Invasion Double Tap | TSC Invasion of COV-held Abregado-rae

[Vess Sadragen]

Another volley of blaster fire cracked overhead, violet light meeting it almost instinctively as Vess held the line. The pistol Arris had given her barked twice in quick succession, forcing a pair of Mandalorians back behind cover before another Covenant soldier hurried into the space she'd just bought them.

The familiar distortion of space caught the corner of her eye.

Lily.

Relief settled quietly into her chest as the woman appeared beside her, amber joining violet in a practiced rhythm that needed little thought between them.

"There you are."

There wasn't time for anything more. Another barrage came screaming toward the barricade, both lightsabers moving together as they turned the incoming fire away from the ritual site behind them. For a few precious moments, the battle became almost simple again.

One problem at a time.

It was almost enough to keep everything else at the edge of her mind.

Almost.

The pyres still burned behind them. The smell clung stubbornly to every breath she took, while ash drifted steadily across the battlefield and settled over armour, weapons and broken stone alike. Somewhere beyond the smoke, another explosion rolled through the city, followed by the groan of collapsing structures. Overhead, the sky itself seemed wrong now. Great shapes shifted beyond the clouds, accompanied by the slow ticking of machinery so immense she couldn't convince herself she was actually hearing it.

She tried not to look as another wave struck the perimeter. Vess stepped forward to meet it, intercepting another bolt before answering with the pistol. A Covenant legionnaire stumbled backwards into her, armour hissing where burning acid had begun eating through it. She caught him instinctively, pulling him clear just as one of the winged horrors dived from above.

The violet blade flashed upward; the creature split cleanly in two.

"...What are those?"

The battlefield was changing faster than she could make sense of; the pyres suddenly swelled, masses of twisted flesh erupting as thousands of winged creatures tore free, blotting out sections of the sky. They scattered in every direction, shrieking as they descended upon soldiers from both sides. Acid rained wherever they struck, eating through armour and stone alike while crimson spores drifted ever thicker through the air.

Beside her, Lily stopped moving only for a heartbeat. It was enough for Vess to notice. She glanced sideways just in time to catch the distant look settling across Lily's face.

"Lily?"

There was no answer before she could ask again; a tank shell slammed into one of the pyres. The explosion showered the drop site in burning flesh that should have died where it landed. Instead, it bloomed, crimson growth spreading rapidly across shattered stone as more of the winged horrors burst into the air.

Two of them broke away from the swarm, diving straight toward the barricade. Vess met the first with her lightsaber, its body tumbling into the second before both crashed heavily into the street. The impact forced her back a step as Covenant soldiers shouted further down the line.

She turned instinctively, only for a moment when she looked back, Lily had drifted several paces away, staring into the smoke as though someone stood just beyond it.

"Lily."

This time there was an edge to her voice. Another wave hit the perimeter as blaster fire erupted from three directions at once, forcing Vess to step into the gap as Covenant troops scrambled to reinforce the collapsing section of barricade. She held the line long enough for them to recover, never taking more than a few steps from where she'd been standing.

When the pressure finally eased, the smoke had thickened into ash, and crimson spores drifted together until visibility had collapsed to only a handful of metres. Vess looked back toward where she'd last seen Lily.

Nothing.

Only silhouettes moving through the haze. Her grip tightened around the pistol.

"Lily?"

She didn't move from the barricade, not yet. The line still had to hold.

​

Direct TAG: Lily Rhodes
Indirect Direct TAG: Arris Windrun Quinn Varanin Revna Marr

 

[Revna Marr]

Wearing:
Ring || Lightsaber || Armor​

Revna knew that war was chaos, and it only invited more chaos. As a Sith, she thrived in that turmoil. She was able to take and manipulate the energy that moved all around them, and utilize it for her own purposes and gain.

But she couldn’t control when forces outside her direct influence spiraled out of control.

Everything was going relatively well, at least she thought it was, until it decidedly was not. In the blink of an eye, the so called Mandalorians seemed to spring a trap that had been laid for the Sith. Even as the little Sith woman blocked and redirected plasma bolts fired her way, she watched the skies above her head split open as a battle truly began to wage in orbit above the besieged planet. Worse yet was the thinning veil between reality and the Nether…and then that veil shredded and undiluted dread poured over the war-torn and plague infested landscape.

On top of that, the telepathic connection she shared to A’Mia and to all those who carried her boon, began to ripple with powerful emotions and then visions were forcibly interjected into her mind - its source stemming from Mercy who seemed, far too excited and eager over the outright slaughter and destruction being wrought.

All of it combined, and then the overwhelming raw keening of her Soul-Sister that tore into her own mind and spirit - slammed into Darth X’aviera all at once.

In the middle of her fight, she stuttered and stumbled. She failed to block several incoming rifle shots and they slammed directly into her armor. It shrugged off most of the impacts - but she could not sustain much more directed fire. One or two would eventually get through.

Bogan DAMMIT - Revna felt and heard herself scream in frustration and with the sudden spike of fear that stabbed through her. What the actual feth is going on?! What just happened?!

She was disoriented, nearly overwhelmed by everything being forced through her bond, into her mind.

And then came a heavy impact close by to her, then another. Her entire body lit up with a ripple of warning, and she moved without thinking, narrowly avoiding being crushed by a crate that seemed to fall out of the sky.

Anger and frustration bubbled up and boiled over and flooded into the connection that bound her with everyone else, as she was forced to pull away from her target, from her fight. A message was delivered through her comm, indicating that Sith forces needed to regroup and rally around the heart site.

Then somewhere in the city beyond her came a massive explosion, the shockwave ripping across the landscape, toppling towers and buildings. The force of the blast, though not fatal to Revna, was enough to send her off her feet, and slam her against some rubble a short distance away.

High above the surface, in orbit, a great battle waged. The Mandalorian fleet was firing on the Sith Covenant fleet, pouring everything they had into their enemy. Some of their shots hit their target, but some missed and rained down fiery hell upon the surface of Abregado-rae.

Revna hadn’t moved from where she had collapsed in the rubble after the blast from the explosion had caught her off guard. She was still alive, though dazed and disoriented. She registered pain from somewhere, but the sheer amount of adrenaline that dumped through her veins dulled its edges. She subconsciously registered that she was in grave danger; she had been in a fight, and she now had no idea where her enemies were in relation to her current position.

That moment of weakness, when her guard was let down or fractured, was the moment her Void Hunger had been oh so patiently waiting for. She felt it surge up and through her a fraction too late.

No…N-NO! - Revna internally screamed - before her vision turned utterly red and she lost almost all awareness of herself.

Violent hunger, the overwhelming need to utterly consume everything - would tear through the bond that connected Revna to A’Mia, to Lily, to Alisteri, to everyone. Mercy would feel it too - a monster trying to crawl through, and rip them asunder, without care or concern for familial bonds or the threads that bound allies together. Buried beneath, however, was Revna’s presence - fighting with everything she had within her to keep control of the Hunger that sought to overcome her will with its own.

She was a sitting duck for any Mandalorian foes nearby, or so it might appear to them.

But even with the chaos and utter destruction that was raining down on Sith, civilian, and Mandalorian forces alike - the red ash continued to drift and fall, spreading the plague further as it went - undeterred by the carnage being wrought across the surface of Abregado-rae.
​

Direct Tag: Sindel Krymer

Others: Madrona A’Mia || Darth Strosius || Lily Rhodes || Mercy - and anyone else who might be connected to the Telepathic Weave


​

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Arris Windrun //: Siv Dragr //: Kamon Hourn //:
//: Lily Rhodes //: Vess Sadragen //:

The wind burned cold against her skin, sinking into her spine as she felt everything change. Her hand pulled back, the other tightening on the shaft of the silver spear, its weight suddenly apparent. Each blow of the breeze carried death, decay, and the poison bleeding into the planet.

It made her sick.

Was this what it meant to be a Sith? To not care for the balance of life, to see sentients as fuel for the machine? Was this what she was to inherit when her Mother chose to step down, or worse, perish? Was this the legacy that she was to continue?

None of it made sense anymore. A seed of doubt weighed heavily in the Echani's heart, her mind remembering the beauty of Eshan and how life there was easy. But within the Empire of the Sith Order, pain and suffering were par for the course. She had seen the worlds beyond the wall and while they were no better, ruled at times by even more monstrous creatures — was this the best?

What if they didn't have to fight anymore? Was that even a choice?

Quinn shook her head. She knew the answer, and if she could, she would force her will to stop all of this when she became Empress. She would make a change; until then — this was her life, this was her job, this was the power of the Dark Side.

The surge of confidence was suddenly cut down. She could feel Arris; the woman was as much a part of her as the Phobis Core in her chest. Having the dark influence she possessed only made their hearts beat as one, so when the sudden panic bled through their connection, it was all Quinn could think of.

Arris.

She shouldn't have sent her away. Her precious Arris…

Stepping back, the crown atop the Echani's head grew into a grotesque shape, elongating and covering her eyes and nose. It allowed her a bit more clarity with everything that was happening and Arris' surging emotions. Quinn needed to find her quickly. There was a sense of responsibility for the Triumvirate; she had given her the power, she had made her go away, and now Arris was in trouble.

There was no waiting to see what impact she had done to the men she was fighting; Arris was far more important.

Her heel turned; the Force around her swelled as time and space ripped open. In a blink, the Echani had disappeared into the folds of the Force; she was spit out near where she had last felt Arris. Looking back, it wasn't too far from their drop site, but far enough that she would have had to carve her way through the plagued bodies.

But even then, she wasn't safe.

The first civilian lunged before Quinn could think.

There had been a woman beneath the plague. Quinn could still see her beneath the blackened veins and blood-stained teeth. A blue scarf remained twisted around her neck, and a wedding band clung to one ruined hand.

But there was nothing human left in her eyes.

Asarsi, her blessed spear, moved before Quinn's thoughts could catch up. The silver blade slipped beneath the woman's ribs. Quinn twisted once, then withdrew the spear before the body could collapse around it.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

A blaster bolt suddenly struck the stone beside her.

Iron Covenant Mandalorians descended into the street, their jetpacks scattering ash across the bodies. One fired into the infected crowd without concern for what he hit.

Somewhere beyond them was Arris, her Arris.

Quinn had last seen the Triumvir disappear into the smoke before a rocket struck the building beside her. Since then, there had been nothing. She took a second, one that she would eventually regret, to look for Arris's raven head.

"Arris?" Quinn called.

Silence answered her.

Suddenly, a blast from the sky rained upon them. Quinn shielded herself, bringing her arms crossed in front as her head ducked behind. Everything- bodies, ichor, and debris was kicked up as the kinetic wave pulsed through the air. Where the heat should have burned the stench, it only made it worse.

Quinn grounded herself in the Force, making herself stable as she was pushed back. Silence breathed for just a second, but the chaos soon returned. Heavenly fire rained down on them, causing more havoc.

Her eyes widened at the sight of hell around her, but she didn't have time…

More civilians spilled from the surrounding buildings, clawing at each other and anything living. Some turned toward the Mandalorians; the rest rushed Quinn.

Arris could take care of herself. She had survived worse than this. She was made of metal, stubbornness, and more violence than Quinn cared to consider. But was that because of the darkness she fed her? Or was Arris' true nature that of the darker side of the Force?

The reassurance did nothing to comfort the young Echani.

Quinn adjusted her grip, and Asarsi became an extension of her.

The spearhead darted between grasping hands and snapping jaws, piercing throats and the soft spaces beneath ribs. When the infected came too close, Quinn shortened her grip and fought with the reinforced shaft instead.

A thrust.

A turn.

A sharp pull as she tore the blade free.

Every movement carried her closer to where she had last seen Arris.
A Mandalorian met her with a beskad. He was stronger, and his beskar protected most of what her spear could reach.

Most of it.

Quinn yielded until he committed to the attack. She twisted Asarsi, guiding his blade away before striking the gap beside his knee. His stance buckled. The spearhead found the seam beneath his arm, and Quinn pushed until the resistance disappeared.

A whipcord wrapped around Asarsi before she could withdraw it.

Instead of resisting, Quinn allowed the second Kestrian to pull her forward. She closed the distance, winding the cord around the spear as she moved. One turn exposed the space beneath his helmet.
The silver blade slipped through it.

"Die." Quinn whispered as she felt his life slip from his lips.

Once more she fed upon the Mandalorian, drawing his life, his soul into her own. She felt the resurgence of energy, the sweat on her brow cooling as she breathed with less resistance. His life fed hers; his soul would serve her in battle.

Flames erupted across the street.

Quinn froze as a Mandalorian vambrace poured fire through the infected. Burning bodies stumbled forward, still reaching for anything alive. For one terrible moment, Quinn was small again, listening to the roar of a flamethrower while the heat crawled across her skin.

Then she saw the flames spreading toward the street where Arris had disappeared.

Her fear changed.

She saw the Mandalorian in gold armor burning her room, her life on Eshan, claiming it was a cleansing. She was to die; she was to bleed and burn like the Monster she was.

But she wasn't that child again; she had become the Monster they all wanted.

Quinn drove Asarsi into the ground. Cold answered through the weapon, spreading across the stones in a violent wave. Frost swallowed the flames beneath a cloud of white vapor.

The Mandalorian hesitated.

Quinn didn't.

She pulled Asarsi free and advanced.

A wrist rocket flew toward her. Quinn swept the spear outward, bending its path with the Force. The rocket struck a nearby building, throwing civilians and Iron Covenant Mandalorians from their feet.

Another Mandalorian launched himself at her with his jetpack. Quinn waited, reading the angle of his shoulders and the turn of his hips. At the last moment, she stepped aside and drove Asarsi's shaft across his chest. She redirected his momentum rather than fighting it; the spearhead followed, piercing his jetpack.

He struck the ground hard enough to crack the stone.

Quinn reversed her grip and drove the blade through the seam beneath his breastplate.

There was no wasted movement.

She fought like an Echani, a woman with the legacy of the women before her. Each movement screamed of her teacher, her master — Her Mother.

Memories of her Mother's teachings, the gentle but stern words that turned into action that would protect her. She hadn't grown up on Eshan, but she was their Queen. The daughter of Queens and Empresses.

Nothing would ever take that from her.

Their Beskar armor couldn't hide their weakness from her. Every twitch betrayed a lunge; every turn warned her where the next weapon would fall.

Still, her attention remained divided.

Every explosion made her search the smoke.

Every burst of blaster fire tightened something inside her chest.

Quinn told herself her concern was practical. Arris was valuable. Losing the Triumvir would weaken everything they were trying to accomplish. The Sith Covenant had already lost one; to lose another would create a power vacuum. One that Quinn could see them surviving, but at what cost. Her mind thought quietly to Mercy and how the woman often bayed about her paperwork.

It was easier than acknowledging the truth.

The last Mandalorian fired over the body of an infected woman. Quinn caught his rifle beneath Asarsi's crossguard and forced the barrel down. Her spear slid across his breastplate until its point found the narrow space beneath his chin.

One thrust silenced him.

Quinn barely watched him fall.

She pulled Asarsi free and continued toward the smoke, her pace quickening as the silence stretched between them.

"Arris!"

Nothing.

Quinn stepped over the dead, holding the bloodied spear ready before her.

Suddenly, as she was prepared to face the truth, she felt Arris. The surge of emotion wavered as if there was a semblance of doubt or something more plaguing her. Was this death? Could she die? Again Quinn was left with questions as she walked, stepping through and over the dead that scattered around her. She had seen for just a moment the Cyborg's raven hair flowing in the rancid air.

Not only did Arris's emotions call to her, but the darkness that swelled inside of her. It fed and flourished, twisting everything the woman was into something it wanted to feel. Quinn felt hot tears gathering, flowing from the corners of her eyes.

Had she plagued Arris with something that she couldn't handle? Was this all of her fault? She watched in the distance as Arris seemingly looked to be talking to someone. Quinn didn't understand, but she felt guilty.

Why did she ruin everyone around her?

"Arris?"

She called out again. The gun fired off, and Quinn's eyes widened. Instantly, her feet moved, the tip of the spear dragging for just a moment until she picked up her pace. As she drew closer, the spear shifted, transforming into a bloody brooch on the girl's chest, and she ran.

Lungs burned with the poisonous air, her body channeling the Force to purge it from her body. She could feel and hear the sound of blood on the pavement as her boots stuck to the ground. It didn't matter; she needed to get to Arris. She needed to reclaim the horrible thing she had poisoned her with.

A hand reached out, grabbing at the Cyborg as she looked at Arris, her own features, her once white blonde hair now covered in the blood of the hundreds she had just murdered to get to her.

"Arris! You don't have to do this…"

 

[Lily Rhodes]

Tags: Vess Sadragen Madrona A’Mia Arris Windrun Cruelty Srina Talon​

We are the end of this planet… and the next one. And the next…

There was so much noise.

So many minds tangled in her web and she couldn’t quiet them. She couldn’t find Vess, or Revna. She couldn’t see anything through the thickening fog as panic rose. What had she done? She had to stop it, she had to do something. Her amber blade deactivated with a hiss as she turned back towards the tree, towards the source of it all.

She didn’t need to see A’Mia to know where she was, their connection had been the first in the web so she focused on the creaking bark and rustle of leaves, taking one step towards it when blue light cut through the fog. One. Two. Three. A dozen of them rose high into the sky, casting sickly shadows over the burning pyres.

For one blissful moment, there was silence.

Then something mechanical screamed over her head, and all hell broke loose. Ordnance began to rain down around her, chunks of metal came hurtling through the air as a TIE was taken down, its body bouncing once, twice, before slamming into the base of a pyre where it exploded, the fire feeding the blood red fungus as it blossomed, devouring the ship and whoever had been left in it.

She had to move. She had to find Vess. She had to find Arris. She needed to know if Arris had known, if she felt as sick as she did. Her boots slid across slick flesh masses as she ran, scanning every break in the fog to find her. Vess had been towards the front line, but that front line was gone. Lily caught a glimpse of purple, to her left, pivoting hard to move towards it when a dropship slammed into the earth in front of her, the slide to stop herself landing her on her backside, she twisted immediately scrambling back to her feet as the door exploded outwards, heavy boots stepping out as she reignited her blade.

Then her mind exploded, Mercy was tearing through the web, pouring what she could already see back through it. The destruction the Mandalorians were wreaking, in their desperation to eradicate the Covenant. Death upon death, pain over pain, so much that she couldn’t see what was and wasn’t her eyes, that here and there became one place.

Turbolasers, mass driver rounds, and warheads streaked through Yuri’s fleet to reach them, as Tyrant was pinned between the enemy and the planet on its approach to low orbit. The Tyranny was hit. Some weapons breached the holes in the shields, scorching armor. Others missed altogether, raining down on Abregado-rae itself.

The drop pod exploded, heavy ordnance slammed into it from above, the mandalorian was obliterated and the shock wave slammed into Lily, sending her flying. Her lightsaber slipped from her fingers as she hit the ground, sliding several meters before coming to a stop.

Pain was everywhere and for a moment, Lily wanted to do nothing more than close her eyes, to wake from the nightmare she had been thrust into. With a grown she rolled onto her side, and then to all fours as Arris’ voice cracked over the comms calling for a regroup. Her hand extended, recalling her falling saber as she managed to shift upright onto one knee.

Something hot slammed into her shoulder, pain screaming through the limb as it knocked her backwards, three more bolts skimming over where her head had just been. As a single thought struck her.

She was going to die here.

Here on a fucking planet she didn’t even care about, because she dared to follow a woman who offered her a path no one else had bothered, who didn’t try to force her into one mould or another.

Fuck that.

She reached into her pocket, fingers curling around the injector Arris had given her before they dropped. Just in case. She didn’t bother pulling it out, checking the dose. She pressed in against the fabric of her pocket and clicked it, just as a mandalorians boot landed on her chest, the barrel of his weapon moving to level with her head.

Lily’s sense came alive, pain vanished into a mere thought as a buzz began at the base of her skull. She grabbed the foot, heaving it off of her as the mandalorian fired, his shot slamming into the earth by her ear, surprised by the sudden strength as she rolled out from under him. Anger rose in her, fury like nothing else, cold unrelenting fury.

It wasn’t hers. It came with the scent of jasmine and rain and with the scream of the Hordemother. All that mattered was that she had to survive. He shot again, Lily ducked underneath it surging upwards to catch him around the middle, folding the force around both of them. She teleported them up and for a few sickening moments, gravity was dragging them towards the earth. Lily let him go, kicking him away from her and teleported again, lightsaber snapping to life as it scored a line along his jet pack.

Again, the world folded around her, her feet settling on hard ground once more as she started to walk, behind her, the mandalorian dropped, his body crumpling against the earth with a sickening crunch.

Her hands were shaking, not with fear of fury, but because the stims were taking a minute to settle. She didn’t have time to breathe, couldn’t take a second to let them…

And Lily would feel it across the telepathic link, as would Mercy, as would Quinn. As would anyone else: Arris Windrun’s sadness, confusion, and hopelessness give way to rushing anger. She gritted her teeth, wanting nothing more than to scream, throw her hands, give up. But then her expression softened.

“You’re right.”

Bang.

Violent hunger, the overwhelming need to utterly consume everything - would tear through the bond that connected Revna to A’Mia, to Lily, to Alisteri, to everyone. Mercy would feel it too - a monster trying to crawl through, and rip them asunder, without care or concern for familial bonds or the threads that bound allies together. Buried beneath, however, was Revna’s presence - fighting with everything she had within her to keep control of the Hunger that sought to overcome her will with its own.

The two aspects collided as another mandalorian, overwhelming hunger and rage and Lily doubled over and screamed, reaching violently through the web for the one that wasn’t Mercy.

<< “Help. Me”>>

 

[Chomba Womba]

​

Objective: BYOO - Chomba's very bad, absolutely no good, terribly ruined day! NOW IN SPACE!

Chomba wiped at the front window, this was not real. Chomba was in dream land. Chomba must be dreaming. "First Sith. Then apocalypse. Then Mandalorans. Then Zombies. Now GHOSTS!" Chomba was devastated, what was next? Demons? Kajius? Mythological monstrosities? Chomba shuddered at the thoughts and squirmed in his peeling leather seat in all different ways. His hands chaotically slapping around, pushing random buttons and flicking all switches that he could, poor Chomba was afraid that his heart could not handle any more jump scares or new horrors wishing him dead. He at least knew that zombies were no longer going to plague him, or at least Chomba believed this to be the case, unaware that his ship was potentially still contaminated with spores.

As Chomba was frantically flying his ship that made the vessel lurch and jump around erratically and to outsiders, they could falsely assume someone incredibly drunk was behind the wheel of the ship. Chomba was also having to draw the hyperspace jump that would get him out of this hellhole. "Chomba don't care where pooter, just not here. Here is bad!" Chomba shouted at the navicomputer, believing that the navicomputer could understand him as long as he was shouting loudly.

There was a buffer loading on the barely functional navicomputer, Chomba stared at the screen as it buffered. Chomba believed to that the buffering would take longer if he looked away for even a second. So Chomba was very unaware where his ship was flying or heading towards. He did not realise that he was flying directly in between two capital ships' line of fire. As the buffer continued to spin, Chomba impatiently tapped his foot on the floor of the cockpit. "Pooter! This is too long! Don't make Chomba look away! Chomba will!" Chomba threatened.

As he said this, the navicomputer pinged with a rough jump and estimated it would take 10 minutes to get the damaged hyperdrive ready to jump. "Chomba knew the threat would work! 10 minutes though?! Chomba not sure he can expert fly that long!" Chomba sighed, feeling the weight of the challenge resting on his shoulders, he would have to persevere and demonstrate why Chomba was a great smuggler like he always told people he was. Looking back out the front window of the ship, Chomba took a couple minutes to soak in what he was seeing. Then the loudest, most terrified scream since he saw the zombies for the first time.

"CHOMBA DID NOT WANT TO BE HERE! CHOMBA REALLY NEEDS TO FLY NOW!" Going back to the frantic flying, Chomba was slapping away at the controls, desperately trying to figure out the best way to avoid being blown to smithereens. "nononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononono!" Chomba mumbled in fearful chanting as he grips the main controller, "time for the impenetrable shield!" Chomba shouted as he hard twisted the controller in one direction.

The whole S.S. Starship began to spin, flying erratically and spinning in space. "Spinning trick, Chomba knows this makes ship impossible to hit!" Chomba proudly stated as he held onto the controls. "Just need to keep spinning till Chomba is safe! Chomba can handle this!" Chomba was already feeling queasy and it had only been a few seconds. There was still another nine minutes till the ship was ready to jump.

 

[Naniti]

One Togruta Against The World
Anet Raine | Calyx Sundrift | Feydrik Munin
Varin Mortifer | Naamino Zuukamano | Braze | Korar Murrak
Vrirrig Awaud | Darth Carnifex
Helix | Iris Beroya​

Lysander von Ascania would have hated this.

Naniti sat atop an external scaffolding of one of the factories with her legs dangling beneath her. It had afforded her a view of the surrounding area and even that of the horizon where A'Mia worked. Her eyes shone blue as the day enveloped in darkness; whether that was from the sun having set or the plumes of black smoke that sought to choke out life before the fungus had a chance she couldn't tell any longer. Concussive waves brought on by bombs dropped over the air pounded against her ears and montrals alike. The screech of metal torn, bent, and broken were little daggers in the mind. The air was acrid and foul and touched by a warmth not of the hearth, but of rage.

Was this how it had been on Humbarine? Lysander had spoken of it afterward. Spoken of storms and afflictions, enormous creatures and ruin. Perhaps there would have been something to connect it to Jakku as well, but that world was already devoid of civilization -- no one could tell the difference before and after the Sith's arrival to harry the Jedi.

He hadn't said anything about Mercy using the telepathic network to share sights and sounds of war, however. Was that different this time? Had something changed? Perhaps it was just the Empress's prerogative this time. The woman had a fierce temper. Naniti empathized.

A sigh escaped her dark lips as she tilted her head back to gaze up at the sky. One couldn't even find something familiar or comforting there. Not with the Mandalorians -- or a cosmic joke of a coincidence -- having torn open a rift to the Netherworld and brought forth ships and armies through its gaping maw churning above. If it were not so transparent it might be mistaken for a singularity. Strange beauty.

The Togruta had chosen this spot because her talent said it was safe. Bits and pieces of shrapnel littered the area from Mandalorian aerial bombardment. Meanwhile, Helix's molten hellscape terraforming found different structures to raze. Most importantly? It had given her a brief respite. A place to reflect on how best to serve. What service meant.

Suffering and death were familiar sensations. Mercy might not think Naniti as toughened as she should be from a lack of leading wave after wave of butchery, but fear had not stayed her hand. Lysander had needed more than a blunt instrument. He had plenty of those he could coax into action. So, she'd chosen a subtler form of influence and control. Not one your traditional Sith Lord would appreciate. Not even Naniti's old Master. So, there she was, getting served visions of suffering and death, hearing the lamentations of the living and soon departed, and feeling the very planet she was on cry out as all life might soon perish from its surface.

Another sigh. Naniti snorted. She craned her head to one side to both feel and hear the pop. Well, enough recouperating from the long dash from the dropship to the factories. Time to get back to it then. Lysander might have hated this scene, but it was all too comfortable for Naniti. Worse, Lysander wasn't there to distract her from the work.

With a shove off the platform, the violet woman sailed out into the open air and let gravity guide her back down in a leisurely arch. Foot and hand lighted upon the side of a building for a faction of a second before she shoved back the way she'd came. It only took a few such leaps to bound down from the lofty heights and to the broken, obsctructed roads below between factories. Large transports lay in ruin with their battieries exposed and burning in the air. Cargo containers were strewn all about. Even entire sides of buildings had collapsed from the onslaught and formed a tangled web of duracret and durasteel.

A broken city. A dying world. And the twisted visages of life that stalked it still. Life driven by the singular purpose Madrona A’Mia drove into their very being.

Naniti didn't look back at them, her soles scraped against the ground as she bolted forward toward the wreckage and fire. Flesh reveaers had picked up the scent once more. She could literally feel them at a distance. Their own means of tracking prey mimicked her own. Two species capable of echolocation, each aware of the other with no where to hide so long as you were in range.

Little did they know that their prey, however, had other plans for them.

Open​

 

[Tytos Saxon]

S T O R M B O R N

STARRY SKY​

Allies: He-Who-Walks-Between |@Gel Karn | MANDALORIANS

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ENGAGING: Madrona A’Mia
Associated: Darth Strosius | Revna Marr | Lily Rhodes | Vess Sadragen | SITH

As the arcane began to spool from his fingers, thick green energy coalesced around his hand, spiralling upwards past his forearms, Tytos took stock of his surroundings. The virus seemed to be airborne; he could ascertain as a summarized readout of comm interactions played through his helmet feed. Though his companion wore a helmet that was likely filtered enough, Tytos had foregone his in the rush to arrive in combat. No matter; he wove an adiabatic shield around himself and Karn, a standard Kadir'litr spell that would ward off any sort of airborne contamination. The two were surrounded by a mass of pulsating red flesh -- the virus -- and legions of Sith troopers that were beginning to take stock of the two Mandalorians that had just warped into their fold.

"You don't need to tell me twice", Gel replied as he readied himself for the impending battle. In his right hand, he grabbed Akalenedat, and on his left arm his Variable Plasma Shield Gauntlet activated to its middle setting, not overly large nor overly small. His Mandalorian Lanvarok was fully loaded and ready to fire at the first sign of trouble, and Gel could feel the weight of his tools from the Bandolier strapped across his chest. He flicked down the Macrobinoculars attached to his Recon Helmet so that he could begin feeding information to Tytos and the Mandalorian battle net at large, though he wasn't entirely sure what Tytos would do with such information. In fact, he couldn't tell exactly what Tytos was doing at all, though he did notice that some sort of green mist was starting to leak from Tytos's fingers, wisping away into the atmosphere of the planet they were on.

"Tell me Vod, how can I best assist you? I am...unfamiliar with your arcane arts, but I will do my best to support you in any way that I can. Where shall I start?", Gel asked of Tytos as the expectation of violence gripped at his heart. It was only a matter of time before the Sith responded in kind, and Gel was more than ready to start smashing heads in with his hammer...

Immediately before he could respond, a volley of blasterfire erupted around them on all sides. "Get down!" Tytos shouted, throwing out his hands and summoning a Force barrier that coalesced in an iridescent lavender-blue bubble around the two. The blaster bolts collided violently with the shield, creating sparks of energy that danced off of the half-translucent dome. Tytos maintained the shield for a moment, then when he could see the cadence of blaster fire had dropped, he released the pent-up energy in a violent, obliterating wave of dark side power in all directions, creating a wide crater where they had stood. The Sith troopers that had fired on them, the pulsating flesh that had surrounded them -- all destroyed. Tytos raised himself higher to grimly survey the carnage, though he felt little empathy for the tools of the Sith.

"Stand," he commanded the Smith. "We are deep within the foes' territory. Ready your weapons and follow my lead. Trust in the Manda." He smiled warmly at Karn; Tytos could empathize if Gel was feeling overwhelmed by the sudden carnage of battle. The shaman would not let his charge die here today on Abregado-Rae.

The city was burning, but Tytos could feel the tide turning. The swarm of Mandalorian forces was like a massive boulder that had entered a serene lake; ripples like waves that now extended through the Force. Against the iron tide he could sense another web; one emanating from further on, the center of the Sith horde; another from up above. Both emanated fear, and he could feel spindly tangles in the Force attempting to smother the Mandalorian horde, the attempt to subvert the natives defending their own homes. . .

Even now, the Mandalorian alliance threatened to waver.

"Ancestors," Tytos intoned deeply, invoking the presence of the Manda who watched carefully over this battle. He could feel their presence like never before as He-Who-Walks-Between led the hordes of the Fields of Blade into battle above. The true Mando'ade were neither Jedi nor Sith, but the Force did not belong to any religion. Fingers reached up towards his talisman that had begun to glow brighter and brighter, the ancient spirit trapped inside its kyr'lyatr crystal being called upon for strength.

Then Tytos's eyes opened, taken over by a bright green glow; a burst of air shot from him like a shockwave as his mind left the simple confines of his mortal frame, expanding across the entire battlescape. The Force flowed through him as a conduit, and the spirits of the Manda entered into perfect communion with him. Their past experiences, their knowledge, their instinct all melding with his. . . his soul in perfect harmony with them.

"Stop. . ." He could see Sith's attempt to break the Gados' minds. A sentient's mind naturally resisted such manipulations, reacting with hostility to such psychic intrusions. And truth and courage would always dispel lies and fear. Tytos emanated such courage, dispelling the miasma from the host, erecting mental barriers to fortify those fighting for their home. Nightmares of families being slaughtered were turned into the memory of family that drove the Gados to fight harder.

The Mandalorian host protected, the glow in Tytos's eyes faded as his spell took hold, but his communion with the Manda remained, his talisman glowing white on his chest. He looked at the Smith once more and smiled. "The Manda favors us today, Karn. Be glad." Then, calling upon the power of his talisman and the Manda, he began to work the spells of a tempest. Incantations in Mando'a were muttered as memories of the coldest blizzards of Kestri began to flow through his soul.

A noticeably cold wind began to blow across the entire city. Winter had forged the Mandalorians of Kestri, the home of the Iron Covenant. Today it would be their ally.

"This blizzard will grow," Tytos murmured, his spell unfolding. "We must make haste towards the center of the Sith's ritual." The shaman began briskly walking towards the center of the Sith forces, ready for whatever the Sith would throw the Mandalorian's way to stop the two.

 

[Meliant]

MERCY'S TYRANT SQUADRON
IN ORBIT // THE BRIDGE // ABREGADO-RAE​

Attn: Cruelty Ceria Kesyk He-Who-Walks-Between

"Cruelty. Emperor," there was almost a tremor in her voice. "If you could." She asked, before looking back to her displays.

There were now Mandalorians on the bridge. Dead Mandalorians and living Mandalorians, yes, but there was hardly any point in distinguishing when one would soon join the other.​

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Hasuras Na-Amoun slid his gaudy blade from its gaudy scabbard and went forward to the edge of the narrow platform that divided the command pit in two. He was effectively alone against the horde.​

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But, being alone in most things already, Meliant thought little of it.​

"I have never employed Dun Möch before!"

Meliant screamed, "We can fucking tell!" and from there battle was joined.​

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He slew the first of the supercommandos with single stroke: it passed through the beskar'gam as if it were foil, decraniating its occupant cleanly from the nose up. Then came some friend of his, who had as fine a blade of pure beskar as could be made - which had rendered fine service to his father, and his father's father, and that man's father, and so-on for some time. This was shattered into many thousands of pieces when he attempted to parry some blow from Meliant, and he was subsequently ran through so thoroughly that the Emperor had to kick him off the end of his sword.​

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There are certain ways of cutting against which no mundane element can stand firm. It is a Dark Side technique, known only to the most depraved of Sith Lords and requiring a proper metal blade. Mastery of those strikes required not merely the rejection of humanity and all physical comfort, but an inability to experience (or even comprehend) such things. The creatures who scraped to such depths were, in better times, hunted down and eradicated even by other Sith. In distant places alien to this galaxy, their bones were entombed in great mausoleum-citadels. Generations of knights were assigned to keep them sealed away and their practices forgotten.​

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But these were not better times, for now a Sith Lord had come once again to these vile techniques - not by meticulous study, but by way of idiot first principle. He fought now with profound fury on this very bridge.​

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Meliant shrieked out something in the language of the Ancient Sith, which the Mandalorians would take to be a meaningless war cry but Cruelty would recognize as a profound insult to their parentage and a promise to sell their spouses to the Kainate as concubines. In this way he incited the boarders against him and a great slaughter followed.​

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Of the spirits, where the Blade of the Heron King hacked them, it severed the bonds of the Force-energy particles that kept them in-place, and so even the brave ancestors were reduced to wisps of off-color vapor or pools of bubbling ectoplasm. Not much more need be said for the supercommandos, whose greatest defense was now of little consequence. The Emperor delighted in their physicality, electing to fling some and crush others as if they were no more than ragdolls.​

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Not all of the crew could be saved.​

The bridge became a bloody mess.​

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But they were still far more numerous than the Golden Emperor, and so he became ruined by gradual means. His armor was rent and gouged and blown apart, and his helmet was battered so severely as to leave his visaged warped, deformed, and frowning. His fine baldric and cloak were reduced to tattered rags, clinging to his person only by virtue of the blood they incidentally absorbed.​

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It had to now be observed by He-Who-Walks-Between that his escort was quickly thinning.​

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By the start of Meliant's next post he would, like the Emperor, be alone.​