Death To The False Emperor (Coup of the Dark Lord, Open to all One Sith)

[Komo]

Location: Palace Grounds
Allies: [member="Darth Mephirium"] [member="Rigor"] ,Team Mephirum

Well, things seemed to have taken an abrupt turn. Snubbed. She was snubbed. That was to put it plainly.

Despite offering her services to the Butcher King himself, Greta had been ignored. Rebuffed by the Sith Lord as he and his gang marched ahead as though she was simply part of holographic commercial that had come up to them in a sudden fashion. He and his followers had simply marched on ahead, resuming the killing in his name, while the Sith knight simply stood there, clearly in shock. By the time she had gotten over the initial shock, they had all but gone. That was clearly unexpected, and had totally gone over her head. Perhaps she had done something wrong? Or maybe it would one of those Vornskr douchebag jerky moments she'd heard so much about.

Now alone once more, her choice had been decided for her once again. It seems like fate had wanted her to side with [member="Darth Mephirium"] after all, flower petals be damned. Despite the flower petals siding with the Butcher King, fate had prevailed and Mephirium had been decided as the chosen one after all. Well, with that settled, Greta wasn't one to stay still for long. She went on the move once more, locating the current position of the Sith Lord and his followers.

It wasn't difficult, not in the slightest. She was already in the vicinity of the palace grounds. All she had to do was follow the trail of dead loyalist soldiers and guards towards the Sith Lord himself. Eventually she had found him, and after some tireless work of convincing the troops on his side that she was on their side, Greta spoke loud enough for Mephirium himself to hear. Hopefully she wouldn't get snubbed a second time. That would truly karking suck.

"Darth Mephirium, my lord. I have heard your call to arms and have come to pledge my allegiance to you. Let me aid you in your case for the throne of the Dark Lord. May you be victorious."

This was it. It was all or nothing.

 

[Darth Vidar]

The courtyard ruptured into chaos. The ground beneath them shattered, loyalists and rebels alike fell from the shrapnel, others lost their footing, many kept their composure by grabbing the nearest stonework for support. The Force Bellow had tore through those closest, while those farthest were unaffected. Darth Vidar descended the stairs, he peered down at a One Sith trooper who lay still, ears bleeding. Such close proximity to the Bellow had killed him.

Then tendrils rippled in the Force. Peering through the cosmic energies, he reached out, feeling. Something was coming, and the Force whispered to him. Here! His hand swung the staff, power couplings whipping about as it deflected a blaster bolt, There! It all happened so fast his eyes could not keep up, but his mind obeyed what the Force whispered, deflecting the blaster bolt with ease. Again! Two more bolts came in, each caught within the power couplings electrical current. Even under a torrent of incoming fire, Darth Vidar kept his cool, he was not given the title of Exotic Weapons Master by the Silver Jedi Order for being an amateur.

More and more blaster bolts came, his staff swinging wildly, seemingly uncontrolled to the untrained eye. Overheated blasters gave him relief, he closed in on the soldiers beset upon him by [member="Bethany Haverford"]. His eyes caught her frame, and his mind narrowed. While his right hand continued its almost autonomous movement to deflect incoming fire, his left hand raised. The Force condensed into a powerful invisible bolt of dark side energy, and he hurled the darkshear spear, guided by the Force. His focus on the blaster fire slackened for a moment, a moment too much. His shoulder swung back, cloak scorched, his skin painfully flared.

[member="Varus Shatterstar"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

"Mister Foyle, I am pleased to hear you are not dead," a hint of humor laced his words, "The loyalist forces are beginning to splinter. Our forces have taken the palace grounds. A few loyalist holdouts are springing up in the buildings alongside of us. Have your men deal with them, and tell them they've served well." The signal cut out.

Mephirium turned his attentions back to the battle. The two Sith Lords that had rose to the conflict were being dealt with by the hunters and the 501st. Aelius had followed orders well - the sapper team was setting a charge in the main doors already. They were a quick little bunch.

A woman's voice drew his attentions for the moment. His gaze to [member="Greta Kohler"], a woman he recognized from Balmorra; they had fought on another. She likely did not recognize him with his mask, but he found the humor in it all the same. It was funny how the galaxy worked.

"I recognize and accept your support," he shouted over the blaster fire, his voice thrumming with pride. His warriors were breaching the gates. The Sith who had sworn themselves to him were victorious across the planet. Soon, Coruscant would be in Imperial control - his control. "Ready yourself, we'll meet the Dark Lord in his throne room soon enough."

But it will be my battle.

It was around that time that the very earth beneath his feet began to shake. The sapper team had done their job. The front doors to the Dark Lord's palace were blown inward, shrapnel and flame flying outward in both directions. Whoever had been standing behind that door was having a very bad day. Judging by the suicidal Graug charge that followed the explosion, that day was about to become much worse.

The last few of those forsaken mongrels had decided the best course of action was to charge through the now-shattered doorway. Most of them were mowed down by loyalist blaster fire. The few that actually survived the idiotic attack managed to take a few of the Dark Lord's finest with them. Either way, they managed to distract those within for the briefest of moments.

Mephirium could not fight the smile that marred his cold visage. He strode up to the main doors, paying little mind to [member="Darth Vidar"] or [member="Darth Hauntruss"]. His warriors would deal with them. He came to a halt a few paces away from the smoking doorway, and let the force amplify his voice.

"The Dark Lord's palace is breached," there was pride in that voice, some would say arrogance, "Those within may put down their weapons and preserve themselves. I will give you this single chance." One could not say he was without some semblance of mercy. "And now, my warriors, it is time we unseated the pretender!"

The 501st began to follow after the Graug. They, unlike the Graug, did not wish to die. One of the sapper team moved to the front, formed a firing line, and shoved half a dozen rockets down the throats of the loyalist forces at the end of the corridor.

Mephirium strode into the shattered palace.

Meanwhile, the Atrisian Legions of the former Sith Lord [member="Mythos"] began to find their way onto Coruscant. They were sworn to serve Mephirium in this battle, as was the agreement between their master and the usurper. These men bolstered usurper holdouts that would have otherwise fallen to the loyalists. Some arrived to help besiege the Dark Lord's palace. Either way, their support was most welcomed.



[member="Greta Kohler"], [member="Varus Shatterstar"], [member="Darth Adekos"], [member="Drana'stair'eno"], [member="Gulliver Foyle"], [member="Rexus"], [member="Aelius Varangian"], [member="Bethany Haverford"], [member="Darth Acarus"], [member="Isamu Baelor"] [member="Darth Ophidia"], [member="The Handmaiden"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

THE DARK LORD'S PALACE
INTERIOR
---
[member="Drana'stair'eno"] | [member="Darth Adekos"] | [member="Darth Acarus"] | [member="Isamu Baelor"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="The Handmaiden"]

So much happening at once.

A few things stood out. The Chiss seemed to be talking to himself as much as talking to them, Adekos was still pondering about addressing the Dark Lord for his lack of direct engagement when it came to the traitors, then there was the girl. Vahla. She smelled of smoke and fire, blood sacrifices and worse. She questioned... their sanity? Their loyalty?

Some of them echoed their own sentiment. The reasons for why they fought on when it seemed that all cards were stacked against them.

"As for me." the Voice of the Dark Lord responded shortly after the Chiss. "I didn't get an invitation. Which irks me, so I fight."

A joke, of course. Punctuated by a deep rumble shortly after - laughter coming from the stomach and running up. Carach had fought for the Dark Lord and the One Sith for a very long time now, since Coruscant and before. It wasn't a perfect situation. But he would rather stick with what he knew and was familiar with, than to throw his cards in with unknown elements.

Baelor exited the Throne Room mere moments later. Almost immediately Ophidia seemed to tense, almost ready to pounce on any number of them, perhaps protective about the Hand.

It was difficult to be a mere mortal in the presence of Force Masters.

"I hear congratulations are in order, Baelor." Carach mumbled with barely the hint of a smile emerging. The promotion to the exalted position of the Hand of the Dark Lord had come as a surprise to him, but who knew the thoughts of the Dark Lord? He looked over to the others. Not exactly an army or anything, some he didn't know, others would barely be able to do anything. But loyalists were loyalists and the Sith Lord wasn't exactly able to exchange or trade in people.

Gotta work with the tools ya got.

"It's going to be a good fight, I feel. I am ready."

 

[Gulliver Foyle]

Gulliver clicked his mic once in acknowledgement, then began issuing orders.

The vast majority of the 501st had spent the battle sitting on their hands. Between the limited space on the plaza and the massive mutant assault that had opened the invasion, they were more or less superfluous. Were, being the operative word, because things were about to get hot and heavy.

The loyalists had attempted to set up strongpoints in the surrounding buildings, much like the 501st's Fisters. They had quickly learned not to tangle with the FOs. Despite their small numbers, one doesn't become a Forward Observer without a serious surplus of testicular mass, and the Fisters fought like madmen. They had taken casualties, but had held their floors against all comers. Once the loyalist forces found their fallen being used as barricades against doors, the called it off and tried to regroup.

The problem with that strategy was, Fisters are quite astute. Their entire job centers around knowing where the enemy is on the battlefield, knowing their strength, and knowing how best to kark them up. It's a job you have to be crazy to take, and utterly insane to enjoy. It involves long hours skulking around near enemy lines, oftentimes behind them. There are few targets of higher value on a tactical level than the enemy's Forward Observers, and they have a long tradition of calling in fire on their own positions if it means taking the enemy with them.

So when one of them transmitted a notional plan up the command data net, Gulliver couldn't help but crack a grin. These guys spent their lives on the ragged edge. The plan was extra crispy handfuls of antidepressant insane. And that was why the enemy would never see it coming.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"ARE THEY KARKING INSANE?"

Staff Sergeant Emile Rordank was not happy with the orders that just hit their datapad. He could see the logic behind it. The plan would let them hit hard and fast, and it was unlikely the enemy would see it coming.

SSG Rordank was a tiny little slip of a man, with dark hair and eyes, olive complexion, and barely five feet tall in his combat boots. Even with all his armor and gear, barely cracked 70 kilograms. What he lacked in mass he made up for with a mind like a bulldozer, capable of brute forcing through even the toughest problems. His chain of command, in their private evaluations, admitted he lacked the finesse it would take to command anything larger than a squad successfully, but give him ten men and a mission and he'd get it done. The solution might be messier than they'd like at times, but their Sith commanders didn't usually mind messy, so long as it didn't make the news.

"Can it, Staff Sergeant," Gunnery Sergeant Natalie Faulkner replied in hushed tones. "Now is not the time."

Gunny Faulkner was, if anything his polar opposite. At 6'2" and 100 kilograms, fair of skin and hair, Faulkner lived up to her callsign of Valkyrie. The Marine NCO was on loan from Fleet. In fact, there was at least one senior Marine NCO on each of the assault shuttles stashed around the palace. Because the Coruscanti cityscape more resembled a bunch of tightly packed ships than the terrain the 501st was used to fighting in, Gulliver had decided that it would be a good idea to send an adviser with each of the assault shuttles. There were a handful of Marines in all of the Fleet with Faulkner's level of experience when it came to hostile boarding, and virtually no one that could match her. Her chain of command had only reluctantly agreed to part with her for the good of the One Sith.

"Up yours, Gunny. Why the kark are you even here?" snarled Rordank. He was not happy to have the uppity queen from Fleet breathing down his neck.

"I'm here because my precious Sith Hounds are too busy up in orbit doing real combat to come down here and do it for your bunch of bleeding pus-"

"LOCK IT UP!" roared 1st Lieutenant Bob Henderson.

1LT Henderson was a rarity in the 501st: an LT that was both liked and respected. Most of the time, he was an unassuming fellow. Short, balding, with a bit of a beer gut and beady little eyes that never seemed to sit still, he looked more like a clerk than a deadly proficient fighter with a thing for out of the box solutions. When he spoke, everyone listened, including the two assholes in front of him.

Gunny Faulkner immediately locked up into the position of attention, her Marine background evident. Despite their slavish devotion to the chain of command, it was rare to see a gunny lock up for an LT, especially one from the ground side.

Rordank glared at his platoon leader, but shut his mouth.

"Yes," Henderson said, "The plan is nuts. But it's just crazy enough that it should work, and will probably let us bring most of our guys back home. So if you two kark sticks are done punching holes in morale, it's time to brief the guys. We're struts up in five mikes. Rordank, PPCs and PCIs, and spread the word to the other squad leaders. Make it quick. Faulkner, I want you to give the guys a crash course on, well, crashing. You're the subject matter expert. Any questions?"

"No, sir."

"I got it, LT."

"Then get to it."

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Five minutes later, scores of assault shuttles came streaking out of the undercity. Each one was assigned a destination and a flight corridor, so there was no danger of them colliding. That was a good thing, because they were streaking up the sides of the skyscrapers close enough to scuff the paint on the underside.

Fighter pilots may get all the credit in the holovids, but if there's one thing no infantryman ever doubted, it's that assault shuttle pilots are nucking futs. There are a few phrases never to be uttered anywhere near a cockpit, and most of them are variations of "Hey, I bet you can't fit a shuttle through there." Because, invariably, the pilots would try, often with sphincter-puckering results.

The plan called for weaponizing that insanity.

The first thing the enemy saw was the underside for the shuttles as the roared past their floors fast enough to rattle the windows. Ordinarily, they would slow, put a few rounds into the transparisteel windows, and let the troops disembark down the boarding ramp. Unfortunately, that would have let the already entrenched enemy forces fire right into the shuttle, giving them free reign to pick off the helpless troops within.

They wouldn't get the chance today.

At predetermined points, the pilots hauled back on the control yokes, hauling the ships around in tight backwards loops. The move was superficially similar to a fighter pilot's Immelmann maneuver, which was designed to let them reverse direction at high speed. The difference was, instead of flying back down the side of the building, they continued through the loop and into the buildings.

Almost as one, the shuttles plowed through the sides at several hundred kilometers per hour. The use of double-front deflector shields and inertial dampers cranked up into the redline made the maneuver survivable for everyone inside, but the same couldn't be said for the unfortunate saps tat found themselves crushed under several tons of starship, lacerated by flying transparisteel, or fried by the shields.

This was shock and awe reduced to an artform. The stunned defenders barely had time to figure out what the kark had happened before the troops in the shuttles disgorged in disciplined attack formations. The soldiers of the 501st were as angry as they'd ever been. They'd been forced to miss most of the action at the palace, they'd been given five minutes to cope with the insanity of what the high command had cooked up, and then they'd been shaken like dice in a cup as their shuttle pilots earned their near suicidal reputations.

They came out pissed.

To add to the shock, the psyops speakers on the shuttles were all blaring the same song at volumes capable of perforating unprotected eardrums. All over the battlefield, the song could be heard echoing off the buildings.

https://youtu.be/YlBnJ0egT_4

[member="Darth Mephirium"] [member="Darth Carach"] [member="Darth Vidar"] [member="Greta Kohler"] [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Lord Sebastian"] [member="Darth Adekos"] [member="Aelius Varangian"] [member="Drana'stair'eno"] [member="Varus Shatterstar"] [member="Rexus"] [member="Cyrus Tregessar"] [member="Darth Pikiran"] [member="Laguz Vald"] [member="Bethany Haverford"]

 

[Soeht]

Two crimson clad Imperial Guards confronted Soeht. He had traveled to the Imperial Palace and somehow gained access. They pointed their vibrostaves at Soeht.

“Identify yourself,” commanded one.

Soeht did not hold a weapon before them or assumed any threatening stance.

“Soeht, apprentice to the Eye,” he replied.

“Good. The Handmaiden is already here as well,” one of the guards informed Soeht.

Explosions around the Imperial City caused the ground to softly quake.

“We need your help though, [member="Darth Mephirium"] has breached the palace,” said the other guard.

Then, the two Imperial Guards turned around and began to head toward the conflict. Yet before they could go far, Soeht grabbed both guards by the collar.

Before they could react, Soeht said:

...​

 

[Sinistra]

A strange alarm sounds over Coruscant that gives emergency instructions and information to the those in and around the temple, as well as on all standard OS emergency channels.

Spoiler

OOC!!

Hey guys!

The civil war is going nicely but we seem to have a couple snags when it comes to attackers and defenders being on the same page. There's a lot of people in the thread and a lot going on.

So from this point forward, we're going to ask that you treat your posts like standard invasion posts. You've all been great about identifying your allies.

We need you to identify who you are attacking and allow them a courtesy of 24 hours to post a reply.

Everyone's excited and everyone wants to get to the good part but let's not trip over ourselves and bypass anyone in our enthusiasm.

If you have questions, please let the staff know.

 

[Via Dolorosa]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RzxUQo0y_yM[/youtube]​

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Kneelng in the forgotten swamps of Dagobah, the traitor once branded by the One Sith prayed to the Gods of her people; whilst the Darkside of the Force flowed around her, enforcing the truth that she was indeed the apex predator of the planet. In her time away from the Sith, the Jedi, the troubles of the galaxy she had sat back and did nothing to preserve her homeworld from falling into the hands of the GA, or did she? She cared nothing for those foolish minds that somehow in their misguided mantras that they could hold Dagobah.​

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Only Dagobah ruled Dagobah, to think otherwise made you look special.​

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Despite her turmoil with the Sith, a love-hate relationship that was birthed over a misunderstanding, on their part, she had hoped one day for a trivial return, yet no truthful reason for her to fly in with black cape flaunting behind her appeared appropriate. Then she felt it!​

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It wasn't the Force that was ripping itself apart but the Darkside was flickering with countless deaths that no Jedi armada could bolster. Something was happening, something she never foresaw despite her strong ties to the Forces of the Darkside. A Civil War. There were many on the side of the Sith she wanted to see impaled on her blade, and though her wish to seeing a culling not seen since the days of 'ol Bane rang loudly in heart, there were friends she still had. To her they were friends, to them she was a bounty; yet they knew were she resided and yet out of respect or perhaps it was fear they never came to claim.​

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And yet a Civil War between the Order she had bled for was taking place, and with the vision of a future she had long yearned her black Vahla heart snapped. She held no allegiance to one side or the other. She would without a doubt intertwine herself into the conflict, but with only purpose.​

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"....and so my beloved your epic vision has finally come to the forefront," Darth Venefica spat gripping her bone infused lightsaber from the mud as she rose from her genuflected position.​

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"....and with your death my long lost love Emperor shall your Sith Order that you preached would stand the test of time finally be culled."​

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Shaking the excess mud from her weapon and her body she smiled passionately, her glazed over eyes watching the hallowed soil of Dagaboh fall to the moist ground like the future existence of the Sith Empire she coldly whispered, "May the rebirth of the Sith now begin....and with the rekindling we shall send you and your countless believers to the grave. Banish me....judge me.....erase my accomplishments and make me obsolete.....oh sweet nourishment from which I once garnished....I come to kill you all."​

 

[Gunther Creed]

Location: The Imperial Palace
Objective: Defend the Palace, and destroy the heretics.
Allies: [member="Isamu Baelor"] | [member="Darth Carach"] | [member="Darth Adekos"] | [member="The Handmaiden"] | [member="Darth Acarus"]
Enemies: The Ilk of Darth Mephirium

The glorious Empire was bursting at the seams...

In truth it hurt, Gunther was convinced to come back to the One Sith after the Old Empire crumbled and he promised himself he would never let another civil war destroy everything they worked so hard for. Now they held the core of the galaxy and power hungry Sith Lords descended on Imperial Center bringing with them every two bit bounty hunter, outlaw, and tavern scum to try and fight trained soldiers. The orders that came down from the top were simple: Defend the palace at all costs, and every traitor must die.

Some of the traitors were in the process of getting into the palace when things would start to turn bad for them. That was when the army's Lohengrin Artillery came online, delivering 16 thermobaric shells per minute into the enemy setting the entire landscape of Coruscant from the view Gunther had of the palace on fire, by the Grand Generals order. There was something to be said about having to shell your own city, fight in your own streets against people who were your allies not very long ago, and it stung.

But Gunther wouldn't be bothered about what he had to do, even as he scoped in on a traitorous Acolyte who was barely 16, and he delivered two shots through the man's skull cavity early on into the battle. But now Gunther had earned a bit of a respite, he had to go see the one man who would have the answers and the pull to deliver them to success. [member="Isamu Baelor"]

"I stand with you, Grand General. Your Lohengrin Artillery are beginning to come online, you can easily tell by looking out one of the viewports as they're the reason the landscape is on fire."

 

[Chaos Maxtor]

Location: The Imperial Palace

Objective: I don't really have a horse in this race. *Shrug* We shall see how it goes.

Allies: ???

Enemies: ???


-------

Chaos sighed as he casually strolled through the palace court yard. He was either somehow unaware of the explosions and violence or indifferent to the surrounding conflict. Instead he seemed more preoccupied with a large mucky map he had gripped with both hands. “I am not indifferent...” he muttered to no-one “just a little disappointed that someone rang the bell for mayhem and I didn't get invited. Well it isn't like I know any of these guys. But what kind of Darksider would I be if I didn't try for a grab of power...or something. Oh! I know, let's check out the emperor's porn collection!”

Crumpling up the map he tossed it aside and began to skip down a wide corridor. The breaching had allowed the strange sith to slip by relatively unnoticed. Or maybe the sith infighting meant they knew he was there but was being ignored. “No this is the first post you have made in this role play and you're just using the breaching as a deus-ex, you unoriginal fat bag of-” Chaos went silent as he gently made his way to [member="Darth Mephirium"] .With a snap of his fingers a strip of plastic with only a bold crimson "C"

“My card” he said to the other Sith handing him the strip.

With a curtsy to the Sith and his men; Chaos started to strolled along with a skip in his step in pursuit of his sithly smut. Maybe later he would punch a guy.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Aelius Varangian"] [member="Darth Vornskr"]

ORBIT

The setting: the bridge of the Chrysalide, probably the nastiest, least understood, and least utilized vessel in the One Sith armada. Admiral Threnody Kun's eyes flicked from the view to the holo tactical display and back again, frequently. Coruscant space defined a target-rich environment. Someone had parked a Dark Blade and a couple of old Lancers beside the Temple itself; she was still waiting back on confirmation as to what side they were on. It appeared that there were at least five sides here, and her fleet -- One Sith, some by way of Primeval and Fringe -- was knee-deep in two of them. [member="Darth Hauntruss"]' entire inquisition fleet was standing off to the side, as was [member="Cyrus Tregessar"]'s force. Waiting to see which way the wind blew, perhaps.

The immediate issue was the cluster of Star Destroyers attempting to take a higher orbit than the Chrysalide and her Wyyrlok flotilla. Those Destroyers, though outnumbered, had fighters that boasted a slight speed and maneuverability edge over the Allegiant-class, even if their weaponry didn't measure up. The enemy commander had been using swarm tactics at some point, deploying mass amounts of fighters to escort a major bomber strike. Battle was fully engaged, forces were entangled. Wyyrloks were decent, and the loyalist fleet under Admiral Kun maintained a serious numerical edge, but a Wyyrlok exploded as Kun watched.

Admiral Kun assumed command. She also assumed that the attackers' minimal assault was a probe and a trap; nobody assaulted Coruscant with a handful of Star Destroyers. As the Chrysalide's immense energy torpedo batteries fired -- a thousand of them, chewing into traitor forces all around -- the Wyyrloks regrouped and disentangled themselves from the mess, as did a significant chunk of the small craft. The traitor Star Destroyers had bunched up to maximize coverage for point defense.

Well, Kun wasn't interested in giving their point defense anything to shoot at.

The Chrysalide began a slow pivot and twist, bringing its prow to bear -- straight up at the tight new formation. The maneuver lined up all one thousand forward-firing energy torpedo launchers. Point defense was useless against energy torps.

She picked the Star Destroyer that had the lowest shields, and fired every torp projector at the same time. The Chrysalide was a miniature Torpedo Sphere in functionality, designed for massive energy torp alpha strikes. It had been built to tackle large, immobile targets -- space stations, for example. Or Star Destroyers that had just idled their engines at short range.

 

[Allana S'hadar]

Location: The Imperial Palace
Objective: Fight alongside the usurpers
Allies: [member="Darth Mephirium"] [member="Greta Kohler"]


Chaos had erupted within the Sith ranks. As was the nature of the dark side, peace could never truly exist among the members of the One Sith. Her cause led her to fight at the side of [member="Darth Mephirium"] and as such she had departed for the Imperial Palace as soon as the Sith Lord's broadcast had been aired. Sensing the inevitable fall of the Dark Lord, Allana would ensure she would side with the victors securing her place among the new regime of Sith. With the disappearance of Darth Azurea, the acolyte found herself without a teacher, so hoping to catch the eye of another master of the dark side, Allana would do her best in the skirmish to display her proficiency as a wielder of the Force.

Having arrived at the staging point, Allana gawked up at the Imperial Palace, revelling in its splendour. It was a shame that it was to be damaged but the young Sith was sure that the victory would far outweigh the damage of one sole building. Drawing her gaze away she turned to face the group of Sith slowly rising in numbers. Ranging in various ranks and species, Allana felt a surge of excitement grip her as she took her place within the small army. She would take part in galactic history. She would help overthrow the Dark Lord of the One Sith.

Within moments the battle began and Allana followed the Sith lord and his followers into the ravaged palace. Her eyes scanned the plaza like a hawk, searching for any encroaching enemies. Hand gripped tightly over her saber, she continued to follow Darth Mephirium. The Sith Lord would lead them to victory.

 

[Bethany Haverford]

For the second time, Bethany grabbed one of the Tal'tor soldiers and shoved him behind cover with her as a few loyalist soldiers pinned them down. It was a short inconvenience, but one she was glad she had seen coming. She stepped out into full view again to rejoin the barrage of fire at Darth Vidar, aiming purposely for the less likely-to-be-protected areas of his body. The HUD of her red and black helmet flashed a warning and she turned briefly only to find the threat of loyalists handled by her impromptu body guards. Her attention swung back to Vidar.

Bethany had not spent a life serving the Sith without gaining insight into their powers and their strategies. [member="Darth Vidar"] was moving. His hand raised noticeably, and Bethany found herself directing her soldiers to get behind cover as she moved to do the same. There was no telling what manifestation of the Force would arise from the Sith Lord's movements.

Her injured leg didn't want to agree with her, sending jolts of agony through her limb with every press of her foot to the ground. She was too slow. The bolt caught her in a glancing blow across her back, and she was sent flying and then tumbling from the force of it. She groaned audibly and rolled over, still in possession of her weapon. Hands lifted her: two of her 501st protectors helped her to her feet and half-dragged her behind the shelter of a broken wall.

"Are you all right, ma'am?"

Bethany panted for a moment, her back in agony. Thank the Force for armor or it would be much worse. She would be bruised, badly, but she could still move somewhat and she was alive. If it had hit her head on, she doubts

"We don't have time for this," she muttered, forcing herself to straighten and grimacing in pain as she half-collapsed back in on herself. "I'm fine. Are the doors cleared?"

To the Captain's credit, there was no hesitation. "Yes, ma'am. Several squads of the 501st have followed Darth Mephirium indoors."

"Then we fall back to the doors and keep anyone else from entering." With a few swift orders, Bethany left a few squads to deal with Vidar, a few to protect the in-transit makeshift hospital, and a few to clean up what few loyalist soldiers remained. The lynchpin was the death of the Emperor. They had to keep that goal in mind. Once he was gone, many problems would clear up before new ones took their places. Bethany limped a few paces toward the palace and caught herself on a wall.

She turned to glare at Vidar. Fine.

"Change of plans. Tal'tor, on the Sith Lord in the courtyard." She selected another squad at random and had them fill the empty slot at the doors of the palace. "Nothing gets in, do you hear me?" A sharp affirmative responded and Bethany watched a squad suddenly break out at a run for the doors, covered by a two-man rearguard.

"Captain?"

"We're with you, ma'am."

"Good. You three concentrate fire on his back; you two, pincer movement from the side. Captain, make a distraction."

The captain removed a grenade from his belt and lobbed it at Vidar's back, letting it roll under his feet.

"Two, one," she heard him murmur just before an explosion rocked the courtyard.

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Darth Vidar]

Darth Vidar didn't hesitate or slow, though his shoulder ached and a quick glance proved his assumption. The skin boiled and cracked, a film peeling off like a bad sunburn. He only delved deeper into the Force, consuming the pain to fuel his rage. He became a hurricane of martial arts, moving impossibly in two and three directions at once. A mixture of the lithe grace of a Twi'lek dancer and the lethal efficiency of an Echani Sun Guard. The staff twirled and spun, snapping and whipping blaster bolts aside, but it was entirely defensive. Darth Vidar had no place to move, and no time to attack.

A tremor in the Force, and he knew to jump. He hurled himself, out of incoming fire, up and over a squadron. He spun, muscles torque, but an explosion tore behind him. Flames engulfed the fabric of his cloak and set it ablaze. The San-Ni Staff fell to the ground and deactivated. He landed, tearing his cloak from his shoulders, his skin scorched and burned. He howled a primal cry of pain. His hand was already on his next weapon, a hilt. He charged the nearest squadron.

He was within an arms length of them when he activated the blade. Aided by the Force, he propelled his body into a vicious pirouette, the light whip was at the mercy of him. It extended to its full three-meter length by the force of his twirl, the Force increasing its speed. The lightwhip became a cyclone-like disc of red hot plasma that spun fatally around him, and he was the eye of the storm. Whatever got in his path would be dissected at the hip.

[member="Bethany Haverford"]

 

[cheshire_kitty]

Location: The Palace
Allies: [member="Isamu Baelor"] | [member="Gunther Creed"] | [member="Darth Adekos"] | [member="Darth Carach"] | [member="The Handmaiden"] | [member="Darth Acarus"] |

Der Jager, Major General von Grimmelshausen’s personal unit cleared a path for him to the palace. The Major General could have personally dealt with these cowardly scum who jumped at the chance to overthrow the Dark Lord himself but it would have been mundane act and a waste of effort. Instead, he had Der Jager deal with the trash as extra training. How better to train than on the battlefield? No amount of practise could teach them what they were currently learning through experience.

The soldiers meticulously slaughtered the rebels careful to not waste a second blaster bolt on the scum and continued their advance. Once Der Jager had completed the task that their Major General had given them, they waited in front of the entrance of the palace for the man to enter with their captain following behind him leaving their vice-captain in charge.

With a strong push, Konrad opened the door into the room where the Grand General Baelor, Major Creed and several Siths were gathered. He watched the Grand General, clad in a prototype armour interrupted the conversation between the Siths.

“The Dark Lord has instructed us to kill the traitors.” The man announced to the others. “Who of you are with me?”

“I am.” Konrad stepped forward with the captain of Der Jager behind him. “I eagerly await your orders Grand General”

 

[Krayzen Dratos]

Location: Space
Objective: Defend [member="Isamu Baelor"]'s fleet, as well as my own. Also help loyalist forces in space defeat Mephidirum's forces.
Allies: [member="Isamu Baelor"] / [member="Ajira Cardei"] / whoever who is a loyalist
Enemies: @Darth Mephidirum and his forces

The Admiral was well aware of what was going on; reports from all over OS Space stated that Coruscant had been attacked. According to what he had heard, @Darth Mephidium had attacked Coruscant. He had wondered why Grand General Isamu Baelor had not ordered for fleets from nearby systems to come and aid the loyalist fleet in Coruscant. That at the moment however didn't matter to him; what mattered to him though was defending the Dark Lord of the Sith, and those that served him.

Admiral Stark served under General Konrad. He had unfortuantely forgotten the other parts of his name, mostly because it was too long to remember. The Admiral was well aware of who the man was; some called him a rising star in the OS Army. To him however, he only served as his superior, and the 60 year old veteran Epicathnix would serve with honor to protect his superior, and the Dark Lord of The Sith.



As General Konrad Von Griehussam was on the planet helping the Grand General, and the remaining loyalist forces, the Admiral was already in Coruscant's orbit, hisall the ships' systems ready, as well as their ships fueled. Lastly, his pilots were already at their ships, ready to be launched if necessary; to put this simply, this was a battle ready fleet.

The Admiral's fleet, a total of 67 ships (which includes three Immortals, and 2 Wyrryloks, 1 Dark Blade Dreadnought) -in a formation- were above Coruscant where the loyalist fleets fought @Darth Mephidirum 's naval forces. The Admiral's fleet was closest to the fleet of Grand General Isamu Baelor. They were pointed at the same direction, and the Admiral was ready to help defend the Grand General's fleet if it it needed to be defended.


As Admiral stark looked from the viewport at the battle that was occuring between Mephidirum, and the loyalist forces, the Admiral was fortunate that he and his feet were safe. No weapon in Coruscant could be able to hurt his fleet, and Isamu's fleet from their position, considering they were well above the orbit of Coruscant, among other reasons that he would not explain at the moment.

"Sir; should we maintain formation, and go and help the loyalist forces?" an officer asked.

"No; however, give me reports on each system including our weapon and shields in our fleet. I also want you to monitor every channel/frequency that is out there; we must maintain a vigilant eye espcailly in this important moments. Also, give me status updates on the loyalist forces, the Dark Lord, General Konrad, and Isamu Baelor, as well as Mephidirum's forces. I want an update of our fleet's battle readiness 30 minutes. Also make sure that our pilots are ready for launch. I also want you to give me a status of any fleets that are just still, or observing the batlte. Make sure to record their transponders. I also want you to keep out for any ships that come out of hyperpspace, and record their transporders immediately. " the Admiral stated.

Within seconds, he began to receive reports immediately, and he quickly looked at them, his mind racing to see if there was anything wrong with their fleets. The Admiral found that the fleet was ready for battle, and all their systems of the fleet were functioning properly.

"I nearly forgot captain; can you order for me my daily hot chocolate please?"



Summary of Action
Jumped out of hyperspace in formation.
Landed next to General Isamu Baelor's fleet, while seeing the loyalist forces and Mephidirum duke it out in space.
Checked/confirmed that all systems in my fleet's ships are ready.
Ordered for all my pilots to be ready for deployment if they need to be deployed.
Ordered a cup of hot chocolate

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MEANWHILE​

Location: Dark Lord's Palace
Allies: [member="Konrad von Grimmelshausen"] / [member="Isamu Baelor"] / All those that fight for the Dark Lord
Enemies: @Darth Mephidirum and his forces.

​

As Major General [member="Konrad von Grimmelshausen"] curved a path toward the palace and soon met the Grand General, the Anzat Acolyte, Krayzen Dratos, with this personal armor stood by his side. The Anzat also had his men with him, each of them trained, and ready to fight the Dark Lord's enemies. On his armorweave belt, Krayzen hosted two lightsabers, a Sil 50 sonic pistol, and a Mandalorian ripper pistol. On his right holster, he hosted a FWG-5 Flechette Pistol, and on his left holster, he had a particle beam blaster pistol. Each had variety of metals(titanium, durasteel), but they most notably had darrolian alloy(except the lightsabers and Sil-50 sonic pistol). Thankfully, titanium was a ligh, but strong metal, giving him. Lastly, the duralsteel protected hsi weapons from heat, and cold. It was a good thing, at least in Krayzen's opinion.

"My men and I are also ready to serve the Dark Lord of the Sith, and those that follow him." he stated, nodding at Grand General Baelor.

(Lets have a fun battle. )

 

[Rexus]

Location: The Palace
Objective: Aid in the betrayal
Enemies: Them there loyalists
Allies: Mephirium/Usurpers


The gates were breached in short order and fire was dispensed upon the loyalists. It was utter chaos. Rexus, now a ghastly effigy of senseless violence, approached [member="Darth Mephirium"]. Rexus still felt the lovely yet bitter touch of pain, it's haunting grasp all encompassing. In the time that had passed since his charge, the pureblood had acquired several more kills though none of the slain were of any real renown. He wanted to keep going. He wanted to drown the loyalists in their blood of their own dead. Sadly, it wasn't going to happen. Not at that moment. The Sith let out a raspy cough, the crimson flecks of blood situating themselves upon his right hand. Wordlessly, Rexus took up position behind his new lord.


Soon.


Rexus wasn't one to hide his thoughts behind a mask or facade. He was impatient and he couldn't wait to delve even deeper into the palace. Gods willing, Rexus would walk into the Dark Lords sanctum and assist with the assassination itself, even it meant life or limb. Truthfully, it was all of the chaos currently occurring that opened Rexus' eyes to the truth. He enjoyed the chaos and the fighting. All of it was a gateway to a power Rexus felt boiling within him. When he was wounded earlier, he moved faster and hit harder than he normally did. Still, Rexus was an acolyte and his usage was novice at best. To that end, Rexus crossed his arms and allowed himself to rest. He would wait for a time unless given orders. He was an asset no matter how insignificant and he wouldn't allow himself to be wasted for something trivial.

 

[Via Dolorosa]

Location: Dark Lord's Palace
Allies: None
Enemies: Everyone

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iyd8dY8rRtA[/youtube]​

​

​

​

The fleet, charged by her, knew what was expected of them; since the the Sith Lady knew both naval tactics and ground tactics better than most, having studied under the lost one, the great Sith that had been more than willingly to teach her the art of war had bestowed his knowledge upon her before she eradicated him.​

​

"You're sure this the proper course of action," Admiral Fine asked the necromancer.​

​

Turning her back on the defunct officer to stare into the glorious stars felt anger, unadulterated and well placed, raised her left hand up. Admiral Fine clutched his throat, the air systematically being drawn from him, alerted the bridge to the notion that she meant business.​

​

"Indeed."​

​

Closing her lone hand into a ball of anger snapped Admiral Fine's neck, ending his tenure as Admiral.​

​

"Admiral Howard," she said promoting the next in line to the warship's superior, "Execute plan 9."​

​

With a nod from the newly appointed officer's head, the com officer working in tandem with the Sullust that came highly recommended began jamming the Sith's computer systems. The Sith may be the most powerful entity in the galaxy, but they were still just as a predictable as a dehydrated bantha in search for a water source. In minutes, the Sith's computer system was compromised and the warship, with the entire Black Rose fleet in waiting, were ghosts on the grand stage of the greatest haunting to ever be displayed.​

​

"We are dropping out of hyperspace undetected, mi'lady."​

​

"Good. Very good, indeed. The moment we drop out....launch all shuttles on the birds" Darth Venefica announced heading toward the exit of the bridge. "...and send the encrypted transmissions to traitor one and two at once. Then bogie out....do not engage the Sith fleet."​

​

Darth Venefica was unsure where the loyalities of both [member="Darth Ferus"] and [member="Darth Vaildra"] lied these days, but despite their own rivalry against one another she knew their love for this Emperor could unify them to see his death through. Then, as she watched like a little giddy girl, would witness these two friends of hers hack and slash themselves apart.​

​

Several shuttles where launched, most not surviving but playing their role of decoy outstandingly, cruised toward the capital of the Sith Empire. By the fates of her Goddess, her shuttle landed upon the planet, and for the first time in months, the necromancer that started off as a lost girl from the swamps of Dagobah had finally returned home; with murder on her mind.​

​

"....and now the judgement of death that was once bestowed upon me will now be reflected upon you."​

 

[Darth Eversor]

Location: Palace
Objective: Betrayal
Enemies: Loyalists
Allies:[member="Darth Mephirium"], [member="Rexus"] and whoever else.

​

"This is your day, Satsujin-sha. Prove your worth to this Empire, be the Hand you were groomed to be. Do not disappoint."​

Appearing from the thick of the 501st's middle, a mysterious and cloaked figure strode at the side of his Dark Lord. His demeanor resolved, collected. Each footstep he took was but a reminder of how far he had come, how his whole childhood was to lead to this very circumstance. With no voice, Satsujin-sha was merely a tool to reshape and construct a future with control, progression, and discipline. Those without such qualities did not belong in the galaxy, among the twinkling stars. Their eyes would be gouged from their skulls, for it was an insult to look upon the same stars as the insignificant, the undeserving. There was no room for error. Hand on the hilt of his blade, the Sith's Hand readied himself for combat. He would surely put on quite the display to prove his worth and give optimal results. Those that strayed into the Atrisian's path would be cut down without mercy or hesitation.

Emerging into the palace was a strange feeling. Satsujin-sha was not a Sith himself, nor did he have any control over the Force. He still felt connected somehow, his soul residing within the inky shadows of the Imperialistic dogma that relentlessly calculates the end of worlds and species. It almost felt like home. Being no stranger to the types he was assisting, Satsujin's father was a stern and strict Moff within the Empire's ranks. A no-nonsense cold-hearted administrator that demanded respect and the complete submission of those that did not wish to bend. From this Satsujin-sha learned well. This was his honor. While walking, the Hand noticed a loyalist playing dead. In one fluid motion, the warrior relinquished a dagger from his vest and threw it directly into the handicapped defender's skull. Eyes set forward, the entourage continued until they would more than likely be interrupted again.

In the end, silence remains key. And it shall blanket this palace once the job was done.

Silence is golden.

 

[Placeholder 04]

Location: Palace

Nearby Allies: [member="Bethany Haverford"], [member="Kiro Masahide"], [member="Aelius Varangian"], [member="First Daughter"], [member="Allana S'hadar"], [member="Rexus"], [member="Greta Kohler"], [member="Rigor"], [member="Abelain Narv'uk"], [member="Varus Shatterstar"], [member="Julian Valentine"], [member="Ghorua the Fish"], [member="Grozkalla"], [member="Laguz Vald"] [member="Thrukk Gulpdar"], others...

Nearby Enemies: [member="Gunther Creed"], [member="Drana'stair'eno"], [member="Darth Adekos"], [member="Darth Acarus"], [member="Isamu Baelor"], [member="Darth Ophidia"], [member="The Handmaiden"] others...

Objective: Become the God Emperor of Mankind and slaughter the xeno-loving scum Put down Captain Dark Side. Gain control of the palace.



More had come to his side than he had initially expected. In truth, Mephirium had not expected victory here. He had two goals, neither of which overlapped. The first would be to destabilize the One Sith, which would in turn make it more difficult for the beloved Dark Lord to spread his cancerous influence across the galaxy. This goal would likely result in Mephirium's own death.

The second, and more desirable of the two, was for him to gain control of the One Sith. From there, he could reestablish old imperial traditions and shift things toward a more...productive setting. The Sith needed to struggle; it was the onlu way they could grow. They did not, however, need to be lashing out at one another's throats at every opportunity. The Dark Lord ha achieved this, but he'd gone too far toward the extreme of stagnation. An empire required ambition to grow, and that ambition would begin to disappear among the Sith eventually. Mephirium hoped to find a strong middle-ground, and hopefully revive some of the older successful Imperial programs.

Shifting the populace from worshiping the Dark Lord as if he were a god would be the first step. Consolidating what would be borne from his death would be the second. As Mephirium's feet desecrated the holy ground of the Dark Lord's palace, he decided that simply ending the Sith overlord's life would be a victory.

"Find the loyalists' leaders and subdue them. Kill them if you must, but I would like them alive." His gaze momentarily passed over those that stood by his side. There would be a number of powerful Sith Lords guarding the Dark Lord, and it was quite likely his retinue of loyal Imperials would be with them.

What a waste for Imperial lives, to be lost fighting against a cause that only sought to elevate their place in society. The Dark Lord had certainly succeeded in assuring blind loyalty in the eyes of his subjects.

"Bethany, Aelius, take Satsujin-sha and apprehend the Dark Lord's military leaders and his Sith bodyguards." He turned his gaze to the Sith that had pledged themselves to him just moments before. "Join them. The Dark Lord may die, but if his command structure holds, we'll have civil war without end."

The Graug and their 501st commanders moved as a vanguard against whatever forces might await within the depths of the temple. Mephirium walked behind them, a retinue of loyal 501st commandos flanking him on either side. The Dark Lord felt like a living nexus within the force - the 501st and his allies would clear the way, and Mephirium would have no trouble finding his quarry.

You'll not defeat me again, wretch.