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

[Starlin Rand]

Objective II: Tip of the Spear
Tags: Damsy Callat Ripley Kühn Artemis Lu Amelia Venthyra The Mongrel
Location: Inside the war camp, southwest

“Starlin!”

Through the haze of single-minded concentration on the southern gate, Starlin heard the voice of General Tammuz Hoole calling to him. “Huh?”

Tammuz was locked in battle with a Chrysalide Branchlurker. “The southwestern corner!” he shouted. “We’ve breached the wall there!”

“Feth! Why didn’t you say so?!” Starlin released the dead tank battering ram, sending it crashing to the ground, and took off running toward the West Wall.

Overhead, personnel transports descended, unleashing an army of Silver Jedi reinforcements. Starlin blinked in amazement as he saw a unit consisting entirely of Wookiees emerge from one carrier. NORCOM infantry and Skytroopers arrived in similar style, with all parties converging upon the gap that had been blasted in the wall at the southwestern corner. It wasn’t wide enough for a tank to pass through, but people? Sure.

Jedi and Shi’ido Force Users were already hard at work levitating rubble out of the way, clearing a path for the troops. Mawites continued to fire down upon them from atop either wall, but were met with return fire from the various units on the ground, ranging from tanks to aircraft to infantry with rocket launchers.

Other Mawites lobbed explosives through the gap, trying to stop the rebels from entering. Starlin used telekinesis to throw a live grenade back inside, where it exploded in the midst of the defending marauders.

Soon the path was clear, and the rebels, Silvers, Jedi, and their allies poured in. Starlin passed through the gap and was immediately met with a flurry of vicious blaster fire, which he barely deflected with his lightsaber. Other Jedi around him did the same, scattering the attention of the Mawites and swiftly spreading out. Lightsabers in every color in the spectrum flashed, cutting down the minions of the Sith.

 

[Darth Tennacus]

​

Location: Goshen War Camp Surface
Equipment: 2 Lightsabers
Affiliation: Brotherhood of the Maw
Nearby Aliies: Darth Senthral
Engaging: Mrurh'en'lase | Hel

​

Darth Tennacus advised himself specifically through the course of his actions. It was not her death that motivated him, but as much must have already been out there, given his repeated attempts to have her spill the secret she buried within. He was as reached out to the Force as he possibly could in the midst of a battle. He had long trained himself to simultaneously task between the Force and physical plane, as witnessed by his ability to engage in conflict whilst hosts in servitude remained animated in imitation of life; but committing his mental focus entirely to the intangible tide of the Dark Side would have been bordering on unnecessary risk. There was already conflict in the Force - he could feel as much. A strain in the balance between Light and Dark; an atmospheric twist which soured the very air. An olfactory shift which even he found unsatisfactory, despite the metallic plate which filtered his every breath.

He did not originally believe the likes of Force Lightning would have struck itself upon her with any notion of threat to her life, but seeing the luminous streaks singe and char the flesh beneath her crippling attire made him doubt any ounce of strength she possessed as a Jedi. Maybe under the guidance of a Sith she could find herself absolute in her abilities, unrivalled in her commitment to power. The electricity emanating from him perished at her eventual evasion of its damaging whips, composing himself to watch her charge at him in utter determination. Good, he thought. Let your emotions guide you. You're only leading yourself further into the path of the unblinded.

The Sith's lightsaber moved through the air swiftly, hurling from around his side like a crimson wave of daunting light. The connectivity of the opposing blades was nothing but nostalgic to the Sith's ears; the sweet, plasmic distress of collision was invigorating in every aspect. The blades were locked together between them, contrasting hues straining in a barrage of hums with every ounce of pressure applied from their physiques. But where Tennacus believed he could use this opportunity to read into her thoughts, it felt more as if something was reading into his. An image presented itself within him as their weapons faced off before their strengths; the reverberating hums channelled a fleeting shadow into his mind. It blinded him for only a second, but it was enough to alert him that this level of conflict was stimulating it in the correct path. The way the Jedi expressed herself silently made Tennacus believe that he was not the only one she was fighting. As if luring him to its origins, the Force ushered in unspoken breaths into his ears, calling out to him from beneath that obscure plating set around the Jedi's arm. The glow emanating from it was nothing amongst physical, but its tongue versed through the Force like a yearning for awakening.

". . . So, this is where you are."

Tennacus's opposing hand clawed its fingers. The Force concentrated between them, releasing itself into a small shockwave which surged itself towards her knees, forcing her limbs to strain. Following its motion, the Sith Lord suddenly sidestepped to encourage her fall, and brought the lightsaber up over his head to descend rapidly against the plating of her arm, crashing repeatedly in a flurry of strikes which sought to take the armour right off her limb. Tenacity fuelled him to a manner of inconsideration, where he cared not for how many times he released his attacks upon her, generating wave after wave of sparks which each tenacious swing that successfully landed itself upon the frames. If her arm was severed - so bet it. But one way or another, he was going to unveil the secret she so desperately sought to protect.

 

[Halketh]

S A I N T E D
Dark Lord of the Sith
vestment | creation

S T R A I N
The Perished | 4773/5000
​

Through the distant waves churning in his Mind's Eye, he saw their direction change. The struggling padawan ceased his efforts and surged in a new path, regrouping with his allies before the Dark Lord had reached him, yet it was not enough to deter him. Rather, it brought a strange smile to his features beneath his otherwise indifferent visage. So they had broken through elsewhere, very well. Passing through the ruination inflicted by his forces, the sorcerer swept his gauntleted hands forth, twisting his wrists to angle his palms skyward. The undead howled in a blood-curdling taunt, their discordant voices joining the cacophony of outright war. Clawed digits hooked into talons and beneath the armor, veins drew to the surface of flesh, pulling taut.

The wounded left behind, friend and foe alike, were devoured as a scythe of ephemeral design slashed from the sorcerer's position, echoing outward in reaping wave. The hands harvesting the slipping essence were drawn to his chest, leashing the energy he pooled into his font of personal power. "Ani ati ra sniu!" he bellowed to his forces, shifting the swarm of bloodied soldiers in a different direction, chasing after the scent of their prey through the undergrowth.

His feast completed, he dashed after them.

The call for aid reached him across comlink and saw him acknowledge in kind, uttering a half-hearted assurance that relief was on the way. <"Amarth, dispatch Forte to Goshen immediately. Bring the ship about, maintain course over it, and provide heavy support as needed.">

<"Already working on it, Dark Lord. Forte is ready on your mark.">

<"Send her.">

Branches, fronds, and smoke alike grazed his armor with his hastened pursuit, and soon he burst forth from the brush, witnessing the crash of his undead against the Silver Jedi advance. Blasters screamed through his ranks, splashing into his armor and battering the flesh beneath, though it did little to hinder his push. Rather than grip the blade slumbering on his belt, The Divine shoved his hands forward, pouring his energy into a miasmic barrier to defy the punishing counterattacks of the Jedi and their allies.

Amongst the beacons of silver and white illuminating his Sight, he felt an unusual flare of malice spark to ignition in his core.

They had broken through and with reinforcements arriving rapidly, there was little he could do to hold this ground without the aid of his allies- so one would have thought. Each hammering strike sent into his barricade rattled his bones and bruised them, shaking the disarray of considerations rushing through his mind. The undead rallied behind him, most of them anyway, and returned fire through the makeshift cover, striking hard and fast to deliver the same punishment that saw them crumple to the forest floor. The slaughter of each returned to him the very same energy he had granted them to raise them into service, fueling the channel of the barrier, sustaining it further.

Malice sparked wrath and from that, he sculpted his barrier around himself personally, obscuring his frame deep within its protective span. His hands wove to either side, digits twitching unnaturally with the excitement of his projection. His energy was wrought to the surface and expanded rapidly, each molecule in the churning air brought to his attention with the expansion of his awareness. And each he excited, generating surges of friction. The ground quivered, shuddering at the sudden act of perversion. The wind picked up in warning of what was to come, gales suddenly raking at the advancing line.

Darkness moved through his soldiers and pooled around him, wrapping him in its all-consuming embrace.

"Zudyti savimi visa," he whispered toward his miscreations, a singular statement invoking purpose.

The energy peaked and infernal maelstrom followed, upheaving debris and exploding with whips of crimson lightning in every direction, his malice manifested toward the advancing Silvers. He could do little to control it directly, rather, the channel relied solely on its indiscriminate, destructive might, wreaking naught but havoc as far and as long as his strength would endure the tax.

​

The Prophet
In Orbit Over Goshen War Camp

​

Serving the Dark Lord's order, the crew of the Battlecruiser prepared to engage from their position, heavy defenses fully raised with the expectation for a counter-attack. Yet, as they positioned themselves, the terrifying vessel angling for proper bombardment, its belly only opened briefly to release a single drop pod, ejecting it through the orbital chaos toward the carnage below.

"See to it that she arrives at the camp in one piece, I will not have the Master's efforts thwarted now." The zabarak entrusted with the command of the ship growled, watching from the bridge as the lonesome pod plunged into the atmosphere. She shifted her focus to the communication panel before her and dialed in on one very specific frequency, patching herself through to The Mongrel directly: <"This is Lieutenant Amarth of The Prophet, Darth Caelitus is sending you a present. The tides will shift, standfast. Until then, we are in position to provide aerial support on your request, over.">

Kyber Dark had been costly for the Sith as a whole, yet it was he who sought to undo it, moving down the list of casualties to usher each betrayed soul back unto the realm of the living, more powerful than before. Their flesh had been a prison, their loyalties shackles, and it was he who waited until a time where they could truly be free to enact his insidious ploy.

Darth Bellum .

Avernus .

And at last, the soul he had scoured the longest for, Vella Forte .

He had plunged into the abyss to find her, fighting his way through the Darkness until at last, she had ventured back with him, willing to return to the conquest and unleash the hellish nightmare he envisioned alongside him with the promise for retribution.​

​

ALLIES | Dakrul The Mongrel Glossa
FOES | SJC | Starlin Rand Damsy Callat Artemis Lu Ripley Kühn Amelia Venthyra The Dark Inquisitor Sergeant Omen

 

[Michael Barran]

POST 3
OBJECTIVE 2: TIP OF THE SPEAR
WRATH_OF_THE_WOADS

ALLIES (NIO): Noel Strasza

ALLIES (SJC/GA/AC/OTHER): Starlin Rand Sergeant Omen Damsy Callat
Artemis Lu The Dark Inquisitor

ENEMIES (BOTM/NSO/TFD): Khaostra Devoid Romund Sro The Mongrel Dakrul
Halketh Marlon Sularen Zachariel Steelblood Eldervine

MICHAEL'S FORCES

THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD
ARGYLL COY. - INFANTRY
LARGS COY. - INFANTRY
FARRIN COY. - ENGINEERS
ISLAY COY. - ANTI-TANK

BLUE-HEART BRIGADE
196 XT-62,"CATAPHRACT" TANKS
32 SCOUT-AFV'S
9 MLV'S (NAKAIOMA)
5 PREDATOR LAUNCH-PLATFORMS (NAKAIOMA)
1 COY. OF GUARDSMEN
1 COY. OF MEDICS
1 COY. OF QUARTERMASTERS


MICHAEL'S LOADOUT

PRIMARY WEAPON: PALE-BLUE LIGHTSABRE
SECONDARY WEAPON: BLASTER-PISTOL
SECONDARY BLADE: VIBROSWORD CAVALRY-SABRE

PROVING GROUND: THE SECOND DEPLOYMENT - PART 4

GOSHEN RAINFOREST, LAOMON (869 ABY)
HOUR ONE OF THE MAIN BATTLE FOR LAO-MON....

Ah, chit.... Another day, another mob to scatter. More trees and ruins to stare at.

Sitting atop his trusty repurposed tank, Commoner-Captain Proost would silently smoke a cigarette to himself atop his Cataphract-ACV, keeping his XT-62 company as the other tank-crews across the line laboured and fretted over their own, thought it wasn't like the Archaisian had much choice in a readied defensive stance; no fight, no rest-patterns, nor any reprieve would be available for the heavy-hitters in Lord Erskine's indomitable armoured-infantry brigade that day, all the Commonwealth troops could do under such restraint-orders was wait. Arman was no fan of sitting around and killing mosquitos all day, admitting as such to the others in angrily venting,'If I knew I'd be doing this all day, every day, I could've just transferred back to Archais for the same experience and made it home in time for dinner.', to which all he got in reply was laughter in abundance. Not the response he desired, but the response Proost had expected from men who were just as eager as he was to get into a decisive action, once and for all; but one little vibration on the Archaisian's comm-device would change everything, like an authoritative lash had spurred Arman into action and wouldn't stop until his absolute devotion was given to attaining his focus once more.

<"Baird to Cataphract One! Maw-sworn commander is confirmed beginning parley with Cairn One, it's time to prep for what we talked about before. Time for the great blitz we all prayed for!">​

'Copy that, Guardian One! About bloody time, bruu! At least now I can actually bear to look at my map-holographic display again. All that inactivity was driving me round the bend!'

<"I know the feeling, mate. Honestly, never known skirmishes to last so karking long with us lot, not even back in the battalion days. Good to be active again though, I knew Michael would want a decisive action eventually, even if he's been a wee chit about the whole thing until now.... His father's son after all, eh? Catch ye soon anyway, man. Stay sharp, stay aggressive. Guardian One out!">​

Flicking the last letters-remnants of his Dunwaller Silvers cigarette into a puddle by the right-side tracks, Proost would spring to life as he pivoted on his backside to jump off the rain-soaked tank, landing with what looked to be a second wind, and bouncing around with a spring in his step as the XT-62's slide door opened from the other side. Shouting out from within, Proost's repairman would exclaim,'That's the engine and the suspension modified as best as I can with the factory-model you were issued! Maybe one day I can build you a custom-Cataphract from scratch, eh?', before the slide-door closed behind him with a smooth-action metallic clunk, followed by the sound of boots squelching through the mud to walk around the front. By the time the repairman had bounded round to the front of the tank, Arman would be also walking around to share closer, safer words with each with his subordinate; something akin to a subconscious mutual understanding, one that showed that both knew well of what befell the brigade's loudmouths within the first three days of the battle.

'While that would be a glorious sight to behold, and an even greater joy to operate - I reckon we've got matters of a more-pressing variety to deal with.... You ever get the feeling you're being watched?'

'Leadingham, get in the tank. We'll pluck the other sitting ducks from the thicket downhill as well.... Move now, go!'

PROVING GROUND: THE SECOND DEPLOYMENT - PART 5

​

GOSHEN RAINFOREST, LAOMON (869 ABY)
HOUR ONE OF THE MAIN BATTLE FOR LAO-MON....

​

'Maitland to Scope Four! You've got Guardians covering the western, northern, and southern approaches as requested. You're free to move as soon as Michael gives yees the go-ahead.'

<"Sound, mate. We'll use the lull t'prep oor gear for the meantime, I suggest you do the same. Advice from a QM in this mess could save a life or twelve, ya never know.... Stay frosty out there, Guardian Nine! An' do send my best ti Bairdy! Scope Four out!">​

Now there's a reliable operator if ever I heard one, good advice too.

All of Michael's playing-pieces were moving, or setting up whilst they waited in their carefully chosen locations, but of those who were staying put in their places along the Free-State's offensive static-line, only the sharpshooters would have the freedom to remain mobile throughout the 7-day battle of attrition and terror. A fact of which that wasn't lost on the likes of Brett Maitland, swapping his sniper rifle for a modified SA-35 instead as he briefly plotted a path to the guardsmen covering the southern approach; if foes were to pop up along the way, the Jackal-spec sniper would be useless to the Guardians' allocated taskmaster for the area, so the rapid-firing battle rifle was wisely chosen as the better option for mid-range pressure under fire. One of those who'd been vehement in their refusal to upgrade from the 35-spec to the new SA-65 model would always be Guardian Nine, and the veteran Guard-Sergeant had chosen to stick with the operational nuances he learned to work around long before that day of days. Many preferred the new model, but even though the 65-spec rifle had become a true tried-and-tested replacement to the famed Ollis Barran craftsmanship, it was the older rifle's sleek look that would keep Maitland's opinions from swaying toward the replacement.
Mag-check, full? Aye.... Safety, off. First round, chambered. Shouldered, ready.

Aw'right, here we go.

Despite this, the loyal Tuath-born guardsman knew his eyes wouldn't be the only ones scouring his approach for Mawsworn, as there would be an observational vantage point behind him to the west, overlooking the monorail tunnel's entrance; if any enemies were to find themselves sneaking between the three trails, there would be two forward-observing guardsmen catching anyone in their sights with long-distance binoculars and sniper rifles of their own, completely covering the trail and the movements they were just minutes away from endeavouring. Looking back to the perch in question, Brett would click his torch twice in their general direction to mark himself out for tracked movements, clicking his comm-device into life and mutter,'Maitland to Guardian Four.... Moving from the northern thicket to check on the lads on the southern brae, intending to return to my position shortly though. Free to cover?', as he clumsily fitted the torch back onto his utility-belt.

<"Seen - and covered, Maitland. You're free to move, but don't take too long over there. Won't be long until our orders are passed down the line, and we both know you'll be needed at your post then for sure. Guardian Four out!">

<"An' keep yer HEE-HAWs doun ti a bare-minimum, Guardian Nine. We're tryin' t'slip by undetected, mind? Get shiftin'.">​

It wouldn't take Brett long to traverse the long-grass with posture lowered, moving through the swaying strands of lush plant-life that grew closer to the taller trees as he rose from a near-crouched position at the base of the southern hillock, and as soon as contact was made with the guardsmen at the summit, the superior officers to the east could return to scanning the entire sector for miles in every direction. Baird's staffers were always extremely competent for their positions, something of which Baird could feel relief in such moments, especially in the realization that Guardian Four and Five would be able to spot anything approaching with the equipment they carried all the way up to the perch with them, equipment-loadout additions that would prove vital in the long run. The peace of mind was certainly a helpful factor for all the eyes on the fork in the trail, especially the lookout who came to challenge his approach, drawling,'Ahem! "Imperator!", is it? Or at least - that should be the current challenge anyway....', with his barrel still pointing at the bushy ground between his feet.

'Well, it is - an' I do believe,"Tavlar!", would be the correct response until we're told otherwise. We good though?'

 

[Noel Strasza]

C O N T R O L
R E V E N A N T
IMPERIAL SPECTRE

​

His rejection of her aid earned a rueful smirk, though as he stood directly before her, she made no effort to move aside or backpedal. Perhaps he was used to throwing his weight about to achieve his ends, but Warmachine was unimpressed by such things. The Shi'lai blood in her veins had seen her raised in opposition of needless bloodshed, something which she stood by in a sense, there was no need for violence when it was unnecessary. Yet, every living body in this emplacement was hostile toward them and their people and served interests that were directly opposite to what it was The Order stood for. Therefore, violence and bloodshed were precisely what they needed.​

"No killing."

"Should I also politely ask them to drop their weapons and surrender to New Imperial authority?" She mocked him over their comlink, mechanized voice distorting slightly with the crackle of encryption across the channel, "Our duty is to defend the Order's interests and enforce the will of The Imperator. I'll gut anyone who gets in the way of that mission, you had better just get used to it, Avenger." Her inhuman voice did little to emphasize the harshness she uttered these words with, though the grate of vocoder was enough to stand on its own to that end. Revenant joined him, triggering her stealth generator once more, and off she darted, bounding along the wall and swerving out of the way of scrambling defenders as she went, disregarding them for the sake of the objective.

Communications were still intact, something she had been dispatched to neutralize. There were two approaches to this, either she could destroy the equipment directly, or incapacitate the operators maintaining it. Her preferred choice of the two was not a hard conclusion to draw. The Spectre moved with inhuman deftness, dodging and weaving between the swarming defenders with sparsely enough space to avoid detection on her approach to the ramp climbing toward the command station.

And she would have breached it, had a familiar sound not caught her attention.

The guttural howls of the undead.

It was enough to stutter her steps and she twisted her head, glaring down upon the interior of the emplacement, spotting the gap in the wall the Silver Jedi had created. And beyond that, she spotted them. The Perished, unmistakable in their stormtrooper armors and ravenous tactics. That meant he was here somewhere, he had to be- they would not go to war without their Master. Warmachine froze, weighing her options.

"That snake is here somewhere..." She stated toward Avenger, grinding the mismatched teeth in her mouth, "We could end him and now."​

ALLIES | NIO | SJC | Cromwell
HOSTILES | BotM | IF IT'S RED, IT'S DEAD | OPEN FOR OPPOSITION

​

​

 

[Starlin Rand]

Objective II: Tip of the Spear
Tags: Halketh
Location: Somewhere in the vicinity of the war camp, southwest

The supernatural maelstrom didn’t come as a complete surprise to Starlin, who felt ripples in the Force seconds before the storm struck. He had just enough time to steel himself against the whirlwind of energy.

All around him, rebels and Silvers were bombarded with bits of rubble and lashes of lightning. The Force Users among them projected barriers to protect themselves and others, but the maelstrom was strong. Within minutes, the area had been ravaged. Men and women bled, were knocked unconscious, or even killed from wounds dealt by flying rocks and rubble.

Starlin punched a hole in the storm, becoming the calm at the center. His good eye looked toward Halketh as he traced the source of the disturbance to the Sith Lord he had seen earlier, but failed to engage, too caught up in the rush toward the breach. That was a mistake.

On the other hand, he was quite certain this was a Sith Master. Despite General Tammuz’s assertion that it was high time Starlin was knighted, a Knight was not on par with a Master. To engage with this guy would be insane, or stupid!

Very, very stupid…

...eh, he had done dumber things before.

“Hey!” Starlin called. Pushing his bubble of calm outwards, he expanded it until he had dispelled the majority of the maelstrom’s energy, at least in the general vicinity of his allies. “Blind man’s bluff!” Vaulting back over the gap in the wall, he continued to shout at the Darth. “Nice ‘stache!”

A member of the Perished staggered toward him, weapon raised. Starlin eagerly lunged toward it, but didn’t strike it down. Depending on one’s angle, it might look like the Padawan had spat in the face of the zombie—he had actually blown smoke into its nostrils. The Perished stumbled, then righted itself, and as Starlin kept walking past it, the converted thrall turned and followed him.

Starlin couldn’t convert the entirety of Caelitus’ army—his lightsaber and shoto began to flash as he cut into the undead—but a trooper here or there among the slaughter would help him fight the masses. He mainly wanted to get to the magician.

“Say, that was a pretty neat trick. Do you perform at children’s birthday parties, by any chance?”

 

[Maestus]

ALLIES: Da Maw
ENEMIES: Everyone Else
Tag: Aaran Tafo

Maestus Fury
Dragon Shield Talisman
Shield V1.0

The smell of death hung heavy in the air. So thick, it was like a rough lover's caress. The stench of battle an aphrodisiac to the meditating Sith Lord's nose. The scent is what brought her back to the present. The smell of burning flesh. The screams singing on the wind. Pain and terror the melody. Blaster fire the harmony.

Her black eyes opened.

Having been in the same position for hours, she lifted her arms over her head, stretching slowly. Sitting cross legged on the floor, she uncrossed her legs and stretched those as well. No sense going into battle with a cramp.

THen she rose deftly, gracefully to her feet. One swift fluid motion. No loss of balance. No wobbling on her feet. Her meditation on the Dark Side of the Force had renewed her. Invigorated her. It had been too long since Korriban. Too long since she had stood on the field of battle and claimed souls. That would be rectified today.

She gathered her clothing. Loose breaches and a flowing tunic, along with her black boots. She grabbed her belt and hooked it loose around her waist. Then she picked up two hilts. One, a shorter lightsaber hilt. Nothing ornate or fancy. Very functional though. The other was longer, with phrik inlays. She clipped them both to her belt and stepped out of the building.

Glorious battle was all around. She surveyed the scene before her, her eyes landing on The Mongrel . Seems he had plenty of dance partners, Maestus surmised. She couldn't let him have all the glory. And she'd be damned if she succumbed to the Galactic Alliance or their Jedi lapdogs.

She crosse3d the field of battle til she was within the range where Mongrel could hear her.

Enjoying yourself?

​

 

[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
Enemies | BOTM | NSO | Darth Solipsis

SILVER FOR MONSTERS
​

Whatever blocked Rurik's path, he would rend judgement at the end of his argent blade. There was no containing the Iron Imperator in his pursuit. Sith Cultists, Imperial Heretics- none were spared a modicum of mercy on his march. The 501st troopers continued their dogged hold and advance in the hangar bay and beyond into the Leviathian, albeit paying with every inch of metal with blood and toil. As much as the Tartarus might've been a strategic asset in the rapidly waning chance the New Imperials might be able to capture it- destroying it was Rurik's sole aim. And thus- so too was the collective doctrine of the attached Stormtrooper units aiding Rurik's march for the dark throne aboard. Barradium charges accompanied each section, b-lining toward the weak and critical points of the ship as they showed up on engineering scans of the vessel. Whether they'd be able to power through the stalwart forces aboard the Tartarus to hit their marks? Tentative. But the New Imperials were rarely in the business of backing down from improbable battles.

Regardless to how Ayres carried herself in the fray, Rurik carried a presence unique of any other wielding the force. Heavy metal footfalls gave way to his approach as his argent blade was clutched solely in his right hand, that of which was a cybernetic limb- severed not moments before his body was lit aflame in darkness and he was all but confined to his Iron Skin. In its metal clutch, he was one with the blade itself and it showed in his martial prowess. Saber to saber...he'd yet to ever had been defeated in full. The Sith he'd backed into a corner always turned to sorcery to pull themselves away from certain death. Rurik expected Solipsis would be much of the same.

But in his other hand was his means of manipulating the Force itself, priding small, intense bursts of its use over channeling long, draining incantations of power.

It showed immediately to the Grandmaster at his flank, turning a corner into another corridor, he lifted his left hand immediately to ethereally grasp the helmet equipped by one of the Neo Imperial troopers before all but crushing it around the skull of the man, giving way to a note of crushed bone and spurting blood before collapsing to the floor before him, his comrade next to him hefted a blaster rifle in Rurik's direction only for his hand clasping the pistol grip being severed at the wrist in argent fury and skewered by the same blade within the next second.

Then...all paths ended before the very throne Rurik and the Silver Grandmaster sought.

His Knights Sentinel were roaming in their shadow...but otherwise, the two were alone. Rurik's cold eyes shifted between the Sovereign Protectors at the Dark Lord's side before honing in on the man himself.

"It is far overdue that I finally seize the opportunity to bring about your end, Sith. Wherever the seeds of chaos threaten to quicken...I will be there to excise them. You are no different. But even so...you were waiting intently and you sought this spectacle. So I pray, parasite. Do not feint from your destiny any longer." Rurik said, his voice gouged with dark distortion and interference as he did before he stood still, holding his arms out in open as was the welcoming stance to settle him into the way of the Vornskr. The all consuming ouroboros that lashed the darkness inflicted unto Rurik back at they who wielded it to begin with. But even so, his guard seemed open for Solipsis to seize the initiative. He wanted to first blow to strike against argent...at the very least, in the hopes that his momentary Jedi allies might be able to exploit a weakness, a short sight in his focus.

Would they ever be so fortunate.

 

[Westenra Mina]

Came to Lao-Mon in:

Wearing: Gladiator Armor (Lynda)

Piloting Catsuit (Lana)

Armed with: Dark Five Rings (Lynda)

Double Bladed Lightsaber (Lana)

Configuration: Lynda, Lana Layne (See Bio)

Objective: Goshen War Camp

The Copy of Westenra-Prime known as Lynda, one of the earliest direct Copies of Westenra ever made, had a stake in the coming conflict, whether she appreciated it or not.

Part of her nigh-endlessly adaptable physiology was derived from Shi'ido DNA. She had a stake in what was going on with Lao-Mon. Without Shi'ido, she could not have been created.

Lynda sat on a comfy sofa, petting a gray rabbit that snuggled against her as she watched the news reports, most of the lights in her apartment turned off. The AC and the NIO had failed to take Ziost, and Korriban. It was a set of humiliating, unexpected defeats for a war that was supposedly over. And Laertia had been right in the middle.

As much as she decried what Laertia had done, since participating in the counter invasion of Nar Kreeta, the planet where Laertia's life had been partly destroyed, changing her whole destiny, Lynda had begun to get the terrible, unsettling feeling that perhaps she had been too quick to judge Laertia. She had never fought opponents of such savage strength before, her combat protocols forced to expand exponentially. They called her a hero for killing so many Bryn'adul, having among the highest individual body counts when all was said and done. Some had even called her a threat comparable to the Black Knight herself.

The GA had offered her an official place in the military as part of their Special Operations. Real influence. The Android had hid her absolute fright at the prospect and declined, as it would have meant coming under more scrutiny. She preferred to keep fleecing the GA for every credit they had. You can't exactly make a hero (in this case, essentially a tool for Propaganda) out of someone who won't fight unless paid first.

She didn't keep the money for herself of course, not beyond what she needed. Most of it was donated to the refugees fleeing the Maw, The Bryn'adul, and even the Ashlan Crusade.

But she herself remained alone. In a luxury high rise, but alone. Save for a Rabbit and a pet Turtle. Even dating had lost its fascination because she never knew if she could trust the person dating her.

She found herself staring at old photos of her and Laertia just after rescuing Moya from the Sith. They had spent the day after hanging out on her ship, playing with Laertia's rabbits.

Eventually, when the news got too repetitive, she shut it off and stared, as she often did, at the Coruscant skyline. Staring in near total darkness out into the night, a faint purple glint at the center of her eyes piercing the dark.

There was a door chime. Lynda was surprised, for her nose detected the bodily chemicals of another Westenra Copy nearby. She was up in a few seconds, but not before gently setting aside her now sleeping rabbit.

She headed to the door and opened it. It was the other Copy operating in GA Space, Lana. She had more of a noticeable tan and sharper facial features with long brown hair and metallic pink eyes.

"Hello Lynda. Is this a bad time?"

"No, Sister. Come in." Lynda said with a gesture. Lana seemed to have adapted far better to life in the GA Navy than Lynda had as a mercenary within it.

"Are you hungry? I have food..." Lynda offered going to the closet...

...and pulling out a captured Maw Brotherhood Cultist, who was tightly bound, with a number of implanted cybernetics that kept him paralyzed. More generosity than he deserved...had he been the captive of her Sister, Vera, he would have been missing those limbs...

"Oh, no thank you, I fed earlier..." Lana said, taking a seat on a leather couch next to a stand that houses the transparisteel terrarium where her pet turtle rested.

"So, what brings you here so late?" Lynda asked stuffing her suddenly awake prisoner back in the closet.

"I heard you turned down the GA's offer to join their special ops program on a permanent basis."

Lynda fidgeted, pulled out a puzzle cube from the same closet the now wide awake Maw Prisoner was in.

She always did her best to scramble the cube, mix and match it's colors, but due to her own memory database and high intelligence she would always solve it in seconds.

She sat next to Lana, fiddling with it idly.

"So?"

"I think you could do a lot more good than you are currently..." Lana replied slowly. "You're limiting yourself. I heard about what happened at Nar Kreeta. You caught a ton of eyes. The right eyes."

"Sister, we weren't sent into the GA to play hero. We were sent in here because Mother wanted eyes and ears in everyplace and near everyone who mattered.

"You helped save the life of Thurion Heavenshield ." Lana said. "If he had died at Nar Kreeta, it would have been a devastating morale blow to his world. The Alliance needs champions."

"If you want to go native, Lana, that's your choice. You and I both know that if they knew what we were they would have us imprisoned, dissected, or worse. I'm here as a Double Agent for Mother. I simply choose to remember that fact."

"The Galactic Alliance stands for a lot of good things."

"The GA fethed off the Bryn'adul to fight the Sith. The Sith were more important to them. Or we wouldn't have needed to invade Nar Kreeta. What I saw there was an Atrocity. These people don't have answers. Not good ones anyway."

"They were in an impossible position. If they hadn't gone along with it, the New Imperials, they would have harbored it against them. The NIO would have probably declared them enemies also. It would make our position against the Bryn'adul even worse if we hadn't helped them."

Lynda raised a brow at Lana as she worked the puzzle cube, solving it once again. Chit.

"So it's 'we' now? You have gone native." Lynda muttered.

"The GA Navy helps protect dozens of worlds. We stopped disasters. We fight for the oppressed. These are good people and you're turning your back on them unless they continue to pay you exorbitantly."

"I'm not one of them, Lana. I don't want to be. Besides, I'm part of the reason The Black Knight got so powerful. They'll have my ass in front of a firing squad if they ever learn that. They're only as good as the Galaxy allows them to be. Them being practically married to the NIO proves that. Or are we going to pretend all the lives they threw away to destroy Ideas isn't evidence?"

"I fought alongside brave people who gave their lives for what they believed in. Don't dismiss their sacrifices like that. It's cruel." Lana replied, face hardening.

"Their sacrifices were in vain." Lynda replied flatly. "Sacrificed in the name of the vanity projects of their leaders. Not that I'd ever do what Laertia did, but after Nar Kreeta, I totally understand why she was disgusted with them enough to rebel. They want my help? I'll squeeze every credit out of them for it. They all keep pretending the Sith are defeated. The Sith are an Idea, just like The Mandalorians are, or the Jedi. Like they aren't already scurrying into the walls of the galaxy. Wouldn't surprise me if they have a few plants in the Senate already--"

(Narrator laughs in DARKCOM )


"--all the GA wasted it's time doing was destroying property and locations. They haven't killed the Sith. They haven't even weakened the Sith. All they've done is make them harder to spot when they try and cut your throat from behind. They have never needed an empire to harm the Galaxy. They want me to fight alongside them? I'm perfectly happy to do it. But I'm not doing it without being paid first."

"For someone who says she wouldn't do what Laertia did, you're starting to sound an awful lot like her." Lynda noted, growing more concerned.

"Maybe I didn't consider her point of view as well as I should have." Lynda countered.

"Lynda, Laertia Io became a Terrorist."

"Like the NIO and the Ashlan's aren't. Yet we don't slap their hands away. They're perfectly happy to let them do as they please as long as it's to people they hate.

"She killed Jedi, Soldiers fighting for their families."

"So does everyone else. The only difference is the level of state backing one side has. I used to think the GA was on the up and up too, Sister. Nar Kreeta showed me the truth. They aren't any more legitimate than anyone else is. You might find some comfort pretending the people you're fighting alongside are your wingmates, who would stand by you when the truth is revealed. They won't, however. Nobody is our friend in the Alliance. And frankly? I wouldn't want them for friends..."

Lana's mouth tightened a bit at the corners.

"I trust then, you intend to charge an exorbitant price for your involvement in the Lao-Mon operation?"

"Yes. And they'll pay it, because they want dead Maw Cultists. I'll give them exactly what they paid for. No more. No less. But I'm not interested in being their friend."

Lana sighed.

"You used to be more open minded. Open hearted."

"Yes, and that kick started Laertia's downfall. I learned my lesson." Lynda replied, glum at solving the puzzle cube in seconds yet again.

Lana stood up.

"I'll be heading to Lao-Mon myself. I don't suppose I could politely ask you to wave your fee, in light of the fact our DNA is derived from Shi'ido."

"I'll halve it. I won't wave it."

Lana nodded. "Thank you, Sister. I'll pick you up in a few hours. Be ready..."

"Wouldn't dream of being anything less..."

Lana departed to make final preparations herself.

Lynda went back to snuggling with her rabbit in the dark, in hiding from the Galaxy and herself.

Present...

The Lambda Shuttle Lana had chosen to pilot them both in jumped out of hyperspace onto a besieged world. It was about a few weeks after what had happened to Xiphos on Kerest.

Lana had picked up an extra straggler, a strange man in an all white version of Senate Commando Armor, heavily armed. He had a Katana, a Lightsaber, a Shotgun, and pistols, and generally seemed to give off the impression he was not to be fethed with.

Lynda, in her blue and red hoplite type armor had brought a big sword enchanted vambraces, and her aggression for the ride. Every Westenra Copy was a lethal threat, but they grew especially skilled and dangerous the longer they were in a chosen form.

"So..." Lynda asked The Man in White , father of Starlin Rand . "Ever fought Maw before?"

"I was killing garbage like this for decades. They all blend in together..." The Man in White answered. "You'll see. Feth the Maw."

"Where'd you find this guy?" Lynda asked Lana.

"He volunteered to the GA Military to fight the Maw for free..." Lana answered as she expertly evaded Maw Starfighter screens, even shooting some down as she descended into the atmosphere.

"The Dark Side is very strong here..." The Man in White noted.

"You a Jedi?" Lynda asked.

"No."

"That's okay, neither am I. I'm Lynda."

"Zabka." The man answered back politely.

They dropped down in the Jungle, which was currently being held by Shi'ido Rebels.

The Man in White was the first off the craft, and without waiting or coordinating, he immediately set off for the camp where he sensed his son, as much to help him as observe what he was capable of, what Syd had shown him. Lynda had gotten the APB from Nine herself: Don't go anywhere NEAR that kid. He'd already encountered Westenra Copies--the blonde ones who identified as Laertia's Sisters. If he spotted another Westenra Copy operating in the GA, it would almost certainly clue him in on how wide reaching Nine's tentacles were.

Unfortunately, neither copy currently on Lao-Mon knew he was here, else they would have stayed far away from the War Camp they now headed to full of terrible thunder and evil.

Neither Lynda nor Lana held back as Mawites shot at them, both taking advantage of their armor's repulsor flight capability as they flew at their opponents in a frenzy of sword slashing and the spins of Lana's double bladed Lightsaber, savagely cutting down the Camp Defenders.

Not three seconds here and she already hated the place. She regretted halving her pay as she beheaded a Sith with her black Odachi, resisting a lightning blast from a Sith due to her own physiology as well as her armor, hurling her sword like a spear to his face while Lana took a number of machine gun rounds to the chest but refused to stay down, snapping the shooter's neck as she closed in melee range.

But the Man in White was a Force all his own. His kills with shotguns were all head shots, and when he finally ran dry on that he pulled out a long, green Lightsaber and began hacking apart Maw challengers, shooting with a pistol in his other hand as he fought the mad fight to his son...

Lynda found herself admiring his rip and tear instincts...

 

[Khaostra Devoid]

Post: 2
Objective: Smooth Criminal
Equipment: Red Midnight Duster | Red Sith Armor | Sith Mask | Grav Boots | CrushGaunts | x2 White lightsabers | Forearm Lanvorak | Wrist Laser | Variety of Explosives | RSKF-44 heavy blaster | X-21 shock glove (Stored in her coat pocket)
Allies: Halketh | The Mongrel | Darth Tennacus | Bendak Crail | Romund Sro | Marlon Sularen | Glossa
Enemies: Michael Barran | Starlin Rand | Amelia Venthyra | Sergeant Omen | @[Liram Angellus | Noel Strasza | Thurion Heavenshield | Zoraya Ives-Ayres | Damsy Callat | Mrurh'en'lase | Hel | Lyra Vent | Artemis Lu
Special Tags: Michael Barran | Eldervine

Forces:
150- Raider walkers
25 - Spider Cruisers
30 - Firefang wardogs
1 coy. - Kitiakira Warband
1 coy. - Scav Kings
1 coy. - War Shamans
12 - Sorcerers of Rhand
24 - Flesh Stalkers
12 - Drengir

---

Those burning eyes stared first at Barren as he introduced himself and shook her hand. The pleasantries and introduction had been served then came the drinks. Khaos watched as the Michael downed his glass and then poured her one. She took the glass still not having said a word beyond her introduction, still keep her thoughts as concealed as best she could, she could feel that some of the others around her in this shack were attuned to some degree to element of force. She brought the Glass to her lips and then spoke words of purification in the ur-Kittât (Ancient Sith) language. “Tsawak Saarai.” As she whispered those words a red mist left her lips into the glasses purifying it of any possible poison outside its normal alcohol content.


She then knocked back the drink in one fast swig to not be out done by the man before her. Her face didn’t even flinch as the smooth burn of the Whiskey slid down the back of her throat. She after all was the daughter of a pirate and a witch if she hadn’t been able to handle her booze by this point, she would be dead. “Not bad, I still prefer Rum or JD.” She said with a slight sly smirk on her face. JD was one of the rarest whiskey’s she knew of in the Galaxy in fact she had only ever seen one bottle of the stuff ever that her grandfather shared with her and her siblings.


“The holonet tabloids tend to embellish, and most of the Maw aren’t big readers so I doubt they have much care what people want to call this war.” Though most people thought of the Maw as Savages, in truth the bulk were undereducated religious zealots lead by beguiling master minds willing to lead them on their zealous crusades. “Truth I wish I couldn’t read. It would be bliss not to see the lies governments like yours spreads about us.” A slight sneer again returned to Khaos’s face.


“But I came here discuss something more important and urgent.” She left that to linger for a moment Khaos’s tone through out this whole encounter other then the few snarks remained calm and even. Yet on this last line she let linger it bordered ever so slightly on threatening.


She already knew of the generals and leaders coordinating the battle and over the week that they had been fighting here fleshstalkers shi’ido loyal to the Maw had infiltrated NIO ranks here and probably many other places moving up the ranks masked by their shape changing abilities. It was assumed the Shi’ido were unruly and uncontrollable by the Maw but there were some that had joined the Maw with out question. A small number of the population of Shi’ido in fact joined the Maw rather then rebel.


As Michael and Khaostra began to talk these Fleshstalkers had been given their orders hours earlier to move in for the kill on the leaders they had gotten close to. Not only that but the jungle itself was about to awaken as the Drengir and Eldervine where about to emerge and start consuming all the flesh it could yet unlike the Fleshstalkers Khaos had little to no control over there action she was far from there leader only connected to their hive mind and they were telling her they were going to attack and begin emerging midst the enemy lines.


“This whole week has been draining and long but all games up until now preparation and waiting, now I came here to negotiate your unconditional surrender.” As she said it her eyes flared orange and she gave Michael a smirk with a little wink from the orange orbs of hers. She could have played this game out longer, got him talking about his troubled childhood but that really wasn't her style. She liked the word play and banter but she never was one for the long traitorous diatribe. The Ball was in his court now what would he do, she hoped he would run.

 

[Auria Blackmoore]

ALLIES: Konrad Harrsk (supposedly) | Ishida Ashina (maybe)| Keilara Kala'myr (somewhere) | NIO | SJC | GA
ENEMIES: BOTM | NEW SITH ORDER
ENGAGING: Tu'teggacha
GEAR: Not a dress

O~~>OBLIVION<~~O​

Abandoned.

It had gone south fairly quickly. The Taskmaster had clearly struck a nerve in her companion. Konrad had foregone all caution and leapt away, leaving Auria's back exposed.

Annoyance made way for a new emotion that Auria did not experience often.

Dread.

She was a powerful pyromancer, but even her mighty torrents of fire would not prevent a voulge from passing through - not at this distance and not with the reach of the pole-arms.

Mind racing, she did the only thing she could think of that would help the situation she was in.

The earth answered with a shuddering groan beneath her and her attackers' feet. More dust trickled down from the tunnel roof over their heads, but the shaking ground was bound to throw her attackers off balance in their advance.

And it did for a second.

Auria saw the opening in front of her as the one she had burnt before, faltered in his step. Not hesitating, the rogue witch leapt for it, calling the flames to her hands once more as she did so.

But she was not fast enough.

With the leap, she was able to evade the thrusts made in her direction by two of them, but the other Palatini at her back was able to get his hit in. The vibro-voulge sliced down from her shoulder, all the way to her opposite hip. The armourweave she wore offered enough resistance, or she would have been blood-eagled. As it were, the blade still penetrated the fabric, leaving a thin line that immediately started weeping blood.

Auria could not prevent the pain-filled cry that escaped from her lips, but she got out of certain death regardless. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she spun around and unleashed the torrents of flame she had at her disposal. The inferno would undoubtedly engulf the four Palatini that had surrounded her a moment before.

The wound throbbed and still wept blood, but it wasn't deep enough to weaken her. So she turned her attention back to the rage-filled maniac that was Konrad and his adversaries.

She had no idea what the Ebruchi was inflicting on his mind, but it couldn't have been good. But they had a job to do, regardless. So Auria harnessed the Force once more to grab hold of the two Palitini standing between the Imperial and his target. Thrusting her arms wide, even as the wound protested against it, she attempted to fling the two Guard in opposite directions of the tunnel.

Hopefully, the Imperial madman could capitilise on the opening.

If unknown demons of the past did not hamper him.

 

[Zoraya Ives-Ayres]

AD ASTRA
COMPNOR
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
Objective: Absolutely save the slaves
Allies: NIO | SJC | GA | In proximity Lyra Vent | Thurion Heavenshield | Amelia Venthyra | Sergeant Omen | Sakadi Marathi Sinvala
Enemies: BotM | The Mongrel
Equipment: E-11 Blaster Rifle with Grappling Hook attachment, SE-14r Light Repeating Blaster x 2, Vibroknife, Thermal Detonators x 4, KXA ABDG-01x 'Null' Grenade, Wrist-mounted Personal Energy Shield, Commlink

Vengeance is a monster of appetite, forever bloodthirsty and never filled.
​

The sound of blaster fire ripping into the structure nearby made her instantly jump to attention, her gaze following its trajectory to their pursuer who was attacking them from above. However, with the assurance of protection from her partner then she had no need to return fire for now and so focused on continuing her directive. "On it!" She called over the noise as she began working with a new sense of urgency.

The aggressive blasterfire around her made her wish she had opted to wear a helmet as a means of dampening the noise. Instead, she wore protective armour only covering her shoulders and torso and an earpiece for quick access to comms. Neither of which provided much defence against the noise and lethal rounds that were being exchanged. Nor did any other equipment she had render an adequate level of protection, leaving her wholly reliant on evasion tactics and the protection of her ally's suppressive fire.

She worked quickly, planting the charges where she could, spreading them out to increase effectiveness. A pang of warning in the Force gave her a brief moment of warning as her enemy's sights were set on her, forcing her to dive behind the structure to use it as protection. She used the momentum to drop into a roll, placing a final charge at the base of the building.

Still, her manoeuvre had only given her momentary respite and they still needed to escape or fend off their pursuers. Given that they were surrounded by primed bombs, she opted for the former.

Once the last detonator was primed, she jumped to her feet, both blasters in hand. "Run!" She screamed to her colleague, appearing from behind the building and using her blasters to provide a moment of suppressive fire to give Lyra a chance to react before turning and sprinting away from the explosives that were rigged to blow.

She holstered a blaster at her thigh and replaced the weapon with the detonator, her thumb over the button.

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent, Nite agent | Slave of the Maw​

Objective: Try to escape from captivity
Location: Goshen Keep Dungeons, Lao-mon
Equipment: 1x standard assault rifle | 2x blaster rifle | 2x vibroblade | 3x dogtag || OPBC-01m
Writing with: Zachariel Steelblood 's hunters (planned)
Allies: Konrad Harrsk | Auria Blackmoore | Jacen Nimdok
Enemies: Tu'teggacha

[ Dream of home ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ ​

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I have to do this!" I whispered.

I’ve seen corpses before, maybe too many; but it’s different if I take someone’s equipment so we can bury them, or because I need it. I felt lousy, if only because I had to leave them here and couldn’t take the bodies with me. Their family members may never know they are dead. They can never rest in a way that would be worthy, as they deserve it. That’s why I also looked for the dog tags around their necks, if nothing else, maybe these will get to their family.

And then I looked at what equipment they had. Assault rifle, blaster rifle, and vibroblade. The rifle was too heavy and its kickback was strong. With broken ribs, I didn’t dare risk using this. So I took two pistols and two daggers. I also found a painkiller in one of the dead soldiers, so I gave myself the injection. I needed it now, but I knew this pain would only get worse later. I didn’t want to wait too long.

I stood up next to the soldiers and would have moved on when I heard someone’s voice in my mind. Since I have my biochip, I’m used to not having to talk loud to communicate on the communication channel, but before the calls, MANIAC indicates that I have a call from whom and asks if I want to answer or not. However, this was different. I had never heard his voice before and it crawled up into my mind like a snake.

"All alone, aren't you?" His voice spoke in her mind, mocking. "You'd better run, little slave. The hunters are coming for you..."

No, no, no, no, no!

I froze, my face turned deathly pale as I stared in front of me; I was like one who sees a ghost. Fear crept through my body like an icy flood. I couldn't move. I hated and dreaded the Force Users, all of them! After what my brother did to me, I have had nightmares to this day. I could feel the cold sweat dripping down my face and back, and in vain as the air was hot I started to get cold. I gasped frequently, panic and shock almost overwhelmed me. If it had been here, I would have attacked, regardless of the odds, to try to kill it, or I would have run away. But now I was unable to move.

~ Agent Dyarron, try to focus! ~ I heard a loud beeping sound in my head, then the sound of MANIAC; this broke the shock, I was able to move again.

My heart was still beating violently, I was still scared; no, I was dread and terrified. Not from potential hunters, but from this unknown man. Hunters; despite the pain, I will have to take the assault rifle with me as well. I also took this from one of the dead soldiers. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!

"You'd better run…

Yes, I've better run; his words still echoed in my head and mind. I couldn't do anything else. I hurried toward the sounds in the hallway. I had to get out of here, I have to!

"Break their will, as yours has been broken, they're here alone (dream of home)…"​

 

[Bendak Crail]

Objective: II Tip of the Spear
Enroute to Goshen War Camp
Allies: The Mongrel Jaedec Ren
Enemies: Starlin Rand Damsy Callat Artemis Lu Ripley Kühn Amelia Venthyra
Equipment: Lightsaber, Ren Armor


With the situation growing increasingly difficult. In the middle of his bloodlust Bendak had heard the booming voice of his Master within his head. The voice was loud and urgent, mixed with anger as if Kyrel had sensed that where had the Knights had been dispatched to was at the wrong place. "KNIGHTS MAKE HASTE TO THE CAMP AT ONCE. THIS IS MY WILL!" Bendak gripping his head as if the command was a screech. Turning back, he briefly stumbled onto the ground but moved to quickly regain his composure. "Thy will be done Master!" His voice did not hide the pain that the scream had echoed, upon reaching out with the Force. He had sensed that what had been going on at the camp was not good. The light was starting to gain ground and there was not enough to push back. It was up for the Ren to provide some distraction. Bendak had recovered if not shortly already turning his direction towards the camp. Moving as fast as his legs could take him. Even drawing upon the Force to will him to what pace he could go.

Time was of the essence, and Bendak would not falter from his path, nor pass a chance to beat the Jedi. The best part they wouldn't know about the Ren coming, too distracted by their own assault to notice the attack that could come from behind. Turning his head he looked back to the dumb Gen'Dai brute who was still hacking away at a corpse. Too busy smashing at pieces to fully take heed to the command given out by the Master. "Jaedec we must hurry! The Jedi are gaining ground and we must defend our right to this world through death!" He directed towards the monster, who had stopped his hacking. Following close behind. Bendak focused on the path at hand. Seeing a path of which he followed the sounds of battle. The cries of many, and the smoke that came from overhead.

A grin coming to his lips, of how in moments he would come crawling from the woodwork to engage the Jedi from behind. To stall the advance and in some desperation provide some aid to the Maw bretheren. Be it through his death none of it mattered. Any Shiido along his path was met by a vicious blow with his lightsaber. The heavy steps of his companion along his path. He wondered if they would arrive in time for the attack, and what would be the main bulk of what force could they bring. Be it formidable as they were, two warriors could not hope to beat back all the Jedi in this fight. Be it Knight of Ren or not. Even as he sped his pace with fierce determination. He was met with such doubt about such a command given to him.

That was until the same guttural groaning had spooked him. From the surroundings had come the undead corpses of Kyrel's creations. All but surrounding him by the looks of it too many to count. All rearing bloody chunks of flesh, and this hungry snarling that came along with the familiar dripping of this mysterious black fluid. Petrified with fear, but Jaedec from behind paid no attention. An idea started to form as they got closer by the way of sound. Not far from a vantage point where they would strike. He only hoped that he wasn't too late even surrounded by monsters.

 

[Amelia Venthyra]

Location: Lao-mon, Goshen War Camp

Gear: 1 Lightsaber (Regular - Purple), 1 Shoto (Purple), and 1 Jedi Robes

Tags: The Mongrel


The girl spoke of her unshakable resolve, and she appeared to be adamant in her choice. Under normal circumstances, Amelia would try harder to dissuade the situation, however at this point Amelia had a feeling that Hetzen was prepared to die for her beliefs. Not that Amelia was given much choice as Hetzen drew her warblade on one hand and a heavy pistol with the other.


The general charged at the Silverblade with an unbridled fury. Unleashing a volley of blaster fire at Amelia while swinging that blade. Amelia does her best to bat away the thermal bolts with her lightsaber in graceful practiced motions. One bolt managed to slip past her defense as it came for her face. Instinct took over as she nimbly side stepped before she took a graze of burning sensation on the right side of her cheek.


As Hetzen swung her blade, Amelia stepped back out of reach while also leaning away from the warble. The air seemed to hiss and hum from the blade as it whistled past her. As the volley continued despite the range, Amelia simply redirected three blaster fire back at Hetzen. One was directed at the hand that held the pistol while the other two were sent towards her torso. Then she follows with a clash between her lightsaber and Hetzen's warblade. Except that Amelia wasn't going for a contest of strength. Instead Amelia twirls her lightsaber in an attempt to make Hetzen lose her grip on the warplanes and effectively disarming her. Granted it's not the same as two lightsabers, but the concept was still the same and could be applied here. If anything, Amelia twirls her lightsaber to force Hetzen's warplanes down into the ground, or basically the top part of the wall.


The thunderous sounds of combat echoed from the south, west, and north side of the camp. The chaos of a battlefield was evident amongst both sides of conflict. Amelia maintains her concentration in distracting the Gore Wasp away from the duel. Although her left forearm still burns and now the right side of her face had a small streak of burnt skin. It sort of reminds her of the one time she went up against her first terentatek, and when the poison threatened to consume her life. Amelia didn’t focus on a plan on what to do after the duel was over with. She just planned on surviving the duel whether that was to deal the lethal blow, or something else occurs.

 

[Jaedec Ren]

Location: Enroute to Goshen War Camp
Allies: The Mongrel Bendak Crail
Enemies: Starlin Rand Amelia Venthyra Damsy Callat Artemis Lu Ripley Kühn
Equipment: Ren Armor, Mandalorian Executioner Vibro Axe

Jaedec mindlessly hacked at the corpses that both him and Bendak had dispatched earlier, with the screeching of Kyrel's voice within the brute's mind. Unlike Bendak who had gripped his head in pain from the booming command that echoed in both of they're minds. Jaedec only seemed to stand, his mind zoning out due to the words of their Master. The childlike guttural growl spoke after Bendak's affirmation to Master Kyrel's voice that echoed. "By your command Master..." He said as if he was unaffected and stopped his hacking when Bendak had told him of the same thought they had both shared. He didn't speak but only walked with Bendak, although aided by the Force to increase his steps to match with Bendak, who seemed to make his strides quick in reaching the goal that the Ren Master had commanded of them.

Through the thick jungle brush, they walked, with Bendak killing any Shiido he comes across, as well as the occasional hacking of the thick jungle foilage. Finding the camp wasn't difficult. Even a brute like him just had to follow the smoke, and the sounds of battle. Follow the sounds and what they saw and they would arrive in no time. With the ever persistent thought of the soothing sound the beskar metal gave to the brute who hacked into flesh and bone with just one mighty swing. He never fought an actual Jedi before, and only seemed to grow more excited by such a thought.

Jaedec almost held in a laugh when Bendak had stopped his trek. Spooked by the growls, groans that came from the slow moving corpses that had emerged from the thick jungle brush like phantoms. Jaedec only held a mysterious wonder and awe for them. Spending much time in they're company. "Do not be afraid Brother Bendak. Allow Jaedec to show you how you use such a weapon at Master's control." He spoke as if he had a unique bond with the creatures. Moving slowly in unison with them. Blending in with the crowd. The battle seemed to have distracted much from Kyrel's horde. Noise being a key attractor for these undead creatures. They slowly started to walk, and some even limp towards the camp. A few snarling out, some breaking away to feast on dead Shiddo flesh. Jaedec spoke calmly to ease the nerves of a disturbed Bendak. "No need to fear the children of our Monster. We use them to crush the Jedi in an attack they won't see coming. Even now we reach ever closer... You feel them can't you?" Bendak had only nodded.

Jaedec continued to move in unison with the dead, as they first started to appear in the hundreds, now it seemed as if the horde had reached a thousand dead men. All marching to the chaos raging all around the Jungle. As they neared closer with the camp now coming into view. Jaedec only continued to speak, this time in a new mantra, as if spoken by Kyrel to him. "We walk in darkness, we are free. We bathe in blood, we are free. We love nothing, we are free. We fear nothing, we are free. We need no words, we are free. We embrace all death, we are free." He spoke as the Ren and the horde of the undead slowly started to emerge on the outskirts of the camp.

 

[Glossa]

Location: Western Walls, Goshen War Camp - Lao-mon
Objective: 2 - Tip of the Spear
Allies: BotM ( The Mongrel Marlon Sularen Halketh Romund Sro )
Enemies: SJC ( Sergeant Omen Starlin Rand Artemis Lu ) │ NIO ( Noel Strasza Cromwell ) │ GA ( Damsy Callat The Dark Inquisitor )
Direct Engagement: The Dark Inquisitor Sergeant Omen

Sorcery.

The Jango Jumper howled in frustration and anger as the Zabrak Jedi called a piece of debris into her invisible grasp, harnessing it as a makeshift shield to block the fire Glossa had aimed for her stomach. In the next moment, the shield was thrown in the slave soldier’s direction, the sharpened edge threatening to decapitate her were it not for a sudden, leaping dive to her right, throwing her form to the ground, now fully concealed behind the barricade. While Glossa felt a slight tug in her hands, as if her rifle was attempting to escape her grasp of its own volition, it was not strong enough to remove the weapon from her grip, as the Jedi had lost the line of sight she needed to maintain her focus on executing the ability.

“I’ll show you a monster!” The Jango Jumper howled all the while, green eyes wide with a mix of adrenaline and fear in the midst of violence.

All the while, the Marine sprinting past the Jedi did not elude her sight. Anticipating his arrival, Glossa kicked herself up from the ground with powerful legs, pulling a knife from her boots as she did, wielded in a reverse grip in her left hand. Just then, the Marine came soaring over the barricade, her nostrils flaring with awareness as she processed the shield, the two prongs at the base headed on a trajectory directly towards her neck.

However, where the armored Marine went high, she shifted low.

Lowering her body into a crouch, powerful legs coiled like springs, Glossa moved to plunge her knife via a rapid reverse thrust aimed to punch into the back of the Marine’s right knee, intending to compromise his mobility by ripping through the soft tendons and cartilage in his leg, the blade aimed in a place where armored plating was likely absent to ironically, permit mobility. Then, she rolled past the soldier’s legs in a singular explosive motion, before pulling the hilt back out, hopefully now covered in blood, potentially leaving a crippled Marine in its wake.

“Watch me make you my prey!” She cried out as she executed her counterattack on the Marine, before bringing up her rifle to fire once more after coming out of her roll...

Spoiler: Loadout

• White Pulsiva Bodysuit
  • Supplemental Armor Plating
    • Scavenged Duraplast
      • Vambraces / Greaves / Cuisses / Rerebraces
  • Energy Shield
    • DS-102 “Aegis” Personal Energy Shield
  • B-11 “Greitis” Class Combat Boots
    • Whimsy Knife (2)
• Hekler’Kok FR-01
  • 30-Round Magazine
  • Ammunition
    • Hekler’Kok Polymer Cartridge Ammunition-Explosive
    • Hekler’Kok Polymer Cartridge Ammunition-Armor Piercing
  • Sonic Scope
• FAE/M-01 "Scherezade" Energized Vibroblade
• Flash Grenade (2)
• G-20 Glop Grenade (2)

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Lao-mon, Monastery of Slaughter and surrounding quadrant
Tags: Gir Quee | Tren Chaar | ADM. Reshmar | Liram Angellus

As the disguised Sh'neru fighters came under attack by the Thornwave squadrons, whose pilots thought they were attacking the light freighters their targets were using holoprojectors to appear as, the SJO craft simply dropped their disguises and began to fight back. It was certainly a surprise for the Thornwave pilots, watching the enemy craft seemingly ripple and distort so that starfighters could emerge from them. The Sh'nerus were just as well armed as the Thornwaves, and considerably more maneuverable... but there were several factors that complicated the outcome of the little dogfight that was unfolding.

First, the Thornwaves had begun their attack while the Sh'nerus were disguised, and the power drain of the holographic shell required either the fighter's shields or weapons to be disabled while it was in use; that gave the Thornwaves an initial advantage, either in doing damage or in delaying the enemy's return fire. Second, the defenses of the Thornwaves were stronger; their shields had never been down, and were stronger than average for a fighter. Third, although the Sh'nerus were nimble, they were also unusually large for starfighters... and that made them big targets, easier to hit with wide sprays of blaster cannon fire.

In the end, the dogfight might have gone either way. Three squadrons of the bulky Sh'nerus, which you could only fit so many of into a hangar bay, was the same number of craft as two squadrons of Thornwaves, and each had their advantages. But before the aerial duel could go on for too long, the vast, overwhelming fleets of the SJC and their allies began jumping into the system, and the Thornwaves fell back toward the protection of the vast fighter swarm around the Monastery of Slaughter. Several of the fighters had been destroyed in that brief encounter; hopefully they'd given as good as they'd got.

The Sh'nerus could pursue, but they'd quickly end up heavily outnumbered.

So far, only the fighter cloud - and the Dark Voice's command ship, presently luring in the high-profile borders that the Sith Lord intended to destroy personally - had appeared to defend Lao-mon and its orbital monastery. No other ships, no Samael frigates or Crucifix destroyers or their larger Praetorian cousins, had formed up around the defensive station. It seemed a paltry offering to hold back the likes of the Emerald Undertow and the large fleet accompanying it, especially given that it seemed the Maw had detected the incoming invaders some time before they'd reached the Lao-mon system. Perhaps something else was at play here.

As the SJC fleet launched its fighters, dispatching squadrons to assist with the ground operations below, the swarm of Mawite craft around the monastery did not intervene. They let the enemy craft pass them by, entering Lao-mon's atmosphere to join the battle above Goshen. And as the Emerald Undertow's long-range weapons targeted the Monastery of Slaughter, they simply parted slightly, keeping out of the way. They trusted in the extremely heavy defenses of the monastery, powerful shields and hulking armor plating, to see it through for the moment. Until the next phase of the plan, which was already beginning.

Suddenly, the SJC battle group's sensors lit up with incoming hyperspace contacts. Based on the readings, there was a substantial Mawite fleet approaching the system, intending to jump in behind the SJC forces and sandwich them between the Brotherhood ships and the fighter swarm surrounding the monastery. The grim truth became all too clear in that moment: the Mawites had been waiting, waiting for the SJC to launch their starfighters toward Lao-mon's surface and thereby divide their forces. Then they would catch the invaders in a crossfire by jumping in behind them, with the enemy's divided numbers giving them fighter superiority.

There were only moments to react before the Mawite fleet reverted to realspace...

 

[The Dark Inquisitor]

Obejctive: Tip of the Spear
Tags: Sergeant Omen Glossa
Take down the warrior

---

Witnessing her agility had become almost appreciable. She was highly skilled, yet her reaction to Kinhaes using the Force was almost like she hadn't witnessed it before. Strange. But a thought to dwell on later. Seeing Omen's attack to pin the warrior down failing with her moving under him, attempting a strike against his body, Kinhaes felt a pang of pain and fear across her body. Her mind flashed images of that day. Her master, fighting his last battle against five Sith Warriors. The wounds. The screaming. It was all to much then. But now, she was able to help.

Her golden blades glowed for a bit longer, before she deactivated them. The crackling light ceasing its yellow beacon. Seeing the warrior aim her rifle again, Kinhaes focused all she could at the woman, and using her strongest Force Push to knock her flying. She had done something similar in training, and it didn't end well for her target being launched 20 meters away. With the force power finished, she twirled the sabers in her hands before igniting them, letting their light reflect in her visor. "Leave him alone!" Kinhaes yelled, her distorted voice coming out as a menacing roar. Instantly, she began to run at the warrior preparing to knock her weapon off target via a Force Push. The blades of plasma hummed its high pitched sound of war as she neared the Warrior.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Maestus​

He would admit that the heat was getting to him a bit. Robes did not make for the best attire when it came to storming the humid jungles of an alien world. The outer layers of his robes had been swiftly stripped away, leaving his upper torso bare aside from a thin sleeveless tunic. The sweat from exertion and humidity causing the fabric to stick to his skin. For anyone else, charging headfirst into a heavily fortified war camp of slavers with virtual no armor would be a death sentence.

Thankfully, Aaran had a few advantages over the common man. Supernatural reflexes and an eerily accurate perception of the world around him made for a virtually untouchable opponent for many of the Maw's forces to deal with.

But even with all of his advantages. With all of his power. he still found himself pressed by the seemingly endless numbers the Brotherhood of the Maw were able to bring to bear against the Galactic Defenders.

It did make sense after all, they had spent so much time gathering momentum, resources, followers, influence. And now these rumours of a true Sith order in their ranks. One that harkened back to the true enemy of the Jedi. Not the Fascist Regime with occult trappings that had called itself the Sith Empire.

He'd be lying if he said the threat of true Sith did not concern him. What with the relations between the Galactic Alliance and the New Jedi Order growing more tense with each passing day. All of it leading up a bubbling cauldron that was simply ready to overflow into a conflict that would make the Imperial Civil War look like a schoolyard brawl.

All of these thoughts and more were filtering through the back of his mind as he fought his way deeper into the camp. At no point giving any concious attention to where his body went or how his saber swung. Transcending the notion of thinking out each move and instead becoming a being of pure intent.

He was here to free people from their suffering. Be it through the severing of the chains that held the innocent. Or the swift edge of a plasma blade for those who relished in the torment of others. He simply followed the thread of the Force, once again asking it to lead him towards a shatterpoint so that he may attempt to put an end to the madness that plagued this world.

It was not long before a familiar presence brushed against his senses. Hungry, excited, crazed. He took a brief moment to inwardly sigh as he recalled who it was. One of the first of the Maw's warriors he had faced. Not promoted to one of their generals. His lips forming a thin line, he began to make his way through the crazed battlefield.

"Via." He finally called out, using her true name, blindfolded gaze landing on her form. And through his esoteric senses he could feel the immense growth in power since the last time he saw her. It seemed she had taken his words to heart, also showing exponential growth since the last time they met.

He was very glad that he never became complacent in his own strength. Always growing, never satisfied with his current level of strength.

"Much as I can guess what your response is." He said, already approaching her, golden blade ignited at his side, still idly keeping his senses alert from any sneak attacks from her allies.

"I'm giving you a chance to surrender. To stand down. And that offer will remain open."

It was still an offer that had to be made. His ideals would allow nothing else. Mercy must be offered, change and self-improvement was a possibility for anyone. Even those so utterly set in her ways. But it was unlikely that Via would take the offer. For her current way of life was so utterly ingrained within her that it was the only way to survive. Any other path in life would simply be a waste.

So, it was up to Aaran to show her there were other ways. Other paths, other choices. No matter how many times it took.

Until one of them was dead.