with every flight of spanning steps seeming to cost more than the last. But the Major and her men were more than determined to see it through. They would not stop until the banner of The New Imperial Order shadowed the bloodshed below. Until the cry of their victory rung out through the streets. Until the last of the Darkness had Fallen.​

At the top of the fort, stepping out onto the platform, Doom Division was met the same as those they escorted, by hailing winds and a line of Sith Lords determined to escape off the roof.​

Final stand met final stand.​

A swift crack of her neck carried her forth and she poised beside Agrippa , discarding her empty scattergun and instead, drawing the twin vibroblades from beneath her cloak. One spun back whilst the other swayed forth and she adjusted her stance, readying herself. The handful of D.D shocktroopers remaining with her wrapped around them, taking knees to form firing lines. What little ammunition they had spared was about to be spent.​

"DOOM DIVISION!" Strasza cried in rally the tension coiling in her legs.​

"OORAH!"​

"I'LL SEE YOU ALL IN HELL!"​

"OORAH!"​

The passionate cries signaled their charge, and at once, the chorus of A-52 fire thundered across the top of the fort, ripping into the approaching Sith.​

"WITH ME, CAPTAIN- THAT BANNER AIN'T GONNA PLANT ITSELF!" Bridgebreaker shouted over the hell-storm before she rushed forward, keeping her position tight to avoid the gunfire to her right and dropped low, narrowly avoiding the slash of crimson saber. Her left blade bit the flesh behind her opponent's right knee, dropping him as her momentum carried her through.​

She did not fear death. Not for herself. Not for her men.​

And not for this.​

 

[Meshla Detta]

Location: Datacenter, Capital Complex
Objective: Data retrieval, retribution
Allies: SoM, NIO - in the vicinity of Seydou of Thyrsus , Tulan Kor , Ra Vizsla , Crius Hannad
Enemies: TSE - in the vicinity of Darth Ophidia , Cara Dorniarn , Bel'sa'Nikto
Engaging Nida Perl
Gear: In bio

So Say We All

Mandalore remembers...
I remember...
This is for you, Val'ika, my beloved son.
Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.
_______


<"Amon, this is Meshla... Where are you? My task is finished.">

Moments went by without an answer from the young Vizsla. It concerned the Detta though she had faith that the son of the infamous Mando Alor Ronan Vizsla and a skilled soldier to boot could hold his own against most foes and then some. At least she had to hold onto that hope or what else was there to live for? It was all or nothing this fight, right?

They had to extinguish the Sith and make them pay here and now if ever the Mando'ade were to be free; the two of them free also of the personal burdens they each carried. Well, that wasn't all true. There was still Manda'yaim to take back if only on principle, but that was a whole other battle to be waged.

Meshla pushed those wistful musings away as the voice of Irveric Tavlar crackled to life in her helmet over the NIO's tactical comm frequency. The leader of the New Imperial Order gave a rousing speech, then the Imperator initiated the order those in the know were secretly waiting to hear...

<"Commence Operation Kyber Dark.">​

And just like that, the winds of war changed on a dime. Their firestorm began feeding upon the newest fuel in its path... not only the Darksiders of the Sith Empire but those aligned with the NIO - the traitors of the former. Well to the Mando, Sith were Sith. They would not find any quarter from her. Vengeance was best served dead cold by the blade of her beskad or a bolt delivered between their eyes from her slugthrower.

A Mandalorian never forgets...

Coming around a corner that led into another long hallway, the Detta spotted a petite Zeltron exiting from another server room it appeared. The pink-hued young woman seemed out of place here yet didn't. There was something about her that was off... Then she noticed the eyes. There was an eerie halo of yellow etched around the girl's otherwise beautiful purple orbs. She was not a Dar'jetii with them but with SE... Was it the Perl rumored to have turned? Jedi were just as bad as Sith in Meshla's book. Neither could be trusted.

Meshla raised her arm up and launched a wrist rocket from the left gauntlet of her blue beskar-armored suit worn in the direction of Nida hoping, no praying, she had better aim or was it dumb luck than her stepfather, Vilaz Munin ...

If somehow the computer-tracked mini concussion rocket didn't hit its intended target directly which was the preferred outcome, of course, a missed shot might cause an explosion otherwise bringing the ceiling down on top of the fallen Jedi. Or it might even activate the fire suppression system if the ceiling held, spraying a green gel-like substance on any flames licking about. The thing about this new-age retardant though, it worked well but was real slippery.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Together they collided in a cataclysmic test of wills when their blades crashed together in thunderous contest, cobalt flames dancing menacingly against the cold steel of the Man of Iron's argent blade. They seemed alive with malign intent struggling desperately to reach the cold steel of armor and the warm skin beneath to char and burn, until flesh blackened and charred into ash. There were very few he ever encountered with the sheer physical might to withstand his assault so completely, so directly like Rurik Fel had. Braxus Zambrano was an absolutely titanic force of genhanced perfection, first in the fires of Maena that radically changed his physiology and then in the gene laboratories of Malsheem that spliced prepared gene stock into the Zambrano Pureblood Epicanthix's DNA. Most never dared to take his direct assault or find themselves smashed into pieces, their broken bodies cast aside. Yet this noble warrior stood resolute before him, alert eyes could see the strain it placed through his wounded form to maintain such a defense yet when his gaze passed over the Imperial Knight's head? Nothing.

It was intense focus honed to such a degree it drowned out all noise. It drowned out the screaming pain of muscles and the strained protests of cybernetics beneath his skin that struggled to compensate to resist the overwhelming force that sought their annihilation. It was experienced honed at the hand of a skilled warrior but also, a truly rare soul that could become the calm within the storm itself. "Good. I am ready for the end DEMON! But something tells me that your very afraid to see what awaits. I'll make sure that you see it." Words that spilled forth from the figures mouth followed by a blur, a flash of his hand. The giant tried to bring his other hand down in time, but within the armor he was slower and the figure was faster as he drew the smooth, black weapon and time seemed to slow as he saw the barrel pointed at his chest, his own hand too far away to provide a defense as the Man of Iron pulled the trigger and unleashed the destructive fury of its deafening silence. A horrific sonic wave that penetrated beneath the Sarrassian Iron, beneath the Impervium and the kinetic padding, and the armorweave bodyglove and delivered its wrath straight into the flesh and dense bone. It created a sanguine explosion that ripped flesh, it blew rips asunder into powdery sprays of shrapnel like comets cast through the stars. Its devastation at such a point blank distance buckled his chest inward. Blood flowed as it was cast out of his mouth like a spout against the interior of the helm and down his chin. Alerts crashed in but his own focus was momentarily cast elsewhere.

Acheron.

That blasted plane of existence beyond their world. A realm of eternal darkness. The words from the Lurking Presence rang in his mind after his near death following the battle with former Jedi Grandmaster Veiere Arenais: "Even on bent knee, beneath the cold faces of great Gods, do men find warmth. But -I- have known only sorrow and agony. Gods exist only to pay the unfathomable tolls of mortal souls. Acheron is the rack, upon which the God’s are stretched and broken. Ceaseless grief. . . boundless atrocity . . layer upon layer of tortured history. Always fading, then forever gone." The realm after death that sought desperately to claim him after the light had wrapped itself around his soul with a determination to see him burn alive in its radiance. But he would not be bound to death, he would not fall to fate. Operation Kyber Dark.

In one move he felt it across the world the tides of death had grown. In one fell swoop the betrayers had become the betrayed as all of the apostates under the reign of the Lord Imperator Irveric Tavlar were being harvested, butchered like dogs. Some might've said this was coming if they had known how profound the hatred the man held was. Such shock, fear, and pain that washed through the world like the surge of the dark tides, the busting of a radiant dam that flooded his body with their dying moments, surging him with power of the negative emotion. The Sith Lord pushed through the pain and swung his open hand towards the man, letting loose a repulsor blast from the gauntlet and trying to deliver a thunderous kick to the man to create an opening to try and bring the blade down once more.

​

Rurik Fel ​

 

[Cyndane]

Objective: Destruction ​

Location: Residential Sector, bordering the Administrative Sector ​

Equipment: Lightsaber, Blaster pistol, 3 2 thermal detonators​

Enemies: New Imperial Order, Ursula Vizla ​

Her rasping breath was interrupted by a nefarious chuckle. "Alright?... Gentle?" The Mandalorian was mocking her. Ridiculing her on the karking worst day of her life. Bastion was burning. More than half of her platoon was lost. The man she had to call "Master" wasn't even involved in the battle and worst of all, she was losing this duel. She hadn't been able to land a proper blow to the Mandalorian yet, while she herself could no longer feel her upper arm. Her nerves cried out in pain along the edges of the scorched flesh and the rough fabric of her sleeves only made it worse. She was actively resisting the urge to wince at every motion of her arm; she would not give the Mandalorian that satisfaction.

The scowl on her face contorted in a grimace of wry amusement. Perhaps it was all just a lie. One grand deception, to keep 'pawns' like herself in line. The Empire wasn't invincible, nor was it superior. So what was she fighting for? Survival? The idea alone made her laugh. There was no use in surviving without purpose. But that begged the question: what was her purpose? Without a proper course and objective, the Dark side was nothing more than mindless destruction. And perhaps that was all she needed.

Arisia continued to funnel the might of the Dark side into her over exhausted body. She could still taste the blood in her mouth, feel the blisters on her feet and the bruises on her body. But the weight of her arms decreased, the strength in her legs returned and she regained her focus. The Dark side would grant her victory, no matter the cost.

Although the agonizing sound produced by her opponent's blade was torture to her ears, Arisia was too drunk on the Dark side's power to notice. To her, only two things currently existed in this universe. The infuriating Mandalorian and herself. The tricks was to not let her fury get the better of her. Rash decisions were rewarded with pain and suffering; she had enough of it already.

The Dark Apprentice met the Mandalorian with her knowledge of Form V, guided by patient determination. She raised her two-handed guard, keeping her blade central and between the two combatants, so she could guide it with a flick of her wrists. No more telegraphed cuts or overextended strikes. Tight and controlled bladework would do much better.

Then, the Mandalorian struck. Arisia caught the high strike with the end of her blade, cautiously guiding it away from her body. While it only glanced her defense, Arisia took a step back as to not be pressured on her back feet. The first strike was swiftly followed by a second, more neutral slash and a third aimed lower. Relying on the Force to reinforce her body, the Sith would let them collide with her blade. Sparks erupted from the collisions, landing on her good arm and penetrating her skin like hot needles.

Arisia followed up on the third strike, keeping them in a low bladelock as the Mandalorian began mouthing off again. "Arisia. her reply was curt, for the Sith finally saw her opportunity. The moment Ursula would break from the bladelock, Arisia's blade would change direction and travel upward, in a swipe meant to take both arm and ear. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

If the Apprentice had analyzed her opponent's stance well enough, her next move would be predictable. A lot of weight had been placed on her right leg. Either to press forward, or initiate a fast retreat. If her counterattack, regardless of it finding its mark or not, forced the Mandalorian back, Arisia would seize the offensive.

Her now raised weapon would come crashing down in a lightning fast thrust, roughly aimed at the area in between the thigh and knee. Her objective was to cut off the Mandalorian's retreat and take away mobility.​

 

[Oceiros Sunstrider]

Objective: Secure the Academy
Location: Bastion Academy Court Yard
Allies: NIO | GA
Enemies: Aradia

Spoiler: Post archive for our story

Location: Bastion Academy Court Yard
Duel Incoming: Oceiros Sunstrider
​

The din of battle rang around her-- shots, explosions, screams. Screams of fear. They were the one thing the training room hadn't prepared her for. The Bastion Academy stood between the city and the Fortress, close to the center. All the best, Aradia resigned, she wouldn't have to go far to make her mark. It was all the other people standing in the way that shocked her senseless.

The civilians.

The families.

Aradia stood in the Academy's court yard, her lips parted as he ground quaked against an unseen attack. In a window beyond a gate, another child stood gaping, their vision set on the street leading toward them. Aradia's attention peeled off the child as a man tore them back, the curtains flapping in their wake. Men in white suits approached down the streets, blasters in hand as they pushed to break in deeper.

All the while they shot. They exploded. They ran over flower pots. She stood frozen as she peered out the gate, watching the swath of trained warriors push deeper into the city that made up her home. She gasped as the outside table of her favorite coffee shop became crushed under the wheels of an approaching tank. The city was falling to the invaders as they destroyed to conquer. And why? They marched on, so close she could see the dirt smeared across a helm.

Anger churned in her gut. She might not understand war, but she did know loss. She would not lose this place too.

A cry pulled from her throat as she left the safety of the courtyard, the teen jumping over a hedge and flying liking a monkey into the nearest solider as they marched on by. It was the shock alone that took him down, the girl small and frail despite how heartily she could now eat at each and every meal. There was nothing to note about her, the girl clad in simple black as she wrestled against the soldier's back. The march halted, all guns swirling onto her and the comrade that served as a shield.

You know she hadn't thought this through.

Her features contorted up at the white helmets that stared her down, her palm raising. "Get out of my home!" Fire exploded out at them all.

​

Objective: Secure the Academy
Location: Bastion Academy Court Yard
Allies: NIO | GA
Enemies: Aradia

War, the thing Oceiros had once feared most. He’d feared war more than he feared the Sith, for it was in war where he’d lost his family. Where he’d lost his famed cousin. Yet no matter where Oceiros hid war always found him in one way or another. War had come to Brentaal, bringing with it death and destruction the likes of which the Jedi had never seen. It was also on Brentaal that Oceiros learned that he could no longer run, that he couldn’t hide, that there was something beyond simply himself. Arcanus wouldn’t have hid, no true Sunstrider would continue to bury their face in the sand while injustice and tyranny reigned around them. No longer was the Epicanthix running from war, now he marched in it.

Alongside the Jedi there were numerous Galactic Alliance soldiers and stormtroopers that moved through the streets. Standing atop a tank, Oceiros kept an eye out across the streets. Smoke and flames billowed to the sky, above the skies taking on the appearance of death. Oceiros could feel it as he looked across the cityscape, the force in turmoil, an odd sensation filling his being. This wasn’t a fight between light and dark, the Jedi weren’t the true reason behind this fight against the Sith. It went beyond that, it was a fight about reclaiming what was once lost. Those who’d once served the Sith returned to claim the home they’d fought for, bled for, and had sought to protect, many willing to do whatever necessary to reclaim it. This world wasn’t the Sith, it showed how little the Sith overlords cared for the planet by not evacuating it, by leaving civilians behind in the midst of a battle they knew was soon to come.

Oceiros’ heart was heavy as they approached the Bastion Academy, he could feel the presence of those within, all those that had been tainted by the dark. Those who’d had their thoughts clouded and manipulated by the Sith believing that it was the true way to live. “Watch your fire, when possible use stun rounds, glop grenades and sonic weapons. We will not be killing children today. Those who resist-” Oceiros stopped, the words he knew he had to say caught in his throat. Never did he think he’d have to do such a thing.


“Those who resist, do what you must.” With the order given, the troops descended upon the Academy, pushing into the courtyard. Legionnaires and Sith alike rushed out to meet the hail of blaster and sonic rounds. Hopping from his position above the tank, Oceiros came down in a cleave that freed a legionnaire of their arm before spinning and thrusting through the shoulder of another.

Making his way through the crowd the epicanthix, did what he could to defend his soldiers as well as incapacitate their enemies. Each slash a regret, and then it came from nowhere. A banshee of the night came flying out landing upon one of the troopers.

“Get her off me, get this queen the fuck off me!” The soldier screeched trying to fight the Sith acolyte off his allies, turning and raising their weapons towards them both.

“Noooo!” Oceiros shouted over the melee charging towards them but it was too late as a bloom of flame came to life. The inferno stretched out swallowing the entire squad including the one being used as a shield, white plastoid armor charred and turned black, the screams of the troopers filled the Jedi’s ears as he could do nothing but watch them fall to the ground and cease moving.

Staring through the carnage and fire to the lone figure who did this Oceiros’ cobalt eyes reflected the flames, and within those eyes was nothing but pity. Raising a hand and shoving it out, a concussive wave escaped the epicanthix’s palm, the flames shunted aside in its wake as it sought to fling the witch back.

Location: Bastion Academy Court Yard
Duel Incoming: Oceiros Sunstrider

Who wouldn't resist? This was their home.

The storm troopers fell dead in the courtyard they had invaded, their once pristine bodies charred and contorted as death boiled them alive. Aradia laid splayed in the center of it all, a look of shock rippling through her soot-stained features. She hurriedly shoved off the storm trooper she had tackled, blisters bubbling across the skin that remained in contact with his still simmering form.

She was not invulnerable to flames, nor the reality of deaths around her.

She had never killed someone before. A subtle quake rippled from her core, a horrified noise catching in her chest. She hadn't meant to do that. They were just-- and she- A sudden shock wave sent her flying backwards, her cry hitting the air as she tumbled like a rag-doll to a stop. Pain knocked her breathless, the burns singing the most poignant song across her nerve endings. She looked up between strands of red to find the lone remaining threat-- a man, his hand extended as he used the force against her. Her blurry vision cleared to a spike of fear.

Oh yes. She had been warned about this. Force users always had it out for each other, that was why this war was here. People with power always came to take what they wanted. She had heard the stories. She knew the truth.

He was here to kill her.

Her fear turned cold, self-preservation kicking in.

A shove of the force sent Aradia flying off the ground, onto her feet. Her clothing hung off her in charred strips, revealing a thin frame marred with scars and puckering burns. The pain of it all fell to the back of her thoughts, her training kicking in.

Her fingers slid to her belt line, where a saber laid in wait.

"Get. Off. My. Lawn!" She yelled, finding courage and strength inside each consecutive word. A snap hiss punctuated her final syllable, the dark red length of her saber sparking to life. It held raised before her in a wordless threat. He was not passing into the Academy without first going through her.

Objective: Secure the Academy
Location: Bastion Academy Court Yard
Allies: NIO | GA
Enemies: Aradia



Standing amidst the chaos, and destruction, Oceiros looked through the fire and black smoke that rose from the freshly roasted corpses. The Jedi looked down at them, out of his peripherals he still saw the banshee that had so ruthlessly snatched the brave men from the land of the living. Men that wanted nothing more than to fight for their home, to once more regain what was theirs. The Sith forcefully conscripted soldiers, used them as cannon fodder, the men and women who served in the NIO knew of this, had experienced this. That was why they fought, why they’d gladly give their lives in perhaps what could be considered the turnabout of the decade.

Kneeling near one of the corpses, Oceiros simply looked at them, their breathing having ceased moments before, their presences in the force having faded away. “Rest in peace brother, I failed to protect you, but I will not let your sacrifice be for not.”

"Get. Off. My. Lawn!"

As the words pierced the air, Oceiros blinked rapidly, tears having begun to well up in the epicanthix’s eyes. “This was never your land, this was never your or any other Siths planet. You've deluded yourself!” Rising from where he kneeled the Jedi turned fully towards the acolyte. Looking upon her Oceiros could see so many things, fear, rage, angst. Someone so young, so twisted and corrupted in their thinking.

“You stole this world from them, they fought for this world, they defended this world and many others. They had families! Mothers, wives, children! And all you can think about is what you wrongly believe to be yours.”

The crackling red blade of the Sith’s caught Oceiros’ attention, he’d come to Bastion knowing a fight was inevitable, that he would eventually be forced to draw his own weapon. Reaching down to his waist Oceiros unclipped the silver hilt from his belt, raising it up and over his head. With a snap-hiss the sapphire blade came to life, to come down tip pointed towards the ground between the two.

“I do not wish for this to devolve into violence but if you leave me know choice I will do what I must.”

Location: Bastion Academy Court Yard
Dueling: Oceiros Sunstrider


Aradia's brows furrowed as he leveled accusations her way.

You stole this world from them. ...They had families! --wrongly believe this world to be yours!

The young teen swayed in place, not a single word making sense. "You're crazy," she breathed, and looked at him as such. The big, bulking jedi lit up their saber. She took a sudden step back. The determination crumbled to a sudden jolt a fear, the girl facing the reality of what she had engaged. There was nothing more unsettling than realizing your fight with death would be against a crazed Zealot coming to storm your school... For the first time since Kaalia Pavanos had bought her freedom, Aradia considered running. It was a primal thought, but it consumed her.

Remember that fear. It will save your life. Her Master's final words were a balm. Aradia struggled to pump air through her through her lungs, the stand off stretching between the two. What felt like hours was actually mere seconds. The jedi's ultimatum was left in the air, the girl wavering against the heat of the smoldering courtyard. It wasn't that she didn't want to face the big, bad, crazy invader, it was just...

A bite of pain pulled at her-- the token coin that had been in her waistband had seared into her flesh, burned in there like a brand. It brought with it the reminder of the owners words, Allyson Locke oddly needed advice reaching her again.

You are strong. Have faith in yourself. Somehow it meant more coming from a stranger. Aradia faced down Oceiros and his bulking form, her fear reminding her what she was here for: Survival. ...And a test of merit. But still! Survival. She took a deep breath, breaking the silence.

"I will not stand down. You will not come into this Academy. Did you not hear me?" The red of her saber reflected against her features, raised higher as she found her resolve. You strike down your foes. You do not hesitate. Came the words of Kaalia Pavanos .

Yes, Master.

She burst forward in a flurry of speed, hair and clothing alike streaming into the wind. She collapsed in on him,empowered by the force as she aimed for a clean decapitation. Don't think. Just do.

"I said get off my lawn!"

Objective: Secure the Academy
Location: Bastion Academy Court Yard
Allies: NIO | GA
Enemies: Aradia


When faced with the wrong-doings of her kind, when given the chance to stand aside, she stood stalwart. Oceiros had heard much about the Sith it only tormented the Jedi so to see how deep the seeds of malevolence had embedded themselves into the young woman. She could’ve been so much, she could’ve perhaps been a politician, perhaps a fighter pilot, or even a Jedi, yet it seemed Fate and the Force had conspired together to place her firmly within the clasps of the Sith.

Escaping the Epicanthix's mouth was a heavy sigh as he resigned himself to a fight he did not wish for. “So be it, I only hope you can forgive me for what comes next.” Oceiros offered. Raising his blade to defend himself he stared onwards at the acolyte the world, no the force itself seemed to recoil away from his touch. The air grew cold around him, his heart seized and time seemed to slow.

From all across Bastion, Oceiros could feel it, the rage, the sorrow, the agony all coming out at once, formed and harnessed in an instant. It all concentrated and focused on one single thing. Death! Whatever was taking place the Jedi did not like the feeling of it. So caught in the currents of the force the neophyte barely had time to register his opponents attack.

Gasping inwards as time returned to normal, his body once more under his control, Oceiros kicked off the ground with his leading foot much like a fencer skipping a step back. The crimson blade of the acolyte skirted mere centimeters from the warrior’s neck, what would’ve been a near instant fatality. If Oceiros had been even a millisecond slower his legacy would’ve come to a definite end.

Azure blade rising its lethal song penetrating the air, the tip pointed towards the exposed woman and thrust towards her right shoulder. When taught to fight one is told to do what one must to survive and bring the encounter to an end. For Oceiros it wasn’t that simple, it would never be that simple. There were Jedi out there who would go to death as the first solution, that would have no issue bearing down upon the acolyte and leaving nothing but a corpse in their wake. Those weren’t the actions a Jedi should take, they wouldn’t be the actions Oceiros would take. He couldn’t bring himself to strike down one so young, so misguided, and with so much room left to find her path back to the light.

Location: Bastion Academy Court Yard
Dueling: Oceiros Sunstrider


She had been so sure, so confident in her training that she didn't expect him to dodge. As she swept in to strike him down, he had stood frozen, distracted... Yet it had changed so abruptly, her blade a millisecond away from passing through his throat... and then he moved. Within just that millisecond left, she had expected success.

It was an assumption that cost.

His sudden twist of his saber struck its mark, her own momentum spearing her to its hilt. Her flesh sizzled against the heat, her blood boiling where it struck.

The shock of it all was so profound, she did not feel as she clattered into him. Her small frame, barely covered by the rags of her burnt clothing, slid down to her knees.

No, came the terrified thought, her body coiling for his killing blow. But he wasn't given the chance.

Energy exploded from her, twisted and driven by her fear as she tried to throw him back. A shield would catch any immediate blow, the light quickly corrupting to black mist. She couldn't die here, she was expected- She didn't-- Instinct drove her, her features wild and panicked as she reached out to the force for strength.

Yet all around them, a sudden betrayal had occurred, NIO men turning on each other and murdering their fellow force users without hesitation. The disturbance in the force could likely be felt all, the balanced tipped to something dark. Aradia was not experienced enough to understand what it meant, she only knew she was moments from being outmatched and killed. And that couldn't happen.

Kaalia Pavanos face came to mind as the acolyete breathed in the power surging around her. The woman was the only kind face in all of the galaxy. Aradia would see her again. She welcomed the darkness, its power frightening yet necessary as the young one leaned into it for the first time.

Her limbs strengthened, slick and shining in sweat, as she found her way to her feet. Her fear over the power diminished as vitality returned to her. There. This wasn't so bad. The crazed pain of the injury fled her, leaving space to think beyond the primal concept of survival. She had a hole in her. She needed to heal. It was a task that had been inaccessible to her before, on Gree. But she hadn't been this strong then-- the city's air ran red with the darkness of the murders-- They continued, the corruption growing stronger. She had never felt anything like it before, the power burning through her veins was so poignant she could-

Her shrill scream hit the air, instinct driving her. The souls of the freshly dead troopers ripped from their bodies, ghostly aspects that were dragged to their beckoner against their will. They stood no chance. With the balance of the force tipped, she was too strong. Aradia's head tilted back, the darkness growing around her as the Valkyrie summoned her first souls into her...

And consumed them.

Their minds flickered against her own, countless voices, thoughts, pleasure, pain, grief-- tearing through her faster than she could comprehend. Her feet left the ground, the girl's mind lost to the terrible power she had tapped into. The skin around her shoulder knit shut. A life for a life. There was only one way a sith could heal, and she had discovered it. The burns left her body, the marred skin drifting from a puckered red to a soft cream. There was no fear. There was nothing but the darkness she had welcomed into her. Anything to survive.

Her feet found the ground as the last of the energy burned through her. The dark lashing of energy slowly calmed, then left her, the courtyard slowly falling to calm. Aradia stood still, unresponsive for the barest moment as the young mind struggled to adjust.

Her eyes snapped open, blood red. Her saber jumped back to her. She met Oceiros Sunstrider gaze with a smile. Gone was the fear. Gone was the girl.

"Apology. Not. Accepted." A vicious yank of the force pulled on him, attempting to impale him onto her saber in turn.

The blade of the Jedi had found its mark, the scent of burning flesh, muscle and fat reminiscent of a fresh Bantha steak. Face grimacing, Oceiros caught the diminutive woman with his left arm steadying her. Looking down to the woman, Oceiros simply shook his head, he’d rid her of her fighting arm, the fight was over. Or at least Oceiros thought it was.

A jolt of electricity went from the crown of Oceiros’ skull down to his feet, the jedi’s body beginning to move on its own accord. It was too late. An invisible blow slammed into Oceiros’ body with strength enough to shatter stone and bend metal. The concussive force lifted the Jedi off his feet, flinging him up and back into a statue within the academy’s courtyard.

Mouth agape the Epicanthix felt the air flee his lungs from the impact. The duracrete statue giving way and crumbling down with the Jedi atop it. Laying upon the now pile of rubble Oceiros’ entire body ached. A stream of crimson retreated down the right side of the Jedi’s head, and his right arm lay limp along the ground. Looking over to the misshapen appendage the padawan willed it to move, only for nothing to happen.

Sapphire eyes turning to focus back on the acolyte, Oceiros could do nothing but watch as what could’ve once been an innocent turned into an abyss. All light in the area seemed to blot out, even the lumas of the street had gone dark. The epicanthix could even see his breath as he looked at the thing before him. No longer could the acolyte be seen as some simple Sith, or some meager acolyte, she was an all consuming darkness now, lost to the force.

Her scream chilled the Epicanthix’s blood, the Jedi stuck in his position, frozen to the spot and simply watching, sensing as those he’d just fought alongside were consumed. The sight brought back memories, memories of when Aeris had come to Brentaal, of staring into the heart of the Netherworld. This was how the descent started, how one became corrupted and gave themselves over.

Searching for his saber Oceiros saw the silver hilt on the ground between him and the Sith. “In the search for power, in your fear of defeat you’ve allowed yourself to be consumed, assimilated. The Sith accuse the Jedi of being weak, of allowing their generosity, their kindness, and rules to guide them. Yet here you are allowing yourself to be bound and controlled.”

Rising to his feet the Epicanthix stared at the woman with still soft eyes, a look of utter disappointment. So when the force pulled him, Oceiros didn’t fight it, he went with it. The strength of the woman tugged on the Epicanthix’s body drawing him near and at the same time the Jedi summoned his blade to his left hand.

Once more the plasmatic blade came to life, this time it hummed with a purpose, with conviction as Oceiros brought it up to clash with the crimson blade, locking the two weapons together. Staring across the blades that spat sparks, Oceiros met the gaze of the woman full on. “Is this truly what you wish to be? Is this what anyone would’ve wished for you to become? This isn't what you have to become.”