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

[Veyla Tass]

Location: Spaceport, Abregado-Rae
Objective: Mandalorian Beatdown, Compromise Spaceport
Allies: Xan Atropus
Engaging: Fenn Stag ​

Well, chit.

Veyla yelped and jumped backwards, willing a band of her metal mantle out in front of her body. Sparks flew as beskar clashed with durasteel, and the parry kept her from being bisected, but -

Ka-Crack.

Something in the acolyte's chest splintered when the Mandalorian collided with her. In the single split second before the crash, she'd managed to put up a telekinetic cushion between the two of them, but there was only so much you could do when something that heavy was moving that fast in your direction. "Only so much" would have to be enough. She could still move, so she could still fight.

Something new cracked when the pair impacted a wall, and Veyla fell to the ground. From there, she acted quickly, despite all the new, fascinating aches and fractures. She snatched a blade from her scrap-cloak, and scrambled away from the Mandalorian with preternatural speed - and on the way out, sliced wildly at his legs. Maybe she'd get lucky, but escape was more important than doing damage - the feral thing in her head told her run-scurry-hide, and it took all her grit to stand her ground once she was on her feet again.

 

[Srina Talon]

OBJECTIVE: 2 [Spaceport]
LOCATION: [Abregado-rae: ...Fuck in the air again?]
SITH ALLIES: Mercy - Grace - Xan Atropus - Veyla Tass - Kaelyr - Leontis Antalis - Astra Sadow
SITH ENEMIES: Carduul Akahl - The Arkanian

It almost seemed like there was a joke to be had somewhere, with a Mandalorian whisking her off to nightmare-filled clouds. He wanted elevation? Fine. She let him have it. Srina allowed the tether to carry her through arcing swings while the spaceport shrunk beneath them. Wind tore at silvery hair that was falling loose from braided bindings while she spun, until the world blurred, and all she could make out was smoke and nauseating green sky.

Her teeth ground together while she wrapped up more of the cord and kept climbing, higher and higher, until he dropped his gun and went for something else. Sudden heat from a flamethrower washed down across her path, and she twisted through it, head ducking down, as the scent of something burning immediately met the air.

Srina turned an armored shoulder into the worst of it, and intense heat rolled across her, enough that when she gasped—The air burned. She did have a helmet, but it would have been too slow to call it forward. Flame hungrily licked at any unprotected skin, and it was only bearable because of the beast she carried. Because of the blood that had been force fed borrowed from Mercy before the engagement. The effects were not infinite.

Each time she was seriously wounded, it helped less and less. The blistering skin of her cheeks slowly smoothed from dry cracks while her form kept moving. She didn't care.

Pain was nothing when the Mandalorian gave her exactly what she wanted.

The natural arc of the whipcord eventually carried her upward, and the Echani bent at the waist, impossibly compact before one hand released the line. Her torso turned while one hand grabbed for a hold in his armor, while the other came across with enough force to carry the short blade of light toward the assembly attached to his back. She remembered how easily they exploded from Humbarine and her blade swept toward the machinery—

But the Arkanian opened his hand. It was innocent enough…But silvery dust flickered between them. It glimmered in the air, shining with light, but Artemis' short super-heated blade suddenly died. It didn't dim or flicker, but snapped off as if she had turned it off.

Cortosis dust…It shouldn't have surprised her. It was nothing. She had fought and killed men twice his size with her bare hands, but it came at precisely the wrong moment.

Because something else returned as the light winked out....

The delirium was so bad that as she immersed herself in the telepathic network that the grenade exploded and force-froze her into the hardening glop… and she didn’t even notice it. Instead she kept bursting the network with images. Forcing everyone from Lily Rhodes to Arris Windrun and beyond to see what these Mandalorians were wreaking.

Everything. The Force crashed into her so violently that for one disorienting instant the Echani thought that the Mandalorian had grown a third arm and struck her in the chest. Her breath caught, the emptiness was gone. She had been so focused on the beskar-clad warrior that she hadn't noticed what apparently, he hadn't either.

He had carried her well beyond the nullification field.

Mercy found her. Her battle-sister found her…Not with might or words. Just…Horror.

It took less than a span of a heartbeat, but images broke across her mind through the strange network that Lily Rhodes had woven, too fast to understand one before the next replaced it. The sky wasn't just burning from the entrance of the Tyranny. There were ships within it that shouldn't exist—Dead things pouring from the Netherworld with their wounds still open. Pieces of ghostly broken hulls trailing behind them while they moved toward the Covenant Dreadnought.

Her people…

They were dying.

One presence after another disappeared so quickly that the Blackwall Empress felt a hollow burst through the pain that echoed from her battle-sister. The giantess was caught in something below and couldn't move. Srina, felt the dead. Her hand tightened on The Arkanian and her fist snapped toward an unshielded pressure point near his neck. There was enough force to betray her…There was nothing held back, nothing restrained.

Her children were dying.

The association in her mind was instantaneous and cruel, and something in her features changed. Her hand that found purchase on his armor also had the fibercord still wrapped around her wrist. Anchoring her there. Srina didn't scream or cry out while the wind rushed around them…She just never took her eyes off him.

This Mandalorian had not personally summoned the dead. He hadn't personally trapped Mercy —and he hadn't killed her younglings with his own hand.

Her fist drew back again…This time she drove it toward his breastplate, viciously targeting the same place the Vora had already struck. Her arm protested from the earlier damage, but the pain was buried beneath the weight of an entire battlefield crashing down. Suffocating her.

She breathed…No. This man wasn't personally responsible for every body Srina could suddenly feel cooling beneath the ruined skyline. The distinction should have mattered…

It didn't.

The Mandalorian wore the armor. He fought beside these heathen creatures. He had put himself between her and her battle-sister. Right now? That was enough. All of her hatred rolled forward and funneled into a specific point while yellow-gold eyes darkened. The Force curling back into her awareness made it so that she did not need to hold on to the Arkanian to keep from falling to her death. She did not need, Artemis or Diana.

"What have you done…"

The single sentence was delivered with surprising calm before she kicked away from him, still bound by that tether. Only now…She could move on her own. The same fist that had tried to make him see stars flexed before closing slowly. Invisible pressure followed the gesture. While there had been no anger in her voice, no hatred, all of it waited for him in her hands. Srina went cold when she tried to compress the metal of his jetpack, knowing that without it, gravity would do what gravity does.

Below them…Mercy was trapped in a way Srina had never experienced. Above them, her children were being slaughtered.

Srina could feel all of it.​

The fibercord went slack between them as she hovered in the sickly sky with white hair partially hiding a face that had gone deathly still. She couldn't decide where to go. Above or below. Her eyes found the Mandalorian again. Empty, inhuman…but the decision was made.

She would start with what was right in front of her.

Spoiler: Equpiment

Armour Saber Ring Ring Terentatek Body Gloves HG-54 "The Vora" Class Hand Cannon Holding Aces Popper Echo Implant NPC Units (On Standby) Drake "Vaelcryx" (On Standby)

Spoiler: TLDR

Tried to destroy jetpack, failed, the Force is back because they flew away...Big mad because Sithlings dying. Now wants to take it out on poor The Arkanian

 

[Astra Sadow]

​

Astra excused herself from standing before Leontis Antalis but would not deter him following or inquiring after. While the scientists and researchers ogled samples retrieved from elsewhere on the planet -- especially the Dropship Site, which was Ground Zero where Patient Zero dwelt -- their leader had some exploration of her own to conduct. "Szehil, I'll need fresh blood of the purest sort you can muster," had been her call as she turned and surveyed the area. The spaceport didn't feel claustrophobic, but with both medical and military personnel trapsing about the ground was out of the question. A wall, then.

Moments later a small pot of blood was hurriedly, but carefully, conveyed to Astra. She looked down at the offering for a moment and then nodded. "Good." It was not the first time her attendents had been asked as much. Outsiders she kept at arms' length, but those closest... they were introduced to dazzling concepts and terrors through sheer necessity at times. A price to pay for being in Astra's service. Her rewards were generous enough to keep those of strong minds near for the long haul, however.

She lifted the helmet from her head and exchanged it with the pot. "Status on the research." Astra didn't wait for an answer as she turned her burned, golden eyes back to the wall before her. Two gloved fingers dipped into the blood and then began to smear it on the duracrete surface.

"Fungal samples acquired. Subjects acquired. Controlled introduction and study of the fungal development are in the advanced stages. Data analysis has begun and some initial concepts of a treatment have been formulated." ( Madrona A’Mia )

"Very good. Thank you, Szehil." Her tone was not full of motherly warmth Astra might feign before an audience of customers, but such acknowledgement was glowing praise in her circle. Matters had proceeded accordingly and sounded well in hand. No need for her to demand particulars if they were as far along as claimed. At the moment, she had something else that needed doing.

The first thing Astra drew in blood was a six-foot diameter circle on the wall. Then she started adding rings within rings of symbols. ( He-Who-Walks-Between , Darth Strosius , Darth Carnifex )

Ma'am, reports coming in... The Mandalorians have vessels taking off from another location. Images of people-- ( Feydrik Munin , Romul Saxon )

A quiet snort followed as details were reported over the channcel that mattered neither here nor there, but were proper to relay in these circumstances. So, they'd thought to use a different 'starport' to evacuate or muster more aerial forces. It was a large planet, but they would not evacuate so many so quickly without a massive complex like the main starport. More importantly, Astra wondered whether any spores might be introduced to such a hastily assembled rescue effort. If they were far enough away, perhaps not, but then the people also might question why they had to leave at all if they did not have flesh reveaers stalking them, or Sith warriors prowling the earth. Or her Children snacking on them.

As the work continued, however, Astra had half a mind to rip the circlet off to silence the images Mercy bombarded them all with. Not because of any travesty or horror or weeping-well-do, but like a radio turned up to full volume with someone endlessly talking over it the noise was naught but a distraction. Albeit, it was good to know just how thoroughly the Mandalorians had begun to rise against them at last. Mercy and countless others would be besides themselves in suddenly being pressured just to survive. And the reason she didn't take the protective and cursed charm off? Not because of the spores. Because as much as it was an overload of images Mercy favored -- and unnecessary propaganda or mental conditioning for Astra -- it was information. More than she'd get from a report passed on through a chain.

"General," Astra called out or sent by comm link to Leontis Antalis , "the Empress Mercy is having a grand time dying nearby. Mandalorians seem to have redoubled their efforts across the planet and in orbit. I hope the wealthy and influential people trapped in this spaceport have been identified and rounded up. Should anyone live through this whatever insidious plot the Empress has in store for them will still need done. You wouldn't want to be the one to disappoint her after she managed to live through this." Some Sith wanted to watch the world burn. Others were waiting on the world to be the one that burned them. Mercy seemed the type that flirted with both as the opportunities arose.

Arris Windrun 's broken call over the commlink to rally caused Astra's eyes to narrow for a second. Then the Mandalorians...

Blood dripped as Astra pulled her hand away from the incomplete Array and had gone still but for a moment. The small pot of blood drifted out of her hand and sat at the base of the wall, and Astra's red jacket flourished with a snap as she strode away. "Jareel, activate the shield generator. Full intensity. Raselli, prioritize the approach for armed defense. General," she turned her head to look back or for the man, "prepare for uninvited guests." The importance of the Array was beyond question in its necessity to end the breech that threatened to swallow the sky, but that also meant preventing the enemy from flattening the entire area before its completion.

Once crunch on a broken world at a time, the black and red figure moved through the thicking air with spore and dust alike conjured from countless battles. The fires burned. The bombs pulverized. Even the dead polluted this world now. And before it all came those responsible. Not solely responsible, but they would be deluded indeed to think themselves above what they had done. Above what had been necessary. Mandalorians.

On the horizon Astra could see them as she continued to stride away from the starport's central hub and out to greet their guests. They did not come with an army of war droids, beasts, and ancestors, however. It was a strike force with artillary and tanks. Was it to take back the starport, or to steal her research? Why let your enemy have the cure for their own affliction when you could take it and deny them that affliction? Perhaps they'd followed the field teams back here. They certainly hadn't shown any interest in the starport up to that point.

Motivations, however, mattered not. They had come. They were here.

A length shot into her right hand held off to the side. A loud, hungry growl ignites into a long, flat and red blade. If they had any thought to steal from her then Astra would make certain they understood the terms of that contract. In full.

Glareshades | Clothing | Jacket | Vest | Tie | Gauntlets | Belt | Boots | Broadsaber
Holdout Blaster | CommLink | Dagger | A'Mia Circlet | Alchemical Ingredients​

 

[Helix]

Captaining the Supercrawler
Tag: Iris Beroya (Directly) Darth Carnifex (Indirectly)

​

The supercrawler's shields didn't flinch under the sporadic incoming fire it received. It would take a lot more than small-arms (or most large arms) to do the job, and the enemy didn't seem heavy on the sort of power it would take to even scratch the gigantic machine.

The command deck inclined slightly as the crawler rolled over an armored transport of some sort, flattening it into the earth. Buildings, tanks, unlucky soldiers, all fell before its mighty guns or were ground to pulp under its treads.

"We're within range of priority targets." Announced a flickering holographic crewman in the characteristic whine common to such droids.

"Excellent. Target the two nearest factory sites with both fore batteries. Maximum rad-saturation. Boil these pretenders in their own muck."

To the crawler's port and starboard, two enormous triple-barreled guns swivelled slowly into position.

"Confirm coordinates." Chirped the artillery officer.

"Confirmed. Salt the earth."

The entire machine shook.

Even through layers of armor and energy shielding, the crawler's primary guns were uncomfortably loud. Helix didn't want to imagine what the point of impact must sound like.

The boys downrange didn't have to imagine, as boom after boom disturbed the air near the crawler. Each launch projected a massive, visible orb of ebon fire along with a nearly fifteen-meter muzzle flash.

The sky was soon deformed under an endless rain of radiotoxic plasma munitions. Where each landed, little could remain alive. Some detonated in the front lines, vaporizing those closest and melting the skin and armor off those unfortunate enough to be further away.

The shockwaves of impact sent armored vehicles tumbling away like toys, or turned fortified positions into molten ooze. More disturbingly, the fungal carpets that covered the field were galvanized by the incredible temperatures around the impact sites, renewing their assault on the planet with redoubled vigor. Revolting spore-patches crept further and further across the landscape.

Still other blobs of inverted star-stuff exploded amidst the factory buildings themselves, flash-moltenizing metal and duracrete. New radioactive no-go zones were birthed every second, along with free-running rivers of melted stone and steel.

For better or worse, the supercrawler's long-range batteries were imprecise instruments, better suited to suppression bombardments and inflicting long-term poisoning on the landscape. Nonetheless, where they did land, the destruction was catastrophic.

The pilots of the wing turned their noses in the direction of the factories, as did Iris, and accelerated through atmosphere toward the new target.

"Sir, instruments detect a fighter wing on approach." Announced one of the bridge droids. "Enemy air assets remain operational."

A clumsy beginner's blunder. The Sith had allowed the enemy to control the skies prior to his arrival. That oversight ended now, but he would definitely be mentioning it in his after-action report.

"Uncover all topside anti-air batteries. Swat them out of the sky."

Enormous rotary-barreled cannons swiveled to meet this new threat, and smaller Tarnicite-based flak assets emerged from armored hatches in the crawler's hull.

In a few moments, the skybox between the crawler and its attackers would light up. Streams of armor-melting Otherplasma bolts belched in their thousands into the sky, alongside torrents of corruptive Tarnicite munitions.

Though the assault had suffered significant damage in some places, the supercrawler remained a stubborn strongpoint, advancing sluggishly but unstoppably forward.
New information flowed in all the time, reducing the nightmare chaos of the battlefield into sterile ones and zeros. The crawler's starship-grade sensory instruments detected that their advance was beginning to falter in several areas.

Panicked calls for aid streamed endlessly through Helix's comms, and to his credit, he attempt to answer some. Still, all could not be responded to even with an entire fleet of supercrawlers. Now it was a matter of triage.

"We have a platoon falling backward from the front. They're requesting entry into the crawler to accomodate wounded."

Helix focused in on the call in question. It was distorted and barely understandable, filtered as it was through a din of battlefield noise.

True to form, the animal fear in the trooper's voice was unmistakable. Under normal circumstances, he'd simply ignore them or shoot them for desertion if he was feeling petty. These were hardly normal circumstances, and he couldn't risk doing anything to irk the Empress. They weren't his pawns to knock off the board.

"Lower the rear hatch and let them in." He ordered. "Cover them with the flak. Don't need those fighters mowing them down."

Before long, they came stumbling in by ones and twos, seeking refuge within the crawler's impregnable walls. Maybe a waste of time, but Mercy could always have them disposed of later if she wished.

Thankfully, it seemed not all the soldiers at their disposal flinched so easily in the face of a violent death. The Kainate's Graugs were actually pushing forward despite everything.

"Alter course twelve degrees north-northeast. Put us on an intercept track with Carnifex's contingent. We will support their push however we can, or risk losing our forward momentum. Make sure those enemy air assets don't get near them."

Slowly, the crawler raised its hatch and moved as directed, rumbling forward to join the push.

 

[Fenn Stag]

FENN STAG

Spaceport
Veyla Tass

​

He was Ori'Ramikade.

He was prepared for a wild strike. The first wild slash went at his legs, and just pulling up his leg slightly made it scrape across his armor. He grit his teeth and pressed onward, not running, walking towards his opponent. He found it at least somewhat amusing that a Sith that was once the feared foe of the galaxy, ran away in a seeming panic.

"I want your skull."

He said, venom in the last word. His hand, free of the blade, came crashing down on her armored form right at her centerpiece. His left arm- cybernetic, enhanced, brutal and efficient, and adorned with a crushgaunt. He was going to peel off her makeshift armor piece by piece if need be. Rip her apart, limb by limb.

She could feel that hate in him. That rage. He did not say what he said as intimidation. He bore no lies, no deceit, no subterfuge. The flaming inferno of rage walking towards her was honest in his goal.

He wanted her skull off her body, her heart from her chest. He wanted to kill her.

​

 

[Iris Beroya]

AMIDST THE BLUE SKIES, A LINK FROM THE PAST TO THE FUTURE.

THE SHELTERING WINGS OF THE PROTECTOR

Engaging: Helix
Allies: Yuri Maji
Starship: Jai'galaar Starfighter

STARFANG WING:
Strill Squadron | Fang Squadron | Claw Squadron | Talon Squadron

RESERVES:
Ghest Squadron | Svaper Squadron | Darkwolf Squadron

///...loading
...
..
.
[[ ABREGADO RAE: ATMOSPHERE ]]
[[ MISSION RESUME ]]

​

The bomb went off prematurely, shattering in a burst of pressured CryoBan gas that sucked away heat in a sudden, silent gasp to flash-chill the surrounding air. However, the freezing effect dissipated long before it could reach the fruiting body. Her helmet’s infrared sensors picked out the chilled air, which soon dispersed on the currents.

AWACS Watcher
«No joy on your target, Strill 6. Completely intercepted.»​

Blast, Iris thought, wondering what had happened. Probably intercepted by a point-defense weapons system.

Little did she know...

After only a split-second break in her fire to re-acquire her target ( Iris Beroya Iris Beroya ), the railgun SMG snapped towards the starfighter as it sped past, while it was angling in an ascent. She fired again, a trio of four round snap-bursts sending high explosive, hypervelocity slugs lancing towards the starfighter’s port side and aft from just over 200 meters away while it sought to climb away. Coated in energy-reflective ultrachrome, each projectile was capable of passing through shields by repelling away their projected energy. Should they connect, their explosive cores would go off in baradium-catalyzed fusion reactions, briefly unleashing stellar-surface temperatures that had the potential to obliterate anything caught within a half-meter radius in the manner of a tiny thermal detonator.

Something whizzed past Iris' canopy, a near miss. Her astromech let out a terrified screech as two more lines of objects sizzled past.

"Holy kark!" Iris pulled evasive maneuevers until they escaped that airspace. "That was too close."

But she had to focus as she rejoined the other squadrons. Below them in the distance she could see it, a megalithic sized crawler. Fires burned around the factories.

Fang 3
«Look at the size of that thing.»

Talon 5
«No way.»

Talon 2
«How did they get it here?»​

More disturbingly, the fungal carpets that covered the field were galvanized by the incredible temperatures around the impact sites, renewing their assault on the planet with redoubled vigor. Revolting spore-patches crept further and further across the landscape.

AWACS Watcher
«Reading enormous energy signatures on the Supercrawler. Talon and Strill squadrons, engage it. Fang and Claw squadrons, saturate the impact sites from its barrage. The flames appear to be encouraging the growth of the plague. Put them out with your cryoban bombs.»

Claw Lead
«Roger. Tally on the blast zones.»
​

Enormous rotary-barreled cannons swiveled to meet this new threat, and smaller Tarnicite-based flak assets emerged from armored hatches in the crawler's hull.

When they drew closer, Iris' eyes widened as the skies lit up with criss-crossing lines of unnatural plasma bolts and flak. The air became choked with it.

"Hang on, Ar-Nine."

Strill One
«Do not aim for a killshot. Take out the Anti-Air emplacements on it, then we will pull it apart piece by piece.»
​

Iris went into a steep dive, barreling toward the crawler. Flak and plasma bolts exploded all around her. It felt like they were right on top of her. Her breath was stifled inside the helmet and she had to clench her gut hard as it wanted to crawl up into her mouth. Her hands felt sweaty on the controls.

Talon 2
«This flak is too thick!»

Talon 5
«Oritsir!»

Talon 2
«Shab. I'm hit, can't control it. Going down!»​

Gritting her teeth, Iris tried to shut out the noise and focus. Ar-Nine fed her computer the targeting solution. Her shields flashed violently as a defense emplacement targeted her specifically. Then Iris pulled the trigger.

"Missile away."

A contrail stretched out from behind the anti-tank missile as it shot toward one of the Tarricite Autocannons. The KXM-114 could pierce through shielding thanks to its shield disruption package, but that was where its conventionalism stopped. The bioplasmatic gel payload, capable of burning through capital ship hulls in space, might or might not be able to burn through the actual hull of the crawler. But that wasn't what it targeted. In a perfect world, the jelly would cover the whole emplacement and either burn through it or fry its critical system to render it inoperable.

Iris poured on fire from her Jai'galaar's six laser cannons for good measure before skimming along the ground, using a factory's super structure for cover from line of sight anti-aircraft fire before she pulled nose up into the sky again.

AWACS Watcher
«Strill and Talon, the main body of the Supercrawler looks-»​

Impregnable:

AWACS Watcher
«-continue to deteriorate its combat capabilities by targeting the exposed weapons emplacements. It only has eight anti-air emplacements by my count. Eliminate those to free up additional bombing runs.»
​

Nearby, Iris caught flashes of explosions and the white of blooming frost.

Claw Lead
«Bombs away on the blast sites. Icing 'em out.»

​

 

[Vara Maji]

THE FOUNDLING
Abregado-rae | Planetside, Spaceport
Equipment: In Bio
Allies: COV | Fenn Stag
Enemies: TSC | Xan Atropus | Veyla Tass
Engaging: Xan Atropus

The Blood We Spill​

The explosion hurled the Sith skyward. A column of dust swallowed him whole as heated chunks of durasteel fragmented and spalled in every direction. A shout tore from his core as the ground rushed up and caught him. The terminal shook as rubble came crashing down in his wake, burying him.

Fenn wasted not a moment, closing in for the kill.

"Get. Up."

And the Foundling wasted no time to move. Her attention shifted to the other threat in the room. Veyla Tass . But the Foundling was a second too late. Force swirled inside the terminal. Objects rose from the ground and from the walls, some released from unmoving bodies of her fellow kin. Rivets. Durasteel plating. Weapons. Blasters. They converged upon her, assembling into a protective barrier around her.

Then, the Sith struck.

Her intent was clear. The Harpy’s comrade: Fenn Stag .

But before Vara could move to defend her kin, the Sith Lord rose from among the rubble. The figure clad in dark crimson robes tapped into the Force - the debris behind The Supercommando shifted, levitating skyward and compounding into a larger projectile. A moment away from being hurled at the Stag.

She would not allow it.

The aspiring Wardog moved. In but a breath, she’d brought her weapons to bear. Yet the Shistavanen’s answer found him not with particle bolts. A downward bend of her left wrist. The vambrace-mounted repulsor whined. A deep boom thundered through the terminal, a brutal shockwave surging outward, seeking to tear Xan Atropus from his footing, and wrench his attention toward her.

And she had only just begun, her reprisal yet to end. The soles of her boots scraped across the durasteel floor in a sharp pivot. Her silhouette angled, ready to meet The Acolyte. Target runes locked onto her. The world narrowed and for a second, she was nothing but a blur as she launched herself toward the Supercommando in a burst of unnatural speed.

Instinct took over.

No time to aim. A flick of the wrist. The arc caster mounted onto her vambrace crackled to life, spitting an azure bolt across the terminal. The bolt crashed against the improvised barrier, electricity crawling across its metallic surface, seeking to seep through to The Acolyte through every crack.

The woman sought safety beneath her metal cocoon.

She would find none if the Harpy could help it.


​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

​

The Core
Abregado-rae

Direct Tags: Darth Strosius , Lily Rhodes , Revna Marr
The Hordemother's Boon: Darth Strosius, Revna Marr, Lily Rhodes,
Anet Raine , Casimir Thorne , Srina Talon , Mercy , Vess Sadragen
Leontis Antalis , Varin Mortifer , Naamino Zuukamano ,
SL-0182 , Astra Sadow
The Hordemother's Protection Wanes: Calyx Sundrift & Efret Farr
Foes: Romul Saxon , Tytos Saxon & other Mandolarians near drop sites

For a time, all was well. Revna harried her quarry, Alisteri showed admirable restraint in choosing to trust his daughter's capabilities, and mycelial plague washed over the land. Where A'Mia swayed at the epicenter of it all, her four meter tall form resplendent now with numerous spindly limbs, overseeing the ritual as a Druid observes their grove. Those many limbs moved in complicated staccato to a rhythm only the Hordemother could hear.

Her awareness was stretched out across the land, creeping over the map at alarming speed — like a slime mold traverses the most efficient route, her mind traveled along the lines of awareness provided by so many thousands of flesh reavers.

For a time, she was the peaceful eye of a wrathful storm.

Then many things occurred all at once and that war torn sky which just moments ago had been solely her domain, rained death of a new kind.

A'Mia's awareness of them rippled to her through the Weave — points of angry light glimmering upon a schematic which previously felt entirely under her control. Meanwhile, bombs and missiles tore through swaths of her reavers. Those violent disruptions kicked up more spores and scattered biomass further but A'Mia felt as every pinpoint of awareness winked out.

Then they descended, like avenging angels through the gates of hell. Dropships and basilisk droids, Mandalorians and Gados, and at the forefront of them all.

Unrecognizable as the ordinarily calm Professor Madrona, that massive blood-red tree at the heart of the plague was suddenly rocked by psychic wounds which redoubled as Mercy cycled her own awareness through the net. A'Mia had the wherewithal to shield Lily Rhodes from the brunt of the onslaught but her mindscape, the entirety of the web which connected most of their forces, suddenly reverberated with the existential agony of death begetting death begetting ravenous life which burst forth only to die again.

Mercy scowled when she realized she could sense what was happening in space too. A clear sign that Cruelty had gone beyond his mission parameters and decided to meddle, it displeased her, but the flash images were useful as she fed them back to Srina Talon in between the anti-force field appearing and disappearing.

“Ah, so that was your ploy…” Mercy responded as they continued to deflect and move, but she smiled under the mask. Her body felt the wear, the way another bone cracked when Carduul hit her well.

The Sith were dying. She felt them dying. Each death was a marker. A debt being fulfilled to her first and foremost.

A series of blinding fractals wracked A'Mia's mind's eye as her senses overlapped with with each and every being on the planet's surface touched by death. As Mandalorian enemies approached the heart of her ritual they were greeted by a scream, the neti bent double writhing against madness inducing connectivity. Those provided her boon were passed over by the keening Force scream but all else was battered by the prolonged, agonized noise.

Those gathering mounds and hills of viscera from the spread of the plague were disrupted and splattered further across the increasingly crowded ritual grounds. For miles surrounding the drop sites, oozing red-brown fungal forests had sprung up and the fleshy, fungal structures in close vicinity to the maddened neti suddenly exploded with the force of her outburst.

As her enemies neared, A'Mia rocked and swayed — rooted in place and wrestling with the insanity of being so entangled with so many lifeforms, so much death. In the profundity of her madness, Cruelty's nudge to those in her vicinity was amplified.

Not all of them would meet his roar. Worse still, even as the majority charged to Romul's iron-will, a large section held hatred in their heart and a fraction of them... immediately snapped under the pressure of a Sith Lord's mind bending them to his will.

They began an immediate assault, shooting at everything that moved, including... the Mandalorians that charged with them. Turning what was supposed to be glorious run, into a chaotic... muddy... and dark onslaught where foe met foe even as ally turned against ally. In the grand scheme of things, the Sith would still be facing overwhelming odds.

But it wouldn't be as beautiful as the Mandalorians had hoped. It would be tragic and cruel instead.

Acting on instinct, snapping and struggling like an injured tuk'ata, her mind lashed out to spur those touched with dread, urging them to spread their malady. Fear was catching after all and the air was thick with it. Even as A'Mia's keening shriek died back, a new terrible noise rose up from her creaking, swaying form: laughter.

It was unlike any sound a natural creature should be able to make. The voices of so many woven together to form bright, hideous laughter the likes of which could make skin crawl and weaker minds buckle under the wrongness of it.

 

[Ceria Kesyk]

MERCY'S TYRANT SQUADRON
IN ORBIT // ABREGADO-RAE
Cruelty | Meliant | Romul Saxon | Kjartan Hammer-Hand | Yuri Maji | He-Who-Walks-Between​

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

Lead ship: Tyranny

Main body:

• Tenacious-class Heavy Star Destroyers​
• Grand Victory-class Star Destroyers​
• Silencer-class Siege Destroyers​
• Ardent-class Fast Frigates​
• Tu'kata-class Sith Raiders​
• Thrantin-class Corvettes​
• Various smaller support ships​

The whole crew was a mixture of horrified, confused, or desperately locking back into their stations while Kesyk just stared - smiled at the viewscreens.

Meliant’s hello was an unwelcome change of pace. The Vice Admiral balled her hand into a fist and looked back over her shoulder with dull eyes beneath a bitter brow.

Just because he was the Emperor of Coruscant didn’t mean she had to respect him barging onto the bridge.

Then, Cruelty spoke, reminding her that there was still a battle to be won. Her psychosis numbed at the dawning reality of the bridge. Officers and crew all passed her glances. They were terrified; not of the battle, not of the Mandalorians, but of her.

‘What are your orders?’

She took a deep breath, straightened the cuffs of her sleeves, and adjusted her collar still splattered with the captain’s blood… or was it hers?

“Status report.”

“God’s Eye is fully operational!”

Ceria walked back to the command station. Her steps were cool. A model of being calm under command. If anything, the crew was intimidated by the juxtaposition. Perhaps a touch grateful at Cruelty for getting her under control.

The Tyranny’s displays lit up with new information. Every ship in the system, on the planet, or on its way was marked by the technological marvel that was the Tyranny’s complex sensor suite. Even cloaked ships would have little odds of escaping the Tyranny’s notice. Of course, it was one thing to see, and another to do something about it.

“Ma’am!

The Akior led them, using its advanced sensor countermeasures and stealth systems to obscure the movement of the evacuation fleet, making for the far side of the planet before daring to rise above the atmosphere.

“I see it.”

She smiled.

“How long until Tyranny is in position?”

“Almost there, ma’am.”

Her attention was drawn to another problem. A rift was tearing open on the bridge, and on the other side were ghostly Mandalorian warriors led by their living kin.

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

There was certainly anxiety on the bridge, but having watched your commanding officer murder the XO with her bare hands inspired a different kind of loyalty. They were more afraid of her than even the portal from hell opening behind them.

She spoke to the crew and the officers, even as spectral warriors invaded the bridge.

“We are outnumbered. We are outgunned. I cannot promise you victory. But we will make them pay.”

The ensigns quickly went back to work. Heads down at their stations as they listened.

“We will push the Kestran fleet to the brink. We will crush their spirits.”

She opened her comms to the rest of the ship.

“This is Kesyk. Scramble all fighters. All gunners to their stations. We do not rest until the last Mandalorian gun falls silent!”

Spoiler: Action Summary

• Kesyk begins to get her bridge under control.
• The God's Eye is operational and spots the ships preparing to evacuate under the cover of Romul's fleet.
• The Tyranny is settling into low-orbit position.
• Reacting to the spectral stuff happening on the bridge.
• Scrambling pilots and gunners to set up for my next post.

 

[Cruelty]

MERCY'S TYRANT SQUADRON
IN ORBIT // ABREGADO-RAE

Kjartan Hammer-Hand | Yuri Maji | He-Who-Walks-Between | Romul Saxon | Tytos Saxon

Ceria Kesyk | Meliant

For a while there Cruelty was distracted, inspecting the rift of the Netherworld. It had been ripped open by the Tyranny through long-tested ritual, perfected with blood, sacrifice and the loss of sanity. Whatever this interesting creature had done had turned the relatively clean rift into a bleeding wound.

Fascinating.

And he was getting flashes of… bookish intent? Cruelty frowned there, because that sensation was familiar. Not to him, not quite, but to what he belonged to. It was this distraction that allowed He-Who-Walks-Between to complete his master plan.

Gathering up his mind, he raised a hand and a smaller netherportal shimmered to life before the force assembled in the hangar.

True eyes belatedly caught the intrusion boring through the lattice he had woven around the Tyranny. It had been made specifically to shield it from Netheric resonance. To protect minds. Something akin to a dream catcher.

The casual arrogance kept surprising Cruelty. Utilizing the Netherworld like a shortcut, as if it was a jaunt through the woods, rather than a perilous trip through a nightmare realm that belonged to the Dark Side.

There was a cost to using the Netherworld. Each time the Tyranny opened it up, their own people were exposed to its effects as much as those that they were attempting to battle. He did not wish to imagine what it did to those that traveled through it so freely.

It didn't matter now.

He strengthened the lattice with renewed focus and suddenly parts of Plane-Walker’s host would find their path to the Tyranny much more difficult than before.

The newcomer himself had slipped his grasp, as had those first through the breach. But not everyone could be so lucky, stubbornly forcing a path through the strengthened lattice carried disastrous consequences.

Alone but for his supercommandos and the ghosts of the Manda, Kade charged through the portal and onto the bridge of the Tyranny.

It had been a dream catcher and that is what it would do. Grasping for the minds of those that persisted, who attempted to break through into the sanctum of the Tyranny.

Their bodies might arrive, but would their minds follow? Or would they be drooling on the floor… their souls lost in a cruel grasp?

“Cruelty. Emperor,” there was almost a tremor in her voice. “If you could.”

Cruelty smiled at the new arrival.

“Hello!” He waved again, just as he had for Meliant. “You were rather reckless out there, I must say. Dangerous use of the Netherworld, but I suppose you don’t win anything without some risk attached to it, yes?”

The Lord of the Sith did not seem to realize that this was supposed to be a battle or if he did, he did not seem to care much.

“If you aren’t too busy, you must tell me how you managed to find that many Mandalorian spirits in the Netherworld of all places… and the spectral ships? Mwuah.” Making a chef kiss gesture there, even as his golden eyes looked amused. “That is just a work of art, my friend.”

Was he mocking their visitor? It was hard to say. Cruelty never did anything normally.

But to Ceria who had had some exposure to him… it seemed wildly out of character.

He suddenly leaned towards the Vice-Admiral.

“Did I mock him correctly? This is exciting, I have never employed Dun Möch before!”

 

[Calyx Sundrift]

Objective III: Destroy the Factories
Tag: Anet Raine | Feydrik Munin
Equipment: Lightsaber, Specter Vibroknife, Desevro Acolyte armor, Amulet of Many, Gravetail vibroblade, Glitter bombs

He stood unmoving in the black smoke that poured from every crevice of the refinery, bloody clots snowing down and clinging to his dark armor. Silhouettes surged through the streets behind them, frantic cries echoing as people scrambled for safety.

Above, a TIE-hunter went up in flames under the turbolaser fire of the Kestran Mandalorians, sending a shudder through the air.

Calyx caught none of it. His ragged dark cloak flapped in the billowing, scorching smoke, but the expressionless helmet remained angled toward the other Sith.

Did you?

Again, he let her carry him through an impossible barrier. They phased through the wall and came to a small, stark room. A meeting space, he gathered.

His breath still came in shallow gasps. He felt trapped in his own mind. Constricted by the helmet.

He threw the thing across the room, the hollow durasteel thudding with each bounce. His eye had a hard time adjusting to the haze without the Theadian Lens of his helmet. The taste of it was foul too, as if he breathed in tar with every inhale.

She kept her eyes on him. "Did I know what?" And before he could press through her cheeky ignorance, Anet reached out and struck him across the face.

The blow nearly staggered him. His gaze shot to her immediately, the overwhelming dread and the chaos of the environment forgotten. Sharpening again into focus like a knife's edge. Pointed at her.

"Did I know that we would devastate this world?" She struck him again. "Yes, Calyx," and again. "I did."

Twice more the blows came, but Calyx didn't flinch. Didn't look away. He could taste the acrid tang of blood welling up in his mouth as her admission landed.

His stomach churned. A headache throbbed behind his eyes, growing in intensity as he tried to wrap his mind around it. But all he arrived at was contempt. A disgust that sickened him.

He'd let someone steer him again. With sweet words, intimacy, and lies more merciless than he ever could weave.

What part of him had been playful turned hard as steel. Cold as ice.

She pushed him to the window, to watch the devastation the Kestrans inflicted on their forces and civilians alike. It was as if the sky had been torn open, and Mandalorian crafts came down in a force ten times their number.

He watched, as the Legionnaires tried to reinforce the positions he and Anet had marked as "vital" over a week ago. They won as many as they lost. Bloody victories that didn't hold long against the vicious war-droids and beskar-clad warriors.

He watched, as disruptor rifles disintegrated the scrambling men and women. As workers struggled their way through the smoke, coughing and gagging. Some limped along, heavy with welts where the spores had taken root, leaving a trail of dark, sticky blood with each step.

”For what? How many worlds would they burn to get to us, Calyx?"

War droids and orbital strikes made short work of the brave soldiers the Sith sent to their dooms.

"One wrong turbolaser shot- kriff, if they're stupid enough to order an orbital bombardment, everybody goes up in flames." It would be like dropping a match in fuel.

He watched, as glowing streaks of orbital cannonfire rained down through the sickly clouds. A blinding flash erupted across the horizon, and the ground trembled violently as a massive pillar of fire devoured machinery and squadrons of supercommandos and legionnaires alike. Only the molten ruin of the refinery remained amid the rain of flaming debris and toxic smoke.

Anet pulled him back just as he averted his gaze from the brilliant flash of light.

And everything surged through him. A deep, burning rage rose in his chest. A crushing sadness tightened his throat. A hollow emptiness. An icy numbness that swallowed everything else, driven by disbelief and despair.

But there was more. That invasive presence of Acier Moonbound in his head. Their connection drawn tight as a string at breaking point. All that shone on the other side of the Dyad was a complementary anger.

He couldn't muster a reaction in that tug-of-war. Not until Anet's touch drew him back.

Not until she insinuated hate.

Yes. Hate.

He hated them all. The Covenant's steering hand. The ruthlessness of the Kestran Mandalorians. Anet's lies. The path the Force tried to lay out for him.

Looking back at him, the half-Pantoran pressed her hand to his chest, flooding him with her twisted glee. A taste of the power, the thrill, the godlike command she felt with the Dark Side of the Force at her command.

"Let that hate drive you."

She pressed against him.

Involuntarily, the Dark side came to him in all its terrible glory. It thundered through his veins as molten fury and a sleet storm of hate, crashing against his feeble will and overthrowing it, funneling everything he felt into raw, untamed power.

"You've no idea." His eye flickered yellow, glimpsing at the hand she'd put on her saber. "No idea at all." It was a whisper.

He turned and stepped in, locking her between the wall and himself. His eye, crowned yellow with hate, bored down onto the woman behind the mask.

"I want to kick those pretty teeth in. Tear out those shining silver locks. Break those gentle hands." He spoke slowly, devoid of any emotion. The raging storm of the Dark side detached him from all of it.

He stepped back. Never blinking. "And perhaps I will. Once this is over."

The Force did not bless him with ecstasy. That intense, overwhelming power that made one foam at the mouth. Instead, his was a quiet nothingness. A sharpness and clarity that made every thought seem rational. Every threat irrelevant. A void. The eye of a raging storm.

A series of blinding fractals wracked A'Mia's mind's eye as her senses overlapped with with each and every being on the planet's surface touched by death. As Mandalorian enemies approached the heart of her ritual they were greeted by a scream, the neti bent double writhing against madness inducing connectivity. Those provided her boon were passed over by the keening Force scream but all else was battered by the prolonged, agonized noise.

Vaguely, he registered something threatening to break the crystallized walls of the Dark-side he now dwelled in. A scream beyond anything that could be called a scream. It prickled his arm, where the Neti bracelet wilted rapidly. He gave it no further thought, though his mouth twitched at the scream's aching intensity.

"We must contact our forces. Make them fall back to our position. Let the Kestrans believe they're safe in their fortified death-traps. Let them celebrate their dominance until the flames take them." He couldn't muster grief nor guilt at the thought of how many they'd lose. He was at the mercy of the Dark-side. And it wouldn't let him wallow in misery.

"Meanwhile, we can flank their forces and take out their leader, like you devised." His gaze, marred by a sickly golden iris, held a quiet intensity. It was more than calculating. He was measuring her.

"Your call."

Liar.

 

[Arris Windrun]

SL-0182 | OPEN
Mention: Lily Rhodes | Quinn Varanin | Vess Sadragen | Mercy | Acier Moonbound
Down & Out
​

Dark. It was dark. Arris looked around. Dead soldiers strewn across the ground. Circuits and snapped wires sparking inside the wreck of the AT-AT.

She looked up at the hole carved through the side. The casing on her left hand crumbled from the sudden explosive power she unleashed to save herself from being crushed.

A voice came through her comlink.

SL-0182 :
‘Where should I regroup, My Lord?’

<:”SL-01… Uh… Zero - can I just call you Zero?”:>

She leapt through the hole and landed outside. <:”Regroup at the heart site. Find A’Mia Madrona. I’ll be there soon.:">

Red flakes fluttered down like snow. Plague spores that were spread and scattered by the recent explosion. Arris looked around, seeing the destruction left in its wake. Buildings crumbled and burned. Death littered the streets - corpses from both sides, civilians, too… mostly civilians.

A damaged basilisk droid struggled to crawl out from beneath the wreckage of a TIE. It looked at Arris, powering up its laser cannons, but all that erupted was a crackle and a spark.

She returned a sad look as she walked by. “Next time.”

The Dark Side swirled, and a piercing pain grew inside her head again. She expected Lily, but that wasn’t it.

The delirium was so bad that as she immersed herself in the telepathic network that the grenade exploded and force-froze her into the hardening glop… and she didn’t even notice it. Instead she kept bursting the network with images. Forcing everyone from Lily Rhodes Lily Rhodes to Arris Windrun Arris Windrun and beyond to see what these Mandalorians were wreaking.

Arris saw visions. Of the carnage. Of the Mandalorian counter-assault. ‘So I wasn’t just thinking it?’ She thought back to what Mercy had said: this world and the next… and the next one… Her friend, her best friend, really had gone off the deep end. But it wasn’t just her. Arris, too, felt something stir. Sick and twisted inside her. When she looked at all that the Mandalorians wrought, she knew that it didn’t matter. What was the point of driving the Sith off Abregado-rae?

"How..." Ace whispered into his palms. "How could Arris Windrun let this happen...?"

I See It​

The words echoed from nowhere.

She looked around, trying to see where they came from. Globs of flesh-like masses had formed atop the piles of corpses, accelerated by A’Mia’s ritual. If only Arris saw what awaited her at the heart site. A mass of it - spread like a forest, with a tree erupting at the center. A thing, a living thing of power that would wash this world in pestilence.

“Help!” The cry broke her stride.

An injured woman. Leg trapped beneath a fallen pole. She held something lifeless in her arms, but Arris didn’t let herself recognize what it was.

The Sith Lord reached for her holster, slowly drawing and leveling her gun as the woman’s desperate eyes turned to realization, then horror.

The Sith felt someone grab her arm. Her eyes snapped to the right with violent intention, only to break at who she saw. A young woman with dirty blonde hair, covered in soot and blood.

“Don’t do this, Arris…”

Roxana…

Was it the Netherworld? Delirium from the battle? Was this a side effect of Quinn’s power, coursing throughout her cybernetic veins?

“This isn’t who you have to be.” Her words were a calm reminder to Arris that she had a choice.

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.

 

[Sindel Krymer]

S I N D E L . K R Y M A R

| Location | Planetside, Abregado-Rae​

| Objective | Sample Collection​

The Mandalorian conscripts kept their focus on the Sith, rifles firing in quick staccato bursts, yellow bolts razing the smoke filled air as they forced her to block or slow her down by dodging. Revna still insisted on pursuing him with dogged stubbornness. Sindel maintained his distance as he raised his wrist up to his helm, establishing a link to his ship in low orbit over the battlefield as he began backpedaling towards the nearest tree line.​

​

<"Jettison S-Y1 through Y5 to my grid coordinates.">​

​

<"Sir?">​

​

<"If I have to ask again, you will be the next test subject.">​

​

Somewhere in the skies above them, a smaller Mandalorian vessel disengaged several locks as five sizeable containers were launched from its underside, falling towards the planet. It was irritating to have to deal with the Sith when he was intending to keep to his own devices, but there were still contingencies in place and for the time being he was protected.​

​

"And here I was hoping to have more time with those specimens...", he muttered to himself.​

​

He passed by the Mandalorian who had initially sent flying by the Force, hearing their groans as they were trying to get up to their feet,​

​

"Get up and fight you idiot." Sindel hissed he said as he reached down and grabbed the Mandalorian off the ground and up to his feet. Revna's attention was diverted away from Sindel for the time being as she moved to thin out the Mandalorian warriors. Luckily for Sindel and now his immediate companion, they were safe from having their heads exploded by wizardry.​

​

Revna Marr

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Outfit
Belt of Strength, Field Com-Scan Link,
Weal & Woe
Kor'ethyr Issued Kainate Trooper Armor
Armor Permissions

Ally: Varin Mortifer
Opponents: Braze & Korar Murrak

The simplicity of violence was all he knew for a long moment. Though he lacked all finesse using the Force in a more mental or esoteric capacity, rising bloodlust fueled the darkness roiling up within Naamino. Blast bolts burned through the air and somewhere distant, the mechanical whistle and bite of ammunition clattered, horrific screams from grotesquely slain adversaries ringing out and cutting short.

All the while, Glaivewings danced and darted above. Occasionally they swooped down, reconfiguring mid-flight, and landing atop lower-lying buildings before opening fire with their powerful laser cannons. The sound of their maddening mechanical chitters filled the air with dread, just as much as the high-pitched whine of their ion engines in flight. Larger vessels loomed close to the back lines, small retrieval drones swarming about them like flies. They congregated around the bodies of slain Mandalorians, ripping away their armor and hauling it and the corpse back to these airborne ships. They would leave nothing to waste, both the flesh and the armor of their enemies put to use.

Now their discipline had begun to reap benefits, as Mandalorian ambushers suddenly found themselves ambushed in turn. Hyal'Sethi, a horrendous blend of Graug and Yevetha, suddenly appeared from seemingly nowhere all at once. Half-a-meter long dew claws, artificially reinforced by Beskar, punctured Mandalorian armor like skewers through meat. Evisceration was their preferred method of killing, disemboweling and dismantling their prey to maximize the psychological horror on those that witnessed their brutality. Those that found their ranks broken by the Hyal’Sethi then were subsumed by the advancing Graug warriors, broken down warrior by warrior until there were none left to butcher.

Still, the zabrak could feel the tide shifting even before he saw the enemy reinforcements with his own eyes. This wasn't true battle sense, not in the traditional sense, but something more primal than that. Having fought in countless battles now, Naami had a knack for feeling the flow of battle. So when the new waves of troops struck, he pivoted.

Beside him came Korar Murrak Korar Murrak , a towering mass of armor, weaponry, and brute strength accompanied by Kovita, while behind them came the greater violence of the Stormborn host. For all the sheer difference in their stature, there was something almost more unsettling about the smaller figure perched amongst them.

Korar leaned forward slightly just before the ramp opened, holding onto the reins with force. Once it did, Kovita took off like a slug being shot off. The nearby wall didn't slow her down; her four tusks smashed into it first, followed by her armored head and body. The sudden crash made the few civilians inside scream. Some ran the other way, though most rushed past them and through the new hole once they saw the Mandalorian atop the armored beast.

Glacial blue eyes narrowed within his helmet as Naami registered the newcomers. Sure enough, there were ample reinforcements — more even than the zabrak had braced for. He reached for Weal and readied an open palm with the other hand. His early forward momentum of wreaking destruction through those holed up in the factory now slowed to assess the greater threat.

Firing off two rays of Force blast tinged with nauseating and physically draining energy, Naami aimed for the massive beast careening their way. He began to move with Varin deeper into the factory, seeking a more defensive position while remaining ready for the newcomers to strike. Over comms, Naami's low voice crackled through to Varin.

[Fully engage here, or draw them elsewhere?]​

He watched, as glowing streaks of orbital cannonfire rained down through the sickly clouds. A blinding flash erupted across the horizon, and the ground trembled violently as a massive pillar of fire devoured machinery and squadrons of supercommandos and legionnaires alike. Only the molten ruin of the refinery remained amid the rain of flaming debris and toxic smoke.

Then the very ground shook and a blinding explosion illuminated everything for a few long, searing moments despite how distant it was from their current location.

Ah fuck… Naami growled to himself, grip tightening on the hilt of Weal as it activated with a hiss, awaiting Varin's orders.

 

[Vreegan Fett]

The trap had closed around their enemies, as the Mandalorians were making quite the push towards the Drop Zone. He barely had time to move out of the way of a Mandalorian bomber as it came roaring past him. It would only be a matter of time until the Sith would be forced to withdraw from the engagement, as reports had reached him about the presence of a super star destroyer in orbit.

Vreegan adjusted his jetpack, descending lower into the haze. His HUD flickered, filtering out the heavy smoke to track two heat signatures moving through the edge of the clearing. They were crouching near the braziers, trying to use the cover of the pyres to slide past the main Mandalorian line unnoticed.

One seemed hesitant, practically dragging their feet while the other pulled them along. They were trying to hide from the advance, but he would ensure they received a proper welcoming. He raised his left arm, his gauntlet locking onto the coordinates. Vreegan primed a cluster of wrist-rockets and set the timer on a randomized delay and pressed the button.

The rockets hissed out from his vambrace, splitting off into different arcs before slamming into the dirt and rock around Casimir Thorne and Efret Farr position. The detonations went off in an unpredictable pattern, blowing apart the stone cover and throwing up a wall of dirt and shrapnel to pin them in place.

Vreegan kept his rifle held tight against his shoulder, adjusting his thrusters to drop further down through the smoke. He wanted a clear line of sight on whatever was left crawling in the dirt.

Efret Farr Casimir Thorne
Siv Dragr Kamon Hourn

 

[Raukai Ironstone]

Just before the Whispering Matron impacted the Kar'ta Kelborn, the entire bridge seemed to buckle as turbolaser fire slammed into the rear shielding. At the same moment, Careena Fett warships emerged from hyperspace as part of the Mandalorian entrapment, intending to block the Sith forces from assisting the nearby Super Star Destroyer.

He turned his head slightly to the right and saw that the Tyranny was already suffering damage though it was holding for now. He shook his head in disappointment before his eyes wandered down to the terminal beside him. The enemy's firepower had finally broken through the rear shielding and breached the engine block.

They were intent on leaving him dead in the water, with no means of withdrawing from the crowded battlefield. "So be it," he said under his breath. Raising a hand, he signaled the helm officers around him.

"Cut the power to the engines and redirect all remaining power to the tractor beams." He didn't wait for confirmation. The hurried sound of boots crossing the deck and fingers flying across terminals told him everything he needed to know. Moments later, the command was carried out.

Below decks, the damaged sublight engines finally gave out. Thuds shook the hull as pressure built up in the damaged systems. Then, with a series of loud ruptures, the engines tore apart, flames bursting from the wreckage before quickly dying in the vacuum of space.

Zavar Kelborn

 

[Yuri Maji]

ABREGADO-RAE | ORBIT
ALLIES: COV | Iris Beroya | Kjartan Hammer-Hand
ENEMIES: TSC | Ceria Kesyk
ENGAGING: Ceria Kesyk
GEAR: In bio

Spoiler: Fleet complement

• Capital ships:
  • 3x Ha’rangir-class Star Destroyers
    • Haran’s Call (100 | 43)
    • Mandalore’s Lament (100 | 57)
    • Silence (100 | 49)
  • 6x Brok’ur-class Assault Cruisers
    • Hurricane (0 | 0)
    • Glassmaker (100 | 58)
    • White Rose (100 | 63)
    • Snow’s Kiss (100 | 47)
    • Merciless (0 | 0)
    • Storm’s Beauty (100 | 55)
  • 1x Dalab-class Strike Carriers
  • 6x Aranar-class Escort Frigates
• Support craft:
  • Jai’galaar Starfighters
  • ’Howler’ Basilisk War Droids
  • Keldab-class Dropships
  • ’Mangonel’ Basilisk War Droids
• Ground vehicles:
  • ’Sentinel’ Light Walker
  • ’Chimera’ Medium Assault Walker

BATTLE OF CHRISTOPHSIS​

The bold strategy was looking more promising by the minute, it was simply a matter of how far they were willing to get. The three ships were rapidly approaching the aft of the massive vessel along with the superstructure, scans and educated guesses dictating that it was the most likely spot for all the important bits.

Yuri could only hope that, between him and the rest of the bridge, they were all smart enough to make an accurate call. All they needed was a gap. And with the stern of the ship quickly approaching, time was running out. Dorsal guns and broadsides peppered the surrounding enemy vessels while cruisers buzzed around to draw their attention. A Mandalorian ship could likely be worth ten of their enemy’s… it didn’t matter when their enemy had a lot more than ten. They were killing the enemy, one by one, but they were losing their own. Two cruisers, a carrier and frigates. All men under his command.

The shields were holding, but taking significantly more damage with both ships pressing against them. Their only hope was the cap drains siphoning power to recycle from the behemoth below them. The rear shields were quickly losing integrity under the constant enemy barrage.

”Finger on the trigger… wait…” Yuri clung to the dashboard by the viewport, attention divided between what he was seeing ahead of them and the tactical overview, waiting for that one moment.

”There. Fire now!” He barked. The three ships fired their solar cannons once again, concentrated on one point to punch a hole into the aft of the massive ship. He didn’t expect it to do much damage, they simply needed the hole in the armour. As the three ships fired, the numerous wings of fighters and Basilisks rushed through the hole in the shields as they weathered the torrential monsoon of point defense weaponry. Many would die, plenty had already, all in a desperate gamble to jettison some of their most powerful weapons.

A squadron of Mangonels, using their brethren’s distraction, made for the newly punctured hole in the dreadnought to release four seismic charges into the vessel. Autonomous, no life risked, they were an acceptable loss as the powerful weapons blew up with a fuse delay just long enough for the three destroyers to reach the stern of the giant ship.

Yuri had no clue of how much damage it would do. Knock out a reactor, shred some systems, maybe even a mobility kill. Maybe nothing at all. They couldn’t stop shooting. Not as a bright blue light flashed through the void of space. Not as they targeted the giant engines of the behemoth. They were alone, as far as he knew…

”Sir! Ships coming out of hyperspace!” An officer called out. His heart sank immediately. Fear gripped at his soul, but before he could even begin to process the news, he noticed the smile on the officer’s face. ”Friendly colours. Mandalorian.” A breath escaped the Hound.

They heard him. They came.

”On screen.” He muttered with a timid voice. Sure enough, ship after ship entered the system to engage the enemy with a number of vessels Yuri struggled to wrap his head around. The majority of the Mythos Fleet fighting force had come to their aid.

”They’re here.” He smiled. For the first time in days, he could smile with sincerity. ”Manda’s grace, they heard us.” Haggan spoke up with a relieved laugh. Yuri gave him a shake of the shoulder as he moved toward the comms station. A channel was opened to Kjartan Hammer-Hand and his flagship, but what would he say? For saving his life, and the lives of his men, what could he say to the Hammer-Hand?

:: Hammer-hand… Darasuum Kote. :: He spoke, the joy and relief in his voice clear as day.

Sure, their reinforcements were going to have a hell of a time to avoid the rift in reality, but they could take care of themselves. For the moment the orbital fleet could breathe and recover. What remained of their squadrons returned to their hangars or their duties planetside.

Finally backed up by their reinforcements, the orbital fleet could begin to reconfigure their operations and mission. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but the pressure that was on them only an hour ago was finally allowed to ease up.

Fighters and Basilisks scrambled around the skies in a brutal battle to keep the evacuation path clear. Others refit and went down to bombard the growing plague and its origin points with cryogenic ordnance, or simply harassed the Sith forces on the ground. The howl of the eighty War Droids split the air as they swooped down to deliver devastating close air support for their comrades.

The Mandalorian war machine had been unleashed upon its enemy, for good or ill. The remaining cruisers and frigates consolidated to fight the remaining Sith ships more effectively. Coordinated volleys, simultaneous strikes, constant movement to try and break their adversary’s aim.

The Sith were on the back foot, their momentum was broken.

The stricken carrier was lost in its collision course of the Siege ship. Several vessels were erupting into flames and deadly debris. The fight was looking to reach its climax in the skies of Abregado-Rae.

Spoiler: summary

• SD’s fire solar ions to make a hole in the aft section of the SSD.
• Seismic charges are deployed to break the ship from the inside.
• Orbital fleet adjusts to focus more on ground support and trailing.
• The 3 SDs move to the rear of the Tyranny to target its engines and weaker parts.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber | Wyrmfang​

Destruction rained down outside of the factory walls as the faint screams of dead souls fully absorbed into his being. Soon it was replaced by the screams of those outside, barking orders to their squadrons as the tide had been turned against them. He could feel the desperation in those below him, the sense of urgency within their very being as they continued to push those some were heavily driven back.

Varin stood for but a moment to bask in the feeling. Absorbing it all, picturing the battlefield around them. Large machines falling, orbital bombardments descending upon them as if the heavens themselves were weeping. Frustration slowly built within him as he felt around him what exactly was transpiring. The Sith were held to a slow crawl.

The foundation shook beneath his feet as another factory exploded, the flash of fire flaring through the ruined windows of the building before him. Varin almost did not notice when the other two had joined them. Even with the drop in temperature. Had this had happened some time prior perhaps he would have been concerned.

Graug had arrived to descend upon some of the approaching troops that were rallied with the two newcomers. They had stepped into a battlefield full of teeth and claws. Varin watched as these beasts would rip and tear through some of these reinforcements. He looked past the two new faces at these creatures and slowly reached his hand out, imposing His will upon them.

Feast, take your fill.

Varin watched as Naamino fired his blasts of force energy towards the larger man, then with his other hand he gently took from the burning column. The heat and explosive fury now absorbing into his body. Every bit of destruction from the battlefield around them, every bit of flame, every bit of rage, fear and panic siphoning into his being.

Naamino would hear within his mind.

Draw them to the top of the building. I believe our guests should enjoy a show as our battle continues. Be prepared to move.

Then finally his gaze passed over the two individuals.

“I almost did not hear you come in.”

Smoking wisps trailed off his back and to the floor, slowly snaking along to the walls.

Finally his fingers clenched into a fist. The building rumbled around them, the floor shaking further at their feet. Duracrete and durasteel groaned, rattled and creaked above them as Varin stepped back just slightly out of the room.

Now.

His fingers released, and massive chunks of toppling stone and steel began to fall over the newly made entrance and those who were just within it followed by sections of the ceiling just above them that held up the next floor, traveling all across the room.

Naamino Zuukamano | Korar Murrak | Braze​

 

[Feydrik Munin]

​

Equipment: Crushgaunts, Wristrockets, Disruptor Pistols, Disruptor Rifle, Beskad, Beskar Knives, Jetpack Rocket, Flamethrower, Personal Shield

Calyx Sundrift l Anet Raine

The ambush came, and the domineering, sheer presence of the Mandalorians might above the planet roared. Their guns blazed, firing, destroying, repelling and damning all that came. Battle-damage-assessments came pouring in, success after success. The Sith were caught entirely off guard by their maneuver, and were having trouble coming up with a way to counter their attack this quickly. Even the mighty ship above orbit, the Sith pride, came under fire. He saw the streaks of light, an exchange of fire between giants. Mandalorians were fierce warriors in all aspects, even in the arena of naval warfare.

He took another deep breath as his Lieutenants reported the casualties from the civilians. The reports were true. The plague was airborne. There was nothing to be done. The Sith released this plague, then failed to consider that the Mandalorians had the stomach to contain it. It would not be the first time that the Mandalorians were underestimated in their resolve, nor would it be the last. He wondered if the Sith were surprised. Perhaps they were used to the weakness and knee-bending of Verd's Mando'ade, or the heroics and antics of the Jedi. Perhaps they simply did not consider the Mandalorian's ruthlessness.

The usage of Disruptor weapons seemed to be the most effective, even on the plague stalks. After the Sith assaults were repelled and the few areas that they gained ground were leveraged, the Sith troops were simply locked in an inter-locked field of fire. The little ground they gained meant little if they could not secure a beachhead or had a direct assault on the encircled Mandalorians.

The air support overhead rained fire on armor, artillery, the like. He saw the War Droids screech, horrifying sounds to the enemy. Their weapons were powerful and mighty, and the Bes'uliik ripped, tore, clawed, destroyed with reckless abandon. Feydrik approached the edge of the rooftop, having, for the time being, sent most of his command staff and support personnel away to check on the friendly positions hands-on. Jetpacks screeched away from his rooftop perch, leaving him alone with just a handful of Supercommandos. They were restless warriors, denied the glory of combat but steadfast in their duties and their posts.

Feydrik understood their frustration, leaning over the holographic map he had been looking at and issuing commands from.

"Your time will come, warrior." He said to a nearby Supercommando. The young man leaned his head up, then nodded after taking a moment to think. There were many battles in the galaxy. This would not be the first, nor the last. Feydrik approached the perch of his rooftop, watching the exchange of gunfire nearby. Disruptor rounds attacked the plaguestalks, the organic matter giving way to the disturbing and frankly frightening visage of what happened to anything a disruptor touched. The plague was ripped apart at the atomic level, molecules torn and scoured. It was not a painless death, but it was quick. The Mandalorians continued to clear out infected civilians and those caught near the stalks, and even, sadly, the bodies of their fallen. They would rather not bury their kinsmen than let them become fuel for the grotesque machinations of the Sith.

The ambush had worked. Feydrik breathed a small sigh of relief.

​

 

[Pax Velloran]

Service Levels | Western Freight Annex

Administrative Transit | Leontis Antalis & Astra Sadow (Indirect/ Environmental) |Open to Tags

Pax remained just short of the landing and listened as the footsteps worked their way down toward him. There were at least three sets, probably four, and one carried enough weight to suggest armor. A scanner chirped somewhere beyond the stairwell door, followed by a brief exchange he couldn't quite make out. Whoever was coming down wasn't in much of a hurry, which suggested they were being deliberate.

He backed away from the stairs and returned to a maintenance recess he'd noticed on the way in. The access partition opened manually, revealing a narrow space crowded with ventilation equipment and utility lines. It wasn't intended for people, but there was enough room for one if he was willing to be uncomfortable for a few minutes. Pax slipped inside, eased the panel mostly closed and waited.

The stairwell door opened less than a minute later. Through the narrow gap he watched two armed soldiers enter with a technician between them, followed by another pair. Their weapons remained lowered, though not by much, and the technician carried a portable access unit connected to the building systems. They weren't searching specifically for Pax, but they were checking rooms as they moved.

He stayed where he was.

The technician worked through the offices one at a time while the soldiers cleared each room behind him. By the time they reached the customs archive, Pax had already concluded that explaining why he was concealed inside a maintenance space with a bypass kit and several copied customs records would probably be more difficult than simply remaining quiet.

A burst of traffic came over one of the soldiers' comms. Pax could only make out fragments through the partition, but the effect was immediate. The methodical sweep ended, the technician disconnected his equipment and the group headed back toward the stairs with considerably more urgency than they'd arrived with. Another distant impact followed shortly afterward, heavy enough to send a faint tremor through the floor.

Pax waited until the stairwell door closed before stepping back into the corridor.

The status display near the archive had changed again.

DEFENSIVE LOCKDOWN IN EFFECT

He quickly checked his datapad. Two of the freight-level connections he'd intended to use on the way back were now restricted, along with most of the central concourse. Pax pulled the facility map up and reconsidered the route to the Larkspur. The most direct path ran through the commercial levels and into the western landing galleries, which also meant passing through whatever security presence had taken control of them.

He chose the service grid instead.

The maintenance corridors climbed gradually toward the freight levels, narrow passages built to move technicians and equipment without interfering with ordinary port traffic. They were quieter than the concourse, though not empty. Port workers appeared at several intersections carrying tools or emergency supplies, and Pax passed one maintenance team moving in the opposite direction without either side showing much interest in the other.

The atmosphere changed once he reached the upper levels. The archive below had been almost deserted; here, people were being moved with purpose. Armed personnel occupied major intersections while port staff redirected civilians toward designated processing areas. Access shutters had come down across several corridors, forcing everyone through fewer routes, and the occasional concussion from somewhere outside the structure was becoming difficult to mistake for distant fighting.

Pax stayed near the edges of the traffic and kept the datapad in his hand. Looking as though he had somewhere to be remained surprisingly effective when everyone around him had more immediate problems.

It stopped being useful at the next junction.

A temporary checkpoint had been established across the main freight passage ahead. Portable barriers divided the corridor into narrow lanes, with scanners positioned beside each one and armed personnel checking everyone trying to pass. Port employees were being separated from ordinary civilians, while several people dressed considerably better than either group had been pulled aside for additional questioning. One was arguing with an officer over commercial credentials that apparently no longer carried the authority they had earlier that day.

Pax stopped before entering the flow and watched for a moment.

The respirator wouldn't attract much attention. The coat might.

What was underneath it certainly would.

He checked the map again. An older cargo-service corridor ran parallel to the main passage, originally built to move bonded freight between the warehouses and landing galleries without crossing civilian traffic. Most of the route remained open, but the final section had been sealed by a security shutter when the lockdown began. The local system showed no civilian override.

Pax looked once toward the checkpoint before turning away from it.

"Of course."

The service corridor was longer, but it also involved considerably fewer questions.

Another impact rolled through the western side of the port while he was making his way up. The overhead lights flickered out for several seconds before the emergency strips along the floor came alive, and somewhere beyond the walls the intermittent sound of weapons fire had grown close enough to carry through the structure.

By the time Pax reached the upper freight galleries, it was becoming difficult to pretend the fighting was still somewhere outside the spaceport.

A narrow observation panel at the end of the corridor overlooked part of the western landing area. Smoke hung beneath the overhead structures while personnel moved between berths and temporary defensive positions. Several passages had been barricaded entirely, though Pax could still see Cresh-Seven through the haze and, beyond it, the berth where he'd left the Larkspur.

The shuttle still remained. Unfortunately, so did the route between them.

Another security position covered the freight passage leading toward the berth. Portable scanners and barriers had narrowed the cargo lane into a controlled crossing, with port workers receiving quick checks while civilians were stopped for considerably longer. Pax watched a man with two commercial cases produce a set of credentials, argue briefly and get redirected toward the processing area anyway. Two others were already waiting against the wall.

Getting through wasn't impossible. There was simply very little reason to volunteer for it.

Pax brought up the surrounding service plan on his datapad. The bonded-cargo corridor continued toward the landing galleries, but a security shutter had sealed the final connection. A maintenance loading bay offered another route, opening onto the freight floor before joining a service corridor on the far side. It would leave him exposed for part of the crossing, but that seemed preferable to presenting himself and the contents of his coat for inspection.

The blaster might have been explainable. The lightsaber considerably less so. He could probably influence whoever held the scanner if it came to that, but turning an inconvenient checkpoint into a test of whether someone could be persuaded not to notice a concealed weapon seemed like an unnecessary complication.

Pax closed the map and headed for the loading bay.

The service passage opened behind a row of parked cargo-handling equipment at the edge of the freight floor. From there he could see the next access door roughly forty meters away, past a line of idle tractors and several stacks of freight containers. There was cover at either end and very little in between. Anyone stationed around the checkpoint, or looking down from the surrounding galleries, would have a clear view of most of the crossing.

A pair of port workers emerged nearby with an overloaded repulsor cart between them. Pax waited until they passed, adjusted the respirator and stepped out several meters behind.

He kept his pace ordinary. Hurrying would attract attention, and trying too hard to disappear into someone else's movement tended to accomplish much the same thing. With the datapad in one hand and the respirator covering part of his face, there was nothing especially remarkable about another civilian trying to reach somewhere else before the next corridor closed.

At least, not from a distance.

The workers continued toward one of the freight lifts. Pax followed their general direction until they began turning away, then carried on toward the service access alone. The checkpoint remained off to his right, close enough now that he could hear fragments of conversation and the occasional tone from one of the scanners.

He didn't look toward it again.

There was no longer anyone between him and the far corridor, and very little between him and anyone who happened to be paying attention.

Pax kept walking.

// END RECORD