Invasion Death's Sting: SJC Invasion of BotM held Lao-Mon

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Gear: Equipment: Armour, Hold-out Bolter, Boltgun, Grenades, Sidearm, Sabre, Ion Paddle Beamer, Cryo-Ban Gun.
Darth Maleva

The dead had been put to rest.

Lightning crackled, illuminating the smoky sky. The Sith's shriek, like a banshee's wail, pierced the air. The darkness was so strong it was palpable. And lightning botls rained down from the sky. The aura of darkness made Elpsis feel sluggish and a bit dizzy. Her limbs felt heavy like lead. Still she persevered. She drew the Force into herself, raising her lightsabre to shield herself from the onslaught. And then there was pain. A portion of the lightning was absorbed by her, being channelled into her lightsabre. Smoke coiled from her cybernetic arm as the enchantment pulled the electricity into it to negate it. But there was only so much she could assimilate.

She cried out in pain. And she felt pain, fear and anger from her team. Still fighting Sith goons and some zombies, they found themselves under attack from the storm. She could dimly hear Lin rallying them while Hazania, Nyssa and even wounded Diona tried to raise a shield. These were her people. She needed to defend them.

Pull back, get distance. Lightning scorched her face, and she dropped down to one knee, her wounded leg howling in pain. She raised her robotic hand to catch a bolt of lightning in her palm. Then there was a sudden, blinding pain in her chest. It felt like everything around her was spinning. She could not concentrate enough to see through the Force. Her body felt weak, and limp. The cracks etched into her face burnt, like lava threatening to expand outward.

Then the shock to her heart passed. She breathed in deeply. Lightning bolts continued to flash across the sky. Ahead of her, she perceived the Sith, crimson blade in hand. Ironically, she did not see the beckoning eyebrow due to being blind. Inferno held in a bruised hand, Elpsis took a step towards her, limping. The Force writhed inside Elpsis, sucking in the dark power that was trying to strike her. Building up for something. Clearly a large fireball of fury and vengeance.

Except not. Robotic fingers drew her hardsound gun and she fired. Once, twice, three times. Concentrated sound waves could not be blocked by a lightsabre, but were great at breaking bones, rupturing organs and causing disorientation. And a single super-heated, super-accelerated piece of shrapnel soared towards the Sith's skull - from behind her.

 

[Darth Solipsis]

​

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
Tartarus-Class Battlecruiser, Throne Room


P O W E R​

The Dark Lord of the Sith compressed all that had been snared in his vile web, his ethereal grip squeezed with crushing force. He wanted to hear the snapping of bone, the crumbling of vertebrae as he let his hate swell. The Elder had enough of his uninvited guests, they would bend or break before him, there was no other way, no other scenario. Those who lacked the vision of the Grand Plan of the Sith and the Final Dawn that approached were to fall in line or be destroyed, a second genesis was coming and there was nothing they could do to prevent it's fulfillment.

Even as the trio of heroes combated the Dark Lord in the real time, a battle of Light and Dark ensured in the metaphysical. A titanic clash between the Ashla and the Bogan, a hurricane with the combatants centerfold in the eye of the great storm. This was the true nature of the Force, the ugly face of balance. Chaos. Perhaps the sanest individual in the chamber had truly been the Iron Imperator himself Rurik Fel , the devout warrior of ORDER. The Elder had seen the cycle again and again replay events, different actors playing similar roles in a never ending game. There was no winning in this age of chaos, that is the Imperials failed to realize, what the Jedi and the decimated Old Sith failed to understand.

The slate needed wiped clean.When the coming purge finally washed away the last remnants of this wretched galaxy, he would build anew.

A perfect galaxy, a thankful galaxy.

He felt the tug of harmony, a state of peace that stung at the preternatural senses of the Dark Lord as it reverberated with a calm that soothed the conflict he fed on. The Jedi Grandmaster, this Kiara of the SIlver Jedi, phased into the noncorporeal. Slipping from his invisible grasp onto the floor below, focused she immediately called her weapon to herself and charged into the fray without a hint of hesitation. The Force carried her like a blur, a unnatural burst of speed that left her with a sudden pull onto the weapon of Solipsis as she closed in, seizing the yorik coral saber from his vile grasp.

The ignited blade of the Jedi came too, surprising the Dark Lord who's body moved as his preternatural senses instinctively pulled his body back with a shift to the side. Yet again the augmented speed of his opponent was beyond the capabilities of the physical shell he resided in, if any at all could avoid such a blow at all. His human body could not dodge the strike completely, the slash towards his midsection came to with a solid hit followed by a kick to his hip aimed at his abdomen. His grip over the room suddenly faltered, releasing all in his grasp.

The Dark Lord twisted and spun out as he soared back, a gash across his torso searing with immense pain. Just narrowly avoiding bissection, yet suffering from an impressive blow. The Elder snarled in immense pain, he immediately recalled the surprise blow from Halketh on Ilum, a slight pain filled chuckle escaped him. He had avoided to worst of the attack but had been too focused on delivering his wrath upon the room, in his hubris he had left himself open. He had left himself unable to avoid all three points of contact in the Jedi's play. Clever girl.

He strained to rise as he focused inward, letting the pain and anguish flow through him like a lightning pole. The Force would sustain him, heal him even, but at a cost. The Dark Side was unnatural, it corrupted more than it healed. There was a price to everything, he would feel the flesh pull and mend forcibly, the wound aching in enhanced pain as it immediately scarred with permanent suffering guaranteed to last in place. Such was the price of power, such was the cost of Bogan's favor. The Elder exhaled audibly, a sense of internal relief washed over him.

He gripped his side for but a moment and lifted his hand in reflection, inspecting the five digits attached to his palm as they pulsated from the throes of the Dark Healing. His eyes snapped to, sulfuric hate igniting the yellow hues in a sinister glow as he set into motion with a charge of his own. Unarmed, injured, and now once more outnumbered as his enemies were freed from his grasp. The Dark Lord realized the threat posed by the Grandmaster and resolved to end it once and for all.

The Elder rushed in, closing the distance. The pain building upon itself with each step, he let it fuel him into motion, empower his hatred. His eyes watched for any sudden blows, letting the Force flow through him with fluid motion to his body. Duck, weave, whatever it took. His hand outstretched, calling upon the empyrean to seize the day. In the not-so far distance a weapon spurred, a heavy poled axe dropped by one of his faithful Sith Sovereign Protectors. He had gotten close, left himself open to suffering at the hands of the enemy who held not only her own weapon but his. He'd have to survive with this sudden closure of space, this surprise move of his until the weapon came to, summoned to his hands as he clenched it tightly.

Spinning, he lifted the midsection of the long poled weapon and attempted to strike the Jedi face first. Seizing the moment, with no hesitation whatsever, the Dark Lord of the Sith jolted his body and with grim resolve swung back.

His blade moved to plunge into the gut of Kiara Ayres.

Rurik Fel | Kiara Ayres | Bernard of Arca​

 

[Kiara Ayres]

Objective: 3 (ish)
Location: Maw ship thing
Allies: SJC | GA | NIO | Rurik Fel | Bernard of Arca
Enemies: BotM | Darth Solipsis​

With each righteous step towards her fate, her resolve only grew more potent. Billions of souls rested upon the shoulders of her and her present allies; one of whom need strike down the Dark Lord and all that he represented. As she closed in on him, their intertwined fates would reach a crescendo but for one it would come to an abrupt end.

The Grandmaster would not stoop to his level. She would not fall into the pit of hate and anger than he had so easily embraced, instead remaining a stoic presence by which she would find strength in the Light side of the Force. Though the darkness emanated from him, it would not touch her.

From diplomat to warrior, the once unknown Jedi had risen from the world of politics to find one of the deadliest Sith in the galaxy at the tip of her blade. She had spent a lifetime professing that peace was the Jedi ideal but was equally as prepared for the breakdown of communications that often happened in the name of peace.

With a blade in each hand and an unarmed opponent, there was usually a controversial decision to be made by any attacking Jedi at such a point but there was no hesitation from the Grandmaster, for she would strike him down. Today was not a day to show the benevolence of the Jedi. Today, duty eclipsed mercy.

After his hasty, but expected, recovery, she strode to meet him halfway, weapons raised in an offensive stance as she did. Once within range, one blade would seek his heart while the other would attempt to subdue any defence but the sudden calling of an unseen weapon into his hands put her own fight for survival back on the cards.

Kiara grimaced and was knocked back after the sudden, unexpected strike across her chin and nose but it was nothing compared to the agony that followed. Momentarily stunned, she had no defence against his following attack which would leave her impaled on his blade. Her blades extinguished as the hilts as both weapons clattered to the floor while their wielder's shaky hands instinctively reached for the wound in her abdomen. In shock, she pulled a hand away to see blood dampening her hand and sleeve.

Unable to stand any longer, she fell to one knee and put a bloody hand out on the floor to steady herself but still couldn't support her own weight so crumbled onto the floor, one hand still laid across her stomach. Though one of the weapons was still within reach, she made no attempt to retrieve it. She knew her chances had been spent.

Her destiny had been the accumulation of generations of Jedi and a family shattered by war. She knew not what fate had befallen her younger siblings and cousins, all lost in some way to the perpetual war on the Sith. Even as oblivion threatened to consume her, she knew she had been one of the lucky ones.

Her eyelids grew heavy, her spirit weary of its worldly constraints which kept it unduly tethered to the physical world. As the world closed in around her, she never once faltered from the side of the Force she had devoted her life to. Not even fear threatened her throughout her final battle.

Throughout her tenure as Grandmaster, she had been witness to war decimating planets, suffocating her Order, her people. In times of strife, she had shared with them her belief that the lives of those lost were not to be mourned but celebrated, for they died in righteousness and all would join them in the Force one day.

One day, they would join her there too.

And they would finally be at peace.

 

[Rurik Fel]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
NIV ANTARES DRACO
Iron Skin | Lightsaber
Allies | NIO | SJC | GA | Kiara Ayres Bernard of Arca
Enemies | BOTM | NSO | Darth Solipsis

DOMINATION
​

Iron clashing iron. There was no denying the indomitable will of the Dark Lord's assault. Cut from a cloth different from his contemporaries. The hubris of Prazutis and Carnifex was lacking from this god of chaos that ran rampant before him. The crimson shards of lightning paid a heavy toll on his already tortured body and soul, rupturing him to his knees as heavy metal footfalls struggled to continue further in his march. He collapsed to the metal floor as the darkness seeped into his mortal shell.

For the moment, he was down for the count.

He sought but a split moment of reprieve as Solipsis's focus shifted from the ironclad scion of warrior to the paragon of light at his flank. Thus began the truest of duels of fates. As much as Rurik was the valiant warrior, the master swordsman and champion of his Empire. There was no demeaning this spectacle. The summation of all the Galaxy's sins and woes. The brightest light and the blackest night in furious conflict. What was Rurik to this crossing of blades and fates? The man of iron, so indebted to mortal will and strength he seemed lesser than the two in that moment of the clash.

Regardless, he sought reprisal in a furious intervention to bring low Solipsis. But his initiative was thwarted immediately, the brutalist polearm of a Sovereign Protector swinging down and toward Rurik's iron skull cap. It failed to make purchase, instead digging into his shoulder with a righteous bite of metal into metal. His eyes snapped open, the argent blade came alight again and with a single swipe, the head was clean from the shoulders.

He rose to his feet to view the horrid coup de grace. Weapon plunged into the abdomen of the Grandmaster, she fell into her eternal rest before his very eyes, becoming one with the Force in her just and valiant end. But Solipsis still stood, the blackest night vanquishing the light. And now- there was nothing to face him but enduring will, unbreakable iron.

The virtuous suffering of the Jedi would not be enough to fell darkness this day.

Discipline.

He took up the jagged halberd of the Protector he wrought down by his own blade before heaving it through the air with a lethal speed projected through his clutch of the Force before he intervened in its wake with a breakneck speed, his saber clutched in his right hand move to swipe and lunge toward Solipsis's abdomen as his other collalesced a sphere of punishing energy in Kinetite before flailing it toward Solipsis's skull.

In spite of crimson lifeblood trickling from his fresh wound, he utilized his newfound rejuvenation to channel ferocity once more. Hatred and pain made manifest in cyclic brutality. Pain an illusion, any physical hindrance wrought unto him nulled in these vital moments.

As combat gripped the entirety of this monolithic vessel, soon the time would come to bring about its cataclysm, its shattering. The throne of chaos would be ripped asunder and this supposed dark lord would be brought low.

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

IT'S ALWAYS DARKEST BEFORE THE DAWN...​

Location: Lao-mon Obj 1

Spoiler: Lightsabers

"ELOAH" (Primary - Long Handle)

"ELOHAI" (Secondary - Long Handle)

Spoiler: GEAR

Comm-link, Rebreather, Custom Robes, Battle Armor,Toraynor-Henkan(mind crystal added)Advanced Jedi Utility Belt

Spoiler: STARSHIP/COMPANIONS

Starship: Starlight Sentinel, (Jedi Interceptor in landing bay, Dilorian and Bike both in cargo bay)
Companion: Astromech R01R - "Roller", Pilot droid Mu51c - "Music"

Tag: Kyrel Ren , Anyone in the nearby area

The monster was about to make his move when suddenly time slowed exponentially to a standstill. He felt something, or in this case, someone fall. The big guy learned the hard way about attachments when it came to combat long ago. He learned how to separate himself when the lightsaber was drawn, but still, there were few times, Ala Quin was one who took his senses with her and it cost the both of them, multiple times. Caltin always worked on this aspect of himself and allowed hope to yet again triumph over experience. He thought he was "turning the corner" when he felt the loss of Master Ayres. If she fell quickly, that would be one thing, but it was slow and painful for her. He didn't like that...

... at all.

He didn't reach out, his eyes remain locked on the undead Master of Ren in front of him, the skies did not even change, but suddenly large and powerful bolts of lightning emanated out of thin air in the sky and slammed into the ground around them. If a Sith, or a Sithspawn beast was in the way, then that was their fate. Caltin had made his peace with his actions and outlook before anyone on the planet, and few in the galaxy were even born. The monsters, the beasts, the undead horde, all of them, were too dangerous. There was no holding back now, he understood this. Caltin did not want the life he had once lead any more of always fighting, but it looked like that life was coming back to him.

He accepted this as he knew exactly what they were, and what the Brotherhood of the Maw was capable of.

Did they know that about him?

... YET THE DAWN ALWAYS COMES.

 

[Darth Maleva]

Allies: Darkness
Enemies: Light | Elpsis Kerrigan
「is it really a surprise if i'm playing with your mind」

The sound wave burst across the field, overpowering the storm. The high frequency reverberated off of Maleva's eardrums. Heightened senses were turned against her as her hands moved to fumble at the sides of her head while she stumbled. Confusion overtook calculated chaos, bolts sizzling out before they formed. It was familiar- for an instant, she recalled the scene above Csilla, but knowing it did not make it any easier to combat. Then came the shrapnel. Her movement had been just enough to live, but the pain was immense. It became worse as pressure built around the cauterized wound in her neck.

Staggering sideways, the sith lord misstepped in her disoriented state, losing her footing amongst the rubble. Her fall was not a graceful thing- minor abrasions were added to her growing list of wounds. The storm continued to falter as Maleva worked to tame the agony. A useful thing that would make her stronger, but it was primal, and the sith lord imagined something serious may have been struck as it refused to heed her call. The ringing in her ears slowly began to quiet, enough for her to concentrate. Breathing through the pain, she pushed herself up with her hand still around the saber, looking for danger with her eyes and the force.​

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Gear: Equipment: Armour, Hold-out Bolter, Boltgun, Grenades, Sidearm, Sabre, Ion Paddle Beamer, Cryo-Ban Gun.
Darth Maleva

Elpsis had walked towards the Sith Lord. Or rather limped. Her injured leg was given her hell. The damage caused by the tendril of darkness had taken its toll, forcing her to more or less drag it and lean on her other leg. The storm was dying down as the magic that had powered it receded, but lightning still flashed on the horizon.

They were weaker than the onslaught from earlier, but Elpsis nonetheless winced in pain when one of the bolts struck her. She staggered, pain shooting through her, and almost tripped over a charred corpse. Sweat was dripping down her face and back. Her face had already been badly scorched. So had her flesh hand. Blood dripped from where her ear had been.

There was still some distance between them, but she could perceive the Sith ahead of her. And feel that she was in the throes of pain, but defiant. But Elpsis could not keep things up for much longer. She needed to finish things - and soon. The power she had absorbed during the storm writhed inside her. At this stage it was physically painful. Her breathing had intensified, and she could feel her heartbeat racing.

She felt like she was burning up from the inside. So she let it out, holstering her gun. The stolen energy was poured into power. So some of the pain she was feeling - though far from enough to actually relieve her body of it. This manifested in form of a intense, blazing fireball that her robotic arm hurled towards the Sith.

 

[Amelia Venthyra]

Location: Lao-mon, Goshen War Camp
Gear: 1 Lightsaber (Purple) | 1 Lightshoto (Purple) | Jedi Robes
Tags: The Mongrel

It was a bit unfortunate that Varkas didn’t fully accept her offer, but Amelia understood that Varkas didn’t want to betray what they stood for. As the battle raged on from all directions, Amelia nodded her head in agreement.

”I understand, and I respect your decision. I hope that fate deals a kinder hand to you in the future.” Amelia genuinely meant her words as she reached out with her empty hand. Her left hand, notably shaking however slight, mostly due to the drain in her own reserves and part of it was due to the burnt flesh on her left forearm. It wasn’t like she was impervious to pain since it hurt like hell, but Amelia still keeps the front of a diplomat. If she can save even one life, or two even in this case. Then that was a success in her eyes. If allowed, Amelia will take the key into her hands and will take two slow steps back to ensure that she wasn’t going to whip out a lightsaber. If there was anything Amelia wouldn’t do, it was to betray her own word of promise.

She glanced down at the key for a moment before shifting her eyes back to Varkas and Androk.

”Should you two ever change your minds in the future, my door is always open. Until then I pray that fortune favors you.” Not that the Knight believed that they would change sides in the future, but if there was anything Amelia could do was to keep the window of opportunity open for their next encounter if they should meet again. With a nod of her head, Amelia will begin to take her leave for the slave dens. Where she hoped that Varkas gave her the right key as she’ll begin working on setting them free.

 

[Darth Maleva]

Allies: Darkness
Enemies: Light | Elpsis Kerrigan
「is it really a surprise if i'm playing with your mind」

The sudden outburst of flame gave her only enough time to react. Her hands flew upwards to rest in front of her face. The force gathered around them, obeying its only command- protect. What energy she managed to conquer shielded her hands and face, saving them from further mutilation, but affliction greeted the rest of her body like an old friend. Her teeth ground as she poured the pain into the magic. Today was not the day she died; that she knew. The witch had given her the most precious of gifts, allowing her to cast aside the chains of complacency and stagnation, reclaiming her power. Today, there would be requital.

The flames died, and Maleva wasted not a moment. Suffering was weaponized. She encouraged the sharp twist that shot through her neck and shoulder blade as she reached for the blaster at her hip. Relief flooded her when she realized the holster had shielded the barrel from most of the battle- the grip was warped, but it made no matter. She raised it, expecting to shake, but her hands did not betray her. Once, then twice, the blaster kicked as she fired.

Deadly reflexes spurred towards the shallow breath mere feet from her. Tentacles snaked out from her cheeks, their intrusion upon the padawan so sudden his eyes barely flickered before they closed once more. Though her strike was quick, feeding couldn't be rushed- yet Maleva felt the sense of urgency all the same. She was forced to refuse the lovely siren's call of the soup. It grew louder as she fed, yet she focused instead on the force, absorbing the dark energy as her body began to heal.​

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Gear: Equipment: Armour, Hold-out Bolter, Boltgun, Grenades, Sidearm, Sabre, Ion Paddle Beamer, Cryo-Ban Gun.
Darth Maleva

Elpsis was not in good shape. Her body was in a ton of pain. But she had enough energy and sufficient reflexes to respond to the whine of blaster fire. Precognition kicked in, and she swung Inferno. Her crange-coloured lightsabre cut through the air. One bolt was batted away; another grazed her. Elpsis clenched her teeth together. She could manage.

Meanwhile, the Sith Lord had taken her attention off her and was feeding, having seized a poor Padawan with her tentacles. Unlike the Sith, Elpsis could not heal injuries or restore lost energy by sucking the life out of others. She could only endure and, to a very limited extent, suppress her pain. Jedi might have proclaimed that she should free the poor apprentice. A hippie peacenik might have said she should drop her weapon and beg the Sith, who was aiding a genocidal death cult, to let go. Elpsis knew this to be foolishness.

She was a soldier. The Sith's victim was dead one way or another. So she did not waste time wavering. Instead she called upon the Force inside her, summoning a telekinetic blast meant to slam into the Sith and swat away into the nearest pile of rubble to cut off her efforts to restore herself. And ideally break some bones.

 

[Darth Solipsis]

​

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
Tartarus-Class Battlecruiser, Throne Room


P O W E R​

He felt the blade take the plunge into her flesh and felt the life slip from her body through the empyrean stream of the Force as she gave her last breath. The Grandmaster of the Silver Jedi, was dead, one with the Force. An obstacle no more, an opponent worthy of his respect from her near successful efforts. She had been powerful but foolish in her belief that there was such an illusion as hope. There was no hope, there was only death and he was it's instrument. A living conduit of the Dark Side that would devour this galaxy in the throes of war and watch it burn in the fires of tribulation where it would emerge from the embers, reborn.

Now, all that stood in his way was the Iron Imperator and a Jedi Knight, he whipped the halberd around as he fell into stance. His eyes glowing with sulfuric malice as he honed in on the immediate threat of the powerful Rurik Fel . Suffocating darkness against unbreakable iron, a climatic battle of wills that could tip the scales one way or another. It was time to finish this, no more games.

The Dark Lord of the Sith laid eyes upon his opponent as he rose, taking up the weapon of a downed Sovereign Protector felled by the very hands of the Man of Iron. Solipsis hissed under his breath, and so the Imperator made the first move with a sudden guided throw of the poled weapon with immense force projected by the empyrean wind pressing against it's metal. The enemy clutched his saber tightly and followed up with an immediate swift charge. The Elder's preternatural senses took charge immediately, decades of training and a deep connection to the Force guided his hand as he felt his body react to the sudden emergence of the heaved weapon as he swatted it away with his own halberd in hand. Immediately he was set upon, the imposing form of the Man of Iron had appeared before him as he successfully closed the distance between them, a sudden swing of his saber towards the abdomen of the Dark Lord was answered with a parry of beskar agaiinst it's white hot plasma. His senses failed him though when the sudden punishing blow came from the Kinetite sphere as it connected with his face.

Spirited away, the body of the Dark Voice was carried off until it pressed against the cold hard tiling with a savage roll. He pressed his free hand against the flooring as he lifted his gaze back towards his Imperial opponent with a bellowing growl from behind his lips. Blood trickled from the top of his head and a nasty burn charred away part of his face, he rose to his feet with agony in his breath and collected humor in his voice. The Sith'ari chuckled aloud and stared back with pure malice behind his gaze.

Ping.

His poled weapon crashed tapped against the tile, he immediately took up a stance and readied himself for another bout before the entirety of the chamber began to tremble and shake.

Outside the confines of the Throne Room, on the exterior of the Tartarus-Class Battlecruiser, the New Imperial Order's very own had surrounded the prized vessel and begun tearing it apart piece by piece after carving their way through the impressive shields of the mighty warship. Fighting a losing battle on all sides, the fearsome vessel once a predator preying on the best of the coalition's forces was now a caged animal being prodded and probed at every turn.Explosions scattered across the Star Destroyer, laser fire rained over the shell of the Dark Lord's craft where they fought within so powerfully against one another.

The lights inside went out immediately, darkness blanketing the entire area with it's oppressive grip before emergency backup systems activated only seconds later in a crimson hue of illumination that revealed the Dark Lord suddenly upon Fel. With one hand he released a crackling chain of crimson lightning over the beskar blade and swung it's electrified edge towards the Iron Imperator in one fell swoop.Rotating himself as well as his weapon, he sought to outmaneuver his opponent ever so briefly and crack his pole against the mask of the Man of Iron with augmented strength to try and catch him in a daze so that he could come through with another swing of his weapon as his body turned. In almost poetic form, fluid in motion he aimed to separate the head of his opponent from his shoulders.

Rurik Fel | Bernard of Arca​