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

[Leontis Antalis]

LEONTIS ANTALIS
Outfit/Armor

Astra Sadow had interpreted defend the research rather differently than Leontis had intended. He watched her accelerate toward the Mandalorian line with her broadsaber in hand, heavy weapons tracking her almost immediately. There was a beat of silence. Then Leontis looked toward one of his House Guardsmen. "I believe Miss Sadow and I have very different interpretations of holding a defensive position." The Guardsman said nothing. "Yes, I thought so."

The first barrage struck somewhere ahead, throwing dust and shattered duracrete into the air. Astra disappeared behind it. Leontis' expression flattened. "Do not follow her." That order went out immediately. The House Guard adjusted around him while Astra's mercenaries and remaining personnel continued preparing for the assault. Whatever instincts they might have had to reinforce their employer were overridden by the much less heroic reality sitting behind them.

Scientists. Research. Communications. Test samples. Prisoners. The infrastructure of a cure that might eventually make Abregado-rae inhabitable again. Leontis raised his wrist. "All defensive elements, tighten the perimeter. We are not counterattacking." His gaze moved over the approach. "Let them come to us."

The order suited him considerably better. "Heavy weapons remain concealed until useful targets present themselves. Do not waste fire on individuals Astra has already decided to entertain personally."

He looked toward the dust cloud again. Still no Astra. Probably fine. Probably. "Protect the laboratories first. Communications second. Personnel third." One of the scientists nearby looked up at that. Leontis noticed. "Present company excluded from the implied ranking." The scientist did not look reassured.

His attention shifted back to the tactical display. Inside the spaceport, the main force continued advancing. Not quickly. But advancing. That mattered. Reports came in piecemeal. Another administrative section secured. Civilian groups searched and separated. Port workers detained. A suspected corporate officer identified. Sporadic resistance along one of the freight corridors.

Leontis opened the platoon channel. "Maintain current objectives." His voice remained steady over the network. "Do not allow developments outside the terminal to distract you. Continue processing civilians and taking infrastructure." A pause. "We now have confirmation that Mandalorian personnel are concealing themselves among noncombatants."

That required emphasis. "Search everyone before moving them into secured areas. Weapons, armor, military-grade cybernetics, unusual vambraces, concealed communications equipment—anything that does not belong on a frightened civilian gets investigated." He glanced toward the research compound. "And no detainee approaches command personnel or sensitive equipment without being cleared."

Violet One remained contested. Leontis checked their marker. Still alive. Still near the tower. Good enough for the moment. "Violet One."

Static answered. "Receiving."

"Status?"

"Still working the alternate access."

"No change in orders. Do not get dragged back toward the main approach."

"Acknowledged."

"Find me something the tower cannot function without." He cut the transmission.

Then something changed. Not on the tactical display. Not in the air. Inside him. Leontis stiffened. The sensation was faint at first. A pressure where there should have been nothing—those strange, intrusive sensations and half-formed instincts that had always lingered at the edge of awareness, kept distant enough to ignore ever since infancy, when the amulet that shielded him from the Force had first been placed around his neck.

This was different. Something forced its way through. Not words. Not exactly. Fragments. Emotion. Defiance. Pain. Fury. A command that felt less heard than remembered.

Stand.
Fight.
Do not break.
Be Sith.

Leontis' hand rose instinctively toward the amulet beneath his armor. His breath caught. For a few seconds the battlefield seemed sharper. The screams farther away. The impact of weapons. The approaching Mandalorians. The men around him waiting for orders. There was something else threaded through it. Thousands of voices, perhaps. Or one voice carrying thousands. He could almost make out pieces of it.

True Lords.
Darkest hour.
Stand.
Move.
Fight.

Leontis closed his eyes.

Mercy. He did not know how he connected the “voice” to the Empress. The certainty simply existed.

The amulet pushed back against the intrusion, strangling the sensation almost as quickly as it had arrived. But it left something behind. Heat. Not Dark Side corruption. Not revelation. Just an utterly unreasonable certainty that standing behind a barricade while everyone else fought suddenly felt insufficient.

Leontis opened his eyes. One of his Guardsmen was looking at him. "My lord?"

Leontis stared toward the approaching Mandalorians. "This is an extremely inconvenient development."

"Sir?"

He reached toward the weapons rack mounted against the command position. For half a second his hand hovered. Then he took a rifle.

The Guardsman's posture changed immediately. "My lord—"

"Don't." Leontis checked the weapon. He knew how to use one. That was not the same thing as being especially eager to demonstrate it. Normally.

"Antalis Actual is moving to the forward defensive line." The communications officer looked up sharply. Leontis ignored him. "Command remains active through this channel." He pointed toward the tactical station. "You continue feeding me the spaceport reports. If I become distracted, remind me that I have considerably more valuable responsibilities than getting shot."

His four House Guardsmen moved with him. Of course they did. Leontis stepped out from the relative protection of the central research position and toward the forward barricades. He did not charge. He was not Astra. He had standards. But he moved.

The snowfall had begun to mix with ash and dust, catching strangely against his environmental protection. Somewhere overhead enormous weapons continued exchanging fire in orbit. Ahead, Mandalorian armor and infantry were pressing toward the camp.

Leontis reached the first defensive emplacement. Astra's mercenaries looked briefly toward the nobleman suddenly appearing beside them. He settled the rifle against the barricade. "Try not to look so surprised."

The first targets came into view. Leontis fired. The recoil bit harder than he remembered. His second shot was better. The third better still. Not elegant. Not spectacular. But enough.

A House Guardsman beside him opened fire with considerably greater competence. Leontis glanced toward him. "Yes, yes. Very impressive."

Another volley passed overhead. He ducked instinctively. A moment later he rose again. The strange remnant of Mercy's call still lingered somewhere beneath the protection of the amulet. Not words anymore. Just momentum. A refusal to retreat.

Leontis opened the command channel again while firing. "Main force." Blaster bolts crossed the defensive line. "Continue taking the spaceport." Another shot. "Violet Two, keep that cannon functioning." Another. "Violet One, find me the tower's throat and squeeze it." He paused long enough to sight another approaching figure. "And everyone at this position—" Leontis fired. "Hold."

His Guardsmen answered with disciplined volleys. The Mandalorians continued advancing. Somewhere ahead, Astra was either alive or about to create a very complicated invoice. Leontis smiled faintly behind his mask. Perhaps Mercy had been right. Perhaps there were moments when standing safely behind everyone else simply would not do. He had no intention of making a habit of it. But for now—House Antalis stood.

Grace | Xan Atropus | Veyla Tass | Srina Talon | Kaelyr | The Arkanian | Carduul Akahl | Mercy | Astra Sadow

​

​

 

[Iris Beroya]

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

THE SHELTERING WINGS OF THE PROTECTOR

Engaging: Helix
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 cryoban bombs dropped by Claw and Fang squadrons blossomed, freezing out blast sites where they hit. But that was only the initial salvo.

One by one, a swarm of Sarcophagus Droidfighters unfolded from the crawler's topside hangar and took to the sky, zipping upwards to engage the interlopers. The slow-fire crackling of small-scale phosphor cannons added to the deafening racket of the battlefield. The advanced strike craft dove and weaved between the heartbeat-thin gaps in the crawler's flak, and added their own fire into the upward hailstorm.

Talon 4
«What are those?!»

Strill One
«New bandits coming out of the Supercrawler.»

AWACS Watcher
«All squadrons, the Supercrawler is sending out a sortie of droid fighters. Fang squadron, pull back and engage them, maintain aerial superiority.»

Fang Lead
«Roger.»

Fang 3
«Time to hunt.»​

The starfighters of Fang squadron began a deadly dance with the droidfighters. There were only six starfighters in a standard Jai'galaar squadron, but in this case Fang was supplemented by a Basilisk, whose artificial intelligence deemed these droidfighters to be inferior and began trying to snag them out of mid air and blow them apart like an eagle among sparrows.

Meanwhile, the crawler's primary artillery batteries continued to fire, stitching lines of glowing craters across the factory districts. One building in particular was struck directly, adding another visible mushroom cloud to that which had been destroyed earlier. From the sheer size of the eruption, he suspected it had been a fuel depot or chemical storage. Scratch one more target.

AWACS Watcher
«Claw, maintain cryoban drops on blast sites as they develop. The manufacturing capabilities of Abregado-Rae might be important to them, but our only objective here is to stop the spread of the heat and flames which will encourage the plague loose on the planet. »

Claw Lead
«Copy. Dropping now.»​

Two cryoban bombs fell on the building the Supercrawler had just struck, dousing the flames in a freezing wash.

AWACS Watcher
«Talon, Strill, it will take both of you combined launching at once to even make a dent in its defenses. Attack now. »
​

Iris and the other ten remaining starfighters of Talon and Strill dove in another attack run against the Supercrawler. Iris saw another insignia blink out on her dash, one of the new Strill pilots who had replaced their losses at Humbarine. Her grips on the controls tightened as she stormed through flak and plasma, then ten starfighters dropped their payloads all at once.

The ten KXM missiles all streaked down as one, targeting the AA emplacements to soak them in bioplasmatic gel and neutralize further anti-air attacks.

And as they did, the first flakes of snow began to fall from a storm gathering in cold and ferocity.

​

 

[Fenn Stag]

FENN STAG

Spaceport
Xan Atropus

​

He sent the Sith sprawling, the girl thundering away, to a lower part of the spaceport exposed by the broken floor. She fell a good fifteen feet, and would have a hard time rejoining the fight, but for the moment, she was out of it. Fenn turned his attention back to the Sith attacking Vara Maji . He was fully distracted, his crimson blade held out the attack.

Vara would be set on in mere moments, a full-fledged Sith solely focused on her. Fenn wasn't going to allow that to happen. He moved forward, that cruel speed he possessed. He slinked and moved low to the ground like his namesake, and bared his teeth beneath his helmet.

The Sith might've heard him. But hopefully, the Sith felt moreso, Fenn's arms wrapping around him to try and suplex him into the floor below while he was focused on Vara.

​

 

[Meliant]

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

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

Taking another shuddering breath, Kade slammed the tip of his beskar into the deck with his one remaining hand and pushed himself back up to his feet. He could not fail the vode. He must give them time. He must make a stand.

On his lips, an ancient dirge for the fallen.

"Echoy'la, Echoy'la."​

The warlock stood again despite the pressure. Meliant tilted his head and watched him, curious. The wrinkling of his nose in plain contempt evident in his tone even if it couldn't be made manifest on his face. "What the hell are you talking about? Are you having a stroke?"​

Leveling his beskad at Meliant, he let out a blast of telekinetic energy in the Force meant to hurl the Sith swordmaster against the far wall, [...]

Meliant had figured he had already won, as he often did, so he was flung easily across the bridge where he smashed into the sealed, heavy bulkhead that separated them from the rest of the ship.​

​

[...] then Kade charged toward the Thing which called itself Cruelty, swinging his beskad as he did to lop its head from its shoulders unless one of them stopped him.

​

An invisible snare made to close itself around the wrist of that hand which held the beskad. Painless but firm. Strong enough to suddenly arrest its motion.​

​

"Do you think we're finished here?" There came that hideous laugh again, as Meliant slowly rose from among the desolation of the bridge, one hand outstretched again.​

​

Marvelous, ill-favored in his rotten panoply, he brought to mind a dying sun cresting the horizon of some ruined world. But even an old, sputtering sun brought great and small things alike in its orbit.​

​

"Do you think I'm done with you?"​

​

There would come a great yank, and the warlock - if he were unprepared for such a thing - would be pulled from his feet and dragged along the floor of the bridge (slick with viscera) back to Meliant.​

​

To fight. To die, too, if that was what he wanted in the deepest recesses of his heart. Those who traffick with spirits often desire secretly to become one themselves.​

And him now, alone. Facing four.

No.

Facing five. Five wills against his own.

Stories often grow in the telling, but this one hadn't been told yet. The fact of the matter was that it was only one fussy, gold-plated Sith Lord with any interest in killing this fellow. Two had their love puddle, and the Vice-Admiral had the helm.​

​

These things… You know the rest.​

 

[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 | Lina Ovmar

Lily closed her eyes stretching her own thread pushing the network away from her own mind and constructing something between, it wasn’t as neat or perfect. Strands snapped under the sheer weight of information pressing against it, reforging rapidly in its wake, but it was easier, the pain was duller, the noise quieter.

Lily looked up at him. <<“Thank you.”>>

Gently, she pushed him away, making a mental note to find him when all this was done.

Cruelty watched on with pride as Lily attempted her own version of his work. Soon enough he felt her mind still, it wasn't perfect, the first time was never perfect. But she was a natural, perhaps a prodigy even, he could not believe that they had almost lost her to mercenary needs simply because his Creator had not seen the potential in her.

Shortsighted.

Remember... your mind can continue long after your body gives up. His voice fluttered out of existence as Cruelty was gently pushed away and back into the now.

then Kade charged toward the Thing which called itself Cruelty, swinging his beskad as he did to lop its head from its shoulders unless one of them stopped him.

"Do you think I'm done with you?"There would come a great yank, and the warlock - if he were unprepared for such a thing - would be pulled from his feet and dragged along the floor of the bridge (slick with viscera) back to Meliant.

The beskad passed dangerously close by him, the sharp edge running along his cheek, as Cruelty watched on with curiosity. The pain flared up, danger bursting into his nerves. He knew he would be dead now if not for a slice of luck and timely intervention. He was almost disappointed by that.

Existence was pain, horror, really.

At a fundamental level Cruelty knew that he should not exist. That the simple act of breathing was an affront to everything that was right and just about the world.

It was not that he wanted to die. It was just that he knew that within the cosmic balance, if he did die, it would be a just thing. Why would Cruelty rage against something like that?

Alas, Meliant was all blood and rage and smoking fury.

"My dear child, what have they done to you?"

He glanced up towards Lina Ovmar with a smile. "We brought war to this world. It is only natural they struggle against their own extermination. But I am glad you are here with us." The voice warm and welcome, his hand covering hers where it rested on his wounded shoulder. The bones were setting, but shatters took longer than clean breaks. He hissed at the pain, but in a way it was purifying. It cleared away what his Creator had failed to understand, even as she burst the earlier conversation with Lina to Srina Talon .

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.

Every death of the Sith was a debt being repaid… and it was being sent straight back to the Netherworld. He felt it again, the bookish sensation, so odd. Cruelty didn’t know what to do with that, even as a slice of him still observed the Netherworld Rift.

<< "There is a woman beyond the veil, she has your scent though less…idiotic. She is on her way and the spirits move with her. If you want my assistance-">>

Unlike her battle-sister…She understood everything. Instantly, as if the way forward had become paved with gold and wicked intentions. The way was no longer shut. The realization had barely settled when the Mandalorian fully closed his arm around her and pain turned the world white.

Bookish intent, a woman beyond the veil, whose scent paired with his Creator... but less idiotic. The way was no longer shut.

Cruelty understood it too, because his head was not concussed after getting it clubbed like a pinata by an enraged Mandalorian.

Who exactly fit the bill... of a woman, with a direct link to Mercy, who was known for being studious and bookish? And who... had been murdered relatively recently... who had been a Sith... and was now residing in the Netherworld?

Cruelty smiled even as he stroked the hair of the dying cultist in his arms. Between life and death... something that the Lord of the Sith could have used, except now that he looked up at Lina, he realized something about her. She was also between life and death, maybe even more so than the Graspborn cultist dying in his arms. And someone who was linked to both of these realms at once, would be essential to make this cruel ploy work.

"Together we can do it," he murmured up at her. "If we work together, we can rip it open even wider. That one already created a path, we can take advantage of it... and give her entry."

His eyes closed again, as the blood kept seeping down his face from the cut.

Even if Lina disagreed, he'd do it himself, this was the cruelty that might allow him to exist for a bit longer. Unnatural, against the law of the cosmic balance... but every living being was a hypocrite at heart. They all wished to live, even when they knew that death would better serve the Galaxy.

And wasn't it the same for the undead Dark Lords and Dark Jedi Masters stuck in eternal battle? Wasn't it their desire to fight a real battle one more time? To feel hot blood splatter in their face? To kill one more ancestral enemy?

All that Cruelty would do... was give them their heart's desire.

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.

True eyes opened one more time. But now true arms reached toward the rift first created by the Tyranny, then expanded through the meddling of the enemy until it became a wound.

Cold seeped into his arms, into his body. The closer he came to the Netherworld, the worse it became. But Cruelty was stubborn.

The Lord of the Sith would continue until he himself was dead or the rift would tear open, to allow entry to those that hungered for the living.

 

[Sahan Dragr]

Spoiler: Equipment

Ure'drahr — "The Golden Dragon"
Tusurki'aa Ta'hye Beskad
O'dteyase Saranuhlr
M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol
M.I. Model 12 shatter rifle
Rulariyi Mandalorian Sunglasses

Snow.

Sahan caught the first flakes against his visor as he crossed another ruined stretch of Abregado-rae, the Golden Dragon cutting low through a sky increasingly choked by wind, smoke, and things that had no business flying. Some vanished the instant they struck his armor, melting against plates that still retained traces of heat from atmospheric entry and sustained flight. Others caught along his kama and remained, little flecks of white gathering against dark cloth as the temperature continued its steady decline.

He knew this wasn't natural weather. The battlenet made its source obvious enough, but Sahan would have recognized the A'srucayr's handiwork regardless. He slowed for a moment, turning his helmet toward the darkening sky as another gust drove the falling snow sideways. Strange how quickly it changed the battlefield. Beneath the smoke and ruin, beneath the crawling red infestation and the screams of a city at war, something about the cold felt familiar. It reminded him of home. Kestri. "Heh. Keep it coming, A'srucayr."

Sahan accelerated again. Cold worked. Everyone on the Covenant network knew that by now. Cryogenic weapons were already being deployed against the infestation, and heavier solutions were on their way toward the drop sites. The question occupying Sahan's mind was no longer whether the fungus could be killed. Anything could be killed. The interesting question was how many different ways they could kill it—and whether one of those methods might offer something more useful than simply freezing everything it touched.

His thoughts returned to plasma. Ordinary plasma was out. Too much heat. Against almost anything else, that was the point, but the reports coming across the battlenet had given him no desire to discover what another thermal assault might encourage this organism to do. That didn't mean plasma itself was useless. It didn't have to be hot.

Sahan's flight path changed as he descended toward a relatively clear stretch of infected ground away from the approaching cryogenic bombardment, braking hard enough for repulsors to kick dust, spores, and gathering snow away from his boots before they touched down. The captured specimen remained sealed against his armor, still feeding whatever information Ure'drahr could gather into an increasingly complicated biological model. He intended to keep that one intact. There was no shortage of other material to experiment on.

A corpse shambled through the crimson growth ahead of him. Or something wearing one did. Whatever distinction might once have mattered had been erased by fungal tissue forcing dead muscle back into motion. Perfect. Sahan raised his left hand and spread his fingers.

The Lightning Glove was the obvious starting point. Each armored digit could act as an electrode, and Abregado-rae had already provided all the working gas he could possibly need. He didn't need the plasmacaster. He didn't need to fabricate anything. He needed electricity, atmosphere, thermal control, and some way to stop the resulting ionized gas from immediately dispersing. Ure'drahr already possessed all four. "DRAHR. New operating profile. Lightning Glove, independent finger nodes. Minimum output." Electricity snapped between golden fingertips.

The first discharge was nothing remarkable, little more than branching blue-white arcs leaping through the air between the closest points. Sahan rotated his wrist, watching electrical telemetry populate one corner of his vision. "Pulse it. Short duration. High frequency." The arcs changed, less continuous now, flickering rapidly enough that his eyes could no longer distinguish individual discharges. The surrounding gas began to ionize, but thermal readings immediately started climbing with it. Too much. "Cut." The glow vanished.

Sahan considered the problem for perhaps half a second before opening the Cryoban feed in his left vambrace. Pale vapor hissed between his fingers and curled around the gauntlet, immediately carried sideways by the growing wind. There was the cooling. "Again. Same profile. Compensate against the Cryoban flow." Electricity returned, and this time the vapor caught it.

A pale glow bloomed between Sahan's fingers, faint at first, then increasingly visible as DRAHR adjusted voltage and pulse duration against temperature data coming back from the gauntlet. The gas was ionizing. More importantly, it was doing so without the bulk temperature climbing anywhere near the levels associated with Ure'drahr's conventional plasma systems. Sahan watched the numbers settle. "Better."

Useful, however, was another matter. The plasma clung close to his fingers, a luminous corona with neither reach nor direction. The wind wasn't helping. Fortunately, the armor already knew how to solve that problem too. Ure'drahr's Plasma Ram system had been designed to hold far more energetic plasma against its strike surfaces. Sahan fed the new discharge profile into the same magnetic-containment architecture, dropping its field strength dramatically and allowing DRAHR to reshape the field around the gauntlet. The glow tightened, and Sahan's eyebrows rose behind the visor. "Well, that was easy."

The palm repulsor came next. "Point-five percent." The plasma vanished. Sahan stared at his empty hand. "...Less."

The repulsor restarted at a fraction of its previous output. This time the luminous gas stretched outward before losing coherence, forming a short, flickering plume extending beyond his fingertips. "Hold it there." DRAHR began correcting automatically—electrical pulse, Cryoban flow, magnetic containment, repulsor pressure. Four systems designed for entirely different purposes started negotiating with one another hundreds of times a second. The plume shortened, widened, narrowed again, then stabilized into something resembling a ghostly torch burning from Sahan's hand.

Except it wasn't burning.

Sahan turned his wrist slowly, watching the plume follow. "There you are." He increased the electrical output—not the temperature, the reactive output. The plasma brightened as DRAHR pushed the discharge harder while compensating with shorter pulses and additional cooling. This wasn't the sort of cold plasma anyone sensible would apply to living tissue. Sahan wasn't interested in sensible. Not yet. He wanted the most aggressive nonthermal discharge Ure'drahr could sustain without crossing into the sort of thermal transfer that might provoke the fungus rather than destroy it.

The dead thing ahead of him finally noticed him and lurched forward. Sahan didn't shoot it. He waited, watching the corpse stumble through the snow, fungal growth twisting through ruined flesh as it closed the distance. When it was nearly within reach, Sahan stepped inside its grasp and drove his left palm against the infestation consuming its chest.

The cold-plasma plume disappeared into crimson flesh. Sahan held it there. No conventional plasma flare followed, no sudden blast of scorching heat, no charred tissue or molten armor. The discharge attacked differently: energetic particles and reactive chemistry pouring into fungal tissue while DRAHR monitored temperature, electrical behavior, cellular activity, and every other biological response Ure'drahr could resolve. Sahan increased the output another step. "Come on. Let's see what you don't like."

Sahan held the discharge for several seconds, gathering every scrap of data the armor could pull from the interaction before withdrawing his hand. The biological results would take more observation. The engineering results were already clear: the generator worked.

He withdrew his hand and looked at the luminous plasma still contained around his fingers. Ure'drahr already possessed a distributed Plasma Ram network: gauntlets, elbows, knees, boots. Every surface Sahan habitually turned into a weapon during Rising Dragon was already designed to support a magnetically contained plasma sheath. The only problem was that his improvised cold-plasma generator existed entirely in his left vambrace.

For now.

"DRAHR. Extend containment path. Left elbow." The armor hesitated only insofar as calculations required it to. Selective magnetic nodes changed polarity along his forearm, creating a succession of overlapping fields between the gauntlet and the existing Plasma Ram containment geometry at his elbow. Sahan watched the plasma distort. A thin ribbon of pale light crawled backward across gold, reaching halfway along his forearm before coherence collapsed and the charged gas dispersed harmlessly into the cold air. Sahan grinned. "Again."

The second attempt reached farther. On the third, the glow around his hand diminished as another appeared around his elbow. That grin widened. "Oh, that's useful."

The inefficiency was obvious. Routing plasma externally across the suit wasted energy, lost density, and placed unnecessary load on magnetic systems never intended to act as a transfer network. But those were engineering problems, and engineering problems had solutions. Dedicated working-gas channels. Distributed Cryoban feeds. Independent electrical excitation at each Plasma Ram node. No need to move the plasma at all; generate it wherever he wanted it.

Gauntlets. Elbows. Knees. Boots.

Hot when he wanted to break armor. Cold when he wanted to break biology.

FIELD TEST // DESIGN REVISION LOG

DISTRIBUTED NONTHERMAL PLASMA GENERATION DEDICATED WORKING-GAS / CRYOBAN CHANNELS INDEPENDENT EXCITATION AT PLASMA RAM NODES STATUS: DEVELOPMENT RECOMMENDED

Sahan committed the concept to Ure'drahr's growing field-test revision log before turning his attention back toward the fungal infestation. Snow was falling more heavily now, collecting over red growth and ruined streets alike. There was another implication. The output he had just used was deliberately vicious. Cold plasma did not mean harmless plasma. At this intensity, Sahan was trying to overwhelm biological material with reactive species and cellular damage while avoiding the bulk heating that conventional plasma would cause.

But it didn't have to be this aggressive.

Reduce the exposure. Reduce the reactive output. Precisely control the dose.

Sahan opened a channel to the Covenant battlenet. <I've improvised a nonthermal plasma generator. I'm running it hot—figuratively—for sterilization against the dead hosts. But if the fungus responds the way it should, lower exposure might kill the infection without killing living tissue. Anyone still infected and breathing, don't write them off yet.>

He closed the channel and looked again at the pale plasma dancing between his golden fingers. Abregado-rae had already given him a surprising number of ideas for a suit he'd finished less than an hour ago. Sahan flexed his hand. "Field test is going great."

TAGS: OPEN
Romul Saxon Tytos Saxon Sindel Krymer Madrona A’Mia​

 

[Naniti]

Bomb blasts to right of them,
Smelt steel to left of them,
A Legion behind them
Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
Boldly they ran and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of hell​

No one knew or cared over much that a Togruta was there. Just another nameless, faceless person trapped on a world being torn apart from two directions. Naniti didn't take it personally even if it was her own that tried so voraciously to end her existence. Blame solved nothing. It was through wit and her strength alone that she would endure these trials. As it had always been. As it was meant to be.

That said, she wouldn't mind the flesh reavers not being so close on her heels with their slimy tendrils and a cloud of spores left in their wake. That too aided the Sith Covenant's agenda, but it really did nothing for Naniti as a person or a Sith warrior. She got enough cardio; really, she didn't need an excuse for more in her life. As things stood, of course, if her cardio wasn't up to snuff then she'd turn into goo for fungus. Pretty good motivation to move swiftly, breathe deeply.

Which was made harder the more Naniti saw too. The earth moving under her feet ( Anet Raine ) gave her cause to push the limit of looking ahead while in motion. Needn't look far either, which was unfortunate. Not so many paths through the maze of twisted steel now that allowed her continued survival.

Admittedly, the steadily cooling air ( Anet Raine ) was not part of the Sith Covenant design, but Naniti found it useful. Once its use was over she'd have to help crush whatever was causing it ( Iris Beroya ), but that was an issue for the future. For the present, a patch of ice here or a large icy outcropping there all provided additional means of sliding or mounting obtacles in the ruins of the factories. It might have even begun to slow the reavers down... which meant she needed to hurry before they stopped moving. They were, after all, part of the Plan.

Might as well make lemonade while lemons rained from the sky.

Speaking of raining down, the disruptor fire drew the eye, but it wasn't her primary target. That was but a short jaunt ahead for her to figure out the real target was off to one-side of where Mandalorians torched plaguestalks. It was unreasonable to assume Feydrik Munin wouldn't see her -- or rather the small army of flesh reavers trailing her -- coming. They weren't creatures built for stealth. Especially when they were busy trying to consume someone -- one violet Torgruta in this case.

Like any good horde rush, it wasn't stealth you relied on, but sheer numbers. Enough reavers that they'd survive the approach weapons fire in order to reach the enemy line. From there? Well, Naniti couldn't control them. They'd try to kill Mandalorian and Sith alike. Naniti's plan was for them to spend most of their time with the metal-packaged-for-preservation Mandalorians, which would give her time to deal with their commander.

All of you who hear me, you are true Lords. In our darkest hour, you still stand. They wish to break you, but we are their destruction made flesh. Stand, move, fight. Do not go quietly into the night, scream your fury and be Sith.

Mercy 's voice slipped into her thoughts as Naniti made to start bounding up the side of the structure where Supercommandos had made an operating base. It was... surprisingly encouraging. Uplifting even. How could Naniti not take it to heart and disappoint the Empress now?

A whirlwind of red appeared over the crest of the roottop as Naniti reached it. The first commando would draw their head back just in time to avoid a sudden end. Well, they weren't Supercommandos just because they were physically imposing. It was enough for her to land on the edge of the building and surge forward with a carpet of ravenous monsters crawling up after her -- provided the Mandalorians didn't do something drastic to stop all of it.

 

[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

Flame collided with ice, the temperature bucked wildly and created atmospheric disturbances as Varin clashed energetically with one of the newcomers. Naami's perception of time slowed as his senses honed in on details necessary to ensure his survival. Though the zabrak was a highly trained and disciplined warrior, sometimes the most critical tact one could take was to listen to instinct.

The smaller of their two direct opponents seemed to have history with Varin and was… monologuing? Naami didn't have time to register much else than that given the other interloper and mount were soon bearing down on the situation like a demolition crew. The zabrak dove toward the two, dodging one slug while the other clipped his shoulder. Thankfully his Kor'ethyr issued gear was solid and the impact merely redirected his tactical roll slightly.

Popping up from the maneuver, the zabrak moved with surprising agility for such a bulky man. A few alarms and alerts popped up on his HUD, which were certainly cause for some concern. Something or more likely someone was attacking his tech with the Force. However, his gear was sturdy and Naami's own hefty constitution within the Force pushed back against meddlesome influence on tech upon his person. Still, it seemed environmental controls were on the fritz and a few of the joints were starting to feel sticky. Thankfully, the second skin and other enhancements built in boosted his already impressive strength immensely so he was able to muscle through the stiffness creeping through some of the armor.

Naami snatched up the thrown device he soon realized was meant to stymy Force use, and snapped the thing shut in his gloved fist. Turning on his heel to pivot momentum once again, Naami ignored the goading of their foes to bark a reply to Varin.

"Heads up Var!"

Without further ado, Naami took aim and fired off a concentrated Force blast at a sloped point in the ceiling where it was clear that just beyond there was no upper level, merely pitched roof. It had become exceedingly clear to the zabrak that this warehouse was a trap and they'd have to use unconventional means if they were to stay on target. Naami would love nothing more than to stay and throw down but that wasn't the mission. He'd have to try making them pay while on the back foot for a while longer.

With a stiff crouch after stowing his saber, Naami Force jumped like some kind of terrifying grasshopper from the floor of the warehouse to the hole he blasted. Growling in frustration at his hampered suit, he commanded away the alerts on his HUD and hauled himself through the breach without delay. He fired off one last sickening blast at the armored beast before moving clear of the hole to make room for his companion.

 

[Astra Sadow]

​

A tall, graying man with square shoulders leaned in closer to a tactical display. "How many vessels do you think the enemy will sacrifice to spare a single transport?" ( Yuri Maji Romul Saxon ) Not all of them had weak shields, but few capital ships would brave atmosphere and smaller vessels couldn't absorb the full brunt of a full-power ion blast. Re-entry alone was prohibitive. Caught between the Tyranny and the ion cannon on the surface would strain the defenses. Perhaps they relied on their barrage on the Tyranny to convince it to focus elsewhere, but from what he could see their Captain ( Ceria Kesyk ) was not one so easily deterred. That might not be the smartest strategic play, but it certainly was a Sith one -- make the enemy bleed and suffer at any cost. "Continue firing. Our orders are no ship leaves this planet. Imagine if this plague gets off world. Think of your own families before lamenting those that may already be dead." Just on the edge of atmosphere was where the transports were most vulnerable. A turbulent boundary that was a barrier for small craft to go higher, and larger to fall lower -- and most importantly short of the bulk of the Mandalorian fleet in orbit.

Of that fleet, the assault continued, and debris rained from above ( Yuri Maji Srina Talon ). Streams of fire and death scorched the skies. Meteors made of material not so easily annihilated through the friction of re-entry. An ironic condition where a capital vessel returned planetside... just not in one piece, or in a final place it might have willingly chosen.

"Stand by your posts." Even at the plating beneath their feet shook with the tremors of gargantuan debris making landfall, their duty was to press the assault. Not even the sharp plinks of lesser debris over a larger area peppering the global exterior of the cannon would keep them from their duty.

Meanwhile, nearby, scientists of multiple disciplines worked feverously to unlock the genetic makeup of the fungus that devoured Abregado-rae ( Madrona A’Mia ). Cold, yes, reports of cryoban weapons had been shared with them from the field. Effective at slowing the rate of development and spread, but no solution on its own. They couldn't simple freeze and then thaw living organisms. Carbonite was good for hibernation, not cryogenic slumber and revival. Some people had such technology, but at a scale necessary to handle an entire planet? Not to mention the buildings, and streets... The forests and streams. No, they needed something that could be as virulent and enduring as Cruentomycena Viscera itself. Even that which had been boosted by the Rampency Serum.

Their work had managed to map the affliction, and certain trials showed great potential. If they just had a little more time they were certain it could be done. But time had become the question. With the Mandalorians drawing near and Leontis Antalis commanding the defense forces outside, they knew time might well be short. The woman in charge of the Lab had even tasked a junior member to see that key material was backed up for the same reasons as Leontis. If they had to evacuate... It couldn't all be for nothing.

A few gasps and even a whimper could be heard when a deep thud rumbled through the lab structures. "Concentrate, people. The shield will hold. It's just debris," the Head of the Lab reassured everyone. Of course, there could be an artillery round or two mixed in with those tremors. No need to worry everyone. They were just Mandalorians.

Somehow, she couldn't make herself believe that line either.

Remember Death.​

"I have many forms," a hollow voice, a deep voice declared as a new wind swept the dust away. Where the explosion had left a small dent in the world stood an armored figure. One who carried an even longer broadsword than that which came before. Metal claws clenched about the hilt of the burning, red blade. "But this one... suits you best." An armored figure of jagged peaks and interlocked plates stood before them. Its helm a perversion and mockery of the Mandalorian T-visor, split vertically three times down the center with the impression of four glowing, blood red eyes.

With the sound of the first bolt fired, the figure crossed the remaining distance in what seemed to be a single bound. The broadsaber started to carve into the side of the tank at the center of their line. Cries began to come from their mouths. Orders, no doubt, but she did not need the time for discourse to rip their precious, armored behemoth open like the can of sardines it was in her grasp. Not even the armored souls within wore enough beskar to deter the blade that severed head from shoulders. When she reached the back of the vehicle, the top half of the tank was launched upward with all the sonic force of a gong being struck.

Her foot slammed back down onto the planet as the other tank's gunner swung the heavy repeater around toward their enemy. "You do not know fear." She hopped up on to the wreck of the first tank, the edge of the broadsaber brought inline with the repeater's stream of bolts. The sheer force of impact could be felt up the extended length of the blade and dug into the webbing of her hands even through the gauntlets that held firm. "You do not know death." The grip twisted in her hands as she stepped over the smoldering ruin beneath her and redirected the bolts toward the ground forces that sought to encircle her. "I will teach you."

The torn surcape that fell from the figure's waist down snapped as it shot into the air, and then fanned outward as she fell. Bolts slammed into her torso at the last second as the gunner managed to wrest the weapon vertically after they realized where their foe had gone. Not enough to stop the thick blade from skewering him where he stood. A loud screech was heard as it pinned the once living in place. It continued to howl trapped within the connected pieces of beskar that formed their cuirass; the wide blade scarcely fit in the neck hole it had claimed.

The sabed was yanked free in one hand, one foot atop the gunner's turret.

Leontis Antalis 's command of the troops had given them something else to shoot at and fear while she had worked too. It was good to see the man concerned with his own vanity had stepped up when it mattered. He had been a competent leader, but there'd been a shadow of doubt whether he could brave a field personally or would loiter in the illusion of safety.

Five degrees left. Not about to wait for permission, the Mandalorians inside the second tank lined up their barrel with Leontis' position.

A single swipe of the broadsaber, and the impressive length clanged against the top of the tank before it slid into the dirt. They fired anyway, but the shell had an equally ignoble end with a plop into the ground barely a quarter of the distance to target.

Soon afterward, the figure stepped down to tear the cover off the hatch. Screams echoed from within as the figure simly stood there. Screams followed by a black fog that energed and began to circle the black knight before it seeped into its armor.

Then the burning, red eyes turned up toward the sky. "Mazo oi tuti." The intensity of what was to come could be felt even this far. It defied the Natural Law. It begged for calamity. It was not wise, but it was good. I am with you, she whispered from afar in Cruelty 's ear. What he had in store for the Mandalorians -- the perversion of their will and the horrors visited upon them for their hubris -- was too much to pass up. If this was what they wanted... Yes, it was worth the risk of the planet being lost to the Undying Lands. It was not right, but it was... fun as Mercy would put it.

The array painted on the wall originally meant to undo and counter the Spirit-Speakers of the Mandalorians and shut down one of their avenues of attack had but one glyph yet to be set. Rather than to weaken, the last sigil painted would strengthen the rift to suit Cruelty's plan. ( He-Who-Walks-Between )

Laughter echoed from within the living armor as it stood there. Even as Mandalorians unleashed bolts against it, even as the pain of the sanctity of the armor being breeched could be felt, she could not help but laugh. It was a transfer of energy either way. To it. From it. Energy to affect the boundary of space, time, and dimension. Let it grow wider. Let the hunger rule! The desire burned brightly in her soul. Perhaps it even carried across the link to Mercy , Srina Talon , Madrona A’Mia , Revna Marr , and so many others connected in the telepathic link. An undying, unquenchable thirst. Consume them all.

Glareshades | Clothing | Jacket | Vest | Tie | Gauntlets | Belt | Boots | Broadsaber
Holdout Blaster | CommLink | Dagger | A'Mia Circlet | Alchemical Ingredients
For the sake of Resistance, each section of the Armor has the same Resistences as the equipment linked here.​

 

[Vrirrig Awaud]

HA’RANGIR’S CHOSEN
ENCORE

The burn didn't hold.

Mid-arc behind the concrete pillar, the jetpack coughed. Vrirrig felt the drop in his teeth before his HUD caught the pressure fault; invisible fingers pinching the thruster's throat.

The glop grenade never found the floor. A muffled snap behind him, the sharp whistle of an arrow cutting through smog, and the canister ruptured early — blooming into an inert wash of gray adhesive that caught nothing but empty air.

Two of them.

His boots hit the steel grating hard, knees taking the brunt of an unassisted landing. He didn't waste breath cursing the stalled engine. He rolled with the momentum, coming up low against a rusted hydraulic press just as the factory floor went dead quiet behind him.

Then came the scream of sheared metal.

Through the grit-scratched corner of his visor, Vrirrig saw the shadow of the Dark Lord, or whatever form he decided to take, in a movement that’s way more than simply inhumane. Diamond plates peeled away from the armor, congealing into a fan of silver-gray daggers, with the unmistakable look of beskar. Wretched monstrosity.

They tore through the smog in a blur.

Vrirrig threw his weight sideways into the factory's sunken conveyor line. The first two blades slammed into the concrete where his head had been a heartbeat prior, punching clean through rebar like paper. The third caught the rim of his shoulder pauldron — beskar meeting beskar in a vicious shower of white sparks that numbed his left arm to the collarbone and spun him into the dirt trench.

His slugthrower was already up before he stopped sliding, deeper into the factory.

His HUD swung, skipping Carnifex toward the blind angle where the arrow had come from, thermals scanning the empty rafters for the ghost playing games with his fuel lines. One shot, almost blind, followed by the reload as he disappeared deeper into the factory.

One false god at a time.​

Allyson Locke | Darth Carnifex​

​

 

[Zavar Kelborn]

Double Tap Deez Nuts​

The deck of the Kar'ta Kelborn shuddered violently as heavy particle fire struck their forward shields, blinding flashes of energy washing across the viewport. Zavar gripped the edge of the holotable, his boots locked firmly to the plating. Alarms wailed a sharp, rhythmic rhythm across the bridge, but his gaze never wavered from the corrupted cruiser barreling straight for their prow.

Then, the void erupted in crimson and emerald.

Out of the flank of the engagement, the warships of Clan Fett dropped into realspace like plunging daggers.

<"Alor Kelborn, this is Alor Fett - We have come to honor our promise and join you in the fray.">

Seeing the matriarch raise a fist against the crimson mark on her chestplate brought a grim, fierce smirk beneath Zavar's visor. He struck his own chest in reciprocal salute.

<Your timing is impeccable, Alor Fett,> Zavar replied, his voice ringing with renewed vigor over the secure channel. <Let us carve out their rot together. Oya!>

Before the two lead vessels could grind each other into scrap, Clan Fett's heavy turbolasers tore into the rear of The Whispering Matron. The traitors had overextended, funneling raw power to their frontal offensive, leaving their stern bare. A brilliant cascade of secondary explosions bloomed across the void as the enemy cruiser's sublight engines ruptured into twisted, glowing slag.

Yet Raukai was not submitting to the black.

Console sensors screamed a sudden spike in localized gravity. Instead of drifting helplessly, the dying cruiser had diverted all residual reactor energy into its tractor beam emitters. Invisible tethers lashed out, attempting to violently lock onto the Kar'ta Kelborn and drag Zavar's warship down with the burning hulk.

"Alor! Tractor locks detected!" the tactical officer barked over the din of klaxons.

<Let them pull,> Zavar ordered coldly, his hand moving to the hilt of his weapon. <Reverse thrusters just enough to control the drift, align the boarding tubes, and prime all point-defense batteries on their tractor projectors. They want us close? We'll give them a boarding party.>​

Careena Fett | Raukai Ironstone​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

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

The weave nourished and fed him from various different battles along the surface, not only within the factory region that seemed to have been taken control of, but over every being connected within it over the course of the entire battle. Every being connected through the telepathic link and those around them. The words that the little Jedi spat at him were merely just words. The sounds of struggle and misery that traveled along the weave funneled within his body. The small stone came flying towards him only for his gaze to divert its path right into the wall.

His armor flickered for but a second before regaining control over the vast spread that the small Jedi was attempting to take control. It was indeed a nice try. But even powerful force users tend to spread themselves thin with vast uses of the force.

Even the attempt of Dun moch had simply rolled right off of him.

Then the larger one moved. Throwing a small object towards them, he felt the connection to the force shudder around him a shudder that promptly ceased after Naami took ahold of the object. A sensation he was used to by now, not allowing panic to overtake him like the first time it had happened. Then came the small volley of slugs from the larger individual. With blinding speed Varin drew his Black Blade and with a swift strike, sharpened telekinetic winds fired off towards the slugs bisecting them and canceling their momentum.

Varin was silent as Naami blew a hole within the roof above them leading towards the outside and away from the various traps that laid in wait for them. Naami was the first to head up before Varin leapt, the smoldering cloak taking the form of wings that propelled him through the hole behind him and landing beside Naamino.

Breaching the roof he got a good look of the carnage around them. But, instead of the feel of defeat, Varin felt a rush for challenge. Sith forces struggling to move forward. Another explosion had gone off allowing Varin to quickly look towards it. It’s flame absorbing into his body, though dampened by the cold around them. Fuel was still fuel. The Weave as well kept him nourished as he then looked at the massive tower for them to scale towards the top. Varin looked at Naami then back at the tower before them. His legs flexed sending him upwards to the tower, his clawed gauntlets digging into the mortar as he pulled his body forth for another leap. Naamino in his own strength keeping up as well as the quickly scaled the building. Fighters flew past them in blurs as their battles continued. Wind whipped around them. Then, the smoldering cloak came to life. Tendrils of smoke becoming corporeal and digging into the tower allowing him to climb more effectively.

The top had come to view, and they vaulted onto the platform. Once again taking in the sight of battle before them. He could see the boundary line of frost around them. Varin activated his comms after Anet contacted him.

“In position. Let it Raine.”

A slight smirk came to his lips at the tiny pun. His comms channel switched then to the Nagai warrior sitting comfortably from the destruction, detonator ready.

“Ignition.”

The word came simply from his lips. Almost without delay, multiple bombs planted within the factory sector exploded with great violence, sending fireballs and flame columns within the sky leveling most building to simply piles of molten rubble. Frost upon the ground gradually melted from the destruction of such explosives and Varin once again took hold of it all, absorbing the newly made destruction. The power surged within his body. No matter how much control anyone could have, chaos would always be right around the corner.

Naamino Zuukamano | Korar Murrak | Braze | Anet Raine​

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Tags: Cruelty Meliant Ceria Kesyk

He-Who-Walks-Between

Madrona A’Mia Darth Strosius

All of you who hear me, you are true Lords. In our darkest hour, you still stand. They wish to break you, but we are their destruction made flesh. Stand, move, fight. Do not go quietly into the night, scream your fury and be Sith.

Lina did so enjoy a riveting speech, though it most certainly was not for her. With a snap she severed her link to the network, finding her own, to the two people that truly mattered, to the people who needed to know she was there, that they were not alone.

He even thought He heard Mercy Mercy in the back of His mind before one of His legs gave out and He had to kneel to catch Himself, the whole world spinning and making His vision run wild with spots as He forced another cough down with a grunt. His teeth ached. His whole being ached. But most importantly, He was still one of the few things between A'Mia and the Mandalorians which were rapidly descending upon them. Darth Strosius clenched His fangs together and muttered a curse under His breath.

Anger simmered in her veins as she drew on the rift, the gaping hole in the fabric of reality that granted her access to where her true power lay, and she fed it to them, threading it down the line to reinforce the two who held her heart.

<<Dari j'us minti ani zinoti ri itita iw ani qo, ki aki? Titsû mus kûrsosûti anim.>>

then Kade charged toward the Thing which called itself Cruelty, swinging his beskad as he did to lop its head from its shoulders unless one of them stopped him.

An invisible snare made to close itself around the wrist of that hand which held the beskad. Painless but firm. Strong enough to suddenly arrest its motion."Do you think we're finished here?" There came that hideous laugh again, as Meliant slowly rose from among the desolation of the bridge, one hand outstretched again.

Lina clicked her tongue in annoyance, her obsidian gaze lifting the creature made of smoke.

“Do stop playing with your food.” She said in an almost bored tone.

She shifted before Cruelty, turning her back on the duel. Her hand reached down to collect the blood trailing down his cheek, returning his warm smile.

"Together we can do it," he murmured up at her. "If we work together, we can rip it open even wider. That one already created a path, we can take advantage of it... and give her entry."

“Then let us do that, hmm?”

Nails dug into her now bloodied hand, the two offerings congealing in her palm before the staff shifted hands, runes glowing instantly with the sacrifice, the air thrummed as Lina extended a hand towards the graspborn he cradled, turning her palm towards the sky she snapped it into a fist and pulled upwards, tearing the creatures heart from its chest.

Wraithspire sang as she brought it down on the bridge floor, the vibrations rippling beyond this plane and into the next. Lina saw the rift in her mind's eye, she felt its pull as she reached for the edges. It tore like fabric beneath their combined will, wider and wider with fraying edges, and so did the rift between her body and her soul as Lina became two.

One made of shadow and one made of flesh.

And her existence became pain.

 

[Braze]

​

Tags: Kjartan Hammer-Hand Careena Fett Zavar Kelborn Vrirrig Awaud He-Who-Walks-Between Tytos Saxon Gel Karn Feydrik Munin Romul Saxon


Battle Buddy: Korar Murrak


Foes: Varin Mortifer Naamino Zuukamano

FIELD ARSENAL ☰ ACCESS EQUIPMENT RECORD

ACTIVE LOADOUT
☑ Equipped / At Hand • ▣ Stored • ■ Used / Destroyed​

---

01 // ⚙ DROIDS

#01-A // COMPANIONS	STATUS
G.I.Z.M.O.
G.I.D.G.I.T.

#01-B // BATTLE DROIDS	STATUS
B.L.A.S.T.A. MF-B • MF-BO • MF-F • MF-FB​
C.A.T.C.H. BG-MkI • CES-G • GLMMkI​
S.P.A.R.K.

02 // ⚔ LIGHTSABERS & MELEE

#02-A // LIGHTSABERS	STATUS	#02-B // CRYSTALS	STATUS
Calypso — Hand-and-a-Half / Board Saber		Amplification
Corsage — Dueling Foil / Blaster		Frostheart
Mysterious Lightsaber		Mindshatter
Requiem — Light Foil		Phantom Ghostfire
Nightshade — Kunai Shoto	☑	Serenity's Touch
Echos of Eternity		Tiger's Fang
Resurgence — Two-Handed Crossguard		Tyrian Crystal
Saber-Claws Gauntlet — Right Arm	☑	Entropite	☑
Sentry — Parrying Dagger		Mestare
Twilight — Polearm		Obscura Crystal
Whirlwind — Chain Kama		Starfall Crystal
Hot 'n' Heavy Compensator
Troublemaker's Trickblade
Retribution — Lightsaber Lightwhip
The Voice of the Wind — Krysteel Ninjato
The Night Saber
Training Lightsaber	☑

#02-C // MELEE / UTILITY	STATUS
Vulptex Fang Utility Survival Knife	☑

03 // ⬢ ARMOR & COMBAT SYSTEMS

#03-A // ITEM	STATUS
Phoenix Fire Armor V2.0	☑
Anti-Toxin Face Mask
Utility Belt	☑
Feilong Repulsor ×2	☑
Vixen's Vambrace ×1 — Left Arm	☑
Phantom Mist Projectors	☑
Saberbreaker Gauntlets ×2	☑
Saberbreaker Shin Guards / Heel Blades ×2	☑
Space Wizard Pattern Boots ×2	☑
Protective Cloak ×1	☑
Protective Poncho
Braze's Dueling Cape
Too Hot to Handle — Desert PPE

#03-B // INTEGRATED VAMBRACE TOOLS​

Flame Projector	☑
Plasma Cutter / Breaching Tool	☑
Grappling Line	☑

04 // ◇ ACCESSORIES & JEWELRY

#04 // ITEM	STATUS
BCA Solid State Hologram Tool Band
Eshan Charms ×3
Iroai Amulate
Lightveil Circlet ×1	☑
Nite Night Nails	☑
Sunfire Signet / Compass Ring ×1	☑
Carved Kyberite Pendant
Echani Silver Whistle
Seer Stone
Jedi Crusader Pendant ×1	☑
Obscura Oculi — Cloak Charm ×1	☑

05 // ⌖ RANGED WEAPONS & ORDNANCE

#05-A // ATTACHMENTS Quiver Trigger • I.S.P.Y. Scope • H.A.R.M. Shroud​

#05-B // WEAPON	STATUS
Chill Out Rifle ×1	☑
Phantom — Marksman Lightsaber Rifle
Chiru Tranquilizer Rifle
Czerka Ranged Ion Blaster — C.R.I.B.
G.O.O. Gun

#05-C // THROWABLES & ORDNANCE​

DEVICE	LOAD	USED	LEFT	STATUS
TG-02 Trihexalon Grenade	3	0	3	☑
Thermal Detonators	5	0	5	☑
C-22 Fragmentation Grenades	5	0	5	☑
G-20 Glop Grenades	5	0	5	☑
WW-41 CryoBan Grenades	5	0	5	☑
Concussion-EMP-Sonic Grenade	3	0	3	☑
Glimmergas Grenade	3	0	3	☑
Blackout Grenade	3	0	3	☑
E.G.G.S.	—	0	—
Dye Egg	—	0	—
Explosive Egg	—	0	—
Psych Egg	—	0	—
Sabotage Egg	—	0	—
Smoke Egg	—	0	—
BA-K177 Kamino Saberdart	—	0	—
Telescopic Stun Grenade Staff	—	0	—
Serenity Flashbang Incense	—	0	—

06 // ✚ MEDICAL, CHEMICAL & CONSUMABLES

ITEM	LOAD	USED	LEFT	STATUS
Aspha Serum	5	0	5	☑
Bota M9-A2 Berries	3	0	3	☑
Trauma Spray	3	0	3	☑
TSS-FAK First Aid Kit	1	0	1	☑
Thermite	5 lbs	0 lbs	5 lbs	☑
Essence of Zeltros DUST Compact	—	0	—
FSP Besh — Advanced Force Suppression Drug	—	0	—
Reanimation Serum Aurek	2	0	2	☑
S.I.N. Devaronian Blood Poison Nail Polish	—	0	—
TS-N Healing Serum	—	0	—
Trauma Care Package	—	0	—
Trauma Kit	—	0	—

07 // ✦ VEHICLES & STARCRAFT

#07-A // STARCRAFT	#07-B // VEHICLE / SYSTEM
Mud Duck — Payday-Class Light Frigate • Werlaara Stealth Suite	Deluxe W.A.R. T.O.R.T.L.E. • Werlaara Stealth Suite
Ashwing — Starfighter Interceptor • Werlaara Stealth Suite
Phantomray Stealth Assault Interceptor • Werlaara Stealth Suite

08 // ▣ MISCELLANEOUS & ARCHIVE

#08 // ITEM	STATUS
RIP-Cell — Power Cell	☑
Survival Kit
Vixen's Vault
A Study in Opposition: The Devouring, Feed Not the Mirror
The Study of the Blade
The Silent Bloom: A Guide to the Secret Language of Flowers
Lock 'n' Shock™ ×4	☑

---

PREPARED IS A RELATIVE TERM.​

Naami snatched up the thrown device he soon realized was meant to stymy Force use, and snapped the thing shut in his gloved fist. Turning on his heel to pivot momentum once again, Naami ignored the goading of their foes to bark a reply to Varin.

"Heads up Var!"

Braze caught sight of Naamino Zuukamano plucking up the small device that Korar Murrak had thrown, and moved with sudden yet terrifying speed. He vanished from sight before appearing right ahead of Naamino cutting him off at the 'exit' by simply being there before he could reach much farther beyond it.

A set of three Saber-Claws ignited in a glacial blue hue, their blades colored by the Entropite crystal, aimed toward the lad's throat.

A gentle tsk accompanied the vicious close-quarters attack as Braze narrowed inward with a blend of Ataru and Juyo-like intensity. A second attack lashed downward in a sharp arc, seeking to give him little room or space to think as Braze closed the distance with ferocious attack after attack after attack. It was like someone chiding an errant child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"That doesn't belong to you."

The small object he'd picked up was subjected to a sudden wrenching burst of Telekinesis, as Braze saught to rip it free from his grasp, intent on not allowing him to keep hold of the keepsake.

Braze had trained his reserves and stamina far beyond what was typically considered sane, learning to draw upon the Force with practiced economy. What might have exhausted a Master practitioner barely disturbed his rhythm or scratched the surface of his conditioning. He had fought Varin before, and what changes that were present in the man, didn't impress him.

The detonation command found little left willing to answer it. Braze's Mechu-deru had already bled through the surrounding mechanical systems, leaving electronic detonators and firing circuits inert. If they wanted something easy, they should have picked another battlefield. Braze had no intention of being accommodating.

 

[Chomba Womba]

​

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

"Pooter! I.... Pooter. I. Can't. Keep. Spinningggggggggggg!" Chomba called out after what he assumed must be a galactic record in flying so boldly. Only he could champion a vessel this amazingly. As Chomba continued to spin, he could feel the vision begin to darken and his limbs weakening. The masterful defence could not hold out any longer. Chomba needed to level out and control himself a little bit as things were definitely getting a little too hairy for the poor Chomba.

"Pooter! Chomba must have gotten supa far with da ship doing that. Huh, Pooter?" Chomba waited for there to be some noise from the navicomputer. "Pooter must have finished the course for us to jump straight to hyperdrive. Chomba swears he was doing that for like a good hour, maybe two!" Chomba stated proudly as he made sure that there were no immediate threats around him before turning to look at the navicomputer, deciding that he had spoken long enough before actually checking it instead of hoping that the navicomputer would suddenly learn to speak back to him.

When Chomba looked at the time left to chart the course, only a handful of seconds had passed. There was still more than nine minutes till the navicomputer was going to be ready. Even worse, the navicomputer was saying that Chomba was basically in the same spot that he started spinning at. Chomba had made no forward momentum, basically he spun wildly in a circle and ended up back where he was. The short man stared at the navicomputer, his brain attempting to understand all the information that was been given to him. That he had made no progress and there was still far too much time left before he could jump right out of there.

One conclusion finally clicked in his mind.

"Pooter... Pooter are you telling Chomba that Chomba went so fast, so dangerously fast, that Chomba did a lap around the galaxy?" Chomba gasped, he was the greatest smuggler in the galaxy, Chomba was a living legend and here was the evidence. "Chomba can't believe it. But Chomba is master pilot." Breathing in deeply, "Chomba can get Starship outta here, Chomba did record lap around galaxy. Chomba can do anything!" Chomba chanted to himself as he took the controls of the ship once again.

Driving the starship forward, Chomba moved a little too aggressive and the whole ship shut down. Chomba looked around. "Dank ferrik! Engines stalled again. Chomba stuck and can't even do spinning shield..." Chomba sighed, taking a moment to look around and seeing the chaos. The ships crashing, shooting one another to fiery deaths. Capital shields taking massive damage. It was all a lot to take in.

"Chomba can't do spinning shield..." Chomba slowly stated, "Chomba can't fly." His brain started to piece things together as he blinked. "Chomba stuck in space. Ships crashing and burning." Chomba mentioned in a monotone voice.

Then another click in his head, "CHOMBA GUNNA DIEEEEEEE! CHOMBA GREATEST SMUGGLER PILOT OF ALL TIME! CHOMBA GUNNA DIE CAUSE OF POOTER!!! POOTER TURN BACK ON!" Chomba started slapping around the controls, desperately trying to hit anything and everything to get the ship back online as he began to realise how much of a deadly situation he was in with the engines stalling. "CHOMBA CANNOT SPIN AROUND GALAXY AGAIN! CHOMBA DOOMED! CHOMBA NEED POOTER!!!" Chomba shrieked as he wailed around the ship trying anything to get the ship back into some kind of working order so he could get out of the system.

 

[Casimir Thorne]

WEARING: xxx | WEAPON: x | x | ALLIES: Efret Farr | ENEMIES: Vreegan Fett​

Efret's hand closed around his arm, and Casimir stopped.

No, I can't.

There was nothing complicated about the answer. The Echani turned toward her, amber eyes settling on Efret as the fires burned behind them. He had noticed the hesitation long before she finally stopped. Every shortened stride, every subtle change in posture, and every moment she had lingered behind him had spoken in a language Casimir understood almost as readily as the one they had built together. He had simply mistaken what she was telling him.

He understood now. Whatever artifacts they had come to find did not matter enough for this.

Casimir turned his arm beneath her hand until his palm met hers. His fingers closed around it, firm but gentle, and the tension left his shoulders as his head inclined slightly toward her. There was no disappointment in the gesture and no demand that she explain herself. Their language had never required every thought to be spelled out before it could be understood.

Then we don't.

His thumb pressed once against the back of her hand before his fingers shifted against hers.

Together.

The first rocket struck before he could do anything else.

Stone erupted beside them, and Casimir moved on instinct. His hand tore free from Efret's as the Force answered him, throwing his body away from the shattered cover while another detonation ripped through the place they had occupied. Heat washed across his back as dirt and fragments of duracrete filled the air, turning the smoke around the pyres into an impenetrable haze. A third explosion followed somewhere ahead, then another behind, the uneven timing making the pattern impossible to anticipate.

Casimir hit the ground on one shoulder and rolled with the momentum, coming up with his lightsaber already in hand. The crimson blade snapped to life just as another rocket buried itself nearby, but he did not wait for the explosion. The Force gathered around him as Casimir drove his free hand outward, catching the worst of the blast against a barrier that buckled beneath the impact. Fire rolled around its edges while shrapnel screamed past him, and the concussion forced his boots backward through the dirt.

His attention immediately searched through the debris for Efret before his eyes went upward.

A figure descended through the smoke on a jetpack, rifle held tightly against his shoulder. The armor was enough to identify the Mandalorian before Casimir needed anything more. His saber remained low beside his leg rather than rising into a defensive guard as he followed the warrior's descent. Distance favored their attacker, and remaining where he stood would only give the Mandalorian another opportunity to fill the ground around them with explosives.

"Frack."

Casimir shifted his weight, preparing to close the distance.

Then something changed.

The sensation struck him so suddenly that the battle seemed to fall away around him. Fires continued to burn across the ritual grounds, the plague crawled through corrupted earth, and engines howled somewhere above the smoke. The Mandalorian was still descending toward them with a rifle trained upon their position, but for one impossible moment none of it held Casimir's attention.

Something had changed in the Force.

It was deeper than the darkness saturating the ritual grounds and more profound than anything the Sith had unleashed upon Abregado-Rae. Something vast and unnatural had wounded the boundary between places that were never meant to touch, and Casimir had experienced enough of what waited beyond that boundary to recognize its presence.

The Netherworld.

His saber lowered as his heart slammed hard against his ribs. Casimir turned toward the disturbance, and twenty years of searching seemed to collapse into that single moment.

He had followed rumors that became nothing, smugglers who swore they knew something until credits changed hands, and relics that promised answers only to deliver more questions. Forgotten archives, forbidden knowledge, and every trail that might have carried the faintest trace of Kaelis had been enough to keep him moving. Casimir had never accepted that his sister was gone because there had always been somewhere else to look.

Now somewhere else had become somewhere beyond.

There was no voice calling to him from the Netherworld and no familiar presence reaching through the Force. Nothing promised that Kaelis waited beyond the rupture or that crossing whatever boundary had been torn open would bring Casimir any closer to finding her.

There was only the possibility that she might be there.

After twenty years, possibility was enough to make Casimir take a step before he caught himself.

His fingers tightened around the hilt of his saber as his attention returned to Efret. Moments ago she had reached for him because she could go no farther, and Casimir had understood. There had been no hesitation in his answer. Whatever waited beyond the ritual grounds, whatever relic had brought them this far, he had been willing to abandon it rather than force her another step through the horror surrounding them.

Now the galaxy had placed something infinitely more difficult before him.

The Mandalorian was still descending through the smoke, armed and intent upon killing them. Efret remained beside him, surrounded by the very horror that had finally pushed her beyond what she could endure. Yet somewhere beyond the veil was the first place Casimir had not searched for the sister he had refused to surrender for nearly twenty years.

For all that time, Casimir had believed there was nothing in the galaxy that could make him stop looking for Kaelis. As his gaze moved from Efret toward the wound torn through reality, he realized he had never considered what finding his sister might demand of him.

For the first time in twenty years, Casimir did not know which way to go.

 

[Calyx Sundrift]

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

The sick golden gaze looked past Anet as she contacted Mortifer. Distant, fixed on something that wasn't there. The misery and madness that the Sith legacy whispered.

His amulet protected him from the worst of it. The archaic Dark-side boon was the only thing separating his wavering sanity from their amalgamated agony.

In that tormented clutter, Calyx dug out the one voice he wanted to hear clearly. That of the woman who'd moved them to this forsaken place. The raving lunatic whose crusade sought to wipe out entire civilizations.

The Empress, whose pride made his anger beat in rhythm with his heart.

And whose words, somehow, made him come alive. Glorying in the Dark side.

All of you who hear me, you are true Lords. In our darkest hour, you still stand. They wish to break you, but we are their destruction made flesh. Stand, move, fight. Do not go quietly into the night, scream your fury and be Sith

True Lords.

He had a hand in burning this world, drowned himself in the Dark side — there was no going back. He was Sith. Now and forevermore.

Imperceptibly, he murmured, "You will be destroyed, Mercy. I promise you that." He let out a breath. "But not now." First, they had to fight, to survive and preserve what these delusions had risked. Then he would brood on vengeance.

She sighed, looking back at Calyx with a self-satisfied smile.

"I can think of better ways to bide our time, hm? I haven't heard from those supercommandoes in a minute... I mean, we could go find their commander, but honestly. If they seem content to hide in their hole, why should we interrupt?"

Anet drew his attention back.

His mouth was set in a hard line, his eye flashing with disdain. That smile of hers, it made him furious. Still, he nodded. "We'll let the fires take them."

He called his helmet back to his hand with a slight gesture. The thing was slick with bloody spores, but he gave it no thought.

The helmet slid back over the face that could no longer muster smiles.

Anet led the way, taking them to a vantage point through connecting ladders and walkways. Outside, the sky was still ablaze with laserfire, fighters, and creatures of clotted flesh. The cold of cryobombs collided against the heat of the fires. It rained burning debris and spores, and the black smoke blotted out the last natural sunlight that could have reached them.

But the despair he'd felt, the grief that had made him weep, had scattered before the rage that now barricaded his mind. It was the fury that had been building within him ever since Kessel. It had finally boiled free. Unleashed at last.

The top had come to view, and they vaulted onto the platform. Once again taking in the sight of battle before them. He could see the boundary line of frost around them. Varin activated his comms after Anet contacted him.

"In position. Let it Raine."

A slight smirk came to his lips at the tiny pun. His comms channel switched then to the Nagai warrior sitting comfortably from the destruction, detonator ready.

"Ignition."

The cascade of explosions was the key needed to set off the terror their sabotage had fostered.

The world rocked.

The metal screeched under strain.

Then the ground tore open.

And everything, as far as his eye could see, went up in an inferno that blazed brighter than the sun.

 

[Feydrik Munin]

​

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

Naniti

Feydrik and his compatriots didn't waste any time- Disruptor rounds skirted along the rooftop, the beasts the Sith carried with her meeting their own swift ends. Some Mandalorians were unfortunately lost in the scuffle and initial chaos of the engagement, but more were routed to Feydrik's position. Feydrik rolled his cloak off of his shoulders, lifted his Disruptor rifle-

And fired the weapon until it was empty right at the woman on the edge of the rooftop. She was not a Mandalorian, so that was enough of a reason for him to engage her. He walked forward as he fired his weapon, closing the gap while his Supercommandos and other Mandalorians attempted to repel her beastly assault. The Sith was his to deal with, alone or not. He didn't say anything, he didn't hesitate. He went straight for the kill, the engagement. As soon as the Sith was spotted and perched on the edge of the roof, he opened fire. No discussion, no identifying, nothing.

The Disruptor was deadly, and even viciously so to even a Jedi. The only downside was it's limited ammo capacity and range- but with the distance the two of them were at, only one was a concern. His shots were center mass and tightly-grouped. He was an expert in his field, and the targeting matrix on his HUD allowed him to stay on target even admist all the... unpleasantry of combat. The weapon went off, six shots directly at the Sith who jumped up. He walked forward as he fired, the chaotic return fire of his own troops making it hard to tell if his rounds found purchase or not at the moment.

​

 

[Sindel Krymer]

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

| Location | Planetside, Abregado-Rae​

| Objective | Sample Collection​

Sindel turned as the containers dropped around them. He clicked his comm in a sequence, a headsup to the Mandalorians he was with - an unspoken signal. They paused their fire as they activated their jetpacks, becoming airborne as they kept their weapons trained on the disoriented Sith. The sounds of battle dampened around Sindel, his helmet muffling and filtering out all the noise as he tapped a few buttons on his vambrace. Just like Sindel, the Sith would likely notice that these containers also seemed to emanate a similar force nullifying bubble around each of them.​

​

The crates hissed before heavy doors dropped, revealing deep grooved scratch marks upon its solid durasteel surface. A loud series of chittering could be heard emanating from the shadows of the large containers, followed by loud screeching. The Mandalorian scientist tapped a few more keys as the speakers in his helmet began to emulate a series of screeches, the sounds undulating as it was met with several frenzied chitters. The sounds that Sindel were emulating were that of a Yossuban Queen - more specifically the cry it made when it was hungry. ​

​

Long spidery legs reached out, tipped in vicious claws as several large Yossuban drones began to crawl out from their containment cages, their frenzied chitters and screeches filling the air, harsh like grating metal. Their grotesque forms emerged, before each letting out a loud hiss, confused by their lack of being able to telepathically link with the unseen Queen. Their heads twitched as they began to observe their foreign surroundings, only snapping to attention as Sindel emulated another recorded cry - this time the sound it made when in distress.​

​

Their view of the world was entirely in gray, but their focus was immediately drawn to Revna Marr , the midichlorians on her painting her like a bright red target in their vision. They snarled as their maws began to gnash, hungry for a taste of a proper meal. They each screamed loudly, the overlapping screeches creating a horrendous and headsplitting din - a tactic the spiders used to disorient and debilitate their prey. They began to rush the Sith from all angles with gnashing fangs and claws, one of them even attempting to ensnare her with webbing shot from its abdomen. ​

​

To the Mandalorians it was a mere matter of tuning it out using their helmets, as well as keeping their distance from the creatures. But now the Sith had to contend with several large man eating spiders now locked onto her and the airborne Mandalorians around her opening fire whenever they saw the opportunity. Sindel did not grace the Sith with sticking around as the most logical solution for him was to make his way back to his dropship, taking advantage of the reprieve the Sith gave him by not attacking him. She could try to pursue him, but it would be at great peril to herself to try and strike him down while trying to avoid the Yossuban drones and his escort.​

​

Revna Marr

 

[Careena Fett]

C a r e e n a .F e t t

| Location | Space, Abregado-Rae​

​

Careena vanished from the holographic projector on Zavar's side, the woman quickly turning to the captain as she rested a hand on their shoulder,​

​

<"The bridge is yours once more brother. I leave it in your capable hands.">​

​

The captain offered a nod <"As you command my Alor.">​

​

Careena offered them a nod, confident in their ability as she turned away to join her warriors. The captain turned back to his crew as he sat himself in the command seat. Even now that the enemy was dead in the water without their engines, there were still a few things to take care of as The Whispering Matron and the Kar'ta Kelborn were now engaged in a deadlock, preparing for boarding actions. <"Target their point defenses. We will give the Alor an opening.">​

​

Once more turrets pivoted to take aim and acquire their firing solutions before they began to open fire.​

​

Careena strode through the corridors of the destroyer, Mandalorians rushing ahead and past her to their stations as they prepared for their own boarding action. She reached the hangar as Mandalorians loaded themselves into dropships, whilst others mounted their Basilisk War Droids. Careena herself made her way over to her own Dha'Prudii, the droid lowering itself as she clambered on before moving to its full height. She felt herself back in its familiar saddle, reaching forward as she pat its 'neck' as if it were a living creature, the droid making a shuddering motion before responding with an indecipherable series of shrill tones back at her.​

​

<"To battle my kin. Let the enemy know our wrath and regret crossing blades with us!">​

​

The assembled Mandalorians, a combination of varying clans amongst her own roared their approval, different in name and ways, but the same people nonetheless. She gave a nod as she gripped onto Dha'Prudii, the droid lumbering into position as several dropships fired up their engines. The hangar doors opened as Careena led the charge into the deep black of space, her droid passing through the protective shield and into the void, followed closely by dozens of Basilisk war droids, transports and fighters as they descended upon the Whispering Matron.​

​

They streaked across the closing gap between vessels, taking care to avoid incoming point defense fire wherever possible, hopefully softened by the Captain's action of targeting their defenses. It would not be long before Careena and her warriors descended upon Raukai's ship, droids beginning to carve new breaches into the hull as transport bay doors opened to allow the Mandalorian warriors within to disperse and make their way to any openings already available.​

​

Zavar Kelborn | Raukai Ironstone​

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