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

[Ceria Kesyk]

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

OOC: Yuri Maji's writer has asked me to NPC some actions in my post.​

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 overbridge had taken extensive damage. All behind her, beyond the shield that separated them, were rows of destroyed substations and a host of dead or dying crew, among fewer of the dead Mandalorians who poured onto the ship.

Kesyk’s attention, however, was once again firmly locked onto her command console and the tactical feeds steadily coming her way. It wasn’t by grace that the Tyranny remained functional. More than half a million souls crewed the Super Star Destroyer. Whether they were gunners or technicians, substation officers or the many ensigns, or simply custodians and other task handlers. It was a veritable city, all functioning together as a military machine.

That didn’t mean her reduced bridge officers didn’t present a headache of their own. The top-down command was less efficient. While the various other officers and leaders across the ship knew how to do their job and were more than capable of independent action, they were still accustomed to the chain. The Vice Admiral would note that. Future improvements for later.

For now. The battle.

The Tyranny’s guns continued to destroy civilian ships as they attempted to rise out of the atmosphere. Whether that included the evacuation safeguarded by Romul remained to be seen. Those reports were still being digested by analysts several decks away. What she didn’t understand was why the enemy was sacrificing so much for these worthless people! Why take on the role of savior? It diminished their advantages… More importantly, it took them away from her. She wanted their commitment. She needed it.

The rest of the warship’s attention, much like the bulk of Tyrant Squadron itself, was firmly placed on the Mandalorian armada.

“Ma’am--"

“I know!” Kesyk snapped back.

She was frustrated.

It appeared the three battlegroups had deployed more tactical flexibility than she initially expected. However, it wasn’t frustrating in a sense of disadvantage. Kesyk wished that her opponent wasn’t so indecisive.

‘Why can’t you commit as I do?!’ She thought - and watched as the Mandalorian ships refocused significant fire from the Tyranny to address her flanking maneuver.

She hadn’t even paid much attention to their flak bombardment, which tore through a few wings before the other flight leaders got the memo.

And a few ships, mostly fast frigates and a single Tenacious-class, were caught off guard by the enveloping feint. The rest of Tyrant Squadron wasn’t as rash or naive, however. They adjusted their positions to maintain a slugging match. Bombarded here. Damage there. But otherwise the integrity of her attacking line remained intact.

If the enemy wanted to split their attention, or change their mind, then so be it. She would not make the same choice. The Tyranny had guns aplenty to focus on two tasks at once with overwhelming firepower. Even while taking a punishment of its own.

“Ma’am!” It was a shrill shriek.

“What?!” Kesyk screamed back.

It was only then that she looked over her shoulder.

The 30 kilogram baradium bomb in his backpack capable of obliterating the entire bridge exploded.

All became heat and blinding light.

The bubble bulged with the explosion, with her focus split in so many ways it was not enough to contain it. Heat rippled from it, searing her face as it washed over her, adding to the cacophony of pain she already felt.

Amber eyes went wide with panic. She wasn’t sure if the shield would contain such a blast. So her mood settled on a deep, spiteful anger at the thought of dying to such an unspirited opponent.

The light fizzled out of existence, and the shield rippled. She wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, only that the explosion seemed partially contained. Both Cruelty and the unknown woman appeared alive, maybe not well, but alive. The Emperor, however… Amoun… Meliant.

Kesyk slammed her fist down hard on the console, breaking the small finger. It didn’t matter. The blaster wound in her side didn’t matter either. It hurt. Hurt like hell. But she was alive. That fact cataloged, she turned back to the show.

Sith starfighters continued to duel their Mandalorian counterparts in an ugly struggle to dominate both space and sky. Torpedo bombers slipped through the gaps to launch their assaults on the enemy capital ships, but not all of them came out unscathed. Whether it was a single bomber or a whole squadron lost.

The Vice Admiral resolved. Pieces had to be spent. No victory was won without it.

“Refocus fire,” she commanded. “Hit that fleet.” She highlighted Romul’s forces providing orbital and air support.

It would take time for total efficiency, as the skeleton bridge staff juggled the chain, but already several batteries turned their attention from civilian ships. Plenty had died already. Reports from the ground showed that the plague was gorged. She could focus on bringing down the threat to Helix .

Sathog bomber squadrons joined, too, escorted by TIE Hunters.

Had Ceria heard Cruelty refer to her by her first name, or question her decision to not seek reinforcements, she might’ve barked back.

But again, her attention remained focused. “Oh - that bastard…” A few ships reported back. The enemy was attempting to board with small ramming ships. They’d certainly have agility on their side.

Now that improved her mood. Crews rallied aboard the targeted vessels, smashing alarms and ransacking armories. Sith Marines - armed with vibroblades, axes, and scatterguns - roared to meet the boarders.

She swiped her screens to get a readout of what was happening in the sky. The Mandalorians sent war droids to attack the ground objectives. So be it, she called up the flight commander.

“You have eyes, don’t you?! Use them! We can replace everything we lose here. What we can’t replace is today!”

‘Fools,’ She thought.

It was the one lingering quirk with ex-Alliance officers. They didn’t always understand the point - pieces were made to be spent.

Thankfully, the flight commander was a smart man when you yelled at him a little. The TIE squadrons fought more aggressively, focusing on higher-risk maneuvers to deal ferocious damage. It was the kind of aggression that meant the enemy’s war droids and fighters would pay dearly for committing to the strafing and bombing runs. They could, of course, and maybe they’d deal some damage to the ritual equipment or pyres, but they’d lose their opportunity to do it again, she reckoned.

‘Wait… What?’

Did the light in the bridge change? She looked up and noticed the great netheric wound tear across the black.

The cogs were surreal. She wanted to witness Mercy’s glory. Yearned for it. But she knew her Master needed her to focus. To continue waging the battle above, so her Master could win the one below.

“Right…” She almost forgot about those nasty star destroyers pecking at the Tyranny’s engines.

The shields largely held, and where they didn’t, the armor could only be chewed away. Slowly. The engines were vulnerable. Durable. Many of them. But vulnerable. Thankfully, however, the forces she had sent to intercept were still present.

But therein lay the cost of inefficiency.

A Tyranny gunner had fired a salvo of assault concussion missiles at one of the enemy star destroyers. What they didn’t account for was how close the Sith cruiser was. She watched both blips - the enemy and the cruiser - flicker off her tactical feed.

She slammed her fist down again - breaking the same finger further. “Ffff,” she seethed, unable to finish her curse.

Spoiler: Action Summary

• Reacted to the bomb going off on the bridge.
• Some losses at the Hammer-Hand's counter maneuver. Otherwise holding and maintaining the aggressive push, while being wary of feints and other scoundrel tactics.
• The initial wave of TIEs were punished by flak, others are adjusting to these more dangerous conditions.
• Sathog bombers continue their runs.
• Aerial support is fighting more aggressively. Especially on Objective One.
• Tyranny has redirected some batteries to hitting Romul's ships that are providing fire support.
• Some Sith ships are being boarded.
• The ships defending Tyranny more closely are addressing Yuri's SDs, which are attacking the engines. Some damage is being taken, but it's weathering. A Grand Victory cruiser was lost alongside one of Yuri's SDs.
• Kesyk broke her finger... twice.
• Tyranny continues to maintain course. Otherwise. Being a massive pain with lots of guns.

 

[Vess Sadragen]

Every lull in the Mandalorian fire gave her another opportunity to search the red haze, her hazel eyes catching on every silhouette and flash of movement that might have been Lily. She kept expecting to see the familiar amber blade somewhere among them, or for the air beside her to fold and Lily to simply appear again with some explanation for where the hell she'd gone.

Another volley hammered against the barricade, and Vess ducked behind what little remained of it, waiting for the fire to pass before rising again. Her violet blade caught the first bolt aimed her way, sending it harmlessly aside before the pistol in her other hand answered twice. One of the Mandalorians disappeared back into the haze while another found cover, giving the soldiers around her enough time to shift along the line.

Lily could take care of herself, probably better than Vess could at this point, but knowing that didn't make standing there any easier. She resisted the urge to leave the barricade and go looking for her. With visibility reduced to almost nothing, she'd be just as likely to walk straight into the Mandalorian line as to find Lily, and abandoning the position wouldn't help either of them.

Another burst of fire came through the haze, and Vess met it, shifting several metres along the barricade to cover the gap left by a wounded soldier being pulled toward the rear. She had barely settled into the new position when something cold touched her cheek.

At first she thought it was ash.

Then it melted.

Vess blinked and looked upward as another flake settled against her skin, followed by another and then hundreds more carried on a wind that hadn't been there moments before.

"...Snow?"

The temperature fell almost as quickly as the storm arrived. Heat and sweat trapped beneath her clothes turned frigid against her skin while snow mixed with the red ash and spores already filling the air. Within minutes, the battlefield beyond the barricade had disappeared behind a swirling curtain of white and crimson.

"Sure. Why not." At this point, Vess wasn't certain what else the planet could throw at them; she regretted the thought almost immediately. A tremendous crack rolled through the drop site as one of the nearby buildings began to collapse. Duracrete and metal folded inward, throwing another cloud of debris into the storm before the impact shuddered through the ground beneath her boots. Vess turned toward it, watching through the blowing snow as another structure began to come apart further down the line.

There was no way to tell anymore whether it was the Mandalorians, the plague, or one of their own doing it. Vess wasn't sure she wanted to know she reached for her comm again. "Lily, if you can hear me, say something."

Static.

Her jaw tightened as she lowered her hand. The fighting around her was changing too. Covenant soldiers who should have been exhausted were throwing themselves forward with renewed aggression, some abandoning perfectly defensible positions to charge through the storm. Vess watched one man vault the barricade entirely and disappear into the haze after a retreating Mandalorian.

"...What are you doing?"

Blaster fire answered from somewhere beyond sight. Vess had no intention of following him. Another explosion illuminated the storm in the distance, followed by another somewhere across the city. Whatever remained of the battle lines seemed to be disappearing beneath the chaos now. Fighters screamed overhead, visible only as brief shadows through the clouds, while the distant flash of weapons fire painted the falling snow in uneven bursts.

Then came the mechanical roar.

Vess looked up as an enormous silhouette broke through the storm overhead, its unmistakable shape disappearing again almost as quickly as she'd seen it. Another followed, then several more, Basilisk war droids descending toward the city in numbers she had absolutely no interest in counting.

"...That's not good."

Her attention returned to the haze immediately. Still no Lily. For the first time, Vess seriously considered leaving the barricade. The thought had barely formed before another Mandalorian push struck the line and forced her attention back into the fight. Her blade rose again, and the pistol followed.

She would find Lily when this broke; she just needed a minute.

The sky flashed.

Vess almost ignored it. There had been explosions everywhere for what felt like hours, some distant and others close enough to shake the ground beneath her. It wasn't until the entire blizzard turned brilliant white that some instinct warned her this one was different.

She turned toward it.

That was all the time she had.

The orbital strike hit frighteningly close to the perimeter. Sound and force arrived together, a deafening crack swallowing the battlefield as the shockwave tore through the drop site. The barricade in front of Vess simply ceased to exist, stone and durasteel exploding outward as though they weighed nothing.

She never felt herself leave the ground.

One moment she had been standing behind the barricade, and the next the world was tumbling around her, ground and sky changing places too quickly for her to orient. Her left shoulder struck the remains of a duracrete barrier first, pain surging through her arm as the impact changed her direction and sent her spinning. She hit the ground hard, bounced across broken stone, and caught a fleeting glimpse of the wall rushing toward her before the side of her head struck it.

Everything went black.

Vess had no idea how long she was out.

Awareness returned slowly, accompanied by a strange quiet that she knew couldn't possibly be real. The ground still trembled beneath her and flashes continued to illuminate the storm, but everything seemed impossibly far away beneath the high ringing filling her ears she opened her eyes and immediately regretted it.

The ruined street rolled lazily onto its side before righting itself again. Vess squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing against the nausea that followed and waiting several seconds before cautiously trying again. It was marginally better.

Snow and crimson ash drifted together around her, settling across shattered duracrete and pieces of the barricade that had somehow travelled almost as far as she had. Something burned nearby, casting an uneven glow through the storm, while a warm trickle worked its way from somewhere near her hairline, following the curve of her cheek before gathering along her jaw.

Vess lifted a hand to it and stared at the blood across her fingertips for a moment.

She should probably move.

Planting her left hand against the ground proved to be a mistake. Pain tore through her shoulder with enough intensity that her arm immediately buckled beneath her, sending her back against the wall with a sharp hiss.

"Kriff..."

The pain managed to clear some of the fog. Vess carefully pushed herself upright with the other arm, cradling the injured one against herself once she was sitting. Her shoulder didn't feel right. Even through the haze clouding her thoughts, she could tell that much: the joint was sitting at an angle that made the smallest movement send pain racing down her arm.

For several seconds she simply sat there, breathing through the pain and waiting for her balance to catch up with the rest of her. Her head throbbed with every beat of her heart, blood continuing to run warmly down the side of her face despite the cold.

She reached instinctively for her comm and winced when the movement pulled at her injured shoulder. Switching hands, she awkwardly pulled the device free and found little more than cracked casing and exposed circuitry. Several components had been scorched beyond recognition while others were simply gone.

Ordinarily she would have known exactly where to begin.

Vess stared at it.

The circuitry was familiar. She knew it was familiar. She could name most of the components individually, knew what they were supposed to do, but for several long seconds she couldn't make them fit together into anything meaningful. That frightened her considerably more than the blood she let the ruined comm fall from her hand.

Vess looked toward where she thought the drop site should have been, trying to find the glow of the pyres or anything else she could use to orient herself. Between the blizzard, smoke, spores, and debris thrown into the air by the strike, she could barely see beyond the nearest ruined structures. Even the fighting seemed to come from everywhere at once, leaving her with no clear sense of which direction she'd been facing before the blast.

She needed to reach the rear; there would be medics there, working communications and, more importantly, someone who could tell her where Lily was. She could get her shoulder looked at, find Arris, find Lily, and figure out what the hell they were supposed to do next.

Vess used the wall and her good arm to drag herself back onto her feet, remaining there for a few moments while she waited to see whether her legs intended to cooperate. Her lightsaber lay several metres away, half buried beneath rubble, and retrieving it became considerably more difficult than it had any right to be. She eventually managed to reach it and clipped it back to her belt one-handed after fumbling the first attempt.


The pistol took longer; for a moment she considered leaving it. Vess staggered through the debris until she found it beneath a broken section of the barricade, bending carefully to retrieve it before slipping it back into its holster; she wasn't leaving Arris's gift behind. Another impact rolled through the city, close enough to shake loose debris from the buildings around her. Vess flinched, her good hand finding the wall again as the street briefly threatened to shift beneath her feet.

"Rear," she murmured, fixing the thought firmly in her mind.

Find the rear. Find a comm. Find Lily.

Vess looked through the storm and chose the street that seemed to lead away from the fighting. She started walking, one arm held protectively against her body while the other occasionally reached for the nearest wall whenever her balance betrayed her. She never noticed that the sounds of battle weren't growing any more distant as she disappeared into the red-stained blizzard.

​

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

 

[Quinn Varanin]

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

It happened quickly, and Quinn didn't even know who had shown up. Her instincts were to blast the intruder through the ice back into the Mandalorians, but she saw it. The blonde had moved towards her, but Arris was quicker and scooped the girl into her arms. Quinn's focus split again; something weighed against her chest, and she could suddenly hear the beat of her own heart in her ears.

“I need you.”

Despite everything, Quinn had never heard those words from Arris. The need was for what she could give; the need was the power she offered. Arris didn't even want everything she could offer. The rest of the conversation fell on deaf ears; Quinn had stopped feeling pain, every bit of her becoming numb. Even the other girl's response was heard, but not really.

In a blip, they were gone.

Quinn was alone.

But Quinn was always alone.

It was hilariously common for the young woman. A crowded room of people who knew her, who wanted to know her, and yet she was so lonely.

But something foolishly paused. She remembered how Arris held her, how Arris gave that affection back. Quinn held her breath, knowing that the moment Arris realized that Quinn hadn't gone with them, she would come back. Quinn had carved a path to Arris, to find the woman after she sent her away out of fear she'd lose her to the chaos that surrounded them.

She'll come back…

She'll come back for me…

One second.

Two.

Silence.

Quinn waited, but it was obvious that they weren't coming back. They were gone; Arris had chosen and had left her.

A younger Quinn would have given in to her rage, her frustration of not being enough for someone to stick around. She would have cried out, screaming after Arris, with tears staining her cheeks.

No, instead Quinn exhaled softly, the cold becoming colder. Any tears that lingered turned to flecks of ice that clung to the edge of her lashes. She wouldn't shed a tear, not for Arris and not for the predicament she was now in. Surrounded by the enemy, she could feel them drawing closer as the echo of jetpacks roared over the churning blizzard.

Quinn had created a barrier all around her and her partner. She could feel the difference in temperature between her blood and the wind. Each breath ached as more of her seeped through the fabric of her armor. Instead of falling apart, the woman stood straighter, her head held high as she focused her mind back on the fight. The ice shields that spun around her had enough time to feel sorry for herself.

Maybe she wanted to die, but she would never give that pleasure to a Mandalorian, especially one that didn't even live in Mandalore.

Quinn scoffed as she watched the Siv leap to the other side of her. She could have dragged him into the eye of the storm, drawn her spear and skewered him like the hairless beast he resembled.

But that would be too quick, too easy a death for him.

Instead, she waited for him to land, to place his blind faith into the primitive weapon he held in his hand. The shots cracked through the roar of the wind and the hellfire that now burned at the edge of the city. Quinn ignored everything but the gun; she counted the shots, and while she was able to defend against most of them, she wasn't invincible.

She didn't scream, she didn't groan — instead she acted unfazed as the fourth bullet tore through muscle and flesh. Quinn inhaled deeply, tasting the copper at the back of her throat. Her hands continued to move as if on their own as the ice and snow continued to surround her, layer upon layer forming once more. Her eyes followed both of the Mandalorians, seeing that they had attempted to be in front of and behind her — leaving her sides as the only means of movement.

It didn't matter.

Her lips parted on a ragged breath before the cough tore its way out of her.

Blood welled against her tongue, metallic, and gathering at the back of her throat. Another cough followed, harsher than the first, staining her already crimson lips. Quinn dragged the back of her hand across her mouth, wiping the blood away before the cold had a chance to freeze it against porcelain skin.

It hurt.

Stars flickered at the edges of her vision whenever she breathed too deeply, and somewhere beneath the layers of armor and fabric she could feel warmth spreading where there should have been none. Every movement pulled at damaged flesh. Every breath reminded her exactly how much punishment her body had already taken.

But it wasn't enough. Not yet.

Quinn's fingers curled slowly into a fist.

The storm answered.

The protective cocoon of ice surrounding her groaned beneath the impact of incoming rockets and whistling bird missiles. Hairline fractures raced across its surface in branching patterns, glowing pale beneath the flashes of distant weapons fire.

Then Quinn closed her hand completely.

The cocoon exploded.

Not inward, but out.

The missiles disappeared into a violent eruption of frost and shattered ice. Detonations rolled through the blizzard, briefly illuminating the battlefield in harsh bursts of orange and white as thousands of fragments were thrown through the air. Quinn moved with them, bursting through the collapsing shell before the last pieces had even fallen. Her white hair whipped across her bloodied face as the storm swallowed her silhouette.

A hand reached over her shoulder and closed around Asarsi, drawing the silver spear free in one smooth motion.

Above her, Siv Dregr hovered against the storm-darkened sky. Quinn looked up at him. And the scattered ice stopped falling. Hundreds of fragments hung suspended throughout the air. Some were little more than splinters. Others were jagged pieces the length of knives.

Under Quinn's influence, each one began to change.

Moisture condensed around them. Frost crept outward. Broken edges sharpened and elongated as her cryokinesis reshaped the debris into deliberate constructions — needles, blades, narrow spears and brutal wedges of translucent ice.

The blizzard fed her.

Quinn thrust her open hand toward Siv, and the sky answered with teeth.

The first wave screamed toward him from below. Then another came from his flank. Then another from behind.

No simple trajectory to avoid, no single projectile to intercept. Quinn manipulated the storm around him, bending the frozen constructions through the air until they converged upon his position from dozens of different angles.

She wanted his attention divided. She wanted him looking everywhere. Because the ice wasn't the attack.

It was the net. Quinn shifted the spear in her hand. For half a heartbeat, she measured the distance between them. Then she threw it.

The silver spear left her hand with enough Force to disappear into the swirling curtain of snow, spinning through the same converging field of ice aimed toward Siv.

It looked like a desperate throw. A weapon intended to punch directly through him while the storm kept him occupied.

It wasn't.

At the last possible moment, Quinn flicked two fingers sideways. The Force caught the spear. Asarsi veered away. Instead of striking Siv, it flashed past him. Quinn's gaze followed it. Her wrist twisted and the spear stopped. Suspended for the briefest fraction of a second behind the Mandalorian, its ornate silver head gleaming through the blizzard.

Then Quinn pulled. Hard.

The Force seized the weapon and accelerated it back toward him. Its rotation ceased. Its point lowered, and suddenly the weapon was aimed to cut through the man, through his jetpack.

The spear dropped like an executioner's blade.

Faster and faster.

Quinn poured the Force behind it until the weapon became little more than a streak of silver descending through the storm, perfectly positioned to punch through the machine and armor plating — anything standing between its point and the mechanism keeping Siv in the air.

Around him, the ice closed.

Dozens became hundreds.

A frozen constellation collapsing inward.

Above.

Below.

Behind.

Beside him.

There was nowhere Quinn wasn't attacking from.

She continued moving beneath him, boots grinding through bloodied snow as she refused to remain a stationary target. One hand remained lifted, fingers twitching and curling as she guided the ice. The other hovered near her side, ready to call Asarsi back the moment she needed it.

Her breaths grew shorter; her body grew heavier.

She could feel the cold slipping deeper into her limbs now, mixing with exhaustion and blood loss until it became difficult to distinguish one numbness from another.

Still, Quinn kept her eyes on Siv. Her focus wholly upon him.

Almost.

Because somewhere beyond him, somewhere within the screaming wind and gunfire, she could still feel the presence of the other coward lingering in the air.

Quinn wiped another thin line of blood from the corner of her mouth.
She was alone now. Arris was gone. There was no one standing behind her to protect her anymore. No one left for Quinn to throw herself in front of.

Only enemies.

Her expression hardened. That was fine, because beneath the roaring blizzard, the young Queen smiled through bloodied lips.

Quinn was alone.

But she would not die alone.

 

[Srina Talon]

OBJECTIVE: 2 [Spaceport]
LOCATION: [Abregado-rae - Spacesport Sky]
SITH ALLIES: Mercy - Grace - Xan Atropus - Veyla Tass - Kaelyr - Leontis Antalis - Astra Sadow [
SITH ENEMIES: Carduul Akahl | The Arkanian

He should be dead.

Srina knew that much before she ever saw the damage inflicted. Darkness had struck hard enough to tear armor away, wrench his shoulder, and shatter his visor. Yet, he remained in the air, seemingly coherent despite a litany of visible injuries. He was angry and able enough to scream back through the snow. It was…Interesting.

Golden eyes narrowed through the blizzard while the answer presented itself in the way her power seemed to lose something just before it reached him. It was the same phenomenon that she had experienced with his jetpack. Her attack didn’t disappear or fail…It was just severely diminished. There was a deadness around him that reminded her slightly of the hounds, but it was subtle, smaller, and more personal.

Something that made…Impossible, unbearable punishment survivable.

So… He had his little miracles.

The realization did not offend her. If anything…It was rather settling in a warzone where typical bonds of sense and reality seemed to have decided to take a vacation. She had endured things that should have killed her a dozen times over. She had died on Coruscant…But her return had a price and a cause. Whether it was blood, skill, alchemy, armor, the Darkside, or Mercy—There was always a reason.

The Arkanian apparently had one too.

What he did not have, what none of his ilk had, was time. The world above and below him had changed. The bitter cold of the blizzard mixed with unbearable heat left anyone unprotected, with the sensation of being flash-frozen and then microwaved. The plague…

"Come now, scurry toward your doom. You cannot kill me in a way that matters."

She had no idea how the Bloody Bonnet would react, but she could feel the Hordemother above it all in a way that was indescribable. The flesh reavers and spores would suffer in the frigid wind, but she could not imagine the plague itself would be so easily dismissed. She could feel a shift in the air—In the way her children fought.

The return of Vestra Tane was accompanied by the sort of obnoxious, senseless violence those who knew her in life had no doubt come to expect. Her army of the dead poured out from the nether-wound above Abregado-Rae, and descended upon the battlefield with the sort of zeal seen only in the dead and dying. These ghosts fell upon the Mandalorian army wherever it could be found; from the urban centers where the first spores landed, to the burning industrial district, to the spaceport where the Core-Empress herself crashed against the Mando'ade.

Those bursts of shadow that had gone wild were no longer transparent stains against the empty air. They tore open one after the other while the Field of Blades filled the sky as the rupture to the Netherworld widened. Cogs turned where stars belonged, and Srina could feel the unnatural pull it created. As if trying to bring them all home. The pale woman had formed passage for Vestra Tane and the host of souls she brought with her.

The way was no longer shut.

The fallen Sith Lords moved through the doorways without sparing her a glance and headed toward the spaceport in droves. Srina could feel her battle-sister below and perhaps now, finally, the flame-haired woman really did understand. At least for a moment…Until rage poured into her along with everything else that lived beneath that monstrous skin. She felt the pain of it…But the giantess was alive, fighting.

Mercy hadn’t given up. Quinn Varanin hadn’t—Neither would she.

"I'm gonna break you."

The Arkanian came through the heat, through the blizzard, like a missile, and her form twisted in the air to face him fully. She was still having trouble breathing while a sucking noise inside her armor told her that not all was as it should be. Pain…Pain was expected, but it was also a familiar friend. That of her children moved through her, making it difficult to tell what injured them and what gave her pause. Her fist came up to pound against her chest, and she held it there for a moment, pushing through. There was no other option.

But…He seemed surprised that she didn’t simply fall over and die with his command. There was a reason Sith from all nations knew of her, followed her, and it had nothing to do with her appearance. Sith did not work that way. They were vicious, rotten creatures who devoured weakness in one another with almost religious enthusiasm. Somehow…She remained intact and sovereign throughout it all. If the Mandalorian had expected a fight with an acolyte fresh from the Academy—He should have turned tail the moment he placed her face.

Time seemed to slow as she watched him get closer. He had height, mass, and beskar. Not to mention very likely every gadget and gizmo the Mando’ade had to offer. He was careening toward her despite everything she had done to him, head first, with no restraint. There were easier things to fight than an angry Mandalorian. There were also considerably more intelligent things to do than throw one's entire body at an Echani.

She didn’t move, and the wind pulled through her hair while he got larger in her vision.

“Nwûl j'us zoist.”
Show me your strength.​

"One day. Today, tomorrow, in a year, I will face my death with a smile."

When that day came...They would smile together. But that moment was not this day—Not even close.

It was then that Srina dropped like a stone. She didn’t move backward or shift to the side, but the Force simply stopped holding her body and gravity took possession of her trajectory. His charge passed where her chest had been, and the falling woman put her hands together while looking up at him. Her voice lingered on the wind, but her lips never moved.

“Nu dary kia tave.”
I am waiting for you.​

Darkness gathered between her palms, each second, giving him time to recover from her absence. There was no warning other than a sudden distortion of air before another blast of midnight shadow erupted upward. His fractured visor might not let him track her attack as well as he had before, but he would be able to see the dark light emanating from her hands.

Witness glowing golden eyes piercing through him as if he were made of wet paper.

Even falling like a star…

She was charging another blast—Leading him down into the ocean of returned Sith Warriors.

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)

 

[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 world was consumed by fire and ice. The sky, by a sickly miasma of smoke, spores, and laserfire. With every breath, the battlefield seemed to be leveled anew by another pivot of the Force in a violent back-and-forth between Mandalorians and Sith.

It was too much to grasp. Even with the Dark-side's blessing of apathy and dissonance, and the Amulet's wavering ward against the Sith collective. All he could bring himself to focus on was the madness of Anet. She, who believed he made a fine vessel for destruction. Who'd played him, and now sought to drag him down into darkness with her. To mold him into something she believed was a greater purpose.

Drawn deep into the Force, he found himself both unable to forgive her and disturbingly gratified by her guidance. Enough to know that hate alone wouldn't be enough to make him waver from this path.

“W-Whoa!” She stumbled back, laughing harder. Were the circumstances different, one might’ve assumed she had too much to drink.

Anet looked at Calyx after catching her breath. “Listen, Calyx!” She was too delighted. “Listen… Shush yourself, close your eyes… Feel the heat and the rumble… the fear… the exhilaration… Your hatred-” had he known how close she had gotten just then? A breath away from his ear.

She whispered. “Deep down, despite your guilt… You love this. Are you so upset… that you can’t savor it?”

She stepped back.

And then, when she stumbled at the edge, he reflexively grabbed for her. Realizing that despite the hatred he felt for her, he couldn't let her go.

His mouth twisted as he held on to the woman rocking with laughter. "Upset does not begin to describe it," he retorted bitterly. There was nothing to savor. All he could feel was the oppressive heat that dried the sweat on his skin instantly.

It brought his attention to the roaring flames of the all-encompassing inferno that they'd caused. Varin seemed to funnel them into something that stretched beyond his awareness in the Force.

Faintly, he registered another impossibility. Another wave in the Force crashing against him. The sky had torn itself open, delivering the terrible might of the Sith down onto the Mandalorians.

But… was this winning?

There would be nothing left of Abregado. The unleashed violence of the Sith and the indiscriminate ruthlessness of the Mandalorians had made a hellscape that wouldn't recover in his lifetime.

And there were more planets to follow. Artisans, resources, allies… all those forms of strength would be lost to mindless destruction. Thinking of it gave him certainty - the path forward had already made itself known.

Calyx watched as the Force wraiths reinforced their numbers and the fires surged higher and higher. He needed the power to stop the Covenant's terror. And fast, before more worlds burned.

But discovering the weaknesses of the Triumvir and the sorceress who'd infected this world would be a monumental task. It would require getting close first. To Windrun, Mercy, Madrona…

He needed Acier. Verse. Any allies crafty or cunning enough to help overthrow the Covenant's leaders.

Under the helmet, his mouth twisted into a smile.

He watched death. Terror. Hell unfold before his eye.

But he'd found purpose again. Impossible, insurmountable odds that had to be overcome.

Or a reason, at least, to die trying.

 

[Tamsin Starfall]

BYOO
The Mark Of The Dark
​

Theme: I'm Noboby
TAGS: OPEN

The line where a storm of fire and ice clashed a portal opened amidst all the carnage. It flickered and spat barely holding together as it seemingly blinked in out of existence. For a moment it held steady, just a moment then vanished completely. In its place stood ten figures wearing old tattered brown robes as the storms of Varin Mortifer and Tytos Saxon met and clashed raging all around them.

Burst of heat and freeze in constant fluctuation around them. Twisters of ice and fire battling for supremacy in the turbulent winds they created. The tattered robe figures stood around an eleventh figure. The tattered robe figures stood tall over seven feet tall each the same height as the other. Their faces obscured by the tattered brown hoods of their robes. Yet the eleventh figure that they surrounded was diminutive in comparison to them.

Even in the storm the distant bombardments of Ceria Kesyk bombing runs could be faintly heard. The rising of the dead lords under the fallen Vestra Tane call. The smell of the plague created by @Madrona A'Mia trying to permeate the air battling for its right to grow and feast on this world.

Pure chaos and destruction as was to be expected between these two war-torn factions had made the call not the whisper of the name. It fed off these moments like Astra Sadow sanguine kin fed off life force. It did not care who won or lost, its desires were much darker.

The brown tattered figures turned inward towards the small figure and then dropped to their knees. As flame and ice bit at there tattered robes and into the skin underneath burning both in hot and cold across it. The diminutive figure in the middle wore black robes and stood just under five feet tall even with those in tattered robes kneeling, just the tip of her black hood was visible.

The tattered brown robed figures then each one reached into their robes and pulled out a small little container. Gently they placed the container on the ground in front of them as they reached to their belts and pulled forth a dagger. As they did the diminutive figure raised her arms and the lids of the ten containers on the ground rose up and from them snaked out ten worms. They snaked out onto the soil of the ground, the ten kneeling bodies blocking them from direct contact with the elements fluctuating around them. The ten baby worms had been injected with the plague.

As the worms slithered into the soil the ten figures began chanting and the amulet around the diminutive figures' neck began to glow a violet hue.

myrkrit skal heimta þenna heim

etinn af ormasótt

grafinn til fúa

þá spillir

til myrkrs at gleypa​

As they Chanted over and over again as the souls of the dead that had not yet crossed over began to move towards the call of the amulet that glowed violet around the diminutive figures neck. The tatter robed figures brought their daggers up ready to plunge them into their own chests when the call of the dark answered their prayers.

vér gefum blóð vár

til svelgingar þessa heims​

The violence escalated to a high pitch of carnal rage. This world was doomed, consumed about to be marked by the dark.

 

[Naniti]

A buckler. Plasma flashed and popped in outrage at one of the Mandalorian's numerous equipment being brought forth. They should have been polite enough to just die on command. A typical Sith Warrior might have leaned into the clash as if to literally force the saber blade through the shield and into its bearer. It wasn't for a lack of darkness that gathered about the Togruta before Feydrik Munin , however, that she didn't overcommit as rage dictated.

With the shield in her face and with the blade a blinding light against it, Naniti couldn't visually see much. The Mandalorian himself took up most of her field of view. Even the Force could be said to be difficult to sense where he stood; there was a tear in reality above their heads that threatened to let armies of the dead wash over Abregado-rae and kill every last living resident. Naniti didn't think people appreciated just how few natives had been evacuated in what little time had passed. How bitter the ashes would taste even in victory. And so, she knew she was not the only one being blinded in battle.

Of course, Feydrik didn't much care for all that. He was a warrior. His task was to kill the violet woman before him. The violet Togruta before him. With montrals.

Rather than strike, Naniti sought to shove the saber blade into that crushgaunt that moved for her left hand. It would be as thick and protected as any other part of his body this she knew, but it would give it something else to hold on to than herself. All she needed was a split second as she withdrew from the lock with a short hop.

Prepared to strike, an explosion tore through the factory district. Then, another explosion that erupted into the sky ( Varin Mortifer Naamino Zuukamano ). Rapidly expanding gases of the blizzard chilled air had a gale of wind flung throughout the district. It was far from where they stood, but it stirred lesser material strewn about the rooftops and shook the stalks the Mandalorians sought to annihilate.

A sequence of explosions caused by Varin's, Anet Raine , and Calyx Sundrift were much closer, however. Plumes of fire and smoke only added to the perpetual question whether it was day or night on Abregado-rae. Naniti felt the building beneath them shift and move from the quake centered on those explosions.

With Feydrik so armed, Naniti surged forth once more. This time she'd use the Jar'Kai style to deliver a rapid flurry of strikes from multiple directions to try and break the man's guard to get at the beskar-sealed meat behind it. Attack high near the head and shoulders with one blade, and low with another; keep him working to deflect, avoid, or meet her strikes until an opening was found.

 

[Leontis Antalis]

LEONTIS ANTALIS
Outfit/Armor

The laboratory administrator had nerve. Leontis would give her that much. He turned slowly from the tactical display as the woman stalked toward him, listened to her declaration, and allowed the silence afterward to stretch just long enough to become uncomfortable.

His four House Guardsmen did not move. They did not need to. Their attention simply shifted toward her. Leontis' expression settled into something almost pleasant. "Do you know who you're speaking to?" The question was delivered softly. That somehow made it worse.

"I am Leontis Antalis. Lord of House Antalis. Commander of the Chandrilan forces presently keeping Mandalorians from turning this laboratory into a rather expensive crater." His gaze dipped briefly toward the woman's hand, then back to her face. "And while I appreciate dedication to one's employer, I would strongly advise against confusing my courtesy with uncertainty regarding my authority over my own operation."

He could have continued. He wanted to continue. Then his eyes drifted past her. Across the defensive perimeter. Toward what Astra Sadow had done to the Mandalorian armored force. One ruined vehicle lay partially opened like someone had peeled apart its hull for amusement. Another had been rendered substantially less threatening shortly before it could put a shell into Leontis' position. Somewhere beyond those wrecks, Astra herself had become something he wasn't entirely certain should still be called a woman.

Leontis looked back at the researcher. Astra had earned some latitude, and quite frankly fear. Annoyingly. "The research remains yours." The woman seemed prepared to reply. Leontis raised one finger. "I have not finished."

His staff immediately understood the change in direction. "You will keep your data within Sanguine Enterprises systems if that is Chairwoman Sadow's policy." He looked toward his communications officer. "But my people will establish an encrypted emergency transmission architecture capable of moving your critical research off-site at a moment's notice."

The administrator's expression tightened. "No research will be transmitted without authorization."

"Correct." Leontis smiled. "But when Miss Sadow decides she would rather preserve months of scientific work than watch it vaporize alongside this camp, I would prefer that decision not be followed by someone saying it will take twenty minutes to establish a secure connection."

He turned away from her. "Prepare the pipeline. Do not access their data."

His officer nodded. "Encryption keys and destination nodes only?"

"Precisely." Leontis glanced back toward the administrator. ”You retain control." A pause. "We retain competence." That seemed a reasonable compromise.

A transmission interrupted whatever response might have followed. "Violet Two to Antalis Actual."

Leontis accepted it immediately. "Report."

The voice on the other end sounded considerably less comfortable than before. "Cannon took a direct orbital barrage. Shields destabilized. Structural damage across the housing. One stabilizer heavily compromised. Control section has casualties."

Leontis' expression lost its amusement. "Operational?"

"Barely, sir."

That was still operational. "Then assist them."

"Sir?"

"Repairs. Casualty extraction. Damage control. Whatever their crew requires that you are capable of providing." He enlarged the emplacement's position. "Your mission has changed. The cannon no longer needs liaison officers standing around admiring it. It needs people keeping it alive."

"Acknowledged."

"And keep yourselves out of exposed positions. If another barrage lands, I do not want Violet Two becoming part of the damage report."

"Understood." The channel closed.

Another immediately replaced it. "Violet One."

Leontis straightened. That was promising. "Go."

"We have the maintenance level."

The faintest smile appeared. "Continue."

"Local traffic network isolated. Emergency power junction secured. Environmental trunk is under our control. We can cut the tower from the rest of the port whenever you want."

There it was. The control tower remained physically occupied. Leontis no longer cared. "Can you access traffic-control data?"

"Partial access. They're locked out above us, but we're inside the network."

"Can they still issue meaningful instructions?"

A pause. "Not if we don't want them to."

Leontis smiled fully now. "Then congratulations. You have taken the tower."

"Sir, we're not actually—"

"I am aware of where you are." He studied the display. "Hold that maintenance level. Do not assault upward unless presented with an exceptional opportunity."

Violet One had already lost people trying to reach the obvious objective. There was no reason to lose more now that they controlled everything feeding it. "New priority: turn the tower into an island."

"Meaning?"

"Cut external communications except channels we choose to leave open. Preserve environmental controls. Preserve emergency power under our authority." His finger moved over the terminal schematics. "And begin feeding whatever traffic data you can retrieve to the main force."

"What about the personnel upstairs?"

Leontis considered that. "Let them remain comfortable enough to surrender." A beat. "If they attempt to leave, detain them."

"Acknowledged."

Now the tower was somebody else's problem. Reports from the main force began stacking across the tactical display. Leontis opened the command net. "Main force, status by section."

Answers came quickly.
"Departure Aurek secure. Civilian holding is beyond capacity."
"Freight corridor Three under control. We're seeing infected among the civilians now."
"Administrative east reports... sir, we've got ghosts."

Leontis blinked. "Clarify."

There was a pause that suggested the soldier wished he could. "Dead Sith, sir. Armed. Moving through the terminal. They're attacking Mandalorian positions."

Of course they were. Leontis pinched the bridge of his nose against the environmental mask before remembering that the mask made the gesture largely pointless. "Are they attacking us?"

"Negative."

"Then they are not our problem."

Another voice cut in. "They're terrifying the civilians."

That, unfortunately, was his problem. A separate squad reported before he could answer. "Civilian resistance is dropping sharply. Some are approaching our checkpoints voluntarily."

Leontis frowned. "Voluntarily?"

"Yes, sir. They're asking to be detained."

Another report joined it. "Same here. Plague victims are showing up in larger numbers. People are seeing infected in the halls and... whatever those dead things are. They're choosing our holding areas instead."

Leontis stared at the tactical map. That was certainly one way to improve compliance. "Very well." He switched to the platoon-wide channel. "All units, civilian processing protocols remain in effect, but adjust for voluntary surrender." The irony almost made him smile. "Anyone approaching our lines peacefully gets searched, screened for infection and detained." His tone sharpened. "Do not allow desperation to eliminate procedure."

The plague complicated everything. "Infected or symptomatic civilians go into isolated containment. Do not mix them with the general population."

Another report came in. "Sir, we've got families refusing to leave our checkpoint. They say they'll take detention over going back into the terminal."

Leontis looked toward the widening wound in the sky. Spectral armies were now pouring through it. The fungus was consuming the living. Capital ships were falling out of orbit. He could sympathize. Almost. "Then accommodate them."

The officer hesitated. "We're running short on secure holding space."

"Expand it."

"Into what?"

Leontis pulled up the facility map. "Unused baggage processing. Cargo inspection. Maintenance staging." He marked several areas. "Clear them, seal them, and use them." A thought followed. "Keep normal civilians separated from infected populations, and keep both separated from valuable detainees." Because the apocalypse did not invalidate organization. It merely made organization more important.

"And if these spectral Sith continue moving through our sectors, do not engage them." He paused. "Do not follow them either." He could already imagine someone deciding an army of dead Sith represented convenient reinforcements. "They kill Mandalorians. We take infrastructure. Everyone remains within their area of expertise." Several acknowledgments followed.

Outside, the battlefield had changed again. Ghosts descended upon the spaceport. Astra was returning toward it. The ion cannon was wounded but still firing. The plague had begun driving civilians toward House Antalis checkpoints voluntarily. Leontis looked at the map. Strange. The more horrifying the battle became, the simpler his portion of it seemed.

Control the people. Control the movement. Control the systems. Everything else could scream at the sky.

His communications officer looked toward him. "Sir, the lab administrator?"

Leontis glanced back. She was still there. Of course she was. "I believe our conversation is concluded." He gave her a polite nod. "When Miss Sadow returns, you are welcome to complain about me at considerable length."

A distant howl rolled through the spaceport. Not machinery. Not something living either. Leontis glanced toward the terminal. "Preferably somewhere she can hear you over the dead."

Then he returned his attention to the command display. "Main force, continue." The tower was functionally crippled. The civilians were beginning to surrender themselves. The Mandalorian defenses were increasingly occupied by things that had already died once. Leontis permitted himself a small smile. "House Antalis is taking the port." This time, it sounded less like an objective. More like a statement of fact.

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

​

​

 

[Feydrik Munin]

​

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

Naniti

With Feydrik so armed, Naniti surged forth once more. This time she'd use the Jar'Kai style to deliver a rapid flurry of strikes from multiple directions to try and break the man's guard to get at the beskar-sealed meat behind it. Attack high near the head and shoulders with one blade, and low with another; keep him working to deflect, avoid, or meet her strikes until an opening was found.

The fury of attacks, each one more savage than the last, came at him even as the world around him broke down, exploded. He did not have time nor the desire to read the damage reports flickering across his HUD. His armor ramped up the cooling feature as his body temperature increased, grunting as the Sith's blades slammed against his guard- but one found purchase in his vambrace, right at the emitter of his shield. He howled in pain as the electric shock traveled up his arm, and his personal shield crackled away, and he was left without.

She could feel the quiet rage building up in him. A strike came down towards his neck- but he ducked just enough time, sparks showering where the lightsaber grazed his helmet. He dropped his knees only slightly, bending at the hips, tucking his armored arms towards his chest, building a guard in case her next attack came towards his torso. And he exploded upwards, a blazingly fast, brutal, and quick left cross towards the purple people plucker herself, hopefully timing it just as he hoped between her strikes and him breaking her attention by going just a bit lower.

Move like lightning, crash like thunder.

The blizzard prevented the spread of whatever the Sith were spewing forth- but the explosions ripping across the factory district were not particularly beneficial. Feydrik's troops encircled themselves, pulling back into a densely fortified position. The delay had worked, their tactical objective somewhat met, and now they waited and plotted their next move, the roughly-battalion sized element beginning to rapidly consolidate the way only Mandalorian troops, armed with jetpacks and equipped with transports and ridden-upon by war droids could.

​

 

[Darth Strosius]

Equipment: Lightsaber - Sword - Dagger - Robes
Tags: Madrona A’Mia / Romul Saxon / Tytos Saxon / Sahan Dragr / Gel Karn / Lina Ovmar / Revna Marr
--------------------------------------------

The dark spear had been enough to keep the hammer from smacking Him out of the air however His lightsaber had been far less effective, only really ensuring that the Mandalorian couldn't simply punch Him instead. Before Darth Strosius could properly mutter a curse under His breath about Beskar though, His vision was suddenly filled by the visor of His foe and He was sent spinning back through the air with a new pain blooming through His head. Although one that did surprisingly cause the existing one to ease slightly.

Concerning, especially when paired with the new scent of blood that was spattered into the new crack in the periphery of His visor, but also somewhat convenient nevertheless. Thankfully He had the briefest of moments before the hammer came towards Him again, just long enough to shake the black spots from His eyes but not enough to step back or aside to avoid the arc entirely. He would barely have enough time to move forward to make the strike miss that way, however He'd be left exposed in the rear and forced to strike at the Mandalorian at his most armored.

None of His options were ideal, until a whisper came to the back of His mind accompanied by an unseen salve that allowed His fracturing form to steady and the ceaseless ache to wane.

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

Behind His mask, a fanged grin spread across His face.

Darth Strosius threw His free hand up to meet the head of the hammer, armored fingers snapping and crushing as He affirmed His footing and just barely managed to halt the mighty swing. He winced and sucked in a breath but a ruined hand was a small price to pay compared to what might have happened to the rest of His form had the strike been allowed to land properly. Now came the reprisal. "Should have gone for the head, kung."

What remained of His fingers clutched at the cracked head and loosed a great burst of power, the rest of His body rearing back to thrust His lightsaber forwards. While it of course wasn't quite long enough to cross the gap between them that the Mandalorian had created, it served as the perfect guide as another spear of shadows slid along His arm and across the crimson blade before it surged forwards with the intent to skewer the warrior through his throat.

The Netherworld tearing into the living world and even the more pressing matter of the Mandalorian before Him were far from the only concerns however. An unnatural blizzard heralded by a great beacon of light was rapidly descending upon the dropsite, the ground around them already laden with snow. A cold that threatened to choke the fungal growth and more importantly which was bearing towards A'Mia even as she directed the Reavers to intercept the Mandalorians that rode with the weather.

Darth Strosius couldn't hope to stop a force of nature of course, but luckily for them all A'Mia was more than just a force of it herself. A glance was cast back at her as He sensed the surge of life and verdancy, widening at the sight of the form that she had shifted into. It was horrific, some nightmarish visage that almost broke His focus. Though not out of fear. Rather out of the stabbing familiarity that briefly lanced into His mind. A familiarity that wasn't His own, one that briefly caused His golden gaze to morph to a brilliant scarlet before He blinked and shook the notion away.

He could worry about whatever that was later, He still had Mandalorians to kill.

 

[Pax Velloran]

Western Landing Galleries
ABREGADO-RAE SPACEPORT | Astra Sadow | Leontis Antalis (Indirect/ Environmental) | OPEN TO TAGS

Pax reached the end of the service walkway and found the Larkspur exactly where he'd left it.

That was where the good news ended.

Two men stood beside the shuttle. One had the exterior access panel open and appeared to be having an increasingly personal disagreement with it. The other had moved several steps away and was looking up toward the walkway, rifle held loosely in both hands. Pax stopped before reaching the stairs. The boarding ramp was closed. That much was right.

He hadn't locked it.

For a moment he watched the man at the controls work. Either the defensive lockdown had reached farther into the landing galleries than he'd expected, or something had changed aboard the Larkspur while he was gone. Neither explanation improved the sight of two armed strangers trying to get inside it. The rifleman was still looking toward the walkway.

Pax considered the distance back to the service corridor. It wasn't far. Disappearing into it would be easy enough, provided the man below hadn't actually seen him. That was the problem with being almost unnoticed. He slipped the datapad beneath his coat. Getting the information had been the difficult part an hour ago. Now the problem was getting it out of the spaceport with him.

Pax started down the stairs.

Another impact reached the landing galleries before he made it halfway. The sound came first, a heavy concussion somewhere beyond the surrounding structures, followed by a tremor through the metal beneath his feet. Dust shook from an overhead support and drifted through the emergency lighting. Somewhere farther across the port, weapons fire rose briefly above the alarms before becoming part of the general noise again.

Nobody below looked especially surprised. That was probably a worse sign than the explosion.

The man with the rifle noticed him first.

Pax kept coming, though he made no effort to close the distance quickly. A hurried approach toward an armed stranger tended to invite conclusions that were difficult to correct afterward. He descended the remaining stairs at the same measured pace he'd used crossing the gallery, hands visible and well away from his coat. There was little advantage in pretending he hadn't been the movement they had seen above. Better to look like a man returning to his ship than one deciding whether to run from it. By the time he stepped onto the berth, the rifleman had plenty of opportunity to watch him coming.

His attention shifted briefly to the open access panel. Whatever they were trying to do, the Larkspur hadn't made it easy for them. That was interesting. Pax stopped several meters away.

"Having trouble?"

His gaze moved from the man at the controls to his companion. The rifle hadn't been raised, which seemed like a useful standard by which to judge the conversation. For the moment. The shuttle sat quietly behind them, boarding ramp still sealed against the hull. Pax looked at it for another second before returning his attention to the pair.

"I left it unlocked."

There wasn't much accusation in the statement. There didn't need to be. If they belonged to whatever security apparatus had spread through the spaceport, they could probably explain why the status had changed. If they didn't, the question of why they were attempting to access someone else's shuttle became considerably more interesting.

Another distant rumble traveled through the structure. Pax ignored it.

"What do you need?"

// END RECORD

 

[Astra Sadow]

​

"Unlocked?" The blue-eyed man stepped back from the ship, their hands dropped to their sides after all tools were transferred into their left.

The brown-haired man's eyes narrowed slightly, but Pax Velloran wasn't making any threatening moves yet. Wariness hadn't vanished, however, considering they were still in a war zone. If anything, Pax's ease was itself suspicious. "There was this diminuitive creature running around earlier. Might have tripped your security net. Damn thing managed to steal a ship, can you believe it?" ( Chomba Womba )

"We're checking all ships for stowaways. Orders to round up civilians for their protection," the locksmith added. "Speaking of, you should be inside. Not safe to breathe out here without protection."


The sharp hiss of an airlock cycling could be heard in the mobile lab where Leontis Antalis stood regarding the tactical situation on a monitor. No one really thought much of it. Military and researcher alike came and went for any number of reasons. Disinfectant protocols kept the fungus from getting inside the sealed chamber, and any failure of that protocol would sound an alarm well before the door opened -- and not voluntarily.

A bloodied hand struck the door frame and a dark figure leaned through it. A word or name came from the figure a second before a halting step crossed the threshold. What had previously been a scarlet crosh leather jacket was now barely more than tattered rags that clung to the figure's shoulders. Even the black vest of similar material beneath it was full of holes on the front, side, and back. Its wearer fell forward into the arms of Szehil.

One red eye could be seen where a missing glareshade lens should have been.

"Thirst," Astra's whisper was barely audible even in Szehil's ear.

With a sharp wave, another took up Astra's left as Szehil supported her right. They'd drag her upright across the floor, her arm across their shoulders, and toward the medical and holding area of the facility.

While Varin Mortifer and Kaelyr celebrated in fire, Anet Raine and Naamino Zuukamano beat the drums of destruction, and Vestra Tane , and Tamsin Starfall foresaw great and terrible things, Astra Sadow felt the sickening pain twisting in all life from the outpour of death that sought to consume the very world they occupied. It was that pain, that suffering, that waking nightmare that gnawed at her. Weakened by the countless bolts she'd soaked up -- even with a spot of field-healing -- Astra was particular susceptible to the hunger of it all. The ravenous desire to ravage that Revna Marr and Mercy felt, and Cruelty and Lina Ovmar enabled. It was everywhere. Madrona A’Mia 's fungal infection with its absurd growth and even radioactivate contamination in the factories was spurred ever forward by it. And in that moment, as Astra desperately needed her thirst slacked rather than bolstered, she could feel it all.

It was a symphony the likes of which she hadn't heard in such a long time. A swell of energy and excitement that compelled the listen to action. To bask in the radiance of everything that could be and the bittersweet crescendo of its End.

Hurry, she thought to her aide. She couldn't constrain herself much longer. So many living creatures inside that mobile Lab. So easy to claim. Just a little. A taste.

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

 

[Arris Windrun]

Vestra Tane | Lily Rhodes | Quinn Varanin | Vess Sadragen | Mercy | Madrona A’Mia | Darth Strosius | Romul Saxon | Revna Marr | Tytos Saxon | Sahan Dragr | Gel Karn
Down & Out​

As Arris held Lily, her attention snapped to something. She sensed the lock in the Force.

His armor's targeting systems locked onto their signatures, and Siv fired two weapons simultaneously: Whistling Birds, bright, flashy, shrieking through the snow in erratic patterns towards their targets, and paired with them silent malkite themfar rocket darts hissing from Siv's kneepad.

But before she could say anything. Or warn Quinn.

Her eyes snapped up, rage rising again and she studied Arris. Her calm surface was a perfect camouflage for the storm beneath it, whereas everything Lily was feeling was blindingly obvious.

“No.”

Lily snatched her away.

Arris still wasn’t used to it either - being folded out of space. It was one of those awesome things… like Quinn’s gift… that made her wonder just what the Force was capable of. She had seen it do terrible things. Rend life from worlds. Control machines. Halt a person in place. Shrug off death, or cause death plenty.

And now it had taken her from where Quinn was to where Arris needed to be.

Quinn waited, but it was obvious that they weren't coming back. They were gone; Arris had chosen and had left her.

I'm not running away.

‘Damn it!’

Anger boiled beneath the surface. She was bitter. This felt like defeat. Because what was the point of all that power, of all that strength, if she couldn’t have everything her way?

Why couldn’t she save her? Quinn. Rox. Nilira. Kirie. Lily. Vess. Ace…

She left Quinn - wounded and surrounded. Not that she didn’t think the Sith Lord was more than capable of smearing two Mandalorians across the duracrete. But she felt like an utter idiot.

When they arrived at the heart site, Arris wasn’t sure what to expect. And besides, she was still caught up in her own anger.

Her massive form tilted back, some of her many arms spreading wide for a moment, welcoming what was to come, gazing up into the sky.

But she didn’t expect that.

Or the field of fleshy growths, spread to consume the area as far as the eyes could see. Before she could even take more in, one of the flesh reavers - crazed and hungry - charged her. It lunged and tackled her away from Lily. It clawed and snapped, trying desperately to peel away Windrun’s cybernetic body and get to the organic matter within.

She never accepted A’Mia’s boon, because she was immune to the plague itself. The Sith Lord hadn’t considered that it meant the flesh reavers would attack her, however.

“S-Shit!” She panicked and threw her hand upward, exposing the creature to a powerful blast.

Pieces of it splattered all around them.

Arris reached down to collect her gun.

She looked to Lily, and whether it was a glimpse of unusual body language, the emanation of her Darkness in the Force, or simply her emotions scattering across the telepathic link, the apprentice would feel her Master’s rage.

For a long time, Arris wanted to destroy the Covenant. She hated where Mercy had taken them. She hated being part of it. Not just along for the ride. But part of it.

'Don't pretend like you're not one of them, Arris. This is your party.'

Finally, those words made sense to her. Truly.

It wasn’t killing all those people on Tapani. Or kicking off the purge in the Core. When she thought back to it, really far back, she remembered that room. Her, Mercy, Vestra… some other thugs and Sith; laughing, drinking; planning. From Kattada to Abregado-rae. Arris Windrun was always in the picture.

The turbolaser fire. The flesh reavers. The screaming civilians. The dead and dying. Sith soldiers clashing with Mandalorians. Ships shattering above.

"This is my party," she muttered to herself.

And where the Triumvir's single, sulfurous eye settled upon a warp in space.

"Arris fucking Windrun."

‘That voice.’

Oh. Something was boiling beneath the surface. Arris crushed the lighter in her hand, scattering metal pieces to the cold wind.

The Hatred poured.

Her eyes snapped to the source.

She looked as she did at death; skull fractured, eye boiled out of its socket, chit-eating grin. Lightning settled about her like a mantle, and in her jet-black grasp she lazily twirled a blade made of pure Force.

“VESSSSTRAAAA!!!”
​

Arris leveled her gun and fired all five remaining rounds in succession at the dead Triumvir.